2nd CO; 
 
 $&4 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap.. Copyright No. 
 
 Shelf. A.M3 r 7 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
THE 
 
 SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 J. W. CASTELLE. 
 
 Copyrighted 1898 by John W. Casteixe. 
 
•7) ?n S^ 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 Like a frail bark on a stormy sea, 
 I'll launch this craft without a hope 
 
 That on any shore a friend may be 
 To cast to it a hawser rope. 
 
 And moor it safely on welcome shores, 
 Where verse like this may find a home 
 
 Among the manifold mystic lores, 
 Which over every nation roam. 
 
 But reader, when you 've read this book, 
 From the beginning to the end, 
 
 If it pleases* you, I know you'll brook 
 The author on your list of friends. 
 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 Tis twenty years ago to-day, 
 
 Since father sank to rest ; 
 He laid aside his pilgrim's staff 
 
 To join the heavenly blest. 
 
 But hew methinks upon the time 
 
 Before we laid him low, 
 How anxiously his days were spent 
 
 To gain a golden glow. 
 
 Society he left behind, 
 
 Some forty years gone by ; 
 And wandered with the pioneers 
 
 To seek the Illini. 
 
 He built beside that rippling stream 
 
 His lowly trapper's cot, 
 And added to his acreage 
 
 At every chance he got. 
 
 The youthful glow soon left his face, 
 His raven locks grew grey ; 
 
 Though ne'er a thought he gave to self 
 But labored on alway. 
 
 He was also very anxious 
 That we should write and spell, 
 
 And read the papers every week, 
 And cipher too f as well. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 We 'tended the old log school house 
 
 With other girls and boys, 
 'Till we could read and write and spell 
 
 All names in Illinois. 
 
 Then father started us on farms — 
 
 A half a section each — 
 Where we could practice what we learned, 
 
 And also what we'd preach. 
 
 Well, sister Bess got married to 
 
 A school-boy of our time 
 Whose sole ambition always was 
 
 To put his thoughts in rhyme. 
 
 He farmed it for several years 
 
 Until he got a chance 
 To rent his farm to other men 
 
 For money in advance ; 
 
 He straightway to the village went 
 
 And bought a little store, 
 Which he equipped with printing press, 
 
 Paper and reading lore. 
 
 He started a little weekly — 
 At first we thought he'd fail — 
 
 But ne'er a man did work so hard 
 To weather stormy gales. 
 
 Subscribers came but slow at first, 
 
 And advertisers, too, 
 But ere the second year had past 
 
 His troubles were but few. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 5 
 
 Of course he prospered every step 
 
 In his newspaper life, 
 Until at last we find him high 
 
 With politicians rife. 
 
 In congress he served his district, 
 
 And is a bosom friend 
 Of the highest sage in council, 
 
 Where minor colors blend. 
 
 Hal batched it for a year or two 
 
 Before he took a bride, 
 And now he has the finest place 
 
 On all the country side; 
 
 He never thinks of work at all, 
 
 Although the work is done 
 By those he employs to do it 
 
 While he is " having fun." 
 
 " Having fun, " well, that is what he says, 
 
 While overseeing the work; 
 And you may depend upon it 
 
 There's nothing he will shirk. 
 
 He's the first up every morning 
 
 And last to bed at night; 
 His face is like a sunbeam, 
 
 His heart is always light. 
 
 His neighbors call him very rich 
 
 Because he lays away 
 Much of the profits of his toil 
 
 For help in future days. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 He guards his buildings from decay 
 With fresh paint every year: 
 
 The verdant lawn before his house 
 Is never brown and sear; 
 
 His fences never show neglect 
 
 But always stand in place; 
 He leaves no windfall in his woods 
 
 To curb his cattle's graze. 
 
 He has a way for everything, 
 If wrong he knows the cause; 
 
 He's more inclined to hoard up wealth 
 Than father ever was. 
 
 So I, the last and youngest of 
 My father's children three, 
 
 Had just as good a chance in life 
 As any chance could be. 
 
 With stock and land at my command 
 
 And money, too, to spare, 
 I longed to be among the ones 
 
 Which make spectators stare; 
 
 I longed for an- education — 
 
 The best society key — 
 To make the doors I coveted 
 
 To open wide to me. 
 
 I'll tell you how it came about, 
 And why I thought that way, 
 
 If you'll only listen to me 
 Until I have my say. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 You know a boy at twenty years 
 
 Is very apt to love, 
 And if he is rejected then 
 
 His mind begins to rove 
 
 Among fancies' vast creations, 
 
 To build a higher tower 
 Than the one before whose spirit 
 
 He was compelled to cower; 
 
 Or else he gives up hope in life, 
 
 And welcomes every breath 
 That carries fever's lurid flames — 
 
 The harbingers of death. 
 
 You- see, I longed to wed a maid — 
 
 A farmer's only child, 
 Whose rustic manners charmed me, and 
 
 Whose beauty made me wild. 
 
 At first she smiled upon me, and 
 
 Told me her little cares 
 About excuses offered for 
 
 Her apron's latest tears. 
 
 A girl's troubles are very few 
 
 While living in her teens; 
 When she assumes a parent's care, 
 
 She learns what trouble means. 
 
 That fall, the school board hired a man 
 
 For teacher in the school, 
 Whose every act in daily life 
 
 Was guided by a rule. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 
 
 He was a few years my senior, 
 Although not half as large; 
 
 You'd think, to see him move about, 
 He traveled free of charge; 
 
 He felt at home in every house 
 Wherein his course had led, 
 
 And was first and last at tables 
 Wherefrom he ate his bread. 
 
 Of course he lived among us in 
 The old style, " boarding round," 
 
 Quite anxious for invitations 
 Where festal boards were found. 
 
 He conversed with the grandmammas 
 
 About the days gone by, 
 When his grandsires in Jersey state, 
 
 Were ranked among the high, 
 
 Beside the great George Washington 
 
 In fighting for our cause; 
 And when at last the case was won 
 
 They helped to make the laws, 
 
 Which we call the Constitution — 
 
 The bulwark of the free ; 
 And told wherein his grandsires 
 
 Had failed to disagree 
 
 With Jefferson of Virginia 
 
 About a nation's bank, 
 And also said if he were there, 
 
 The people now would thank 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 9 
 
 The wise course he then pursued in 
 
 Opposing such a plan; 
 For now they see where Tom was wrong 
 
 And he'd be just the man 
 
 To reef the sails for coming storms, 
 
 By peering through the years 
 To the bare rock where Poverty 
 
 Was pouring forth her tears. 
 
 Of course he asked to be excused 
 
 For his familiar " Tom " ; 
 But that was not at all his fault , 
 
 But of where he was from. 
 
 His grandsires knew the sage so well, 
 
 And then it was their style 
 To shout "Hallo," to famous Tom, 
 
 If off a half a mile. 
 
 He knew it was unbecoming, 
 
 And often would forget ; 
 But his likeness to his grandsires 
 
 Was running through him yet. 
 
 I hated him when first we met , 
 
 And do so even now , 
 For his unruffled polished way, 
 
 His gestures and his bow 
 
 Always opened the way for him 
 
 To tell his only story — 
 Of how his grandsires climbed the hill 
 
 With George and Tom to glory. 
 
10 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 The grand dames talked of home made cloth, 
 
 And of the spinning wheel, 
 And wondered if those famous men 
 
 Had ever learned to feel 
 
 The true importance of the time, 
 When women combed the wool, 
 
 To make the soldier's raiment 
 And his Sunday suit in full; 
 
 Our mammas talked to him of schools 
 
 And the good they had done; 
 And compared the schools they then had 
 
 With ones when they were young. 
 
 They also compared the girls then 
 
 With those who lived before 
 In another generation, 
 
 Some thirty years and more. 
 
 They told how much the maids did then 
 
 Of work in field and house, 
 And how the maids of now complain 
 
 About milking the cows. 
 
 The teacher was at home with them; 
 
 He understood their text, 
 And often ventured helping words, 
 
 When they became perplexed 
 
 With a simple combination 
 
 Of English words and names; 
 He always said the word desired 
 
 His grandsires did the same; 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 11 
 
 He conversed on every subject 
 On which they wished to talk; 
 
 He had studied all at college 
 Or high school in New York. 
 
 By the way he pleased the matrons 
 
 And made the maidens smile, 
 'Twas very plain that Cupid's dart 
 
 Was with him all the while. 
 
 The maids at every house he lived 
 
 For his respective week, 
 At the first mention of his name, 
 
 Would show a blushing cheek. 
 
 I feared the time when he should go 
 And spend his week with Ann; 
 
 For well I feared his smiling face 
 Would make him just the man 
 
 To win her simple childlike heart, 
 
 Without a thought of me; 
 And broken-hearted leave her then 
 
 Another's misery. 
 
 For every maid who loved and lost, 
 
 Then weds another man; 
 She makes her home a warlike fort — 
 
 A hell on earth for him. 
 
 I asked the little pedagogue 
 
 To spend that week with me, 
 Which by the custom of our place 
 
 He'd spend with Anna Lee. 
 
 / 
 
12 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 But he desired to meet the maid 
 
 He heard so much about, 
 And told me as a joke, he'd win 
 
 Her heart ere he got out. 
 
 I could have strangled him right there, 
 
 And often wished I had; 
 But mother's words came to my mind- 
 
 The last she ever said; 
 
 While she lay on her bed of death 
 Before she breathed her last; 
 
 She knew our little childish plans — 
 The fondest hopes we cast. 
 
 She cautioned us against anger — 
 
 The cause of every crime — 
 And made us promise ere she died, 
 
 That we'd give plenty time 
 
 In every case where anger roused 
 
 Our carnal nature's ire; 
 That a day at least should smoulder 
 
 O'er passions burning fire. 
 
 I gave the padagogue his day 
 
 And then of course a week; 
 But anger's change to jealousy 
 
 Compelled me not to speak 
 
 To him or any other one 
 
 About my love for Ann; 
 But here it moulders in my breast 
 
 As when it first began. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 13 
 
 On Sunday morn he left us for 
 Ann's home among the birch; 
 
 On Sunday night she had his arm 
 When coming home from church. 
 
 I followed them to Anna's gate, 
 
 Staying far enough away r 
 For darkness to hide me from them, 
 
 Yet hearing what they'd say. 
 
 He told her about his grandsires 
 
 In Revolution's days; 
 Of course, I knew he'd tell her that, 
 
 But what did me amaze 
 
 Was how willingly she told him all 
 
 The secrets of her heart ; 
 When I had known her all her life 
 
 To seldom take a part 
 
 In a rural conversation 
 
 Where I was trying to lead 
 Her away from ducks and turkeys 
 
 To music's magic reed. 
 
 Or in any other topic 
 
 Wherein I led the way, 
 She was always acquiescent 
 
 With not a word to say. 
 
 But the way she chattered to him, 
 
 And told him not to tell 
 The little secrets of her life 
 
 With Kate, or Bess, or Nell, 
 
14 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 I saw at once he had her heart, 
 
 And got it easy too, 
 But jealousy took mine that night 
 
 And moulded it anew. 
 
 Her familiar ways with the man 
 She had not known before, 
 
 Made me suppose my case was lost, 
 And angered me the more 
 
 To think I had allowed my friends 
 
 To name me as her beau ; 
 To think I had pursued her 
 
 When I hadn't any show 
 
 To ever win a spark of love 
 
 From such a one as she; 
 For she built her airy castles 
 
 While entertaining me. 
 
 I formed a fixed opinion then 
 
 About affairs of love- 
 That man to win a maiden's heart, 
 
 Must have a mind above 
 
 Her highest flights of random thought, 
 Where Cupid's dart is cast, 
 
 To catch the arrow from the bow, 
 And hold it to the last. 
 
 1 thought of an education 
 
 To build up such a mind, 
 And make me envied by the swain 
 
 For conquests left behind. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 15 
 
 The pedagogue got through at last, 
 And locked the school-house door, 
 
 And wandered back to jersey where 
 His grandsires were before. 
 
 He quite forgot to say farewell 
 
 To any maid in town; 
 He quite forgot to pay the debts 
 
 Which he contracted round. 
 
 The good matrons were astonished 
 
 About the way he went; 
 The maidens all said chidingly 
 
 " He wasn't worth a cent." 
 
 And Anna Lee, my pretty maid, 
 
 Seemed happy that he fled; 
 For she joined the rest in laughing 
 
 At the queer things he said. 
 
 When we met at church on Sunday; 
 
 Just after he took flight, 
 She ventured an opinion and 
 
 Asked if I thought it right 
 
 About his famous ancestors, 
 
 His gestures and his bow. 
 Of course I thought her very right, 
 
 I never couldthink how 
 
 She could form a false opinion 
 
 About such man as he. 
 She was more confidential there 
 
 Than ere bef ore. to me. 
 
16 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 She turned away from the others 
 Who were assembled there, 
 
 And raised her hand' to my shoulder 
 And picked therefrom a hair 
 
 Which had blown there from the horses 
 
 I drove that day to town; 
 She joked about my overcoat — 
 
 A pretty hazel brown — 
 
 And told me of her latest dress — 
 
 The fashion of the day; 
 And how she was to have it made, 
 
 And what she'd have to pay. 
 
 She chattered, chattered right along; 
 
 I did not say a word, 
 But blankly gazed on vacant space, 
 
 As if she was unheard; 
 
 And when the young folks departed 
 
 For their respective pews, 
 I left her with a word half said, 
 
 To devoutly peruse 
 
 My hymnbook and the Sunday text 
 
 Which I had laid away 
 In a far corner of the pew, 
 
 To serve me every day 
 
 Wherein I spent an hour in church. 
 
 The text was just the same 
 For I never was attentive 
 
 To anything but fame. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 17 
 
 My roaming eye soon found her face, 
 Twas jeweled bright with tears ; 
 
 I see it now distinctly through 
 The mists of twenty years ; 
 
 She was gazing at her hymnbook, 
 
 Her head somewhat inclined; 
 But her streaming eyes told plainly 
 
 What thoughts were in her mind. 
 
 I knew Ihad acted foolish — 
 
 That I had caused her tears — 
 But did not know I wounded her 
 
 For many weary years. 
 
 My jealousy was uppermost; 
 
 It led me right along. 
 With reason absent from my mind 
 
 There was no right or wrong. 
 
 While my heart longed to be with her, 
 
 My jealous mind would say : 
 " She jilted you before my boy," 
 
 And lead me right away. 
 
 When jealousy controls our fate, 
 
 Our lot is poorly cast; 
 'Twill lead us high on airy wings 
 
 And throw us hard at last. 
 
 My spirit became quite moody; 
 
 I longed to be alone 
 To brood in silence o'er my cares ; 
 
 My boyhood's life had gone. 
 
18 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 When the demon of jealousy 
 Swept matters from my mind, 
 
 Which until then were uppermost 
 All others left behind. 
 
 It changed me to a caregrown man, 
 
 Whose only hope in life 
 Was vengeance wreaked upon the maid 
 
 I hoped to make my wife. 
 
 Vengeance for what ? I've often thought 
 
 She never did me wrong; 
 For the conquest I hoped to gain 
 
 Did not to me belong. 
 
 She never knew my fond desire, 
 
 Unless she read my heart ; 
 But now I see through my past life 
 
 I've played a silly part. 
 
 I showed my jealousy quite plain 
 
 In acting as I did. 
 My hopes in life I coffined up 
 
 And fastened down the lid. 
 
 She entertained the Schoolmaster, 
 
 As sister Bess had done, 
 As mistress of her father's house — 
 
 A very genial one. 
 
 Her lofty spirit disdained me 
 
 For acting as I had, 
 The latest time we met at church 
 
 When I behaved so bad. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 19 
 
 She never risked in later times, 
 
 To waste a word on me 
 Fearing' the most as I suppose, 
 
 I'd show my jealousy. 
 
 Thus the little gap between us 
 
 Kept growing day by day, 
 Until it brought us to a place, 
 
 Where we had naught to say. 
 
 So when at last she passed me by 
 
 Without a friendly smile, 
 I longed to leave my jealous scenes 
 
 And seek afar awhile— 
 
 To seek for an education 
 
 In some far distant town, 
 Where years may keep me far away, 
 
 And then at last come round 
 
 A professor or a doctor, 
 
 With gaudy dress and hat, 
 And hear the ones who stare at me 
 
 Always enquire, "Who's that?" 
 
 Then Anna would not wait for me 
 
 To make apology; 
 She'd forgive all my shortcomings 
 
 And thank my jealousy 
 
 For making me a gentleman 
 
 Above the common clod, 
 Whose earthly hopes are firmly fixed 
 
 In a well practised nod. 
 
20 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 Her father knew I was the best 
 Young man in all the town; 
 
 And often asked enquiringly, 
 "Why don't you call around? 
 
 Anna is home now every eve, 
 
 And surely would enjoy 
 To have you call as you used to, 
 
 You careless, happy boy." 
 
 But Anna knew my jealousy 
 
 And I insulted her; 
 I owed her two apologies 
 
 Before I'd dare to stir 
 
 A single step down toward her house, 
 On my well trodden road; 
 
 But still I hoped that she'd relent 
 And thaw our icy load. 
 
 Relent for what? I never thought 
 
 To ask myself the why, 
 When I figured in this drama 
 
 Gome twenty years gone by. 
 
 I sold my farm at the first chance, 
 For cash down on the spot, 
 
 The stock and wares I sold off too, 
 And ready money got. 
 
 I bade my friends a fond adieu, 
 But never called on Ann, 
 
 As if hers was the difference 
 I did not understand; 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 21 
 
 So off for the education 
 
 Which oft makes small men great, 
 I took the first train out of town 
 
 Likewise my whole estate. 
 
 So I coursed my way through high school 
 
 Also through famous Yale 
 And I got a sheepskin diploma 
 
 Whichfixed me up to sail 
 
 My bark of life on any sea 
 
 Where languages are spoke, 
 And I had to sail right away 
 
 Because I was "dead broke." 
 
 My college years were expensive. 
 
 I had spent every cent 
 Of the fortune father left me 
 
 Before I did repent 
 
 Of my rash act in selling off 
 
 My farm and stock and ware, 
 But now I am what I desired — 
 
 A scholar, poor and bare — 
 
 Without a cent I dared not go 
 
 Around my early home, 
 But anxiously I looked around 
 
 To find where I'd live from. 
 
 At last I found a country school 
 
 In a New England town, 
 Which would sustain my famished hopes 
 
 'Till better times would come. 
 
22 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 There in the role of pedagogue, 
 My mind oft wandered back 
 
 To the scenes of early manhood, 
 Which placed me on the rack 
 
 Between Jealousy and Vengeance 
 
 Where I've been crucified 
 Fully twenty times a day 
 
 By Conscience and by Pride. 
 
 But there, as country school teacher, 
 
 Mid duties manifold, 
 I learned the lesson of my life 
 
 About the wise and bold. 
 
 I learned that greatness is not made, 
 
 As many people say, 
 By education and hard work 
 
 And very little pay, 
 
 But genius must be in the life 
 That's destined to be great; 
 
 And it takes more than common sense 
 To rise above our fate. 
 
 As for having education 
 As much as schools can give 
 
 To man on this mundane sphere 
 To help him while he live, 
 
 I am amply satisfied that 
 
 I have absorbed my share 
 Of book knowledge and common sense 
 
 But still there's room to spare. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 23 
 
 Somewhere among the faculties 
 
 Of what I call my mind; 
 Because I know there is a blank 
 
 Which is not hard to find, 
 
 If only one could see through eyes 
 
 Lighted by nature's gift, 
 He might early cast his follies 
 
 To willing winds to sift. ' 
 
 Of all vocations in this life 
 
 School teacher is the worst, 
 And if earth is expiation 
 
 For sinners doomed and curst 
 
 For sins against the universe 
 From some far distant sphere, 
 
 Where transient life may find a home, 
 Ere wandering to here; 
 
 And if the sins for which we're sent 
 
 To suffer out our lot, 
 Mark our position in this life 
 
 From mansion to the cot, 
 
 The soul which guides the school master 
 
 Ere it joined earthly clay, 
 Must have broken all commandments 
 
 And then refused to pray. 
 
 For there is no act in schoolroom, 
 
 Or boarding house as well, 
 Which does not work unanimous 
 
 To make his life a hell; 
 
24 The Schoolmaster and Other Pvems. 
 
 Unless, perhaps, he's callous 
 
 To critic's sure complaint 
 He'll hear things every day 'twould shake 
 
 The halo from a saint. 
 
 His clothes must be the latest style — 
 
 A new suit every week — 
 It matters not about wages 
 
 (I know whereof I speak) 
 
 His hair must lie exactly right, 
 
 He must shave every day; 
 He must never dare to laugh 'cause 
 
 There's where critics prey. 
 
 A smile will do a school teacher-- 
 
 The vulgar only laugh — 
 (But don't you think I have told all 
 
 I have'nt told you half.) 
 
 And in every rural district, 
 
 Wherein his lot is cast, 
 is an ancient maiden school ma'am 
 
 Who taught there " year 'fore last." 
 
 Though when you seek the register 
 To find how she kept school, 
 
 You must turn back a score of years 
 Before you find her rule, 
 
 For teaching children how to learn 
 
 The quaint old alphabet. 
 But still she's young, just twenty-six, 
 
 She never will forget 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 25 
 
 What a cunning child Ida was, 
 
 But Charley was a case. 
 She "teached and learned" him all she knew 
 
 About the country place 
 
 In the mountain side in Vermont, 
 
 Where is her father's farm; 
 She told him of the tall pine trees 
 
 Around her father's barn, 
 
 And of the distant snow capped peaks 
 Whose sides are wrapt in green, 
 
 Everlasting through the seasons, 
 And how she often "seen" 
 
 The mountain brooks come gurgling down 
 
 The rugged mountain side, 
 From founts whose source was far above 
 
 The rills the pine trees hide. 
 
 But while she talked thus to Charley, 
 
 His mind was far away 
 From the scene she was depicting, 
 
 The same as little May 
 
 Had acted when I tried to tell 
 
 Her a few hours before, 
 Something she did not understand 
 
 About the Leaning Tower. 
 
 But she was always apt to teach; 
 
 She quickly found a way 
 To make her pupils attentive 
 
 To every word she'd say; 
 
26 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 But she had to differ from me 
 About "teachin' " from books. 
 
 She'd hold the book before her eyes 
 And explore all the nooks 
 
 In the lesson and ask questions 
 
 As they appeared below 
 Each topic the author discussed; 
 
 Then the children would know 
 
 What they were expected to learn 
 And they would learn it too, 
 
 The first would answer number one, 
 The second number two; 
 
 And so on to the lesson's end 
 There would be no mistake 
 
 About the answers which they gave 
 Being correct. They'd make 
 
 A miss of course once and a while 
 The same as all might do, 
 
 And if the first failed to answer, 
 The question would go through 
 
 From the first pupil to the last, 
 Without being answered right. 
 
 It was comical to see them 
 In such a pretty plight 
 
 They'd all accuse the number one 
 Who missed the question first, 
 
 And all declare unanimous 
 Her lesson was the worst. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 27 
 
 Punish a child ! Why, no, never." 
 The children loved her so 
 They would " break their necks " to please her 
 If only they would know 
 
 What she desired to have them do 
 
 About the school or home; 
 And after school they'd linger round, 
 
 Afraid she'd be alone. 
 
 That in the school the ancient maid 
 
 Is friendly as can be, 
 But when she joins with the spinsters 
 
 In after-dinner tea, 
 
 In discussing all the topics 
 
 Of gossip and defame, 
 She will not let the curtain fall 
 
 Until the teacher's name 
 
 Is handled by those fiery tongues, 
 
 For every word he said 
 The day she spent a while in school, 
 
 (Though sorry now she did, 
 
 'Cause the upper class of gossips 
 
 Are saying what is not so, 
 About her call on the teacher 
 
 To claim him for a beau. 
 
 She just despises such a man 
 
 For his elastic ways 
 In stretching out the precedents 
 
 Of good old early days. 
 
28 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 To think children could learn at all 
 
 Without the alphabet, 
 Is to assume them prodigies 
 
 By inspiration set. 
 
 And then his mathematics are 
 The worst she ever u seen ; " 
 
 He simply don't know how to teach 
 What different terms mean. 
 
 Instead of having his pupils 
 Explain what they had done, 
 
 He'll find out what they did not do 
 From last to number one ; 
 
 And then have them perform the work 
 
 They failed to get before. 
 He plies them with puzzling questions ; 
 
 Oh ! he is such a bore. 
 
 He never thinks to show a child 
 
 How any thing is done, 
 But will ask such silly questions 
 
 Trying to lead them on. 
 
 Such criticism would not hurt, 
 
 If none believed her way, 
 But when mammas are sure she's right 
 
 In all she has to say, 
 
 Then the papas and the school board 
 Who know how they were taught, 
 
 Ccmplain about the pedagogue 
 And say he's good for naught, 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 29 
 
 Because he don't pursue the ways 
 
 Of teachers long ago, 
 In stuffing mental sausages 
 
 Like those they used to know. 
 
 They say the good old times are gone 
 When they learned word for word, 
 
 Every page in all their books 
 As well as all they heard 
 
 By the way of conversation 
 
 Between two men of note, 
 Such as clergymen and merchants 
 
 And captains of a boat. 
 
 They criticise the teacher, too, 
 
 About his etiquette, 
 And all the mechanical ways 
 
 In which his life is set. 
 
 Whoever heard of picking bones 
 
 Without the teeth and hands, 
 Or thought it impolite 
 
 To read the different brands 
 
 Of catsup and tomato sauce 
 Which stand before your eyes, 
 
 And compliment the very one 
 Which took the latest prize ? 
 
 Who ever dreamed of drinking tea 
 
 From out a boiling cup, 
 While in the saucer it may cool 
 
 Ere it is fit to sup ; 
 
3o The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 Or tried to use a silver fork 
 
 To eat a piece of pie, 
 While a knife is waiting for him 
 
 " Before his very eye?" 
 
 His table manners are the worst 
 Those folks have ever known; 
 
 But he came from the wooly West 
 Where wildest weeds are grown. 
 
 Such criticism may be felt 
 
 Or may be cast aside, 
 According to the temperament 
 
 Which must govern our pride. 
 
 But there is a critic always 
 
 About the teacher's heart, 
 Which criticises every act 
 
 Wherein he takes a part. 
 
 It tells him where he did succeed 
 
 And also where he failed; 
 It shows him the propositions 
 
 Before which he has quailed; 
 
 It shows him, too, in such a way 
 They cannot leave his mind 
 
 Until he searches every creed 
 The proper rules to find, 
 
 Which will help him to overcome 
 The ways wherein he's weak 
 
 While teaching children common terms 
 As well as fjengb or Greek. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 3l 
 
 This critic's name is Conscience and 
 
 Is every teacher's foe, 
 No matter what he tries to do 
 
 It's always sure to know. 
 
 It saps the life and vigor from 
 The heart and active brain, 
 
 And all the ills of flesh and blood 
 Must follow in its train. 
 
 Of course it won't strike all alike, 
 
 For some are apt to teach, 
 But like the ranter in the night 
 
 Who hears a call to preach, 
 
 And straightway tries the narrow path 
 Where clergymen must walk, 
 
 He finds it's like a rope for him, 
 Whose swinging makes him balk. 
 
 But he pursues the narrow way 
 
 Because he heard the call; 
 'Tis true he cannot walk the path 
 
 And very oft will fall 
 
 A victim to race prejudice, 
 Which leads the ranter on, 
 
 And never dreams the call he heard 
 Was from the Evil One. 
 
 'Tis just the same with the teacher 
 
 Who is not apt to teach, 
 As with the prejudiced preacher 
 
 Who is not apt to preach; 
 
32 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 The one benumbs the human mind 
 
 By stranding it on shoals, 
 The other by false pretenses 
 
 Is damning human souls. 
 
 Tis difficult to know just now 
 Which one is doing the worst, 
 
 But one prepares for the other 
 And both are justly curst. 
 
 A narrow mind without reason 
 
 Is always first to grasp 
 The volume of superstition 
 
 And open wide the clasp, 
 
 Ranters, traitors, and murderers 
 
 Are products of the home, 
 Where narrow minds unite to build 
 
 A model epitome — 
 
 A teacher who can't break the crust 
 
 That is around the mind, 
 Should seek through the workshops till he 
 
 Fitter employment finds; 
 
 And not have the generation 
 
 Which follows in his wake, 
 Like savages heaping fagots 
 
 Around the martyr's stake 
 
 I always will remember if 
 
 I live a hundred years 
 Through toils like those of my past life, 
 
 Through misery and tears, 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 33 
 
 The punishment inflicted once 
 
 Upon a little boy; 
 By me 'tis true when I commenced 
 
 To curb the youngsters joy. 
 
 For that I thought the primal aim 
 
 Of every teacher's life; 
 So I but practised what I learned 
 
 Ere I commenced the strife. 
 
 A laughing child was always whipped 
 
 To straighten out his face, 
 As I was told when I was young 
 
 'Twould make him know his place. 
 
 So when I found one laughing out 
 
 In the first school I taught, 
 I straightway on his fingers tried 
 
 The ferule I had bought 
 
 To use on every occasion 
 
 Where one transgressed my rules, 
 For I imagined I would keep 
 
 The most perfect of schools. 
 
 The little fellow shook with fear 
 
 Before I struck a blow; 
 His chin was ruffled like a pool 
 
 Beneath a water flow; 
 
 But when I struck his finger tips 
 
 And saw the blood burst out, 
 I thought him punished hard enough 
 
 Beyond the slightest doubt. 
 
34 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 The little fellow wept awhile, 
 And then perused his book, 
 
 And oft upon his bleeding hand 
 Would cast a painful look. 
 
 Though no ill will was in his heart 
 He felt he had done wrong, 
 
 And frankly told me why he had 
 After our evening song. 
 
 He said for years he was unwell 
 
 And oft times sick abed, 
 And then proceeded to tell me 
 
 The many things he did, 
 
 Because the doctor told him if 
 
 He wanted to be well, 
 He'd have to take his medicine 
 
 Whene'er the time would tell; 
 
 The clock had struck the very hour 
 That he should take a dose, 
 
 And sipping from his little vial 
 He dropped some on his clothes; 
 
 The other boys commenced to laugh 
 And that made him begin; 
 
 And that is why he acted wrong, 
 In laughing as he did. 
 
 But all the while he talked this way 
 He held his hand away — 
 
 Behind his back or by his side — 
 Perhaps afraid he may 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 35 
 
 Exhibit his bleeding fingers 
 
 To my despotic gaze. 
 Fearing it was a mark of shame 
 
 To wear the ferule's raise. 
 
 Despite all I knew of teaching, 
 I felt I had done wrong; 
 
 I also felt the little boy 
 Would not be with us long. 
 
 His hollow eye and shrunken form 
 
 I had not seen before 
 As plainly as I did that night, 
 
 While he recited o'er 
 The trouble of his little life 
 
 For seven years and more. 
 i 
 That night before he left for home 
 
 He asked me to forgive, 
 And said he'd be a better boy 
 
 "The longest day I live." 
 
 If I only would forgive him, 
 
 He'd never laugh again 
 In school, or church, or any place 
 
 Where it was such a sin. 
 
 It pained me then to see the hand 
 
 He tried to hold away; 
 It pained me more than all to hear 
 
 The little fellow say 
 
36 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 That he did wrong to laugh just then, 
 
 But would do so no more; 
 He smiling bowed then took his leave, 
 
 And sottly closed the door. 
 
 I watched him as he walked along 
 
 That quiet country lane, 
 And thought of what a brute I was 
 
 To aggravate his pain. 
 
 Retribution came sure and fast 
 
 And dealt a lasting blow, 
 When I saw the little fellow 
 
 Approach the fountain's flow, 
 
 And wash with care his bleeding hand 
 
 And wipe his tearful eyes. 
 He wished to face his family 
 
 In a complete disguise, 
 
 That they would not know his troubles 
 
 Or ever think to ask 
 If he " was whipped" that day at school 
 
 For failing in his task. 
 
 Next morning he came quite early, 
 
 And, busy as a bee, 
 Applied himself in helping me 
 
 Do everything he'd see 
 
 That should be done, as he supposed, 
 
 Before the pupils came; 
 And then went out to romp with them 
 
 In playing a boyish game. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 37 
 
 When school had called he took his books, 
 
 His lessons all perused, 
 But ere the time for recess came 
 
 He asked to be excused. 
 
 His head had ached so bad, he said. 
 
 He wanted to go home, 
 And if he would get better soon 
 
 He surely back would come. 
 
 The last I saw when he left was 
 
 His badly swollen hand, 
 When at the door he glanced along 
 
 The peaceful, level land. 
 
 His schoolmates brought me bulletins, 
 
 Saying he was getting well; 
 I thought he would until I heard 
 
 His little sister Nell 
 
 Tell to his questioning playmates 
 
 The words the doctor said; 
 Scarce a half a week had passed till 
 
 I heard that tie was dead. 
 
 I hurried to the home of grief, 
 
 Consoling, as I thought, 
 His schoolmates and his family, 
 
 Who all seemed sadly wrought. 
 
 But I of all should be consoled 
 
 When I beheld the corse, 
 For conscience then commenced to rack 
 
 And there is nothing worse; 
 
38 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 When I beheld the wasted form, 
 The wreck that death had left; 
 
 And when I saw the face and arms 
 Of motion now bereft, 
 
 And last of all the beaten hands 
 Were crossed upon his breast, 
 
 In one was clasped a lily, white 
 As ruffled ocean's crest. 
 
 That very hand showed ruddy marks, 
 Where blood had bursted through; 
 
 They had not healed before his death 
 But looked as fresh and new 
 
 As they did the day I beat him 
 
 For laughing in his joy, 
 About the freaks of others, like 
 
 A careless, happy boy. 
 
 But there beside that bed of death, 
 
 I felt perhaps like Cain; 
 I knew I curbed his happiness, 
 
 I knew I caused him pain; 
 
 So there before I left that spot 
 
 I made a solemn vow, 
 That while I lived upon this sphere 
 
 I never would allow 
 
 My temper or my human pride 
 
 To carry me so far 
 As punish little children or 
 
 Their pleasant past-times mar. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 39 
 
 But time has wrought its changes now, 
 
 Upon the boy I was 
 When I staked my handsome fortune 
 
 For a trivial cause; 
 
 And the great man I hoped to be 
 
 Is farther from me now 
 Than when a youth of twenty years 
 
 I followed father's plow. 
 
 I have the education but 
 
 There's something that I lack, 
 There's something in my make up and 
 
 It always keeps me back; 
 
 And I am not a professor — 
 Though I might hold a chair — 
 
 And the farmer's hat I despised 
 Is good enough to wear. 
 
 So after teaching seven years, 
 
 And saving all I could, 
 In the rural towns of Vermont; 
 
 I felt it time I should 
 
 Attempt a little visit to 
 
 The state where I was born, 
 Among the homes of early friends 
 
 And fields of yellow corn. 
 
 But Oh, how much the place has changed 
 
 Since twenty years ago ! 
 The land, the trees, and even friends 
 
 Are not what I did know. 
 
40 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 Another generation now 
 
 Pursues my early play, 
 And the way they observe strangers, 
 
 Is a different way 
 
 From what I anticipated; 
 
 They'd notice one like me; 
 For I wear all my dignity 
 
 And show off high degree. 
 
 But professor, doctor, lawyer, 
 
 Or any other name 
 That I would fain associate 
 
 With pride akin to fame, 
 
 Have not been bestowed upon me 
 As I had hoped they would; 
 
 But "Old Fossil" and "Rubber Neck," 
 " Weary Willie " and " Mud," 
 
 Are among the appellations 
 With which my course is hailed, 
 
 And I can't say that they're far wrong 
 Of one whose life has failed. 
 
 And Anna Lee is now alone, 
 An "Old Maid," it you please, 
 
 She's mistress of her father's farm — 
 He's dead these many years. 
 
 We met at church last Sunday and 
 Exchanged our courtesies; 
 
 Though her manner was more distant 
 Than e'er before to me; 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 41 
 
 She didn't invite me to her house 
 
 As I had hoped she would, 
 But merely spoke of the present 
 
 And hoped my health was good; 
 
 She was also in a hurry 
 
 And had not long to wait; 
 She cut our conversation short 
 
 Fearing she would be late. 
 
 That day at Sunday services. 
 
 My mind wandered away 
 Back in the past just twenty years, 
 
 To that remorseful day, 
 When I listened to her stories 
 
 Without a word to say. 
 
 But still I'm as proud as ever, 
 
 Though jealousy is gone; 
 I cannot ask her pardon for 
 
 The wrong that I have done. 
 
 So I must live my life alone, 
 
 Or overcome my pride, 
 And that I know I cannot do, 
 
 Though others may deride 
 
 My foolishness in saying so; 
 
 I know whereof I speak; 
 It blanked my life those twenty years 
 
 And made me poor and weak. 
 
42 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 
 
 So if Anna don't invite me, 
 
 I surely will not call, 
 For a friendly conversation 
 
 And — well I guess that's all — 
 
 For she's just as proud as I am 
 
 And she studied etiquette, 
 Since the time when we were children 
 
 Or when we last had met. 
 
 Now if I want to visit her 
 And break our little caste-, 
 
 I must apologize and make 
 Atonement for the past. 
 
 But pride will not allow me to . 
 
 Admit that I was wrong, 
 So I'll wander back to Vermont 
 
 And join that weary throng 
 
 Of teachers in the public schools 
 
 Who labor all their day, 
 For a very poor existence 
 
 And very little pay. 
 
 My shadow of life is falling 
 Now, somewhat toward the east, 
 
 And with grey hairs and wrinkled face 
 I can't say I am pleased 
 
 With the hard lot I have taken 
 For what I might have been, 
 
 If I only kept my farm I'd 
 Be happiest of men. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 43 
 
 In every life there is a trait, 
 
 To send it up or down; 
 To cast gems in our rustic way 
 
 Or strand us in a town. 
 
 Now I'm a wreck of jealous pride, 
 
 My boyish hopes are gone; 
 And I must trip this weary way 
 
 Unfriended and alone, 
 
 And think of course upon the past, 
 
 Such times no more I'll see, 
 When I spent the winter evenings 
 
 Along with Anna Lee. 
 
44 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 I've waited round Micawber like, 
 "For something to turn up," 
 
 Hoping some lucky day to strike 
 Some pleasure in my cup. 
 
 I've sat beneath the noonday sun, 
 I've tripped the morning dew, 
 
 I've sipped the summer's sweet perfume, 
 And smelled the clover new. 
 
 But still the object which I seek 
 
 Is ever far away; 
 It matters not how much I speak, — 
 
 It never shows a ray 
 
 Of hope to light my weary road, 
 
 Or dim my fateful dreams 
 Which strike ambition with their goad 
 
 And cloud the brilliant gleams 
 
 Of what my destiny does show 
 
 In her reflecting glass — 
 That surely I should try to know — 
 
 That which will come to pass. 
 
 So now farewell to low desires 
 
 That lie around and wait, 
 For I'll burn on my altar fires, 
 
 Till I achieve my fate. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 45 
 
 MIND. 
 
 When the mind is wrapt in Morpheus* embrace, 
 And from cares of the world is fittingly free, 
 
 The placid profile of the sleeper's face 
 
 Tells naught of emotions the mind may see. 
 
 The mind is there more active than awake, 
 And follows the dictates of daily life 
 
 From the beginning, to where they will make 
 Our mental creations victors in strife. 
 
 The will of the dreamer is wrapt in repose, 
 Free from the mind which it seeks to control; 
 
 And there may forget all its troubles and woes, 
 While its phantoms are nearing their prom- 
 ised goal. 
 
 But memory tells of the freaks of the mind, 
 When the eye of the soul glances her way, 
 
 For there on the filmy structure 'twill find 
 The impress of pictures with which it did 
 play. 
 
 Those very impressions make life for us all 
 More easily lived while we linger here; 
 
 For happiness hinges on every call 
 Of those very pictures we cherish so dear. 
 
 But why is the will the guardian of the mind? 
 
 And why can't the mind in itself be free, 
 To build up creations endeavoring to find 
 
 Its favorite phantom whatever it be? 
 
46 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 The mind is the life which is destined to last 
 In the dim distant future we pray for now; 
 
 The will with the body will likely be cast 
 In the narrow walled chamber down here 
 below. 
 
 When the mind is free from the wills restraint 
 To wander with pleasure through fancies 
 domain, 
 Through the future unknown and old times 
 quaint, 
 To connect all the links in creation's chain. 
 
 Then it is genius the father of all 
 
 The legacies left by the world's great dead; 
 To be used and consumed by the great and 
 small, 
 
 In filling the vacancies in the head. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 47 
 
 A FESTAL DAY. 
 
 Each nation has its festal day, 
 
 Wherein it dedicates 
 Its pomp and power in rich array 
 
 To glorify its states. 
 
 Some unravel the scroll of time 
 
 To ages far away, 
 When glory spreads her wings sublime 
 
 Above some carnal fray 
 
 Others revert to ancient urns 
 , For an inspiring thought, 
 From where their hoarded glory burns 
 O'er battles bravely fought. 
 
 The whipped-out ashes of the past 
 Are sifted through and through, 
 
 Trying to make the spirit cast 
 Its glory o'er anew. 
 
 But times will change the same as men, 
 
 And nations live and die, 
 Despite the fact their origin 
 
 Seemed glorified for aye. 
 
 The cherished deeds that's long agone 
 
 Are rapidly replaced 
 By deeds of glory hourly done 
 
 By leaders of our race. 
 
48 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 To-day the greatest man of men 
 Is he who does the most 
 
 To rectify the world's sin, 
 And storm the monster's post. 
 
 So when the future lifts the veil, 
 Which now obscures our view, 
 
 The eyes of then may gladly hail 
 Our Festal fresh as new. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 49 
 
 LIFE 
 
 Between the cold and barren peaks 
 
 Of two eternities, 
 A little childish prattle speaks 
 
 Of the world's mysteries. 
 
 Life occupies the narrow vale, 
 Where blooms the summer green ; 
 
 And on the surf its ruffled sail 
 Is very often seen. 
 
 Beyond the distant mountain tops 
 
 Is the abode of death ; 
 On these peaks no traveler stops 
 
 To use his latest breath, 
 
 To help the weary pilgrims on, 
 
 Who here do wildly grope 
 Among the lights of other suns 
 
 To find their star of hope. 
 
 So if some passing soul should wait 
 
 A moment on the top, 
 And to us here below relate 
 
 The doings on the slope, 
 
 Beyond the peak which hides our view 
 From seeing the other side ; 
 
 We'd know the past, and future too, 
 Of all our human pride. 
 
50 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 HOBSON. 
 
 Hobson meant the same as joke, 
 
 The first I heard of it ; 
 Now 'tis wreathed in Battle smoke- 
 
 A hero every bit 
 
 Smoke, of course, will blow away, 
 And then we'll see his name 
 
 Above the bivouac and fray, 
 High in the lists of fame. 
 
 In the lists will it repose 
 Among the cool and great, 
 
 Who shed their luminous glows 
 Above their honored states ? 
 
 Oh no ! State lines never bind 
 
 A fame as high as his ; 
 Tis honored where'er mankind 
 
 In regal glory is. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 51 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 Reason is the agent by which mankind 
 Solves problems of life in a simple way ; 
 
 The troubles and trials he will always find 
 Are consigned to a cause without delay. 
 
 Instinct is the agent by which the brute 
 Reads the hearts and faces of all he sees ; 
 
 It enables the beast to institute 
 A cause and effect for reason's decrees. 
 
 The brute with instinct, the man with reason 
 Combine to know all there is to be known ; 
 
 But each in separate sphere and season 
 
 Lives and communes in a world of his own. 
 
 When reason and instinct unite in one, 
 A genius is born to grace our domain ; 
 
 It matters little in which it has come, 
 The manifestations are just the same. 
 
52 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 AN EXILE. 
 
 The river Thames was crowded 
 With ships from every sea ; 
 
 The flags at mast-head blended, 
 A charming sight to see, 
 
 Of nations that existed 
 
 Both near and far away ; 
 And yet their ships for England, 
 
 Ploughed through the ocean spray, 
 
 To try for traffic's margin 
 
 With Britain's pearly Isle, 
 And bring to anxious lovers 
 
 Albion's latest style. 
 
 Between the ships the surging 
 Of waves would go and come, 
 
 Or strike a ship abroadside 
 With sound like muffled drum. 
 
 On land were thronged the sailors, 
 Their provincial songs they sung 
 
 To notes of England's greatness, 
 Proclaimed in every tongue. 
 
 One ship from all was signaled— 
 
 She played a foreign air, 
 High on the topmast streaming 
 
 A foreign flag was there. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 53 
 
 Her sails were set for sailing 
 
 And tacking with the breeze ; 
 Her canvas showed the customs 
 
 Of narrow, crowded seas. 
 
 The gang-plank was not lifted, 
 
 As others would come on ; 
 On shore was seen approaching 
 
 Great Britain's greatest son. 
 
 His head was drooping forward, 
 His glance was on the ground, 
 
 His step was lithe and careful, 
 If caution could be found 
 
 In a heart tried, and bleeding 
 
 From every gaping pore 
 Made by the stabs of critics, 
 
 To drive him from their shore. 
 
 His hopes in life were blasted 
 
 By disappointed love, 
 Which guides the course of many, 
 
 And makes the mind to rove. 
 
 His face wore thoughtful wrinkles, 
 His hair was mixed with gray, 
 
 Although these aged fixtures 
 Showed premature decay, 
 
 His sparkling eye showed spirit 
 
 Of unexhausted fire, 
 His broad, expansive forehead, 
 
 A brain 'twas hard to tire. 
 
54 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 He wandered forth an exile, 
 
 To fade in other climes, 
 And in the hearts of strangers 
 
 Read friendship for his rhymes. 
 
 He reached the captain's cabin, 
 
 And took a long farewell 
 Glance at the towers of London — 
 
 The scenes he loved so well. 
 
 The ship sailed out to ocean, 
 The bard looked toward the shore, 
 
 And watched the last hill fading — 
 The hills he'd see no more. 
 
 "Roll on, thou deep, blue ocean," 
 
 Were the first words that he spoke ; 
 Tears on his face were streaming, 
 As if his heart had broke. 
 
 He watched the tossing billows, 
 Where the ship rose and fell. 
 
 Another glance toward England, 
 And said again, " Farewell, 
 
 Farewell, this time forever, 
 
 The nation I adore." 
 He uttered, glancing leeward : 
 
 " Farewell forevermore." 
 
 In time the ship had anchored 
 
 Outside a Grecian port ; 
 Ere long the bard was quartered 
 
 Before a Turkish fort, 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 55 
 
 To fight for Grecian freedom, 
 
 And help the struggling slave 
 On the historic mountains, 
 
 Whose base the waters lave 
 
 With the same surging waters 
 That two thousand years before 
 
 Buoyed a fleet at Hellespont, 
 To devastate the shore 
 
 Of every Christian nation 
 
 That lived beneath the cross. 
 'Twas there the cross and crescent 
 
 On every breeze did toss, 
 
 That wafted from the battle 
 Where Europe's hope was sealed, 
 
 To be a Christian country — 
 The cross upon her shield. 
 
 Ere long his broken spirit 
 
 Succumbed to fast decay, 
 Till the night of death released 
 
 The life he'd give away. 
 
 .Twas then the world proclaimed 
 
 The genius of the dead, 
 And naught a word of malice 
 
 Was in a word it said. 
 
 It saw through eyes of reason 
 
 The brightest light decline, 
 That ever shone in England, 
 
 Since earth first cycled time. 
 
56 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 To grace the brow of genius 
 Mankind prepares a wreath 
 
 Of thorns while he is living — 
 Of flowers when wrapt in death. 
 
 The low forehead of envy 
 Does always lurk around 
 
 The thorny briers and brambles, 
 Where genius first is found. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 57 
 
 MY LAST DAY. 
 
 To-day I lock the school-house door 
 And bid my friends farewell ; 
 
 I've labored here four years and more, 
 And done my duty well. 
 
 Successnow shines upon my work, 
 
 From every side it looks ; 
 But hidden envy always lurks 
 
 Outside the pale of books. 
 
 While I'm successful in the school, 
 
 As any one can be ; 
 There are some things not done by rule, 
 
 Which I will let you see. 
 
 Those little things which we neglect, 
 Will some day cast us down ; 
 
 To our hard lot, where we'll detect 
 The things we should have known. 
 
 The oldest boys did graduate ; 
 
 The oldest girls have gone ; 
 But younger ones will take their place 
 
 In filling up the room. 
 
 The directors have concluded 
 
 My wages are too high ; 
 And say they won't be deluded 
 
 With teachers such as I. 
 
58 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 When they can secure another 
 
 For nearly half the pay ; 
 And 'twill be but little bother 
 
 To let me go away. 
 
 So I must go, as I have said, 
 
 To seek another home, 
 Among the schools which need a head 
 
 To guide their work along. 
 
 There are " scabs " in all professions, 
 
 Likewise in every trade ; 
 And without the least concessions, 
 
 They keep success delayed. 
 
 The transient life I'm forced to live 
 
 Is fixed as a rule, 
 And is the fate of all who'll give 
 
 Their lives to teaching school. 
 
 And does the District gain thereby, 
 In getting cheaper straw ? 
 
 Oh no ! They blunt the minds for aye, 
 Of those which are not raw. 
 
 The mind which tries to train a mind, 
 
 Must lead it to a place 
 Where it can unassisted find 
 
 The joys in nature's face. 
 
 Or if it stops, perchance, half way, 
 
 Or if it is replaced, 
 It's silenced, like a tombstone, gray — 
 
 A monument defaced. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 59 
 
 Of all the minds there are on earth, 
 
 No two are just alike; 
 For some are more than others worth, 
 
 In reason and in strife. 
 
 The faculties don't act the same, 
 No matter how they're taught; 
 
 And educators must not blame 
 The talent latest bought. 
 
 The modern education, 
 
 Where teachers change each year, 
 Retards the civilization 
 
 Which we hope is drawing near. 
 
 The minds of old, which shed their lights 
 
 Unto this distant day, 
 Were tutored in their lofty flights, 
 
 By one mind, all the way. 
 
 But modern education — 
 Our so called Public Schools — 
 
 Have teachers in rotation, 
 Each serving like a tool. 
 
 To be used but for a moment, 
 
 And then be cast away; 
 And leave minds just like the comets 
 
 To wander all their day. 
 
60 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. , 
 
 DID YOU EVER? 
 
 Did you ever know a man, 
 Who when reason first began 
 
 To manifest its wonders on his mind ! 
 Did not commence to blunder, 
 And pick edicts asunder, 
 
 Like a critic of the very latest kind ? 
 
 Did you ever chance to know 
 How the juggler at the show 
 
 Manipulates your pocket book and hat; 
 How he ties himself with cords, 
 And unties himself with words, 
 
 While you strain your eyes to find where 
 he's at ? 
 
 Did you ever know a boy, 
 When he lost his latest toy, 
 
 Who would not say it was the very best, 
 That could anywhere be found 
 By the expert on his round, 
 
 'Cause he had put it to the hardest test ? 
 
 Did you ever know a maid, 
 Whose proposal is delayed 
 
 By the fellow who is holding her allot, 
 But is single through her choice, 
 Though she never heard the voice 
 
 To whisper in her ear the words she 
 sought. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 61 
 
 Did you ever know a youth, 
 But has always told the truth 
 
 About the latest mischief played in town; 
 And he swears he was not there, 
 But don't know exactly where 
 
 He was playing when that Summer house 
 fell down ? 
 
 Did you ever know a ma, 
 But can" always find a flaw 
 
 On all the other babies but her own ? 
 They all are very homely 
 Except the one that's comely 
 
 And that's, of course, her darling little one. 
 
 Did you ever know a pug, 
 
 When he's rapped across the mug 
 
 By the fellow who enticed him in the ring, 
 Who at first won't pout and prance, 
 Then ask for another chance 
 
 To demonstrate his novel knockout 
 swing. 
 
62 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 FINE FEATHERS. 
 
 A sportsman with his rifle bound 
 
 For the feeder— a grassy swamp, 
 Close beside him was baying his hound, 
 
 When the sportsman's impatient stamp 
 Caused the brute to lie low and whine, 
 
 Until his master's gun had lined 
 A bobolink — the first he found 
 
 Of her species in that morass — 
 The shot was fired, he sprang to find 
 
 The fallen bird among the grass, 
 And laid it at his master's feet 
 
 With his well trained disciplined greet. 
 
 Throughout that day the sportsman shot 
 
 Every denizen of that swamp, 
 That in the range of rifle got, 
 
 While he enjoyed his summer romp; 
 He bagged the gaudy feathered birds, 
 
 To hear his little daughter's words 
 Of pleasure at the songster's pomp, 
 
 While she selected plumes she sought 
 Among the matted feathers damp 
 
 To pair with those she lately bought; 
 In fixing up her summer's dress 
 
 To show more colors than the rest. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 63 
 
 That night his happiness boiled o'er 
 At the sweet looks his daughter gave 
 
 To the dead birds upon the floor; 
 Till she could find the plumes she'd have 
 
 To fix herself in rich array 
 
 For the approaching holiday. 
 
 But his glad heart could rise no more, 
 When she took up the bobolink, 
 
 And scanned his plumage o'er and o'er, 
 While her soft eyes began to blink 
 
 With swelling tears straight from her heart 
 
 To see the pride of poet's art 
 
 Brought to his death to please a whim 
 
 Of silly girls or hunter's shot; 
 And straightway here she did begin 
 
 To tell her father what she thought 
 About this cruel, cruel wrong 
 Of killing off the birds of song; 
 
 " Father," she said, " I never ought 
 
 To show a smiling face again, 
 As penance for those birds you've shot, 
 
 In trying to gratify my whim, 
 For here lies dead the happy lark 
 Which cheered my way from morn till dark. 
 
64 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 "And here, the black bird, always gay, 
 Is limp in death from your cruel sport; 
 
 The oriole and poor blue jay 
 Have had their little lives cut short; 
 
 The robin, too, the children's friend, 
 
 You killed her while she did defend 
 
 Her young from your unfeeling heart 
 Which prompted you to kill the birds 
 
 Which always strive to do their part; 
 Their happy ways speak more than words, 
 
 But now I fear the wood is bare, 
 
 For your cruel shot has sounded there. 
 
 "The wild canary and brown thrush 
 Are mingled in this heap of dead; 
 
 The songsters of the flower and bush, 
 This day their sacred blood have shed 
 
 To make for me a gaudy plume 
 
 That will outshine the roses bloom; 
 
 But should kind fancy ever lead 
 My footsteps o'er those woods again, 
 
 I'd want to hear those birds, now dead, 
 To sing, 'Forgive her father's sin;' 
 
 He did not stay in the morass, 
 
 Such birds as these don't live in grass. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 65 
 
 "Bryant gave to the bobolink 
 The sweetest song he ever wrote; 
 
 Lowell did from Pan's goblet drink 
 To sate his muse to sing a note 
 
 For this sweet songster of the mead, 
 
 Are they now looking at them dead ? 
 
 Fearing they are, I tell you now, 
 No matter what the world may think, 
 
 No feather will adorn my brow 
 Of songster such as bobolink; 
 
 Ne'er a plume will to me belong 
 
 Which robs the woodland of its song." 
 
66 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 PATRIOTISM. 
 
 Patriotism is very oft a word 
 
 That's passively spoken by one less inclined 
 To practice its pretexts. They're free as are 
 birds 
 
 To chatter with pleasure o'er their latest find, 
 Or change their relations concerning the flag, 
 The same as they would about any old rag. 
 
 But the patriot, who has suffered the test 
 Of proving devotion for his native land, 
 
 And wears the battle scars on his gallant breast, 
 Is always slow the cause to understand, 
 
 Why tin soldiers — sunshine patriots — are now 
 
 Always uniformed and looking for a row. 
 
 But the very moment when peace disappears, 
 And like distant thunder is Mar's trumpet 
 blast, 
 
 Then this professional patriot's ears 
 Are deaf to his nation's demands to the last. 
 
 The colors he wore and the flags he displayed 
 
 Now injure his eyes because he's afraid. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 67 
 
 Devotion for country should never be taught, 
 
 To make patriotic the rising young men ; 
 The home is the workshop where duty is 
 wrought, 
 In the minds of children their rights to 
 defend. 
 If the parents are just what they ought to be, 
 Our nation will ever and always be free. 
 
 If the nation is just in its course with all, 
 No jealousies then will ever arise ; 
 
 The peasant and banker will answer the call 
 To serve in the ranks in defending their 
 prize. 
 
 Then our defenders will trust inspiration 
 
 To make patriotic the young of our nation. 
 
68 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 AN EVIL. 
 
 What is the greatest evil 
 
 That faces us to-day, 
 When wizard, witch and devil 
 
 Are banished far away? 
 
 Why are not the present times 
 
 As hopeful as the past, 
 When exiles from barren climes 
 
 To us their hopes did cast? 
 
 Is it because this nation 
 
 Is now on the decline, 
 And every father's ration 
 
 Must serve his future line? 
 
 'Tis not more than forty years, 
 Since treasures rich and rare, 
 
 Decked the face kind nature wears 
 With every person's share. 
 
 But some far-seeing Shylocks 
 
 Are driving every hour, 
 Into the jaws of Moloch 
 
 Those who are in their power. 
 
 They grasp the shares of others 
 And impoverish the road, 
 
 That's traveled by their brothers. 
 While fleeing from the goad. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 69 
 
 This vast accumulation 
 
 Of wealth in very few, 
 Will surely strand our nation, 
 
 In the coffers of the Jew. 
 
 Discontent does now prevail 
 
 In every walk of life; 
 Very soon a stormy gale 
 
 Will'blow us into strife. 
 
 Where we will find our pretexts 
 
 Have very oft been wrong, 
 In divining ways perplexed 
 
 To build secure and strong, 
 
 A ship of state to weather 
 
 The ocean's stormy gales, 
 With friend and foe together 
 
 To hoist her spreading sails. 
 
 The rock where strands our transport, 
 
 Is now before the bow, 
 And those who lead our cohprts 
 
 Are steering for it now. 
 
 For millionaires spend away 
 
 Among the regal powers 
 Profits in a reckless way, 
 
 Constructing princely towers. 
 
70 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems 
 
 For nations are all workshops 
 Wherein their profits should 
 
 Be spent to make the worms stop 
 Destroying all the wood. 
 
 To repair the ship of state 
 
 With worm-eaten oak, 
 Is tempting a friendly fate 
 
 To deal our final stroke. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 71 
 
 A FOREST. 
 
 Behold the forest far away, 
 Fringed up beside the plain. 
 
 How gracefully its branches sway 
 Above the golden grain ! 
 
 The foliage is silvery sheen, 
 
 Reflected in the sun, 
 And shows off nature's gorgeous green 
 
 When twilight has begun. 
 
 /et for a view with naked eye, 
 There's naught so grand and fair; 
 
 Perfection seems to linger by 
 The scenes where forests are. 
 
 From where we stand we cannot see 
 The windfall on the ground, 
 
 Nor dried up branches on the tree 
 Where withered leaves are found. 
 
 The mighty oak the ljghtning cleft 
 
 Is hidden from our eyes; 
 The swarthy path the tempest left 
 
 Wears nature's rich disguise. 
 
72 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 Even the brush which grows beneath, 
 
 Is shielded by the leaves 
 Which circle round in verdant wreaths 
 
 Like beards on golden sheaves. 
 
 Such always should our nation be, 
 
 When sighted from afar; 
 The peering eye should never see 
 
 The conflict or the scar. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 73 
 
 GIFTS. 
 
 Of all the gifts which heaven reposed 
 
 In the clay of mortal man, 
 There isn't one which has disclosed 
 
 A reason why it began , 
 To inspire the spirit of him 
 
 Whose course it controlled in life, 
 To banish shadows dark and dim 
 
 For those who are wrestling strife. 
 
 Nature prepares a special gift 
 
 For advancing every art, 
 And silently its systems lift 
 
 The shade which surrounds the heart, 
 Which common talent can't remove 
 
 No matter how high attained; 
 The touch of genius is above 
 
 The loftiest peak e'er gained. 
 
 By talent's unrewarded toil, 
 
 While investing every cause 
 Where it labored — but to recoil 
 
 To the shore where genius was. 
 The search of talent often ends 
 
 In opening up the mind 
 To inspired thoughts which always send 
 
 Reason to the place 'twill find, 
 
 The object talent sought in vain, 
 While burning her midnight flame. 
 Talent is lost in inspired gain 
 The moment when genius came. 
 
74 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 THE PANSY. 
 
 I saw the pansy purple hued 
 
 Salute the sunny day; 
 Her plump petals were richly dewed 
 
 With nature's pearls of May. 
 
 On every tiny sepal point 
 
 Reposed a sparkling gem, 
 The like of which the earth's anoint 
 
 Can never place on men. 
 
 How frail and tender it appeared, 
 
 While decked in this array! 
 How modestly her petals feared 
 
 To kiss the welcome ray! 
 
 The pomp and power of wealth and fame 
 
 Were absent from her glow, 
 And yet the glory of a name 
 
 Is lost in pompous show. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 75 
 
 SELFISHNESS. 
 
 Were you ever at church with nothing to do 
 But watch the poor sinners as they saunter 
 past — 
 Pass judgment on dress goods — the old and 
 the new — 
 And wonder which ones were made o'er 
 from the last 
 Holiday dress which the wearer had worn ? 
 Perhaps you may wonder while watching the 
 style, 
 That every young maiden, as rosy as morn, 
 When inside the pew she sits next to the 
 aisle. 
 
 Even the old fellow who's nearing the grave, 
 
 Whose clothes are unbrushed and whose hair 
 is uncombed, 
 And to the late fashions has ne'er been a slave, 
 
 It is even doubtful if e'er he'd been groomed, 
 His devotions are bubbling out on his lips, 
 
 He hasn't an eye for the fashion in style; 
 He ambles straight forward and knowingly sits 
 
 Where least you'd expect him, right next to 
 the aisle. 
 
76 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 And e'en the decked maiden, who always comes 
 late, 
 With her ribbons and feathers flowing quite 
 free, 
 Marches straight forward with a well practiced 
 gait, 
 While her eyes are rolling on all sides to see 
 If there is not a place where vacancy broods 
 In the well filled pews where is flitting the 
 style. 
 In her face can be seen her different moods 
 As she looks for a seat that's next to the 
 aisle. 
 
 Of course the young fellow, whose linen is 
 white, 
 
 Is as pious and careful as man can be. 
 His head will not turn to the left or the right, 
 
 But his eyeballs are rolling, trying to see 
 The face of the maiden whose beauty he loves, 
 
 Where she is reclining in elegant style; 
 His chin is forward as he aimlessly roves 
 
 In search of a seat that is next to the aisle. 
 
 The old wrinkled woman approaches at last 
 
 The pew where she sat on the Sunday before; 
 Her spectacled eyes are reluctantly cast 
 
 On the charity pews set off for the poor; 
 She pauses before one and looks toward the 
 next, 
 
 While her withering glance peruses the style; 
 Her countenance shows as if greatly perplexed, 
 
 Her custom demands a seat next to the aisle. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 77 
 
 But when you see enter the careless young 
 child, 
 
 And racingly stops at the end of the pew, 
 You can see his sweet face has ne'er been defiled 
 
 By thoughts of position or fashions anew. 
 The hats and the feathers are lost to his gaze, 
 
 He recklessly glances above every style; 
 His simple devotion the pastors amaze, 
 
 For he never thinks of a seat near the aisle. 
 
 Greediness is stamped on the devotee's face, 
 
 And lust is betrayed by a half closed eye; 
 Ambition, itself, leaves a lasting trace 
 
 On the lips of the fellow it anchors by; 
 Envy will sneer at a rival's success, 
 
 And penury dress up in the latest style; 
 The miser floats ever his flag of distress, 
 
 But selfishness always sits next to the aisle. 
 
78 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 COMPARISON. 
 
 The leaves of the forest are withered and sear, 
 
 When grasped by late autumn's cold icy fin- 
 gers; 
 The hopes of the dreamer are never so dear, 
 
 As when the crystal transparently lingers 
 Before his closed eyes exposing her treasure 
 
 Of fancy's creations, whatever they be, 
 To build up the rythm the music and measure* 
 
 For poesy's fair muse in sweet harmony. 
 
 The crystal of life, however transparent, 
 
 Is decidedly dim compared with the ice; 
 We see through our glass the present apparent, 
 
 Without ever thinking of looking twice. 
 But the withering leaf while fanning the breeze 
 
 Tells all of its past and its future as well; 
 Its filmy gauze and its texture may freeze 
 
 Its last drop of life ere it says its farewell. 
 
 The withering human, when nearing the clay, 
 
 Gives a thought to the life with which it must 
 part. 
 Is it to exist in the dim far-away 
 
 Without the emotions of his buried heart? 
 But the leaf ere it flies with the playful wind 
 
 To be whirled to rest in the clayey mould, 
 Is sure that its life is secure behind 
 
 In the bud which defends it from storms and 
 cold. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 79 
 
 The human looks forward to heavenly bliss, 
 When the trials of earth and her cares are 
 o'er, 
 But the leaf will remain contented with this, — 
 To sway on the branch where it withered 
 before. 
 The life of the human proposes to find 
 
 An abode of pure joy where want is unknown, 
 Where conscience and sickness and sorrow 
 can't find, 
 The luminous way where the spirit has flown. 
 
80 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 OUR HAPPY DAYS. 
 
 To-day I stand upon the peak 
 
 Of many painful years, 
 And think of those of whom I speak 
 
 Through fastly falling tears. 
 
 The ones who joined my early play 
 Around the old brick school, 
 
 Are in my memory to-day — 
 Each striving for his goal. 
 
 Then our light hearts had known no care 
 That would distress our mind, 
 
 And every child who joined us there 
 Was happy, dear, and kind, 
 
 The toys of one belonged to all, 
 
 At least, we felt they were; 
 I cannot even now recall 
 
 A selfish motive there. 
 
 Our marbles and our tops we gave 
 To those who played the game, 
 
 To win or lose, to keep or save; 
 They were ours just the same. 
 
 And if a seat should vacant be, 
 
 For even half a day, 
 His schoolmates all would anxiously 
 
 Inquire why his delay. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 81 
 
 And if we found he was unwell, 
 
 And forced to stay away, 
 We'd to him all our stories tell 
 
 At close of every day. 
 
 Our latest toys, and money too, 
 
 We'd on him all bestow, 
 With hopes they would his life renew, 
 
 To join our playful glow. 
 
 But if th£ messenger of Death 
 
 Should linger at his door, 
 In wait to grasp his latest breath 
 
 When life's struggle was o'er, 
 
 'Twas then our tears were freely shed 
 
 Through sorrow and remorse. 
 We thought upon the words he said 
 
 While weeping o'er his corse. 
 
 Our aims in life were then as free 
 
 From selfishness and care, 
 As any life can ever be, 
 
 Where even seraphs are. 
 
 But now we've changed to full-grown men, 
 
 Who tread this dreary road, 
 O'er perished hopes and mortal sin, 
 
 Reaping what we've sowed. 
 
 We hold our share of this world's pelf, 
 
 And grasp again for more ; 
 Our only thoughts are for ourself, 
 While hoarding up our store. 
 
82 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 We grasp the shares of those we loved 
 
 In happy days, gone by ; 
 We impoverish them — unmoved 
 
 By e'en a tearful eye. 
 
 But still we're men, good business men — 
 
 That's what the people say — 
 But, O, how much we've changed, since when 
 
 We lived our childhood's day. 
 
 Charity then was Love's best friend, 
 
 And happiness was ours ; 
 But now our hopes will only end 
 
 In wrecking other powers. 
 
 Our selfish hearts have lost the love 
 
 Of happy childhood's time ; 
 We care not where our friends may rove, 
 
 In dark or sunny clime. 
 
 Then have we gained in holy light 
 
 Since we became full grown ? 
 Or are we fastly losing sight 
 
 Of lights we first had known ? 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 83 
 
 THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 Far out on the broad Pacific, 
 
 Close to Tahiti's shore, • , 
 
 Was a captain, quite prolific 
 About his Pagan lore. 
 
 And every sailor on the deck 
 
 Had lived for years on sea, 
 And not a one could see a speck 
 
 Of good in charity. 
 
 Among the crew, a clergyman 
 
 Was going forth alone, 
 To try and civilize a land 
 
 Where Pagan stars had shone. 
 
 By the crew he was jeered and mocked 
 
 For his ungallant stand, 
 In wandering where the billows rocked, 
 
 To reach a savage land. 
 
 By cannibals to be devoured, 
 And it would serve him right ; 
 
 For neither church nor any power 
 Should send him out of sight. 
 
 Because he showed a childish heart 
 
 In hitching to a creed ; 
 He should not be allowed to start 
 
 To sate the savage greed. 
 
84 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 For he could only do the same 
 
 As others did before— 
 He'd show good faith while on the main, 
 
 But fricassee on shore. 
 
 If he kept out of the soup-bowl 
 
 By practicing his art, 
 He'd surely strive to sink his soul 
 
 Behind a sinful heart. 
 
 Impostors never could succeed 
 
 In civilizing men, 
 Whose hopes were anchored to a creed 
 
 That never heard of sin. 
 
 The missionaries, every one, 
 Who sought those savage wilds, 
 
 Went forth intent on having fun 
 With savages beguiled. 
 
 Their lustful passions they display 
 
 Among the native maids ; 
 Their wily hearts they throw away, 
 
 To keep a creed delayed. 
 
 And then a creed — the hope of fools — 
 
 How could it help the man 
 Whose primal life had known no rules, 
 
 Beyond where it began ? 
 
 He kindly listened to their taunts, 
 Nor stooped to tell them why 
 
 He left the home fond memory haunts, 
 To wander forth and die 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 85 
 
 Among the natives of the sea, 
 
 In some forsaken land, 
 Where ne'er a friendly face he'd see, 
 
 Nor clasp a friendly hand. 
 
 He had a mission to perform 
 
 Among this savage race ; 
 He'd bare his breast to every storm 
 
 That struck his chosen place. 
 
 He'd teach the savage right and wrong, 
 
 The principles of Truth, 
 They'd join with him in holy song — 
 
 The grand sire and the youth. 
 
 The sailors could not read his mind ; 
 
 They could not rouse his ire ; 
 His course was frank and free and kind, 
 
 To every son and sire 
 
 Who tried their best to anger him 
 
 While they were on the sea ; 
 But always said, " When you slay sin, 
 
 You'll have respect for me. 
 
 " The cannibals on yonder shore, 
 Which I may hope to find, 
 Are simply men, and nothing more, 
 With instinct for a mind. 
 
 " Those very men before me now, 
 Who scoff and jeer at sin, 
 Perhaps have often wondered how 
 The miracles begin. 
 
86 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 " But should this ship be cast a wreck 
 Upon some lonely shore, 
 Then every man upon this deck • 
 Would blame eternal power. 
 
 " For stranding him so far away, 
 Out in the stormy sea ; 
 That very power he doubts to-day. 
 Would cause his misery. 
 
 " And if your race should there survive 
 Three generations more, 
 Men like me they would roast alive 
 For coming to their shore. ' 
 
 " They'd eat me, too — you doubt it now— 
 But here you will agree, 
 If you will wander back to how 
 You prayed at mother's knee. 
 
 " That time your simple, childish brain, 
 Could think of nothing wrong ; 
 Then to her simple music strain 
 You joined in sacred song. 
 
 " But now there's naught that you respect 
 As rights of God or man ; 
 Your mother's prayers you now reject 
 As a weak, childish plan. 
 
 " It goes to show how fast the change 
 From how our lives began; 
 A generation is the range 
 To change the life of man. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 87 
 
 " Then you would not dare to commit 
 Such thing as mortal sin, 
 But now you scoff and laugh at it, 
 And ridicule the men 
 
 " Who tell you just what you were taught 
 Beside your mother's knee, 
 When every hope in life was fraught 
 With Faith and Charity. 
 
 " Now see how much your life is changed 
 So tell me if you can, 
 If men who fall three times this range 
 Would fear to eat a man. 
 
 •' You boast of men that you have killed 
 In midnight's howling brawl, 
 To gain a conquest always billed 
 To grace the midnight ball." 
 
 That very night the setting sun 
 
 Did greet the rising moon, 
 But ere the next day had begun, 
 
 There came the wild typhoon. 
 
 It swept a thousand sails from sea 
 
 And terrified the land, 
 With broken wrecks cast on the lea 
 
 From the devouring strand. 
 
 Our captain's gallant craft, the Fan, 
 
 Was stranded on the beach 
 Of a small isle, where no sane man 
 
 Would ever dare to reach. 
 
88 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 'Twas seen by captain and his crew, 
 
 Some seven years before, 
 When a contrary tempest blew 
 
 Their craft against the shore. 
 
 " The savages on us did fall, 
 With greedy appetite ; 
 They caught a sailor, stout and tall, 
 After a vicious fight. 
 
 " They ate the man before our eyes, 
 While we released our craft ; 
 So now you see why I surmise 
 What the next breeze will waft. 
 
 " Of all the world, this very beach 
 Is most to be abhorred ; 
 This very night our bones will bleach 
 Upon their festal board." 
 
 So spoke the captain, with alarm, 
 While viewing a distant hill. 
 " I'll climb that hill to see what harm, 
 And you keep very still." 
 
 So saying, he crept upon the shore, 
 
 Fearing to stand erect ; 
 He crept a half a mile or more, 
 
 To where he could detect 
 
 The movements of the savages, 
 
 If any were around, 
 And where were bent their ravages 
 
 On that unhallowed ground 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 89 
 
 He raised his head above the grove 
 
 In such an easy way, 
 That they could hardly see it move 
 
 From the beach where they lay. 
 
 Slowly and high his head came out, 
 
 Until he stood upright ; 
 Then, waving his hat, with a shout 
 
 He said, " We're safe to-night." 
 
 They sprang at once upon their feet, 
 
 And hastened to their chief, 
 To see what pleasure he did meet, 
 
 Which moulded joy from grief. 
 
 He calmly stood upon the mound, 
 
 A smile upon his face ; 
 And pointed out what he had found, 
 
 That changed the dreary place. 
 
 A church was built upon the plain, 
 
 The steeple high in view, 
 And missionaries had reclaimed 
 
 The land from what he knew. 
 
 The clergyman then had his say, 
 
 His face was beaming bright : 
 ' There is no savage here to slay 
 
 One of your crew to-night. 
 
 ' That distant spire to all proclaims, 
 ' On earth good will toward men.' 
 No man that's cast on these domains 
 Will e'er be killed again." 
 
90 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 WAITING FOR BEN. 
 
 Her childish years had all been spent, 
 The time when first we met; 
 
 And blooming maidenhood had lent 
 Her charms I can't forget. 
 
 If Beauty ever built a maid 
 
 To captivate the heart, 
 Its charms on her were thickly laid 
 
 To demonstrate its art. 
 
 She was its sample of the best 
 
 And purest ever made; 
 And Beauty's work was surely blest 
 
 By all who knew the maid. 
 
 She was proposed to every day 
 By lovers wooing her then ; 
 
 She deftly turned them all away — 
 She was " waiting for Ben." 
 
 We met again in course of time 
 When many years were past; 
 
 It pained me very much to find 
 Her beauty fading fast. 
 
 The pretty face which led us all 
 To cast our hearts her way, 
 
 Was wearing nature's earthy caul, 
 By aging toward the clay. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 91 
 
 Her sparkling eye was just as bright 
 
 As ever it had shone; 
 Her happy heart was pure and light, 
 
 Though she was still alone 
 
 So to explain my early spark, 
 
 I quickly did begin — 
 And still there came the old remark: 
 
 "lam waiting for Ben." 
 
 Again' we met full forty years, 
 
 From when I saw her first; 
 Her brilliant eyes shone bright o'er fears 
 
 Wherein I feared the worst. 
 
 The raven hair of former days 
 
 Was now a snowy white; 
 And not a vestige met my gaze 
 
 Wherein I took delight. 
 Her shrunken face was yellow mail, 
 
 Her pearly teeth were gone; 
 Her ruby lips had withered pale, 
 
 And still she was alone. 
 
 All through those years of toil and care, 
 
 To the approaching end, 
 Her heart is always light and fair, 
 
 And still "waiting for Ben." 
 
92 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 THE RUFFIAN. 
 
 I was a stranger, but the maiden next me 
 Was the fairest, the fairest I ever did see; 
 Her pleasant, sweet voice, her mild hazel eyes 
 Filled me at once with all sorts of surprise. 
 
 I scanned my acquaintance this side of the sea, 
 Endeavoring to guess who this maiden could be; 
 I knew, in my life, had our eyes ever met, 
 Her beautiful features I'd never forget. 
 
 No lover paid court to this beautiful lass, 
 So I trusted kind fortune smiled on me at last. 
 I longed for a chance to move into the whirl 
 Of the dizzying dance with this beautiful girl. 
 
 I anxiously prayed, as I wished for a cause, 
 To show what a brilliant young fellow I was, 
 That something might rise to give me a start 
 To burrow my way right into her heart. 
 
 Right soon came a cause — a poor drunken man 
 Commenced by abuse angry passions to fan, 
 He was recklessly dressed, his hair was un- 
 combed, 
 Like a poor farmer's horse that had never been 
 groomed. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 93 
 
 His tongue kept a buzzing to this one and that, 
 
 Till the poor silly fellow got into a spat 
 
 With a lover who deemed his intrusion bad 
 
 grace, 
 'Cause he held his best girl right fast in em- 
 brace. 
 
 He kissed her and kissed her and wouldn't give 
 
 o'er, 
 Till the lover had knocked him down flat on 
 
 the floor. 
 The ladies were incensed, the gents showed 
 
 their spunk, 
 And ejected the fellow because he was drunk. 
 
 A good chance had come my mind to explain, 
 When I saw the poor fellow pitched out in the 
 
 rain; 
 So I hemmed and I hawed for a way to begin, 
 Then bolted straight out on the wages of sin. . 
 
 So after soliloquy loudly expressed, 
 Wherein I admitted and frankly confessed, 
 That of all the poor mortals I ever had seen, 
 He was the meanest and the vilest of men. 
 
 Then of the maiden who sat next to me 
 I ventured to ask who the ruffian might be; 
 Her countenance clouded, a hot flush to smother, 
 She modestly answered: "The man is my 
 brother." 
 
94 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 OUR CHAUNCEY. 
 
 Our Chauncey is genial, his words of good 
 
 cheer 
 Have a home-like tinkle for every ear. 
 From lowly to lofty, from first to the last, 
 The fortune of Chauncey has always been cast. 
 
 He feasted at banquet and joined in the health 
 Of Biddies of blue blood and Drexels of wealth; 
 He talked in the parlors and danced in the halls 
 And supped with the farmers in blue overalls. 
 
 His prowess as statesman is questioned by none, 
 For he knows every nation under the sun; 
 And who are its rulers and who are its peers : 
 They've been friends of his own for several 
 years. 
 
 He knows where they're strong and he knows 
 
 where they're weak, 
 And he is the fellow we should have to speak 
 For the cause of our state, when the nation's 
 
 dispute 
 About north sea fish or seal island bruit. 
 
 Whenever our diplomats find a hard case 
 Chauncey is always called into the race; 
 There isn't a question where diplomats cavil, 
 But Chauncey will surely make out to unravel. 
 
' The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 95 
 
 But when he is mentioned for office of state, 
 It matters but little if humble or great; 
 Then politicians who deem themselves strong 
 Will pounce on poor Chauncey with all sorts 
 of song. 
 
 About his position in railway disguise, 
 
 And darken his name with the blackest of lies. 
 
 If you should give heed to their stories of 
 
 pelf, 
 You'd think him monopoly all by himself. 
 
 He's above the low marts where mankind is 
 
 sold 
 To the world's traducers for glittering gold; 
 He denounces no caste wherein Freedom is 
 
 blest 
 But posesses his own and respects all the rest. 
 
 His prowess as lawyer stands high at the Bar, 
 But as a fine speaker he excels by far 
 The most renowned linguists, the races among, 
 As the ablest user of the English tongue. 
 
 We honor great Webster and sigh for poor 
 
 Clay, 
 And condemn our ancestors why did not they 
 Exalt those great fellows above all the rest, 
 And give us the seeds of the genius that blest 
 
96 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 The snow capped and loftiest peaks of their 
 mind, 
 
 To help us poor mortals to better mankind. 
 
 Had Webster e'er spoke from executive throne, 
 
 His words would have force when our lan- 
 guage is gone. 
 
 In others less gifted they placed supreme 
 
 power, 
 And we're pulling cockle to this very hour, 
 Endeavoring to clear the wheat from the weed 
 That we to successors might leave a pure seed. 
 
 But no. We can't do it, for envious man 
 Commands more attention than when we 
 
 began; 
 He denounces the men we advance for power 
 And praises himself as the fittest to tower 
 
 Among us as sample of self made man, 
 To educate himself in state if he can. 
 Of course he's elected; to Congress he goes 
 As poor as a pauper and nobody knows 
 
 How Washington gold makes a fellow like him 
 
 Appear with a headlight — a diamond gem. 
 
 In the west he buys lands, and stocks in the 
 
 east, 
 And comes back to tell us he's very much 
 
 pleased 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 97 
 
 With his seat in Congress, and that we will find 
 
 That he never for naught left our work behind. 
 
 The trusts will denounce him with their loud- 
 est curse, 
 
 While he makes his campaign with coin from 
 their purse. 
 
 But if we should advance our idol at last, 
 The very same combines their pilfer would 
 
 cast. 
 Right into the marker where voters are sold, 
 To buy up supporters with perfidious gold, 
 
 For the base purpose of defeating our cause 
 And advancing their own with iron-clad laws.; 
 For no one knows better than they who con- 
 demn 
 Our idols ambition, that all flagrant men 
 
 Who sip the red wine and join in the cry, 
 Know little of honor that money can't buy; 
 They think that because they get drink for 
 
 their votes, 
 The music of state is played from the same 
 
 notes. 
 
 While men of this caste hold the balance of 
 
 power 
 Our state must be humble and honor must 
 
 lower. 
 But give us the genius whatever his birth 
 And our nation will be the greatest on earth. 
 
98 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 HOMER. 
 
 In this pensive world of ignorance vast, 
 There lived once among us far back in the past, 
 A poor blind beggar who forced the first light 
 Straight into the heart of that terrible night. 
 
 When men by delusion endured the great 
 
 wrong 
 That the only rights were the rights of the 
 
 strong— 
 That every weak fellow this side of the grave, 
 Should bow to a master and serve as a slave, 
 
 He begged for his bread, as he wandered 
 
 around 
 To learn where the fairest of flowers could be 
 
 found; 
 That he if permitted could find fertile mould 
 To plant the fair blossoms in every fold. 
 
 He taught the young athlete who won the first 
 
 prize 
 In Olympic contests, that he who would rise 
 Above his surroundings in future must be 
 A warrior of mind, with intellect free. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 99 
 
 That to produce muscle was part of God's 
 
 plan, 
 The brain should be active in every man. 
 For in the dim distance the future did hold 
 The kingdoms of earth for the wise and the 
 
 bold. 
 
 His advice, though the best, found no place a 
 
 mark 
 Till Liberty's temples rose up from the dark; 
 His sayings were repeated, his parchments were 
 
 read; 
 The minds of the students were consciously 
 
 spread. 
 
 He set folks to thinking as part of his plan, 
 And he forced ideas right into the man. 
 'Twas all that was needed; the mind did the 
 
 rest; 
 Ere long, lusty mammon was sorely distressed. 
 
 When mammon sought succor his power to 
 
 maintain, 
 It mattered but little how many were slain; 
 His trouble to get it was merely to ask, 
 Ere the poor blind beggar accomplished his 
 
 task. 
 
100 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 But after the story he gave to the world, 
 
 The claims of great mammon were instantly 
 
 hurled 
 Straight back to the claimant with musical 
 
 ring, 
 That muscle is conquered and reason is king. 
 
 For had not his parchments been left to man- 
 kind, 
 Our intellects still would be cycles behind. 
 Though he labored for us, our ancestors old, 
 Beheld the poor fellow sleep out in the cold. 
 
 'Tis true of mankind from the first up till now, 
 That genius must always wear thorns on the 
 
 brow. 
 The poor friendless fellow did never know joy 
 For e'en the creation of Helen of Troy. 
 
 The beggar of Chios at last found repose, 
 
 In that narrow walled chamber where every 
 
 one goes; 
 When the spirit takes flight and leaves the poor 
 
 clay, 
 To be coffined and mourned and buried away. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Po*ms. 101 
 
 But as soon as the form is under the mould, 
 Then envious mammon the truth will unfold; 
 'Twill sneak off the surface that covers his 
 
 bones, 
 And weep and caress it in tenderest tones. 
 
 'Tis then' we poor mortals show grief for the 
 
 past, 
 And praise what we censured from first to the 
 
 last; 
 Then we see the great light which shed its 
 
 bright rays, 
 To illurnine the path of our future days. 
 
 Among the great living is many a man, 
 Whom we scourge to keep out his gift if we 
 
 can: 
 For low forehead envy does always lurk round, 
 The briars and brambles where genius is found. 
 
102 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 THE RAINDROP. 
 
 The tiny raindrop in the spray is such a funny 
 
 thing, 
 If we could only give it life, and trace it from 
 
 the spring; 
 It is an ardent worker and though tired, it 
 
 never sleeps, 
 But we'll forgive it always for the company it 
 
 keeps. 
 
 The little drop which gems the fern may deck 
 the briny wave, 
 
 Or form the tear which fondly jewels the blos- 
 som on our grave; 
 
 It forms the purest lily white this world ever 
 has seen, 
 
 As new blown snow across the fields to cover 
 up the green. 
 
 It foams beneath the cataract, it surges in the 
 
 rill; 
 Its geyser spray shoots heavenward, it trickles 
 
 down the hill; 
 It builds the rainbow in the sky and circles 
 
 round the sun; 
 It soothes the parching lips of thirst and cools 
 the burning tongue. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 103 
 
 It makes up the sweat of labor from which 
 vagrants recoil, 
 
 And salted well it trickles down the honest 
 face of toil; 
 
 It may change its earthy crystal and join the 
 hazy clouds, 
 
 That gather in the firmament and wear celes- 
 tial shrouds. 
 
 When the tempest blows most fiercely, it 
 sprays before the gale; 
 
 When the upper clouds are frozen, it beats the 
 earth as hail; 
 
 It makes the mist of morning which flies be- 
 fore the breeze, 
 
 And the murky fog so dang'rous in our nar- 
 row crowded seas. 
 
 It may fill the dimpled cheeks of the playful 
 
 happy boy, 
 And coursing, trickle from the eyes in pearly 
 
 jewels of joy ; 
 It may, perhaps, create a force of concentrated 
 
 power, 
 And drive the furious engine a hundred miles 
 
 an hour. 
 
 The loaf of bread — the staff of life — is laden 
 
 with this pearl ; 
 So is the pap that nourishes the little boy or 
 
 girl; 
 The onion, too, contains the drop which makes 
 
 the tears to start, 
 Without compunction in the mind or sorrow 
 
 in the heart. 
 
104 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 It was with fermented sugar when angry 
 
 passions rose, 
 Which filled the place with cries for " Help ! " 
 
 and murder's brutal blows ; 
 It formed a foam upon the lips when angry 
 
 words were said, 
 And placid tears above the bier when wept 
 
 above the dead. 
 
 It buoys the tiny boats of life while coursing 
 through our veins, 
 
 And helps to turn out gems of thought, while 
 coursing through our brains. 
 
 When pain contracts the torn flesh from bat- 
 tle's foremost strife, 
 
 Kind nature kindly scabs it o'er to help to save 
 our life. 
 
 But life can't last unless the blood will course 
 on as before, 
 
 And help to carry nourishment to bridge our 
 troubles o'er ; 
 
 The blood can't flow, for near the wound the 
 channels are not free, 
 
 Till the little drop of water leads on its com- 
 pany. 
 
 Down in the earth in hidden springs — a thou- 
 sand feet below, 
 
 The little drop pursues its work, in constant 
 steady flow ; 
 
 The oak tree draws it from the mould up 
 through its trunk to run, 
 
 Where, in its gentle, trembling leaves, it is 
 turned toward the sun. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 105 
 
 It takes the poison from the air which animals 
 
 consume, 
 And purifies it in the plant as nature's richest 
 
 boon ; 
 It courses through the veins of oak and builds 
 
 up every part, 
 With poisons which would life destroy, if sent 
 
 by throbbing heart. 
 
 In its m^ny different forms it serves at every 
 post, 
 
 In the air and in the ocean, never a part is lost; 
 
 Whenever the little drop of rain assumes celes- 
 tial glow, 
 
 It leaves all its earthly matter to moulder here 
 below. 
 
 Could we trace all other atoms of which this 
 earth is made, 
 
 We'd find it true of all of them when life be- 
 comes a shade ; 
 
 The life may wander far away, new changes to 
 enfold, 
 
 The earthy matter stays behind to join the 
 common mould. 
 
 What's true of every atom, is true, of course, 
 
 of all, 
 The spirit of man included, must answer 
 
 nature's call ; 
 When life's dear pleasures all are wrought and 
 
 we are called to go, 
 A little water in the throat is the last of life we 
 
 know. 
 
106 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 A STATUE. 
 
 ; That pedestal supports, my son, 
 The statue of our Washington. 
 His, my boy, is the greatest name 
 In this world's annals known to fame. 
 He won our freedom when 'twas thought 
 His wretched soldiers could do naught 
 Against such men as Britain sent 
 To man her mighty armament. 
 While he was slow, the wiles he knew 
 Of border warfare, and 'tis true 
 That ne'er a move he made in strife, 
 But bore rich fruits in after life. 
 He would retreat and seldom fight, 
 But now we see where he was right. 
 His blows when struck were hard to face, 
 And even Britons found the place 
 Where he arrayed his yeoman band — 
 The hardest spot in all the land. 
 When war was o'er he quietly spurned 
 A kingly crown and quickly turned 
 Soldiers' laurels to gems of peace, 
 By advocating a release 
 From all the powers in foreign cause, 
 In his advice on neutral laws. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 107 
 
 He clearly saw where danger lay 
 
 When he advised us to obey 
 
 His last request in his farewell : 
 
 To never barter, give or sell 
 
 The Freedom we so dearly bought 
 
 For foreign praise that stands for naught." 
 
i08 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 A LEADER. 
 
 Washington's death wrung from the heart 
 
 Tears that never an eye could start, 
 
 Among the men who stood by him 
 
 In strifes labyrinth dark and dim; 
 
 Even his foes (for he had few) 
 
 Had their half closed eyes dimmed with dew, 
 
 For well they knew, as well as all 
 
 When soldiers answered trumpet call, 
 
 A leader, true and staunch and brave 
 
 To win achievements they should have. 
 
 The quarter post was scarcely past 
 When Mars sounded the trumpet blast; 
 Our heroes came from home and farm 
 To sooth Old Glory in alarm. 
 At first of course defeat they met 
 A leader brave they had to get. 
 "Tippecanoe" was in the field, 
 And victories adorned his shield. 
 With great delight we hailed our chief 
 And firmly fixed a fond belief 
 That in the future he would stand 
 The greatest man in all the land. 
 Every paper conveyed a story 
 Of added laurels to his glory. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 109 
 
 Fut in the South a new star rose 
 Which dimmed our heroes with its glows — 
 Old Andrew Jackson, known to all 
 As " Old Hickory," lank and tall. 
 He proved himself beyond a doubt 
 The country's pride in every bout, 
 For down south where the river bends, 
 The sweeping torrent fury lends 
 To lave the hill and flood the plain 
 When swelled to fury by the rain 
 Which falls far north in every spring, 
 Old Andrew's trumpet call did ring- 
 To call to arms our soldiers true — 
 Our South'ren sons. 'Tis well they knew 
 Where Jackson's rifles held the ground. 
 Old Glory never would come down. 
 
 Another pause, then civil strife 
 Called again for the heroes life. 
 A million men at once did come, 
 And ne'er since Time had first begun 
 Was such a conflict waged by men, 
 To kill or keep a nation's sin. 
 Leaders rose from the ranks so fast 
 That West Point's power was felt at last; 
 And leaders, too, who rivalled fast 
 The greatest leaders of the past. 
 The Grecian captain's highest flight 
 Was dimmed by Grant's heroic fight. 
 
110 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 
 
 In mountain breeze above the clouds, 
 
 Where cannon's smoke created shrouds 
 
 Of sulph'rous vapor for the vale, 
 
 Which darkly rolled before the gale; 
 
 Where stoutly stood the braves of Bragg 
 
 Defending every peak and crag. 
 
 Proud Caesar's legions ne'er did stand 
 
 Firm as Lee's on the Rapidan. 
 
 Sherman's cohorts advanced a way, 
 
 To conquer foes without delay; 
 
 And with but little loss of life, 
 
 For thought was first in every strife. 
 
 Old " Pap " Thomas would always stand 
 
 Till victory was in his hand. 
 
 The critics often thought him slow, 
 
 But "Pap " himself was sure to know 
 
 The safest chance where he was right. 
 
 The critic's pen could win no fight, 
 
 With reason lost and war begun, 
 
 The best pen is a loaded gun. 
 
 And earth has ne'er produced a man 
 
 The peer of our Phil Sheridan. 
 
 His eagle eye could always see 
 
 To make defeat a victory. 
 
 Through four long years of awful strife, 
 
 Phil never failed to risk his life 
 
 Mid cannon shot and bursting shell, 
 
 Where many gallant heroes fell. 
 
 His flag was in the thickest fight; 
 
 And foes could never muster might 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 111 
 
 Powerful enough to make him beat 
 
 What every soldier knows — retreat. 
 
 The greatest soldiers of the past 
 
 Had somewhere on their 'scutcheons cast, 
 
 A mark to show where they had lost 
 
 A battle at some border post. 
 
 But Phil got through, how e'er 'twas done, 
 
 The greatest and the only one, 
 
 Whose laurel trimmed with jeweled stars, 
 
 Hangs highest on the brow of Mars. 
 
 Others, too, we recall with pride, 
 
 Are Logan, Hancock, and Burnside, 
 
 But why draw out, ere we name all, 
 
 Every name on the roll we'd call. 
 
 Now, for leaders we have no fear; 
 West Point gives hundreds every year. 
 Our army leaders are to-day 
 Heroes tried from the blue and gray. 
 And every man in North and South 
 Will face the belching cannon's mouth 
 Without delay and without fear, 
 When he sees danger drawing near. 
 
112 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 THE TAPERS. 
 
 The greatest captain of an age 
 
 Is a bright name on history's page. 
 
 He is the idle of his time, 
 
 Beyond his home in every clime 
 
 Where Mars arrays the men of war, 
 
 To right the wrongs of misused power; 
 
 His name is loved by every one, 
 
 Regardless of the place he's from. 
 
 This page to-day we deftly turn 
 
 To where our heroes' tapers burn; 
 
 And watch the lights as they flit past 
 
 The transom where our gaze is cast. 
 
 We know the tapers every one, 
 
 And cheer them, too, as they come on; 
 
 The heroes' tapers do not show 
 
 All lights alike in brilliant glow; 
 
 For some less bright than others are 
 
 Just like the names they're standing for. 
 
 Our navy's tapers passing by, 
 
 Have always caused a jealous eye 
 
 To frown upon their brilliant light, 
 
 'Cause every one shines full and bright; 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 113 
 
 But still as brightly as they burned, 
 
 Some brilliant lights were somewhat turned 
 
 To shed their flames much lower down 
 
 Than Trafalgar's effulgent one, 
 
 Which flashes out above the rest, 
 
 As if its wick was lately dressed. 
 
 The brightest light does often sit, 
 
 Upon the taper latest lit; 
 
 It flickers first until it finds 
 
 The height at which its blaze must shine; 
 
 So give it time to flicker down, 
 
 Until its level it has found. 
 
 When the flitting glare leaves the light, 
 
 Then it has found its proper height; 
 
 But Nelson's light is surely one 
 
 That never will shine lower down; 
 
 The flame e'en now seems not so tar, 
 
 Since it rose up at Trafalgar. 
 
 We watch the list of tapers through, 
 
 Until the last is flashed in view; 
 
 Its flame is bright and calm and high, 
 
 And burns like Nelson's flashing by; 
 
 The brilliant flame is strange to all; 
 
 Ne'er before has it joined the call 
 
 Of flaming tapers in review, 
 
 A stranger here ! Tis something new, 
 
 To join the list without a song, 
 
 To tell the people where its from. 
 
 We glance above the latest flame, 
 
 And trv to read the hero's name. 
 
114 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 In living light the letters burn 
 Which make the name we want to learn. 
 Our dazzled eyes succeed at last, 
 In making out the letters cast 
 Above the tapers brilliant glow, 
 Where shines the name we want to know- 
 It's a veteran, scarred and gray, 
 The hero of Manila Bay. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 115 
 
 LITTLE NELLIE 
 
 Tucked in upon her low pallet, 
 
 In agony she lay, 
 And called her weeping mamma, 
 
 To hear what she would say. 
 
 " I know, my dear mamma," she said, 
 "That you've been sorely tried, 
 And well remember how you wept 
 When brother Charlie died 
 
 " Tis long you've grieved and sorrowed, 
 But this will be your last, 
 For ere to-morrow's sun is set 
 I'll be among the past. 
 
 " You must not give up to sorrow, 
 Nor weep above my grave, 
 But always think of Jesus and 
 The promise that he gave. 
 
 " If you only knew my suffering, 
 You would not shed a tear, 
 But gladly welcome Angel Death 
 To take me out of here. 
 
 " When I wear the wings of heaven, 
 And fly from star to star, 
 I'll often wander back to earth 
 To witness how you are. 
 
116 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 " I'll often be close to you when 
 You think me far away; 
 Perhaps I'll be beside you when 
 You weep above my clay. 
 
 " Although you cannot see me, you 
 
 Must always think me near, 
 
 For I'll leave the joys of heaven 
 
 To comfort you down here. 
 
 " And when at last the time will come 
 That you be summoned too, 
 Myself and brother Charlie will 
 Come gladly after you. 
 
 " But till that time whate'er befalls, 
 Be ever strong and brave, 
 And always think of Jesus and 
 The promise that he gave." 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 117 
 
 THE OLD FORT, 
 
 I. 
 
 Long ago down on the Lake front, 
 
 Where Chicago stands to-day, 
 Old Fort Dearborn's hoary turrets 
 
 Reared aloft their heads of grey. 
 Not the heads of rock and granite, 
 
 Which compose the battlement; 
 Nor the modern inlaid earthwork, 
 
 Which our cannon cannot dint. 
 The genius of geometry 
 
 Was to Indian wars unknown; 
 His savage mind had never learned 
 
 How to batter down the stone. 
 But the bark roofs of the settlers 
 
 Were the turrets old and grey; 
 And the cross above the mission 
 
 Was the banner of that day. 
 Jn the mission house on Sundays 
 
 Prayed the red man with the white 
 To the Universal Ruler 
 
 For the same directftig light. 
 They were taught by priest and preacher, 
 
 What was right and what was wrong; 
 They learned the Sunday canticles 
 
 And joined the whites in holy song. 
 
118 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 The fields of maize fair were growing 
 
 As the products of their toil; 
 They travailed on unitedly, 
 
 Reclaiming the virgin soil. 
 The red man's hope seemed come at last 
 
 To ransom his ruined name 
 From mankind's ancient chronicles 
 
 Who had sunk it deep in shame. 
 
 A fallen chief — old Watusset, 
 
 Lived with whites since he was young; 
 He had learned their books and language, 
 
 And also the boyish tongue. 
 But among the old traditions 
 
 Of the heroes of the tribes, 
 Was one that the fallen sachem 
 
 Had traded his rights for bribes. 
 Like an old family fixture, 
 
 He was held in high esteem 
 By young and old of the mission, 
 
 For the service he had seen 
 Among the early pioneers 
 
 To the uncivilized West, 
 Who left their homes and relatives 
 
 And families richly blest, 
 To dearly earn their existence 
 
 In the mission near the lake — 
 To trim the primeval forest, 
 
 And the virgin soil to break. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 119 
 
 Old Watusset served a household 
 
 In the way an old man can, 
 Doing the light work for the women 
 
 Like a good and faithful man. 
 Every day he rocked the cradle 
 
 Of his mentor's only child, 
 Born in their low log cabin, 
 
 In that fortress bleak and wild. 
 Years passed on with old Watusset 
 
 'Till the child became a maid 
 Who respected the old Indian, 
 
 For the hosts he had arrayed 
 In defending from invaders 
 
 The land where his fathers lay. 
 He told her the warlike stories 
 
 Of the tribes of early days, 
 Until her early history 
 
 Of all the country around, 
 Was laden with the traditions 
 
 Which with savages are found. 
 This man the family trusted 
 
 In many different ways, 
 Until they formed the belief 
 
 That words of the highest praise 
 Could not exalt this fallen chief 
 
 Above his virtuous ways. 
 The maid had every confidence 
 
 In this man of many years; 
 She told him the difficulties 
 
 Which had caused her childish tears. 
 
120 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 She regarded his instruction 
 As the wisdom of a sage, 
 
 Bubbling over with prophesies 
 Too rich for history's page. 
 
 III. 
 
 But growing crops could not persuade 
 
 That aboriginal man, 
 From following the winding paths 
 
 Which through the wild forest ran. 
 A home to him was the wigwam 
 
 In that shady forest dell, 
 Among the beech and poplar trees 
 
 Where his father's foemen fell. 
 His impatient heart responded 
 
 To the legends of the fights, 
 Where his forefathers contended 
 
 For the soil against the whites. 
 How they lived and how they battled,— 
 
 How they died upon the plain, 
 Striving for emancipation 
 
 From the white man's iron reign. 
 How a later generation 
 
 Of those early vanquished sires, 
 Sought comfort in the domiciles 
 
 Of their father's foemen's fires. 
 These thoughts were not original 
 
 With the Indian of that day. 
 In the forests were the teachers 
 
 In their treacherous array, 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 121 
 
 Planning for the early downfall 
 
 Of the unprotected fort, 
 Joining with the subdued savage, 
 
 Practicing his early sport, 
 Leading him away from culture, 
 
 From his bark-roof in the fort ; 
 Showing him the life of thralldom 
 
 He had taken for his sport. 
 The passive life of the white man — 
 
 Drudgery his chosen lot. 
 From day to day and year to year 
 
 He is working round his cot. 
 
 IV. 
 Soon the war-blast loudly sounded — 
 
 Foreign foes were close at hand ; 
 The mission to a fort was formed 
 
 To repulse the coming band. 
 A few soldiers from the army 
 
 Joined those early settlers there, 
 Hoping to defend the fortress 
 
 By their strict, untiring care. 
 The small crops were early garnered, 
 
 In the fort were stored away, 
 To protect against the famine 
 
 Which accompanies the fray. 
 In this work the red man labored, 
 
 'Neath the scorching summer sun, 
 Side by side with his white neighbor, 
 
 Until all the work was done. 
 
122 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 To the south the dread Tecumseh 
 
 Made his way the year before — • 
 The agent of confederates 
 
 Who had conned his troubles o'er 
 Hoping to arouse his passion 
 
 O'er his treatment by the whites, 
 Saying that the Indian people 
 
 Never would have equal rights. 
 In the south he formed a union 
 
 Of the southern Indian tribes, 
 Saying the government's promises 
 
 Were the cheapest kind of bribes. 
 His words had force with the Indians, 
 
 Who willingly donned their paint, 
 And retired from homes and harvests 
 
 To their customs old and quaint. 
 From the fort they all departed 
 
 In the silence of the night, 
 And joined the foe in the forest, 
 
 To assist him in the fight. 
 
 V. 
 On the fifteenth day of August, 
 
 More than eighty years ago, 
 Fort Dearborn had to surrender 
 
 To that compromising foe, 
 Who compromised with the red man, 
 
 That his ally he should be, 
 In gaining numerous battles 
 
 From his father's enemy. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 123 
 
 When the fort capitulated, 
 
 The children, women and men, 
 Asked protection from the victor 
 
 'Gainst the savage Indian fiend. 
 Protection was quickly promised, 
 
 To those who laid down their arms. 
 Soon the dreadful Indian warwhoop 
 
 Ruffled their well ground alarms. 
 No protection there was offered 
 
 To man, woman, maid or child, 
 While the cruel Indian savage, 
 
 Every sacred right defiled. 
 Men were tortured on the curbstones; 
 
 Maids were ravished in the streets; 
 Babes were pinioned to their mothers. 
 
 Or else strangled at their feet; 
 Children were thrown from bayonets 
 
 To be caught on other spears, 
 By the practiced Indian devils 
 
 Who had lived with them for years. 
 Oh ! but could the English mothers 
 
 See the work their sons had done, 
 Of rope, death, and desolation, 
 
 To their kindred, everyone, 
 By making the savage Indian 
 
 His accomplice in the fight; 
 Then leave him to take and pilfer 
 
 Lives and homes of every white. 
 'Twould be difficult for Britain, 
 
 In the future years to come, 
 To muster into her service 
 
 The erudite English son. 
 
124 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 VI. 
 
 When the dread warwhoop was sounded, 
 
 'Twas the warning knell of death, 
 To those living in the fortress, 
 
 "That they'd drawn their latest breath," 
 The maiden saw her own mamma 
 
 Led captive through the town, 
 And saw her fiendish torturers 
 
 Dancing and whooping around 
 The stake where she was to perish, 
 
 As others had done before. 
 She saw the cruel indignities 
 
 Her patient mamma bore, 
 Till she had fallen exhausted, 
 
 From the pains of knife and fire, 
 In the damp slow burning fagots, 
 
 Which formed her funeral pyre. 
 She quickly fled to her father, 
 
 Protection hoping to gain, 
 Only to find that his sad lot, 
 
 Was to be the first one slain. 
 Then she sought the old Watusset 
 
 The friend of her family, 
 And begged him to save her life 
 
 From that awful butchery. 
 In his grim way smiled the Indian, 
 
 And brandished his tomahawk 
 Before his ghastly painted race, 
 
 Before he commenced to talk; 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 125 
 
 Of course he meant to save her life 
 
 From the world and'friends, he said, 
 Then, striking, cleft her through the brain 
 
 And left her among the dead. 
 An allied soldier saw the deed 
 
 And said, " Was she not your friend! 
 How could you then in such a case 
 
 Enjoy her untimely end ?" 
 But the* chief whose face was kindled 
 
 By the bloody work he'd done, 
 Raised up the gory tomahawk 
 
 And pointed it toward the sun 
 " He is the friend of every one 
 
 Who lives in the wood and plain, 
 He gives us all both warmth and light, 
 
 And he drenches us with rain; 
 He also disturbs our reason 
 
 By his awful summer heat, 
 And then again he will refuse 
 
 Frigid winter back tc beat; 
 He kills us so. Yet he's our friend, 
 
 For he helps us every hour. 
 Now, he knows why he acts this way. 
 
 More than any earthly power. 
 It takes courage to kill a friend, 
 
 Any coward can kill a foe ; 
 And I have proved to the world 
 
 What my people want to know.'* 
 
126 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 THE SONG BIRD. 
 
 The song bird charms the wood and vale 
 
 With his warblings fair and free ; 
 He's charmed alike with breeze and gale, 
 
 And his songs o'erflow with glee. 
 
 The torrents sweep the mountain side ; 
 
 The hurricanes sweep the plain ; 
 And clouds the smiling sun may hide 
 
 Till they drench the earth with rain. 
 
 All through the songster flutters round, 
 
 Not unlike a frightened child ; 
 The woods have changed his charming sound 
 
 For the tempest fierce and wild. 
 
 When he locates the haunts of men, 
 
 He will always linger near, 
 Until the sun shines out again, 
 
 When he sings his songs of cheer. 
 
 His nest perhaps may suffer some 
 
 From the tempest's raging blast ; 
 But just as soon as welcome sun 
 
 Divides the clouds overcast, 
 
 He quickly to his nest repairs, 
 
 And is singing all the time ; 
 Quite happy o'er his little cares 
 
 Which are rocked by soothing winds. 
 
 He has no time for dark despair, 
 
 Nor to complain about his fate ; 
 But always will kind nature share 
 
 In joyous strains, soon and late. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 127 
 
 THE GREATEST MAN. 
 
 What man is greatest among us here, 
 
 Where large and small their tasks pursue ? 
 Each in separate course and sphere 
 
 Is laboring for something new. 
 Something new is what is wanted, 
 
 Everywhere its praise is chanted. 
 So we all strive to be the first 
 
 To advocate a novel scheme, 
 To grasp the minds for best or worst 
 
 Of those who follow our regime. 
 If best our plan must be devised, 
 If worst 'tis easily revised. 
 
 So if our plans successful be 
 
 In grasping followers by scores, 
 Our greatness and our destiny 
 
 Depend upon our use of power. 
 That it must never be abused 
 
 But be liberally diffused 
 Among the ones we want the most, 
 
 (Who always are outside the fold ) 
 And never think upon the cost 
 
 Or what is paid in treasured gold 
 For getting them to join our plan 
 In building up the greatest man. 
 
128 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 No man is great wheree'er he be — 
 
 No matter what he does for man, 
 Unless those men will all agree 
 
 It's wisdom to adopt his plan, 
 And place him high above the rest 
 
 With which this world is richly blest. 
 His products then are greeted fast 
 
 By those who understand his way; 
 His conquests, too, are proudly passed 
 
 By friends who join him every day. 
 So far he's working for the state, 
 His works are free — therefore he's great. 
 
 When he begins to charge a fee 
 
 For the great products of his brain, 
 That he may build a dynasty 
 
 To leave to man his future train, 
 His greatness fades like morning mist 
 
 Before some sun far down the list. 
 For mankind makes its greatest man 
 
 With praise or blame, which e'er it be; 
 He is greatest who works for man 
 
 And never charges any fee. 
 He who tries to better mankind 
 Is building up the future's mind. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 129 
 
 UNCLE SAM. 
 
 Uncle Sam has a grey beard, 
 His hair is long and white; 
 
 And no power has ever heard 
 Of him doing aught but right. 
 
 By Uncle Sam, years ago, 
 Was built a stately arch; 
 
 Meant to all outsiders show 
 Where his defenders march. 
 
 Equal Rights to all mankind 
 Are the foundation stones; 
 
 Ancient customs cast behind 
 Ring out his cymbal tones. 
 
 Sacred Freedom is the next 
 Marble he mortised down, 
 
 Hoping that sectional texts 
 Would never show their frown. 
 
 Justice rests below the key, 
 And makes the arches' curves; 
 
 'Twill fall at the first degree 
 That from its course it swerves. 
 
 Liberty is the key stone 
 Of Uncle Samuel's arch, 
 
 Where unsheltered man alone 
 Can all times safely march. 
 
130 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 DESTINY. 
 
 What is the course of heaven's blest 
 While struggling on this mundane sphere, 
 
 Where weary souls can never rest, 
 To shed the long collected tear? 
 
 From year to year they onward toil, 
 And ne'er forget to kneel and pray 
 
 To the great Father of us all 
 To guide their actions every day. 
 
 They deal just with their fellow men, 
 According to the laws of God; 
 
 They abhor always the world's sin 
 And the path which satan has trod. 
 
 But will they triumph over death 
 Amd leave the slab to mark the clay, 
 
 When soul and motion life and breath 
 Will be transported far away ? 
 
 Where no atonement and no sin 
 Will ever strike their sacred ears; 
 
 Where all the faithful women and men 
 Will live and love for future years. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 131 
 
 THE TREASURER. 
 
 If ever I wander to heaven — 
 Which I earnestly hope that I will— 
 
 I'd like to see Ingersoll given 
 The care of the heavenly till. 
 
 With money, the price of his labor, 
 While leading his tirade on hell, 
 
 He never allowed a poor neighbor 
 His coat for a supper to sell, 
 
 But has always to charity given; 
 
 He's well known at the homes of the poor; 
 So if he's till keeper in heaven, 
 
 We'll never be sent from his door. 
 
132 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 NARROW MINDS. 
 
 Obstinacy, combined with pride, 
 Oft plunges nations into war; 
 
 But when these failings are allied 
 With inborn weakness to abhor 
 
 The habits and beliefs of those 
 
 Whose sacred customs we oppose, 
 
 We trip them every step they take, 
 Endeavoring to make them fall; 
 
 And just because opinion's sake 
 Is laboring to keep them small, 
 
 They can not grow while we are near; 
 
 Our persecution is severe. 
 
 Of liberty we loudly boast, 
 
 And say that Freedom is our child, 
 And clamor for an armored host 
 
 To down the customs we reviled. 
 For practicing what we oppose 
 Is done by none but bitter foes. 
 
 For all that Freedom means to us, 
 And what we hope it means to all, 
 
 Is to protect us. We are just, 
 In trying to cause the early fall 
 
 Of these with whom we disagree 
 
 In Faith and Hope and Charity. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 133 
 
 While envy reasons in this way 
 
 To elevate itself above 
 The enemies it hopes to slay, 
 
 By keeping ever on the move 
 Behind the heels of those opposed, 
 Like a whipped cur afraid of blows, 
 
 We cannot hope to ever be 
 The greatest people on the earth. 
 
 For not until the mind is free 
 Has Freedom gained what it is worth. 
 
 We must respect the good in all 
 
 Our citizens the great and small. 
 
134 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 Jean Jacques of the past, 
 In a dungeon was cast, 
 
 For advising the poor how to live. 
 And Schiller fled fast 
 From laws that were passed, 
 
 Condemning the writings he'd give. 
 
 The gifted Voltaire 
 Was cast in despair 
 
 By the nation he hoped to defend ; 
 He sought mountain air 
 in Switzerland fair, 
 
 Where his life could flow on to the end. 
 
 Mirabeau was thrown 
 In a dungeon of stone 
 
 Which the peasantry called the Bastile, 
 To make him bemoan 
 The seeds he had sown 
 
 In defending the commonweal. 
 
 Our own Robert Morris 
 Got everything for us 
 
 That honor and money could get, 
 But Congress, dolorous, 
 For what he did for us 
 
 Saw him cast into prison for debt. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 135 
 
 The great Berenger 
 In prison did lay 
 
 For pictures his fancy portrayed, 
 M. Zola to-day 
 In prison must stay 
 
 For the converts his genius has made. 
 
 But reason grows best 
 When the mind is at rest 
 
 From the tumult and strife of the hour; 
 And fancy is dressed 
 To relieve the oppressed 
 
 From the thralldom of tyranny's power. 
 
135 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 OUR CONGRESS. 
 
 " Our Liliputian Congress" — What a name 
 
 To apply to a reminiscence of fame ! 
 
 'Twas not so far back since great Webster's 
 
 debates 
 Gave classics to schools and glory to the 
 
 states; 
 He was rivalled for power by the famous Clay; 
 And John C. Calhoun had something to say; 
 And Old Rufus Choate— the pride of the Bar — 
 Faced Corwin's artillery like a brave tar. 
 Stephen A Douglass— the big " Little Giant," 
 As Lincoln's opponent was never suppliant. 
 And Prentice — Proud Bacchus — from the sunny 
 
 South 
 Silenced all speakers when he opened his 
 
 mouth; 
 For big words and phrases were ready to flow 
 As wit, logic, and wisdom, when he let them go. 
 
 But what is there now to replace the great 
 
 past? 
 There's nothing done now which is destined to 
 
 last. 
 Our statesmen's opinions are now very few 
 And come from such privates as Chauncey 
 
 Depew. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 137 
 
 When foul legislation the tax-payers will rob, 
 
 We ask for a remedy of " Pagan Bob;" 
 
 And if there's an act we want cast in the shade, 
 
 We request Bourke Cockran to lead the tirade. 
 
 On finance we listen to W. J. Bryan, 
 
 And doubt his logic, but he'll succeed in time. 
 
 When people are suffering from tyranny's 
 ills, 
 
 We enjoy an oration from L. L. Mills. 
 
 When the treasury's gold has largely been spilt, 
 
 We advise with Rockafeller or Vanderbilt; 
 
 Those men are rich; they know how to get 
 gold, 
 
 But we can't use them till our pockets are cold. 
 
 When our state's been insulted by foreign 
 power, 
 
 Henry Watterson then is our stately tower. 
 
 Should the men we have named join Congress 
 to-day, 
 
 Prosperity would dawn without much delay; 
 
 And hundreds of others who well might be 
 named, 
 
 Could free our fair maiden, who now is en- 
 chained. 
 
 So give us the statesmen, whoever they be, 
 
 To call up our far flown prosperity. 
 
138 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 As Tonor sat musing o'er cases recalled, 
 By presiding judges o'er sessions of court, 
 
 His fingers slipped free o'er a pate growing bald, 
 As he tipped back his chair to indulge in his 
 sport. 
 
 He glancingly winked at his partner wise, 
 And he shifted his* cud to the other jaw; 
 
 Then twitching his lips he rolled up his eyes, 
 And talked of a ludicrous scene that he saw, 
 
 About Adamsen, out on a tandem wheel, 
 With a maid whom he met just three days 
 before; 
 He could imagine how that fellow would feel, 
 If he knew that the scene was now being 
 talked o'er. 
 
 'Twas in the South Park, where the Midway 
 Plaisance, 
 Attracted the crowds at the late World's 
 Fair, 
 By teaching our natives a civilized dance, 
 Not practiced by patrons of the round or 
 square. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 139 
 
 As the tandem passed by the beautiful green, 
 
 Where Cairo's Pavilion had formerly stood, 
 
 She remarked that the happiest days she had 
 
 seen, 
 
 Were spent wriggling in dance 'neath an 
 
 Egyptian hood. 
 
 u In that very spot, where that beautiful tree, 
 Now spreads it's broad branches and sighs 
 with the breeze, 
 
 The Egyptians and Turks, the Kaffirs and me 
 Hobnobbed the hoboes of highest degrees." 
 
 Poor John looked amazed when he saw what 
 he had, 
 Mistaken for a beautiful summer queen; 
 He bore on the pedals as if going mad, 
 As he pedaled and pedaled away from the 
 scene. 
 
140 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 COMPLAINT. 
 
 Critics complain about Lowell's fame, 
 That he never had done his best; 
 
 That his pieces, always light and tame, 
 Were written his active mind to rest. 
 
 Of Lytton they made the same complaint; 
 
 He wrote his fancy to please his mind. 
 In both, the critics will darkly paint 
 
 The wondrous genius that lay behind. 
 
 They complain that both were men of wealth, 
 And never obliged to write for gain; 
 
 Both were robust in physique and health, 
 And never had known starvation's pain. 
 
 Then critics must be lavishly paid 
 For their critiques on the poet's art; 
 
 But let not their reason be delayed 
 By thinking tlje poet gets a part. 
 
 The poet now, like Homer of yore, 
 While he's putting his fancy in rhyme, 
 
 Must beg for his bread from door to door 
 Like the vagrants of every clime. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 141 
 
 A LAWYER. 
 
 On the back of a lawyers card 
 I wrote these original lines : 
 
 " Your work is never very hard — 
 You fatten up on culprits crimes. 
 
 Yet a necessity you are, 
 
 In helping us to keep the peace; 
 You pant and wrangle at the bar, 
 
 In trying to "send up," or release. 
 
 You advocate the vilest act 
 
 That man commits against the state; 
 You use your fertile brain and tact 
 
 The ends of justice to belate. 
 
 You clamor loud against a wrong, 
 Unless employed to prove it right; 
 
 And then you'll face the angry throng 
 To prove that darkness is the light. 
 
142 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 A SEA FIGHT. 
 
 A fight between two ships of war 
 
 Sends thunders o'er the sea afar ; 
 
 It far exceeds the thunder's roar, 
 
 Reverberating on the shore. 
 
 The fire and smoke which fills the air 
 
 Obscures the view we'd like to share ; 
 
 But on the deck where heroes stand 
 
 As calm and cool as on the land, 
 
 The plowman cultivates his corn, 
 
 Or schoolboys greet the rosy morn. 
 
 The glass is raised to catch a view 
 
 Of the opposing vessel's crew; 
 
 And stern is given the command 
 
 For the marines to closely stand 
 
 Beside their guns with greatest care, 
 
 Direct their aim where foemen are. 
 
 The foemen too must do the same, 
 
 For their last shell has shown good aim. 
 
 It burst beneath the captain's feet, 
 
 And quite upset our sailors' mete 
 
 About the foemen's distant shells 
 
 Which burst out where the sea nymph dwells. 
 
 But this one struck the ship amain, 
 
 And of our sailors, four were slain ; 
 
 But "Fighting Bob" stood in the tower, 
 
 While shot and shell did closely pour, 
 
 Directing gunners where to shoot 
 
 So as to reap the richest fruit. 
 
 Straight at his foe his steel is cast, 
 
 Until their white flag climbs the mast. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 143 
 
 A SLAVE 
 
 A slave is one who crouches down 
 Before a master's cruel hand ; 
 
 He cannot call his life his own, 
 But waits abjectly the command. 
 
 A slave is one who drinks too free 
 The red wine and the juice of corn, 
 
 Until he prates as foolishly 
 As at the time when he was born. 
 
 A slave is one to fashion set, 
 
 Who starves himself to keep in style, 
 Whose every course in life is fret 
 
 With festoons of deceit's defile. 
 
 A slave is one, though high in power, 
 Who's guided by another's mind ; 
 
 Just like an antiquated tower 
 Which shows the battlements behind. 
 
 A slave is one whose wealth is vast, 
 Yet fears to trust his countrymen, 
 
 Lest some unseen foeman should cast 
 His salver down for vulgar kin. 
 
144 The Schoolmaster and Other P^ems. 
 
 LAUGHTER. 
 
 The morning scene was fresh and fair, 
 And clouds the sun was after; 
 
 The woodlands echoed everywhere 
 With peals of boyish laughter. 
 
 The scene was pleasant as could be 
 For bodies tired and weary, 
 
 Yet every eye could plainly see 
 Expressions dark and dreary. 
 
 Yet every peal from boyish lips 
 Dispelled a scowl from others, 
 
 For happiness forever ships 
 Contagion to its brothers. 
 
 The same of sorrow may be said, 
 
 Where it preponders ever; 
 It always lingers round the dead, 
 
 But with the happy — never. 
 
 So let the boy laugh loud and free 
 
 Wherever he may wander, 
 He'll help to fill the world with glee 
 
 And expel sorrow yonder. 
 
The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 145 
 
 GLADSTONE. 
 
 Every century since time began, 
 Left earth the fame of a clever man. 
 Each generation leaves us a mark — 
 A man whose fame has shone like a spark 
 Of radiant light on time's vast shore, 
 Showing the rocks where were wrecked before 
 The traders' craft, while searching for spoil, 
 Among the ruins of foemen's toil. 
 
 The century's mark is a mountain peak 
 Which covers the vale and desert bleak 
 With soil from its slopes cast down in floods 
 To nourish the plain, the mead and woods. 
 It gives mankind what the future holds 
 Of garnered stores more needed than gold. 
 
 A century mark indeed was he 
 
 Whom now we mourn, though across the sea, 
 
 His life was spent to better his race 
 
 And give all mankind a higher place 
 
 In the world's sanctum. He welcomed all 
 
 In their upward flight. The great and small 
 
 Stepped aside and allowed him to lead 
 
 Three generations in rapid speed, 
 
 Away from the dark which dimmed the eyes 
 
 Of our first parents in Paradise. 
 
146 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 
 
 He was great living. He is greater dead. 
 
 Forever will live the words he said. 
 
 far in the future, when great names dim, 
 
 He'll shine as immortality's gem. 
 
 But he'li be alone among those dead, 
 
 In the Abbey vaults, whose narrow beds, 
 
 Confine largely generation marks, 
 
 Whose lights were dimmed by some later 
 
 sparks. 
 But give him, O give him company. 
 Byron and Shakspeare with him should be. 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologies 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
 (724)779-2111