m^i 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap. . . Copyright No._ 
 Shelf___^__l'P_x6 
 
 ^kff 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

OCT 8 11898 
 
INTERMITTENT 
 
 THOUGHTS. 
 
 MRS. EMILY M. BLAKESLEE BOYDEN. 
 
 "AUNTIE EM." 
 
 Author of 
 
 *'LiTTLE Ruth the Toothache Girl," '-Auntie Em's Songs, 
 'Song Leaves for Children," 
 
 SEP 26 \mfi 
 
 Copyiighted April 1, 1897. All rights reserved. 
 ^ V I UNION PUBLISmNG»C07T 
 
 UNION PUBLISI 
 
 864 N. HalstedSt. 
 Chicago, III. 
 
16743 
 
Debicateb 
 
 WITH LOVE AND ESTEEM 
 To My Eldest Son, 
 
 jienry D. Boyden, ]V[. D. 
 
SALUTATION. 
 
 This little fugitive from justice is sent out not to 
 search for new friends, nor to enlighten the wise, hut as 
 a loving messenger to those near and dear to me. 
 
 Bespectfully, 
 
 THE A UTHOB. 
 
Children^ mine^ when shadows gather 
 "^ Bound thy hearthstones^ lone and drear; 
 
 Longing^ wishing for thy Mother^ 
 Then these lines will seem most dear. 
 
 Ah! His then these various fragments 
 
 Will he sought as echoes dear^ 
 Wot for value of the segments^ 
 
 But thy Mother wrote them here. 
 
 Hours of joy and hour's of grieving 
 
 Penned she thoughts^ as dews will fall; 
 
 Penned them as the muse relieving 
 Aching hearty or joy withal. 
 
 Let it seem like Mother talking., 
 Wliiling thus an hour away; 
 While our souls are thus communing 
 Gather hlessings while ye may. 
 
MUSIC. 
 
 A Fragment, 
 
 hs^ wood and valley, o'er the plain and hill, 
 #We hear the song of birds, both sweet and shrill; 
 
 ^Themurm'ring brook, the gentle soughing breeze, 
 The roaring torrent, north winds 'mong the trees. 
 The east wind's sad refrain, as drop her tears. 
 And man with voice of praise, all nature cheers. 
 Thus, music fills the parts of Nature's whole — 
 Each hath its charm that permeates the soul. 
 
 The music of the birds, the brook, the wind, 
 Fulfills its mission, thrills the heart, the mind, 
 The music in the soul shines forth — such bliss! 
 No grander music do I crave than this; 
 For aye! when thus imbued by Nature's throes 
 The soul of mortal man with music glow. 
 
8 — 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we 
 will."— Hamlet. Act V. scene 11. 
 
 ^HEN looking backward o'er life's changing scenes 
 jFrom joy to grief, from grief to joy, 1 see 
 Thy hand, O, Tliou great Leader, showing me 
 Though I may plan and boast, it intervenes. 
 A higher mind with nobler thoughts e'er reigns 
 To guide aright my erring feet and keep 
 Them oft from slipping — Marah's waters deep — 
 That I may land, "dry shod," on Jordan's plains. 
 
 Then, why, my soul, this ever strong desire 
 To venture forward — hasten untried schemes, 
 To vaunt in face of fact, "/ree a^eni" themes. 
 When Thou, O, God, dost reign? Why, thus conspire 
 To controvert Thy word and ways, Thy plans, 
 Say will is free, when Death ^^free agenV^ strands? 
 
— 9 
 
 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 .ONG years swept by of sunshine, clouds and rain, 
 ^And through the mixture gleams of joy and grief, 
 •The heartfelt joy so varied, transient, brief; 
 The longing, trusting, breaking hearts scarce deign 
 To catch the silver glinting light beneath 
 The cloud which thus the burdened souls ensheath. 
 But, lo! amid this darkness, not with chain 
 Are bound our many sorrows, but with tie 
 
 So fragile, that the voice, the plaintive cry 
 For light, for mercy, joy, will break its strain * 
 O'er burdened heart, and light and love bestow: 
 The soul's then filled with praise, no clouds, no woe, 
 Bat all is peace, the heart attuned to joy, 
 Transcendent love for God, without alloy. 
 
10 — 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 (Written on Pike's Peak, August 19, 1889.) 
 AimudelU,336.ft. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED. 
 
 Thou Most High, wilt deign draw nigh and fill 
 !Me with Thy Presence, whilst I bow my head 
 In humble adoration? When from o£E 
 This lofty peak I view the vastness of 
 The panorama spread before me, thoughts 
 Come over me of those who've questioned Thee — 
 The Godhead right, as 'twere an idle tale; 
 And yet, could they have viewed this landscape — 
 
 this 
 So full of beauty of sublimest form. 
 Bestowing e'en a single thought on one 
 Grand portion that Thou hast conceived, brought 
 
 forth. 
 How could they've longer doubted that Thou art 
 O, God, Omnipotent, Who formed the earth? 
 
 Most noted Peak, upon thy top I sit 
 In rapt amazement. When along thy side 
 I rode, I gazed, in wonder, at thy grand 
 Imposing height, and vast immensity, 
 But, lo! upon thy crown as one entranced 
 With awe I view the varied fancies of 
 The Artist true, aye, God's own handiwork. 
 In word could I give vent to thought, I'd write 
 
— n — 
 
 It here, but, ah! so meagre effort is 
 
 That's human, words inadequate I find 
 
 T' express from depths of soul so wrapt in thought 
 
 Of God's sov'reignty — o'erpowering all. 
 
 Thou grand and lofty Peak, as morn illumes 
 
 Thy brow and shadows fall around on rocks 
 
 Of lesser mould thy greatness to enhance, 
 
 The mem'ry wanders back to days long past 
 
 When searchers sallied forth for gold within 
 
 Thy breast; who fell by savage hand or gaunt 
 
 Despair, their expectations unfulfilled; 
 
 Whose bones now lie all bleached among the rocks 
 
 And sage-bush on the plains, their names unknown. 
 
 In silence standest thou regardless of 
 
 Their fate. As I look down from off thy crest 
 
 Of stones and view the endless landscape o'er. 
 
 Thy grandeur into insignificance 
 
 Doth sink beside the wisdom His Who made 
 
 Both thee and all I see before me now. 
 
 To view this scene sublimest thought is reached 
 
 And all that's human naught, beside our God. 
 
 DREAMING. 
 
 IREAMING I heard quaint music long, — 
 IFaint echoes came adown the years 
 [From David's harp, from Sappho's song, 
 From Lydian lyres, that charmed mine ears. 
 
12 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 'OFT breath of June, with skies of deepest blue, 
 ^With floating, fleecy clouds of palest hue, 
 How love I thee. 
 
 How love I thee who bringest velvet lawns. 
 
 The song of birds, the breath of new-mown hay. 
 
 While roses rare fill in the niches, where 
 
 Sweet fragrance play. 
 
 E'en berries, ripen red — thy sun's warm glance. 
 
 And crickets, hop-toads, cross my path perchance 
 
 To frolic in their glee. 
 
 And, as I swing ixi hammock low. 
 
 My varied fancies come and go 
 
 While list'ning to the twitt'ring bird; 
 
 Or, in a listless languor, dwell 
 
 On thoughtless word. 
 
 A word that lingers in my brain 
 
 Like cank'rous acid eating in. 
 
 Where long in sorrow it hath lain, 
 
 Now courts this soothing balm. 
 
 Sweet June, art thou not happy 'mid thy train 
 
 While scatt'ring rose-buds, where the snow hath lain, 
 
 And spreading o'er the ground a mantle green 
 
 While silver maples shimmer o'er the scene? 
 
 I know thou art, for all aglow 
 
 Each plant and bush (they seem to know 
 
— 13 — 
 
 Sweet June is here.) 
 
 And skipping 'round their dams are seen 
 
 The lambkins white on grasses green, 
 
 While, through the whole, the humid air 
 
 Dispels all thought of needless care. 
 
 Ao o'er the fields I cast mine eye, 
 
 A flight of meadow-larks I spy; 
 
 The cattle tramping clover heads 
 
 As rush they from their rough-hewn sheds 
 
 To drink the waters of a brook 
 
 That ripples, ripples, ever ripples through 
 
 Each nook along. 
 
 Soft summer June, a lay I'll sing, 
 
 While fingers tremble o'er the string 
 
 Of my guitar. 
 
 I'll sing to thee in softest strain 
 
 Of joys I've tasted o'er again; 
 
 I'll play and sing a slumber song 
 
 Thy genial spirit brought along 
 
 And gave to me. 
 
 Ah! tarry long, prithee, dear June, 
 
 That I may breathe thy sweet perfume; 
 
 Then, as thou pass mine humble door, 
 
 Just let my spirit go before 
 
 So I will find the evergreen 
 
 Where thou dost rest in quarantine. 
 
14 
 
 To JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 
 
 On his 8kth, Birthday, Dec. 17, 1891. 
 
 fAY I greet thee, tlio' a stranger, 
 
 Lay one leaf — tho' meager be — 
 ^•Underneath thy crown of laurel. 
 Sing one song of praise to thee? 
 
 In thy reaping soon as scatter'd, 
 Richest harvest, meeds of praise 
 
 Rare as roses in the winter 
 Come to thee — ere end thy days. 
 
 Years a many thou hast fed us 
 Food so choice, that angels heed: 
 
 Rare and richest gems in story 
 Sad or solemn as we need. 
 
 Scarcely thinking, all unheeding 
 Who should drinli this nectar thine, 
 
 Thou hast poured from out thy chalice 
 Floods of choicest, purest wine. 
 
 Still sing on, thou vet'ran singer, 
 Songs of beauty rich in thought; 
 
 For thy songs I cherish greatly; 
 Happy, pleasant hours they've brought. 
 
 Could I only touch thy garment, 
 
 Kneel in shadow at thy feet; 
 Then, on me thy mantle falling, 
 
 Joy on earth would be complete. 
 
15 
 
 Far from tliee may Death be 
 
 Mind of thine as noonday sun; 
 Basking e'er with full fruition, 
 
 In the honors thou hast won. 
 
 Yi'lets yellow I would send thee, 
 
 Lilies pure lay at thy shrine; 
 Pansies sweet, unrivaled tokens 
 
 Of the joy thy thoughts refine. 
 
 Take thee, then, these peerless blossoms, 
 Fragrant as thy thoughts are dear; 
 
 Take them, with the best of wishes, 
 As thy Birthday houteniere. 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 To Mrs. F. C. on the birth of her little daughter. 
 
 'Ruth little baby-girl, rosy and dimpled, 
 Up as a fairy she came unto thee; 
 To thy nest, there to nestle, while claiming 
 Holiest, fondest of love. — Ah, me! 
 
 Came with a smile, as a trust to thee sacred. 
 Loaned from the Father's most precious of pearls; 
 Enthroned as a queen till Death's dart thrusting 
 Veil the bright eyes, the dimple and curls. 
 E'er till thou hearest the call of the Master, 
 Lovingly beckoning with Him to roam 
 Away from thy care and motherly loving. 
 Noiselessly, fearlessly, bears thro' the gloam 
 Dearest of jewels, the joy of thy home. 
 
— 16 — 
 
 TO MY DAUGHTER HELEN. 
 
 On her Birthday. 
 
 [IS morning hour. How can I tune my lyre 
 To sing thy praises true — so grand thy life? 
 Yet, fain erect would I a worthy pyre 
 Of words bereft of flatt'ry's nothingness; 
 And tho' my muse may fail me in my zeal, 
 Perhaps the fondness I express may shield 
 The lack of grace and genius in my soul 
 And heal the wound it makes. Forbear if words 
 Mul'tudinous distract, encumbered 
 Each line with fulsome verbiage, and naught 
 Of beauty's curves in purity of thought 
 Appear to draw thee near the subject I 
 Would treat. The subject, ah! the record true 
 Of daughter mine, and, such it is, I'll raise 
 My feeble voice to speak of virtues rare, 
 And purity of purpose. Naught but flow'rs 
 When wet with dew dispelling fragrance rare, 
 Could e'er compare with thee. Thy life work could 
 Not be enhanced in worth by honeyed words 
 Or fulsome praise, e'en were it penned in phrase 
 Sublime; but echoes back unselfish true 
 Devotedness. This birthday morn, thou asked 
 Some thought from me, thy Mother. Would I had 
 The power to pen my thoughts, the choicest gems 
 I'd place upon the shrine of love, and bear 
 Them thee, — ay, then 'twould be but aftermath 
 The harvest gleaned — while incense from my heart 
 Would rise in gratitude to Him Who gave 
 Me thee, my daughter. ***** 
 
— 17 — 
 
 REPLY. 
 
 To "IF THOU ART" A poem by May Ferrand. 
 
 [ho' never from thy lips a prayer arise, 
 Thy Father doth thy inmost soul perceive; 
 ^The latent spark within, He'll ne'er despise 
 But fan it into flame, and thus relieve 
 The doubting, darkened soul when trial underlies; 
 'Tis then, the quickened spirit prays, retrieve. 
 
 Yes, He will come to thee. He knows thy need 
 E'en tho' thy faith as grain of mustard be; 
 He'll ne'er forget, but watch the bruised reed. 
 Abide His time: — one seeming blind, may see 
 How kindly pitieth He without the need 
 Of weak petition — and how near to thee. 
 
 From out the heart the echoes come of ill 
 Or good, if heart be longing, why, then, prod 
 With doubts and fears? why not find pleasure still 
 In asking what is not revealed but known to God? 
 Tho' small our knowledge is beside His will, 
 Yet, not a sparrow falls without His nod. 
 
 From Marah's waters deep He'll lift thee up 
 Till thou wilt question not nor doubt His love 
 Who said: — "My sheep w;i7i hear my voice." Look up 
 When glitt'ring scenes allure and tempt to rove; 
 Within thy breast conflicting doubts may rupt 
 Thy peace, but, list! thy Maker reigns above. 
 
— IS — 
 
 UNION OF BLUE AND GRAY. 
 
 (Written and set to Music by request.) 
 
 {Dedicated to Capt. W. F. Wilkins, A. M. M. D.,of Kansas City, Mo.) 
 Vol. Ill, Auntie Em's Songs for Children. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1891. 
 
 §s e'er falls the dew of the ev'ning, 
 It falls o'er the brave and the true; 
 While sunshine, or storm of the morning, 
 Affect not those sleeping in Blue. 
 
 The season, tho' heat of the summer. 
 Or frost of the cold winter day. 
 
 Alike to the brave Southern sleeper. 
 The soldier who sZeeps in the Gray. 
 
 The slave is now freed from his shackles, 
 The warring of brothers is o'er; 
 
 So painful, so sad is the, story, 
 None can but regret and deplore. 
 
 Had ransom been paid from our treasure, 
 Redeeming the "down trodden slave," 
 
 And lives of our white brothers spared, 
 Then all were as loyal as hraDe. 
 
 We wake to our follies with sadness. 
 Too late to redeem what we've lost; 
 
 We weave in the wreath with the laurel 
 The rue, with regret at the cost. 
 
 The Union, ah! naught could it sever, 
 So firmly, so staunch was its hold; 
 
 Our Flag, although marred was the treasure, 
 So sacred in every fold. 
 
19 
 
 The darkness has merged into sunlight, 
 With stars added new since the fray; 
 
 Lie buried the anger and hatred, 
 In Union of Blue and the Gray. 
 
 Then clasp we our hands as &7'aue soldiers., 
 With joy at the dawn of each day; 
 
 Cement thus forever our friendship 
 By Union of Blue and the Gray. 
 
 To the HON. JUDGE THURMAN. 
 
 On his SEVENTY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY. Nov. 13, 1890. 
 
 op ail! noble Chieftain! this, thy natal day, 
 iHl greet thee with good cheer, for thou so long 
 ^Hast led with flag unfurled, that even I 
 May dare to send a message full of praise, 
 And thus with laurel crown thine silvered hair. 
 Thy theme has been of sterling worth to all 
 Who'd h«ed^ the card'nal point in ethics true. 
 How few the land^raarks yet remain to tell 
 Benighted minds the truths that underlie 
 Our Nation's clouds, that greed and crime hath caused, 
 I wait, with bated breath, who next will reign; 
 And, in this quiet way, acclaim my hope 
 That then the red bandana'll float and wave 
 Above the ranc'rous crowd — the leaders blind 
 Who seek for office — gold; alas! through shame. ■ 
 Long may thy life be spared to scatter truths, 
 Thy brilliant mind be clear, as crystal light, 
 Till thou art crowned our favored honored Knight. 
 
— 20 — 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 Fair Cuba^ Hail! 
 
 Fair Cuba, fettered island in the sea! 
 
 Js justice better served, by serving thee 
 ^ jWith hands imbrued with blood — men slain 
 To set thee free — forgetful of the Maine? 
 Ah! no! 'twere better far to ask — demand 
 A ransom, and a forfeit of the land 
 To plant a standard strong for Freedom's shrine; 
 Thy people's freedom from a tyrant's grasp; 
 From Weyler's cruel sting like venom of the asp. 
 Then o'er the Cuban graves the grass would grow 
 Well watered by the tears of friends who know 
 How deep their suff 'rings were — how base the deed 
 That marked them victims of rapacious greed. 
 Then hail! fair land, as we our loved ones send 
 To bring thee peace and plenty till the end. 
 The task is great, the noblest part of all, 
 'Tis freely done, tho' husbands, sons, may fall; 
 Tho' dark the cloud may no more blood be shed; 
 May thy good guardian angel guide and spread 
 His wings o'er all, till peace brings healing balm 
 And Freedom's blossoms flourish 'mid the palm. 
 
— 21 — 
 
 THE RIGHT VIEW. 
 
 trav'ler, resting at the Inn 
 ;0f Eoderigo, bold and thin, 
 'Was asked, if he e'er went to war, 
 If he a veteran soldier were? 
 
 The hale old man, his chair astride, 
 
 Looked up and said: — "Whate'er betide 
 
 I ne'er have laid a brother low, 
 
 I ne'er could be induced to go 
 
 And fight my neighbor, wrong or right, 
 
 As I view manhood through my light. 
 
 Ha! why should I a keeper be 
 
 Of brother man who equals me? 
 
 While I think this way he thinks that, 
 
 So 'twixt the two, 'tis tit for tat. 
 
 I've heard a tale full often told 
 
 That broth' rly love be pure as gold; 
 
 That -He's the Captain, He the Judge, 
 
 'Tween brothers when they hold a grudge." 
 
22 
 
 LEAVES OF AUTUMN. 
 
 Vol. Ill, Auntie Em's Songs for Children. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, AND SET TO MUSIC. 
 
 iRiFTiNG, drifting, sere and yellow,' 
 Kipened leaves at Autumn's call; 
 
 ^O'er the fields by rains made mellow; 
 Withered, dying, thus they fall. 
 
 In their lives so full of beauty, 
 Shadowed they the great and small; 
 
 Lived and died, yet, did their duty; 
 Faded, fallen, brown their pall. 
 
 ^Nature's mold is thus the richer, 
 Stronger'll grow the mother tree; 
 
 Spring will bring again in beauty, 
 Brighter, greener leaves to see. 
 
 HIS PROMISE SURE. 
 
 :ast down? ah! no, but lifted up, 
 The surging billows o'er the breakers bore 
 
 jMy bark, and left my sorrows (bitter cup 
 I was to drink) beneath the waves e'ermore. 
 
 Thy words of promise, sacred words. 
 
 Came whisp'ring peace and hope; Thy store 
 
 Of love so free — like oil sweet calm affords 
 As when the waves beat on the shore. 
 
23 
 
 ISAIAH. XLI. — 1^ 
 
 |EAR Father, hold my hand, 
 
 I feel the chill of eve, 
 [The dewy dampness dread; 
 O, Father, take me home. 
 
 I feel the deep'ning shade 
 Of the dim fllck'ring flame, 
 
 As darkly grows the light, 
 And I am nearing Thee. 
 
 O, lead me boldly o'er 
 
 The breaking billows, lest 
 I faint — am swallowed up 
 
 Beneath the angry waves. 
 
 Throw 'round me strength'ning grace, 
 
 Support my sinking soul 
 As I approach thy throne; 
 
 O, Father! hold my hand. 
 
 I ask, O, Lord, for light. 
 
 To feel thy strength'ning power. 
 Let light illume my soul 
 
 To meet the Great Unknown. 
 
 O, Father! hold me firm 
 
 As I Thy face may view, 
 Lest poor unworthy me 
 
 Might faint in realms divine. 
 
— 24 — 
 
 VISION OF HOME. 
 
 [is midnight — weary and wakeful, 
 
 In vision I wander back home, 
 To the dear old home of my childhood. 
 And wonder how 1 could e'er roam 
 
 Away from a home that nestled 
 
 Adown in the valley so grand, 
 'Mid the balsams, and maples, a picture 
 
 The fairest in all of the land. 
 
 I pull the same bell ere I enter 
 The quaintest of hallways, at home; 
 
 And I stop for the greeting and welcome. 
 The welcome that never can come. 
 
 I enter, and 'round the broad hearth-stone, 
 The circle's complete as of yore; 
 
 My Mother just folding her knitting. 
 My Father with Bible before. 
 
 I see that 'tis nearing their bedtime; 
 
 I listen, and hear them all sing 
 "ITie Lord is my Shepherd,^^ so cheering. 
 
 That wildly my heart-beats do ring. 
 
 I see there my sisters, my brother. 
 They're tracing in coals, castles fine, 
 
 Tho' singing with zest the dear anthem; 
 The alto and base well define. 
 
 My Mother so clear sings the treble. 
 
 My Father's fine tenor above, 
 That the air seems filled with the fervor 
 
 Of worship and holiest love. 
 
— 25 — 
 
 So deeply enthralled was the vision 
 It seemed that no shadow could come; 
 
 That it ne'er could be but delusion 
 And only the breezes low hum. 
 
 And when they had ceased their singing 
 'Twas all overshadowed with gloom; 
 
 Then they faded away so quickly, 
 And there was the empty room. 
 
 The embers were dead on the hearth-stone, 
 The spider webs over them thrown; 
 
 So weird and so painful the silence 
 That from it I wandered alone. 
 
 I searched through the fields for the phantom, 
 Through granary, orchard, and barn; 
 
 But only the traces of strangers 
 Were scattered o'er field and o'er cairn. 
 
 Morn broke in the same old fashion, 
 
 The sun, rising over the hill. 
 Just gilding the tips of the treetops; 
 
 The robins there nesting at will. 
 
 The clover in the fields as ever 
 Grew on red and white as before; 
 
 There the same cool stream was running 
 As though it would run evermore. 
 
 I saw then a light through the vista, 
 
 Of beauty so gloriously bright. 
 It filled me to fullness with feelings 
 
 That dried up my tear dimmed sight. 
 
— 26 — 
 
 Afar in the church, the Triunqjliant^ 
 The guests were assembled once more; 
 
 I saw them through halo of glory, 
 All safe, through the wide open door. 
 
 But^ O, His the ioeakest of vessels, 
 The heart lohen bereft and alone, 
 
 When tossed by the rage of the tempest, 
 On shoals that to mountains have grown. 
 
 Now over the doorstep the grasses 
 Have fallen and there they decay, 
 
 As mingles the tangle-weed with them. 
 For gone are the charmers away. 
 
 I've listened for echoes of footsteps. 
 And dreamily heard the sweet song 
 
 Which soothed my sad soul in its seething. 
 Prepared me for bearing the thong. 
 
 JOY COMETH IN THE MORNING. 
 
 |;|. YE, in the morning cometh joy, 
 ^^The heart with love doth over flow; 
 ^i-gCFor Thou, my God, without alloy 
 Hast filled it with Thy heavenly glow. 
 
 My table's spread with dainty food 
 Thy love so great, no need of more; 
 Thy cheering words, each varying mood, 
 ISTo richer wino was drunk before. 
 
— 27 — 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 April 22, 1890. 
 
 J. Sterling Morton. 
 
 Stop, worthy sir, can'st pause a moment, list. 
 To read of laurel crown bestowed on thee 
 Ere thou may'st rest beneath the cypress tree? 
 Rare are such gifts in life, more often mist 
 Lain thick to sadden noble lives; but wist! 
 I therefore wreathe in rhyme — tho' poor it b3 — 
 Note thus the honor due most royally. 
 Gav'st thou the key-note — we the laurel twist; 
 
 Mak'st thou the waste place glad — the ioyous heart 
 On this thy "Arbor Day,"' while child and man 
 Remember thee; in praises voice their part 
 That e'er extol thy name for this thy plan. 
 One tree I'll plant, and none more fitting- be, 
 No emblem truer than the Hickory. 
 
— 28 — 
 
 MEN AND TREES, 
 
 VINES AND WOMEN. 
 
 Dedicated to S. B. A. 
 
 ssEMBLED OH a lawn of green 
 
 Four trees in consultation stood, 
 )Their merits to discuss, with keen 
 Foresight their charming points ' 'were good. " 
 
 Ignoring quite a clinging vine 
 Entwined about with graceful ease, 
 
 As weak and only fit to climb 
 
 On kitchen walls and old dead trees. 
 
 The Maple spoke in silv'ry tones, 
 
 "From well formed leaves quaint shadows fall; 
 My blood is rich, and sweetness loans 
 
 To lover's lips, and lassies small." 
 
 The Willow said, in pensive strain, 
 "/flourish 'midst the heaviest rain; 
 
 I sway and moan, on slightest breeze, 
 And droop my limbs with perfect ease.'' 
 
 The graceful Elm scarce spake one word 
 But there it stood so stately, grand. 
 
 They'd not agree (by envy stirred) 
 To crown it King o'er all the band. 
 
 The strong, staunch Oak, with coarse voice said: 
 "The fiercest storms may beat me long, 
 
 I stand up grandly — limbs and head — 
 
 Where birds find shade and sing their song." 
 
— 29 — 
 
 Then softly, the Yine said: "I'll cling and I'll twine 
 
 Fine tendrils on Willow, Oak, Maple and Elm; 
 I'll teach them a lesson to justice incline. 
 
 By showing my power o'er the trees of the realm. 
 "I'm thought frail and weak, so amount to mere 
 naught. 
 
 By stronger and larger of IS'ature's own mold; 
 I note I can press my small tendrils so taut 
 
 That I can he felt, if no voice in the fold. " 
 Just clinging tight, and creeping still 
 
 It covered o'er their lofty heights; 
 And silently did twine at will 
 
 Till silenced were those Chiefs of might. 
 
 To 
 
 |!ou ask me to send you some verses 
 Eich in their beauty of thought, 
 
 •Ah! would I could furnish the treasure, 
 Poems all daintily wrought. 
 Just ask for the gold from a mountain. 
 
 Treasure from depths of the sea; 
 But poesy perfect in structure, 
 
 Comes not from mortal like me. 
 As dew-drops do sparkle in sunlight, 
 
 So does the beauty of verse; 
 Then how can a mind that is weary 
 
 Teem e'er with lines that are terse? 
 Oh! how can the fig leaves be gathered. 
 
 Gathered from thistles and tares; 
 Or grapes from the thorny old tree-tops, 
 
 Mind ever laden with cares? 
 
30 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 Written for the 100th anniversary of the inauguration of 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. April 30, 1889. 
 
 Go RING the chimes, beat loud the drum, 
 E'en tho' the din may reacli the skies; 
 O; shout! hurrah! let echoes come! 
 Raise high our flag, as forth it flies 
 Glorious and grand, shorn not of one 
 Emblazoned star, exultant rise! 
 
 Was e'er a man so noble, true, 
 As he who fought thro' battles rife 
 Shielding his country's honor, drew 
 His sword for freedom, pledged his life 
 In humble, thoughtful, hopeful view? 
 No, noble Chief! no trophy won 
 Gives half the honor justly due 
 To thee. Let Fame enroll her son 
 On History's page with praises new, 
 Note thou thy laurels, bravely won. 
 
— 31 — 
 
 To G. W. CURTIS. 
 
 Written after reading "PRUE AND I." 
 
 f'VE been reading of fancies of others 
 Who've travel'd the wonderful sea, 
 §Just to visit their fairy old castles, 
 The castles, belonging to me. 
 
 Never dreaming that one could have holdings 
 
 In mythical castles of Spain, 
 Who e'er lives in a realm not delusive, 
 
 Who owns a Chief editor's brain. 
 
 It is "Prue," oh I that dear little mender 
 Of pants that are torn and so old, 
 
 Who might visit full oft the fair city 
 Where emeralds gleam with the gold. 
 
 But alone she Is sitting demurely 
 While caring for pearls now in store 
 
 And just living on love of the sailor, 
 The sailor who sails on the shore. 
 
 Yes, she lives on a loving remembrance 
 
 Of visions (lie's gifted in lore) 
 He has led her the routes he has traveled, 
 
 Without any baggage or store. 
 
 It is pleasant to listen and travel, 
 
 No matter if sunshine or cloud. 
 With the one who oft visits his castles 
 
 So happily — richly endowed. 
 
— 32 — 
 
 TO MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 ARBOR DAY. 
 
 'll plant a tree, dear child, for thee, 
 
 And o'er it charms will throw, 
 jlnvite the rain my prize to see 
 And water so 'twill grow. 
 
 Which shall it be of all we see 
 
 I'll plant for thee this day, 
 As lasting loving legacy 
 
 To shade life's rugged way? 
 
 The Willow? no! too sad its wail! 
 
 As whisp'ring winds its requiem sing 
 Thro' drooping branches — mourning veil 
 
 Where solemn mem'ries closely cling. 
 
 The Elm so tall and graceful, too. 
 
 Hath many charms for me; 
 The Maple hath its sweets for you. 
 
 Its shade with beauty blending, free. 
 
 Cedar of Lebanon it should be 
 With fragrant, hardy spines; 
 
 The index of my love for thee. 
 Unfailing in all climes. 
 
 But no, the rugged, hardiest tree 
 
 I'll plant to shelter, shade; 
 Lasting as time, the Oak will be, 
 
 So hand to me my spade. 
 
— 33 — 
 
 TO MY SON. 
 
 Dec. U 1S93. 
 
 *^WAS sixty years ago to-day, 
 And add four more you may, 
 Unto my soul light ope'd the door, • 
 Life's drama here to play. 
 
 When played my part yon will assent 
 
 My earnest zeal well meant; 
 If wisdom failed you can but see 
 
 'Twas not with wrong intent. 
 
 The varied scenes of joy and grief 
 
 Well pictured in relief. 
 When curtain's up and gaslight on 
 
 Let critic gaze be brief. 
 
 For soon old Time will surely frown 
 
 And ring the curtain down; 
 The last act o'er, my spirit soar 
 
 To seek the humblest crown. 
 
 SHADOW. 
 
 ;h! why doth my heart e'er repine and bewail, 
 When waves of deep sorrow come merciless o'er 
 Engulfing my soul, so rebellious and frail. 
 In darkness profound while I grope for the door? 
 
GEN. WM. T. SHERMAN. 
 
 In camp on the "BIG BLACKS Miss. 1863. 
 
 s THE Autumn leaves were falling, 
 *' Breezes calling 
 .§1 Perfume thro' the humid air; 
 Tenting lone a soldier sitting, 
 
 Thoughts e'er knitting, 
 Dreaming not of shadows there. 
 
 Thinking of his home bestowing 
 
 Heart o'erflowing, 
 Ever restless to be there; 
 Longing for the children's chatter, 
 
 Footsteps patter. 
 For his wife and easy chair. 
 
 Greetings tender, O, the greeting! 
 
 Lips then meeting, 
 Tiny fingers thro' his hair. 
 Writes the brave old soldier father: 
 
 "Come, let's gather 
 Roses wild in balmy air." 
 
 Writes he thus a letter, asking, 
 
 Lightly tasking 
 Zephyrs floating thro' the air; 
 When the south-wind gently blowing 
 
 Message going 
 Till it reaches hearth-stone there. 
 
 Ah! the light of morn is breaking, 
 
 Hope is taking 
 Buds of fruitful promise, rare; 
 
Came the wife and loving- cliildren, 
 
 Happy cliildren, 
 Naught could with this joy compare. 
 
 Manhood's noble love for Union, 
 
 Full communion, 
 Breathing ever incense there. 
 Willie, now, so manly growing, 
 
 And so knowing, 
 He must be his father's heir. 
 
 Heir to honor, manhood's treasure. 
 
 Gen'rous measure 
 From a father's garnered share; 
 Lightly lifting forged shackles 
 
 Manhood tackles. 
 With his firm invidious care. 
 
 Then the soldiers honored Willie, 
 
 Tender lily, 
 Sergeant of the "Thirteenth's" care; 
 Fondly noting thus the father 
 
 Thought to gather 
 Laurels for his soldier there. 
 
 On this southern Autumn landscape, 
 
 After hand shake. 
 Came a shadow o'er the gloam; 
 O'er the meadows flit the swallows, 
 
 O'er the fateful loam. 
 
— 36 — 
 
 'Mid the lulling zephyrs softly, 
 
 O, so softly! 
 Came the pestilential air; 
 Stealing through the cherished casement, 
 
 Without abasement 
 Stealing one so hard to spare. 
 
 Tenting lone the father's weeping, 
 
 Ever keeping 
 Message from his dying boy. 
 Eing you on, oh! bells of vesper, 
 
 Ev'ning quester. 
 Doleful dirges, reft of joy. 
 
 Realms of heaven in thee are basking 
 
 Without asking, 
 In the glory of the Son; 
 Gather'd there the loved and loving, 
 
 Ever loving, 
 Endless as the Holy One. 
 
 TO . 
 
 RUE Friendship wove a garland fair 
 
 Of woodland's choicest flow'rs one day, 
 )rorget-me-nots wild, rosebuds rare. 
 Sweet violets, cedar-buds and bay. 
 
 The zephyr passing caught it up 
 
 And, fairy like, it wafted on 
 To thee, — to deck thy brow, thy cup 
 
 Of joy to fill, and then sped on. 
 
— 37 — 
 To DR OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 
 
 Written after reading his book, "Over the Teacups." Sept. 1S91. 
 
 gl^WAY near the village of Berkley 
 
 \^Dwells the merriest sage of the day, 
 e'lp) While musing there over his teacups 
 He weaves us the cheeriest lay. 
 
 It's filled with the antics of witches, 
 As glide they the "small windows" through, 
 Astride of their tandem old broom sticks 
 With the same pointed hat and old shoe. 
 
 There is many a bright interloc'tor 
 And many a hint we should prize; 
 O, give us the dear old doctor, 
 And spare us from specialist wise. 
 
 This man who has filled full of gladness 
 The hearts of the halt and the blind; 
 Who's fill'd us with music and laughter, 
 With rations of thought e'er refined, 
 
 There sits, with his arms both akimbo, 
 And asks, "what old writers shall do" 
 When they have no fancy for knitting 
 I^or any the fads that are new? 
 
 Wise Sir: — For a moment please listen 
 
 To song of the carrier-bird 
 
 Which brings you the thought e'er so cheering, 
 
 Thy record — thy life — in a word. 
 
— 38 — 
 
 To science tliou'st given a treasure 
 
 Of value to incoming years, 
 
 Wliile mingling much laughter with physic 
 
 Thou'st swept away oceans of tears. 
 
 To feel thou hast helped one 'twas needy 
 With frankness and kindliest word, [way, 
 
 That trhou'st blessed and brightened their path 
 Thou truly thereof must have heard. 
 
 The laurel we strew with our blessing 
 While yet thy soul's lamp is full trimmed; 
 'Twill fill all thy time to contemplate 
 Tky record that's never been dimmed. 
 
 Written after a visil (o the f/rave of HELEN HUNT JACKSON. 
 On Cheyenne nwantam, Col. August 1S39. 
 
 1? 
 
 jrjEEP nested 'mong pines on the mountain's bleak 
 
 'm side, 
 
 ^Lies one who in mem'ry e'er will abide; 
 
 While pilgrims pay homage, and thoughtfully sigh 
 
 Why one who was gifted so early must die. 
 
 In sight of her home was this chosen retreat, 
 Where oft she had lingered, the muses to meet, 
 And penned her pure tlioughts, full of justice alway. 
 Which live on forever and lighten our way. 
 
 Lone dweller, on mountain of rugged Cheyenne, 
 Why chose thee thy grave so far from our ken? 
 We honored thy wish and brought stones that were 
 
 white 
 As the soul of the sleeper, then bade tliee good-night. 
 
39 
 
 To MY SISTER. 
 
 Mrs. JEANETTE S. PRICE. 
 Read at the last reunion of her family. Dec. 31, ISSS. 
 
 SISTER, Mother, Grandma, dear. 
 With joy we greet you here to-day, 
 S Your Kinsmen, from afar and near 
 To celebrate — the good old way. 
 
 Your silvered hairs and noble heart 
 We honor, love, and cherish true; 
 
 With gratitude we thus impart 
 The warm affection justly due. 
 
 Your life replete, like golden grain, 
 Each page so full of gen'rousdeed. 
 
 We stop and ask what more to gain 
 Than laurel crown from friends indeed. 
 
 The cloudless sky — the sun and rain — 
 Ah! who can tell who first may die. 
 
 And once again a link be ta'en 
 
 From out the chain that forms the tie? 
 
 Or, who shall wait on Jordan's strands. 
 When we on earth may meet no more, 
 
 To close the eyes and fold the hands 
 Of one so good whom we adore? 
 
 With brimming eyes, yet joyous hearts. 
 We ask that you may long be spared, 
 
 To cheer us on, though treach'rous darts 
 In Time's rough quiver oft be bared. 
 
— 40 — 
 
 Then let us hope to meet again, 
 
 Ere you may go to spirit land, 
 While naught of grief, but joy, remain 
 
 To reunite this fam'ly band 
 Only the riper. Sheaves to bind 
 
 With union's hallowed bands of love. 
 With joyous hearts and songs divined. 
 
 Prepared for richer worlds above. 
 Then take this nosegay. Sister, dear. 
 
 Of pansies, lilies, primrose sweet; 
 With blessings for the glad ]S'ew Year, 
 
 To make this meeting's joy complete. 
 
 To MY YOUNG FRIEND. 
 
 Dec. 25, 1S91. 
 
 ^ MESSENGER came in the twilight, 
 ^ The eve of our Christ's birth-day, 
 0§s With a gift of delicate blossoms; 
 A wish that will linger for aye! 
 An off'ring of tender affection, 
 
 Carnations of palest pink hue; 
 As sweet as tho' plucked in the summer 
 
 When wet were the petals with dew. 
 So fragrant, artistic, the nosegay, 
 
 I drew it still closer to me; 
 Found quaintly all tied in the ribbon. 
 
 The love of my friend, young Marie. 
 The beautiful thought, to thus brighten 
 
 A heart growing sere and so old, 
 Of a peerless and fair young maiden, 
 
 Shows friendship more valued than gold. 
 
— 41 — 
 
 FLORA'S COLLOQUY. 
 
 TRAILING ARBUTUS. 
 
 *mis thy mete to bid me welcome, 
 J; Trailing vine and starry flow'r, 
 I^By thy winning, twining tendrils 
 To thy pathway ever more. 
 Stars of pink in language tell me 
 
 I am welcome to thy charms, 
 O, how sweet such tender greeting — 
 Let me clasp thee in my arms. 
 
 DAHLIA. 
 
 Ah! thou say est thine forever, 
 
 Thine to love thee, be it so; 
 Friend or foe shall never sever 
 
 Heart of mine thro' weal or woe. 
 See my face so full of curving 
 
 Bounded folds, so even — see! 
 Could 'st thou read my heart not doubting 
 
 There would be a place for thee. 
 
 ALMOND. 
 
 Hope thou giv'st me in these blossoms, 
 
 I will heed it and live on, 
 Nourished by the incense laden, 
 
 And their beauty gaze upon. 
 Oh, to think I still am hoping 
 
 Thou wilt crown me with thy love; 
 Thou wilt keep me more from groping 
 
 For my cherished, truest dove. 
 
— 42 — 
 
 ACACIA. 
 
 Yes, beneath thy thorny branches 
 Spied I there thy love concealed, 
 
 Smiling, smirking, at my chances, 
 Outward showing love congealed. 
 
 Ah ! I'll open up the chalice 
 Holding wine so rich and rare; 
 
 I will dally without malice 
 'Mid the flowers not so fair. 
 
 HYACINTH. 
 
 Jealous? yes, I thought I'd rouse thee, 
 Teach thy heart to feel a pang. 
 
 By my language in thy hearing 
 I would cause thy head to hang 
 
 See if from thy chilling surface 
 
 I could not evoke a smile 
 As an index or a preface. 
 
 Brighter hours to thus beguile. 
 
 DAISY WILD. 
 
 Iioill think of it, I'm saying; 
 
 I will dream in pastures green, 
 I will tell thee when the haying 
 
 And the reaping mars the scene. 
 
 In the meadows while I'm sleeping 
 Dew-drops fall with cooling breeze, 
 
 And I see no cause for weeping 
 
 'Till I'm bound among the sheaves. 
 
43 
 
 DAFFODIL. 
 
 Chivalry I'll teach thee, suitor, 
 From my heart that is tliy due; 
 
 For thy arrogance and hauteur 
 I will challenge hearts more true. 
 
 They would think me not so faulty, 
 See the gem tho' meanly set; 
 
 Cherish words as yet unspoken 
 Without murmur or regret. 
 
 MORNING GLORY. 
 
 Yet thou thinkest of my blindness 
 
 To thy farce of coquetry, 
 Ah! my heart is filled with kindness 
 
 At thy furtive sophistry. 
 
 In the morning I will glory 
 At thy faint disguise o'er love; 
 
 I will then tell thee the story 
 How to play the part thou strove. 
 
 PANSY. 
 
 Teach me, do, oh, draw me near thee! 
 
 Think of me, my charmer dove! 
 I will kneel if thou wilt cheer me 
 
 By thy presence and thy love. 
 
 In thy breath the fragrance stealing 
 Sweeter than the op'ning rose; 
 
 It is life, 'tis love revealing 
 Balm that healeth all my woes. 
 
— 44 — 
 
 FED PINK. 
 
 All! I've truly found thy secret, 
 Found that thou dost care for me; 
 
 Felt the tremor of thy heart-beat 
 Tho' disguised so carefully. 
 
 Bliss is mine beyond defining, 
 
 Pure and ardent love is thine; 
 Thou art mine no more repining, 
 
 Brightness gleameth — joy divine. 
 
 HONEYSUCKLE. 
 
 Thus the matin song I'm singing, 
 
 Bond of love, so strong and true 
 That my heart in rapture's beating, 
 
 Beating for my treasure new. 
 
 Let us sing the anthem chorus, 
 
 Join our voice in wild refrain, 
 That the life that's now before us 
 
 Naught will ever mar again. 
 
 PETITION. 
 
 REAT God! Wilt Thou bend low thine ear 
 'And listen as we breathe Thy name 
 [And ask of Thee to draw Thee near 
 And quicken with thy heavenly flame? 
 
 Humbly we come on bended knee 
 To ask thy aid, to learn Thy will; 
 Purge not with hyssop — bitter tree- 
 But "-Balm of Gilead" instill. 
 
— 45 — 
 
 LUELLE. 
 
 A Tragedy. 
 
 Canto I. 
 
 qpHE time was eve. The place a vine clad bower 
 
 M Of jasmine sweet, the gentle soughing breeze 
 
 ■^In minor cadence sang a symphony 
 
 So low, it left its soothing solace 
 
 O'er the soul, as oil o'er troubled waves that roll. 
 
 While o'er the stones, in laughing ripples, ran 
 
 The gurgling waters of a brook beneath 
 
 In rythmic melody. All nature still 
 
 As drops of dew on flow'r cups gathered, thick 
 
 With perfume laden — incense of their lives — 
 
 Lay dormant, resting till the rays of sun 
 
 Shall burst the blossoms; bees will sip 
 
 The nectar, store in cells the sweet; we breathe 
 
 The perfumed air. And, as the maiden's mind 
 
 Mingled the music with her thoughts of love, 
 
 It lulled to luring dreams of lover true. 
 
 'Mid golden curls the zephyrs coyly played, 
 
 Leaving no impress on the upturned face, 
 
 As silver rays shot o'er the silent form 
 
 From moon resplendent, matchless Queen of Night. 
 
 Canto II. 
 O'er bog and cliff a horseman sped like one 
 Bereft of reason. Bending o'er he pressed 
 His spurs into his foaming charger's side; 
 Of pitfall fearless, as, o'er craggy height, 
 Thus sped lie on. But why so eager, rash, 
 
— 46 — 
 
 This gallant Knight? Ah, sad the tale! 'Twas love 
 
 For maiden fair whom rival lover sought 
 
 To claim; whose jewel gleamed on the hand 
 
 Of snowy whiteness, hers he loved so well. 
 
 And that, he reckless thought, foretold his fate. 
 
 Canto III. 
 The dews were falling fast as from his steed 
 Dismounted he wliere winding paths met on 
 The fresh mown lawn, beside a group of pines 
 E'er mingling fragrance with the hawthorn's breath. 
 One moment standing silent, still, gazed he 
 Upon this scene so tranquil, calm, and then, 
 As if impelled by unseen power, he walked 
 With light and quickened step, with throbbing brain 
 The well known path all thick with trailing vines, 
 With roses rare, till reached the trysting place 
 Where oft they'd met and pledged e'er to be true. 
 
 Canto IV. 
 As stood he gazing down on beauty rare, 
 His heart so full of mingled love and hate, 
 He longed to clasp the sleeping form and fly 
 To cave or mount, and hide his dear one there. 
 With deep and breathless pain thus bent he o'er, 
 And seemed to live for her alone, his all. 
 Her beauty drinking in, as thirsty ox 
 Doth quaff the cooling stream, which stilled his heart, 
 So troubled, with its magic pow'r, then grasped 
 He quickly his long cherished prize and 'round 
 Tlie resting form he threw his silken scarf 
 And bore her far away from home and friends. 
 
— 47 — 
 
 Canto V. 
 
 The silver rays of morning liglit o'erspread 
 
 Tlie sky, and dew-drops glisten'd bright on tree 
 
 And shrub, like diamonds of rare purity 
 
 Just waiting fairy hands to cull, yet all 
 
 Were silent — save the bark of dog or voice 
 
 Of searcher echoing back — "no trace" — "no track" 
 
 To mark the flight or fate of fair Luelle. 
 
 Canto VI. 
 
 The robins redbreast sang their songs of love, 
 
 And piping linnets heeded not the cry 
 
 Of hawk or buzzard as they trooped from tree 
 
 To tree filling the air with sweetest notes. 
 
 Till all the world seemed charged with hope a::d joy. 
 
 Night came and went, but still no tidings came; 
 
 All nature seemed dumb to woe, save but 
 
 The birds who gave their sweetest notes of song 
 
 To cheer the hearts of those bereft and lone. 
 
 Canto YIL 
 
 As darkness gathered, clouds in blacken'd folds 
 O'erspread the sky, as fitful drap'ries hung 
 O'er crime most foul. High on the twisted crags 
 A dove of spotless white, a requiem moaned. 
 The wierd winds blew and wailed in direful tones, 
 And bending boughs did grate each other's sides 
 As if in anguish. Thunders rolled while flash 
 Of lightning pierced the gloomy gorge below. 
 
48 
 
 Far down the steep a steed lay dead, and by 
 Him rider bold, whose side yet held the steel 
 Of rival dread; but, ah! his arms entwined 
 His jewel, fair Luelle — now all his own. 
 
 SUPPLICATION. 
 
 |0 Thee, my Father, I will bring 
 
 An humble, contrite heart; 
 O, keep me 'neath Thy shelt'ring wing, 
 
 Thy grace and strength impart. 
 
 Draw near me, Father, leave me not 
 
 To battle life's drear ills; 
 But keep me ever, that my lot 
 
 Be pastures green, — ne'er failing rills. 
 
 Dear Father! keep me lest I stray, 
 
 O, guide my thoughts aright; 
 Lead me from darkness unto day, 
 
 Make light the shade of night. 
 
 CUBA. 
 
 [HRiCE hail, fair Isle! the dawn is breaking 
 Behold! the brightness of the morn's at hand, 
 S'^Thy pleading cry, no longer we'll withstand. 
 Tho' dimmed, oppressed, thy star shall rise and glow 
 And o'er the graves of loved ones roses blow 
 When thy fair land greets Freedom's waking. 
 
— 49 — 
 
 THE SCOT'S REFRAIN. 
 
 Set to Music. Auntie Em's Songs for Children. Vol. III. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1895. 
 
 S\F Scotland's sturdy sons I sing, 
 TO' And heather blossoms gladly bring; 
 !>^ As ance were gVen the sang of a' 
 By lad and lassie o'er the brae; 
 
 As piping herald o'er the pass 
 Came gaily down to greet his lass, 
 
 And sing with her the ^^ Bonnie Boon'^ 
 Till glimmers faint the silv'ry moon. 
 
 O, Scottish sire and Scottish dame! 
 
 How sweet the echoes of that name 
 Where ance the plaid of old we wore 
 
 As aft we sat by cottage door 
 
 And caught the music as it fell 
 
 From mountain high or covert dell, 
 
 From roving hunter's alpine horn, 
 Or bagpipe in the breaking morn. 
 
 Dear as thou art. old Scottish home, 
 Tho' far from thee we e'er may roam, 
 
 We'll not forget thee if anew 
 
 We plight our troth to broth and brew 
 
 Of other lands, where Freedom's smile 
 And land and wealth, our steps beguile; 
 
 We'll bind the thistle and enchain 
 This dear free land with thy domain. 
 
— 50 — 
 
 1492 1892. 
 
 OVER THE SEA CAME THE VESSELS. 
 
 Written for the " World s Columbian Exposition," 
 
 SETTi MUSIC AND COPYRIGHTED 1S91." AUNTIE EMS SONG LEAVES" FOR CHILDREN, VOL II. 
 
 Ses, over the sea came the vessels, 
 
 ^ Each manned by a sturdy brave crew; 
 
 §Till hope seem'd to die on the billow, 
 
 While far from the land they would view. 
 
 Yile mutiny whispered in anger, 
 When storms beat in fury the waves, 
 
 Till light of the dawn reft the darkness 
 Then hope buoyed the hearts of the brave. 
 
 And sighting the land in the distance, 
 
 Tho' only as large as a span. 
 Gave hope to the heart of the leader. 
 
 Restored to his honor each man. 
 
 Our hero, the honored Columbus, 
 Forgot not the One at the helm; 
 
 But humbly did thank the good Master 
 Who'd given this view of the realm. 
 
 Who'd succored from shipwreck and danger, 
 Who'd saved him from anger and strife. 
 
 And led him to lands so Elysian, 
 Thus crowning the thought of his life. 
 
 The hearts of the people are beating. 
 
 Are beating for him on this day; 
 Tho' honors of life are but fleeting 
 
 All his are as gold to the clay. 
 
51 
 
 The flag of our freedom is flying 
 O'er land flowing honey and wine; 
 
 He planted its sturdy, strong standard 
 As firmly as faith that's divine. 
 
 Then here's to the name of the hero, 
 Columbus, the brave and the true — 
 
 Three cheers for the noblest of manhood. 
 For honors so justly his due. 
 
 1492 1892. 
 
 Wo7-krs Columbidn Exposition. 
 
 SET TO MUSIC AND COPYRIGHTED 1891. "aUNTIE EM'S SONa LEAVES FOR CHI.DREN." 
 
 tLL hail! yes, all hail to thee! echoes to-day. 
 As march we forth singing thy praises for aye! 
 e'§CThou livest in mem'ry who landed on shore, 
 Who opened the way for our freedom e'ermore. 
 
 All hail! yes, all hail! we will honor the brave, 
 The hero who searched for land o'er the wave; 
 
 While fiercely the storm-king did beat on thy baric, 
 Still trusting thou waited for light thro' the dark. 
 
 All hail to thee! view thou this wonderous land, 
 Its richness of harvests, its wealth at command; 
 
 Its freedom, its flag that still floats o'er the main; 
 'Twill thrill thee with rapture as sweetest refrain. 
 
 We'll cheer for thee, cheer in remembrance to-day, 
 As well for the Queen as her brave iirotege, 
 
 We'll rouse one and all with our music and son^. 
 Till echoes will roll all the heavens along. 
 
— 52 — 
 
 1492. CHRISTO COLOMBO 
 
 IN PERSPECTIVE. 1892. 
 
 Written avd yd (o 7vt!ficfoi tlie 
 "WORLDS COLUMBIAN EXPOSITIOX:' 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1E91 . 
 
 y^N wings of Time, 
 
 ^I weeii, was borne the talisman of years: 
 MThe mesm'ric charm tho' wet with tears 
 Helped Hope to haven safely Freedom's shrine, 
 Drink deep — her fill — from fount of living wins 
 Where Bacchus found his peers. 
 
 In wondrous dreams 
 
 I see a man whose soul is full of zeal 
 
 While kneeling low, o'erwhelmed with fears. 
 
 His pleading voice is borne to me, I feel 
 
 His throbbing heart, his beating pulse, his tcar.i, 
 
 V/hile ling'ring long for woe or weal. 
 
 Xo courtier's sneers, 
 
 No frown of sage, can daunt or thwart his dream; 
 
 He bravely bears and hopes the while 
 
 A heart to reach, with winning words beguile 
 
 His views to scan, to aid, to trust his schemCo 
 
 The moments seem like years. 
 
 Methinks I hear 
 
 A melody of words, not voice of page, 
 
 Rut liquid, fervent notes engage 
 
 Mine listening ear and light his face aglow. 
 
 1 hear the words t'ncourage flow from lips 
 
 Of woman, soft and low. 
 
-- 53 — 
 
 Tenderly fall. 
 
 They fall as rippling- waves whose silv'ry sheen 
 
 Lights up the vale, on heart serene. 
 
 I see the jewels sparkle, gems untold 
 
 There dangling down from dainty finger tips 
 
 To cheer the hero bold. 
 
 O'er boundless waves 
 
 I see the vessels, flick'ring flecks on sea. 
 
 The salty sea — despairing braves; 
 
 I hear the soaring sea-gull's moan so drear, 
 
 The hero call: "Hear Thou, O, God, my plea! 
 
 I wait, I wait Thee here!" 
 
 Gray morning dawns. 
 
 The leaping waters lave the ships bleached sides. 
 
 Far in the misty light there seems 
 
 A speck, a span; 'tis land! the land of dreams! 
 
 The hero tarries not; and once again 
 
 He kneels on Nature's lawn. 
 
 I see his form 
 
 With arm uplifted, folded flag unfurled, 
 
 Fair emblem of a new-born world 
 
 As't waves its greeting o'er the yet untried 
 
 And silent scene where it will e'er abide 
 
 And brave, yes, brave each storm. 
 
 He plants a pean rare 
 
 For Home, for Freedom, granting joy supreme; 
 
 I see it there, 'tis not a dream! 
 
 I sing his piaise,this theme, tho' years have flown, 
 
 Four hundred years Time's dial point hath shown 
 
 As suns on suns declare. 
 
He ventured, won. 
 
 And children's children e'er the riches reap. 
 
 Vast is the Nation's resource now — 
 
 From seedling, sapling, to the oaken bough. 
 
 Grim sages of the old world, wake from sleep I 
 
 And note our ]S"ation*s growth, close vigil keep. 
 
 THE MESSAGE. 
 
 ^§, w^RiTE me a song — the old story repeat, 
 IpSo charming, so flowing, with love so replete 
 §' 'Twill tell me in words what tongue never told • 
 Filled full of the flame that never grows cold. 
 
 That I e'er may sing and may croon when alone, 
 Thy beautiful thoughts, while the breezes will moan 
 Through willows weird wailings of wearisome woe, 
 A dirge o'er our love of the long, long ago. 
 
 She wrote me:— "My Muse I will send unto thee 
 And she'll tell the tale that thou asketh of me, 
 In musical tones she will charm e'en the dove 
 And bring from tlio depths all your long buried lovo. " 
 
 1 looked for the charmer where roses e'er bloom., 
 Where lilies in purity, peer thro' tlie gloom. 
 Till weary of waiting I searched 'mid the trees 
 While music entrancing was born on the breeze. 
 
 So plaintive the muse, so inspiring the song, 
 
 It filled me with rapture all the day long; 
 
 It wakened the love so long covered with mold 
 
 And fell on my heart strings like "Apples of gold." 
 
— 55 — 
 
 THE WHITE CITY. 
 
 World's Columbian Exposition. Aujus*, 2!t, 1S93. 
 
 flj^is out in this city so white, we behold 
 
 The hand'wprk of On-i that's perfect in mold. 
 ; The impress of genius, tho' rough be the face, 
 Tho' varied the color, how wondrous each race. 
 
 In this shimmer of light with marvels untold, 
 There's a lesson to learn, a page to unfold; 
 There's more than the outcoms of money or gain. 
 The work of the Master^ a story of fame. 
 
 Called forth from the isles, strange humanity comes 
 In all its regalia, its clanging of drums; 
 No idols are broken from over the sea, 
 But brazenly stand as false symbols of Thee. 
 
 From out of earth's treasures, from near and from far, 
 
 Are gathered rich jewels, silver and spar 
 
 And ingots of gold and diamonds as rare 
 
 As thought of the Grower — so heedless we are. 
 
 Lol Yanity, Folly, bow down to a King, 
 Yet, deep in tlieir hearts, they hear Liberty's ring; 
 While echoing tones throw a blush on the face 
 And Liberty weepeth at this deep disgrace. 
 
 Americans, rise! rise as patriots — sons! 
 While Liberty grieves o'er our stumbling, weak ones; 
 O, show to the wild man, the Tartar, the Turk, 
 In the King whom we trust no evil doth lurk. 
 
^: 
 
 — .56 — 
 
 The Mogul who worships his god-head o f stone 
 May be led by your light, our Savior to own; 
 May be taught by your deeds(for deeds do not die) 
 Tliat this is a Nation whose God standeth nigh. 
 
 That, out of His fullness of mercy and love 
 There are tidings untold, richest jewels above; 
 The earth and its treasure are works of His hands 
 And all are His people of every land. 
 
 Let seed you are sowing, like nuggets of gold, 
 Be perfect in texture, untarnish'd by mold, 
 As it falls by the wayside, take root, there abide 
 Till gathered the harvest on Canaan's side. 
 
 O, teach them His love and His wisdom. His truth. 
 While here they are with you leave not to the 
 
 sleuth, 
 But teach them to pray and to sing to our God 
 The Author and Keeper of each earthly clod. 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 TO THE ''WHITE CITY." 
 
 WorkVs Columbian Exposition, August 2h., 189S. 
 
 HOT! art grand in thy beauty, O, city so white! 
 M And yet, like the mushroom, thou grew in a night; 
 |§ As in Venice of old one can sail by the sea 
 And dream of thy wonders, so happy and free. 
 
 O, thou beautiful city! tho' short be thy stay. 
 We'll tread in thy palace-like temples to-day, 
 And we'll think of them now as our "castles from 
 
 Spain," 
 Which ne'er but in fancy we'll visit again. 
 
57 
 
 But, forsooth, thy designer the Boot of the scheme, 
 Lieth low in Death's chamber— eternal his dream, 
 He dwells in a city, more wonderful — - bright, 
 Illuihed by a Presence of marvelous light. 
 
 We will weave thee a garland of laurel entwined 
 With the cypress, the harebell, with dead leaves 
 
 combined; 
 We will sing of thy grandeur, o'er land and o'er sea, 
 And crown thus the Artist, whose genius formed thee. 
 
 ALONE IN THE SILENT CITY. 
 
 After the close 0/ the Columbian Exposition. 
 
 Write the things Avhich thou hast seen, and the things which 
 
 are, and the things which shaU be hereafter. Rev. I. 19. 
 
 tLONE in the silent ''White City," 
 Alone, save the wind's chilling breath 
 As it whines thro' the cornice in pity 
 And whi.stles the song of its death I 
 
 How shallow, how fleeting its grandeur, 
 
 Like sepulchres "whited"' of old: 
 
 Alas and alas, for its tenure, 
 
 Its life's like a story that's told! . 
 
 Alone in the silence — the city 
 
 Where the wierd winds whistle and croon; , 
 
 Will e'er be forgotten the ditty 
 
 Once wafted across the lagoon 
 
 Like the tones of the brooklet's murmur. 
 
 From voices that rippled and flowed 
 
 As soft as the breeze of the summer 
 
 While light on the zephyrs it rode? 
 
~ 5S - 
 
 I wander alone on the Plaza 
 And look there, in vain for the lights 
 To peep out like stars in the azure, 
 The search-lif^ht that wandered o'nights. 
 
 The fog and tho mist of the meadow, 
 Like incense will cover the place 
 When gone are the temples and light glow 
 And dreariness cometli apace. 
 
 Qh: bar up the entrance forever, 
 I care not to vi.^it its gloom; 
 Again let the tempest as ever 
 Hold carnival over its doom. 
 
 1893. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 OOD-BY — old Year, 
 (X Some traits were dear, 
 v|^And some were trite and callow; 
 Thou'st held full sway 
 And liad thy say, 
 Tho' often thou wert shallow. 
 
 Good-by, good-by, 
 
 With ne'er a sigh, 
 We'll raise our standard higher, 
 
 Ani laugh to scorn 
 
 Thy grief forlorn. 
 As New- Year comes the nigher. 
 
J 
 
 — 59 — 
 
 Thou'st brought us siglis, 
 
 Deep grief that tries 
 One's heart with tensest pressure, 
 
 But also joy 
 
 Without alloy, 
 That made us Hope's possessor. 
 
 Then fare-thee-wcll, 
 
 Thy day doth tell 
 Of wondrous feats of glory; 
 
 Of reckless greed, 
 
 Of those in need. 
 Full and complete thy story. 
 
 Pass on, pass on, 
 
 Thy will is done, 
 Thou'st reached the climax truly; 
 
 So then we'll bow 
 
 Supinely now 
 As yield'st thy scepter duly. 
 
 Our lover new 
 
 Hath come in view, 
 Bright as the sun of morning; 
 
 With promise fair 
 
 To not ensnare 
 By outwardly adorning. 
 
 ow many times it has been said 
 That "he who steals my purse, steals trash; 
 Yet how much more the thieves I dread 
 Who cull my thoughts to spice their hash. 
 
— GO — 
 
 TO KINZA RINGE HIRAI. 
 
 {A karnecljapanese orator.) 
 
 After listening to his essay at the WORLD'S PARLIAMENT OF 
 
 RELIGION. August, 1S9S, reciting the 'wrongs said to have 
 
 been done to his countrymen bi/ the missionaries. 
 
 JREETING: — 
 
 How comes it thus the thraldom chains that 
 charmed 
 
 The christian world are snapped asunder — torn 
 From out the socket patient faith, had wrought 
 Who'd poured the coffers out unstinted, free? 
 '•Redeem a heathen world," "where God had been 
 Before". Equipped were men {they thought were wise,) 
 Well clothed in garments that true christians wore, 
 To carry forth God's word, the erring guide; 
 Not those who knew our Lord, the King of Kings, 
 Who'd quaffed the living wine, the love divine. 
 But those who found in stone or brass a God. 
 But, lo! the message comes of broken vows. 
 Frail, broken vessels, out from which hath poured 
 The rankest wine, "which smells to heaven" high, 
 And brings on every christian cheek a blush. 
 Brave man, thou Plato of the Japs, bring forth 
 Those men and name their crime, the wrong they've 
 
 done! 
 Those wolves men sent as messengers of peace, 
 Of hope and love. Ay! write and speak their names 
 And we will brand them e'en as Cain and thus 
 Avenge the wrong, the shame we wot not of. 
 Thou pleadest well thy cause, most noble sir! 
 Before thy caustic, stinging charge were done 
 
61 
 
 Out from the depths of heart and soul there 'rose 
 
 The voice of protest, and its echo'll reach. 
 
 From shore to shore. My brother, brave tliou art 
 
 To travel o'er the sea and land to be 
 
 The bearer and proclaim thy IS'ation wronged, [throes 
 
 Thou stoodst as one whose heart was wrung with 
 
 Of anguish, so intense the picture drawn 
 
 In thy appeal to reason and the golden rule. 
 
 And, as the pathos of thy plea reached out 
 
 To hearts, to right this wrong, and greet thee as 
 
 A man, an equal in this land so free, 
 
 It found them not of stone, but those where words 
 
 Will root and grow, then, in good time bear fruit. 
 
 Pray, judge not all by acts of few; but, with 
 
 The christian heart and hand find welcome here 
 
 And bravely plead, as thou dar'st plead, thy wrongs? 
 
 The breadth and depth of God's eternal love. 
 
 The "Three in One" — the Master Builder of 
 
 Such zealous hearts, such gifted minds as Thine. 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 Iecember's breath, so clear, so cold, 
 JGoes sweeping by so brisk and bold 
 ^That thro' my frame it vigor throws 
 While 'neatli my feet the frosty snows 
 Just crack and crackle, crusty grows. 
 
 The drifting snow in heaps that last 
 
— 62 — 
 
 Till March, whose echoing- winds then pelt 
 Us with liard hailstones as they melt 
 And leave us but the chill we felt. 
 
 Why love I this cold Alpine shrine 
 When e"en the year goes in decline 
 And falls beneath his rival's tread, 
 Who stalks forth boldly — never led? 
 What careth he? the old year's dead. 
 
 Well, I will tell you why the charm 
 
 E'er cheers and comforts, makes me warm 
 
 As thro' my frame it coursing goes 
 
 And makes me strong — my cheek red glows— 
 
 Old mem' vies UKxke — December knows! 
 
 Way down among the eastern hills 
 A house there stood by rippling rills. 
 Where sat around a glowing tire 
 A Mother, daughters, son, and Sire, 
 So light of heart, while winds conspire. 
 
 Once, on a time, while snow-plow pressed 
 The pond'rous heaps by winds caressed; 
 While faggots burned — a cheerful fire — 
 I watched thro' lattice^ horse and Sire; 
 (As blew the winds, the snow piled higher.) 
 
 Yes, higher, higher, till it seemed 
 No surcease of its anger dreamed; 
 While on one pile, a snow-bird dropped 
 From off a limb that faithless propped, 
 'Mid whirling winds and snow it stopped. 
 
— 63 — 
 
 There 'neath the flakes, it buried lay 
 Like hopes oft built on faithless stay; 
 Engulfing all — so deep — so deep 
 That Hope her vigil dare not keep, 
 That tears — no, no, one cannot weep. 
 
 The house still stands, but gone are they 
 Where neither winds nor storm hold sway: 
 Lo! in the grave they buried lie, 
 Their spirits rest in heaven on high, 
 Until the breath of God sweeps by. 
 
 Oh, for those days of joy once more, 
 Again live o'er those days of yorel 
 Bectmher! bring them back again 
 With living form, lilce April rain, 
 The grasses, flowers, that dead have lain'. 
 
 AN OLDEN STORY. 
 
 "■r^. 
 
 j|iE nations who in bondage dwell, 
 ^O, list! the story I would tell; 
 ^Behold the flag of State unfurled 
 The stars and stripes greet all the world. 
 
 Unto His name be all the praise 
 For guidance in those dark, sad days, 
 That led them on to freedom, fame, 
 All praise be to His holy name. 
 
 In olden time a people grieved 
 O'er burdens borne — no hand relieved; 
 A ki'ng decreed, "thus shall it be. 
 And none must question my decree."' 
 
6i 
 
 Assembled then, some fearless men, 
 With faithful wives, to ask God when 
 He'd lead them to a land more free. 
 Would guide their vessels o'er the sea. 
 
 The morning davv^ned, auspicious morn! 
 The band embarked who looked with scorn 
 On one man's power to thus enslave 
 Such able men, as well as brave. 
 
 They sailed thro' sunshine, storm, at sea; 
 They prayed the Father's mercies be 
 Vouchsafed to guide them, to a land 
 Where all could worship, conscience manned. 
 
 They came upon a rocky shore, 
 A wild wierd waste, — now, loved in lore; 
 There down upon their knees they sank. 
 To humbly pray — their God to thank. 
 
 Yes, thank Him for this rocky waste, 
 For all His care — His love they taste. 
 For worship on this holy hill; 
 His loving hand supports them still. 
 
 They built them homes of mud and logs; 
 They tilled the land, in spite of clogs 
 That hurt their weary hands and feet, 
 While still they prayed in accents sweet: — 
 
 "So let us live that earth and sea 
 Shall marvel at a Nation free; 
 Where none is King, hut Thee, O, God! 
 Who rules o'er all with loving rod." 
 
— 65 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 To the CITY OF BOSTON. 
 
 fHOU quaint old City by the sea 
 With circling narrow streets, with tow'ring elms, 
 Strange birth-marks of the years gone by, which 
 point 
 To foot-prints of those heroes of the past — 
 The place of carnage — woe — renown. All this. 
 And more, revealed this truth; oppression dire 
 Drove man to desperate deeds — to dare, to die, 
 For freedom, right of man to equal man. 
 To worship God in light revealed to him. 
 With awe I walked thro' classic halls and streets 
 And scanned there the proof of history's page; 
 Saw where those martyrs, victors, slept unharmed 
 Just where they'd chosen rest with kindred dear. 
 Ennobling deed, preserving old-time graves. 
 Those stately elms, those moss grown stones, 
 From ruthless hands — rapacious greed and gain! 
 Thou Old, yet New, our "Athens" by the sea. 
 Art prone to cull from every pendent boagh 
 The laurel leaves as thine by right, and then. 
 As if 'twere not enough for thee to own 
 This prestige of historic worth, thou, too. 
 Must hold our sweetest singer, bond, yet free. 
 Who sings us songs brimful of mirth. 
 We trust — we know thou'lt guard and care 
 Most tenderlv his life — each silvered hair. 
 
— 66 — 
 
 To DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 August 29, 189 It. 
 fREETING: — 
 
 Most honored Sir! I greeting sand; 
 
 The loving cup I'd also pass 
 With wine as rare as kiss of lass, 
 If thou thy muse to me would lend. 
 
 Sailing on o'er peaceful waters 
 
 Is a bark with silvered oars, 
 While the redd'ning rays of sunset 
 
 Fall in beauty on the shores. 
 
 Sailing on to shores — the mystic — 
 
 Led by subtle spirit forms 
 Eeaching out and upward pointing 
 
 To a crown all free from thorns. 
 
 Bright the morning, clear the day-break 
 
 When the earthy pass away; 
 Clear reflection in the waters 
 
 When the tide sliall ebb for aye. 
 
 Nearer, nearer, floating slowly. 
 Listless, still, the bark will be, 
 
 Closer, closer, to the haven — 
 Nearer, O, my God, to Thee! 
 
— 67 — 
 
 To JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY, 
 
 greeting: 
 
 Judged and sentenced, thou writer of themes 
 Aglow with keen wit and pleasing day-dreams, 
 JVI'iirmurings mellow, like '-Eunning of Brooks" 
 Easy and flowing thro' the shadiest nooks. 
 Sunlight soft lingers i' the leaves of thy books. 
 
 What is the welcome we give to thy song? 
 How is it gaged by the critical throng? 
 It's not to be ranked with product of purse 
 That stocks up the market with mis'rable verse, 
 Cold and unfeeling — all nature reverse; 
 Oh, no! we will bring choice wine o'er the sea, 
 Magnolia's grand blossoms, bay from the tree. 
 Bunches of roses and laurel, for thee. 
 
 Rich are thy songs, when the nightingale sings 
 
 In plaintive sweet tones, '-Green Fields" it e"er brings 
 
 Laureate poet, thy pass-word shall be 
 
 Ever an earnest of true minstrelsy; 
 
 Yea, bring the beaker, tlie crown is for thee! 
 
— 6S — 
 
 VICTORIA. 
 
 {Respcdjully ascribed to the noblest of queens, Her Majesty Victoria, 
 Queen of England and Empress of India.) 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, SEPT. 1891. 
 
 Qf^RE ev'ning shadows gather dark and chill, 
 
 itMost noble Queen, a spray of laurel buds, 
 
 ^^^Of kindly thoughts and words of thy grand reign, 
 
 Send I to thee. Men crown with laurel wreaths 
 
 Their heroes when they're senseless clay, when soul 
 
 Has passed beyond the pale of peace or war. 
 
 But thou, most queenly Queen, shalt not go hence 
 
 Till o'er the waters wide my message's borne 
 
 To thee. Ah! well remember I the day, 
 
 It seems hot long ago, when thou, so young, 
 
 So fair, wert crowned Queen o'er all the Isles 
 
 Of Britain far beyond the sea. And thou 
 
 A woman. Dainty, loving, loved by all, 
 
 Thou'st stood the trial test with nerve of steel. 
 
 Of honor, virtue; able to achieve 
 
 An honored reign. So quietly hast thou 
 
 The cares, the honors borne, that people yet 
 
 Unborn shall tell the story of thy life. 
 
 Thou'st reigned a Queen with regal, righteous reign; 
 
 An Empress, too, o'er India's distant lands; 
 
 And still a Mother, fond and true, most kind. 
 
 When ayel the Master called thine loving Prince 
 
 Away from thee and left thee desolate. 
 
 Save but the lesser honors of a Queen, 
 
 The surging sorrows of thy heart swept o'er 
 
 The ocean broad, which echoed back to thee 
 
 Thy idol's broken — gone — behold the King! 
 
— C>9 — 
 
 Thy sun tho' losing not its lustrous rays, 
 
 Is nearing sunset glow, the eve of life. 
 
 And, as backward lookest thou, thou'lt see 
 
 Thy record — life well spent, a noble reign. 
 
 Thou'st strewn along the wayside, gems of worth, 
 
 True deeds of womanhood, most pueenly, too; 
 
 And when the twilight cometh, as it will, 
 
 Of age and ills, the heritage of all, 
 
 Thou'lt lay not by this crown, the nobler part. 
 
 But, Interwoven 'mid the leaves, wilt find 
 
 There shining, lustrous gems, thy virtues true; 
 
 And ere thou enter thy eternal rest, 
 
 Thou'lt find there, too, thou wert beloved by all. 
 
 GREETING. 
 
 'E come! ho, we come! with our greeting and song^ 
 ■Bear witness, ye breezes, while wafting along 
 ^Dispersing the harmonies fresh from our hearts 
 Where dwelleth reunion which honor imparts. 
 We come! yes, we come! and we joyfully raise 
 Our hearts and our voices in peans to praise 
 Our Heavenly Father Who taught us to love 
 Our brother as Him Who e'er dwelleth above. 
 The sun in its brightness, dispelled the dark cloud, 
 The grief of the night was deep buried in shroud, 
 With joy in the morning we greet the new day 
 While united be ever the Blue and the Gray. 
 We come! ho, we come! with the flag to the breeze, 
 Brave soldiers who e'er on the land or the seas 
 Will fight for its honor and for deference due, 
 For united we stand the Grav and the Blue. 
 
— 70 — 
 MY BABY. 
 
 g^ FRED. 
 
 .|&Y baby is blithe and handsome, 
 %|l A tiny wee bit of clay, 
 '^2|)'His eyes are like dew in sunlight 
 At fullness of high noonday. 
 
 His dimples, amid the roses 
 Pink tinting his cheeks so fair, 
 
 Seem like the charms of a fairy 
 When his laughter ripples the air. 
 
 We frolic on lawn and gam.bol 
 As tho' there no evil could be; 
 
 His look so trustful, confiding, 
 Bespeaketh a volume to me. 
 
 When dark seem the hours and lonely, 
 The light in his face doth shine 
 
 Like stars in the blue of the heaven, 
 
 A radiant light — divine. 
 
 He stands by my side in sorrow 
 And speaketh kind words to me; 
 
 We talk of the heavenly Father, 
 The beauties a christian can see. 
 
 In youth he sought not the scorner 
 But ever the paths of the good; 
 
 Among the christians he lingered, 
 A singer of Zion he stood. 
 
 When manhood at last he reaches 
 He still is as loyal and true; 
 
 Is singing so well the story 
 
 Of Him Who hath died for you. 
 
- 71 — 
 
 His voice well rend'reth the anthem 
 While his fingers glide over the keys, 
 
 Pathet'cally answers the organ 
 Voicing the tenderest breves. 
 
 O, e'er may his lamp be burning 
 When over the river I've crossed 
 
 And reached the portal rejoicing 
 That Christ has his name engrossed. 
 
 DREAM ON, BUT DREAM OF ME. 
 
 Serenade for Quartette. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, DEC. 13, 1897. 
 
 INTRADA. 
 
 . s sleeps my borinie, bonnie lass, 
 "J'll hie me o'er the wild-wood pass; 
 )§iWhen 'neath her window shadows play, 
 I'll sing my plaint in love's own lay. 
 
 I'll ask the sleeper, soft and low. 
 If to my heart she'll speed the glow 
 Of loving thoughts and words that thrill, 
 My longing heart with song to fill. 
 
 SERENADE. 
 
 Dream on^ sweetheart, but dream of me 
 Who drifts alone on life's deep sea; 
 Who sighs as o'er the desert plain 
 Of hopes deferred, hears no refrain. 
 
 Call me thy lover bold and true 
 In fancy's realm when dreams are due, 
 Call me thine own, when wakeful hours 
 Shall find thee culling love's own flow'rs. 
 
When in my song thy face I see, 
 Those drooping eyelids lift to me 
 And fondly tell me, mine thou'lt be 
 Mine, mine alone! Thou lovest me! 
 Good-night, my love, sweet be thy dreams. 
 Thy fancies be of pleasant themes; 
 Hope lives once more in this lone heart. 
 Mine, mine thou'lt be, mine ne'er to part. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Good-night, sweetheart, good-night, good-night, 
 My heart's aglow with love's pure light. 
 Good-night, good-night, sweet be thy dreams. 
 Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night. 
 
 BELLS OF EASTER MORN. 
 
 Jl , SWEET toned bells of Easter Morn 
 'H What means the charming peal? 
 ^ Why does the lily best adorn? 
 
 Why filled the soul with zeal? 
 The answ'ring chimes — our Christ on high 
 
 Is risen from the dead. 
 He, pure in heart, is ever nigh. 
 
 Makes soft the dying bed. 
 All hail bright morn and soulful bell! 
 
 All hail the lily fair! 
 With gladsome hearts with song we'll tell 
 
 He conquered Death — despair, 
 Lo! when the heav'ns are ope'd, that day 
 
 We'll see him "face to face." 
 O, blessed hope, our steadfast stay 
 
 While joys of heav'n we trace. 
 
— 73 - 
 
 JACK FROST'S CHOICE. 
 
 Quartette. 
 
 SEXTO MUSIC. COPYRIGHTED, FEB. 14, 1898. 
 
 GIVE me the winter with plenty of snow, 
 f A cold, bracing winter, good sleighing, oh, ho! 
 A lass peeping out 'neath the robes as we go. 
 Yes, hail to thee, Winter! my secret you know. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ho! Winter is coming, is coming, heigho! 
 Oli Winter is coming, heigho-o-o-ol 
 The harvest is gathered, the wood piled below, 
 The cider's all ready — Time's flight is too slow. 
 My Bess is a beauty, she's charmingly so, 
 Her eyes are the brownest, of lassies I know, 
 They sparkle like crystals, they twinkle and glow, 
 Outshining in brightness the stars as we go. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ho! Winter is coming, is coming, heigho! 
 Old Winter is coming, heigho-o-o-o! 
 Oh, give me the Winter with plenty of snow. 
 My Bess and the bells ringing merrily, oh! 
 Her cheeks are as rosy as apples, I know. 
 For oft am I tempted to steal their bright glow, 
 As over the snow-drifts we laughingly go, 
 Old Winter won't tell you my secret, I trow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ho! Winter is coming, is coming, heigho! 
 Old Winter is coming, heigho-o-o-o! 
 Yes, give me the Winter with plenty of snow, 
 My Bess and the jingle of bells, oh, ho, ho! 
 
— u — 
 BEHOLD THE STARS OF NIGHT. 
 
 Christmas Anthem. 
 
 Vol. III. Auntie Em's Songs for Children. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, 1895. 
 
 "JEHOLD, behold, the stars of night! 
 
 iBright gems of light, 
 (i^ijj'All scattered o'er the skies gray blue, 
 His sent'nels true. 
 
 At rest amid the harsh, coarse hay. 
 Our Savior lay. 
 
 While lowing cattle caught the strain 
 Of heaven's refrain. 
 
 Behold, behold, the Lamb of God! 
 Where cattle trod! 
 
 The King of kings, our Father's Son, 
 The ONLY One! 
 
 Thou sacred Head, oh! could it be 
 ]N"o place for Thee, 
 To better pillow Thy dear Head, 
 Than this bare shed? 
 
 Wild ring, O, bells, thy chimes in swells, 
 In strain that tells 
 To all the world our Savior's birth 
 Has blessed the earth. 
 
— TO — 
 
 THE PATRIOT'S REFRAIN. 
 
 Vol. III. Auntie Em's Songs for Children. 
 
 SET TO MUSIC. COPYRIGHTED, 1896. 
 
 LOVE thee, my country, of thee will I sing. 
 And praise thee forever; to thee will I bring 
 ^Tlie leaves of the laurel to weave in thy crown, — 
 'Twere won for thy wearing by deeds of renown. 
 I'll cheer for thy prowess o'er land and o'er sea, 
 And cheer for thy symbol of peace floating free 
 That welcomes the stranger, that opens the door, 
 That the poorest may prosper as never before. 
 For thee, my dear country, for thee will I sing, 
 Till mountain and valley glad echoes shall ring; 
 Yes, I will exalt thee, but never debase thee. 
 Will fight with a will for freedom and thee. 
 
 WELCOME. 
 
 To Little E. C. 
 
 )UTH gleaned in days of old, from scattered sheaves 
 yOf golden grain, as followed she the men 
 'Who toiled from morn till eve; yet, scarce she spake 
 One word, but gleaned for sustenance. To her 
 The world seem'd shadow'd o'er with clouds so dark, 
 That came so near; 'twas night since Mahlon died. 
 But, scatter'd 'long her pathway, heavy heads 
 Of grain she found that yielded kernels rich; 
 And rays of sunshine flashed aslant like smiles 
 From Heaven. So, too, may fortune smile on thee 
 Whose tiny form is closely cuddled now. 
 As happy as was once the Ruth of old. 
 Unconscious that the world has naught but peace 
 And joy therein. With laurels crown'd may'st thou 
 
— 76 — 
 
 Be spared from grief, from poison'd shafts, from pen 
 Or tongue, or thus from gleaning golden grain 
 O'er fields of stubble. A.ye! may'st reap rich grain 
 All garner'd — come to thee, as leaves do fall 
 In Autumn, — easily. 
 
 ARBITRATION. 
 
 January, 1S97. 
 
 ^HEN people rise 'gainst persecution sore, 
 From grasping tyrants ever asking more; 
 *A people burdened, humbled, and enslaved, 
 Rise to be free, tho' homes in blood are laved. 
 Lift up thy kindly voice, stretch forth thy hands; 
 Dost thou not hear the wail from other lands. 
 Loved T^ation of the North? O, heed their plea. 
 The cry of wives and children calling thee. 
 Let all the nations join, — the wise — the strong — 
 To arbitrate, — appease the warring throng: 
 To help with earnest words and right good will, 
 Till peace and gladness sound from hill to hill. 
 Let Independence raise her drooping head 
 Rejoiced, the King of glory reigns instead. 
 Each Nation, Island, all on sea or land. 
 Heed well His loving words. His wise commands; 
 Proclaim to all on earth, that God is King, 
 His promise sure — that He will blessings bring; 
 Will stay Oppression's hand, the tyrant's heel; 
 'Tis God and God alone to Whom all kneel. 
 Sheathed be the sword unstained by blood of man, 
 No battles fought with breth'ren, race nor clan. 
 Controlled the fiery zeal, the great unrest, 
 The heav'nly Master sayeth, "Peace is best." 
 
— 77 — 
 KNOWEST THOU. 
 
 'HEisr I am dead, knowest thou I'm glad 
 ^From all life's changes to be freed? 
 •Am glad no more of censure clad 
 In vain conceit and jealous greed, 
 Can once again my soul e'er grieve; 
 No galling words — no problems meet? 
 Am glad the realms of Death relieve 
 The soul from bondage, then, I'll justice greet? 
 Knowest thou what 'tis to trust a friend, 
 One prized for lack of selfish thought 
 That fain would lighten loads that rend 
 The heart with cares o'erwrought. 
 And find deep, rankling envy there 
 With jealous thoughts, 'neath smiles they wear? 
 
 PETITION. 
 
 , Thou great Builder of this vast domain, 
 I Of us. Thy children — all that lives and is, 
 § Whose breath controls the winds — the roughest 
 waves— 
 Who holds the key, the knowledge of our worth — 
 Our destiny, for all Eternity. 
 When dawns the light of that all glorious morn, 
 Wilt Thou, O, Father, lead us to the light. 
 The perfect day? 'Tis said, "the dead shall live 
 Again," come forth from graves where they have lain 
 For time untold, renewed, to dwell with Thee. 
 
LOVE'S PLAINT. 
 
 C03IE to me on thy waking, 
 Yes, come in tlie morning hour; 
 S|^ O, come when the birds are singing, 
 
 'Tis then the bee sips the flow'r. 
 I'll tell thee then of the May-time, 
 
 The linnet who piped alone; 
 The lark who mocked at the piping 
 
 With broken, tender tone. 
 The robin who swung on the branches. 
 
 With beautiful, bright-red vest. 
 Who sang the song of the forest 
 
 And roused all the birds from rest. 
 Who warbled and sang most sweetly. 
 
 Who swung and listened that day; 
 With beautiful notes enticing — 
 
 Triumphantly sailed away. 
 I'll tell to thee then the story, 
 
 A story that's old, so old, 
 'Twill thrill like sweetest of music. 
 
 Like a story that's never been told„ 
 I'll tell thee how much I love thee, 
 
 I'll ask thee my heart to enfold; 
 I'll sing of my love, my longing, 
 
 The longing for love untold. 
 O, come to me in the morning, 
 
 The birds will echo thy song; 
 O, come when the dew is pearly, 
 
 O, hasten thy steps along. 
 
DRAFTED. 
 
 'TANDS a ruin by the roadside 
 
 IWhere once dwelt a happy pair 
 
 With their brig-ht and rose-cheeked children, 
 All the world to them was fair. 
 Seasons came and went so cheerful 
 All seemed bright — naught could ensnare; 
 In the field with pride and vigor 
 Worked young Elwin free from care. 
 Whistling merrily while working, 
 Thinking not of war or woe, 
 And when western sun was sinking 
 Lightly tripped o'er stubbled row. 
 Round the table then were gathered 
 Happy hearts, while faces glow 
 Full of sunshine, quickly passing 
 When a soldier said,"Hello!" 
 Entered then an austere stranger 
 Saying thus, "Dear sir, a call 
 Call for troops; our flag^s In danger, 
 Drafted— help defend— that's all!" 
 Drafted! swiftly was the speeding 
 Straight to hearts, with crushing blow; 
 Fatal words! O, why, the blighting, 
 Dark'ning homes with shadows so? 
 Darkness gathered o'er the household. 
 Forth the husband, father, went; 
 Long the contest, long the heart-ache. 
 Aching with its grief unspent. 
 Want and hardships hearts are breaking, 
 
— 80 — 
 
 Clouds grow darker, thunders roll; 
 O'er the threshold's brought the father 
 While the church bell knells its toll. 
 Ah! the stranger little dreamed 
 Words he uttered then, "that's all," 
 Carried with them untold mis'ries, 
 Buried joys beyond recall. 
 O'er a grave the grass is growing, 
 Vacant is the ruined home. 
 Widely scattered are the children, 
 But the flag floats o^er the dome. 
 
 WAR. 
 
 I'ALLiNG, dying, 'tis appalling 
 What I read — the message true: 
 
 ■See in vision soldiers battling, 
 Battling for the freedom due. 
 
 Oh, how sad the sequel of it, 
 Freedom won by shot and shell I 
 
 What is man that Thou art mindful 
 That he doeth all things well? 
 
 Many mourn the son, the lover. 
 Falling ere the vict'ry's won; 
 
 Falling, pierced with shell or bullet, 
 Falling 'neath a torrid sun. 
 
 Far away the dew is gath'ring 
 On the pale, the loved one's face; 
 
 Oh, how cruel, oh, how bitter 
 War is to a Christian race! 
 
— 81 — 
 
 THE HERO OF MANILA. 
 
 DEDICATED TO ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY. 
 
 "Auntie Em's Songs for Children." 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, JUNE 3, 1898. 
 
 [EN Dewey first sighted Manila, 
 The stars were near hiding their light, 
 ?And off near the shores of the city 
 Were treacherous missiles of might. 
 
 But fearless and bravely he waited 
 Till morning succeeded the night. 
 
 Then out from the throats of the cannon 
 He dealt them a blow from the risrht. 
 
 Loud echoed 'mid din of the battle 
 Those talsmanic words in refrain. 
 
 From sailors, the crew, and the captain, 
 ^^Bememher, remember the MaineV 
 
 Then, on from the left forth there thundered 
 The roar of the cannon once more, 
 
 Brave Dewey liad leveled their fortress. 
 An op'ning for freedom e'ermore. 
 
 Sing praise for the masterful leader, 
 
 Weave laurel and crown him Sir Knight! 
 
 Give cheers for the bravest of sailors. 
 With three for sweet freedom and right. 
 
82 
 
 VICTORY. 
 
 JHANKS be to God, 
 All, all rejoice; 
 
 Sing loud His praise, 
 Victory voice! 
 
 Victory the cry! 
 
 Eing the death-knell, 
 Broken's the yoke, 
 
 Eing, ring the bell. 
 
 Mourn for the dead, 
 Grieve for the loss; 
 
 Strew o'er their graves 
 Garlands of moss. 
 
 Gallant and brave 
 Fought on the sea. 
 
 Fought on the hill, 
 Cuba to free. 
 
 God ne'er'll forget 
 Where'er they lie 
 
 Still in His care 
 Under His sky. 
 
83 
 
 GIVE EAR, O LORD! 
 
 Juhj 3, 1898. 
 
 M^N this hour of vict'ry hearken, 
 1 Father, hear my prayer, draw nigh; 
 §Bring Thou peace and stop the carnage, 
 Hear, Thou, Father, pass not by. 
 
 Let not greed nor vain ambition, 
 Let not passion lead tliem on; 
 
 Save, oh, save from war — destruction! 
 Let all lean Thy staff upon. 
 
 Look Thou down upon the armies, 
 
 Guide the leaders safely on; 
 Lull the warring spirit in us. 
 
 Give us peace — the vict'ry won. 
 
 Let the flag of freedom flourish 
 O'er the earth, o'er isle and sea; 
 
 That all people shall acknowledge 
 Thou art God, all rest in Thee. 
 
 WE GREET THEE. 
 
 fovED Isle of the Cuban, 
 Dear Isle of the sea; 
 ^Oh, bring forth the chalice 
 Sweet wine is for thee. 
 
 We greet thee, thou fair one! 
 
 For soon thou'lt be free; 
 Then sing in thy gladness 
 
 Of joys that will be. 
 
— 84 
 
 SENTENCE. 
 
 The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice; let the multitudes of the isles 
 be glad tliercof.—FSAhu xcvii. 
 
 ^r^RAiSE ye the Lord! 
 
 JKRejoice, with a glad heart 
 
 ^That the isles of the sea 
 
 He hath remembered; 
 
 In mercy heard their cry, 
 
 And backward turned their foes. 
 
 Give praise unto His name 
 
 Who gaveth strength to those 
 
 Who went to the field of battle — 
 
 Who saved them from defeat. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord 
 
 Who covered with the hollow of His hand 
 
 Those who went down to the sea 
 
 In ships, to feed the hungry — 
 
 Free from oppression! All praise 
 
 Be to the Lord of Hosts, ever, evermore! 
 
 In Thy Depths, 
 O SEA! 
 
 LA BOVRGOGUsE, wrecked July h, 1898. 
 
 ftraJREAK o'er the dead and lash thy spray, 
 JP O Sea! while age on age shall roll; 
 ^c|Thy endless surging — endless sway, 
 Can never mar the deathless soul. 
 
— 85 — 
 
 Down in thy bosom, buried deep, 
 Lie old and young, the fair, tlie plain. 
 
 In dreamless, everlasting sleep; 
 
 Where none can rescue — wake again. 
 
 Koll, roll thy waves, o'erpow'ring Sea! 
 
 Wail evermore thy dirge-like moan, 
 Till morn of Eesurrection be. 
 
 When God will raise, will claim His own. 
 
 ROBIN. 
 
 fAKE, robin, wake, 
 Summer's coming soon; 
 ^Wake, robin, wake, 
 Ere the heat of noon. 
 
 Sing, robin, sing, 
 Sing thy morning song; 
 
 Sing, robin, sing, 
 Bring thy singing throng. 
 
 Wake, robin, wake, 
 Sing thy thrilling lay; 
 
 Sing when first awake. 
 Sing at break of day. 
 
 Wake, robin, wake, 
 Ere thy birdlings peep; 
 
 Wake, robin, wake, 
 Sing them fast to sleep. 
 
— so — 
 TO HELEN. 
 
 g^AiirsiES for thee, O my darling, 
 Jl^ Freighted with perfume so sweet, 
 "^Mingling with rarest of blossoms 
 
 Lovingly laid at thy feet. 
 Why dost thou smile, O my darling, 
 
 Cupid not yet ope'd thine eyes? 
 Stories my heart now would tell thee— 
 
 Language of flowers implies. 
 
 LULLABY. 
 
 'WINGING slowly in her hammock, 
 Baby loves the cooling breeze; 
 
 'Blinking, teasing, laughing fairies 
 Dance around the swaying trees. 
 
 Creeping slowly, slumber's coming. 
 Creeping close to baby's eyes; 
 
 Yet she's peeping, peeping, peeping, 
 Watching mother, with deep sighs. 
 
 Slumber, hugging baby closely, 
 Slowly creeps to Sleepytown; 
 
 Fairies tripping, lightly dancing, 
 Seek this place of world renown. 
 
 'Round her head the soft breeze coming, 
 Playing with her auburn curls; 
 
 While the bees in concert's humming 
 And the leaflet whirls and whirls. 
 
f 
 
 To my 
 
 GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
— 88 — 
 
 GOD'S DIAMONDS. 
 
 "Auntie Em's Song Leaves," Vol. II. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1890. 
 
 EE the sky as darkness covers 
 Earth with somber veil of night, 
 
 What a twinkling, blinking, winking, 
 Just like sparkling diamonds bright. 
 
 Ah! I know the names of many, 
 Know the place they stay at night: 
 
 Little stars, your worlds of brightness 
 Ever charm us with your light. 
 
 Said the moon in jealous anger 
 
 At the praise I did indite: — 
 "Only just one moment wait you 
 
 See, then, how I'll dim their light." 
 
 But the peerless stars did twinkle, 
 
 Twinkle on in merry glee; 
 Looking shyly at the moonbeams, 
 
 As if saying, "Wait and see!" 
 
 THE CHILD AND THE RAINBOW. 
 
 "Auntie Em's Song Leaves for Children" Vol. II. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1890. 
 
 Mother, do you see the sky 
 With lines of red and gold? 
 Oh, see! how closely they do lie 
 In blue and purple fold. 
 
— 89 — 
 
 What is it, Mother? how it bends! 
 
 So beautiful it glows 
 With colors, rich in beauty, blends — 
 
 I wonder if God knows? 
 
 O, tell me, Mother, why 'tis so; 
 
 If God will let it fall 
 Where I can find all in a row 
 
 Those pretty lines and all? 
 
 My darling child, the shining sun 
 
 Sends rays on drops of rain 
 To make the bow so finely hung 
 
 Amid the cloud's domain. 
 
 God knoweth all things, sees them all, 
 
 The bow His mandates fill; 
 The tiny drops and shining ball 
 
 Eeflect His promise still. 
 
 AMERICA, OUR FLAG, OUR HOME. 
 
 "Auntie Em's Song Leaves," Vol. IT. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1890. 
 
 MERiCA, how grand thy name, 
 
 The honored land of freedom's songi 
 
 )The stars and stripes our hearts inflame 
 Till welkin rings with echoes long. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Three cheers for thee, America! 
 Our Flag, the Nation's pride! 
 As float its folds o'er land and sea 
 Let none e'er dare deride. 
 
— 90 — 
 
 The pilgrim fathers, brave and true; 
 
 The pilgrim mothers, braver still. 
 Faced storms and battles, ne'er withdrew 
 
 Their fervent zeal or faith thro' ill. — Cho. 
 
 Those christian toilers, ever praise, 
 Who braved such trials to be free; 
 
 And guard with care thro' endless days 
 The priceless boon of liberty. — Cho. 
 
 Yes, freedom is our watch-word, song. 
 
 Sweet liberty to all who come, 
 And join in chorus loud and long, 
 
 America, our Flag, our Home! — Cho. 
 
 HARRY'S GARDEN. 
 
 "Auntie Em's Song Leaves,'' Vol. IT. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1889. 
 
 .j|AiNTY blossoms, pink and white, 
 Fragrant morn and eve. 
 When the dews of crystal light 
 Bathe the tender leaves. 
 
 Poppies in my garden, rare. 
 
 Sleepy, soothing flowers 
 Dream away all day out there, 
 
 Washed by gentle showers. 
 
 Roses, gems of all the flow'rs, 
 
 Perfume thine so sweet, 
 When thy beauty's marred with showeTs, 
 
 Hidden thorns we greet. 
 
— 91 — 
 
 TO THE BIRDS IN THE WOODS. 
 
 "Auntie Em's Song Leaves," Vol. II. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED, 1889. 
 
 g-iNG sweet, bonnie bird, thy matin notes clear, 
 ^As liigli soar'st above witli birdlings so near, 
 ^Yes, warble together, trill little words 
 Thou sweetest of singers — beauteous birds. 
 
 All nature'll be silent, cheer with your song. 
 His presence seems near Who's given this throng; 
 We feel to rejoice and praise evermore 
 Our Father in heav'n, yes, ever adore. 
 
 As floats e'er aloft the soothing, sweet lay 
 While idly we sit the long Summer day; 
 Aye! dreaming and list'ning, hearts full of love. 
 To echoes from heav'n those notes from ab'ove. 
 
 Such melodies pure, harmonious strain. 
 That angels might listen, join in refrain; 
 Then cease not thy song all thro' the long day, 
 But cheer us with music's sweet, soothing lay. 
 
 THE ANGEL'S REPLY. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1889. AUNTIE EM'S SONG LEAVES, VO'.. II. 
 
 NGELS are watching thee ever. 
 Thy trials and sorrows are known, 
 
 )God will forget thee, no, never! 
 He'll gather the lambs 'round His throne. 
 
 Sleep then, my own darling boy, 
 
 Thy wishes are noted above; 
 Christmas shall be one of joy 
 
 With blessings of heavenly love. 
 
— 92 — 
 
 THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1896. AUNTIE EM'S SONGS FOR CHILDREN. VOL. III. 
 
 *n#isthelastdayofschool,then,hurrah, boys, hurrah! 
 
 M We will shout and we'll sing with joyous eclat; 
 
 ^ Then away with our books,think how merry we'll be 
 As we play in the sands far away by the sea. 
 
 As away up the mountain so high we will ride 
 O'er the peak and thro' dell, with our steaming horse 
 
 guide; 
 We will gather the flowers so wild, and we'll bring 
 Many specimens rare, from the rocks where they cling. 
 
 "Will you shout for me, too?" said our fair little Ruth, 
 "As I'm only a girl ,that is all, it's the truth. 
 And, so weak, say the boys, I'm just fit (so they say) 
 With my dolls and my kittens forever to play." 
 
 WELCOME TO SPRING. 
 
 'Auntie Em's Song Leaves," Vol. II. 
 
 OOPrRIGHTED 1889. 
 
 LL hail to bright Spring with the charm it doth 
 
 bring! 
 Dame Nature has wakened, let's laugh and be gay ; 
 The wood flow'rsin blossom, the wood larks all sing; 
 All hail to the Spring! Yes, all hail! we all say. 
 
 Wild violets peep from out under dead leaves. 
 With welcome to Spring with its warm and soft 
 show'rs; 
 The lambs bleat in chorus, the robins on eaves 
 Sing welcome, glad welcome, bright Spring morn- 
 ing hours. 
 
— 93 — 
 
 OUR FLAG. 
 
 [he stars and the stripes proudly wave in the 
 breeze 
 
 A witness to Nations ot Freedom's decrees; 
 While under the folds we securely may stand, 
 Prosperity, fruitfulness, ever at hand. 
 
 May it peacefully wave, our guardian e'er be, 
 As bide we on land or we travel on sea; 
 Impress us to practice the law it implies, 
 Lest our watch-word's impeached, our boasting but 
 lies. 
 
 WHAT IS IT? 
 
 HAVE something I love with gray eyes that glow 
 [And fur that is soft and as black as a crow: 
 \So softly she walks without even a shoe, 
 That often she frightens my little doll Sue, 
 
 I get her a ball and she tangles the twine, 
 Her eyes will then sparkle filled full of sunshine, 
 And then she will jump as tho' after a mouse. 
 Pretend to be chasing it over the house. 
 
 Now guess what it is, and I'll give you some fruit. 
 And then- if you'll catch her, I'll show you how cute 
 She drinks from her cup, then she's off in a trice 
 And wants you to seek her as she seeks the mice. 
 
— 94 — 
 
 A STORY FOR BOYS. 
 
 <^N Hagerstown there lived a man 
 II So quaint and old, it seemed life's span 
 §Was nearly run, that he no more 
 This earth could claim but as the door 
 To entrance of the farther shore. 
 
 So old and wrinkled, strange his ways. 
 He seemed to come from ancient days; 
 He walked the streets with downcast eyes 
 As tho' his thoughts were 'bout the skies 
 His home above — whene'er he dies. 
 
 But this same man was once as gay 
 As brightest lad e'er found this day, 
 High held his head, as born to rule, 
 And 'round him flocked the boys at school; 
 He lacked not friends — he was no fool. 
 
 He thought 'twas fine to treat with wine 
 As manhood ripened, so did dine 
 With jolly friends, all full of glee; 
 And jokes went 'round as all were free 
 To use their wit in repartee. 
 
 The wine flowed freely and the mind 
 
 Of each the group grew thick and blind 
 
 To right or wrong. The cards were brought 
 
 And sums put up, without a thought 
 
 To what it led — the scheme they sought. 
 
— 95 — 
 
 The game went on, the wine still flowed 
 And all were dazzled by its load 
 Of fancies strange, dear friends were foes. 
 They quarreled, so the story goes, 
 Till all were gulphed in deepest woes. 
 The dear bright boy, the brilliant man 
 Had squandered all, for licensed ban 
 Had fired his brain and downward led; 
 He paused not till his hands were red 
 With blood from boon companions shed. 
 He fled, as from a, nightmare bound. 
 From home and friends till here he's found 
 Without a trace of previous grace 
 To tell the tale of former place 
 Of home or kindred or of race. 
 An outcast from his old hearth-stone, 
 Remorse that tears could ne'er atone 
 Filled full his soul. With no assets 
 His sins rose up in dark concepts. 
 Without one hope — all vain regrets. 
 Let's ask this man, so aged and worn, 
 Would't not been best ne'er were he born 
 To quaff the fire that burned his life. 
 Robbed him of virture, riches — wife, 
 And drowned his nobler sense in strife? 
 Just listen, boys, the picture scan 
 And see if laws with reason ran, 
 The man would thus have lost his dower 
 His manhood, too, in one short hour 
 Were tempters vile all shorn of powW. 
 
— 96 — 
 
 What think you, boys, of this sad tale? 
 JPlease, ponder well before you mail 
 The answer which I seek to know; 
 From your best judgment let it flow 
 In language plains — the culprit shoiv. 
 
 Which one the greater sinner, he 
 Who drank the wine? or can it be 
 The man who sold the pois'nous draught? 
 Or, deeper still on him the graft 
 Who for a sum gave licensed shaft? 
 
 DOLLY. 
 
 |OLLY Dimple, 
 
 IWhy so simple, 
 
 [Why not sometimes look more staid? 
 Have all dollies 
 Thus your follies, 
 Is it 'cause you are afraid? 
 
 Looking silly. 
 
 Little Willie 
 Thinks you are a stupid maid I 
 
 O, my dolly, 
 
 Not your folly 
 That your face's with smiles o'er laid; 
 
 I am sorry 
 
 You should worry 
 'Cause I did your smiles upbraid; 
 
 Yes, my jolly 
 
 Little dolly. 
 When I knew 'twas the way you're made! 
 
— 97 — 
 
 WHY THESE JOYS? 
 
 COPVRIOHTEDj 1«91. auntie EM'S SONG LEAVES. VOL. II. 
 
 [AT mean these joyous bells, their music charms 
 mine ear? 
 What mean these brilliant lights, that gleam so 
 dazzling clear? 
 These people singing songs, so full of heav'nly zeal, 
 Till hallelujah's ring — all, inspiration feel? 
 
 Methinks it something rare must be, to cause such joy, 
 To call forth all this praise, good cheer, with no alloy; 
 Some object worthy, or perhaps, some act well done, 
 Calls forth such praise, such cheer, as tense as noon- 
 day sun. 
 
 I've heard a story told, how once a Child was born 
 In manger low, there rested till the break of morn. 
 "There was no room then, in the Inn," the landlord 
 
 said, 
 No downy pillow offered he, but hay instead. 
 
 I've heard it said a brilliant star, so bright it led 
 The Shepherd straightway o'er the hills and to His 
 
 bed; 
 They bowed in rev'rence to the Child, Him presents 
 
 brought. 
 And 'midst this homage so profound. His name they 
 
 sought. 
 
 And shall I tell you, do you know this stranger Boy? 
 Or what His name Who's filled the world with so much 
 joy? [lays, 
 
 'Tis for His birth these bells do ring, these lights, these 
 God' a iSon,our Lord,who gave such joy to Christmas days. 
 
— 98 — 
 
 TO RUTH. 
 
 'he curls and kisses 
 
 For little misses, 
 jRegrets for the gray-locks, Time the way blocks; 
 
 Many good wishes 
 
 For birthday blisses 
 And many the years untarnished with tears. 
 
 AMONG MY TREASURES. 
 
 y EARCHiNG among my treasures so dear, 
 ^Many the joy, full many the tear; 
 Letters of love — old letters so sad — 
 Letters so sacred — with halo seem clad. 
 
 Finding a lock of father's dear hair, 
 Silvered and brown and so silken and fair: 
 Seemingly seeing his dignified face 
 Teaching me wisdom and kindness and grace: 
 
 Finding another's, mother's so dark. 
 Glossy and fine, as tho' holding life's spark; 
 Tracings of silver lie in the wave — 
 ■Heart, be thou still, and be patient, be brave. 
 
 Looking beneath some flowers there lay 
 Yellow and crumpled — I turned in dismay — 
 Stained by the dampness, laid in with rue, 
 Baby's dear clothes and his half worn shoe. 
 
— 99 — 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 To my Grandson on his Birthday, Jan. 12,1890. 
 
 By the marks of time I trace, 
 Lightly resting on thy face, 
 A twelve month, yes, one year — 
 Knowing this I greet thee, dear; 
 E'er rememb'ring how thy smile 
 Stole into my heart the while 
 Ling'ring lovingly with me; 
 Ever cherished shall it be. 
 Ever dear to memory. 
 
 GRANDMA'S SUMMER SONG. 
 
 TO LITTLE HELEN. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1891. AUNTIE EM'S SONGS FOR CHILDREN. VOL I 
 
 §yI nestle, my darling, on pillows of down. 
 And dream thee of faires, that clover heads 
 crown, . 
 While the grasshopper's song, with its rythmic flow, 
 Doth mingle its music with zephyrs that blow 
 
 And lull thee lo sleep, like the hum of the bee. 
 The buziz of the flies, or the waves of the sea; 
 
 The breezes, so gently, are fanning thy curls 
 As lightly as streamlet o'er pebbles low purls. 
 
 Ay! sleep in thy hammock, love, under the tree. 
 
 While softly the twittering birds in their glee, 
 Shall float o'er thy head, lest they wake with their 
 song 
 My treasure, my babe, who to dreamland hath 
 gone. 
 
— 100 — 
 
 LINCOLN CLASS-SONG. 
 
 Written by request and set to music for the graduating class of 
 Lincoln school, Chicago, III. 
 
 AUNTIE EM'S SONG LEAVES VO'.. II. COPYRIGHTED 1890. 
 
 H-o gently the sunshine is falling 
 
 With life giving warmth in its rays 
 It's op'ning the buds to full blossom 
 And gladd'ning the Summer's long days. 
 
 The robins that nestle above us 
 
 Are trilling their beautiful song 
 While Nature is beaming with brightness 
 
 Her verdure she's hasten'd along. 
 
 The showers and clouds may o'ertake her 
 
 (But glinting behind is the sun;) 
 She's glad of the copious blessing 
 
 She drinks up the raindrops as one. 
 
 Thus youth has its time for the gath'ring 
 Of jewels that knowledge has stored 
 
 And gleaning from out of her casket 
 
 The pearls of deep thought she would hoard. 
 
 Then faithful and true is the teacher 
 Who fiUeth with sunlight her room, 
 
 Diffusing like raindrops her blessing 
 By patiently helping to bloom. 
 
 Till, ripen'd like seed-cup of Autumn, 
 
 They gather to bid her good-by: 
 Yet, singing with sadness the class-song 
 
 And grieving that parting is nigh. 
 
~ 101 — 
 
 But bidding good-by in the sunshine 
 When glistening tears fill the eyes, 
 
 Like showers of April will brighten, 
 Will brighten all time as it flies. 
 
 To RUTH BOYDEN. 
 
 On her Birthday. March, U, 1889. 
 
 ^NE year of life, its joys, its ills, 
 
 Has passed with you, my little Kuth. 
 Although unseen by nie, I trill 
 The echoes of your worth in truth. 
 
 As rosebuds fragrance will impart, 
 
 Their beauty blending with their breath, 
 
 So sweetness from the human heart 
 Distils by faithfulness till death. 
 
 Just sixty years thus far, I ween, 
 
 Gi'en me full taste life's bitter-sweet. 
 
 While rays of light of heav'nly sheen. 
 Cheer on and guide my weary feet. 
 
 While you begin life's thread to wind 
 I trend my way to fields unknown, 
 
 Save but the footprints left behind 
 Of Him Who sits upon the throne. 
 
 Then may you e'er see from afar 
 The beacon light of heav'nly ray 
 
 To guide you on as Bethlehem's star 
 Did guide the Shepherd's darken'd way. 
 
— 103 — 
 
 A CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 'wo tiny black stockings were hung by the fire 
 
 And Eosy was fast asleep in her bed; 
 )When dear little Kitty at once did conspire 
 To pull them right down and under her head. 
 
 She quietly $lept a long time, I am sure, 
 When jingling of bells was heard overhead; 
 
 But Kitty kept still and was very demure 
 As Santa brought down a load from his sled. 
 
 All 'round the big chimney and under the bed 
 He hunted and hunted the stockings to find. 
 
 Till Kitty he spied; — and with not a word said 
 He jerked them out quickly — and Kit rolled behind. 
 
 And then there was music when Kit gave a bound, 
 Old Santa was frightened and ran for his sleigh. 
 
 While Rosy awakened and cried when she found 
 That Santa had fled with his bells far away. 
 
 CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 Auntie Em's Songs for Children. Vol. III. 
 
 SET TO MUSIC AND COPYRiaHTEO, 18SS. 
 
 JRiGHTLY the sun is shining, 
 Brightly this blessed morn; 
 
 'Glinting the silv'ry snow flakes, 
 Crystals the earth adorn. 
 
 Happy is childhood's dreaming, 
 Happily float through brain 
 
 Visions of Christmas morning, 
 Stories told o'er again. 
 
— 103 — 
 
 What of the bells whose clanging 
 Wakens the sleeper at morn? 
 
 What of the singing of anthems? 
 Christ this day was born. 
 
 Forth bring the golden censer, 
 
 Sing to the Father's praise; 
 God gave His choicest treasure, 
 
 That gave us Christmas days, 
 
 WHICH? 
 
 Dedicated to H. Blakeslee Boyden. Auntie Em's Song Leaves. Vol. II. 
 
 SET TO MUSIC AND COPYRIGHTED 1890. 
 
 ND shall it be cold water 
 
 We drink from stream or rill, 
 
 lE'er bringing joy thereafter, 
 With freedom and good will? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O, I will drink cold water, ■ 
 
 From sparkling brook or well. 
 And pledge to that my manhood, 
 
 Shun him who poisons sell. 
 
 Or shall it be the wine cup 
 
 Engrossing all the soul, 
 While leading ever downward, 
 
 To vice beyond control? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Yes, I will drink cold water, 
 
 Cold water pure and clear; 
 And cheer for that forever. 
 
 With courage not with fear. 
 
— 104 — 
 
 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 TO CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 SET TO MUSIC AND COPYRIGHTED 1895. AUNTIE EM'S SONGS. VOL. III. 
 
 Lii hail, bright day! we'll sing a lay 
 Replete with joy and gladness, 
 
 'We'll deck thy brow with spruce and bay 
 And feast away all sadness. 
 
 With crown of green, a sparkling sheen 
 
 Of berries red and yellow, 
 That brings out cheer in homely scene 
 
 From voices soft and mellow. 
 
 Thou vi'st with Spring, as bells do ring, 
 
 In warm and sunny weather; 
 No flakes of snow doth Boreas bring, 
 
 But tiny tears together. 
 
 If cold and clear, thou hast no peer, 
 
 For yule logs from the heather 
 Will burn and blaze and bring good cheer, 
 
 In spite of snowy feather. 
 
 Then hail, bright day! for aye, for aye, 
 
 We'll sing thy joys forever; 
 For He who in the manger lay 
 
 Brought life that naught can sever. 
 
 Then let us live and presents give 
 
 To those most sad and lonely 
 Who kindness need — a heavenly meed, . 
 
 Of acts and not — words only. 
 
— 105 — 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4. 
 
 CCPfRIGHTED 1890. AUNTIE EM'S SONQ LEAVES. VOL. M. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day. No. 1. 
 
 [hankful are we, dearest Father, 
 Mercies rich have been bestowed, 
 gFood and raiment we've had plenty. 
 Kindest hearts with love o'erflowed. 
 Teach us so to love our playmates 
 That all wrongs we'll over loolc; 
 Teach us to be kind and gentle. 
 
 Cruel anger never brook. 
 Then we'll truly feel more thankful, 
 
 That our hearts were taught Thy love, 
 And to feel we've caused another's 
 Heart to thank our God above. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day. No. 2. 
 
 ;o! to grandma's we are going, 
 Let us hasten, leave our play, 
 
 ■Yes, you knows she will be waiting 
 As it is Thanksgiving day. 
 See, the sun is brightly shining. 
 
 Melting old King Frost away. 
 Sending this his merry greeting. 
 
 So we'll have a happy day. 
 And we'll sing the same true story. 
 
 Handed down from olden time; 
 Just as grateful as the founders 
 
 Of the old IS'ew England line. 
 
— 106 — 
 
 Thanksgiving Day. No. 3. 
 
 ''LAKES of snow like whitest feather 
 Fell outside like wint'ry weather 
 
 jGrath'ring "round the frost killed glory, 
 Kesting lightly, chill and hoary. 
 
 Old King Frost gave winter entry, 
 E're the Indian Summer's sentry 
 
 Scarce had filled his timely measure. 
 Till was garnered ev'ry treasure. 
 
 Thankfulness was voiced in singing 
 Praise to God for gen'rous giving. 
 
 As were gathered those who loved us, 
 
 'Round the hearth, that day so wondrous. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day. No. 4. 
 
 :hill November I remember. 
 
 When the apple-strings hung high; 
 
 jNuts were plenty in the gran'ry, 
 Happy day for you and I. 
 
 Busy hands, bright eyes were gleaming 
 
 Over mince and pumpkin pie. 
 While the sav'ry turkey's steaming. 
 
 Thankful, happy hearts were nigh. 
 
 Boys and girls, our loved home circle, 
 
 Telling dreams of fairy land, 
 Wreathing parings name of lover, 
 
 Tru^- as letters writ in sand. 
 
lor 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 ACRED are the mem'ries ling'ring 
 |In my heart, of those held dear 
 Who have wandered o'er the river 
 
 Leaving me a vranderer here. 
 
 Wand'ring thro' the shadows, groping 
 
 For the light that seemeth near; 
 
 Struggling for the gilded chalice, 
 
 Finding but the briny tear. 
 
— lOS — 
 
 JESUS WEPT. 
 
 ^As o'er the grave of Laz'rus bended He 
 j^In sorrow, grieving that he was no more. 
 J A Savior^s tears! Why should he sorrow so 
 Whose voice was in the winds He checked at will? 
 Who bade the waves be still while storms beat fierce 
 And lashed with furious roar the waters high 
 Who turned, at feast, the water into wine 
 So rare, 'twere fit for angels 'lone to quaff, 
 Then revel in the glory of the King of Kings? 
 Who'd raised the widow's son and baffled Death 
 Once more? Who healed the sick, the erring ones 
 Drew in the path that leads to life and light? 
 Tis not for tongue or pen to note all deeds 
 'This gentle, wondrous Son of God hath wrought, 
 This grandest prototype of man's estate. 
 This light that shines, by ages yet undimmed. 
 Then ask not thou, O, man, why Jesus wept. 
 'Twas but His gentle manhood wept, while thro' 
 His soul came surging from the Throne above, 
 ^^I dwell in Thee and Thou in Me; say Thou — 
 Move 'way the stones! Call forth Thy friend to life!" 
 Then Jesus lifted up His voice and said: 
 ^^I thank Thee, Father, Thou hast heard me now." 
 And with loud voice He cried: — "Lazarus — 
 Come forth! "Then came he forth bound hand and foot 
 And Jesus said, "Loose him and let him go — 
 By this they know that Thou, 0, Father,sent 
 Me unto them, and see Thy glory too." 
 What pow^r, what love like this, can'st find in man? 
 
— 100 — 
 
 'Tis said He wept like other men, when waves 
 Of sorrow sweep the human soul and gone 
 Their treasures are — this Mo.n of sorrows wept. 
 Those sacred tears were wajmarks left behind, 
 Rare trophies of transcendent love that marked 
 The Impress of a higher life, above 
 All else. Life giving as the sun to earth, 
 Tho' at the grave where Laz'rus lay, He wept. 
 
 MY NIECE. 
 
 Mrs. EMMAATWOOD RICE. Died August, 12, 1890. 
 
 ^Hus do I remember Emma, 
 Flaxen hair and eyes of blue; 
 
 \Singing like the robin redbreast 
 Light of heart, so loving, true. 
 As the twilight dews were gath'ring, 
 
 Many, many years ago; 
 Lightly tripping, sweetly singing, 
 
 Emma came o'er clover blow. 
 'Neath the apple tree she bended, 
 
 (Little fairy sprite was she;) 
 Bending, standing on her tiptoe, 
 
 Kissed me thro' the fence with glee. 
 Now the echoes, echoes reach me. 
 
 Is it truth the message tells, 
 That the bride in death is sleeping 
 
 And I hear the tolling bells? 
 Shadows fallen 'round the hearth-stone. 
 
 Loving hearts are clothed in gloom; 
 Leaving lasting void and heartache, 
 
 Culled this flow'r while yet in bloom. 
 
— 110 — 
 
 MY FATHER. 
 
 Eld. DAVID BLAKESLEE. Died March 1, 1868. 
 
 ' qSeware the Ides of March. " These fateful words 
 iSo long ago were uttered that now heard 
 'Seem empty, vague. The warning words of mind 
 So ancient that the zest of meaning is 
 As misty vapor to the bursting cloud. 
 Yet, thou, O, March ! did'st speed Death's message tV.us 
 To blight the last remaining hope that bound 
 The heart of man to earth, and all its charms. 
 Of snow and sleet (so cold and bleak the winds) 
 The fields were full; so deep, that scarce a man 
 Could trace a passage thro' the street; and yet, 
 O, fiercest winds of March, to Father's door 
 Thou bor'st the shaft of Death so dread. The guest 
 Unbidden entered, said: "The Master's called! 
 Make haste, thy mission here's fulfilled, complete; 
 The talent given thee, thou hast increased 
 An hundred fold. Thy pure and noble life 
 Unstained. Make ready for the feast, for thou 
 His guest shall be forevermore." "Just as 
 Thou wilt, O, God!" the answer came, "Thou hast 
 My table spread before, with blessings rich 
 And rare; mine arm upheld when oft I've borne 
 Earth's trials sore. Thy grace sustained my soul 
 When sinking, till on Pisgah's top I felt 
 Uplifted. Thou my Guide, did'st feed 
 Me with Thy love. Indulgent Father, Thou! 
 Just as I am come I to Thee — my all. 
 Ayl life is sweet, but oh, to look beyond! 
 
— Ill — 
 
 To be with Christ is sweeter far — to drink 
 That cup of bliss 'twould fill the soul with joy 
 Till lips would praise and never thirst for more." 
 The Storm King raged; all hedged about with snow, 
 Death found his mark and laid my Father low; 
 His voice was stilled — no counsel more could give, 
 No more expound the Word and point the way; 
 But, oh, the impress of his words so fraught 
 With justice, goodness, — noble, loving thought, 
 Can never be erased from out my mind. 
 But live like letters wrought of finest gold 
 That bears the heat of furnace, sevenfold. 
 
 MY SISTER. 
 
 Mrs. Mary A. Blakeslee Stilwell. Died Oct. 3, 1895, 
 
 ND so my sister's dead; gone, gone from earth, 
 Dead to the world; laid by her task, her hopes, 
 ^giFor an eternal rest. Has safely passed 
 The mist that hung in folds with shadows dense, 
 To rest with God forever, evermore. 
 Tho' bent and bowed with grief she traveled long 
 Alone the rugged path of life, sustained 
 By His great love, His words, "Abide in me." 
 With gift of talents rare, she found rich fields 
 In classic lore, the beautiful in art, 
 Till ev'ning came with sunset glow — the knock 
 Of Death whose breath was like the frosted snow 
 On rip'ning grain, or flowers of Autumn's blow; 
 Then passed she thro' the valley, led unseen 
 O'er rock-rift banks, and sailed beyond our ken. 
 
— 112 — 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 RUTH WOOD BLAKESLEE. Oct. U, 1872. 
 
 jCTOBER days, how sad the lays 
 
 That murmur through the dying leaves 
 
 And tell us of departing days, 
 
 The harvest home of ripened sheaves. 
 
 The heart is tuned in minor key 
 
 By its sad notes of minstrelsy, 
 And yet, we know we're nearer thee 
 
 And all who've solved the mystery. 
 
 October day so calm, so still. 
 My mother's spirit passed away. 
 
 The summons ready to fulfil. 
 It entered realms of endless day. 
 
 That spirit bright went home above 
 Where naught of sorrow e'er is known, 
 
 But all is joy and peace and love 
 Amid the angels 'round the throne. 
 
 So worthy, true, my dearest friend. 
 How can they be but sad to me 
 
 October days, till life shall end. 
 Reminders of my losing thee. 
 
 I miss thy counsel, tender care, 
 
 I miss thy loving, fond embrace; 
 I miss the music, voiced so rare, 
 
 As FLOW'RS THE SUN, I MISS THY FACE. 
 
— 113 — 
 
 Thy genius rare as costliest gem, 
 Thy virtues all of sterling worth 
 
 Shine yet, a living theorem 
 As when thou graced the fireside hearth. 
 
 O, Mother, mine! how oft I've thought • 
 Could I but solve Death's secret clear 
 
 I'd fly to thee nor stop for aught 
 That intervenes thro' darkness here. 
 
 EDWARD B. BOYDEN. 
 
 Died Oct. 22, 1858. 
 
 ^UT among the daisies 
 Where I watch in vain. 
 
 Lies our darling baby 
 Fast asleep again. 
 
 Sleep that knows no waking, 
 
 Eyelids sealed down 
 By Death's cold icy fingers 
 
 Ere he placed the crown. 
 
 Fast the falling shadows 
 Gather 'round his grave. 
 
 Low the daisies drooping 
 Drops of dew they crave. 
 
 Stars are constant watchers 
 Twinkling from above 
 
 Casting longing glances 
 For the captive dove. 
 
— lU — 
 
 To MY SISTER. 
 
 JEANNETTE. Jan. 15, 1890. 
 
 ISTER, in thy darkened chamber, 
 Come the rays of light divine, 
 
 'See how cheering, free from danger, 
 Guiding thee along the line. 
 
 In thy anguish see the Master 
 
 Holding up His pierced hand; 
 He, too, suffered much disaster. 
 
 With the crown at His command. 
 
 Cheer thee up, O, suff'ring sister, 
 God's right hand supports thee still; 
 
 Though thy cup may seem too bitter 
 Faith will tell thee 'tis His will. 
 
 MY SISTER. 
 
 Jeannette. Jan. 27, 1890. 
 
 "^ife's fitful fever" o'er, thou hast lain down 
 •To rest, like leaves of Autumn, drooped and died. 
 JThetime of rip'ning came, but, oh, too soon! 
 For clinging tendrils, loving thoughts were twined 
 From heart to heart; and, oh, how great the pain. 
 As Death's relentless grasp did part in twain 
 Those tender ties! Thy life of quiet peace. 
 Of kindest deeds, so ready to retrieve a wrong 
 Lest "bruised reed" might break and fall 
 That made it beautiful to thee — to all. 
 
— 115 — 
 
 TO MY COUSIN. 
 
 LEANDER S. WOOD. Died April 26, 1895. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, with God to rest 
 Thou'st entered in the glow; 
 
 ■The Master called thee as His guest 
 To heav'nly glories know. 
 
 Aye! in the land of light and love 
 
 You'll face the Triune Chief; 
 You'll sing with the redeemed above. 
 
 While we are bowed with grief. 
 
 Sing on, loved friend, we'll bear the pain 
 
 That rends our hearts so sore; 
 Death's harvest is eternal gain, 
 
 Thou'st only gone before. 
 
 TO MRS. C. 
 
 Feb. 17, 1897. 
 
 [HEY'RE passing, passing one by one. 
 
 All thro' the silent night; 
 ; They 're wand'ring toward the setting sun 
 
 Then fading from our sight. 
 
 Now he beholds his Father's face 
 
 All glorious with light. 
 Although the mist between apace 
 
 Did hide him in his flight. 
 
— 116 — 
 
 Pray ! lift thine eyes and murmur not, 
 
 'Tis God's all wise decree; 
 This summons is the common lot 
 
 Of all on earth that be. 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 
 
 Memorial Bymn, Tune:— ",S7te rests in God." 
 
 COPYRIGHTED MAY, 4, 1897. AUNTIE EM'S SONGS FOR CHILDREN, VOL. III. 
 
 |OLL softly, toll, ye muffled bells, 
 The sad low peal the story tells, 
 As morning breaks Memorial Day 
 How Lincoln passed from earth away. 
 
 Unflinching faith, untiring heart, 
 Wrought out the sequel of his part; 
 With one broad stroke he broke the bands 
 That held enslaved a Nation's hands. 
 
 A noble man of simple way, 
 Who bravely dared his part to play, 
 To aim for justice, right 'gainst wrong, 
 The 'potent charm in Freedom's song. 
 
 Sing low the dirge, in mem'ry keep 
 This martyr's creed of concepts deep. 
 Sing praise to God, while breezes fan ^^'' 
 The laurel o'er an honest man. 
 
 Loud peal, ye bells, our Nation's free 
 From dark'ning stains of slavery; 
 All sing for joy — heal wounds 'twere made 
 In hearts upon the altar laid. 
 
— 117 — 
 THOMAS HOPE. 
 
 r 
 
 Died September, 1, 1SS9. 
 
 ?AY flowers, lair flowers, on our dear young friend's 
 grave, 
 
 )Where grasses will grow and the willow will wave; 
 Bring lilies as pure as the soul that has flown 
 To heavenly mansions — the dear Savior's throne. 
 
 He built him a nest and he chose him a mate. 
 The brightest of sunshine e'er played with their fate; 
 When lo! One has beckoned him far from its door, 
 The Master has called with His boat on the shore. , 
 
 He answered the call and his mate sits alone, ,(, 
 With saddest of hearts, her great loss to bemoan. , 
 This summons from heav'n, 'tis so hard, it is owned, 
 To thank the dear Lord for the tim^, he was loaned. 
 
 Then murmur not, heart, for the rod and the gloom, 
 O, say not, why cuttest the wheat when in bloom? 
 A record so pure, showing ripeness of soul. 
 Is fitness for glory — the heavenly goal. 
 
 [HE birds their matin sang 
 And thro' the woods it rang 
 High unto heav'n, 
 
— 118 — 
 
 And Night her curtain drew 
 Till morning light shown thro' 
 Tinging a grave 
 
 Where silence reigned supreme 
 Save winds, wild wailing theme — 
 A requiem sad. 
 
 ECHO 
 
 From the life-work of Miss Frances WUlard. Feb. 22, 1898. 
 
 |EAR Father, I have worked in vineyards where 
 The thorns were thick, and fields seemed barren, 
 poor. 
 
 And yet, at times, light shone, the yield was good 
 For Thy kind hand did'st guide and lead me on. 
 I sought to teach the tempted how to live — 
 To worship Thee — be pure in thought and deed. 
 Of Thee I oft, in supplication, sought 
 My heart's desire for ^^Home and Native Land," 
 And asked Thy aid in leading wayward ones 
 To nobler lives, misguided by the glow 
 Of wine-cup leading down to ruin, woe. 
 I asked of Thee to give them strength to rise 
 From 'neath temptation's thrall, to live pure lives; 
 And Thou, O, Father, gavest ear and clothed 
 My speech aright. Thou strengthened weary ones. 
 Most High, Most Holy One, my bark was frail 
 And lo! it's stranded on the shores of Time; 
 Stretch out Thine hand, receive thy fainting child. 
 
— 119 — 
 Tribute To 
 
 Gen. Wm. T. SHERMAN. 
 
 Died Feb. 15, 1S91. 
 
 T half-mast floats our flag to-day 
 And grief in many hearts holds sway; 
 )A soldier — comrade's name's enrolled 
 Among the dead for time untold. 
 
 Paroled that he might enter rest, 
 
 The barrack's framed for soldier guest; 
 
 The bugle call will stir no more 
 
 The heart that now has crossed the shore. 
 
 Who'll e'er forget his march to sea 
 His noble charge — "A^o forage heV 
 The crown he won with sparkling gem 
 Will glisten still, — his diadem. 
 
 Yet, wide the waste, loved homes destroyed 
 As marched he on with hope that buoyed; 
 While honor, vicVry, crowned him grand, 
 He left hut sadness thro^ the land. 
 
 His sword is sheathed, the battle won; 
 His fame will live, tho' life is done; 
 Tattoo then beat — as Sherman rests 
 From wars and cares 'mid comrade gfuests. 
 
 Then fold the flag he loved so well 
 Around the Brave^ who nobly fell 
 When Death the matchless Gen'ral came 
 And lured from earth his peerless game. 
 
— 120 — 
 
 The last call sound, O, soldier, now 
 O'er fallen comrade's laureled brow: 
 Consign to earth the mortal frame 
 The spirit lives, so does his Fame. 
 
 MR. EDWARD NORTON. 
 
 (Editor Madison Observer.) 
 Died at Morrisville, N. Y. Nov. 19, 1893. 
 
 ^VER the breakers at last, old friend, 
 
 Into the mystic sea; 
 Far from the sorrows of mortal life 
 
 Changeless thy portion be. 
 
 Gentle and pure was thy peerless life, 
 Honor thy breast-plate wore; 
 
 Never a trace that would mark disgrace, 
 Looking thy life-work o'er. 
 
 Gold is e'er tried in refining fire, 
 Well hast thou passed the test. 
 
 Ready to yield to the icy shield 
 Gently takest thy rest. 
 
 Pleading, we'd asked a longer stay 
 Here where thy home has been, 
 
 Stay of the shaft the winds never waft. 
 Death never enter in. 
 
 Peacefully rest and farewell, farewell. 
 Crowned in the house of God; 
 
 Sit at His feet with thy joys complete, 
 The tenement under the sod. 
 
— 121 — 
 
 GEORGE DYE. 
 
 Died Feb. 5, 1892. 
 
 {Bead at his funeral.) 
 
 "Jam not afraid to die.''^ 
 
 [Hus spake this noble youth, as waited he 
 The Master's call to solve the mysteries 
 Beyond the sea of life. Like unto wheat 
 Of choicest mold that's kept for seeding time 
 Was garnered he, to grow in richer soil; 
 To rise in Christ, renewed and glorified. 
 Frail bark! thou'st reached thy moorings ere thy sun 
 Attained its noonday glow, — whilst thou wert yet 
 Unsullied by the mazy whirl of life's 
 Deep soundings. Yet for thee to die was gain. 
 Could but thy noble life be scanned by men 
 Who're on the downward way; what longings must 
 Be theirs, to merit, wear a crown like thine 
 Immortal; say, from out the depths of soul, 
 Like unto thee: — "I'm not afraid to die." 
 
 .OWERS scatter, fresh to-day, 
 |>0'er his form of lifeless clay; 
 ^Close thine eyes, in vision see 
 Spirit clothed in purity. 
 
 He is now in heav'n a guest 
 'Mid the meek and lowly blest; 
 See, he basks in God's own rays, 
 Dwells with Him thro' endless days. 
 
— 122 — 
 
 APOSTROPHE 
 
 TO LORD ALFRED TENNYSON. Died September, 8, 1892. 
 
 [Hou who wert crowned with laurels — rich in years; 
 So proud, exclusive, knowing well that thou 
 gThe summit reached would fear not wind nor tide 
 Below, if either one were false or true. 
 Thou from those heights sent broadcast songs of worth 
 And they were gathered gladly — manna sweet, 
 For future food. But lo! the subtle fiend 
 ('Twas he whom we call Death) hath found that he 
 Hath power to clip thy wings, and bring thee down 
 As all, to couch of pain — to dreamless sleep. 
 Could'he have envied thee thy joy? thy home? 
 Thy Aldworth home with wife and loved ones near? 
 That, stealing in, he breathed his subtle breath 
 Toward thee and laid thee down to die with songs 
 Unsung — crushed flow'rs of thought thou might'st 
 
 have penned. 
 Now, darkness gathers thick and dense o'er all; 
 Thy mantle's fallen, where? on whom thy gift 
 Of song? what priceless heritage 'twould be! 
 Most favored Poet Prince, 'twas thine to drink 
 From cup of gold, filled full to brim, the wine, 
 The nectar of renown, ere night drew near 
 To thee with deathly pall, so rich thy field 
 Of vision was, the yield was good, was great. 
 Its fruitage scattered o'er the world, a feast 
 To find. How could the answer back but bring 
 Thee joy and peace, with naught of shadow near! 
 The legacy bestowed we'll treasure long 
 And grieve thou art no more. 
 
— 123 — 
 
 MY COUSIN. 
 
 FRANKLIN M. NORTON. JXed June, 9, 1893. 
 
 , VER the shoals of Time, dear friend, 
 
 fThe shadowy valley passed; 
 
 Thy form lieth low, 
 Thy spirit we know 
 Is at rest, 
 
 Keplete in thy glorified end. 
 Oh, for a glance at thy joyful face 
 So free from all care and pain; 
 To once grasp thy hand 
 As thou dwell'st in that land 
 Well assured 
 Of a place — a meet bidden guest. 
 
 Rev. DAVID WILLIAMS. 
 
 Written for the Welsh Eisteddfod. 
 
 COPYRIGHTED DEC. 25, 1889. 
 
 SHEPHERD lieth down. God giveth His beloved 
 
 sleep — 
 
 .A sleep that knows no waking, save when He His 
 
 trump shall sound 
 
 To call the faithful home as maketh He His jewels up. 
 
 The scythe of Father Time spareth not high nor low, 
 
 as hies 
 He forth when Master calleth, ripened grain to gather 
 
 in. 
 The pleading wife, the loving child, the doting parent, 
 friend [zeal 
 
 So true, he heedeth not, but cutteth with relentless 
 
124 
 
 Our brightest, dearest, earthly treasures — ever gar- 
 
 n'ring in. 
 'Twas thu« this servant of the living God was drawn 
 
 and ta'en 
 From out this earthly fold to be with Christ, our 
 
 heav'nly King. 
 E'er faithful, true, a vessel of the great J ^m, this man 
 Of God proclaimed the truths of Holy Writ with fear- 
 less zeal 
 Unflinchingly. The darts from doubting minds fell 
 
 thick 
 And fast but God's protecting pow'r left not one 
 
 scar behind. 
 His years were numbered, full, completed his allotted 
 
 time; 
 The work all finished he was giVn to do, his Maker 
 
 called; 
 Then lightly from his shoulders fell his mantle, trust- 
 ing, full 
 Of hope, he entered into lasting rest — to be with 
 
 Christ. . ' 
 
 O, watchman, on those heavenly heights, can'st draw 
 
 aside the veil 
 The beatific vision. we may view? one glimpse of 
 
 heav'n 
 To ease these mourning souls, and there behold their 
 
 friend in robes 
 Of white, a crown of glory glitt'ring full of stars 
 
 well earned. 
 "While those bereft submissively ascribe, Thy will be 
 
 done. 
 
125 
 
 How beautiful the feet, 'tis said, of those who travel 
 
 o'er 
 God's holy 'Eill witli songs of Zion on their tongues, 
 
 praise evermore. 
 The cycling ages roll ne'er changing laws divinely 
 
 made 
 By Heav'hly Will. ^^^Tis not in man that walketh'^ here 
 
 qn this 
 Terrestrial globe, the pow'r to guide, forestall, direct, 
 
 or stay 
 The path marked out for all. If 'twere not so how soo7i 
 
 we'd bar 
 Grim Death outside our door, while friends remained 
 
 within with life 
 And joyous hearts, no longer sad, submerged all our 
 
 fears! 
 O, restless mortals! knowest thou what thus thou'dst 
 
 castaway? 
 All hope'depart for higher, brighter glories, wisely 
 
 planned? 
 Let spirit answer spirit, soul with soul commune. 
 
 Look down 
 O, watchman, on these stricken friends and tell them 
 
 of the home J r 
 
 Above, the city of the King of Peace — its jaspeSr walls. 
 Its golden streets, the light of heav'nly glories yet 
 
 unseen. ^ ' 
 
 Dark grave^ so cruel! hiding thou the lovihg form 
 
 of him 
 Whose life was fraught with kindness, virtues rare, 
 
 one prized by all. ^ 
 
— 126 — 
 
 O, hear! and open thou thy portals wide that he may 
 
 rise 
 Renewed, his vision cleared of all but Christ our Lord. 
 Gird on his armor new, that he may tell of joys all 
 
 full 
 Of love Divine, the glories of the new Jerusalem, 
 The joy to be with Christ in house not made with 
 
 hands and sing 
 The beauteous songs that angels sing around the sa- 
 cred throne 
 *Of King immortal. Yea, a King once crowned with 
 
 piercing thorns 
 Whose bleeding side dismayed accusers vile. Ah , me ! 
 
 our Lord. 
 Could aught else be his theme? Redeeming love for 
 
 sheep who'd gone 
 Astray, to win them back to pastures green, to cheer 
 
 them on 
 O'er Jordan's stream and guide them safely to their 
 
 heav'nly home. 
 Methinks I hear Him say, "The feast is ever ready, 
 
 come 
 And eat." The limpid stream of God's pure love 
 
 e'er floweth on 
 And all is tranquil as a summer's day. List, list, O, 
 
 list! 
 My earthly friends, and cease thy mourning sad, the 
 
 still small voice 
 E'er speaketh words of love and comfort too. "Lo! 
 
 I am with 
 You." Hear His voice. Such treasures rare, you 
 
 ne'er beheld as wait 
 
— 127 — 
 
 For those whose lives are pure, all free from taint, 
 
 in order set 
 Their house, for lo! when Bridegroom comes He wait- 
 
 eth not for them. 
 His bride is pure, of lily whiteness is her soul, of such 
 The Father saith, "I've need of thee," and calleth 
 
 home. 
 
 The Mansion grand's Hisheart,so broad, so deep, there's 
 
 room for all. 
 The Tree of Life, with branches whoWs the fountain 
 
 head of life 
 Divine, full and complete at Death's last call. Yea, 
 
 treasures in 
 That Mansion of the blest, the half the joys can 
 
 ne'er be told 
 By mortal tongue, nor pen describe the brightness 
 
 of the home 
 Where dwelleth saints with Christ the Lord, all 
 
 THREE IN One. 
 
 EVE OF LIFE. 
 
 i HADES of eve are slowly gath'ring, 
 
 Fading is the sunset glow; 
 [Leaves of life we silent ponder. 
 
 Viewing what our records show. 
 
 When the harvest nears the reaping 
 
 Idly stands — fruition's won; 
 So the Savior's sheaves stand ready, 
 
 Death hies hither — work is done. 
 
Some of the Publications of 
 
 Mrs. EMILY M. BIvAKESLEE BOYDEN. 
 
 "Atjntie Em/' 
 
 Little Ruth, the Toothache Girl. A true story 
 for children. Price 25c. 
 
 A tiny volume, telling the pretty story of a little girl in Rev- 
 olutionary times, and tracing her future life until she became a 
 grandmother. Although written for children, we think older people 
 will find it more interesting.— C7izcaj7o Advance. 
 
 The story in this diminutive book is a true one, and its telling 
 has a certain ring of truth and sincerity in it. Little Ruth married 
 a noble young minister, and their life together was a record of chris- 
 tian activity and devotion. The book is a simple and wholesome 
 one^ suited to child readers.— C/iicof/o Standard. 
 
 Auntie Em*s **Songs" and "Song Leaves" for 
 
 children, Vols. I, II, III, 25c each. Well adapted for 
 home or school. 
 
 Christo Colombo In Perspective. (Chorus) 25c. 
 
 The Patriot's Refrain. (In two keys) 5 and 10c each. 
 
 Dream On, But Dream of Me. (Quartette) 30c. 
 
 Jack Frost's Choice. (Quartette) 10c. 
 
 The Hero of Manila. 5c. 
 
 Behold the Stars of Night! (Christmas Anthem) 10c. 
 
 Intermittent Thoughts. (Poems) $1.00. 
 
 UNION PUBLISHING CO., 
 
 864 North Halsted St., Chicago, 111. 
 
-,«»' 
 
 
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