PS 3501 .D29 P6 1901 Copy 1 U«| nnt) Class __::ps^ arc/ Book ^_.2JlZ=^ CoEyrigtit]^^ /?<"7 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT "Aoliy aod 9tl20p> ^ocm^-, 6 J I. i^^ / tVt^-vi^»^-2 @nb (Di^er (pome, BY M. WINCHESTER ADAMS. NEW YORK : FRANCIS W. ORVIS. 1901. 7s srd/ The LliRARY OF OONGRESS, Two Cui^iES Received DEC. U 190! CePVRIOHT ENTRY CLASS a^XXa No. 7. % 2, tf'f COPY B. Copyright, igoi by M. Winchester Adams. m^^ Sisters (3ertruC)e ant) Blsie, A CHRISTMAS GREETING. I've read sometime, I know not where, The Christ Child comes to every heart On Christmas eve and asks, 'What message Will you send your friend ere I depart?" And if the messages have been Of kindly thought and cheer For one another, on Christmas morn The sunbeams smile, the sky is clear And all the world looks glad, But if too many hearts have answered not The sky is cloudy and the world looks sad. I know not if the story's true, I like the thought and so have written it for you, And whether skies are clear or gray I wish for thee and thine, A Merry Christmas Day. CONTENTS. "Polly" I A Nursery Story 3 Gray Coat and Blue Eyes 4 Scarlet Pimpernel 6 Doris 7 Two Locations 8 Great-Grandma's Calache 9 A Mother's Love ii Ted 12 At Eventide 14 A Nursery Outing 15 Cradle Song 17 Our Nature 19 March 20 Little Things 21 Monarch and Subject 23 The New Year 24 The White Chrysanthemum 25 CONTENTS. Souvenirs 26 The Cichorium Intybus 28 October 29 Then You Never Were a Boy 30 An American Boy's Lament 31 A Mountain Town 33 Cherry, Cheerup 35 My Neighbor's Little Daughter 36 The Ambrotype 37 Hannah Dustin 38 May 41 The Bell and the Mouse 42 Two Old Prints 43 September 45 Our Flag 46 Our Well-Beloved 48 Decoration Day 49 Shadow and Sunshine 50 Polly's Celebration 52 The Sandman and Dreamlady _ 53 Isn't It True? 54 A Birthday Story 55 The Trailing Arbutus 58 Little Women 59 "Paul" 60 The Swallows 62 The Children's Valentine 63 Second Gift Song 64 Turning Over a New Leaf 66 My Little Daughters 67 The Photograph 69 The Little Maids 71 An Easter Prayer 72, Two Little Soldiers 74 CONTENTS. Our Red, White and Blue 76 Baby Amee 77 Three Little Folks Hortense Indian Pipe The Leaves Little Electa Catharine Mrs. Thompson's Story The Soldiers Wee Marie To the Old Pear Tree, Truro, Mass. Treasures Building A Boy's Heart Tomorrow 78 80 81 83 84 86 90 92 93 94 95 "POLIvY" AND OTHER POEMS. "POLLY." When the sun has vanished And the day has fled, When the leaves are silent, O'er the robins' bed, "Polly" climbs up on my knee. Tells her joys and griefs to me, Says she loves me "truly true," Kisses me and hugs me, too, Begs for stories old and new. As a four-year maid can do. When the stars are peeping At us from on high. In the dear "sky parlor," We go bye-low-bye. In the big white rocking chair With no thought of grief or care. While here and there and ev'ry where Flits mamma with her gold-brown hair, She kisses "Polly," icisses me, In the dear old nursery. "POLLY." When the wee maid's sleeping, In her little bed, Mamma's hand caressing "Polly's" golden head, Then we talk and try to plan, Best as our short vision can, For the sweet child, who in dreams Of the angels catches gleams ; Oh ! how long the days will be When she leaves the nursery. When earth's sun has vanished. And life's griefs have fled, When the light of heaven Shines on "Polly's" head. Should her locks be gold or gray When she enters endless day, May the All-Wise till that time Keep her heart a sunny clime, May He find it then to be True as in earth's nursery. "POLLY." A NURSERY STORY. 'Tis true, every word of it true, For the nursery cat told me, How he'd watched a bird, a blue paper bird. Who sat in a green paper tree ; How he'd watched the bird from morn till night And was hungry as hungry could be. 'Tis true, every word of it true, For the blue paper bird told me, How he'd watched a cat, a black cloth cat, Who sat at the foot of the tree ; How he'd watched the cat from morn till night And was afraid as afraid could be. 'Tis true, every word of it true — For I dreamed in the nursery — 'Till two little maids, two blue-eyed maids Came in and awakened me. And I never found out if the cat ate the bird Or the bird died of fright, you see. GRAY COAT AND BLUE EYES. "Jack Frost has helped me, I knew he would," Said a squirrel with coat of gray ; "He has opened the burrs, the little nuts' furs, In a most astonishing way." And while he talked a wonderful breeze, Scattered nuts on every side ; And he said, "Very soon, perhaps by noon, My winter's store I can safely hide." He worked away, this little Gray Coat, As happy as happy could be, Till he'd hid for his store a quart or more In a hole at the foot of a tree. He covered them up with leaves' of brown, When some children out nutting, too. Came bounding along with shout and with song, Swinging their baskets, bright and new. GRAY COAT AND BLUE EYES. And one little Blue Eyes found the nuts, Little Gray Coat had stored away, "And she took them all, the large and the small," I think I hear somebody say. Ah ! no, she didn't, she left them there. For my little Blue Eyes was good. Now which do you say out nutting that day. Was the happiest one in the wood? SCARLET PIMPERNEL. Dainty little flower, of a scarlet hue If the weather's clear, you smile up at the blue Of the sky above you, in a cheerful way, And your open blossoms mean a pleasant day. But if it is cloudy or you're sure of rain, Closed you keep your petals, coaxing is in vain ; You're a weather prophet, all may read who pass, And the people call you, "Poor man's weather glass." DORIS. Who lives at the cottage, the little stone cottage, Where hollyhocks bloom by the gate and the wall? Why Doris, sweet Doris, my little love Doris, Who meets me at eve when the whip-poor- wills call. Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! then Doris is waiting By the old picket gate where the hollyhocks red. Have swayed to and fro so oft in the twilight And heard the dear words that my Doris hath said. And close by the window, the hollyhocks golden Reach up and look in at the maiden so fair ; And listen in silence to words sweet and humble That Doris says morning and evening in prayer. Low over the roof of the little stone cottage The maple boughs bend as if guarding from harm. And who is sweet Doris? Why, my wee daughter Doris, The treasure that gives to the cottage its charm. TWO LOCATIONS. Massachusetts. Growing by the roadside Along the old stone wall, Dainty blushes giving To the passers all. As I look upon you I hear the children say: "Aren't the Boston Beauties Beautiful to-day?" New Jersey. Then there comes a picture Of these flowers so fair. Growing by the wayside Without a bit of care. And some other children Who laughing say, "Now let's Go and get our arms full Of lovely Bouncing Bets." I "EMELINE." GREAT-GRANDMA'S CALACHE. Such a funny looking bonnet My great-grandma used to wear ; Not a bit of lace upon it, Nor a flower anywhere. There were reeds run round and round it, In the silk of soft leaf green; Till the bonnet represented Mountain ranges, vales between. It was lined with lavender Round her sweet young face ; Two long ribbons at the front Drew the canopy in place. When the sun shone warm and bright, These she fastened to her belt, Hidden then in silken barrel, This great-grandma's brown curls dwelt. GREAT-GRANDMA S CALACHE. Underneath her chin 'twas fastened In those days of long ago, By two strings of lustring ribbon, Which she fashioned in a bow, 'Twas a wondrous silken bonnet, India silk, from distant land, And her mother did the making. Placed each stitch with loving hand. In her wee hair trunk I found it. With her Christian name and mine. In brass tacks upon the cover, Plainly printed — "Emeline," Oft I wish dear great grandmother, In calache and dainty gown. Would come back and tell us stories Of ye maids of Boston town. And to-day one of my treasures That I guard with greatest care. Is the funny-looking bonnet My great-grandma used to wear. lO A MOTHER'S LOVE. If all the honors the world can hold Were put on great scales in solid gold, Till the scales no more could bear; And if on the other side you place — That wondrous power and infinite grace — One mother's love and care. How would the two compare? Why! the greatest honors would be so small A mother's love would outweigh them all, The gold would be light as air. No song that a child's heart e'er can sing No tribute its hand can ever bring Can honor too much that gift so fair, A mother's love and care. II TED. He's the first one up in the morning, The one who would go last to bed; He is always in for a frolic, Cares naught for a bump on his head. He laughs when he pounds his fingers In coupling his "Toot-toot" cars And when his train stops at "Boston" Fills the room with his loud hurrahs. He hugs you and kisses you softly, If he's some little axe to grind ; As, mending his books or his boxes. Or helping his marbles to find. He's willful, he's good, and he's naughty, This laddie so full of his play; I love him, correct, and caress him, A dozen times each in a day. 12 rED. He pets you and calls you "a darling," Then begs for "just one story more;" When, perhaps, already you've told him, Only two or three less than a score. He's a dear little hypocrite always, For the last new friend is the best, And when he, is talking- to that one, He forgets about all of the rest. No doubt there are others just like him, In many a household to-day; Just as good, mischievous and naughty, As noisy at work or at play. Be patient, they all will grow older. The floor will be freed from all toys ; For order will reign, yes, and quiet. But, oh, how we'll miss the wee boys. 13 AT EVENTIDE. Come Polly and Lo, To sleep you must go, For the fire fly's lighted his lamp; The lady moon, too, Is smiling at you, And dew makes the clover-tops damp. The katydids sing, The bat's on the wing, The crickets chirp softly and low; And down in the bog, Some lazy old frog. Is croaking his song, I know. So hurry to bed, Let each curly head Nestle down in the pillow so white ; The angels will keep Sweet watch while you sleep. And Nature'll sing softly, good night. 14 'LO." A NURSERY OUTING. Up and down, up and down, Polly and Lo, In the old arm chair To Boston go. With arms round my neck, And cheeks close to mine, Shouting and laughing, ''We'll be there by nine." We play the old chair Is really a boat, And we rock very fast When Point Judith we note. At old Narragansett We stop on the pier. And we laugh in the sunshine. For the day's very clear. And then just to Newport We go for a while, "Such a beautiful outing" We say with a smile. 15 A NURSERY OUTING. The chair then becomes The fastest of cars, And the nursery's filled With our shouts and hurrahs. We hurry past Taunton And Quincy and so Up and down, up and down. To Boston go. i6 CRADLE SONG. Hush thee, my darUng, To sleep you must go ; As you journey to Nodland, I'll sing to thee so. First, Hush-a-bye station, Next, Bye-low town ; The sandman throws cinders Till eyehds go down. When the city of Slumber Is reached at last, The journey to Nodland In safety's passed. Hush thee, my darling. As older you grow, As to Nodland you journey, You'll think the song so. 17 CRADLE SONG. Pretty Hush-a-bye station, Is Wakeful town; The sandman has vanished . And Bye-low's burned down. A near town of Dreaming You'll find on the way To reflect all your worries And cares of the day. Hush thee, my darling. To sleep you must go ; For sleep we call Nodland, Although you don't know. OUR NATURE. I know a darling little boy, Whose eyes are black as night ; He is sometimes very good, And he's often very bright. Once I asked him, why so naughty, Why so oft he made me sad? He tearfully made answer, " 'Tis my nature to be bad." Then we talked the trouble over Till the sunshine came again. And he promised to do better, And I softly said, "Amen." Then I wondered if the Father Who watches o'er us all, And sees how oft we're fainting, How we stumble oft, and fall ; Does not, if we struggle onward, Send us then a ray of light. If we pray for help and guidance, To pursue again the right. As we forgive the children He forgives us, and is glad ; For he knows how very often 'Tis our nature to be bad. 19 MARCH. The naughtiest son of old Father Time Is here again. His condition is prime ! Of course, you know him, the rohcking elf, Who cares for no one, not even himself; He blusters and howls, and flurries about, Until in your mind there isn't a doubt But that he is spoiled, as some children are, The very worst one of Time's dozen by far. His stay is always just thirty-one days — Ere his visit is over we're up to his ways ; He's "meek as a lamb," and sometimes as still, But when he's the "lion" he roars with a will. I asked him, one morn, why to earth he was sent, Pertly he answered, "To amuse you in Lent." Oh, March, you're so naughty, it must be why April's so sorry and given to cry; Yet, who from their lives would spare you each year? — Not I for one — without many a tear; So while we talk of your very rude ways. We invite you next year for thirty-one days. 20 LITTLE THINGS. If a word some one has spoken, Cheered you just one little day. Pass the sunshine on to others, Whom you meet upon Life's way. It may help to lift the burden Of some one in sore distress ; How much good may be accomplished By a word, we cannot guess. If a smile your heart has gladdened, When dark clouds obscured your sky, Pass the sunshine on to others ; You can do it if you try. It may be your smile will brighten Some one's life with sadness filled, When the sunshine lights a pathway ; Then the troubled waves are stilled. 21 LITTLE THINGS. If a little act of kindness Gave you courage, when you thought All the world was cold and selfish. Live the lesson that it taught. Give a helpful hand to others, As you needed, they may need. Every life is made the better By a generous, kindly deed. 'Tis the little things that daily Make our lives a joy or woe; Do the little things, then, bravely, Fill the minutes, ere they go, With a smile, or word of comfort, Or a kindly act, though small, 'Tis the little things that really Are the greatest, after all. 22 MONARCH AND SUBJECT. MONARCH AND SUBJECT. In our glorious Land of Freedom, Yet doth monarchy hold sway; And the stoutest-hearted patriot Oft the quickest will obey Every wish of tyrant monarch — Ruling strong as iron bar — Who is the monarch? A wee grand-child. And the subject? Grandpapa. 23 THE NEW YEAR. He is waiting to enter, the infant New Year. Are we ready to meet him, to welcome with cheer? Are our thoughts for the old, who is dying to- day. Or for the New Year, with his bright, winsome way? Will the book that he carries, so spotlessly white. Be dingy and black, as the Old Year's to-night? Shall we make new resolves to please him, and then Shed tears at his dying, that they're broken again? Let us kneel by the side of the Old Year to-night And pray to fill better the new book so white, By doing the tasks that come day by day, And helping the weak, whom we meet on the way. His book will be whitest whose heart is kept true — Whether here he's called Christian or Pagan or Jew — To the best that is in him, and surely he'll hear In his heart always ringing a Happy New Year. 24 THE WHITE CHRYSANTHEMUM. In giving flowers a language, When the earth was in its youth. They gave the white chrysanthemum The beautiful meaning — truth. When all other flowers have vanished, Then it stands forth pure and bright ; So truth stands firm when all else fades, For you cannot hide its light. 25 SOUVENIRS. A book, some withered flowers, Old coins, and china fine ; And many little trinkets Of quaint or rare design. These, Dorothy brought home with her From lands across the sea, "As souvenirs," she gayly said, With girhsh pride and glee. And each one had a story. The flowers were worn in France ; The book was read one rainy day In a vine-clad English manse. And Dorothy seated on the rug Related all to me, Until I thought I, too, had been In lands across the sea. 26 SOUVENIRS, Then, as we sat in silence In the cheerful grate fire's glow, My thoughts went wandering backward To the days of long ago, Till Dorothy said, softly, "Now tell me, Auntie, dear, Which one of all your keepsakes Is your choicest souvenir." "My choicest keepsake, darling, Is the memory of a voice And a smile whose very sweetness Would make your heart rejoice. And, Dorothy, when this life is o'er, That voice and smile shall be My music and my sunshine Throughout eternity." Then Dorothy slowly put away Her treasures, one by one ; And on the top the flowers laid, Once golden as the sun. She came and whispered softly, "Good night, sweet dreams, my dear,' And left me in the firelight With memory's souvenir. 27 THE CICHORIUM INTYBUS. Art thou searching after knowledge That thou cometh ev'ry year, With thy bright blue flowers flaunting In old Harvard's atmosphere? Art thou trying to be learned? Art thou holding summer school? Now the buildings all are empty, Wilt thou break a single rule? Didst thou know it? Thou art charming, From some oriental clime ; Creep up closer to each building. Notice thou shalt gain in time. Yes, I love thee, little flower. Come with each returning year ; Flaunt thy blue heads every summer In old Harvard's atmosphere. 28 OCTOBER. Crisp the air, the days grow shorter, Leaves are turning brown and red ; In the orchard rosy apples Hang above the head. Bittersweet and blue closed gentian, Make the woods and meadows bright; Nuts are almost ripe for gathering. To a boy's delight. So we welcome thee, October — Oft our hearts thou hast beguiled With thy gay and saucy manner — Nature's gypsy child. 29 THEN YOU NEVER WERE A BOY. Did you ever think of sailing On a fleecy cloud away; To a land where work's forbidden And there's naught to do but play? Did you ever drum and whistle, And keep time with your feet ; And think of all earth's music No other quite so sweet? Did you ever want to "stay up" When 'twas time to go to bed? Did you ever fill your pockets With stones, and sticks, and lead. And tacks, and nails, and marbles, And strings, and bits of glass? To find that in the morning Every one was gone, alas ! Did you ever have grown people Saying to you, don't and don't ; And don't, and don't, and don't, and don't, And don't, and don't, and don't? Were you ever sent an errand With a message you must say. To find 'twas strangely altered Or forgotten on the way? Did you never have these pleasures Or these sorrows to annoy ; With a multitude of others? Then you never were a boy. 30 'Then you never were a boy." AN AMERICAN BOY'S LAMENT. I'm really tired of living' In this slow and easy way, When the newest thing invented Gets quite old within a day. And our fastest modes of traveling Are indeed so very slow, Why, sixty miles a minute Is as fast as we can go. Oil, the good times all are coming, But I won't be here to see The air-ship's steady sailing Through the sky so rapidly. When the Polar sea's discovered, Then every one will say : "How very stupid people were In dear old grandpa's day." 31 AN AMERICAN BOY S LAMENT. Now, the science men who study All about the stars and sky, Say this planet that we live on Will some time be very dry. Others say it will be deluged And the people will be drowned; Now I'd like to be the last one At those times to be around. Oh, we need some new inventions, 'Lectric wings or magic slate, Or something real amusing For a boy to investigate. Now I'm really very anxious To find something new to see; What a pity I'm not living In some later centurv. 32 A MOUNTAIN TOWN. (Wales, Mass.) I know a pretty mountain town, Where sunshine loves to stay, And with the leaves play hide and seek. The livelong summer day. Upon the surface of its lake The white pond lilies rest, And near the shore, in gorgeous robes. The cardinal flow'r's dressed. A fountain, fed by living springs, Far up the mountain's side. Stands where roads cross, and in it does This mountain town take pride. Ten miles away, the iron horse Goes speeding on its way ; You take the stage and onward ride, Until at close of day — 33 A MOUNTAIN TOWN. Just as the sun is sinking low, And bidding earth good-night — The church spires of this mountain town Come slowly into sight. And in the distance, mountains rise — Mt. Pizgah, Hitchcock, too ; Two thousand feet above the sea! You breathe, and know 'tis true. And in your heart give thanks to God For this pretty mountain town, Where nature is so bright and gay You cannot wear a frown. 34 CHERRY, CHEERUP. Robin, robin redbreast, Tell me do you know, Robin, robin redbreast Where the cherries grow? Yes you do, you know you do, Between the leaves you're peeping through As you watch and sing to me In my neighbor's cherry tree. "Cherry, cherry cheerup," Polly calls you that ; Cherry, cherry cheerup, Polly has a cat. Polly says your bib's "all yed," "Stole the cherries" so she said. But you do not seem to care, Sitting in the tree top there. Robin, robin redbreast, Sing your song to me, "Cherry, cherry cheerup," From the cherry tree. Cherries on the topmost bough Are for robins anyhow ; So sit and sing and eat away, Your song is all that's asked in pay. 35 MY NEIGHBOR'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. Should you ask me where there's sunshine On a dark and cloudy day, I should tell you, down the street, Such a very little way : Go one block this way, one block that, You cannot miss the place, For my neighbor's little daughter With a sweetly winning grace, Will welcome you and greet you — A truly sunshine queen — So I call her "Little Sunshine," Though her name is Ernestine. And I think if all the children — We grown-up children, too — Should be thoughtful of each other, What a lot of good we'd do. We could fill the world with sunshine If we each but did our part, Like my neighbor's httle daughter, With the sunshine of the heart. 36 THE' AMBROTYPE. THE AMBROTYPE. Some very, very rainy day, When there isn't much to do, If grandma wih get her treasures And wiU let you look them through, You may find, perchance, a picture. Something like this laddie's here, And grandma will tell you sweetly, "That's an ambrotype, my dear." She will also say, '"Twas taken Nearly forty years ago. About the time the war broke out, The Civil War, you know ; Then, photographs we did not have. But these pictures made on glass. That were put in little cases. With a dainty clasp of brass." And she'll tell you that her laddie Was patriotic, too ; He used to make great soldier caps. Just as little boys now do ! And when you close the ambrotype. And hand it back again, She'll tell you, "Patriotic boys Make patriotic men." 37 HANNAH DUSTIN. March, 1697. In and out, now smooth, now rapid In its onward way ; Hurrying in its course to seaward Flows the Merrimac to-day. Flows and sings as o'er two hundred Years ago it sang; When the upland and the lowland With the Indian war whoop rang. Sings and sighs and tells the story How a woman brave, Hannah Dustin, killed her captors, That she might her own life save. 'Twas at Haverhill the Indians Took her from her bed, Burned her home and slew her baby, Left it on the wayside, dead. 38 HANNAH DUSTIN. Took with them her nurse and others They had captured there, Miles they marched with scanty clothing, Through the snow and frosty air. One by one, the captured faltered On their weary way, Tomahawked and scalped and lifeless They were left ere break of day. And but three of all the number Reached that little isle, Where the Contoocook, advancing, Greets the Merrimac with a smile. Then it was that Hannah Dustin, Planned her life to save, And her nurse's, with assistance That a captive white lad gave. They had learned that on the morrow Ere the set of sun, At a distant Indian village, They the gauntlet had to run. 39 HANNAH DUSTIN. So at daybreak with great caution Stealthily they crept To the place where, all unthinking, Twelve unguarded Indians slept. And with Indian hatchets quickly Killed them all but two — A squaw and favorite boy escaping — Then scuttled all but one canoe. With the guns and scalps and hatchets Proceeded then the three In the one canoe remaining To their homes in Haverhill — free. In and out, now smooth, now rapid In its onward way ; Past the spot where stood the wigwams Flows the Merrimac to-day. Flows and sings the whole sad story Very soft and low, That upon its banks it witnessed O'er two hundred years ago. 40 MAY. Bring flowers bright to crown to-day, The winsome, bonny month of May. Hepatica, of dainty blue Anemone, spring beauties, too, And dandehons, wee stars so bright That lost their way from heaven one night. Then wild geranium, violets yellow. And Jack in the Pulpit, saucy fellow. Next intertwine throughout the crown. The prettiest shades of green in town ; And as the choicest gem of all, Bring that sweet blushing flower so small, The fairest one that ever grew. Trailing the mossy woodland through. Arbutus, Mayflower, as you will. Of May 'tis emblematic still. For May's the dearest, fairest child On which old Father Time e'er smiled. 1 hen crown her queen of the year to-day The winsome bonny month of May. 41 THE BELL AND THE MOUSE. Once on a time — oh, sad to tell — A mousie ate up my "Liberty Bell ;" 'Twas made of silk of a golden hue Yet mousie cared not, for what did he do But nibble a hole in the side of my bell Once on a time — oh, sad to tell. Once on a time, 'tis true, quite true, I made me a bell of a golden hue And filled it with seeds from a melon sweet, So the mousie found out and called it a treat And he ate it all up before I knew ; Once on a time, 'tis true, quite true. Once on a time, oh, sad to say, I caught the mousie with coat of gray And he lost his liberty, sad to tell. Because he ate up my Liberty Bell. And the mousie died one autumn day, Once on a time, oh, sad to say. 42 The Bostonians Paying The Excise-Man,^ Or Tarynng Aiid Feathering TWO OLD PRINTS. Two queer old prints once used to hang In my grandfather's wide old hall, In mahogany frames, by worsted cords, On the side of the western wall. "Bostonians paying the exciseman," Was the one with the "Liberty Tree," While the exciseman, all feathers and tar. Was begging for liberty ! A rope round his neck, a noose overhead. Showed hanging might be a fact ; On the trunk of the tree, placed upside down A sign bore the words "Stamp Act." And tne exciseman they drenched with tea — Did these good men of Boston town — Till the grin on their faces would lead you to think Each one was a circus clown. 43 TWO OLD PRINTS. In the background a ship and men in disguise, Who into the waters so bkie, Were swiftly unloading the chests of tea, Three hundred and forty-two. There stood on a hill, in the other old print, A gibbet, with rope dangling there. And the customhouse officer feathered and tarred In an attitude of prayer. While with pot of tea and a good strong club On either side stood a man ; And under the picture in lettering quaint This notable legend ran : — "For the custom house officer's landing the tea They tarred him and feathered him, just as you see; And they drench'd him so well, both behind and be- fore, That he begged for God's sake they would drench, him no more." Oh, wonderful stories these old prints held, Which we heard 'round grandfather's knee. Of the men and women of 'seventy-six. Their hardships and bravery. 44 Copied Ai^iLsUt Luriaer A New Method Of MararK>nij FAakinq as Pr'aciused ai Boston SEPTEMBER. The dainty sweet clover looks tired and sleepy. The daisy has rumpled its white velvet gown ; The golden rod's flaunting its plume in the meadow, The blue and white asters are seeking renown. On the salt marshes, the pretty marshmallow Is dressed in its pink silk as if for a ball, While o'er it like lovers, so gracefully bending, Are the flags and the grasses so stately and tall. The children are home from their long summer outing. With cheeks all aglow and eyes sparkling bright. Of school days they talk, while their merry sweet laughter Again fills our hearts with life's early delight. Less ardent to-day is the sun in its wooing — And earth seems to care not his love to re- member — The flowers and children, the cool nights and mornings Are surely proclaiming that this is September. 45 OUR FLAG. Float our bright banner free to the breeze, Always proclaiming lessons like these : Freedom and unity, courage and strength, Devotion to right throughout the whole length Of our glorious land. What heart is not proud of our beautiful flag! Who can see the broad stripes of the red and the white Without thought of the patriots, brave men and true Who fought for our country, that right and not might In the new world should stand As our aim. We who for this principle also shall fight Their kinship may claim ; Who notes the white stars on the field of deep blue Without inspiration to be loyal and true To all that shall keep our fair land the best, From ocean to ocean, united and blest. 46 OUR FLAG. Then unfurl our loved Red, White and Blue, Brave battles have under these colors been fought And the Stars and the Stripes grand lessons have taught And will teach them anew. 47 OUR WELL-BELOVED. (William McKinley, September 14, 1901.) We dwell on his statesmanship with pride. We love, of his life, its Christ-like side. His trusting faith in the All- Wise One, *'It is God's way; His will be done." His loving care of his faithful wife, Ev'ry day of a busy life ; His thoughtful word for the deadly foe, "Let no one harm him." Aye, we know He must have sat at the Master's feet. To speak forgiveness so complete. "Nearer, my God, to Thee," his prayer, "E'en though it be a cross" to bear. Comforting words for the faithful heart Who knew the hour had come to part. The "Good-bye, all," at life's ebbing tide, A message to our Nation wide ; No one forgotten — his great heart knew The grief his people must pass through. With sorrowing hearts we kneel and pray, "God's will be done, not ours," alway. We dwell on his statesmanship with pride, We love, of his life, its Christ-like side. 48 DECORATION DAY. Gather garlands bright to scatter To-day with loving hand O'er the graves of our brave soldiers, Those who fought to save the land. Place the fiag they loved and cherished On each lowly bed — For their country's sake they perished — They, our brave and honored dead. Tramping and marching Now for them is o'er ; They have gained the land of promise Where peace reigns forevermore. "Boys in blue" of the rebellion Are scattered far or dead ; But remember all they suffered And in reverence bow the head. Think to-day of our fair country As each flower we bring, While in all our hearts in chorus We "America" will sing. Tramping and marching Now for all is o'er, ' And throughout our Land of Freedom We're united evermore. 49 SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. All day things had gone wrong you know As they will sometimes do ; There seemed no sunshine in the world Although the sky was blue, And thus it chanced that bitter thoughts And I, at close of day, Were close companions, as I walked Along the homeward way. What is life worth? not much I thought — When stepping up to me A friend said in a laughing way Some little pleasantry. The sky looked brighter, next I met A bonny brown eyed child, Who took my hand and softly said : — "I love you dear," and smiled. 50 " 'I love you, dear,' and smiled." SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. And when at home the sweetest voice On earth to me did say : — "I am so glad that you have come I've missed you so to-day." The sun came out, and bitter thoughts Took wings and swiftly fled, And then in deep contrition Unto myself I said : — "I will not let them come again When things go wrong, I'll try To think the sunshine's waiting To cheer me by and by ; Then I can borrow in advance And so perchance I may Dispel the clouds as they arise. When things go wrong some day." What is life worth? again I thought While gladness filled my heart, 'Tis surely worth the living If we but do our part. Then pass along the kindly thought That helped you in your need ; And make the world all sunshine With humanity your creed. 51 POLLY'S CELEBRATION. "I's doin' to have a birfday," ■ Said Polly, wee and shy; Whose hair was golden thistle down, Whose eyes matched the blue sky. "I's four years old to-morrow-day," She said with long drawn sigh, And I replied, "How very old You will be by and by." The morrow came and little guests, With happy childish glee. When, lo, behold ! the Stars and Stripes From flagstaff floating free. "Why, what is this," her mamma asked; She answered : "Tant 'oo see. They put flags up for Washington, I's dot it up for me." 52 THE SANDMAN AND DREAMLADY. Rock-a-bye ! Hush-a-bye ! Sandman is coming. With a whole load of Shut-eye town sand; Hereabout, thereabout, soon he will throw it At the wee folks on every hand. Rock-a-bye, Alta ! Hush-a-bye, Katherine ! Close your bright eyes so they cannot be seen, Then the old Sandman will haste on his journey Taking his car load of sand, I ween. Rock-a-bye ! Hush-a-bye ! Dreamlady's coming, With her arms full of Drowsy Town toys ; Hereabout, thereabout, she will distribute Fast as she can to wee girls and boys. Rock-a-bye, Alta ! Hush-a-bye, Katherine ! Close your eyes quick or you won't get your share, For the Dreamlady must haste o'er the country, Little folks wait for her ev'rywhere. Rock-a-bye ! Hush-a-bye ! Sandman is going, Dreamlady's here, for eyes are shut tight; Hereabout, thereabout, bright stars are shining, Mother will guard you all through the night. Rock-a-bye, Alta ! Hush-a-bye, Katherine ! The Ladymoon laughs, the Sandman is sad, Hush-a-bye, sleep, and smile at your treasures Then you will make the Dreamlady glad. 53 ISN'T IT TRUE? Is it not truCj dear. Black skies seem blue, dear, When we are happy and glad? Blue skies seem gray, dear, Dark is the day, dear, When we're unhappy and sad. Strange, but we know, dear. The flow'rs that grow, dear, Out in the sunshine so bright ; Are not so sweet, dear. As those we greet, dear. That know both shadow and light. So the All-Wise, dear. Never denies, dear, That which is best for our good ; Blue skies and gray, dear, Helped in their way, dear, The flowers grow sweet in the wood. 54 •EDWARD." A BIRTHDAY STORY. There once was a boy whom I knew, That much of this story is true ; His eyes they were brown and he Hved in a town Where the Hackensack river goes winding down, In its every day walk to the sea ; And all this is as true as can be. Now this little boy you must know. Was a real little boy, and so I shall have to say, he could work and could play, And once every year he had a birthday. Till at last he was seven years old ; Which is seven times one I am told. And what do you think happened then? Why, some lassies and little men Were invited to tea as polite as could be, And they came and they played and they laughed* with glee, Just as nice little girls and boys do ; Ev'ry word that I've told you is true. 55 A BIRTHDAY STORY. But by and by nine o'clock came, The little ones stopped every game, And with eyes shining bright, they all said "good night," And this I am sure you'll concede was quite right, For nine o'clock's late, I know you will say. Though Edward was seven that day. Now this part I'm not sure is true. But I think it quite likely, don't you? When he closed his brown eyes, to sleep, as was wise, The hobgoblin folks held in store a surprise. Strange enough to make any boy scream, But perhaps it was only a dream. What he saw I think I can guess, A "nightmare !" for I must confess Once when I was small, the bad hobgoblins all. Sent one to my room, which it used as a stall, And I fed it on sandwich and cake. But, dear me, how my poor head did ache. 56 A BIRTHDAY STORY. There once was a boy whom I knew — That much of this story is true — And the moral is clear, the "nig-htmare" will appear If you eat late at night, cake and sandwich, my dear, So be careful and maybe some day Hobgoblins will feed it on hay. 57 THE TRAILING ARBUTUS. 'Tis a lowly flower, growing So close to mother earth ; Unless you stoop to gather it, You know not half its worth. As brave as were the Puritans To face the wintry blast, It ventures forth in early spring While yet the sky's o'ercast. 'Twas to it the flower angel Whispered something in the glade ; It has ever since been blushing, So like a pretty maid. Under leaves it hides its blossoms, This "beauty of the wood ;" That is what the angel whispered, And Arbutus understood. Of all the early spring flowers, Oh, give me just this one, That dares to breathe of Summer, Ere yet the winter's done ; That bids us all be hopeful, E'en in the chilly air ; For oft the darkest day in life May hold some treasure rare. 58 LITTLE WOMEN. Long ago we read the story That the children love to-day ; 'Twas about four little women, All of whom have passed away. How our eyes grew dim with weeping, As we read about the death Of the patient little woman Whom we children knew as "Beth." Then the petted winsome "Amy/' Fell asleep across the sea, And again we read the story, Though no longer children we. Next, the one who made us love them, Crossed the river deep, to know All the mysteries surrounding Life and Death, our darling "Jo." Now the last, the eldest sister, "Meg" has joined them where Naught shall part the "little women" In that life so bright and fair. Dead — yet living here among us. In the hearts of young and old. Are the four real little women. Of which that story told. 59 "PAUL." I was busy at the office. Work piled up on every side ; Letters by the score to answer, Patience more than sorely tried ; Notices to be "blue-penciled," Proofs to read, receipts to send, Mailing list to be corrected, Till it seemed work ne'er would end. And outside, for once, the weather Was in tune with inside gloom ; Heavy clouds since early morning Let no sunshine in the room. From my window, office buildings Towered high on every side. And across the bridge to Brooklyn, Passed a ceaseless human tide. Passed the people back and forward. As the sea tides ebb and flow. And the pulse of two great cities Throbbed in silent joy or woe, Like a broad and silver ribbon Moved the river on its way, And the highlands in the distance Looked like clouds of bluish gray. 60 "PAUL. "PAUL." But a moment's thought was given To the moving outside world, I was busy at the office On my desk, with sails unfurled. Lay the letters waiting answers, When I spied, addressed to me, A wee package which I opened — A sweet, boyish face to see. Not a card to say who sent it, Not a word to tell his name. Only just a distant postmark. Simply telling whence it came. So I placed the photo' near me, And I called the laddie "Paul," For it seemed the name best suited To the sweet face, after all. Strange the office work grew lighter And the room seemed brighter, too, And success crowned every effort Of my work the whole day through. * * * * On my desk I keep the photo', When the skies are blue or gray. For I think that "Paul," in coming. Brought success to me that day. 6i THE SWALLOWS. Swallows, swallows, playing tag, As they homeward fly. Sometimes here and sometimes there, In the ev'ning sky. Till the clouds up overhead. As they watch their play, Think they'll try the merry game. As they float away. When the sun has said "good night/' Home the swallows go, To their nests among the eaves In the barn, you know. There they rest till morning comes, Then they fly away ; \v^orking hard until the time Comes again for play. 62 THE CHILDREN'S VALENTINE. Into a primary class one day A picture of Cupid found its way ; The elf was dressed in a pair of wings; He carried the darts he always flings, Of course, on the shore a maiden walks And Cupid, the darling, stops and talks. "Cupid's Vacation," the picture fine, The children called it "Our valentine." And they talked about the light and shade. The many lines in the picture made ; They were told that Cupid had much to do In making valentine's old or new. "To shoot," they said, the arrows were for, Which Cupid carried along the shore ; "And what will he shoot?" were the giver's words ; The innocent children answered "Birds." No doubt they were right, for, after all. We're much like birds, though not so small ; And in after years they all will know Why he carries his quiver and bow. The happy hearts of those children gay Will long remember that Valentine's Day. 63 SECOND GIFT SONG. A cube is here, a cube is here, And close beside it is a sphere, A cube is here, a cube is here^, A cyHnder is near. A cube can stand, a sphere can too, A cylinder, what can it do? Oh, that we very soon will show. And then you all will know. A cylinder can roll along. And as it rolls it sings a song; A cylinder can roll along, And sing a pretty song. Its faces, two, are circles round, And it can stand upon the ground, But only careless girls and boys Will let it make a noise. Oh, Mr. Cube has faces six, What would you do in such a fix? Oh, Mr. Cube has faces six, But he must play no tricks. His faces squares, his corners eight, His edges twelve and all so straight, Oh, Mr. Cube we all must know Before we older grow. 64 SECOND GIFT SONG. The sphere it is a Httle ball, And children must not let it fall, The sphere it is a little ball, Oh, do not let it fall. For it would roll so far away You could with it no longer play- So do not lose a merry game And gain a careless name. 65 TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. December 31. "Ah, my son, you cause me sorrow And I fear you'll come to grief ; Now begin by turning over On the morrow a new leaf." Thus a father closed a lecture To his little son of eight ; Hoping that for some improvement, Long he would not have to wait. January i. Bright and early ere 'twas daylight 'Rose the lad (to come to grief), And on all his father's orchids He turned over each new leaf. Soon upon the scene of action Came the father very — sad ; 'Twas this time not moral suasion That he tried upon the lad. January 2. Now the lad is thinking sadly, As he views each broken leaf; If I follow father's sayings, I shall surely come to grief. "When I am a man," he whispers, And he draws himself up grand ; "I will talk so very plainly Any boy can understand." 66 MY LITTLE DAUGHTERS. Would you know my little daughters, Should you meet them on the street? They wear calf-skin shoes like "papa's," On their dainty little feet. Do you think their shoes are clumsy, With the heels so broad and low? With the sole so flat and heavy, Scotch edge and a square-cut toe? Shall I tell you all about them? How they sensibly are dressed? • How their hats are trimmed with ribbon. Not with bird, nor wing, nor breast? All their dresses are of flannel, And they're made to please their tastes, But you'll never find a corset Cramping small their girlish waists. Did I hear you say "old fashioned?" No one ever called them so ; They are straight and strong and healthy; Quite new-fashioned now, I know. 67 MY LITTLE DAUGHTERS. How I wish that all the people Would so dress their girls for health. That our country in the future In their women would find wealth. Wealth of mind and health of body, Strength to bear with care and strife ; Strength in turn to teach their children How to live a true, brave life. 68 "Nay, you cannot keep your anger.' THE PHOTOGRAPH. Why, my little man, so sullen? Why so shy, my little maid? Just that way the artist caught you With the light and shade. Yes, of course, you had a quarrel ! All about some little thing — 'Tis the trivial things that often Leave the deepest sting. There, make up, my lad, be merry, For the maid with eyes of blue ; With her hand upon your elbow, Shyly looks at you. Nay, you cannot keep your anger, Hear what I am saying now, Make sweet peace and let the making Straighten out your brow. Let the sunshine light your faces You may call it just a smile ; Frowns are never nice to look at Even a little while. 69 THE PHOTOGRAPH. And I think if grown up children Had some artist waiting near, Who Vv'ould catch their frowning faces, Frowns would disappear. It is only just a picture Of a lad and shy wee maid Whom an artist caught in tableau With the lis:ht and shade. 70 THE LITTLE MAIDS. Once on a time five little folks lived In houses all in a row ; "Baby" and "Dottie" and "Florence" and "Bess" 'And "Nellie" their names you know. I knew them all in babyhood dress When they said "Ah goo ! ah go !" And whenever I couldn't understand I agreed that it was so. These five little folks, with language strange, Grew a dimpled winsome band Of little maidens, who learned to talk So we all could understand. Five happy households their sunshine filled — Who knows what the parents planned — But one grew restless and wandered away To the brighter, better land. 71 THE LITTLE MAIDS. Years have been hurrying on since then, For not very long ago, I passed four misses with womanly ways, Whom It seemed I ought to know. "Baby" and "Dottie" and "Florence" and "Bess," Ah, how the little folks grow — I musingly thought of the fifth little maid. As they spoke in accents low. Only the names were the same to me. For Time had taken away As surely the four little maids I knew, As the angel one summer's day Had borne the soul of the little mate With whom they were wont to play. What's Life but Death, I thought and then What's Death but Life alway? 72 AN EASTER PRAYER. Give us but strength this Easter-tide To bear from day to day Whate'er Thou deemeth best for us ; For this we humbly pray. If heavy clouds make dark the sky, Oh ! give us faith to see That clouds are better for our growth Than sunshine e'er could be. Help us to say, "Thy will be done," If sorrow be our part; E'en though we're called upon to give The best-loved of our heart. And keep our thoughts from envy, Unkindness and vain pride ; And guide our steps, oh ! Father, Through Life's whole Easter-tide. 73 TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS. September 3rd, 1901. Two babies' hands unveiled the stone, Where first unfurled in battle shone Our flag of thirteen bars, Our flag of thirteen stars, At Cooch's Bridge, in Delaware ; And lo ! defeated there, For on that warm September third, In Seventeen Seventy-Seven was heard No word of cheer for the thirteen stars, No word of cheer for the thirteen bars ; Defeat, defeat, defeat alone. Was all our dear flag knew ; When first unfurled in battle shone Its red and white and blue. 74 "A LITTLE SOLDIER. TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS. Two babies of our glorious land, Two "little soldiers," heart and hand, To live for freedom's cause, In peace, as well as wars ; In life's broad battlefield. To right alone to yield. 'Twas fit that baby hands should raise The veil which hid the stone, whose praise Tells where our Hag in infancy First floated to the breezes free ; Aspire, wee ones, to noble deeds, And keep your wee hearts true ; In future action, future needs. Our country looks to you. 75 OUR RED, WHITE AND BLUE. Oh, Washington's Birthday we hail with de- light— The flags we have made are a beautiful sight — We wave them when marching like soldiers so true — The Stars and the Stripes of our Red, White and Blue, The Stars and the Stripes of our Red, White and Blue. Then, let our glad voices of Washington sing, As we place 'round his picture our flag ofifering, The country he loved, we must live for it, too, Its Stars and its Stripes, our loved Red, White and Blue, Its Stars and its Stripes, our loved Red, White and Blue. 76 BABY AMEE. Baby Amee, the world is wide, The sea of Life has a changeful tide, And oft on its topmost crest we ride Or sink in its depths of despair; But if duty's taken for our guide There's a haven found on the other side Be Life's voyage dark or fair. Baby Amee, the world is bright, There's the sun all day, the stars all night, When all seems to go wrong, 'twill soon go right, If we do the best we can do, We'll find this world to be full of light, And if our duty we never slight, • God blesses our efforts true. 77 THREE LITTLE FOLKS. Three little folks went sailing — Margaret and Herbert and Vee — Many a time to Nodland, Over billowy Byelow sea. 'Twas up and down and down and up, Till they came to a sandy bar, And there stood a man, the old sandman, Loading sand on his old sand car. Three little folks went sailing — Margaret and Herbert and Vee — To the wonderful land of Slumber Where it's quiet as quiet can be. There the dream-lady greeted their coming And smilingly took them away To Toytown and Sugar-plum village. Till the dawn of another day. .78 THREE LITTLE FOLKS. • Three little folks came sailing — Margaret and Herbert and Vee — Back from their journey with bright eyes As merry as merry could be. But their souvenir treasures of Nodland They loaned to the old sandman And the lady of dreams just scattered them By a wave of her magic fan. How often we journey to Nodland As Margaret and Herbert and Vee, And wish for the song of the captain Who rocked us o'er Byelow sea. But the Land of Slumber is sadly changed Now the dream-lady often annoys, Still she keeps as of old her toys and sweets For the wee small girls and boys. 79 HORTENSE. She captures your heart with her sweet Httle ways, She fathoms your soul with her innocent gaze. She's demure as a wren, and shy as a mouse, She takes by storm the whole of the house. She's good as an angel, and oh ! so wise, But 'most any day, when you least surmise, She frightens the baby half out of its sense, Does lovable, mischievous little Hortense. 80 '•HORTENSE." INDIAN PIPE. Once upon a summer evening- Many long, long years ago, When the country knew no pale-face, And the sky was all aglow With the beauty of the sunset, And the earth was clothed in green, Met and talked, two Indian chieftains, What they said will soon be seen. Said the elder to the young chief, "All the battles you have won, We are tired now of fighting. Let our warfare now be done." Interrupted then the young man, Ere the other's voice did cease, "We are tired, too, of fighting. Let us smoke the pipe of peace." Peace once more was made between them. And they took their homeward way ; Crossing stream and mount and meadow, And their wigwams reached next day. Gently then the flower angel, On the spot where peace was made. Placed the very strangest flower Ever seen on hill or glade. 8i INDIAN PIPE. And in June you'll always find it, Growing on the roots of trees, Parasitic, pure white flower, Gives no fragrance to the breeze. From Quebec to Carolina, Westward then to Illinois, Is the limit of its boundaries, Indian pipe for girl or boy. 82 THE LEAVES. Down to earth the leaves came falling From the tree tops overhead, Running after one another, O'er the ground they sped, O'er the ground they sped. Some were brown and some were golden, And the children in their play, Ran among the leaves and shouted "This is fun to-day !" "This is fun to-day !'' Then a big breeze came and scattered O'er the ground some leaves of red, "We will take these home to mother," So the children said, So the children said. 83 LITTLE ELECTA CATHARINE. A little school house stands to-day Beside a country road, Where children climb in wisdom's ways With many a weighty load. Some seventy years ago there lived In a toll-house o'er the way, Little Electa Catharine, Who kept our Arbor Day. A sapling grew close by her home, A maple fair to see ; And this the little maiden claimed And always called "my tree," But alterations in the house, Decreed the young tree's fall, And so the little black-eyed maid Removed it, roots and all 84 • LITTLE ELECTA CATHARINE. And planted it quite near her school, Where sun and rain and air, Year after year, gave nourishment, Till the tree was wondrous fair. For sixty years it pleasure gave To those who sought its shade ; Her children oft have rested there, Her children's children played. Below the school, in summer time. The brook goes babbling still ; St. Andrew's Church is near at hand, Beyond is Tarififville. The tree is gone, yet doth it live In memory, so we say : 'Thanks to the child who planted it, And kept our Arbor Day." 85 MRS. THOMPSON'S STORY. In the winter of seventeen seventy-nine, The provisions so oft were low At Morristown, that Washington And his men would sometimes go "Five or six days" without any meat, Then again days without bread to eat. Thus Washington's housekeeper oft was tried To supply in a proper way, The General's table as she thought It should be supplied each day. But Mrs. Thompson could manage well And her little story to you I'll tell. "We have naught but the rations to cook to- day," One day she complained to the Chief, "Then just the rations you must cook. For this there is no relief, I hav'n't a farthing to give to you," Said Washington the brave and true. 86 MRS. THOMrSON S STORY. "If you please, sir," the housekeeper answer made, "Let one of the gentlemen write An order for bushels of salt — say six — And give it to me to-night." "Six bushels of salt !" exclaimed the Chief, "Please, sir, six bushels to salt fresh beef." The order was given by one of the aides, And Washington's table was laid Next day with an ample supply, for which He thought Mrs. Thompson paid. He sent for her and said with regret : "Already I owe you too great a debt. Our position is not at this moment such To induce very sanguine hope." "Dear sir," Mrs. Thompson then made reply, As she tried with his thought to cope, " 'Tis always darkest before the light ; Forgive me, please, if it were not right. To barter the salt with the people near. To better supply our Chief; They were only too glad to exchange for salt With which to preserve their beef." Was Mrs. Thompson forgiven, think you? I do not know, though the story's true. 87 THE SOLDIERS. See the soldiers standing here ! Nicely in a line, Thumb is general, brave and strong, Pointer's colonel fine. Middle finger, captain tall, Guards the major lest he fall, And the one to give all joy Is the little drummer boy. LofC. 88 WEE MARIE. As I watch wee little Marie, With her sunny, smiling face, And I note her dainty movements, And her witching, winning grace, I can almost fancy angels Are caressing her the while, For the light of heaven's reflected In the sweetness of her smile. When the twilight shadows deepen, Oft I see the little maid Watching for her father's coming, And her watch will be repaid By a kiss and words endearing, And though darkness deepens round, Faith and trust in his protection In her little heart is found. In the years to come, wee Marie, May your childhood faith keep bright, When the shadows of earth's sorrows Seem to hide the heavenly light ; As I watch thee, little Marie, Could one wish be granted me, I would ask the faith of childhood Could be given for aye to thee. 89 TO THE OLD PEAR TREE, TRURO, MASS. Tell me is the story true Which tradition gives of you? "That you sailed across the sea To this Land of Liberty, In the Mayflower long- ago ;" iell me, is it really so? Who of all that pilgrim band Placed you where you now do stand. As they went in search of springs Where the Pamet river sings? In the valley they selected, You've been surely well protected. You are now a goodly sight, And in spring your blossoms white Make you look a mound of snow, On your bark the hchens grow ; Tell me did an Indian maid Ever rest beneath your shade? 90 TO THE OLD PEAR TREE, TRURO, MASS, Forty miles o'er Cape Cod Bay Did the Mayflower sail away ; All but you who came are dead — Speak and tell me what they said, As they planted you that day, Ere they sailed across the bay. Keep your silence if you will You're a grand old landmark still. If tradition proves untrue. Yet is Truro proud of you. Live and flourish in the land By the ocean breezes fanned. 91 TREASURES. She is poor, as poor as can be, Yet her treasures I count most rare ; They're two wee lads, and a lassie bright, For whom she works both day and night ; Their love repays the constant care Given these jewels, so young and fair. Her neighbor is rich as can be, He has money and land and gold ; Yet he goes on saving ev'ry year. And no one loves him, so I hear. His locks are white, he is growing old, Guarding his money and land and gold. I deem her richer far than he, In the love of children and friends. Ah ! why should she envy him his gold? What is it worth when life is told? For into the life that never ends, She'll carry the love of home and friends. 92 BUILDING. One summer day by a mountain lake Two children — Aeneid and Bee ; Piled up the sand and buried their hands And laughed in childish glee. Laughed to see their castles cave in As they drew out each little hand, Then patiently builded them over again In a way less broad and grand. And I thought as I watched these two little maids Of the lesson their building taught, How 'tis best to laugh when our dearest plan Proves a failure and comes to naught. And then to begin in a simpler way, As did black-eyed Aeneid and Bee, For success can but come if we work away With a smile and patiently. 93 A BOY'S HEART. A boy's heart is past understanding, Though win it you can if you try ; Don't think your time wasted nor love thrown away, For your teaching sometime, by and by, When least you expect it a conscience will find, That now seems quite hidden from sight, And the thoughtless and heedless and noisy school boy Will suddenly awaken to right. So be patient and kind, and you'll find you've a key To the boy who seems heartless today ; And remember, no effort to help in this life Will ever be quite thrown away. 94 TOMORROW. "Oh, yes," we say, "tomorrow will do," And we let the present slip by, The word of cheer, some one needs to hear, We neglect to speak, and isn't it queer, We think, when too late, you and I. "Tomorrow will do," and we fold our hands, And to-day glides into the past ; The little deed, for the friend in need. We fail to do, and our put off creed We recall in sorrow at last. "Tomorrow," we say, "tomorrow will do," But to-morrow will never be thine, 'Tis a phantom time, in unknown clime, And does not record one act sublime, Which should have been yours or been mine. To-morrow — but why not to-day let us do The deeds that will lessen some sorrow, And gladden some face and cheer some place? For only acts that will bring disgrace Should be left for the phantom tomorrow. 95 Dec d(^]0Q| DEC 17 1901 BRARY OF CONGRESS iliiiiMiiiiiir 018 604 380 7 I i I I I i i i