Class P_Si:^sx<^ 
 
 Book S^?>5 'S% 
 
 Coipght N" 2* '^ 
 
 1 
 
 COPYRIGHT UEPOSrr 
 
SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 THE O' BYRNES 
 
 If orchids please your eye the best, 
 Go seek them where you will; 
 
 But we prefer to go in quest 
 Of daisies on the hill. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 The Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate 
 Heart of Mary 
 
 St. Cecilia Academy, Scranton, Pennsylvania 
 
 TH8 ANTHRACITE PRESS, SCRANTON, PA. 
 

 n"*^ 
 
 Affectionately dedicated 
 to 
 
 Therese 
 
 'The Little Flower of Jesus" 
 
 /a. 
 
 tr» 
 
 Copyritiht 1914 
 
 by 
 
 The Sisters, Servants of the 
 
 Immaculate Heart of Mary 
 
 OEC 28 1914 
 
 'GI.A8889G7 
 

 FOREWORD 
 
 To those who prize the mountain brook. 
 
 The forest and the field. 
 We trust this guileless little book 
 
 Some minor joys may yield. 
 Thank God, we do not seek to please 
 
 The worldling nor the sages — 
 No message is there here for these, 
 
 But if among these pages 
 There lurks a single, homely thought 
 
 That draws to Heaven one heart, 
 We have attained the end we sought — 
 
 Our pen has done its part. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Susquehanna ------------ 7 
 
 Pope Pius X ----------- 14 
 
 Jubilee Ode ------------- 15 
 
 At Old Lakeside ----------- 17 
 
 St. Rose of Lima ----------- 18 
 
 Dav Dreams ------------19 
 
 The Glories of Erin ---------- 21 
 
 The Promise ------- ----- 22 
 
 St. Cecilia's ------------ 23 
 
 Middletown ------------ 24 
 
 Scranton Grows -----------25 
 
 Gethsemani ------------ 26 
 
 The Old Back Porch --------- 27 
 
 Castletown ------------ 28 
 
 The Irish Peasant's Mother ------- 29 
 
 St. Joseph, Be Thou My Friend ----- 31 
 
 The First Communicants - - - ----- 32 
 
 At Mount Saint Mary's -------- 34 
 
 Lady of Light ----------- 35 
 
 The Fountain Pen ---------- 36 
 
 Tabby's Triumph ---------- 38 
 
 KathhMMi ------------- 40 
 
SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Not the River Susquehanna, 
 
 Though it is a splendid stream, 
 Not the most inspiring region 
 
 Forms the subject of my theme ; 
 But, tonight I sing the glories 
 
 Of a Redman, brave and young, 
 And no bard of greater hero 
 
 Than my hero e 'er has sung. 
 
 Susquehanna was just twenty, 
 
 Tall and slender as a maid. 
 When the English settlers met him 
 
 In the silent forest shade. 
 There were many of the English, 
 
 Susquehanna stood alone; 
 Calm and dignified he faced them 
 
 Like a statue carved in stone. 
 
 Eloquently he addressed them 
 In the Susquehanna tongue, 
 
 Never had a voice more thrilling- 
 Through the ancient forest rung: 
 
 ''Englishmen, I do not fear you! 
 But the Paleface well may fear, 
 
 Who has robbed us of our birthright — 
 Crushed the hopes our hearts held dear. 
 
SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 All too yielding, the Patuxents 
 
 Have been crowded to the West, 
 But this Susquehanna never 
 
 Will give up the haunts loved best. 
 Yonder in her grave lies Willow, 
 
 She who was my faithful bride; 
 'When a Paleface killed her sire, 
 
 Then his noble daughter died. 
 
 Heartless and dishonest cowards, 
 
 I despise you and your skill ! 
 Shoot me if you feel inclined to, — 
 
 You can do far worse than kill.^^ 
 Only one of all the settlers 
 
 Understood what had been said. 
 And e^er he could form an answer, 
 
 Susquehanna turned and fled. 
 
 Often after that they met him 
 
 Wandering through the sombre glade, 
 But he passed them by unnoticed, 
 
 And they passed him half afraid. 
 Little could they learn about him, — 
 
 Who he was, or whence he came ; 
 So they called him Susquehanna, 
 
 And the English feared that name. 
 
 Undisturbed that long bright autumn. 
 
 This strange brave was wont to roam 
 Through the wooded hills and valleys 
 
 That had been his father's home. 
 Ann, the wife of one young settler, 
 
 Pitied, as a woman will, 
 Him who mourned where Willow rested 
 
 'Neath the fir tree on the hill. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Many times she strewed fair flowers 
 
 'er the grave, and knelt in prayer, 
 Asking God to bless and comfort 
 
 Him who mourned so often there. 
 Later on, when regal winter 
 
 Spread his ermine o'er the land. 
 Still the grave bore fadeless garlands, 
 
 Fashioned by Ann Stirling's hand. 
 
 Stirling never was a coward. 
 
 Still his heart grew cold with dread, 
 When he saw his fair wife venture 
 
 Where the Redman mourned his dead. 
 But he spoke no word of warning, 
 
 Lest he should awaken fear 
 In a spirit so unselfish 
 
 That it deemed no danger near. 
 
 All went well throughout the winter; 
 
 Though the snow spread o'er the land 
 Game was plentiful, and fuel 
 
 Of the best was near at hand. 
 All went well until the spring-tide 
 
 When the sun had reached the line. 
 And a wild storm stirred the weather 
 
 That for weeks had been so fine. 
 
 Stirling then received a summons, 
 
 One that would not brook delay, — 
 He was needed by a neighbor. 
 
 Up the stream ten miles away. 
 Death had come to that sad household. 
 
 And their friends were far and few: 
 He must go ; but oh ! he could not 
 
 Take his wife and infant, too. 
 
10 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Ann, the noble soul, assured him 
 
 She was not afraid to stay; 
 God and Mary would protect them, 
 
 So the settler tramped away. 
 Tramped across the melting snow-banks. 
 
 Through the rain descending fast, 
 And he met young Susquehanna 
 
 E 'er the first long mile was past. 
 
 Was it mere imagination. 
 
 Or did that dark, piercing eye 
 Flash a searching glance upon him 
 
 As they passed each other by? 
 Vengeance is the Redman's motto. 
 
 Love is swift to take alarm. 
 ^'God of Peace, protect my dear ones! 
 
 Shelter them from every harm.'' 
 
 With fear clutching at his heartstrings, 
 
 Thus he prayed as on he went 
 Up the trail, so damp and dismal, 
 
 On his kindly mission bent. 
 And the sweet wife in the cabin 
 
 Knelt beside the pine wood bed, 
 Where her precious child lay sleeping, 
 
 And her Rosary calmly said. 
 
 Hor belief in God's protection 
 
 Banished every trace of fear, 
 And her heart was bright and hopeful, 
 
 Though the world without was drear. 
 Wlien the dark, dull day had faded 
 
 To a darker, duller night. 
 Still undaunted that brave woman 
 
 Prayed before the loc: fire bright. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS U 
 
 Prayed, but with no thought of danger, 
 
 Till the door was opened wide, 
 And a tall form clad in deerskin, 
 
 Drenched with water, stepped inside. 
 Ann, instinctively drew backward. 
 
 Back to where her infant slept, 
 And her heart began to flutter 
 
 As the figure nearer stepped. 
 
 Silently young Susquehanna 
 
 Gazed upon the sleeper there. 
 Then he stooped and passed his fingers 
 
 Through the curls of golden hair. 
 Motionless with fear, the mother 
 
 Stood beside her helpless child, 
 Till the Redman turned and faced her, 
 
 And to her amazement, smiled; 
 
 Then respectfully in English 
 
 Slowly said: ^^ Be not afraid; 
 I am here tonight in friendship, — 
 
 Here to offer you my aid. 
 All my knowledge of their language 
 
 From the English I concealed, 
 For revengeful plots I harbored 
 
 That shall never be revealed. 
 
 When I saw you carry flowers 
 
 To my poor dead Flower's grave, 
 Then my heart grew warm, recalling 
 
 How completely she forgave. 
 Yes, my sweet wife was a Christian 
 
 Who for Christ's sake could forgive; 
 But for her, no bold usurper 
 
 On this fair domain dare live. 
 
13 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 I too loved the gentle Blackrobe, 
 
 Though I relished not his Creed; 
 It was he who taught me English, — 
 
 Taught me both to speak and read. 
 Though ungracious to the Frenchmen, 
 
 Our stern Sachem liked this Celt. 
 Hard he worked among my people 
 
 And his influence was felt. 
 
 But, 'tis rash to tarry longer. 
 
 You are my dead Willow's friend, 
 And you must accept the succor 
 
 Which for her sake I extend. 
 Since your husband left this morning, 
 
 Several streams have overflowed; 
 And the flood will soon roll downward, 
 
 Sweeping all things in its road. 
 
 Here, in less than half an hour, 
 
 All may be a raging sea; 
 Would you save your child from peril- 
 
 And yourself? Then follow me. 
 I can lead you to a shelter 
 
 'Neath the fir trees on the hill. 
 Will you trust me to protect you?" 
 
 **In God's name," she said, *'I will. 
 
 Then she wrapped the tender infant 
 
 In its little blanket warm, 
 And she followed Susquehanna 
 
 Out into the wild, wet storm. 
 Silently they crossed the fallow. 
 
 Labored up the steep ascent. 
 Till near Willow's grave he halted 
 
 At a little storm-proof tent. 
 
 M 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 18 
 
 Here upon a couch of deer-skin 
 
 All night long the baby slept, 
 Here the mother knelt beside him 
 
 And her prayerful vigil kept; 
 While adown the swollen torrent 
 
 Susquehanna's bark canoe, 
 Through the blinding rain and darkness, 
 
 Like a warning angel flew. 
 
 Well it was that night for many 
 
 That the warning came in time; 
 ^^Fly at once, the flood is coming! 
 
 To the nearest highland climb!'* 
 Many times in grateful accents 
 
 Was our worthy hero blessed, 
 E 'er the morning sun ascended 
 
 And the wild wind sank to rest ; 
 
 For the settlers, from the hillsides 
 
 Saw beneath them in the glen, 
 One broad waste of surging waters 
 
 Where their log homes erst had been. 
 Susquehanna stayed among them 
 
 Till these homes were all remade ; 
 Never was there greater honor 
 
 To a worthy Sachem paid 
 
 Than they offered him who helped them 
 
 In their hour of direst need; 
 But to all their demonstrations 
 
 Susquehanna paid no heed. 
 Later on his conscience bade him 
 
 Once again seek out his own. 
 That he might make Christ's sweet message 
 
 To the Pagans better known ; — 
 
14 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Then they brought him gold and jewels, 
 
 But he left their treasures there; 
 All he asked for was a ringlet 
 
 Of the baby^s golden hair. 
 Many tearful eyes looked on him 
 
 As he passed adown the glen ; 
 And the English settlers never 
 
 Saw their noble friend again. 
 
 ^ 
 
 POPE PIUS X 
 
 While jealous kings were conning war^s dark art, 
 Were seeking their dominions to increase, 
 A strong appeal for universal peace 
 
 Burst from the dying Pontiff's noble heart. 
 
 Oppressed by rumors of a world-wide mart, 
 A gory strife for which few sought surcease, 
 He gladly welcomed that which could release 
 
 His strong yet tender spirit from this smart. 
 
 The people's Pope he was, — the poor man's 
 friend ; 
 Now warring nations in their grief unite 
 To honor him whose great warm heart they 
 broke ; 
 
 To Rome their poor, vain sympathies extend. 
 And monarclis, that appear almost contrite, 
 Tlio Martyred Pontiff's blessing now invoke. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS U 
 
 JUBILEE ODE 
 
 Our thoughts travel back o'er the lustrums today 
 
 To a rose-fragtant morn in July, 
 To witness a scene whereon angels and saints 
 
 In approval looked down from on High ; 
 For a young Levite stood in the glory of youth, 
 
 And renounced all the world had to give. 
 And vowed that henceforth for the cause of his King, 
 The Divine Nazarene, he would live. 
 
 His Captain had called him to come to the front, 
 
 And he cast every hindrance away ; 
 Though others protested, the brave soldier knew 
 
 That he could do naught but obey. 
 His worldly ambitions he buried that day, 
 
 And he shed not a tear o 'er their grave ; 
 His wealth and his honor henceforth he would count 
 
 By the number of souls he could save. 
 
 The awe and the sweetness of that solemn hour 
 
 Were mingled with fiery zeal 
 And confident trust, such as only the heart 
 
 Of the fearless and humble can feel. 
 The zeal has not cooled by the sharp wind of time, 
 
 The trust is more perfect today. 
 The sweetness that reigned in the young Levite 'a 
 heart 
 
 Has never been wafted away. 
 
16 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Now silver bells ring for his glad Jubilee 
 
 A concert of triumph and praise; 
 O'er twenty-five years of whole-hearted work 
 
 In joyful thanksgiving we gaze. 
 The temples he raised in God's honor now stand 
 
 To witness he worked not in vain, 
 The warm, grateful love of the souls that he saved 
 
 Shall through aeons unending remain. 
 
 Joy throbs in the heart of old Friendsville today. 
 
 Aye, and Plymouth and Hawley rejoice; 
 The glad bells of Scranton are chiming aloud 
 
 Her triumph and glory to voice. 
 A God-sanctioned praise do we offer to him. 
 
 For only in Heaven is known 
 The wealth of the harvest that yet shall be reaped 
 
 From the soul-saving seed he has sown. 
 
 Today we unite in an earnest appeal 
 
 To the King he has honored so well, 
 That his future may equal the past in good works 
 
 And in peace and in joy may excel. 
 May he reap the reward of each brave sacrifice 
 
 He so cheerfully made in the past ; 
 May his merit increase till he reaches the court 
 
 Of his glorious Leader at last. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 17 
 
 AT OLD LAKESIDE 
 
 We spent one golden autumn day 
 
 At old Lakeside, 
 And all too soon it passed away 
 
 At old Lakeside ; 
 For when the heart is young and gay 
 The rosy hours will not delay: 
 In vain we sought their course to stay 
 At old Lakeside. 
 
 We stood to see the sun arise 
 
 At old Lakeside; 
 The east was tinged with gorgeous dyes 
 
 At old Lakeside; 
 You marked the glory of the skies, 
 And I, the glory of your eyes — 
 That both should fade was no surprise 
 
 At old Lakeside. 
 
 The trees were crowned with red and gold 
 
 At old Lakeside; 
 We noted not of death they told 
 
 At old Lakeside; 
 But as around the meer we strolled. 
 And up_ and down the bosky wold. 
 We joyed such splendor to behold 
 
 At old Lakeside. 
 
18 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Alas ! too soon the hours fled 
 
 At old Lakeside ; 
 The sun went down in clouds of red 
 
 At old Lakeside. 
 Though now the sky is dark as lead 
 And you are sleeping with the dead, 
 I still remember all you said 
 
 At old Lakeside. 
 
 Full well your words my heart has weighed 
 
 At old Lakeside, 
 And for your soul I oft have prayed 
 
 At old Lakeside. 
 Sweet thoughts of you must still pervade 
 My life — and oh ! with Heaven 's aid, 
 I'll keep the promise that I made 
 
 At old Lakeside. 
 
 SAINT ROSE OF LIMA 
 
 Light of America, pride of Peru ! 
 
 Blest be the land where this lovely Rose grew! 
 
 Never a flower bloomed fairer than thee. 
 
 Here in the wide, boasted land of the free. 
 
 Well may Peru still remember with pride 
 
 How Heaven's Monarch claimed thee as His bride. 
 
 Chosen by God as the Rose of His Heart, 
 Teach us, thy clients. Love's beautiful Art, — 
 Teach us to build in our hearts a pure throne, 
 Wliero this great Monarch may reign there alone ; 
 Teach us to love Him as thou didst, sweet Rose, — 
 Always to find in His Heart our repose. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 19 
 
 DAY DREAMS 
 
 In peaceful dreams I oft return 
 To where we used to gather fern 
 Beneath the pines near Choconut Burn, 
 In that long vanished summer-time 
 When old Lakeside was at its prime,— 
 The fairest spot in this fair clime. 
 
 In dreams I walk with him and her 
 Who to my heart the dearest were, 
 Who loved with me each sheltering fir, 
 Each sombre pine, and hemlock green 
 That o'er the tranquil waters lean 
 Imparting softness to the scene. 
 
 In dreams I see the hills that rise 
 
 'er Silver Lake blend with the skies 
 A wealth of rich autumnal dyes ; 
 
 1 see them clad in springtime 's best, 
 In summer's fair regalia dressed, 
 Then white with snow from foot to crest. 
 
 And oh ! so many times I dream 
 That I am wandering down the stream 
 Where golden rod and gentian gleam; 
 And pass the homes where many dwell 
 Who loved Saint Josephs long and well, 
 And of its charms still fondly tell. 
 
20 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Saint Josephs ! long its name shall last, 
 Far reached the glory that it cast 
 From that lone vale in days now past. 
 Its bards shall sing from age to age 
 Of every saint and every sage 
 Who wrote its name on history's page. 
 
 Eeluctantly do I awake 
 From reveries of Carmalt Lake, 
 Where robins sing among the brake. 
 And where the graceful locust trees. 
 The happy haunt of honey bees, 
 Sway playfully with every breeze. 
 
 In sweeter dreams I then return 
 
 To Friendsville School, once more to learn 
 
 The best in nature to discern, — 
 
 To Friendsville School where those I knew 
 
 Were so unselfish and so true, 
 
 Where everlasting friendship grew. 
 
 And then again I seem to hear 
 The music of a church bell clear — 
 No sweeter sound e'er thrilled my ear; 
 That old bell hangs no longer there, 
 But God remembers every prayer 
 We whispered in that shrine so fair. 
 
 And so it is I dream in turn 
 
 Of all I loved at Choconut Burn 
 
 Whore you and I wont gathering fern ; 
 
 And waking from those dreams, I pray 
 
 That all who como along that way 
 
 May pass tlirougli Tloavon 's gate some day. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 21 
 
 THE GLORIES OF ERIN 
 
 do not sing of Erin's wrongs — 
 
 You'll break my heart, and break your own, 
 But strike a more triumphant chord, 
 And sing the glories she has known ; 
 Sing of the days when she was queen, 
 When all the world revered the Green. 
 
 Aye, sing of centuries lon^ past 
 
 "When Erin's scholars were the best. 
 And Erin's bards were wont to sing 
 The sweetest songs in all the West ; 
 When Greece and Rome were dark as night, 
 Our verdant Isle gave out her light. 
 
 Mavourneen, strike a lighter chord. 
 
 Forget the wrongs, forget the pain; 
 Let harp and voice send forth tonight 
 A holy and a happy strain, 
 And praise the souls now sanctified. 
 Who for the faith of Erin died. 
 
 Erin's martyrs! Erin's saints! 
 
 With honest joy sing out their praise, 
 And bring no cypress here tonight, 
 
 We '11 crown the dear old land with bays ; 
 For well we know that Ireland's foes 
 Would rather hear of Ireland's woes. 
 
22 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Her roses bloomed among the thorns, 
 
 As all sweet scented roses do ; 
 God never hid His face throughout 
 The darkest dolor that she knew, 
 And now her passion tide is past, 
 Her Easter joy draws near at last. 
 
 Then do not sing of Erin's wrongs, — 
 
 'Tis more than hearts like ours can bear ; 
 Nor is it meet that we should sigh. 
 
 When hope's bright star is shining there; 
 Let not the gloom of grief long gone. 
 Bedim the glow of Freedom's dawn. 
 
 THE PROMISE 
 
 I didn't dust your dusty room, 
 Though you may think I should ; 
 
 I didn't air it even once — 
 I never said I would. 
 
 But what I said I'd do, I did, — 
 
 I always keep my word, — 
 And I agreed the day you left 
 
 To feed your little bird. 
 
 I didn't give your palms a drink, 
 
 Nor did I wind your clock ; 
 I didn't chase the boys who smashed 
 
 Your window with a rock. 
 
 But then I fed your little bird, 
 
 At least I did do that; 
 The very day you went away, 
 
 I fed him — to the cat. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 23 
 
 SAINT CECILIA'S 
 
 Sweet Saint Cecilia's, pride of all, 
 
 The heart of every child of thine 
 Shall still be true, whatever befall,^ 
 
 To thee on whom our hopes recline. 
 Our Alma Mater, fond and true, 
 
 To thee, to all we love, adieu ! 
 'Tis hard to part from friends so leal 
 
 Whose hearts are staunch in woe or weal. 
 
 The friendships formed in childhood days 
 
 Cannot be lightly cast aside ; 
 The trembling voice too well betrays 
 
 The growing grief we fain would hide. 
 Bedimmed with tears is every eye. 
 
 For few can smile and say Good-bye ! 
 And never parted friends more true 
 
 Than we who now repeat, Adieu! 
 
 Dear Alma Mater, thou hast taught 
 
 The lesson of sweet Hope so well. 
 That though we part in tears, the thought 
 
 Of coming joys shall grief dispel ; 
 For after life's long school is o'er, 
 
 We '11 meet again to part no more ; 
 The road divides today, but then, 
 
 In God's good time, we'll meet again. 
 
24 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 Dear Saint Cecilia's, we shall strive 
 
 Until the end to spread your creed, 
 The fainting spirit to revive, 
 
 And all to truth's pure fountain lead; 
 As thou didst give, we, too, shall give, 
 
 That other souls for God may live. 
 We go the ranks of Christ to swell — 
 
 Our Alma Mater, fare thee well! 
 
 MIDDLETOWN 
 
 No land so fair as thee, I deem. 
 Akin to Heaven thy beauties seem, 
 
 Middletown ; 
 And oh! how oft, how oft I dream 
 Of every meer and every stream 
 That in thy peaceful valleys gleam, 
 Middletown, my Middletown ! 
 
 I love the hemlock on thy hills, 
 I love the brake along thy rills, 
 
 Middletown ; 
 When spring the heart of Nature thrills 
 The music of thy whippo or wills 
 Each grove, and field, and forest fills, 
 Middletown, my Middletown! 
 
 And wherefore do I prize thee best. 
 Why find in thee the sweetest rest, 
 
 Middletown ; 
 Because to thee T go in quest 
 Of tliose my heart loves first and ])est. 
 Whose smiles would make Sahara blest, 
 Middletown, my Middletown! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 25 
 
 SCRANTON GROWS 
 
 In Lackawanna's fertile vale, 
 
 Scranton grows ; 
 Frnitf ul and fair and strong and hale, 
 
 Scranton grows; 
 Though knaves her honor may assail. 
 This thrifty tree shall never fail, 
 Though cold and fierce may blow the gale, 
 Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 
 
 Where Chief Capouse once cheered his braves, 
 
 Scranton grows ; 
 Above their long-forgotten graves, 
 
 Scranton grows; 
 Where Nay Aug still the mountain laves. 
 And Roaring Brook in rapture raves. 
 Where beauty's standard ever waves, 
 Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 
 
 Where modest Moosic Mountains rise, 
 
 Scranton grows; 
 Where Lackawanna laughs and sighs, 
 
 Scranton grows; 
 Her magic power no man denies. 
 And well do we, her children, prize 
 This tree that thrives and never dies — 
 Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 
 
 Above the listening anthracite, 
 
 Scranton grows ; 
 Crowned with her own electric light, 
 
 Scranton grows ; 
 
26 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 The foe of darkness, queen of night, 
 So fragrant, fair and pure and bright, 
 The pride of all who love the right, 
 
 Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 
 
 Where joy holds undisputed sway, 
 
 Scranton grows ; 
 Admired by all who pass this way, 
 
 Scranton grows ; 
 With fond and hopeful hearts we pray, 
 That she may never know decay; 
 For aeons may her children say, 
 
 *^ Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. '* 
 
 GETHSEMANI 
 
 Gethsemani, I love thy sad sweet name ; 
 
 The precious Blood that washed my sins away 
 Poured down in streams and sanctified thy clay. 
 
 Gethsemani, it was to thee He came 
 
 And agonized that He might hide my shame. 
 Yea, on the eve of His great Passion Day 
 He knelt beneath the olive shade to pray 
 
 That my poor, wayward soul He might reclaim. 
 
 More dear thou art by far than Tabor's height. 
 
 Sweet grove; thy silent shade best suited Him, 
 When, with my sins oppressed, He came that night 
 And prostrate prayed within thy shelter dim. 
 It was in thee His Passion was begun. 
 When bowing low He said, **Thy will be done.*' 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 27 
 
 THE OLD BACK PORCH 
 
 The old back porch was his favorite haunt, — 
 
 He told me the reason why: 
 It gave him a view of the distant hills 
 
 That rested his weary eye ; 
 It gave him a glimpse of the Carmalt Lake 
 
 That glistens among the trees; 
 The noisy throng never pass that way, 
 
 And there he could feel at ease. 
 
 The old back porch was his favorite haunt, 
 
 And my favorite haunt as well ; 
 For I enjoyed, as did no one else 
 
 The stories he used to tell. 
 Sweet were the hours we spent out there, 
 
 Our tryst in the twilight dim; 
 Sweet were the tales that he fondly told 
 
 Of days that were dear to him. 
 
 The old back porch was his favorite haunt. 
 
 The neighbors enjoyed it, too; 
 How many times on the steps they stood 
 
 And helped him praise the view. 
 They sadly pass by the back porch now, 
 
 And softly they breathe the prayer: 
 ^*God rest his soul!'' for, like me, they miss 
 
 The friendly old man out there. 
 
28 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 CASTLETOWN 
 
 How oft I heard him praise thy name, 
 
 Sweet Castletown; 
 How many times heard him proclaim 
 
 Thy wide renown! 
 But now the voice whose latest breath 
 Retold thy charms, is hushed in death, 
 The great warm heart that loved thee best 
 Enjoys at last unbroken rest. 
 
 Though thy fair haunts I have not seen, 
 
 Sweet Castletown! 
 I know thy every loch and stream. 
 
 And vale and down ; 
 For oh ! he painted them so well, — 
 The shady grove, thy sunny dell. 
 The pasture land, the cool green wood, — 
 And all to him were more than good. 
 
 How many times he prayed for thee, 
 
 Sweet Castletown! 
 From Aiden^s heights I trust that he 
 
 To-night looks down 
 Upon the scenes he loved to praise, 
 The scenes he knew in childhood days, 
 And pray that he may meet again 
 The friends who made him happy then. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 29 
 
 THE IRISH PEASANT'S MOTHER 
 
 Let others sing of whom they will, 
 
 Philanthropists or sages, 
 Of those whose names have been enrolled 
 
 On history's deathless pages; 
 Or sing of men whose noble deeds 
 
 Have never been recorded. 
 The hidden heroes whom proud fame, 
 
 As yet, has not rewarded. 
 To me one life, one heart, appeals 
 
 Far more than any other ; 
 Then let me sing of her tonight — 
 
 The Irish peasant's mother. 
 
 A tidy little woman she 
 
 Who bears the mark of labor ; 
 Her home-made gown outrivals not 
 
 The dress of any neighbor. 
 The soft white hair, hidden by 
 
 A snowy cap, enhances 
 The calmness of the face, and eyes 
 
 From which true kindness glances ; 
 An humble mien, though dignified, 
 
 A countenance portraying 
 Keen humor, sympathetic love, 
 
 And faith all else outweighing. 
 
 Each word she speaks seems half a prayer ; 
 
 She greets you with a blessing. 
 And welcomes e'en the poorest guest 
 
 In tones sweet and caressing. 
 
30 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 With hospitality unfeigned, 
 
 She proves that her great pleasure 
 Is Martha-like, that she delights 
 
 In giving without measure. 
 Well may her heart be filled with joy 
 
 That makes this life worth living, 
 A joy that seems to be increased 
 
 By this excess in giving. 
 
 Both competent and well informed. 
 
 Self-sacrificing ever ; 
 To scatter happiness about 
 
 Is still her first endeavor. 
 With firmness, yet with gentleness. 
 
 Her children are directed; 
 By them with reverential love 
 
 Her precepts are respected. 
 What wonder that her life is blessed 
 
 Far more than any other! 
 Wliat wonder that my heart reveres 
 
 The Irish peasant's mother! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 31 
 
 ST. JOSEPH, BE MY FRIEND 
 
 Protector of our Holy Faith, 
 
 Great Saint of priceless worth, 
 Best loved of all the sons of men, 
 
 God ever loved on earth. 
 Thou didst provide the food for Him 
 
 From Whom all good proceeds ; 
 wilt thou not provide for me. 
 
 Dear Saint, in all my needs I 
 
 In want and strife, throughout my life, 
 
 Thy holy aid extend; 
 When death draws near, I pray thee, dear 
 
 Saint Joseph, be my friend. 
 
 By Mary best beloved of all. 
 
 Except her Son divine. 
 And next to her in His great Heart, 
 
 The first place too is thine. 
 Obtain for me the grace to breathe 
 
 Their names with my last breath ; 
 If They and thou art with me then, 
 
 I'll gladly welcome death. 
 
 Whatever betide, be thou my guide 
 
 On to the very end ; 
 When death draws near, I pray thee, dear 
 
 Saint Joseph, be my friend. 
 
32 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 THE FIRST COMMUNICANTS 
 
 In the old cathedral kneeling, 
 While the sacred music stealing 
 Through the arches was appealing 
 
 To my heart, 
 There I watched the sunlight streaming 
 Through the colored glass, and gleaming 
 On the marble altar, seeming 
 
 To impart 
 Warmth and softness with the blending 
 Of a light, sunset transcending. 
 All the sky's bright beauty lending 
 
 To the stone. 
 There God waited mid the flow'rs 
 Waited for these hearts of ours 
 
 On His Throne. 
 
 Others knelt with me adoring, 
 
 All our hearts' great grief outpouring. 
 
 Every kind of grace imploring 
 
 From our King, 
 While the organ tones, still swelling, 
 To our eager hearts were telling 
 How within their Father's dwelling 
 
 Angels sing; 
 But they spoke of God's love solely. 
 As a band of young and holy 
 First communicants came slowly 
 
 Up the aisle. 
 Boys, subdued, all downward glancing, 
 Joy their innocence enhancing, 
 Were with reverence advancing, 
 
 Void of guile. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Like a denizen of Aiden 
 Seemed each timid little maiden, 
 With her fair head, flower laden, 
 
 Bending low. 
 Watching that pure band, I thought then 
 Of the ones whose mothers brought them 
 To the arms of Him who sought them 
 
 Long ago ; 
 How disciples, over-zealous. 
 Or perhaps a little jealous, — 
 Which the scriptures do not tell us, 
 
 Said, ^^ Depart!'' 
 But the Master still caressed them. 
 Still more lovingly He blessed them, 
 And more tenderly He pressed them 
 
 To His Heart. 
 
 Changeless is that Heart forever; 
 And shall we likewise endeavor 
 Little ones from Him to sever? 
 
 Or shall we 
 Send Him those He has invited. 
 That His love may be requited. 
 That they be with Him united 
 
 Perfectly? 
 From these little children learning. 
 Trustingly to Jesus turning, 
 Are our hearts with pure love burning, 
 
 Undefiled? 
 Let us go like them to meet Him, 
 Unaffected let us greet Him, 
 For He hears when we entreat Him 
 
 As a child. 
 
34 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 AT MOUNT SAINT MARY'S 
 
 Afar at Mount Saint Mary's 
 
 The altar lamp burns bright, 
 Where faithful hearts are praying 
 
 For absent friends to-night. 
 Although a homesick alien, 
 
 I am remembered there, 
 At this thrice blessed hour 
 
 My name is heard in prayer. 
 
 Afar at Mount Saint Mary's 
 
 The shrine wherein they meet, 
 I know, is filled with flowers, 
 
 All beautiful and sweet; 
 But sweeter far the incense 
 
 Of prayer that now ascends 
 From fervent hearts to Heaven, — 
 
 The prayer for absent friends. 
 
 God bless dear Mount Saint Mary's! 
 
 God grant that holy peace 
 And sacred love may ever 
 
 There constantly increase ! 
 And may I hear in Heaven 
 
 Each voice that sweetly blends 
 In that fond supplication. 
 
 Now heard for absent friends. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 85 
 
 LADY OF LIGHT 
 
 Turn thy bright smile on our frail little bark, 
 
 Lady of Light; 
 See, we are drifting alone in the dark, 
 
 Guide us aright; 
 Hear how the tempest our misery mocks, — 
 
 Laughs at our fear. 
 Lady of Light, keep us far from the rocks, 
 
 Help us to steer 
 Over the billows, safe into port; 
 
 Help us to gain 
 Entrance at last to the Heavenly Court, 
 
 Where thou dost reign. 
 
 Spouse of the Paraclete, Lady of Light, 
 
 Hear us we pray ! 
 Be thou our beacon on this gloomy night, 
 
 Show us the way. 
 Fearless are they who are trusting in thee, 
 
 Fearless the souls 
 Whom thou art leading o 'er life 's stormy sea. 
 
 Safe from the shoals. 
 Thou who art ever the sailor's resort. 
 
 Guide us aright; 
 Lead us in safety to God's holy port, 
 
 Lady of Light. 
 
S6 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 THE FOUNTAIN PEN 
 
 My father filled his fountain pen, 
 
 Then poised it in his hand 
 And said: *^My boy, there's not a man 
 
 Who rightly understands 
 The depth of evil that the ink 
 
 I put in here may do 
 If this old pen is not propelled 
 
 By one whose heart is true ; 
 But if a wise, unselfish man. 
 
 One thoroughly sincere. 
 Should sway this pen, the good 'twill do 
 
 We may not measure here. 
 Unlimited the fair effects 
 
 Of ink when rightly used ; 
 Unlimited, the bad effects, 
 
 If it should be abused. 
 
 Now, brains resemble ink, my boy; 
 
 'Twere well if some had less 
 Wlio use them not, their fellow man, 
 
 Nor God Himself to bless ; 
 'Twere better they had none at all, 
 
 Who gifts of mind employ 
 That they the virtue and the Faith 
 
 In others may destroy; 
 But when a man whose heart is right 
 
 Possesses talent too. 
 My soul exults to contemplate 
 
 The good that he may do — 
 
AND OTHER POEMS S7 
 
 Enough! I think this fountain pen 
 
 Has made the lesson plain ; 
 First cultivate your heart, my son, 
 
 Then cultivate your bain." 
 
 Safe in my desk, I still preserve 
 
 My father 's fountain pen, 
 Just to remind me of the truth 
 
 He wisely taught me then. 
 True scion of the Celtic race 
 
 Who rightly value lore. 
 But who, as history proudly tells, 
 
 Have valued Faith still more, 
 He labored through a useful life 
 
 This lesson to impart; 
 It is a crime to educate 
 
 The brain, and not the heart, — 
 While talents in a villain work 
 
 An evil truly great. 
 The educated Christian is 
 
 The safeguard of the State. 
 
38 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 TABBY'S TRIUMPH 
 
 Two little maidens, that ought to be good, 
 
 Two little sisters, fell out; 
 One owned a dog and the other a cat, 
 
 These brought the mischief about. 
 Both were inclined to indulge in rough sport, 
 
 Both disregarded the laws ; 
 Fido was fond of displaying his teeth. 
 
 Tab was too free with her claws. 
 
 Last Thursday morning the crisis was reached, 
 
 Fido shook Tab, who returned 
 Quite unexpectedly, right in the eye. 
 
 That which his boldness well earned. 
 Kathleen was frightened — her pet might go 
 blind ; 
 
 May, quite delighted to think 
 Tabby had mastered ^^the ugly old dog,'' 
 
 Promised her cream for a drink. 
 
 Kathleen indignantly cried : ^ ^ I will drown, 
 
 Sure as I'm living, that cat!" 
 ''Will you, indeed?" was the saucy retort; 
 
 ''Pussy, my dear, heard you that?" 
 Heedless of warnings the culprit was caught, 
 
 Tied in an old flour sack. 
 Carried away to a pool in the woods — 
 
 Never again to come back. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 39 
 
 Kathleen had dragged it 'way out on a log, 
 
 Lying just over the brink, 
 Where it was deepest and where she was sure 
 
 Tabby would easily sink. 
 Taking cat's lives is a terrible thing! 
 
 That she was nervous is true; 
 And in her effort to push off the sack — 
 
 Kathleen went tumbling in too. 
 
 Down to the bottom she dived like a fish, 
 
 Down with a heartrending shout ; 
 Thanks be to goodness ! her father was near, 
 
 Ready to help his girl out. 
 Back to the surface she bobbed like a cork, 
 
 Safe in his arms she was clasped ; 
 * * Good for the cat ! I have drowned the old thing ! ' ' 
 
 These were the first words she gasped. 
 
 Wet as a sponge, she was brought to the house, 
 
 May was provokingly kind; 
 Lo ! on the hearthstone, with Fido there sat 
 
 Tabby herself, do you mind? 
 Everyone laughed at poor Kathleen, except 
 
 Herself and the dog and the cat; 
 Cats cannot laugh and that is just why 
 
 Tabby so solemnly sat. 
 
40 SUSQUEHANNA 
 
 KATHLEEN 
 
 When the dawn of day is breaking, 
 And the vernal earth awaking, 
 All the dreams of night forsaking. 
 
 Sparkles in her robes of green ; 
 Then when every grove is ringing. 
 With a thousand wild birds singing, 
 All my thoughts go backward winging, 
 
 And I think of you, Kathleen. 
 
 Every fair and sunny hour, 
 
 Some bright cloud, or some sweet flower 
 
 Seemingly has magic power 
 
 To revert my thoughts to you. 
 When I feel soft zephyrs blowing, 
 Or I hear the waters flowing. 
 Then I find my heart is going 
 
 Back to her who still is true. 
 
 Wlien the summer sun is setting. 
 All the West with rose-light fretting, 
 I, the cares of day forgetting. 
 
 Feast my eyes upon the scene ; 
 And with faith in God abiding. 
 Nothing from His kind eye hiding, 
 Utterly in Him confiding, 
 
 Then I pray for you, Kathleen.