/ Class Book T Gopynghtl^!*, COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT L. AuDA Nichols Bigelow. From Sea To Sea COMPLETE POEMS Including FANITA AND CARRISO, EASTWARD BOUND, DELPHINE, CHIMES OF THE MONTHS, SONNETS AND MISCELLANEOUS VERSE By L. ADDA NICHOLS BIGELOW 19 14 T^3 50 ■^ \^^^ COPYRIGHT 1914 BY L. ADDA NICHOLS BIGELOW Free Press Printing Company burlington DEC li 1914 ©aA3879iO TO THE MEMORY OF FATHER AND MOTHER THIS BOOK IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED FROM SEA TO SEA. By the waves of the Atlantic By New England's rugged shore, By the mountains in their beauty With God's sunlight streaming o'er, I have zvritten. By the Great Lakes in their glory. By the rivers singing low, By the dearest old home fireside Where the sweetest pleasures grow, I have written. By the smiling broad Pacific; By flozvers that bloom perpetually. Where impartial nature giveth Her best gifts from Sea to Sea, I have written. 1914. L. A. N. B. FANITA AND CARRISO. An Indian Romance of Southern California. BRIGHT and beautiful Indian, maiden ; With eyes love-lit and heart love-laden, And lightly roaming day by day Through the long foot-path's winding way, Came Chief Cuyamaca's daughter. Came Fanita to the water Where bubbling springs and dashing spray Made music through the summer day. Thus softly stealing, fawn-like, free Forth from her father's broad tepee, Seeking if she might discover Him who proved her future lover ; Many hours in musing spent. Listless where the wild flowers sent Far and wide their perfume sweet; And the lilies 'neath her feet Brought her day-dreams of content ; And hearts grew light where 'ere she went. This spot of all she loved the best ; And when the sun sank in the west. His parting gleams lit up the water And face of Cuyamaca's daughter, With light that's not on sea or land, Or for the heart to understand ; Page Seven And the Great Spirit brooded o'er The fading Hght on sea and shore. O place of pleasure and of rest ; Where nature strove to do her best. Here the Indian tribes gave greeting, Here they held their council meeting, Here all the pow-wows and the race Between the scattered tribes took place ; At such a gathering one glad day Fond Cupid stopped upon his way ; While there, a neighboring Chieftain's son Had in his travels come upon This spot of nature's wondrous beauty, And oft again — but not from duty — He came to greet a maiden's face, The blithe Fanita of sweet grace ; With whom the warrior, tall and straight. The proud Carriso, mingled fate ; i\nd pledged their never dying love Beneath the faithful stars above. Ever alert, and quickly hearing. She knew his welcome footstep nearing ; And by the sweetly flowing fountain, From rocky crevices of mountain. And dashing wildly at their feet Page Eight As if inviting to repeat, They told again the tale of love While the Great Spirit smiled above ; And all things seemed to music set When Fanita and Carriso met. Be white or copper the color-name, The heart's affections beat the same ; And oft is laughter changed to tears, And happiness to anxious fears ; No life however bright and new, But has some shadows drifting through. And so Fanita waited long One day ; and sadder grew her song, Because her lover had delayed His coming, till her heart dismayed Within her sank. But list ; she hears A coming footstep, but her fears Are not assuaged, for it is slow, Not like her lover's, with his bow And arrows, and the wild game sweet To throw in rapture at her feet. O Gitche Manito ! hear my plea, And bring Carriso safe to me! She looks, and lo ; her warrior stands With face grown pale and drooping hands Close by her side ; for he that day Had wounded been amidst a fray. Page Nine With trembling and with much alarm, She gently leads him by the arm ; And coming to their favorite seat By the cool waters flowing sweet, She bathes his head and fevered brow While listening to the story how He wounded came to be; and then She bids him drink, and drink again Of this life-giving beverage pure. Nature's great remedy and cure. Now bringing hope, dispelling fear. The Mission bells are ringing clear Far in the distance ; and recalls The lessons learned within its walls ; And o'er and o'er the anthem swells In music of the evening bells. For civilization thanks they give. And holy teachings how to live ; Thus many were the days they spent Beside the water ; all intent Was brave Fanita, to at length Restore Carriso to former strength. And when at last the glow of health Beamed from his face, 'twas more than wealth. The glad event was celebrated By numerous tribes that congregated To dedicate as sacred water Page Ten The power discovered by the daughter Of Cuyamaca; henceforth a shrine To the Indians' god of medicine. And now the wedding day draws near; The morning breaks in sunlight clear; 'Tis known this day, both far and wide, Fanita will become a bride. And for the feast of several days The clan some spacious wigwams raise. Surrounding which the camp-fires blaze. To welcome neighboring tribes that come; And thus providing ample room Within, without, for rain or shine; For race or rest, as each incline; O proud Carriso ! strong and straight ; No prouder soul did ever fate Bless royally with loving mate. To chieftain's son they honor give, And chieftain's daughter shall receive Rich gifts they bring in wild delight; The choicest beads of wampum bright The fair Fanita will adorn With face aglow like blushing morn ; Bright woven mats and blankets they Bring as mementoes of the day; Page Eleven The swiftly passing hours enhance With many a game and sprightly dance. Composing this luxurious feast, Were choicest fish and bird and beast ; Delicious game all smoking hot, Steamed fragrant from the boiling pot ; And plates refilled, oft passed around To groups on benches and on ground, And myths and legends quaint and old, With reminiscences were told. They smoked the peace-pipe with good cheer. That on each feast day was held dear. Midst ripening of the yellow maize. Crowning the shortened summer days. The joyful wedding feast-days end. But all good-fellowship extend. Carriso and Fanita stand With eyes uplifted and clasped hand ; And listening to the music still Of the clear waters' gurgling rill ; While the sun's last golden ray Lights up anew the parting day. Many, many moons have gone; And many settings of the sun ; Winter's cold and summer's heat Page Twelve Have left dim traces of the feet That years agone had trod the dell, By sacred waters loved so well. O California! rich in praise Of olden and of present days ; Where once were desert weeds o'er grown Thriving hamlets and cities own; Through the Silver and Golden Gate Earth's richest products on thee wait ; While many cities strong and free, Are guarding well the western sea. Long since, the white man, seeking, found This treasure-trove of priceless ground, And nature's medicated water Discovered by the Red man's daughter. They sought for gold; but greater wealth They found in nature's boon of health. The old-time famous mountain spring Now in this present time doth bring The glow of health to faded cheek Who of these healing waters drink ; And pilgrims journey from afar Each year to test its merits rare; This purest gem of western isles, Nestled beneath the horizon's smiles ; And where the birds' sweet melody Page Thirteen Echoes o'er mountains wild and free. The Orange and the OHve groves, The bright and ever blooming rose, The poppies and magnolias sweet, Lining the road to this retreat, Now greet the traveler on the way. And summer holds perpetual sway. This idyl of love is o'er and again Enacted by the children of men, In every clime beneath the sun Where love's romantic thread is spun; And poets sing in every mart. The love-songs of the human heart. The story is told ; laid down the pen ; But it comes to me as I ponder again; The lovely vale, the mountains fair. Are real, and vanish not in air. The winding path, the sparkling stream. Are not an idle, fancy dream. The birds their corals sweet are singing. The distant Mission bells are ringing. Page Fourteen Crown Point Light House, Crown Point, N. Y. EASTWARD-BOUND. JUST as the sun's last lingering ray Was lighting up the close of day, And gilding vale and hill and tower With glory of the sunset hour, I bade adieu to the dear old home, A few short weeks afar to roam. Then seated in a coach of ease, And lightly fanned by summer breeze. Wild fancy at its will did stray, While we to Eastward rolled away. Fast flying almost as the wind. Home scenes were quickly left behind. New scenes to try, new friends to make, Hoping to give as well as take Blessings that make life brighter glow With sunshine only they can know Who live not for themselves alone. But others claims to freely own. And share with one great brotherhood The common ill and common good. Now when the morning sun arose In beauty o'er the hills and groves. We looked with wonder and surprise On nature's wond'rous mysteries, That dwell within Niagara's roar. Page Fifteen In glistening spray and wave-washed shore. Glorious music, grand and sweet ! Mozart can not with it compete; Wonderful picture, made and planned Without the aid of human hand! In every wave, in every line Is seen the Master hand divine. To grand Niagara we bid adieu, And Eastward still our way pursue, Till Rochester's lofty heights appear; If thou seekest enterprise, behold it here! We enter now in the twilight grey, (Thinking of what the Scriptures say Of the savor of salt and of its use,) The wonderful city of Syracuse; And question if Lot's wife passed this way, She'd dare a command to disobey. Schenectady's ancient way-marks passed, To Saratoga we come at last; An Eden new, of beauties rare. Here greets the weary traveler. A few hours' ride and we reach the lake. Of the crowded car our leave we take, With the beautiful steamer ''Vermont," in view O, gracious welcome we give to you. That brings us to our journey's end, For rest, when weary, is our dearest friend. Thus, when the third bright day had passed. Page Sixteen The hand of stranger friends we grasped; But strangers they not long remained, For kindred hearts will beat the same. With them we tarried sweet rest to gain By the calm, blue waters of Lake Champlain ; With them we sought historic ground, And ever-varying pleasures found. The Ticonderoga Fort is seen. Strong reminder of what has been : Now crumbling, speaks of ancient wars, Battles lost and won and bloody scars ; But now the mountains smile in peace. The green fields yield their rich increase ; The cattle wading in the brook, Wear a calm, contented look ; And none would dream that 'ere before Was ought disturbed by cannon's roar ; In all this quiet place around Nature smiles with peace profound. O'er winding creek we crossed the bridge That leads up to old "Indian ridge :" Deeply shaded on either side With cedars tall and branches wide. And as we rode, my friend thus spoke : "Dost see that bare and ancient oak In yonder field alone?" he said, 'Tis called "Put's Oak," of which you've read That ancient oak of great renown. Page Seventeen The monarch of old Crown Point town. We almost imagined we could see The Indians tying to that tree Brave General Putnam ; and then again, Release that came by the bold Frenchman ; And thus in panoramic form Thro' by-gone years the troops are come, While fancy has the power to bring The past to present on pinioned wing. An ne'er to be forgotten hour We spent within the light-house tower, Where the keeper, worn and grey. Had toiled through many a weary day For twenty years, to keep the light Thro' mists and darkness burning bright. How many from the storm-tossed wave. That light has been the means to save. When his pilgrimage here is o'er. May the beacon lights from the other shore. Kept brightly burning by an angel hand, Guide him safely to the spirit land. I had often heard my mother tell Of the "old white meeting-house," loved so well, And closely linked with all the ways, And pleasant thoughts of girlhood days ; And eagerly I sought the spot Page Eighteen w o o w M H W W H M o o CI CO H That's with such hallowed memories fraught. Of the small, old-fashioned window panes, Scarcely a whole one now remains ; And sagging beam and rafter told, As plain as words ''we're growing old." I entered alone this sacred ground, While solemn silence reigned around; Gazing on vacant aisles and pews, And forsaken pulpit, thus I muse: How many in the by-gone years Have sought relief from griefs and cares Within these walls ; and long since fled To join the countless, peaceful dead. How many pilgrims old and young, Glad hymns of praises here have sung. The vacant gallery seemed to stare, And strangely ask, where are they? where? Then trooping up the musty aisles. Now casting shy, bewitching smiles, I see young men and maidens come, To this, their own loved Sabbath home. And hoary age on staff low bent. Has come with longings, and intent To hear from out the holy word, Some message new from their dear Lord ; Their faith to strengthen, and be blest With foretaste of the heavenly rest. Still loth to go, I lingering strayed Page Nineteen In the church-yard near where forms are laid Of generations past ; on stones Grown dark with age and moss o'er grown, I read, with eyes too used to weep. And wonder if the angels keep Their vigils sure through storm and tide, O'er buried treasures scattered wide. No satisfaction silence gives, While mystery in all things lives ; Frail man can only trust and wait, Until within the golden gate. Immortal life shall be attained. And mysteries shall be explained. With feelings of awe I took my way. From the **old meeting house" that summer day. Pondering long on what had been, Wondering still if ever again I shall pass this way in the coming years ; How much intervene of hopes and fears ; Ah, well it is we may not know How much of pain, how much of woe Shall meet us in the future ways. The joy or sorrow of coming days ; But trusting when this life is past. The haven of rest we'll reach at last. How often in the cool of day, Were we inclined to stroll away, Page Twenty Along the shady lakeside road, A half mile from our friend's abode, To a dear old farm-house, nestled there. Among green trees and flowers rare, The home of De Forrest ; he, the good And well-beloved of the neighborhood ; And in all the country 'round. The influence of his life is found ; Through long and weary years of pain, A helpless sufferer he has lain, And many seek his bedside there, His words of faith and trust to hear ; And thus in seeming solitude. He preaches to the multitude. An ardent admirer of genius, he, [n every art and industry ; And can of writers modern and old. The peculiarities of each unfold ; And then with judgment true, descry The value of each with critic's eye ; In the realm of books he wanders free, A passionate lover of poetry ; And oft to while away the time, I said for him some simple rhyme Like this I penned one Sabbath day While musing in a quiet way : Page Twenty-one LAKE CHAMPLAIN. O beautiful waters of Lake Champlain ! That I've so longed to see, For in the days of long ago My mother dwelt by thee. O lovely mountains that bound thy shores, In lofty grandeur rise; Thy summits seem to almost reach And kiss the vaulted skies. The lights and shadows o'er thy brow In fitful radiance play ; So like the joys and griefs of life. So like life's fleeting day. i And still I gaze upon thy face O Lake, to me so dear, For the love of her who loved thee well [ In life's bright morning here. ^ The boats that glide upon thy waves Have all a charm for me; And the crumbling Fort of old Crown Point Speaks volumes of history. Page Twenty-two Fort Frederick — Crown Point. Fort Ticonderoga. I'll cherish these scenes within my heart, And take them as I roam, To the dearest spot in all the world. To Michigan my home. I related how one morning fine, A boating party numbering nine. Sailed from Port Henry; lovely port! To "Camp Idylwilde" at Seven Mile Point. A picnic party, with dainties rare All stowed away with wond'rous care, In quantity as if t'were sent To feed a hungry regiment. No pains were spared, but all was done To make this day a happy one ; And for its pleasures we mainly owed To one Evangelist, well beloved For all his constant toil and zeal. That Christ to men he might reveal. He talked of life that is to be As boundless as eternity. Then o'er the silvery waters rolled Glad songs of Zion, new and old. And something of the holiday, I told De Forrest in this way: Page Twenty-three CAMP IDYLWILDE. Othou lovely and quiet retreat ! By nature richly blest ; Our boat has glided o'er the waves To seek thy peaceful rest. We leave all cumbering cares behind, To bask beneath thy shade O noble cedars tall and grand, That rule the leafy glade. O stately rocks, that stretch their arms High o'er the ragged ledge, O'er nature's stairway winding down Close to the water's edge. The waves low dashing at our feet. Doth sweetest music make, And murmuring softly seem to say, 'Tis all for love's own sake ; To cheer the weary and the sad, We sing our ceaseless songs ; To lift their drooping hearts to Him, To whom all praise belongs. Page Twenty-four An ever eager listener here, Is dear Grandma of sunny cheer, And life as bright as morning sun, Tho' she's numbered summers eighty-one; Long may she linger yet to bless This dear home with her cheerfulness ; While each one of this household, we Will cherish with fondest memory ; Whatever path in life we take, This bond of friendship naught shall break. For weeks we lingered this side the lake, *Ere we of friends our leave did take, And new scenes and recreations sought Among the mountains of old Vermont. And here, of friends, we found a score Whom we had never seen before; And now their welcome missives bring Glad memories that fondly cling Around the heart's most sacred shrine.. That knows no distance and no time. O Green Mountain State ; so rich with all Thy marble quarries, great and small ; How much of wealth the earth yields thee. And yet 'tis shared from sea to sea ; And sister states thy wealth partake, And in return send thee as great. And thus are nature's riches poured O'er all the earth, not all are stored By one or few ; but common good Page Twenty-five Is given a common brotherhood. Thy mountain scenery rich and rare, And beauty of thy lakes I share ; Thy lovely forests of evergreen, Thy mountain pines of glowing sheen, Bright pictures make on memory's wall With pencil colors indelible. To the year eighteen hundred eighty-one, Many strange events have come; Among them we witnessed the dark day* That all o'er New England held sway. The birds, believing it was night, Refused to sing and ceased their flight ; A strange, weird light thro' darkness shone. Strangely all things it reflected on. The same phenomena in lesser degree, As the dark day of seventeen hundred eighty; When Abraham Davenport, with form erect. Arose in the Legislature then met. And to Connecticut's Law-givers said : If this be the time when the sea yields its dead, And great judgment day of the Lord of Hosts, I propose for one, to be found at my post ; And as the day assumes night's mien, 'T move you bring the candles in." Thus saying to all : Do your best. Then faithfully wait and trust the rest. ♦September 6, 1881. Page Twenty-six I touch the old-time battle place Of Plattsburg: and from thence I trace My way to St. Lawrence; and linger here A few short days with kindred near. And o'er Deer river our boat we glide In the calm hour of eventide; And constantly find something new For restless feet and mind to do. To the place of interest that loudly calls, In and around dear Brasher Falls, I gladly hasten and learn the ways, And hear the tales of early days, From the lips of one of its pioneers, Now calmly past his four score years ; Who pitched his tent in this same place When it was one vast wilderness; And made the richness of the land Abundance yield to labor's hand. I tread the same old paths where trod The loved ones, now gone home to God. I quench my thirst from out the spring Whence they quenched theirs ; the murmuring Of the clear waters bubbling o'er. Seem echoes from the unseen shore. Now amply paid for all in quest. Toward the glowing, golden west. My thoughts, my anxious thoughts are found, For now at last, I'm homeward bound. Page Twenty-seven Seek we for pleasures far or near, Search we for treasures 'ere so dear, Nothing so near the heart will come, As tender thoughts of home, sweet home. From the transient one of our pilgrim stay, We look for the home that fades not away. 1881. DELPHINE. Note: For some of the thoughts and incidents contained in "Delphine" I am indebted to Rev. George H. Hepworth and Bishop Breyfogel. L. A. N. B. HERE flows the smiling Manistee Leisurely onward toward the sea ; And winding through the hills along, Fills all the valley with sweet song Of rippling waves that smile and kiss Its own green banks with nature's bliss ; Until at last it pours its charms Into the broad Pacific's arms. Now mirrored in its depths so clear The fleecy, floating clouds appear ; And toward the setting of the sun Upon a summer afternoon, A glowing picture one oft sees Page Twenty-eight Reflected from o'erhaiiging trees From farther bank, like gleams of fire, — Naught's left of beauty to desire. Its waves doth many secrets keep For those who dream and those who weep ; And 'neath the bridge so grey and old Hath heard the story often told Of love and grief, of pain and loss, So deep that nothing but the Cross Of Calvary could heal and bless With its own balm of tenderness The weary hearts that long and wait The opening of the unseen gate. Dear Manistee ! for aye flow on ; The pride of one small country town. That nestles by thy purling stream, Among the hills where poets dream ; And where life's nobler after-thought Outside the world of strife is wrought. Here where the wheels of labor sound, And honest thought and peace abound, And laborers with the sinewy hand And stalwart frame respect command. Fair Delphine lies. What memories flame At mention of this cherished name ; Of faithful friends of other days Who dwelt among these quiet ways. Page Twenty-nine And by the social, bright fireside Exchange of thought new themes suppHed. Thus while around the cheerful fire The huge logs burned still higher and higher And threw such genial glow apace As lighted up each eager face. One friend by full consent had gained Name of **the Master" ; for he reigned Unconsciously and with sweet zest ; His years outnumbering the rest ; And from the love-light in his eyes Bespoke a nature meekly wise. Of him it was devoutly said, Who much of God and nature read: "His present seems a dream to be, The future his reality." A younger and a growing light See in this fireside group at night, George Markham; pastor in the place; Whose creed is written in his face ; And you could read it from the start : "Heaven and earth not far apart." One person hard to be described. Who of full measure had imbibed Of gospel truth, of wit and grace. And in the group held central place. Page Thirty A man who spoke in homely phrase, Uncultured, only in the ways Of heaven-taught truth ; a speaker bold, Who won the hearts of young and old, David Rook; gardener and friend. Whose common work serves highest end. One of this club of five we see A business man of high degree; While from the city for short stay Had to this fireside found his way. And let us now acquaintance make With one McColl; all for the sake Of others who like him may roam. In darkness, and to light may come. Invigorating breezes flow Through trees of pine, inviting so The seekers after health to try The simple remedies that lie In change and rest ; thus some have come To make Delphine awhile their home ; And list to woodland music free Beside the rippling Manistee. This guest, McColl, a sadness wore ; Oppressive grief was brooding o'er Page Thirty-one "You'll talk ten minutes more or less, Then give it up for other theme, Or some more visionary dream." "Nay, nay, my friend, but rather I Had thought discourse to multiply ; The theme so vast now on my hand Seems wonderfully to expand. Now my belief, as you may know, Is in two worlds united so, Though one the other cannot see, In speaking distance they may be." Then from his library shelf he took A well-worn, unpretending book. And from its pages to him read A little story, which, he said, Expressed his faith. It runs this way: There is an island, so they say, Inhabited by fishermen In low rude huts ; and often when Through fog and mist they can't discern Their own loved dwellings, nor dare turn Their boats too near the rocky shore, Their voice in song is wafted o'er ; Then wives and sweethearts take again The next verse of the sweet refrain ; And thus they know, though all unseen, That no great distance lies between; Page Thirty-four And they can well with patience stay Until the mists are cleared away. "I can't accept it," hoarsely said His guest, and sadly shook his head ; "The theory sounds well to read, But can't be true; ah, no, indeed!" ^'But, friend, supposing it were true, Would it not be worth much to you? And do you not think it worth while To study it, and thus beguile Your weary hours of grief and pain, And from it consolation gain? And find it not unreasonable, But, rather, true and beautiful ? If we can't rend the veil and see, It's no less true that there may be. Not far away, the other shore. And heavenly greetings wafted o'er ; Beyond our human eyes to reach. Or human ears to hear the speech ; But faith can see, and faith can hear, And thus bring unseen treasures near." A gleam of hope a moment shone Across his face, and then was gone; With grasp of hand he said "Good night,' Then passed into the street from sight. Page Thirty-five Now once a week, it was agreed, This friendly "Club of Delphine," freed From all restraint, should meet and share Each other's thoughts, and notes compare. The parsonage to be the place This genial company should grace; And from the pastor's study flow Rich blessings after years should know From "speaking meetings," if you please, Where each one felt at perfect ease. Discussing social topics when Seemed drawn that way, and now and then Of politics they took a view, All with good nature through and through. But mostly valued time was spent On higher themes, with the intent To help McColl, now in the night Of unbelief, to clearer sight. And one strong element to guide Was David Rook, who could divide The living truth in homely way ; He sent his arrow swift to stay, Until beyond all argument His simple faith had gained assent. "Too much theology," would say Our gardener quaint and in his way, "And not enough religion found. Sometimes to hardly go around. Page Thirty -six About the creeds Christ Httle said, But very much of love instead." The Master silent sat the while, And nodded with approving smile. McColl then spoke : "I'd like to know, If you've a God that loves us so, Why He should such afflictions send, And weight of burden that it bend And crush our very life apart, And wrench and tear the human heart Till hope is dead, yet death won't come To free the soul with anguish dumb. Then you on love and faith expand ; I surely cannot understand A faith so blind; but wonder, doubt. Concerning things past finding out." "Well, now," said David, "let me tell An incident remembered well ; Crossing a lake, some time ago, A fog and mist had settled low And thick about ; we could not see Across the deck, and thought that we Were in much danger, when I went To see the Captain and give vent Unto my feelings of great fear; Where he was standing I drew near : Page Thirty-seven 'Are you not going at full speed?' 'Certainly, my friend, there's need That I on time the trip should make ; No cause that I the record break.' 'Is it not dangerous?' I ask; For recklessness took him to task. 'I care not for the fog,' said h^ 'The compass is our guide at sea ; Always by that our course we take ; 'Twas never known to make mistake ; Through fog and mist, through night and day. The needle always points one way.' 'And can you tell me why 'tis so ?' 'I surely can't, nor do I know, And never yet have heard of one Could tell just how the work was done.' 'And yet you trust your life, and feel Secure with that one bit of steel?' 'Yes, every time; because I know It's o'er and o'er been proven true; Hundreds of years it has been tried. Has never failed, has never lied. The mighty ships the waters plow. Laden with wealth from stern to bow. And trusted to the needle's eye, Not knowing the wherefore nor why; We trust what we can't understand Each day we live, on sea or land.' Page Thirty-eight Thus spake the Captam. I withdrew, Knowing that what he said was true." McColl sank back into his chair, Silent, but with more hopeful air ; George Markham stirred the waning fire. And while the sparks and flames rise higher And fill with cheerful light the room, Their conversation they resume, Led by the Master ; and with him The business man of mirth and vim The company oft entertained, And thus the interest never waned. The moments swiftly fly, and when The clock rang out the hour of ten, They rose to go : each one possessed A growing friendship for the rest. And David thought, but left unsaid — 'To-night a cornerstone's been laid." 'To-morrow's sun shines on to-day; Thus easily we climb the way That otherwise so rough and steep Our feet from stumbling could not keep. 'Tis just ahead we look for rest, That makes the present stand the test; And so with dauntless courage we Press on to final victory." Page Thirty-nine Thus spake the Master when around The hearth again the Club was found ; The thoughts that led to these remarks Were like the scattered flying sparks Brushed off when in the grate we turn The log to make it brighter burn. Each one contributed a share To make the hour a profit bear To one and all, each in his sphere, And thus the moments brought good cheer. They talked of ruling kings of earth. Of fame and wealth, and what they're worth. Then, running o'er with gratitude, Spoke David in his joyful mood: "My friends, I doubt if you can guess The wondrous riches I possess ; The beauty of the world is mine, The multitude of stars that shine. The moon with all her silvery light, And all the glories of the night ; The woodlands and the birds of song To me without reserve belong. Ah, yes ! I own the Manistee," Continued David, cheerily ; ''The scenery along its banks I take and give the Father thanks ; And all the range of hills that rise. And over which the sunshine lies; Page Forty While through the trees the crimson glow Lights up the peaceful vale below. With all the wealth of Croesus I Could not one-tenth these beauties buy That now I take as gift so free From God's own hand of love to me. They're mine to hold while life shall last, Then mine a heritage more vast. In Christ's last will and testament To me the blessed news was sent That to immortal life I'm heir, Within the many mansions fair Where He's prepared for me a place, And I shall see Him face to face. Thus to a blessed home in heaven To me a title deed is given ; A document no court can break ; Sealed with His name and for His sake Who on the Cross of Calvary Hath purchased this great wealth for me. This postscript doth the will attend: 'Lo, I am with you to the end.' To David Rook the deed stands sure To mansions that for aye endure, Who dwells at present in Delphine, To him's addressed each precious line. O friends ! can you now estimate The value of my great estate?" Page Forty-one George Markham smiled, for well he knew The words came from a heart that's true. But we shall equal heirship claim All in and through the one great name, He said ; and thus the talk ran on Until the time was almost gone, And with reluctance must adjourn; But not until the coffee urn With steaming beverage passed around And glad recipients had found. As when the faintest streaks of light, At early dawn, foretell the night Is fast receding, and the Star Of Morning shines above the bar Of growing crimson that will soon Be lost in the resplendent noon, So with McColl 'tis break of day ; The shadows lift, and far away, Though dimly, he begins to see The meaning of faith's ministry. "That we've a Friend," the Master said, Always in reach, has comforted More hearts than eloquence of prayer Addressed to One we know not where. The Man of Sorrows, knowing grief, Can best give human hearts relief ; Page Forty-two And, perfect made through suffering, Can unto others healing bring; Who triumphed in temptation's hour, Can to the tempted give Hke power ; And since with Christ the victory Was gained in dark Gethsemane, More than his miracles to us His earthly life and lifted Cross Whereon He paid redemption's price, The one great living sacrifice ; And thus to heaven was made complete The path where trod His sacred feet. His footprints through the ages trace That storms of centuries can't efface ; And in His steps whoever will May find the pathway shining still. Through prayer unuttered or expressed The prayerful heart is always blessed, And feels the Christ so near to them That they can touch His garment's hem ; To trust the leading of His hand A little child can understand." George Markham breathed a low "amen"; McColl the same repeated; then, With heart o'erflowing at the word, David added : "Yes, praise the Lord 1" The Master's line of tender thought Had to the mind of Markham brought Page Forty-three Some promises that always shine From Revelation's sacred mine; And so before his friends he brings The outline of his ponderings. To him that overcometh, I With hidden manna will supply ; To him that hath an ear to hear The Spirit ever speaketh clear ; And they that understand shall own A new name written in white stone, Which no man knoweth saving he To whom's revealed the mystery ; The simple token of a friend That one the other doth commend. With rich embellishment is fraught Each wide-extending Scripture thought. When those in ancient Athens tried Acquittal gained, 'twas signified, And dicast's verdict was made known, Just by the white and unpierced stone. When each in turn his thought expressed, With growing interest manifest, David, in his peculiar way And emphasis, went on to say : "The world will never think the less Of those who live what they profess. 'Tis grander far, my friends, to do, Page Forty-four Than merely to believe what's true. On truth that's practical the Book Has ever taught the world to look. So each strange face that meets my view, I simply think, I hope that you Are one whose swift and willing feet Are for the dear Lord's use made meet ; On mercy's errands oft will go, And thus your love to Him will show. Much of our sorrow we forget If busy for the King we're kept." "O, is it true?" said, half aloud, McColl, as low his head was bowed; "I really think I've selfish been, And can He count it less than sin ? To turn about 'tis not too late. Tor lo,' One says, T knock and wait.' " Whispered Markham : ''His promise claim, And yours the white stone with new name." A moment's silence; when they drew Their chairs the fireside close to. The master led them in his way To view a picture by Dore That once he saw. With pictured word Their hearts with admiration stirred ; And when, within the gallery led, Page Forty-five The canvas he before them spread, So plain he made it they could trace The heart's desire upon each face. "The Vale of Tears," — thus vividly Shows forth life's sad reality. The background dark, which is immense, A shadowy valley represents; And at the entrance, clothed in white, The Savior stands, with form upright. Bearing a cross ; and with one hand Upraised; by which we understand Is invitation; arched around His head, soft rays of light are found. Thus symbolizing as we see Hope's presence even here may be. The middle and foreground are full Of a great number typical Of weary, heavy laden ones, From beggars e'en to kings on thrones. A king in glorious cloth of gold Turns in despair, and to behold Beseechingly Christ's face; and near Him stands a Roman Emperor, Whose brow still bears the laurel wreath. With toga stained with blood beneath, From heart-wound by his enemies Inflicted through mad jealousies. The maimed, the halt, the blind are there; Page Forty-six A dying mother to His care Commends her child of tender years, With pleading look and flowing tears. On solitary shelf of rock Despised and hated lepers flock ; And from whatever depth of loss, All look to Christ and to His Cross. Without a word of comment made Upon the picture thus portrayed, And made indelible within The mind of each, they now begin Their hats and overcoats to take, And with a hearty, warm hand-shake The club adjourns ; with a "good-night" They step out in the clear starlight. God works through men ; and they who heed The great commission find indeed A satisfaction that extends And is complete in this : His friends. And he who lifts to purer air Of heaven a soul in deep despair Does work as high as angels do, And through a means they never knew. 'Tis thus McColl has dared commend His life unto the world's best Friend ; And from the faith-light in his face Proves heaven a state as well as place ; Page Forty-Seven That near by is the heavenly home Where loved ones wait for him to come. By consecration full, all doubt Has from his heart been taken out, And heaven's all transcendent light Has swallowed up his darkest night. While his frail body still declines The help of breezes from the pines And from the hillsides that surround Dear Delphine ; and while he's not found What here he sought that would make whole His earthly frame, yet for his soul He's found the rest longed for and sweet, The rest eternal, full, complete ; And eager expectations shine Within his eyes words can't define. How pleasantly and swiftly passed The weeks ; and this must be the last Fond meeting, when the Club adjourns. Each guest unto his home returns Upon the morrow ; so they this eve Mostly to reminiscence give. And hardly now do they begin When light refreshments are brought in ; The fragrant coffee and the tea, Emblems of sociability ; And thoughts of parting find no place Page Forty-eight To mar the evening's cheerfulness. An added interest, by the way, This meeting holds ; 'tis the birthday Of David Rook, who cheerily Proclaims that he is sixty-three; "In hailing distance now, almost. Of yonder shore and heavenly host." Congratulations all extend To him, their much respected friend ; Whose noble, open, manly face Would banish gloom from any place ; Who never let his left hand know Of aught of good his right would do ; But often said, "Nothing is small ; All things are great, for God made all. That life," he said, *'is much like this, I think, except that I shall miss My rheumatism over there. And that, I know, I well can spare ; And heaven's rest will be more dear For pain and loss we've suffered here." ''Since coming here I'm led to see All work is honored equally If honest and well done" — thus spake The man of business — "and I take Fresh courage, since 'the Master' said Religion and business should be wed ; Pape Forty-nine That they are like the different strands Of one strong rope; and if it stands United thus, it surely would Uphold the world and make it good. On church and warehouse God bestows An equal blessing ; and so those Who work in either must believe An equal recompense receive; And what is preached on Sunday must On Monday be a sacred trust. All service true is for the Lord, And always brings its own reward." "Speaking of service," Markham said, "When but a child I often read And loved the legend sweet and old Of good St. Christopher, the bold, Tall giant at the river's side, Where flows the mighty rolling tide ; And neither ford nor bridge is found To help the pilgrims hither bound All on their way to Rome ; no lack The faithful find ; for on his back Each one St. Christopher bears o'er The waters deep to farther shore. Prevailed upon he could not be To ever take the smallest fee When to the Holy City they Found help from him upon their way. Page Fifty When in the service he'd grown old, One night, as winds blew fierce and cold, A plaintive voice and of a child Rang out upon the air so wild : *0, dear, good Saint, I thee implore To carry me the river o'er.' Though weary and in need of sleep, Nothing could from his loved work keep This faithful one; and so he takes The child upon his back, and makes, With staff in hand, as oft before, His passage to the other shore ; But when mid-way the waters through So very great his burden grew, And heavier, till he almost sank Before he reached the farther bank. Great drops of sweat began to pour From off his brow as ne'er before. At last, with staggering footsteps, he Has reached the shore, and tenderly Upon the bank he places now The child ; when lo, around his brow Beams suddenly a radiant light! The Savior of the world that night He carried on his shoulders broad, — The world's weight with the Son of God." Page Fifty-one "Only a legend, but we find In it a golden truth enshrined ; That humble service meaneth much, And bringeth heaven and earth in touch ; And he who for his fellow cares Thus serves the Lord, though unawares. Dearer than legend to you and me Christ's loving wayside ministry, Of which he bids us all partake, The work continue for His sake Who of His best gave to the few. Or only one, as like unto The lonely woman at the well, Who straightway doth the glad news tell. In all His weary journeyings The word of life He always brings, That each lone wayfarer may find In him a friend most wondrous kind." "Ah, yes" then spake McColl, "and me, Like blind Bartimaeus, makes to see; And He who at the midnight hour To Nicodemus with such power The truth proclaimed, shall one day greet The whole glad world brought to His feet." Now with these words a silence reigned Until their thoughts the heights attained. And then, to break the magic spell Page Fifty -Uvo Of thoughtfulness that on them fell, The Master says : "There comes to me To-night a scene most vividly Of nature's untold grandeur vast ; An impress made while life shall last. When through the Alps of Switzerland We journeyed, a congenial band. We climbed the glaciers with a guide; To him and to each other tied We made the slippery, steep ascent ; But slowly, firmly as we went. Our guide a chiseled niche would make To place his foot, and bade us take Great caution, and to put within Each niche our foot where his had been ; And thus our safety guaranteed By giving to his counsel heed. When at the height of ice and snow Our guide cried out, 'Now look below. And at your right !' The great abyss Of foaming waters seethe and hiss, And, dashing o'er their rocky bed. Thousands of feet beneath our tread, A dizziness bring to the brain ; — When 'To your left, look up !' again Our guide pealed forth ; a lofty height Of granite mountain met our sight ; Thus firm, unmovable and grand, Page Fifty-three It seemed like grasp of unseen hand To save us from the depths below, Where feet unguided else might go. And in the midst I pondered thus : That gulf, temptation is to us, Whose mighty waves would overwhelm Had we no Pilot at the helm. The mountain at the left, God's truth, A tower of strength to age and youth ; A sheltering rock in desert land, A refuge that for aye shall stand. Its depths all goodness underlies ; Its summit reaches to the skies. To find life's goal a surety is To place our feet where Christ placed His; And in His footprints safely climb Above the changing waves of time." The fire burns low within the grate ; Our social friends have lingered late ; And when, with slow, commanding power. The clock peals forth the midnight hour. The Delphine Club again adjourns; Each to his separate way returns. 1900. Page Fifty-four BORROWED. THE deepest thoughts ne'er find a voice Till touched by sorrow ! The sweetest music on the earth From grief we borrow. The grandest truths that find a place On written pages Are found within or borrowed from . The Book of Ages. The clouds that send refreshing rain In bounteous portion Give back what they have borrowed from The mighty ocean. Naught stands alone and separate In full completeness ; The fragrant flower must yield to use Its honeyed sweetness. New light from out the old-time truths To-day is springing; And echoes from the distant past Through earth are ringing. Page Fifty-five As it has been, so it will be, And each to-morrow From out the golden yesterdays Makes haste to borrow. 1885. A LOST OPPORTUNITY. IT came and went so quickly, My sluggish soul saw not The Master stand and beckoning Toward one of humble lot. And I rose not up to follow, So slow was I to see. Till the help I might have given Forever fled from me. And often I am grieving, And longing all in vain For a blessed opportunity That will not come again. Dear Lord ! give Thine anointing, And make mine eyes to see ; And make me swift in doing The work Thou givest me. 1892. Page Fifty-six A DOVE AT CHURCH. A True Incident. THE morning prayer was ended; And as the pastor read Of the fulness of God's mercy, And the loving words Christ said, Then tenderly applied them As a remedy for sin, Lo ! at the open window A little dove flew in. At the pastor's feet alighted. And looked up in his face, As if with approbation ; And sacred seemed the place. O'er all the congregation A solemn stillness fell; Each tender heart was melted By the calm and holy spell. And then amidst the reading The pastor paused and said : May this dove be an omen Of good unto us led ; Page Fifty-seven As a message to this people, Sent from the Father above, As a token of His pleasure And everlasting love. Thro' all the morning service The dove as sentinel stood By the pulpit and the altar, An interpreter of good. After the benediction, Lightly flew the bird, And rested on the shoulder Of him who preached the word. From thence upon the pulpit, On the Bible perched at last ; And gently watched the people As they slowly outward passed. So like the calm that follows After the storm doth cease. Comes the spirit as a dove, With the olive-branch of peace. Page Fifty-eight JESUS PASSED BY. A famous man of letters sighed O'er many a problem deep, To which he'd given days of toil And hours of needed sleep. The only world he knew was books, And not the world of men ; Thus human pleading reached him not, Nor human woe nor pain. While bending o'er his weary task, And lifting not his eye, Lo ! all unheeded and unseen The loving Christ passed by. And still he digged and delved to solve Unf athomed mystery ; While all the throbbing world moved on, Nor paused his work to see. Some fainted 'neath their burdens great For cheering words unsaid ; But still he plied his heavy task With bowed and reverend head. Page Fifty-nine And dreamed not that the secret dwelt In the multitude so vast, And in the heart of grief and care The loving Christ had passed. The rich man counted o'er his gold, And longed and grasped for more; And every day was added gain To his ever growing store. The months and years roll swiftly by With an unvarying speed ; He never dreamed, with all his wealth. That he was poor indeed. And while he piled his treasures high. And counted one by one, Behold a stranger fair had passed, The Christ had come and gone. So one and all, on some task bent, We look not up, but down; In raking earthly dust and straws See not the lifted crown. Thus blessed opportunities Fail to attract the eye. And all unheeded till we feel That Jesus has passed by. Tage Sixty SUNDAY MORNING. EACH Sunday morn proclaims a risen Lord ; An oft recurring Easter day of light; And o'er the quiet rural village rests Heaven's sweetest benediction at the dawn Of this God's holy day. And when the sun, Advancing in his course, the zenith nears, The church-bell chimes call to the house of prayer. No rich, no poor, but all with one accord As members of one household here unite In worship of the one great God of love. And with the organ's ringing tones are joined The voices of the worshipers in hymns Wedded to tunes that shall forever live, And will be sung till time shall be no more ; Dear "Arlington" and "Coronation" grand, That stirred the souls of saints of long ago. Then in petitions at the throne of grace The pastor pleads for blessings on the flock : Have any wandered from the fold away? Have any never known the love divine? Are any weary with their load of sin? It was for such the Shepherd gave His life. Page Sixty-one O bring them back within the fold to-day, To rest beneath the shadow of the Cross ; And evermore Thy name shall have the praise. The Scripture reading then the silence broke : "Let not your heart be troubled," came the words, The blessed, tender words from John fourteen; Through centuries sweet comfort have they brought To souls distressed ; and to the longing heart Glad promises of "many mansions" fair. Through panes of tinted glass the sunlight streams And sheds a mellow light across the pews ; Lights up with peace the face of hoary age. And little children smile beneath the rays ; While every face bespeaks deep gratitude For blessings past and blessings of to-day ; True witnesses of God's unchanging love. Now toward the sacred desk all eyes are turned For text recorded in the Book of books ; When lo, from John fourteen the pastor reads Christ's words : I am the way, the truth, the life. "I am the way." No other way is known Wherein earth's pilgrims safe may journey on Through sorrow's night or wild temptation's storm Page Sixty-two And reach at last the endless joys of home. "I am the truth." The question that of old Perplexed the sages oft is answered here Complete and full. Who knows the Christ knows truth ; Then doubt no more, O troubled heart, but find In Him the mystery solved and be at peace. *T am the life." What is so dear as life, Or promise sweet as life that never ends? Rich gift from Him who died but rose again, And thus forever more hath power to say "I am the life." With closing hymn of praise, And with bowed heads the benediction given, The people pass from out the sacred place. One service less on earth for them to share; One morning nearer to the courts above ; A little nearer to earth's journey's end ; And nearer loved ones lost from sight awhile, But loving still. O blessed Sabbath morn! We hail thy peaceful hours and hallowed joys ; The calm that reigns o'er nature's wide domain; In pleasant pastures green the cattle graze, And groves are ringing with the song of birds. The bending forests and the blooming fields Page Sixty-three Do but show forth the wisdom and the power That formed their grandeur and their beauty gave. The azure sky through fleecy clouds looks down ; The day-star shines and over all is peace. "THE SWORD OF THE LORD AND OF GIDEON." 'T^ IS night; and the hosts of Midian •*• Are down in the valley asleep ; Their strong men dreaming of victory — Of glory they're waiting to reap. Down in the valley of Jezreel, Asleep; and their shields and spears Are glistening now in the moonlight, With naught suggestive of fears. With their plunder and camels about them, The Midianites take their ease ; Nor dream of approaching danger, Or of God's allwise decrees. Page Sixty-four O never did Mount Gilboa Stand witness to such a sight! — To so large a host stand sentinel, As on that eventful night. But now the decisive moment Brings a small but conquering band ; And over the hills and valleys Sounds forth the startling command : "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon !" Rings out on the clear night air ; With lamps and pitchers and trumpets, Lo ! Israel's army draws near. Only the faithful three hundred ; But sufficient to scatter the foe; With God and the right in battle. All the enemy's ranks lie low. Behold ! the signal is given : "Blow ye the trumpets !" 'tis done ; And with the strangest artillery The soldiers of Gideon won. "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon !" We may hear the call to-day ; While the sound of the Gospel trumpet Peals forth to prepare the way Page Sixty-five For the coming and for the reigning Of the Prince of Righteousness ; For the vanquishing of all evil, And the blessed dawn of peace. The brave are summoned and sifted, For not in numbers lies strength ; But they whom the Lord hath chosen Shall garner the harvest at length. The few, like Gideon's army, With Jehovah hath e'er sufficed ; And the earth becomes the kingdom Of our Lord and of His Christ. INASMUCH. INASMUCH as time is fleeting, And eternity is long, Inasmuch as many sorrows Intermingle with our song, We would better grasp the moments, Use them as they swiftly fly. Making of them sheaves all golden For the harvest by and by. Page Sixty-six Inasmuch as good and evil Wait each spirit at demand, Inasmuch as many falter, Missing oft the guiding hand. We would better lend, if may be, Our small aid while they are nigh, It will help to make the reaping Sweeter in the by and by. Inasmuch as 'mong life's roses There is many an ugly thorn. Inasmuch as pain and pleasure With each human soul are born, We would better pluck the roses, Though the thorns may pierce us sore. We would better claim the treasures, Make them ours forevermore. Inasmuch as life is ever Filled with conflicts fierce and strong, Inasmuch as truth will sometime Surely vanquish all the wrong. We would better help to hasten On the glad and joyous day; It will make the resting sweeter If we labor while we may. Page Sixty-seven Inasmuch as great achievements Only can be won by few, Inasmuch as earthly laurels May not come to me nor you, We would better do what labor Daily meets us at each hand. Nor be idly waiting ever For some greater to command. Inasmuch as we have rendered Good unto the least that be, "So, indeed," says Christ the Master "Ye have done it unto Me." What reward more great or mighty Need we ever hope to win, If with this most gracious welcome, Pearly gates we enter in ? THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE. THE days are so short, said the toiler; It's hurry and worry and fret ; And the prize that waits my coming Remains in the distance yet ; There's no rest for the brain so weary, No rest for the aching feet ; Page Sixty-eight But they tell me on fame's high summit The earth-life is made complete ; So I work and worry and struggle From early morn until late; — A voice beside him spoke softly, The Angel of Patience said 'Wait/' The days are so long, said the idler ; This world's a dreary old place ; There's nothing here worth the taking, There's nothing but time will erase ; Even my dreams bring no pleasure, A sham is the world of mankind ; Thus idly I wait for the ending Of the farce where the players are blind; This life is a great disappointment, And failure in all things doth lurk ; — A voice beside him spoke loudly. The Angel of Patience said 'Work.'' The days are so sad, said the mourner. The world's full of sorrow and grief ; All in vain do I look for the day-break. And continually sigh for relief ; No joy do I find in the spring-time. Nor beauty in summer's full bloom; The earth is a great barren desert. Naught's real but death and the tomb; Page Sixty-nine The clouds hang so heavy above me, There's surely more darkness than day;- A voice beside him spoke sweetly, The Angel of Patience said "Pray." The days are so full, said the faithful ; And let them be short, sad or long, ril do the best thing that's next to me. And cheer all my labor with song ; This dear old world's full of beauty. The harvest is fruitful and fair ; In waiting and working and praying, I surely will gather my share To lay at the feet of the Master In yonder bright heavenly home ; — A voice beside him spoke gladly. The Angel of Patience said "Come." WORDS MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME. DREAMING to-night in the firelight's glow, Sweet saintly faces come and go. And through the years come softly stealing The tender words my mother said. As she nightly kissed and tucked me Close within my trundle bed: — Page Seventy ''Now darkness shades the distant hills, The little birds are hid and still ; And we a quiet sleep may take. For our Creator is awake." The childlike song my spirit thrills, — "Now darkness shades the distant hills ;'* He who keeps the birds from falling Keepeth thee through fear and pain ; And then soothingly and softly Comes her gentle voice again : "'Tis sweet upon my little bed To think the Savior guards my head ; And He a helpless child can keep Through all the silent hours of sleep." I backward turn the leaves and look At the first pages of life's book; And now as then her words repeating : "And He a helpless child can keep," I calmly rest in childhood's faith "Through all the silent hours of sleep." "Now darkness shades the distant hills. The little birds are hid and still ; And we a quiet sleep may take, For our Creator is awake." Page Seventy-one THE BENEDICTION. ^^f^ RACE, mercy and peace," the pastor said, ^J At the close of the Sabbath day, "Be with you now and evermore." And the people went their way, From Sabbath rest to week-day work ; And I wondered if the spell Of the blessed benediction given Would guard their footsteps well From dangers seen and unseen oft That crowd a busy life ; Would the blessed peace of the Master calm The fever and the strife? "Grace, mercy and peace," three living words Of sweetness and of power; O linger with us evermore, As on the Sabbath hour ; "Grace," that giveth strength, when fails The help of human hand ; 'Teace," that calms the troubled heart. Ever at Christ's command ; "Mercy," that cometh from above. Earth's weary ones to bless, And spreads o'er all its healing wings, The wings of tenderness. Page Seventy-two CHIMES OF THE MONTHS. A day is hut a little time, A week's but little more; And sweetly chime the months and years That span life's ocean o'er; And tho' they seem to swiftly flee, The minutes make eternity. I JANUARY. THO' cold without, within 'tis bright, And cheerily glows the great firelight ; A sacred place is the dear home spot, And winter has joys that summer has not. Then blow ye winds, for what do we care, Tho' the grass is hid and the trees are bare ; While laughter and song and jests go round No happier place on earth is found. For father and mother most heartily Join in the children's songs and glee ; Till the old clock strikes the evening sped, With a good-night kiss all hie to bed. The lights are out, the house is still ; Only the wind is whistling shrill, While quick and sweet the young hearts go Down into dreamland soft and low. To older hearts sad memories come Of lights gone out in a distant home ; But who forward look to joys on high That wait in the home of the "by and by." Page Seventy-five FEBRUARY. THE sun from over the distant hills Rises to bid us good morning; And says to winter, now aged grown, "Of approaching spring take warning." For soon your snowy robes will melt, And all your icy gorges ; While nature, ever faithful still, Is working at the forges. Each season, welcome in its turn, Its allotted task performing ; As spring's forerunner we greeting give, Bright February morning. Page Seventy-six MARCH. A LTHOUGH the wind is blowing chill, ^»' And close we wrap our mantles, still The sun behind the cloud shines through. With promises forever true. A violet nods its blue-capped head, And peeps from out its winter bed To tell us that the spring is near, And bid our hearts be of good cheer. Page Seventy-seven APRIL. LAUGHING, tearful, saucy April ! How you do deceive us ; You make us think that summer's here. Then you almost freeze us. Thus, true to life, you represent Changeable condition ; But in the rosary of months Sweetly fill your mission. Page Seventy-eight MAY. SING to us, winds of this bright May day, In breathings soft and low ; Sing of the land of the far away, Where our weary and loved ones go. Sing to us of the spring eternal, Of day that brings no night ; Beautiful May with breath supernal, Borne on the wings of light. Sing us the songs of joy — not sorrow — Of peace, and love, and rest ; That echo back from the glad to-morrow. From the hill-tops of the blest. Page Seventy-nine JUNE. MONTH of all the year the fairest, With foliage and flowers the rarest ; Nature spreads her charms complete While glorious spring and summer meet. The roses in full dress appear, To crown the June queen of the year ; The waving grain nods an assent, And adds the crowning complement. Emblem of man and womanhood; The noon of lif e ; the greatest good To win and give, to do and dare, To toil and strive, and victory share. All hail ! oh sunny month of June ! Thy farewell must be said too soon; But let thy brightness linger near And shed a light thro' all the year. Page Eighty I JULY. THE noontide heat oppresses ; naught is heard To break the stillness of the sultry air Save the low song of the distant reapers ; Or a mother bird cooing to her mate O'er an empty nest ; the inmates all fled To grow and expand in a world-wide sphere. The daffodils have long since passed away, Their places give to summer blooms. The sun Now fades from sight beyond the western hills. The day is done ; and the cool evening air Resounds to the merry song of harvesters. Page Eighty-one OCTOBER. THE trees put off their dress of green For that of red and gold, Fair Nature changes oft her garb, But never once grows old. In spring, renewed by winter's sleep, In autumn, grown mature; From these, new strength and vigor reap, More firmly to endure. Thus, human hearts 'mid changes oft : Anchored in love and truth. Thro' all the coming years shall live In never ending youth. Page Eighty-four NOVEMBER. SWEET Indian summer and winter Meet in the old-time way ; The former soon bidding adieu, While the latter comes to stay. A nation's grand Thanksgiving Crowns late the autumn days; And ever shall stern November Receive our meed of praise. While the fireside warmer glowing, With joy and mirth shall ring, 'Till winter's hoary garments Shall melt in the warmth of spring. Page Eighty-five DECEMBER. O, joyous month of all the year All snowy robed and bright ; The month of Christ's nativity; And dawn of glorious light. And wafted down the ages still, The angels* song we hear ; And "peace on earth forever more" Shall greet the listening ear. Peal forth your joy, O, Christmas bells ! The earth shall aye remember The wondrous gift to all mankind Makes glad a bleak December. Page Eighty-six THE YEARS. A year, to childhood, oh, how long ! Will it ever come to an end ? Will the days and weeks and lingering months Their silent march extend, As slowly on thro' the years to be As now they move? ah me, ah me! A year, to middle age, how short ! So quickly come and gone ; Oh, that the hours would move more slow, For the work that must be done Ere the years of our life shall come to a close, And we earn the last and long repose. The present mingles with the past, And silently steals away ; To childhood slow, to manhood swift, But surely and for aye; While the deeds of our lives with hopes and fears. Are stored away with the garnered years ; To reappear at the eventide, When the sunset gilds the lea, And a backward look reveals how brief Is life ; ah me, ah me ! But there is unending life and song. And eternity is long, so long. Page Eighty-seven WORDS. "For 1)y thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shall be condemned.'' Matt. 12:37. WORDS are such little things and yet so great Their influence is far beyond compute ; They bring forth praise or make the strongest mute; Deep love by them is won and endless hate. Words lead to deeds, and come they soon or late, And good or ill they surely will bear fruit, Bitter or sweet invariably will suit The ends that from the thoughts originate. Stupendous things are words! oh, weigh them well; Life is too short when once on outward wing To e're recall them to the harbor where They first saw light, and left the secret cell Of some tired brain, ever to wail or sing, Forever onward like the flight of prayer. 1895. Page Ninety THE MEETING OF THE MAGI. (From '^Ben-Hur/') ''Now when Jesus was "born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, "behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,, saying, where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.'' Matt. 2:1, 2. •'T' IS noon, and o'er Arabia's desert sands •■• A faithful dromedary makes his way, The pensive rider now dismounts to lay The noon-tide meal 'neath tent from distant lands. With head bowed low in prayer and with clasped hands He thanks the Father that he sees this day. Then peering in the distance sights the sway Of beast with pilgrim, and his heart expands With joy, to view his looked-for guest draw near ; Balthaser, the Egyptian, greeting gives To him from Hindustan. Another one, The third, a learned Greek, doth now appear ; All by the star are lead ; each trusts, believes And jorneys to the shrine of Mary's Son. 1896. Page Ninety-one MIDNIGHT. "Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.*' Ps. 19:2. ALMOST as grand as noonday sun, now shines The placid moon, high in the heavens to-night. Enfolding earth with calm and silvery light, And with solemnity of thought enshrines Our very soul, until it scarce divines Whether the spell be earth or heavenly might ; Transfixed, we gaze upon the splendor bright That shrub and flower, that tree and dome en- twines. Midnight ! grandeur of silence we behold ! While o'er the sleeping world the moonlight gleams, In likeness to the land where streets are gold ; Whence comes the inspiration of our dreams ; And listening hear the angels' song of old That wafted o'er Judea's hills and streams. 1894. Page Ninety -two ON THE HUDSON. ''There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God.'' Ps. 46:4. THE early Autumn sun casts mellow rays, As down the broad and placid stream we glide ; And golden-tinged, the mountains in their pride Majestic rise to guard the river's ways. In recollection long the traveler stays Amidst the beauteous scenes on either side ; While history and legend still provide To make intense the grandeur nature sways. Fair hamlets nestle close in shady nooks That reach the water's edge. And oft to break The stillness of the scene, peals loud and clear The whistling locomotive as it crooks And winds round cliffs its rugged way to make, Then swiftly in the mountains disappear. 1896. Page Ninety-three PAST NOON. ''As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. "For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.'' Ps. 103: 15, 16. ''My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle.'' Job 7:6. AND can it be the noon of life is passed ? I am a child at heart, and time stands still ; At rosy dawn of life we roam at will, For o'er the years agone a charm is cast. And youth, if so 'tis willed, shall ever last, And all life's noon and evening-time shall fill To overflowing, as the laughing rill Sings and flows on toward the ocean vast. Our life is measured not by days or years. But by the deeds we've done or left undone, And by our hopes, our sorrows and our tears. Our life is long or short at set of sun ; But counting life by years, ah, soon, too soon. We sadly say our life is past its noon. 1894. Page Ninety-four OMISSIONS. "Inasmuch as ye did it not." Matt. 25:45. FOR words we might have said but did not say, For loving deeds undone in other years, Your eyes and mine oft look thro' blinding tears ; Since loved ones left us lonely by the way ; Vanished so silently, one long, sad day. And now earth's curtain hides from other spheres, And memory holds the sorrows of the years. O words and deeds, why didst thou thus delay? So much left out of life that should have been Woven within the web to make it fair And firm and bright in beauty all complete; And yet we trust, though marred and warped by sin. The Judge in tender pity will forbear When at the last we lay it at His feet. 1895. Page Ninety-five COMMISSIONS. "And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.'' i John 2:1. O careless words we should have left unsaid ; O thoughtless deeds we should have left undone ; We long when it is all too late to run And right the wrong where once our footsteps led, Among the might-have-beens forever fled. If we could but erase the page whereon We blindly wrote — the blurred and tear-stained one — We'd make the record fair as any read. If we could just leave out what pains us so And mars the picture that our human hands Unskilled have tried to paint, and trembling know The copy it resembles not, but stands With all its blemishes before our view, We vainly wish we might begin anew\ 1895. Page Ninety-sicc SPRING MELODIES. *'The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing 0/ tirds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land." Songs of Solomon 2:12. CLEARER than organ tones or sweet guitar, When nature wakes to bloom the early spring, And all God's choir of feathered songsters sing, Flows the rich melody o'er earth afar. Their throats, all tuned to glowing rapture, are O'erfiowing with the melodies that bring The thoughts of peace and joy on outspread wing, And faith inspire where doubt and sin would mar. Sweetly they sing till late the shadows fall, And naught they seem to know of weariness ; Then at the first faint hint of early day, Their carols sweet peal forth, encircling all Our waking hearts with life anew to bless, Inviting us to join their grateful lay. 1894. Page Ninety-seven "SONGS IN THE NIGHT." ''Yet the Lord will command his loving kindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall he with me" Ps. 42:8. SONGS in the night ! songs in the night ! when sleep Refuses oft the boon of rest to send, Solace of song doth o'er the spirit blend, And beauties new unfold, when shadows deep Shut out the light of day, and vigils keep ; Then to the weary soul shall far transcend The songs of night to those of day, and lend A calm to pain, and cool the eyes that weep. Songs in the night ! songs in the night ! oh, come And linger oft by every couch of pain. In life or death the victory impart. If here they wait or speed to heavenly home; In either case in Christ 'tis only gain, Who satisfieth every longing heart. 1894. Page Ninety -eight MT. AUBURN. "Oo the way of all the earth; he thou strong there- fore, and show thyself a man." I Kings 2:2. ''Behold therefore, I will gather thee unto thy fathers, and thou shalt he gathered into thy grave in peace." 2 Kings 22:20. O sacred flowery paths that wind around The quiet resting places of the dead ; O voiceless city where in awe we tread, In honor of the singers that have found In thee the peace that doth supreme abound. More lasting than the marble at their head, The inspiration of their page world-read. And making this a place of holy ground. O sweet Mount Auburn ! while we linger still. We breathe our thanks that such have lived and died; That ever onward in a ceaseless flow, Their living thoughts the coming ages thrill With purpose true that shall for aye abide ; And thus our earth to heaven shall nearer grow. 1896. Page Ninety-nine WINDS OF NOVEMBER. ''The wind hloweth where it listeth, and thou hear- est the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it Cometh, and whither it goeth.'' John 3:8. NOW sadly sigh the winds through leafless trees, That lift their long bare arms in helplessness, As if imploring aid in dire distress, Like some sad soul adrift on dreary seas ! A sense of loss on every passing breeze Steals o'er my heart, for treasures have grown less, And round about my path an emptiness ; The cold wind moans and with the loss agrees. O human life ! at once so full yet void ; O memories ! that cling to present tasks, O mysteries ! all veiled to human eyes. Wherefore are hopes so ruthlessly destroyed? Though all unanswered yet the soul still asks, Then waits the revelation from the skies. 1894. Page One Hundred BLESSED. ''Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.'^ Matt. 5:7. O blessed are the eyes that can not see The faults that common are to all man- kind, Blessed the eyes to imperfections blind, (May such be given, dear one, to you and me) But quick to see the beauty that makes free And glad the revelation all may find, Who search with faith and charity combined, For present good and that which is to be. O blessed are the feet that willing run On mercy's errands to the sad, oppressed ; Blessed the hands that lay not burdens on Earth's weary ones belated and distressed; Blessed the lips that speak the cheering word, By love inspired through Christ the living Lord. 1896. Page One Hundred One TO THE RIVER CHARLES. "A man that hath friends must show himself friend- ly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." Prov. 18:24. HISTORIC stream ! within thy depths I gaze, And strange, fond thoughts come to me o'er and o'er Of many that have wandered on thy shore ; Of one who sang of thee in other days, And from his sweetest thoughts expressed his praise ; And not his praise alone, but what is more, His heart's true love to thee he did outpour In memory of three friends* who loved thy ways. O River ! silent flowing toward the sea, Longfellow's pen has made thy name secure On lettered page a favored word to be. And with the poet's name for aye, endure ; His face no more is mirrored in thy own ; Thy waves receive from him no answering tone. 1899. ♦LongfeUow's three intimate friends, Pelton, Agassiz, Sumner. Page One Hundred Two CHRISTMAS. ''For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.'' Luke 2:11. THE sweetest word contained within the song The angels sung one night so long ago, That vibrates now the many centuries through, Is peace, sweet peace, oh, still the strain prolong Till good-will rules entire earth's troubled throng ; Till weary hearts its deepest meaning know, And bless the source from whence all blessings flow. And keep the Christmas joy remaining long. Far in the East there shines a heavenly light, Lo, earth's dark night is breaking into day ; The shadows flee before the Prince of Peace ; And He of whom the prophets caught a sight, And saw in Him the only living way, Has come to bring the fettered soul release. 1899. Page One Hundred Three EASTER. '7 am the resurrection, and the life: he that be- lieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." John 11:25 Oday of days ! oh, glad, best day of all ! When life immortal triumphs o'er the grave ; Completing thus redemption's work to save From sin and death, that would the world en- thrall ; Proclaiming Him the victor, who at call Left His high throne of majesty and gave Himself, no other great and pure tho' brave, Could bear the burden and redeem man's fall. O ring, glad Easter bells ; your music pour O'er all the earth, and consolation give ; For Christ is risen ! repeat the story o'er. And man, yes man, forever more shall live; There is no death ; the Lord is risen to-day ; From every grave hath rolled the stone away. 1896. Page One Hundred Four CONTENTMENT. ''But godliness ivith contentment is great gain." I Tim. 6:6. QEEK it, oh, soul! it may be thou wilt find ^ Sometime, some far glad day, the treasure rare That never yet was thine; do not despair Tho' fate denies it thee till eyes are blind That once were bright with hope ; the gold refined To twice ten times its wonted lustre fair, Can not with this rich gift of heaven compare In value which outweighs all joys combined. Contentment ! oh, what peace the word implies ; Contentment ! soar thou not beyond our reach ; So incomplete without thy presence here Seems all our life ; the goal to which we rise In our vain dreams, doth but the lesson teach That thou alone canst bring the two worlds near. 1899. Page One Hundred Five A WINTER AFTERNOON. ''Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter.'' Ps. 74:17. EQUAL in splendor to the spring-time's glow, Is this, tho' brief, bright winter afternoon ; While seems the sun to hurry all too soon Adown the western skies ; and sinking low, Its parting gleams through leafless trees doth throw A beauty o'er the landscape, and attune All things to harmony, as perfect June Crowned queen of summer doth her gifts bestow. And now the light reflects on low headstones And marble shafts that in "God's acre" stand ; Emblems of rest to weary souls at last ; And pointing upward unto heavenly thrones. Speak through their silence of a better land. Whither the tribes of earth are gathering fast. 1899. Page One Hundred Six BIRDS. '*Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten "before Godf" Luke 12:6. WITHOUT the birds what would the wood- lands be? The flowers would wear a lonely look if they Should wake some morn and miss the joyous lay From songsters that have filled the air with glee. Without the birds, — how sad the thought, — ah, me; In vain would strive all nature to look gay ; No joy in spring if robins were away. And winter drear without the chickadee. Dear gifts from God! flown out from his own hand. Scattered abroad o'er field and hill and stream, To bless the world with hope, and faith in- spire. Their song of gratitude fills all the land, Turns weary care into a bright daydream, Takes from the soul its doubt and lifts it higher. 1899. Page One Hundred Seven THE NEW YEAR. ''Thou crownest the year loith thy goodness; and thy paths drop fatness." Ps. 65:11. WHAT does the new year hold for you and me, We ask ; the portals swinging outward stand Inviting us to tread an unknown land ; The tasks awaiting us we may not see, Enough for us to know they will not be More than our strength to meet the sure de- mand That day by day revealed and near at hand Shall lighten till we greet them joyfully. Along the New Year road will roses grow, Likewise the weeds, and we may take our choice Of which we gather as we pass along. To good or bad, God still permits to flow A free-will power; we sigh or we rejoice, And make life's years a burden or a song. 1902. Page One Hundred Eight MY CHOICE. ''The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handiwork." Ps. 19:1 WHAT picture do you love the best of all, That ever Artist's hand did paint with skill In colors bright or softened tints that thrill Your very being oft as you recall The wondrous lights and shades that seem to fall So lightly from the Artist's brush, and still Speak of the patience that must e're fulfill The great demand and pay the price — not small — That genius asks of all her children dear? Which picture do you like the best, and why ? By any painter, high, low, far or near. That thrills the soul with joy or brings a tear? My choice is on the canvas of the sky ; A sunrise in the spring-time of the year. 1903. Page One Hundred Nine THE FIRE UPON THE HEARTH. ''The fire shall ever be 'burning upon the altar; it shall never go out." Lev. 6:13. O brightly glows the fire upon the hearth Within my neighbor's kitchen, so close by I raise my shades in early morn that I May catch the inspiration and the worth Of homely cheer, good-will, and sparkling mirth That gives the day a goodly start ; for why Should hearts be sad when light is in the sky And on your neighbor's hearth? if yours shines forth In unison with theirs and nature's own. As in the ancient time the altar fires Each morn replenished went not out, but shone An emblem of the life that love inspires ; So faith can see through sorrow and through mirth, The fire of hope burn brightly on the hearth. 1903. Page One Hundred Ten SUNSET LAND. '' Therefore thy gates shall be open contintiaUy; they shall not be shut day nor night; that men may bring unto thee the forces of the Gentiles, and that their kings may be brought.'' Isa. 60:11. AND now the sun in splendor sinks to rest Beside the Golden Gate in evening's glow ; In that far land where gentle breezes blow, And summer rules the year supremely blest. Thou canst not, wanderer, in all thy quest A place more Eden-like e'er hope to know Than this fair spot that charms the traveler so, Of roses in perpetual beauty dressed. Beyond Sierras' snow-capped heights where rolls The broad Pacific in the sunset land ; The land of palms, high reaching, stately, free; Where rythmic songs of waves with songs of souls Keep step with time through onward marches grand. And where the "green cross"* looks upon the sea. • J, *J^ large cross of evergreen trees on the mountain- side by Joaquin Miller's home, Oakland, Cal. Page One Hundred Eleven A MEMORY. "Behold, at the hank of the river were very many trees on the one side and on the other." Ezek. 47:7. NO stream so fair as that which glided by Our childhood's sunny home. No banks so green In all these after years were ever seen As those on which we strayed, so broad and high ; No trees or flowers e'er looked toward summer sky On hills so bright or shady vales serene As dear Grand River sang its way between ; Search as we may, we find not, nor need try. There oft the Indians came and pitched their tent; And named the little village Saranac ; And baskets wove, and fished along the banks. Where blushing red the sweet thorn-apples bent. As all these early scenes to me come back, I clasp the pleasant memory with thanks. 1903. Page One Hundred Twelve TRIUMPH. ''Now thanks he unto Ood, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ." 2 Cor. 2:14. BUILDS and rebuilds the faithful bird its nest, When thoughtless hands destroy the prec- ious home; No time it wastes to sigh or idly roam ; But works until triumphant it shall rest. And so the dauntless spirit in its quest Knows no defeat, though often it may come, No entrance finds or solitary room Within a life with pure ambition blest. Who does his best shall at the last prevail ; And count the failure blest of yesterday, Which giveth strength to a determined will. Then work, though oft it be thy fate to fail ; Amidst the battles lost along the way Be it thy power, oh, soul, to triumph still. 1903. Page One Hundred Thirteen BEYOND THE SUNSET. DEAR Grandma sits in her big arm-chair, And two cherished friends are ever near ; Her Bible and knitting, companions meet For a face so calm and a life so sweet. Swiftly the needles go 'round as she knits, With smiles and words of cheer, as she sits In her own loved corner ; while all o'er the room Her presence sheds light and summer bloom. From her heart rises incense of grateful prayer To the Father above for His constant care ; For food and raiment, for home and friends ; For last days brightest as her journey ends. And now as the twilight hour draws near, The children gather, sweet words to hear From her dear lips, out the Book of books ; And their interest is seen in their earnest looks. For they say she knows every word from cre- ation Clear down thro' the book of Revelation ; Such beautiful stories they prize more than gold, Of the prophets and kings and martyrs of old. Page One Hundred Fourteen Dear Children; she says, as often before, As she opens her treasures of golden lore, I've been reading in this blessed Book to-day Of a beautiful country far away ; Far beyond the sunset's golden dyes. Beyond the glory of the western skies ; And a gleam of the city comes down to me, As its light reflects on the Crystal sea. While reading and dreaming in this old arm- chair, I've almost imagined that I was there, In that land that hath no need of the sun. Nor moon nor stars to shine upon ; For the Lamb is the light thereof ; and they Who dwell therein go never astray. And fast they are gathering from east and west, From north and south, to this land of the blest. The rich and poor, the high and the low, All are one in the kingdom of Christ you know ; And some thro' great tribulation have come. Their robes washed white, and safe at home. Friends long parted there meet again, And join in the chorus : 'To Him that was slain." For the portals of Heaven are open and free Through the offering made on Calvary. Page One Hundred Fifteen I And now dear Johnie, and Katie and Nell, My earth-life is fading ; I soon shall dwell In that longed-for home ; oh be faithful and true, For I shall be watching and waiting for you, 1876. FAREWELL TO 1876. DRAW close thy curtain, dear Old Year! Around the wrong, the sigh, the tear, That oft has marked thy months and days In clouded and mysterious ways ; While sorrow's banner darkly waves O'er saddened hearts and new made graves, Now buried be all loss and crime, And covered with the mantle Time. But joyous days as well as drear. Have often marked thy pathway here. The great Centennial of a Nation's birth Reveals its glory and its worth. Many have come from foreign lands. With friendly greeting clasped glad hands ; And own that still their aims are one With every nation 'neath the sun. Draw close thy curtain now, Old Year! Behold the New already here; But let the sunshine peeping through, Still bless the Old and light the New. Page One Hundred Sixteen HAVING OR NOT HAVING. WHAT if the world is pressing, And seeking wealth to gain ; What if they grasp the treasure, Shall I murmur or complain. Because I can not boast Of pockets filled with gold, When alas, so soon of all The parting will be told ? Ah no ! this fleeting life Will soon be over past ; Then having or not having. What matters it at last? What if my dwelling here Is but an humble home; While perhaps my neighbors Claim yonder palace dome; The same narrow earth-bed Is waiting them and me. We'll share the same mansions In yon eternity ; For we know this brief life Will soon be over past ; Then having or not having. What matters it at last? "Page One Hundred Seventeen Give me but pleasant smiles, And grasp of friendly hands, With loving thoughts and deeds, And keep your houses and lands ; I ask not earthly wealth, But true wealth of the soul, The more it gives it has, And is by faith made whole. For all our earthly wealth Will soon be over past, Then having or not having, What matters it at last? 1877 FAITH. THERE are three angels, strong and bright. Who guide the true of earth ; And tho' they love the haunts of men, They are of heavenly birth. The first in this blest trinity Is Faith ; and without this The other two would fail to lead In ways of perfect bliss. Page One Hundred Eighteen Where 'ere you see Hope's smiling face, There Faith has been before ; Wherever Love an entrance makes, Faith first must ope the door. For who could love his fellow man Without first faith in him? If not for this the future would Remain a pathway dim. It unlocks the door to human hearts, And proves the powers therein. It grasps all deep and hidden treasures. The real though unseen. It points from earth's long weary day To endless rest above ; It draws aside for us the curtain Where dwells eternal love. We'll keep this guiding angel near Till left to sight alone; When we shall see as we are seen, And know as we are known. Page One Hundred Nineteen HOPE. HOPE ; thou bright and morning star ! We catch thy glorious beams afar, And bring thee near ; The Hght that doth in darkness shine, We hail thy mercy all divine, Thy presence here. When on life's sea we're tempest tost, And 'neath the waves are almost lost, Hope's anchor bright Shall chase the darksome clouds away. And bring the golden dawn of day That follows night. The sad and sorrowing ones of earth. Thou lead'st to joys of holier birth Than here are found ; We leave the things that are behind, And forward press with eager mind. With one glad bound. We grasp the fruit on eden's shore, And wonder, praise and wonder more That we so long Page One Hundred Twenty Should cling to gloomy days when past, And many drear forebodings cast Instead of song. There is a sphere where Hope doth glow, When fades the light, and all below In darkness seems ; Then to the winds our doubts we give, For 'tis a blessedness to live In the land of dreams. Immortal Hope ! steadfast and sure ; Firm as the rocks shalt thou endure When time's no more. In everlasting youth arrayed. In the land where flowers never fade. The evergreen shore. LOVE. LOVE ! thou greatest of the three Blest ties to mortals given ; The richest treasure earth has known, The dearest theme in heaven. Page One Hundred Twenty-one Thou art the sure foundation stone; All without thee, alas, Become as tinkling cymbals are, Or like the sounding brass. 'Twas Love that called from yonder throne The brightest heaven could give ; And Love the great atonement made. Through which the world shall live. 'Tis Love that soothes the troubled heart, That wipes the falling tear ; That bids the shadows quickly fly, And brings the sunshine near. Sweet charity ; that oft doth save A wayward soul from death; That hides a multitude of sins, And softly whispering saith : There yet is hope for thee, through Him Who sendeth gentle rain Upon the just and the unjust. On good and bad the same. That all may know one God doth reign, Whose nature all is love ; Till His will be done upon the earth As it is by angels above. 1877 Page One Hundred Ticenty-two SARANAC. HOME of my childhood ! in my dreams I'm with you as of yore; I view again your hills and vales, — Grand River's lovely shore. And mid the scenes of other days I'm roaming at my will ; Gathering flowers by the river's bank, Listening to the water mill. I grasp the hand of old-time friends In imaginary meeting: And may I wake some day to find It real in happy greeting. With untiring feet again I climb To the school-house on the hill ; I con the lessons with those I loved. So dear to memory still. The play-ground throngs with youthful forms, All full of life and joy; Thro' memory's hall their voices ring, That time can not destroy. Page One Hundred Twenty-three Where are they now, while thus I muse ? I hear thro' the twiHght dim : Some are in the world's great strife, And some are gone to Him, Who giveth His beloved rest, When burdens are too great ; And blessed welcome unto such, At Heaven's golden gate. Yes, many years have past and gone ! Full many a change has come ; But still my heart doth cling to thee. My early, cherished home. 1878 GROWTH. ALL rare and lovely flowers that grow, Come through a process long and slow. To their maturing; The golden rays of the summer sun, The gentle showers one by one. Must oft lend a hand 'ere the work is done. Their growth securing. Page One Hundred Twenty-four But the weeds grow up as it were in a day, With far less use of the sun's bright ray, Or patient wooing ; And these immortal souls of ours, Thro' a process long like rarest flowers. Rise to bloom in radiant bowers Of noble doing. 1878 COME BACK TO ME, OH MUSE! COME back to me, oh Muse! why slumberest thou so long? Come to my heavy soul, new life awake ; Of a sunnier clime may I fresh visions take, And in the land of poesy grasp new power of song. The earth is full of beauty, the air of mystic strains ; If the spirit, sight and sound doth not with- hold; And thro' the mist and darkness the pure gold Of truth doth glitter, and echo forth its sweet refrains. Page One Hundred Twenty-five Through all doth mystery reign; in it we live and die ; Ah, which is more mysterious, life or death ? And does life end when ends this fleeting breath ? Stop, doubting heart, and list while all things make reply, And with united voice affirm, that all things live ; That life begun can never, never end ; That heart with heart in fellowship doth blend. The unseen with the seen, and inspiration give. And this we know, that He who rules with supreme power. And in the human soul strange longings set. That here or there, somehow they must be met; And can His noblest work be creatures of an hour ? 1879 Page One Hundred Twenty-six TO GRETA. On Her Third Birthday. DARLING Greta ! may you know Naught of care or sorrow ; But may the angels bring to you Many a glad to-morrow. And in the years that are to come May thy soul lose none its beauty ; But may it be your highest aim To walk the path of duty. 1878 IN MEMORY OF REST thee, weary pilgrim, All thy earth work o'er; Free from care and sorrow, Rest thee evermore. In thy Father's kingdom, In thy home above, Where the storms ne'er rageth, Rest thee in His love. Page One Hundred Twenti/seven SERVING. THEY serve their Maker most and best, Who serve their fellow man; For works do more than gilded words To fill His wondrous plan. And he who does a kindly deed, Said Jesus tenderly, To any weary child of earth. Doth do it unto me. Oh blessed truth, and all sublime ! O noblest form of prayer ; Inspire our hearts with holy zeal. To live and do and dare. 1878 Page One Hundred Twenty-eight ON VISITING THE CEMETERY AT SARANAC. After many years again I tread Your walks, oh city of the dead, That's ever dear to me ; Years with precious memories fraught, The wondrous changes time has wrought, What might have been and yet is not Makes Hfe a mystery. Cherished names of my life a part. Graven on stone and on the heart, Oh names so dear to me ; I read again and repeat them o'er Till echo wafts them to the other shore, And re-echoes a plaintive ''nevermore," O death thou mystery. I pause beside a fresh made mound. And sunny thoughts come gathering 'round, O may they linger ever, Of her my school-mate friend ; for years We had not met; but when all tears Give place to joy, in holier spheres We'll clasp glad hands forever. Page One Hundred Twenty-nine Side by side lie the young and old, Resting alike life's story told With heaven's brightest number; We grasp the future when angels may Roll the stone from the grave away, And we stand in the light of eternal day To love and praise and wonder. They are not dead ! our friends of old ; In the sunny clime of the upper fold, — O blessed exaltation ! They wait us each with sweet surprise. In the glorious land beyond the skies ; We'll share with them the glad sunrise Of all our expectation. 1878 Page One Hundred Thirty THE NORTH TO THE SOUTH. "Let Brotherly Love Continue." We have heard your cry of anguish, We have heard your wail of woe, From the sunny southland coming, To where the northern streamlets flow. To your sad despairing message Swiftly speeds the answer back ; Gifts to cheer and soothe and comfort Follow quickly in its track. While we pray the all-wise Father Death's hand to stay, our brothers spare; We'll not forget that while He hears He bids us answer our own prayer. May this wide scourge that so demands Our aid and sympathy to-day. Forever bind in brotherhood, Forever blend the Blue and Gray. "Written at the time of the yellow fever pestilence in the south, 1878. Page One Hundred Thirty-one THE CROSS. AS the sun rises out of the darkness of night * And over the hills of the morning, With all its beams of golden light, The earth in beauty adorning : So into the saddest heart that beats. Borne down with grief and sorrow, Comes the hallowed light of the Cross and brings Glad hope of a brighter morrow. Beneath its healing shadows rest Earth's pilgrims worn and weary, A refuge sure from heat or cold On every pathway dreary. To youth and age, to rich and poor, To the unlearned and sages, It comes with light and saving power. And brightens with the ages. 1879 Page One Hundred Thirty-two LONGING. For voices that we long to hear, For footsteps that will ne'er draw near We've listened long ; And the words of cheer we'd bring, And the notes of joy we'd sing, Die in our song. For the sunny smiles of cheer That greeted once our coming here, We wait in vain ; And the hard routine of life We dread with all its anxious strife To take again. Page One Hundred Thirty-three IN MEMORIAM. Amos P. Nichols. O winds of summer! whisper low Your requiem o'er the dead ; Alas, the death-angel hath visited us, And joy from our home has fled: How drearily the days go by, For Father's gone. And sad and lone We watch with tear-dimmed eye, But watch in vain his coming here ; — We listen for his footfall. And the welcome ring of the garden gate ; But sadness is over all. Ah me! we know not how well We love our own Till they are gone. Then vainly strive to tell. The old arm-chair now vacant stands, But speaks of other days ; Thoughts of the past cling thick around, And ever with it stays : Dear old arm-chair! so blest With memories glad. And memories sad. Of him who's gone to rest. Page One Hundred Thirty-four Thy favorite flowers, the morning-glories Bloom close around the door ; ''Emblems of purity" thou hast said, And clearly as before Thy words come back anew. And shed a light E'en thro' the night Of earth, to life more true. Thy loving counsel and advice. Thy life of integrity. We'll follow till this life shall close And dawns eternity. A legacy better than gold. Thy children claim Thy cherished name, And richer a thousand fold. We'll work and wait ; and when some day Low sinks the sun in the west. And we hear thro' the twilight the Master say "Weary ones, enter thy rest ;" With joy — not saddness — we'll come, To meet thee there. Heaven's bliss to share^ Reunited and all at home. 1879 Page One Hundred Thirty-five "IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN." OF all the words with meaning freighted, From the depths of love or hatred, Of all sad words that e're were spoken From the heart with sorrow broken, Come, oh Whittier, from thy pen, The immortal words, "It might have been." To the heart all worn and weary, Groping in the darkness dreary. Come the words unsought, unbidden. To the outer world all hidden. Written as with an iron pen, The saddest of words, "It might have been." To the soul with anguish riven, From deepest hell or highest heaven, Like a thunder-bolt 'tis hurled From the unseen, unknown world, Repeating o'er and o'er again The cruel words, *Tt might have been." Pilgrim, o'er life's desert roaming, Seest thou thro' the distant gloaming The camp-fires on the sunset shore. Where thou shalt rest, and nevermore The sad words pierce thy soul again. Nor murmur once "It might have been." 1880 Page One Hundred Thirty-six MORNING-GLORIES. PEEPING thro' the cottage window, Climbing o'er the door, Hiding in the waving grass, Lovely flowers so pure. Greet us with the rising sun, E're the day's toil is begun. Glistening with the early dew, Pink and blue and white ; Silent messengers so true Of the world of light, Teach us by thy magic spell How to live, and that how well. When the blazing sun of noon Casts its scorching heat, Fairy fingers gently fold Thy petals pure and sweet. And with twilight's dewy splendor Guard thy couch a presence tender. 1880 Page One Hundred Thirty-seven AN EASY PLACE. A young man wrote to Henry Ward Beecher for an easy situation. To zvhich Mr. Beecher replied: "Don't he an editor, if you would he easy. Do not try the laiv. Avoid school-keep- ing. Keep out of the pulpit. Let alone all ships, stores, shops and merchandise. Ahhor politics. Keep away from lawyers. Don't practice medi- cine. Be not a farmer nor a mechanic; neither a soldier nor a sailor. Don't study. Don't think. Don't work. None of them are easy. O my friend you are in a very hard world! I know of hut one real easy place in it. That is the grave. Work wins!" AN easy place, did you say, young man? How strangely sounds the word ; Of an easy place for a thinking soul, Alas, I've never heard. 'Tis work that wins in a world like this, That fills our ships and stores With merchandise ; and honor brings To home and foreign shores. Page One Hundred Thirty-eight Tis work that fills the broad'ning fields With ripened mellow grain; And he who seeks thro' indolence For wealth, will seek in vain. 'Tis faithful labor of hand and brain That fills high places of trust ; And you had better — now bear in mind- You better wear out than rust. For the years of our life are numbered By deeds, and not by years ; And oft the path is marked by thorns, And oft bedewed with tears. Rest is not sweet that toil's not earned, Where 'ere you search, my boy ; And true happiness is only reached Thro' honorable employ. 1880 Page One Hundred Thirty-nine TO LEORA HALL. Dost thou remember, friend of mine, Dear school-mate of the olden time, That one bright summer afternoon? 'Twas in the sunny month of June, To my childhood home you came to play, — Ah, many changes since that day ! We played "keep house" and 'Visit" too, As children I suppose will do As long as children there remain. For childhood ever is the same. 'Twas growing late when first we heard The chirping of a tiny bird ; Some wandering nestling that no doubt Against its mother's will flew out To try, ah foolish little thing. Too soon the strength of its new wings. And you and I with anxious eyes Were eager to secure the prize ; With careful step we chased it, each, But still it kept just out of reach, As many times now older grown We reach for treasures that are flown. Just then a school-boy passing by. Joined in the search, as low, then high. It flew among the lilac bushes. Page One Hundred Forty Or hid beneath the waving grasses. Ere we knew it, the sun had set, And you must go ; but Hngered yet, And to the Httle boy you said : "If you find the bird," — a moment read The struggle past ; — ''If you find the bird, Give it to her," was the loving word That revealed unselfishness and love, The gift of heart all gifts above. Years have past since last we met, But memory fondly lingers yet Around that one bright afternoon. Sweet echo of the days long gone. But would not, were it in my power. Live o'er again bright childhood's hour, For greater joys than these await My longing soul at heaven's gate, And loved ones in the spirit land Are waiting me with beckoning hand. 1880 Page One Hundred Forty-one BANQUET OF THE POETS. ALL who have lived, and sung, and died, Are living with us yet ; The past and present blend in one, Are stars that never set. As once its own forever its own A proud world gladly boasts ; Then fill these vacant chairs around. Welcome, dear guests and ghosts. All hail to sunny Scotland's own Immortal youthful bard ! Whose loving, tender thoughts, have thrilled The great pulse of a world. Fresh from his plow and native fields, The bonny green fields of Ayr, The merry songs the plowman sung Seem echoing everywhere. We see a peasant's lowly home, Cheerful with warmth and light ; And the picture stands before us now. Of "The Cotter's Saturday Night." Page One Hundred Forty-two Now softly unto our listening ear, Upon the breeze is borne, The plaintive but immortal words : "Man was made to mourn." But Scotland boasts another bard, . And memory quickly turns, And links the name of Walter Scott, With that of Robert Burns. And "Marmion" in grandeur stands Before our wondering eyes ; And the lovely ''Lady of the Lake" Doth in mystic beauty rise. And Goldsmith, ah, more generous heart Ne'er blest this world of ours ; While 'The Traveler" and "Deserted Village" Give proof of wondrous powers. Shakespeare, Byron, Moor and Cowper, Names to the world so dear With Hemans, Cook, and Browning, all Forever linger here. Death's unknown to such as these, They live and speak to-day As in the years of long ago They walked the earthly way. Page One Hundred Forty-three The smiling face of Jean Ingelow We greet with ** Songs of Seven ;" Picturing Hfe from infancy To the final home in heaven. Make room around the fireside now, Within its glowing light, For two sweet singers that have made A sinful world more bright. Bringing new light and holier joys To every heart and home, The hallowed peaceful influence Of the Gary sisters come. And the ''Order for a picture," list, We almost hear it given; And then, *'One sweetly solemn thought" Leads one day nearer heaven. And our beloved Quaker poet, O favorite one draw near! And sit you by the glowing fire That "Snow-Bound" pictures here. To the dreamer of "Evangeline" All hearty welcome give; With the "Song of Hiawatha" may Thy name forever live. Page One Hundred Forty-four To him whose eloquence hath given "Kathrina" and "Bitter-Sweet," An eager listening world doth own, And bring a tribute meet. And he who crowns the fair *'May Queen," And tells ''Enoch Arden's" fate, With Bryant, Holmes and Lowell join To hold the banquet late. From east and west, from north and south. They join in one grand song. Of peace and freedom, truth and right To lift the world along. 1881 Page One Hundred Forty-five MY FATHER'S PICTURE. ''Oh that those lips had language! Life hath passed With me but roughly since I sazv thee last/' — Cowper. O could those lips but speak to me, What message would they bring; What comfort to my lonely heart So long been sorrowing ; I gaze upon thy earnest face, And bless the hand of Art, That thus preserves thy sacred form, — O may we never part. My picture true, of one so dear. So like thyself it seems. That I forget that thou art here, Alas, but in my dreams, Sometimes I almost think I see The look of pity there. And hear a low voice whispering say : Dear child, in thy despair Look thou unto the heavenly hills. Where joy and peace await, And labor till the close of day, Then at the beautiful gate Page One Hundred Forty-six ril be the first to welcome thee To mansions of the blest, Where weary feet and hands and heart, Forevermore shall rest. 1881 A PRAYER. Written for the last day of school, and repeated by a little girl. OThou who dwell'st above the sky, And rules the starry worlds on high, Dwell thou within our hearts to-day, And hear, oh Father, while we pray. Thou who hearest the raven's cry, No sparrow falls without Thine eye ; Thy children guide through life's short day. And bless, oh Father, while we pray. May teachers, scholars, one and all Be gathered at Thy great roll-call. In mansions sure, no more to stray. Thro' Christ our Lord, we humbly pray. 1881 Page One Hundred Forty-seven IN MEMORY OF MRS. ANNA BIGELOW. When the summer days were longest, When the harvest grew the strongest And busy hum Of labor seeming all unceasing, And ever busy cares increasing In field and home, When the loving mother finds So much in little hearts and minds To shape and lead, From the work she loves the best, There seems no time to stop or rest For constant need. But lo ! within that cheerful home A sad unwelcome guest has come. And sudden night ; And the mother's step grows slow, And the lamp of life burns low. Then takes its flight. And you watch, but watch in vain. For the loved comes not again ; The sunny smile That met you in the days of yore, Page One Hundred Forty-eight Will greet you here, ah never more, And yet the while, Thro' the shadowy mists of night Steadily beams the beacon light, And echoes roll From the sunset land of bliss. The spirit world so close to this, Home of the soul. 1881 SEEKING. From life's cares and turmoil Seeking to be free, By the lofty mountains. By the summer sea, We pitch our tent For a day and night. Not satisfied quite. Nor quite content. Toward a stranger land. Seeking something new. Lingering in the valleys. In the twilight dew Page One Hundred Forty-nine We pitch our tent; Not finding rest In all our quest, Nor quite content. By the old home fireside, In its flickering glow, Through the mists of years Loved forms come and go,- We pitch our tent, To find them gone, The heart forlorn. And ne'er content. Toward the golden gateway Of the sunset land. Close upon its borders, Now with weary hand We pitch our tent; Till thro' the portal Of life immortal We find content. 1882 Page One Hundred Fifty PANSIES. MODEST, sparkling little pansies ! We greet your knowing faces, Peeping through the weeds and briers With the loveliest graces. Have ye journeyed here so early To tell us spring is near ? Come before more lofty flowers Dare to venture here? Didst leave, to face the chilling winds, Your own warm winter bed, Sweet messengers to weary hearts, On love's errand sped? Ah, pansies dear, we welcome you ! So early and late to stay, Until the cold and wintry winds Shall summon you away. More stately flowers by and by Will grace the garden bed ; In grandeur they will bloom and grow, But soon, alas, they're fled. Page One Hundred Fifty-one Ye are here to bid them welcome, And say a kind farewell; To soothe them while they fade and die, So deep your magic spell. I love you for the sake of one Whose favorites ye are ; Because I know within that breast, A faithful heart beats there. 1882 CASTLES IN THE AIR. COME sit beside me here, old friend, A while forget your care ; And let us as in childhood's days Build castles in the air. Forget the years that intervene, The hard wrought and the real ; And just for one short day, my friend. We'll live in the ideal. Forget that time with ruthless hand Has streaked our hair with grey : And we'll live o'er the joys again, That memory holds to-day. Page One Hundred Fifty-two The castles filled with glittering wealth, The fame of wondrous story, We'll rear again beneath the rays Of imaginative glory. The ship we looked for long ago, In all our youthful sport. May even now (ah, yes you smile,) Be rounding into port. Fled are the fondest hopes, my friend. Of what we'd do and dare; And dreams that lent a charm to life Have vanished into air. And life is filled with vain regrets From rise to set of sun : For what we said, and left unsaid, And did, and left undone. But sit beside me here, old friend, Awhile forget your care ; And let us as in days long gone, Build castles in the air. 1882. Page One Hundred Fifty-three TO ADA D. BARNETT. On the Event of Her Graduating. June 30, 1882. THE years all laden are bringing From out their garners vast, To lay at the feet of the present The wealth of the glorious past ; While the future beckons with glowing lights, To follow on to loftier heights. Pearls come alone by diving; Treasures must ever be sought ; Knowledge alone comes by striving; All of value by labor is bought. Ambition points and leads the way, That all who search may find to-day. Thus you, dear one, have learned That knowledge is true power ; And studious days and nights Have brought this longed-for hour ; And now while glows the bright June sun, You take the laurels nobly won. Page One Hundred Fifty-four One year ago I thought To bring a tribute meet, When you the German course Had mastered all complete; But then my muse forgot to sing, And thus delayed the offering. Now I bring the two in one Upon this festive day; When in the English course You bear the palm away. True labor never can be lost, And all of value pays the cost. And in life's great high school May you true wisdom show ; In works of love excel. And in soul beauty grow; With fields so broad and laborers few, For willing hands there's much to do. Page One Hundred Fifty-five PHANTOMS. OF all the many phantoms That pass before my view, The visions of past hours, All vanish like the dew ; They tarry not on all the way. Save one, that one abides for aye. The hours of joy how fleeting, That seemed so like to last ; The hours of pain and pleasure Have hurried by as fast ; But one remaineth. You can't forget; Whispers still the voice Regret. The hours of thought and study, The seeking after fame. The gaining or the losing The treasure of a name; They vanish and quickly are forgot, Are gone and yet we mourn them not. The hours of idle dreaming On long gone summer days, All pass in dim procession, And melt before my gaze; When all are gone there lingers yet The dark, sad spirit of Regret. 1882. Page One Hundred Fifty-six A SWEET SINGER OF ISRAEL, GONE. In Memory of Mrs. Mina Bigelow. STRIKE low, oh harps of Zion ! Your sweetest, tenderest tone ; For one we love lies sleeping, Yes, one we love is gone. A voice that swelled the anthems In earthly courts of song. Is hushed on earth forever, In silence deep and long. But listen ! for the echoes Come nearer than before ; And louder still and stronger Across the golden shore. It is the song of welcome The angels sing for one Whose faithfulness well merits The blest applaud ''well done." That life of sunny brightness Has left its impress true, And marked the path to heaven With many a radiant hue. Page One Hundred Fifty-seven A monument more precious Than any Art could rear, She leaves of blessed memory To all who knew her here. 1882. CHRIST AND NICODEMUS. 'T^ IS night, and o'er Jerusalem, •1. The moon's effulgent ray Lights up its homes and narrow streets. After the toil of day. And those who've labored until eve, Or sought amusement's place, i\re gone unto their several homes. Are wrapped in sleep's embrace. But night, that seeks to give to all The blessed boon of rest, Finds many an eyelid still unclosed. And many a troubled breast. Thus was it that eventful night, Within a ruler's heart ; The wondrous truths that he had heard Had bidden sleep depart. Page One Hundred Fifty-eight Within that same old city's walls There dwelt all quietly, Another Ruler in whose life A world's redemption lay. More than eighteen hundred years Have passed away since then, All quietly that Hebrew leader, Deemed wise and learned of men, Strode out into the stilly night, All unobserved to be ; The anxious thoughts that stirred his soul Were like the raging sea. A member of the Sanhedrin, And master of Israel, Now seeks by night to learn of One Who doth the tempest still. Then spake the Master of life to him : "The wind thou hearest blow, But canst not tell from whence it comes Nor whither doth it go." E'en so the Spirit tho' unseen, Doth move the hearts of men Unto repentance and good works. Thus they are born again. 1882. Page One Hundred Fifty-nine TO WHOM SHALL WE GO? Then said Jesus unto the tzvelve: Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord to whom shall we go? Thou hast the zvords of eternal life. John 6: 67-68. TO whom shall we go, oh Christ, but to Thee ! Who hast promised forever a refuge to be. To all who seek truly life eternal to know, If not unto Thee, to whom shall we go? The words that Thou speakest are spirit and life ; Sweet rest to the weary amid the world's strife : We seek for our comfort Thy peace but to know, li not to Thee, Lord, to whom shall we go? None who have sought Thee were e're led astray. Thy love and Thy law teach the one perfect way ; A guide safe and steadfast to pilgrims below, Then if not unto Thee, to whom shall we go? Thou who stillest the waves of the rough Galilee, And the still wilder waves of life's human sea. To the tempest-tossed soul speak gently and low. For if not unto Thee, to whom shall we go? Page One Hundred Sixty Thou of whom wrote the priests and prophets of old, Thy coming and mission with joy long foretold ; They owned and were blest Thy salvation to know, Then if not unto Thee, to whom shall we go ? O Master divine ! teach the world while they say : "Lo here and lo there," that Thou art the way ; That Thy love inexhaustible ever doth flow, Then if not unto Thee, to whom shall we go? 1883. INSCRIBED TO— JUST beyond death's hidden portal In the light of perfect day. Where the shadows never darken. Where the golden sunbeams stay, There your darling waits to greet you, In our Father's home above, Safely anchored in the refuge Of His everlasting love. Page One Hundred Sixty-one THE CLOUDS ON THE OTHER SIDE. A little boy whose brother had died a short time before zvas looking at the clouds one bright afternoon ivhen he said to his mother: '7 wonder if Vonnie sees the clouds on the other side." O sweet, questioning mind of childhood ! Your thoughts are as our own ; You speak the longings that older hearts Have never yet outgrown. We look up at the stars at night, And pale moon's silvery ray. That lights the fleecy, floating clouds, And wondering alway — Where is it that the spirit dwells ? Is it in realms afar? Beyond the shining noon-day sun. Beyond the farthest star ? Ah, we are children, nothing more ; And when we've crossed earth's tide, We trust that somewhere we shall see The clouds on the other side. 1883. Page One Hundred Sixty -two EASTER. BRING Easter Lilies to adorn The temple of our Lord; Bring treasures of sweet promises From out the written word: And let the joyful anthems ring In honor of our risen King. For lo ! the night of death is past, The day-star shines on high ; For Christ has risen from the dead, And man shall never die; Ring out for joy oh Easter bells. Of life immortal your music tells. While Faith divides the darkest cloud, And views the perfect day, From every tomb the angels roll The heavy stone away ; And now the portals open stand, That lead unto the better land. 1883. Page One Hundred Sixty-three AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. WERE I a painter, I would paint These mountains wreathed in glory ; Were I a poet I would tell In rhyme a glowing story. I'd paint the sunlight on thy brow, And shadows as they meet; The rocks that penetrate thy side. The waters cool and sweet, That trickle o'er the stony crags To the shady vale below ; That makes the violets lift their heads, And the daisies bloom and grow. I'd tell the secrets of the winds That come each summer day, To kiss the dew from off thy brow, And scatter the mists away. I'd tell of fairies, whose abode Is in these quiet dells ; That here the spirit of the air In solemn grandeur dwells. Page One Hundred Sixty-four Were I a painter, thy beauties I'd paint, In sunrise and sunset glow ; Were I a poet thy lays I'd sing — Were I painter and poet you know. 1883. 'TIS BETTER TO TRUST THAN DOUBT. TIS better to trust than doubt; 'Tis better to love than hate ; 'Tis better to labor on, Than idly stand and wait. The hour of death will come Full soon enough to all ; Then happy if golden sheaves We bring at the Master's call. 1883. Page One Hundred Sixty-five MY WORK-BASKET. MY basket — oh priceless treasure! It holds far more for me, Than if within were glistening Rich gems from o'er the sea. When by it, I am dwelling In memory's holy retreat ; For the loving heart that gave it Has long since ceased to beat. With thimble, needle and thread. Come thoughts of other years ; Till I hardly see the stitches. Thro' the mist of blinding tears. Token of a dear father's love, And prompter to industry ; How much as sorrow's healer. We owe, oh toil, to thee. So into the garment I make. Go threads of hope and love ; Till I'm carried away in my dream. All earthly cares above. Page One Hundred Sixty-siix As away from self while musing, Unconsciously I drift, Come thoughts of rest and heaven. With this, my basket gift. 1883. REST NOT. REST not, for the day is waning ; Rest not, for the night comes on, O heart, with so much to do! O think not of complaining, For 'ere the sun goes down Much is required of you. TO MRS. L. C. HULL. V/ OU ask me to write you a poem, A Dear friend, and 1 answer yes ; Muse, whisper to me, What theme it shall be, That shall best my love express. That shall wing its way over hill and vale, To comfort and cheer and bless. Paqe One Hundred Sixty-seven Shall I sing of faith and hope, In response to the loving request? No, I sing to-day A sweeter lay. The blessed song of rest ; Of all the promises to mortals given, This seemeth to me the best. Two years have passed since first We grasped each other's hand; Two fleeting years Of joy and tears That mark earth's checkered strand ; While friendship's ties have dearer grown, And stronger the silken band. The drowsy hum of bees This summer afternoon, The singing bird In the distance heard, The cricket's monotonous tune, Carries me back to the old farm-house, Half dreaming, I reach so soon ; Page One Hundred Sixty-eight And hear the cheery voice Of one who's there no more; Whose weary feet Have reached the street Of gold, on the other shore ; And waits to give us a welcome there When the storms of life are o'er. I seem him again to-day, His face all beaming with joy ; Now freed at last, Death's portal passed. In triumph, your darling boy Has reached the longed for home and rest, A messenger in heaven's employ. Perhaps in the hush of evening, Or in the calm noontide. His presence dear, Unseen yet near, Doth hope inspire, and guide Thy footsteps thro' earth's gloomy way To joys that shall abide. Page One Hundred Sixty-nine Not wealth, nor glory, nor fame, Can calm the human breast, Like this I send To you my friend. The thought I love the best, That comes anon to the weary soul, "He giveth his loved ones rest." 1883. OUR OLD CLOCK. TICKING away thro' the changing years, Patiently ticking, thro' joy and tears ; Heard in the solemn midnight hour. When thought o'er sleep usurps its power. Or when pain prevents from sleeping, Still faithfully its vigils keeping, — Ticking way, ticking away. Steadily ticking away. That old time-piece has long since come To be a part of the dear old home ; Ticking away for years the same When to us loss or prosperity came ; Steadily ever the pendulum swung When heart and life were light and young — Ticking away, ticking away. Faithfully ticking away. Page One Hundred Seventy When e're we wished the time more slow, Or longed more rapidly to have it go, Across the patient, honest face Never a change could we there trace; Steadily marking the minutes and hours, "Time never yields to earthly powers." It seemed to say, while ticking away, Faithfully ticking away. Ticking away when the prattling child Had hushed his merry laugh so wild, Through weariness had ceased to play, Flown on the wings of light away ; Sad were the hearts that tenderly yearned For the little one that ne'er returned. Still the old clock kept ticking away, Steadily ticking away. When the death-angel laid his hand Upon the head of our household band. When our loving father's step grew slow. When fainter beat the pulse and low, Through the hours of anxious fears, Through our anguish and bitter tears. Still faithfully ticking, ticking away, Steadily ticking away. Page One Hundred Seventy-one Ticking away while the years sped by, And again death's angel hovered nigh ; From the home below to the home above Our darling mother of tenderest love He gently bears, with the message given, One less on earth, one more in heaven; While the old clock kept ticking away. Faithfully ticking away. Ticking 'ere I who penned this lay Had looked upon the light of day ; As, faithfully at the hour of birth, So may it when departs from earth This weary heart, and loved ones come To bear my waiting spirit home. Be ticking away, ticking away, Faithfully, ticking away. 1883-1888. Page One Hundred Seventy-two WHILE THERE ARE SORROWING SOULS TO COMFORT. WHILE there are sorrowing souls to com- fort, While there are rugged paths to smooth, While there are wrongs to be resisted, While there are suffering hearts to soothe, O rest ye not, but smooth The rugged way, and soothe. While there are harvests all ungarnered, And while the reapers still are few. There's some part none else may master, For 'twas meant for only you ; A work among the few. Only meant for you. 1882. Page One Hundred Seventy-three AT EVENTIDE. ''At evening time it shall be light/' WHEN the hands have grown weary with labor, And the heart grown weary with care, When the last kind act to our neighbor Is finished with many a prayer, When the rosy light of the morning Is merged in the straight high noon, And the noontide hastens to mingle In the twilight, how be it so soon, 'Tis sweet to rest from all labor. Though morning and noon are blest. The grandest hour of our life-time Is the evening hour of rest. 1883. Page One Hundred Seventy-four MEMORY IS POSSESSION. AH, is it true that all is mine That memory holds so dear ? That all that filled the years gone by Still is lingering here? Yes, all is mine to hold and keep Safe from the cold world's storms; O memory, what a treasury Thou hold'st of vanished forms ! And yet, and yet when I look back, And turn thy pages o'er, Comes many a sigh and vain regret. And many a "nevermore." But surely would not if I could Forget the past, though I Would gladly smoothe the wrinkled leaves, Or pass them quickly by. With every retrospective look Comes joy and grief in turn ; In every record of good and ill A blessing I discern. Page One Hundred Seventy-five O, memory is a sacred book, Tho' tear-stained many a line ; Its hidden depths true riches hold For worshippers at its shrine. 1883. ONE YEAR MORE IN SCHOOL.* ONE year more in school is ended, The rugged school of life ; Another year's experience In its cares and strife. Have we such advancement made That we take a higher grade? All the great world is the school-house. The pupils all mankind ; The teachers are all society, The tasks are a varied kind. Thro' winter and summer the term extends, Saturday and Sunday until life ends. The days and weeks of seasons four, Have witnessed as we passed In and out the school-house door, Each day, until the last Day of the year ; and you and I Still the unending tasks do ply. ♦Suggested by a sermon by Prof. David Swing in the "Weekly Magazine," Dec. 29, 1883. Page One Hundred Seventy-six Some of the teachers are justly kind, And some indeed severe ; We pay tuition and regular fees, With extra charges each year. Advanced or backward, weak or strong, To this one school we all belong. In all the weeks and months gone by, Many have passed above us ; And we have learned it o'er and o'er, There are but few who love us ; But still life's tasks remain to do. And we must choose the false or true. And when we reach the higher school In mansions fair above, And pass the last examination By Him whose name is Love Life's lessons hard to learn and bear Will be made plain by the Master there. Page One Hundred Seventy-seven AMONG THE ISLANDS OF THE ST. LAWRENCE. FLOW on, oh River deep and wide ! Thy face all rippling with smiles, We glide o'er thy waves that proudly guard Thy beautiful Thousand Isles. And ask, was ever an Eden so fair ? As in admiration we stand, And view the wondrous feast that's spread By nature's generous hand. The marvelous wisdom and grandeur here, That shine in every line. Reveal a power all infinite, And a love that's all divine. Grand, the picture ! o'er isles and waves The glorious sunlight streams ; And equal beauty we own is given When kissed by the moon's pale beams ; And the lights of Alexandria Bay Shine o'er the glistening deep ; While heavenly benedictions seem The heart and mind to keep. Page One Hundred Seventy -eight O beautiful River! in majesty flow; Thy islands thy secrets share, And join in voiceless eloquence, In endless praise and prayer. 1884. MY BIRTHDAY. NOW, soul of mine, list patiently. For I've somewhat to question thee, Of all thy years now gone, Now what account hast thou to give ? What has it profited thee to live? What does the world from thee receive? Of good what hast thou done ? Stern and momentous is the truth ; But thou must meet it all, forsooth. Thou canst not from it flee ; 'Tis far more solemn to live than die. To bear life's burdens than lay them by, And swiftly the years and moments fly To join eternity. Page One Hundred Seventy-nine I bring thee to strict account to-day ; Ah, you tremble, and well you may. At duty's stern demands. Has sorrow e*re been made the less? Have burdened hearts in sore distress Had ever cause thy name to bless, For help from thy weak hands ? If not, oh count thy years as lost; Thus far a failure ; what e're the cost In vain is all the strife ; The strongest life-work of a soul Is made of small things that control And form at last the one grand whole Of a successful life. 1884. Page One Hundred Eighty OUR MOTHER'S GOLDEN WEDDING DAY. Sept. 24, 1884. Fifty years have passed away, And brought thy golden wedding day. Fifty years ! ah, doth the time Seem long or brief, since in thy prime And youthful vigor thou didst give Thy heart and hand to faithful live Thro' weal and woe, thro' storm and shine, That close life's pathway doth entwine, With one true, noble, manly heart That naught but death, stern death, could part? Thy life hath much of hardship known, And many joys to claim thine own ; Thro' more than three score years and ten Thou hast walked the earthly ways of men ; Thy children with thy presence blest, Now ask that heaven's blessings rest Richly on thy declining years As the golden sunset hour appears. By faith we view a world more fair. And father waits for mother there. Page One Hundred Eighty-one WORK. NO blessing like work for the hand and brain ; Though the task be plied o'er and o'er again ; Great antidote for sorrow and gloom, And for discontent leaves little room. As we rub and rinse on a washing day, So may the stain be washed away That the week has gathered on heart and mind, That darkens the soul as a window blind. As we hang our clothes in the air to dry, In the rays of the sun from a cloudless sky, Till they become all pure and white. All spotless made by the clear sunlight. May the cleansing power of light divine Penetrate to the inmost shrine Of the true soul life ; till it shall be Cleansed like linen from impurity. As with broom in hand we brush away The cobwebs that gather day by day In the rooms of our dwelling ; so may we The webs of dark superstition see. And selfishness, and thoughts of ill, And then remove from the chamber still Of the inner life ; till the calm retreat Would for the communion of spirits be meet. Page One Hundred Eighty -two A blessing on work for bodily health; A blessing on work for true soul wealth : Forever active as the restless sea, If free from rust our lives would be. Forever attaining, if never attained: Better to strive, if never is gained The goal of ambition ; soon cometh the best Reward of all ; for after work, rest. 1884. A GLIMPSE OF GREECE. Read at an Alumni meeting of the C. L. S. C. ONCE more within our banquet hall Classmates and guests respond to call ; With faithfulness and grasp of hand Gathers our old Chautauqua band. This yearly meeting brings again Thoughts of the past, and in its train The works of those all students seek Of many a noble gifted Greek. The foot-prints of the years long gone Remain, the glory of past renown ; And heroes great return to stand As sentinels to every land. Page One Hundred Eighty-three Much they have wrought ; the echoes still Reverberate thro' the world, and thrill Humanity with stronger thought, Of good and ill with wisdom fraught. We hear while in our homes of peace The loud war-cry of ancient Greece ; With wondering eyes we look upon The battle plain of Marathon. Or in a calmer state, we view The silver Olive groves that grew Along Ilissus' shining stream, A picture seen as in a dream. On Athens a world its honor pours, Mother of poets and philosophers ; Her ancient temples e'en to-day Are beautiful in their decay. As great in letters as e'er in wars, As famed in Art as true to Mars. And all her wealth shines out to-day While thro' the ages it lights the way. O mystery of the years that bring The past to present, thy praise we sing ! While the years that are and are to be Blend in the mystery of eternity. Page One Hundred Eighty-four THE SECRET OF A HAPPY LIFE. Written for Children's Day, June 1885, and spoken by Glenn H. Young. WELCOME here, sweet birds and flowers ! How you cheer these hearts of ours ; If you could speak, what would you say To all the children here to-day? I will listen, yes listen well If now the secret you will tell Of a good and happy life. Is it this ? (Now tell me if aright I guess). Speak kind words and good deeds do, If you'd have others kind to you ; Keep your heart from sin and strife, And yours will be a happy life. Page One Hundred Eighty-five EXPERIENCE. O experience ! truly thy teachings are dear ; Paid by many a heart-ache, many a tear ; Thy inexorable law admits no reprieve, Thou hast wounded, but hast not power to re- lieve. We bring our complaints but thou heed'st them not; Lives the past in the present, and never a jot Can it e'er be removed ; twixt life and the tomb All else stands aside to make for it room. I had thought to bury it ; — I said from this day. Carefully, silently will I lay it away ; Surely the present with its work and its care Is enough for earth- weary mortals to bear. I'll bury it safe, yes I'll bury it deep ; Forevermore in oblivion's dark sleep ; The rocks for a sepulcher shall hide it from view, Now sad reminder, adieu, and adieu. Then I turned me away at duty's stern call ; For alas time fleeth ; and soon over all The shades of night falleth, and sweet rest at last ; — But ah ! preceding is the silent past. Page One Hundred Eighty-six spectre-like in our pathway it glides on before, And anon it whispers, "sad heart, nevermore !" A constant companion I'll be to the end, Severe tho' I am, all own me as friend. If my teaching is heeded, a safeguard 'twill be. Keeping the present and the future free From the wrecks of the past ; then despise it not, The inevitable bitter of earthly lot. 1885. AFTER. AFTER the longing and waiting, Cometh the blessing of peace ; After the toil and striving. The glad surcease. Why should we dread the coming, The coming of one so blest ? The angel alone that bringeth The one true rest. We mourn for the loved departed. We listen, but all in vain, For the voices and the footsteps That never again. Page One Hundred Eighty-seven We'll greet in the dear home circle ; For alas, the vacant chair ; And the vacancies that meet us, Yes, everywhere. O time ! That's called so fleeting, And yet is fully long, For the grief that's always mingled With every song. O bring thy balm of healing, For sorrows great to bear ! The losses and the crosses That mortals share. And looking up and onward. We'll hail the dawning day, When the weary night of shadows Shall flee away. And in the land immortal. Our earthly journey past. We'll sing when reunited, All home at last. 1885. Page One Hundred Eighty-eight SATURDAY NIGHT. ANOTHER milestone along life's way, Another Saturday night; We pause amid earth's dust and toil, And take a backward flight. How quickly all the seven days Are come, and backward rolled Into the ocean of eternity, — And soon life's story's told. We open the portals of the past. Its conflicts there we meet; And there we view life's battle-ground. Its victory and defeat. Like as the sunshine peeping through Dark clouds on an April day. Are the changing scenes of human life, Hope's blossoms and decay. To-night I'm treading the silences Of a vast, echoless shore; And vainly look for a vanished face That greets me here no more. Page One Hundred Eighty-nine The mists, on a long ago Saturday night, Gathered thickly o'er the way, And we could not see while we said adieu. In the twilight dim and grey. And now we're waiting for the dawning To pierce the dark clouds through. Where our eyes have strained to catch a gleam Of the City's golden hue. For the gates so quickly ope and shut. We could not trace the way ; And the darkness of that Saturday night Has never cleared away. 1885. DANDELIONS. ALL along the dusty roadside, This army of golden heads, Wrapped in mantles of shining green, Peep from their grassy beds ; To cheer the weary passer-by, And remind that May is here ; That nature's last cold fetter now Is burst in sunny cheer. Page One Hundred Ninety They're sparkling in the meadows broad, And on the verdant hills ; They look as if they really tried To outshine the daffodils. By fence and hedge-row peeping through, And by the mossy stream, They're listening to the brooklet's song In trilling fancy's dream. A wish of childhood often comes, That they were gold indeed ; I'd fill my apron full, and then Would satisfy all need. Alas, their glory soon departs ! The gold turns to decay ; And soon their light and feathery down Like chaff is blown away. So like are they to human life, Its glory and its fame ; To-day it shines, — to-morrow gone, — The echo of a name. 1885. Page One Hundred Ninety-one WAITING. ''They also serve who only stand and wait." O words of courage given when strength shall fail; When loss and disappointment hedge the way; When harvest fields stretch out beyond the reach Of souls who fain would toil the livelong day ; When willing hands would serve the prompting heart, Nor cease from early morn till evening late, Must find content and comfort in the thought, "They also serve who only stand and wait." They serve who wait the wherefore and the why With patience ; and with cheerfulness conceal The longing to understand life's problem strange. That eternity alone can e'er reveal. O weariest of the weary ! when death shall come. The angels beck'ning you through heaven's gate, Will whisper unto you the secret why "They also serve who only stand and wait." 1885. Page One Hundred Ninety-two 1776 CENTENNIAL SONG. 1876 Tune "A Thousand Years.'* TELL it with joy and songs of gladness ! Our fathers fought and banished fears, To give us this land of liberty, Land of the free a hundred years. Chorus : A hundred years our own America ! 'Tis the glad day of jubilee; Hail it with joy ye noble freemen ! Send the glad song o'er land and sea. List to the bells of freedom pealing Up thro' the memory of days of yore; Old customs we welcome back again, And dreaming, we live the old time o'er. O glorious pride and boast of a nation, That claims a Lincoln and Washington ; We link the names of heroes to-day With those of a hundred years agone. Page One Hundred Ninety-three WE THANK THEE.— THANKSGIVING HYMN. Words set to music by 0. S. Grinnell. FOR the shadows and the sunshine, For the pearly drops of rain, For the spring-time and the harvest, For the rich and golden grain, O Lord, we thank Thee. For the gift of peace and plenty. Over all our land to-day; For the gospel's light and freedom Moving onward in its way, O Lord, we thank Thee. For the grace that brings us nearer To the mansions sure above ; For the calm and peaceful refuge Of Thy great eternal love, O Lord, we thank Thee. Page One Hundred Ninety-four COME TO ME. Words set to music by 0. S. Grinnell. HEAR the glorious invitation ! Burdened soul it is to thee ; To the weary heavy laden, Christ is saying "Come to me." Ye who perish on the highways, Fainting for the bread of life, Here is food and home and shelter, Here is rest from care and strife. All who thirst for living water. Hither come, there yet is room ; The rich and poor of every nation, "Whosoever will may come." 1877. Page One Hundred Ninety-five "IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY." This poem was suggested by an article zvith the same title in the ''Christian Union'' or rather it is that article in rhyme. 4<X T O/' said the lawyer solemnly, i ^ **I shall not press your claim ; Tho' it should bring a mine of wealth, Ten fold increase my fame/' *'Why speak you so," his client said; "You cannot frightened be; Has the old fellow begged so hard You could not stand his plea ?" "Well yes, he did beg rather hard, But to me said not a word ; 'Twas another person he addressed. It happened that I heard. And how it came I will relate, And then you can withdraw The case; or other than me employ To execute the law. Page One Hundred Ninety-six I easily found the house, as you said ; And knocked at the outer door, Which stood ajar; but they did not hear, Was about to knock once more, As into the Httle hall I stepped. And saw upon a bed In a cozy room, a woman ill, High pillowed her silvered head. She looked so like my own dear mother. As last on earth I saw, I speechless there and powerless stood In deep and solemn awe. 'Come father' she said, 'I'm ready now,' An old man knelt by the bed, And offered an earnest, heart-felt prayer. And this is the way he plead : 'Thou knowest how much, O God in heaven. We've suffered, poor mother and me To whatever is thy righteous will Submissive we will be. Thou knowest that there is none to blame; Had but one boy been spared In our old age' — his voice then broke, — 'How differently we'd fared/ Page One Hundred Ninety-seven Just then a white hand stole from out The coverlet thin, and moved Softly over his snowy hair, His deeper feeling soothed. Then he went on to say that 'naught Could be so sharp again, As parting with those noble sons Upon the battle-plain; Unless the mother should be taken. On that he dared not dwell ; But soon found comfort in the thought, Thou doest all things well. And all Thy promises we claim, Thou'lt not forsake or leave ; That to the alms-house we must go Dear Lord, we can but grieve. And if consistent with Thy will Deliver us from such place ; Nevertheless Thy will be done; Sufficient is Thy grace/ And then he asked a blessing on Those about to demand Justice ; and that they might be led By God's own guiding hand." Page One Hundred Ninety-eight Said the client, ''my mother used to sing, Way back in childhood's day, I almost hear it now, *God moves In a mysterious way/ Now you may call again, my friend, And 'mother and him' please tell, The claim is satisfactorily met, And they may continue to dwell, In the dear old home where years they've spent In sorrow and in joy; Tho' they're bereft 'tis freely given By some one else's boy." "On those conditions I'll take the case ;" Then smiling he turned to say 'T'll tell them the claim has all been met Tn a mysterious way.' " 1885. Page One Hundred Ninety-nine WATCHING AND WAITING. I'VE strained my eyes to see him,* And my ears to hear his voice ; In vain I've looked and listened For a sign that would rejoice My sad heart in the shadows Of the misty vale of time, That would lighten life's great burden, And put music in my rhyme. The years have numbered seven In their silent onward tread. Since we left the last fond impress Of the kiss upon our dead; Seven times, oh summer sunshine! Seven times, oh winter cold ! You have come and brought no message That the mystery would unfold. At midnight and the noontide, At the rise and set of sun. In the twilight soft and tender When the summer day was done; When the winter's snow lay coldly, When it vanished in the spring, Thro' all the seasons' changes I've been watching, listening. "^'The author's father. Page Two Hundred But now I'm only waiting, And fain would fill the space With working for the Master In any way or place; For the meeting when the shadows Have passed from out the sky, Will be sweeter for life's labor, And the resting by and by. READ TO ME, DARLING. READ to me darling, I'm weary to-night,- Softly now in the fading light; Read not of heroes of Greece or Rome, But a quiet song of peace and home. Read to me darling, I'm lonely to-night. And e'en the stars shed a gloomy light; Read soothingly now, that I may forget For a little while a life's regret. Read to me darling, I'm sad to-night — Of Him who shed a wondrous light, Who joined unknown the troubled two On the way to Emmaus long years ago. Page Two Hundred One Read to me darling, oh read it again, Of One acquainted with grief and pain ; Of Him who wept o'er Lazarus' grave, Of Him who stilled the wild sea wave. Read to me darling, I'm weary to-night, Read soft and low in the calm twilight ; For a little while I'll try to forget, O sad heart, full of a vain regret. 1885. WHAT DO THEY SAY? Words set to music by 0. S. Grinnell. THERE are people who cordially greet me, In the shop in the store on the street ; And they hail me with hearty good pleasure Whenever we happen to meet ; And if kind fortune has blest me. And some small favor has shown. They say they are glad, but I wonder O what do they say when I'm gone? Page Two Hundred Two Chorus : O what do they say when I'm gone, when I'm gone? Pray what do they say when I'm gone? Do they speak of me ill, do they speak with good will, O what do they say when I'm gone? Never once do they speak of my failings, And their words never savor of blame ; But the faults and mistakes of my neighbor They eagerly haste to proclaim. And thus they censure the absent For something he's said or he's done; It makes me to wonder and ponder, what do they say when I'm gone? Whenever I call at their dwelling 1 am met with bright smiles at the door; And to sup or to dine they entreat me, Regretting I've not called before ; They secretly wish my departure, Their smiles are but falsely put on. They sigh with relief a good riddance, And say they are glad when I'm gone. Page Two Hundred Three If one gift should be prized above others In this changeable world of ours, That will scatter the darkness with sunlight, And strew the wild desert with flowers, 'Tis owning of friends true and faithful, Whose words are depended upon, Who never will cause us to wonder O what do they say when I'm gone. 1886. TO ASHLEY AND SIRA BIGELOW. On the 10th Anniversary of their wedding. OVER the mountains, the hills and streams, This message of love I send you ; And on this your anniversary May the blessing of peace attend you. May you with many friends be blest And love be your abiding guest. May all the pleasures of years gone by Stand forth in bright array; While all past sorrows, pain and tears. In the distance fade away. May the present be a token true Of future bliss in store for you. Page Two Hundred Four In the harvest field of your sunny home May you reap life's richest joys ; And the sweetest music that you shall hear Be the merry laugh of your boys. And prove that whereso e'er you roam There is no place so dear as home. May all that the years have brought to you Unfold in wisdom and love; While the blessings of faith and hope and peace Shine down from the Father above ; And may you see on your pilgrim way Many returns of this joyous day. 1886. THE NEST 'NEATH THE PORCH. 1 watched with pleasure two little birds, When early spring had come, That under the shady vine-clad porch Had come to make their home. For days they toiled on faithfully, Till the nest complete was there ; I looked one day and saw within Four little blue eggs fair. Page Two Hundred Five I said, the children Til not tell Just now ; though well I knew They would not harm the little things, But with eager love and true, I feared that they would watch too close, Oft anxiously would peer Within the nest, and thus would drive The birds away in fear. I thought, when the little prisons burst And set the captives free, The secret I'd the children tell, And join their childish glee. Alas for hopes ! one morn I found That eggs and nest and all Were gone ; and not a vestige left. Nor e'en a bird's sad call. How oft the cherished hopes of life Are likewise swept away, How much of desolation wrought In just one fleeting day. To-day the winter winds blow chill, And swiftly flies the snow ; My thoughts are with the nest and porch. And the days of long ago. 1886. Page Two Hundred Six ISAAC MOORE. The Hermit of Schroon Lake. TELL another story did you say, A story that's honest and true? Well children, if you'll keep quite still, Just such I'll tell to you. "Once on a time," long time ago. Yes, fifty years and more, A Hermit dwelt in a low rude hut, In a quiet nook, on the shore Of a beautiful lake that winds among The mountains towering high ; While in the distance village spires Looked hopeful toward the sky. So near and yet so far from men. He dwelt alone ; the grounds About his hut no foot oft pressed Save his and his faithful hounds. He sometimes would return and roam The streets of his native town, And beg his bread from door to door Until the sun went down. Page Two Hundred Seven With crutch and cane he made his way, For but one leg had he ; And with his dogs and gun was formed This strange, sad company For well he loved the hunter's prey, The forest wide to roam ; And finally he made for life Their solitude his home. With wondering pity many watched Him wander from their door ; And sighed as to their work they turned, Alas, poor Isaac Moore ! There came a time his visits ceased ; No more he begged for bread ; For lo, the heart had ceased to beat. Alone in his cabin — dead. And was he always thus you ask, So poor and sad and lone? Ah, no ! dear children, Tve been told That in his youth there shone No brighter intellect than his In the country far or near ; And in his college class he stood Almost without a peer. PcLge Two Hundred Eight 'Twas with high honors he went forth, I fear without an aim ; And 'twas through idle melancholy To this sad plight he came. Alas, for loss of moral worth, That should be gathered in To the treasury of the world's great wealth ; Alas for the might have been. Now this the moral we may draw ; Life's duties never shirk ; For all its sorrows, cares and grief. There is no cure like Work. Choose early some plain path in life, And ne'er from it be turned ; Remember naught of value is. Unless 'tis rightly earned. WHERE HAST THOU GLEANED TO-DAY? *nP IS eventide; the reapers now i- Have gone unto their homes ; And with an ephah of barley gleaned, Ruth to Naomi comes. Page Two Hundred Nine loving one ! in Boaz' field I see thee gleaning still ; 1 see thy love's unselfishness Thy faithful vows fulfill. And as Naomi said to Ruth, So say I unto thee : Where hast thou gleaned to-day, oh heart, What will the record be? Now as the shades of evening fall, And darkness veils the land. Canst thou recall one loving deed As coming from thy hand? Or hast thou given expression to One tender thought to cheer The hearts with care and sorrow pressed, That daily meet thee here? On every hand life's golden grain Bends low about thy way ; Hast thou an idler been, oh soul, Where hast thou gleaned to-day? Page Two Hundred Ten THE LITTLE BOY THAT LOVES ME. SWEETER than any fairies That roam the woodland dells ; Sweeter his voice than music That rings from their silver bells ; The little boy that loves me. Brighter his eyes than sunbeams That kiss his cheek of tan ; And he's six years old to-day, Fast growing to be a man, The little boy that loves me. His last words are 'T love you," As he seeks the night's repose ; And scarce the words are uttered. When into dream-land goes The little boy that loves me. O angels ! guide and guard him ; And keep him pure as now, When future years shall leave Their mark upon the brow Of the little boy that loves me. 1886. Page Two Hundred Eleven UNUTTERED. THERE'S a joy too high for utterance; A gladness too deep for speech; There are heights and depths and breadths That only in spirit we reach. There are songs that are never sung, There are words that are never said ; There are griefs that remain unknown Till the aching heart lies dead. There are chords that are never touched, The chords of the silent song; The music the low sweet whisper From the Infinite borne along, Adown thro' the golden sunbeams, Or the twilight hushed and dim. Like the peace of a benediction. Or pause that follows a hymn. From the dome of the starry sky To the depths of the rolling sea. Is the wondrous dwelling place, Of unuttered mystery. 1886. Page Two Hundred Twelve POEM. Read at the Bigelow family reunion held at Wor- cester, Mass., June 2, 1887. WHEN ancient Greece in glory shone, In wealth of splendor and renown, The mother, all the world avers, Of poets and philosophers. The source to which our wealth we owe Of culture, that her hands bestow. Herodotus with well-earned fame As father of all history, came To entertain Olympia's guests With records of far-reaching quests. Of topics wide and manifold, Of countries and of heroes bold. Between the games and heated race, They listened with attentive grace To all the wonders of the age As told them by the honored sage. And as all Hellas older grew In wealth of art and letters too. With culture that ne'er fails to please. Came the historian Thucydides. Tho' art and literature shone. Worthy the record, handing down Page Two Hundred Thirteen To generations yet to be, A rich and lasting legacy ; With treasures rare to search and find, One theme alone filled all his mind ; Nought could attract from near or far, Save the Peloponnesian War. And so dear friends, we gather here, Drawn by one theme from far and near ; From north and south, from east and west, From every home that each loves best. We gather here a kindred host, From Maine to Calif ornian coast, To form acquaintance new, tho' late, 'Mid glories of the Old Bay State ; That justly claims with glowing pride. Much that has made her fame world-wide. Birth-place of many of true worth. Whose zeal and wisdom bless the earth. And ancient land-marks here abound. Our fathers made historic ground ; An open door to freedom's land Dear Plymouth Rock for aye shall stand. The Old South Church in peace and war Shines out an ever guiding star. Your hearts with patriotism thrill When thoughts arise of Bunker Hill ; While old and young delight to hear Page Two Hundred Fourteen Of the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. You boast all things as **done up brown," E'en to the witches of Salem town ; Rejoice in progress of to-day, With superstition passed away. Now 'round the fire-side love to tell Of what in olden times befell; How in seventeen-hundred seventy-three In Boston Harbor they steeped the tea ; So strong they made it Old Britain shrank. Nor called the nectar sweet she drank. The greatest Tea-party e'er was known, In any country or any zone; It proved a nation strong for right, That dares oppression with her might. Now lest the prelude longer be Than all the line of ancestry, We leave these thoughts and hasten on To descendants numerous of John, Who first into New England came. And here diffused the honored name. And farther back we still may go To trace the name of Bigelow ; When Henry Third on England's throne Did reign, e'en then the name was known 'Tis changed somewhat from Baguley To the Yankee style it wears to-day. Page Two Hundred Fifteen Richard, Lord of Baguley, came, His race per custom took the name. When Henry Seventh affairs controlled, Ralph De Baguley, we are told. Was then the Lord of Allerton Hall ; The history we with pride recall ; i\nd then we read that later on. His great-grandson, the aforesaid John, At an early day sailed o'er the sea. Curious to explore this "faire countrie." He closely followed the Pilgrim band, And made a home in the same fair land. Now from the broad Atlantic's foam To the far Pacific, where e'er you roam That name you'll meet ; and often find In places of trust and honor enshrined That name; and may it ever be Unsullied by impurity. With honest pride the name we own, A.S handed down from father to son ; May each esteem the privilege dear. To keep the record shining clear. We boast a royal ancestry ; But that makes neither you nor me ; On individual worth alone We build a structure all our own ; And for its failures more or less Responsibility must confess. Page Two Hundred Sixteen As well might each and all begin To plead excuse by Adam's sin, As that a noble ancestry Makes up a life's deficiency. O lasting prize of valor, won By Massachusetts' noble son ! Time-honored Worcester proudly gave Colonel Timothy Bigelow, the brave ; Man of strong heart and iron will, Who nobly fought at Bunker Hill, With Revolutionary fame For aye shall shine the cherished name. Now thanks to him whose generous hand Has welcomed this fraternal band ; The anniversary of whose birth, We celebrate with songs and mirth. May this meeting emblematic be Of the great home-gathering, where we With all the loved ones gone before From Father's house go out no more. Page Two Hundred Seventeen SEVEN YEARS OLD. SEVEN times one are seven ; now know, O rollicking happy boy, You've reached the first milestone to-day, And life's without alloy. When three times seven years you scan, Behold, the boy will be a man. Seven times one are seven ; ah me ; The baby is outgrown ; We could not stay the years since we Said one times one is one. With fond hopes we the future plan, When the boy of seven will be a man. July 10, 1887. ALL FOR YOU. Written for music. THERE'S a refuge secure from the wintry blast ; There's an anchor of hope when the waves beat fast ; There's a haven of rest for the weary soul. And a message of peace, ''Christ maketh thee whole." Page Two Hundred Eighteen There's a river of life all sparkling and bright, Where our thirst may be quenched, our souls be made white ; There's a banquet ready ; where all may be fed From the bounties of heaven with life-giving bread. Then oh soul, fly for refuge without delay, Where the Saviour now waits to bless thee to- day. With the riches of grace and heavenly love. And to crown thee an heir to mansions above. 1887. DID WE BUT KNOW. DID we but know the conflicts In many a human breast. Did we know the unseen sorrow That gives them such unrest, I think we would be kinder. More tenderness would show. Remembering we have only A little way to go. Page Two Hundred 'Nineteen Did we but know the struggles That some way come to all, Some bravely overcoming, While others yield and fall ; I think we'd have more charity. To chide would be more slow, While knowing we have only A little way to go. Did we but know the trials In secret patience borne ; Or know the heart was aching While smiles the face has worn. We'd stay the words of censure That add to human woe. Remembering we have only A little way to go. 1887. IN THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH. I'VE journeyed oft in thought before, * Where now to-day I see This old-time structure, rich in lore Of varied history. Page Two Hundred Twenty Its service in the years gone by The written page lights o'er ; By poets sung, revered and loved, A hundred years and more. No more the people as of old For worship gather here ; But view with fond and eager eyes The old-time relics dear,* That find a home and refuge where These sacred walls inclose; Where Warren's eloquence gave power In vanquishing our foes. One ancient piecef I linger by. And fondly gaze upon ; Used by a soldier brave and true, A century agone. Long may this spire point heavenward ! These walls securely stand; An emblem true of liberty, — An independent land. 1887. *The old South Church is now used as a museum of ancient relics. fA small copper Tea-kettle used by Col. Timothy Bigelow in tlie war of the Revolution. Page Two Hundred Twenty-one BRYANT. Read before Nashville Chautauqua Circle on Bryant's day. — Nov. — 1887. TO him who words of courage gave When first our cause had birth ; We bring on this memorial day, As tribute to his worth Our hearts' best offering of praise And love ; and own the might, And power and wisdom of his pen, And loyalty to right. Nature's great poet ! well beloved By all Chautauquans true ; In every state from east and west, In foreign countries too ; All meet to celebrate this day Of proud New England's son ; Beloved and claimed by every land, Because our aim is one. Page Two Hundred Twenty-two In one decade our ranks have grown To tens of thousands strong; Lovers of truth and knowledge all, Who join this mighty throng. The power for good no human pen Can fully estimate; We simply say the work is grand, The influence is great. TO MISS MATTIE L. SEAVER. On her 12th birthday, with a copy of Jean Inge- low's poems Feb. 9, 1888. MAY each returning birthday bring Bright joys afresh to you ; And may your heart be always young, Your life be always true. While friends and schoolmates join to make This day remembered long; And fill the hours with sportive glee, With glad and happy song, I ask for you a blessing rich. And great in magnitude ; It is that you be ever blest With joy of doing good. Page Two Hundred Twenty-three I WOULD RATHER. I ask not for wisdom to pen The classics of Greece and Rome ; But rather to me there be given The sweet inspiration from heaven, To cheer the sad children of men With songs of rest and home. I ask not an undying name Through future ages to shine; But rather that feet grown weary Along life's pilgrimage dreary, Be quickened ; and hearts touched to flame By a tender song of mine. I ask not the victory to share Of vain ambition and strife ; But rather for zeal to labor With love to friend and neighbor, And mutual burdens bear In the common ways of life. 1887. Page Two Hundred Twenty-four MAKING THE DARK DAY BRIGHT. THE day is dark, the clouds hang low And hide the face of the sun. The rain comes down, the wind blows chill ; Now what is to be done? When the sun withholds his golden light How can we make the dark day bright ? The artist said: 'I'll paint to-day, Bright flowers and golden grain, And summer skies, and bending fruit, And boats upon the main. My brush shall yield its tints of light, Thus will I make the dark day bright." The poet said : "I'll write to-day, My best and sweetest song; And it will bless some lonely heart, I know has waited long For words that only I may write. Thus will I make the dark day bright." The singer said : "I'll sing to-day My own best notes of cheer ; Behind the clouds somewhere I know The sun is shining clear ; And music e'er shall bring delight, Thus will I make the dark day bright." Page Two Hundred Twenty-five The artist paints, the poet writes, The singer sings his lay ; The morrow will be fairer still For dark clouds of to-day; For all who will may shed some light, And thus make every dark day bright. 1888. MOTHER, HOME, HEAVEN. MOTHER ! sweet and soothing name, That calms our childish fears; Mother ! sacred, sweeter still When come life's later years. Home ! O blessed refuge where From care and strife we come; Richly blest with mother love, No place so dear as home. . Heaven ! harbor where our bark Shall anchor tempest driven ; To find at last our joy complete. In Mother, Home, and Heaven. 1888. Page Tico Hundred Tiventy-six HALLOWE'EN. WE are looking, backward looking^ On this peaceful Hallowe'en, To the lights upon the hill-tops That in ancient times were seen. Long ago, before the wise men Saw the brilliant Eastern Star, That proclaimed the Savior's coming, — In the age more distant far, Was a festival appointed By the Druids, priests of old ; That each year was celebrated, Faithfully, as we are told. Now gay groups of lads and lasses Still commemorate with cheer ; And we know as in the old time, Fairies must be hovering near. Nature gently draws the curtain O'er the golden harvest joys. While we pray that heaven's blessings Guard and guide our girls and boys. 1888. Page Two Hundred Tiventy -seven EASTER MORNING. THE glorious morn of hope shines forth, The night has fled away ; For Christ has risen and has turned The darkness into day. And evermore from earth to heaven Is stretched a golden chain ; Its mighty links can ne'er be riven, Nor darkness reign again. Ring! ring oh Easter bells your joy! And bloom ye lilies sweet ; And breathe, oh human hearts, your love, And oft the theme repeat. For Christ is risen, oh day of days, All radiant with glory ! And men and angels, earth and heaven. Unite to tell the story. 1888. Page Two Hundred Twenty -eight PRESENT DAYS ARE BEST. SOME sigh for childhood's golden days So quickly vanished ; And mourn the childish innocence The years have banished. Some long for their departed youth, With all its pleasure ; Nor dream that the advancing years Can fill the measure. Some sigh for early love and bliss, And miss the nearer ; Nor know that later love is best And much the dearer. I would not be a child again, Were to me given The power to backward turn the years, — And distance heaven. I would not give maturer thought For youthful vision ; Nor all the labor years have wrought With its blest mission. Page Tivo Hundred Twenty-nine The present days are far the best Of all our knowing ; And days to come, from these, we trust, Are brighter glowing. 1889. GRANDMA'S BIRTHDAY. June 2, 1889. SLOW her step has grown and weary, But her heart is just as cheery As in the days agone ; And her ever sunny smile Cheers and blesses us, the while The years are gliding on, That bring her nearer rest and heaven ; To-day dear grandma's ninety-seven. She is sweetly retrospecting, On her youthful days reflecting, That seem to her so near ; The past and future she is linking. Of the present scarcely thinking, Now she can almost hear The opening golden gates of heaven, For to-day she is ninety-seven. Page Tivo Hundred Thirty Many years she's toiled ne'er fainting. Now she's only watching, waiting To hear the welcome "Come," And receive her loved one's greeting Where no parting follows meeting, In the heavenly home ; Yes, dear grandma's ninety-seven, Closely comes the breath of heaven. WORKING W^ITH GOD. // / can put one touch of a rosy sunset into the life of any man or zvoman, I shall feel that I have zvorked zvith God. — George Macdonald. IF life is made brighter, And laughter more free. If pain is made lighter By presence of thee. Deem not thy life useless. Nor count it as vain. Nor labor as fruitless, If so it regain A smile to the weary, And hope to the sad. Page Two Hundred Thirty-one The way that is dreary Once more making glad, And Hfting toward heaven Sad mortals that plod, Thine, joy that is given Thus working with God. 1889. TRUE AMBITION. To the class of 1889 of Nashville high school. STRIVE not at a bound to reach the heights, But serve on the way thereto ; From the lower round to the ladder's top A step at a time pursue. For not by him of the greatest speed Is won the race of renown ; But by him who heedeth the fable old Of pilgrims to Boston town. He wins no prize who faints by the way Because it is rough and steep ; But faithfully on through perils oft. Unwavering step must keep. Page Two Hundred Thirty-two You finish but to begin ; for life's Great lessons are never done ; Each night shall find new tasks that wait The rising of the sun. And closed doors shall open wide To the touch of a magic key That true ambition holds in power And offers now to thee. LETTER TO THE THIRD REUNION OF THE BIGELOW FAMILY, AUG. 14, 1889. AS many miles divide us This glad reunion day, And mountains, lakes and rivers Still hold their right of way, Nor e'er contract to lessen The distance that denies My presence with you, joining In closer kindred ties, I send you this brief missive That travels cheaper far Than could the humble writer In any kind of car ; Page Two Hundred Thirty-three And use our faithful servant, The ever wilHng pen, Regrets to you conveying, And when they've reached you, then Just add unto them wishes For your happiness to-day ; Fond memories may it bear To bless your future way. Successful be your efforts In all you seek to know Pertaining to the family And tribes of Bigelow. FIFTY YEARS. To Mr. and Mrs. A. F. Elitharp on their golden wedding^ Jan. 1, 1890. YOU backward look across the years, The years so swiftly flown ; And all the treasures they have held To-day are still your own ; Fond memory never lets depart True riches from the loving heart. Page Two Hundred Thirty-four The dear old homestead still is yours ; More sacred grown each day ; Where you for half a century Have journeyed on life's way. And children's children rise to bless, And own your tender faithfulness. Life's sweetest pleasures here you've found That make an earthly home ; And sorrow's dark'ning shadows oft Within these walls have come ; Thus many joys and many tears Are woven in these fifty years. The children come from far and near Their childhood scenes to greet ; And own that naught the world can give To them is half so sweet As joys within the dear home nest, By father and mother richly blest. Now may life's golden sunset be Far brighter than its noon ; And may your evening hours of rest Be heaven's most precious boon ; Till joined with loved ones in the spheres Where time is measured not by years. Page Tioo Hundred Thirty-five AT MY WEST WINDOW. "There are two sides to a story." Likewise there are two views of a picture. i 4'\70UR view said a friend, from the west," A one day 'Ts very unpleasant; for over the way Are tumble-down buildings, barn and shed, What a wretched scene is here outspread." *"Tis true" I replied, "but near at hand And just beyond is a scene more grand Than ever artist's skill could paint, Or mortal plan in colors quaint. "For there the rosy sunset streams Thro' verdant trees ; the golden gleams Light the hills and valleys below With every tint of a full rainbow. "I gaze with joy on the glorious sight Of the western sky in the fading light ; O'er looking the gloom that lies between, Enraptured with the radiant scene. "Thus might we overlook the strife, The cares, the ills and griefs of life, And catch a view of the world of bliss That lies just over the border of this." 1890. Page Two Hundred Thirty-six SUNRISE ON THE MOUNTAINS. r^ EAR old Vermont ! Thy mountains grand, ^-^ Rock-bound arise, majestic stand. Thy whispering forests rest serene In light and shade, in gold and green : At sunrise on the mountains. Long, long ago — can I forget That golden morn that haunts me yet ? That glowing panorama drawn On nature's canvas at the dawn — At sunrise on the mountains. From farm-house old, at early light. We rose to greet the glorious sight ; That radiant sunburst's grand surprise That opened on our wondering eyes, At sunrise on the mountains. Dost thou reflect the rays divine That from the Heavenly mansions shine — Where never mortal foot hath trod The vast, eternal, hills of God? O sunrise on the mountains ! 1890. Tage Two Hundred Thirty-seven POEM. Read at the Nichols family Reunion at Grand Ledge, Mich., August 13, 1890. LONG ago from o'er the ocean, To this broad, inviting shore. We are told there came four brothers Who the name of Nichols bore. They were strong and sturdy Welshmen, And our ancestors were they ; And a few in glad reunion Of their descendants meet to-day. Of the lineage so ancient We have nearly lost all trace; More than two centuries have passed Since here they found an honored place. We read that a colony from Wales, (But all unknown to us by name) In sixteen-hundred eighty-five. To Radnor, Pennsylvania, came. Page Tivo Hundred Thirty-eight And by their zeal and industry Soon a Meeting-house they reared; That stands a monument to-day, By history and song endeared. "Old St. David's at Radnor," sung By our beloved Longfellow's muse ; The ivy climbs the gray stone walls, Guarding well its years of use. Our only theme to-day shall be The name we love of later years ; And one branch of the family. That the Michigan pioneers. Here our fathers felled the forests, Here they planted humble homes ; Where blooms a paradise to-day — Sure recompense to labor comes. They were not deprived of music, Even in that early day ; For the wolves gave nightly concerts, Howling care and sleep away. Oft the children were awakened At the early morning light. By music of the falling trees, By the woodman's axe and might. Page Two Hundred Thirty-Nine Long and tedious was the journey In the old-time to the mill ; Only Indian trails to guide them, By the forest, vale, and hill. And the mothers, just as zealous, Late and early filled the hours With work within doors and without, Aiding with their utmost powers. Hardships many and privations. Brought rich comforts to the door Of their children's children ; and they Homage pay to days of yore. Kindred of the house of David And his brother Truman, here Meet we uncles, aunts and cousins, Old and young with hearty cheer. While we listen to the stories Of the old-time and the new. Of privations and of pleasures, We the past and present view. We can claim among our number Lawyers, doctors, merchants too; And ministers to guide the craft Ever onward to the true. Page Txoo Hundred Forty By our name are represented All professions now in vogue ; Unless from other tribes we differ There must be at least one — rogue. Thus to illustrate the story Of the one black sheep so lone, That will persistently invade Every flock, as each must own. And we claim as noble manhood, And as noble womanhood, In our ranks as any other ; Lives, unselfish, true and good. Lives that bravely stand the conflict In earth's sorrow, toil and care ; Never faltering, ever ready Faithfully to do and dare. Greet we all with words of courage, While we meet, then go our way, Trusting each be wiser, better For the blessings of the day. Nature smiles in radiant beauty Where the sparkling waters flow, Of Grand River, loved and cherished In the days of long ago. Page Two Hundred Forty-one 'Neath the shadow of the ledges Of the rocks all towering high, Islands green and boats of pleasure Meet and greet the charmed eye. May this day of sunny brightness Tinge with light all days to come ; May its sacred memories ever Dwell within each heart and home ; Till we meet where glad reunions Nevermore shall broken be, In our Father's many mansions, Close beside the Crystal sea. Page Two Hundred Forty-two WHAT YOU CAN HAVE. IF you haven't beautiful eyes, dear, To win admiration and praise, Nor beautiful golden hair, dear. You can have winning ways. If you haven't beautiful hands, dear, They can be willing and true. And goodness is better than beauty, dear. Ever the whole world through. If you haven't a beautiful face, dear, The world calls fair and sweet. You can have an honest smile, dear, Earth's weary ones to greet. If you haven't beautiful clothes, dear. Nor jewels rich and rare. You can have kindly words, dear, For all, and every where. If you haven't a stately dwelling, dear All filled with earthly gain, You can have your heart a temple, dear, Where the Prince of Peace will reign. 1890. Page Two Hundred Forty-three THE CENTURY'S LAST DECADE. WE are standing on the threshold Of the Century's last decade ; And we hail the glorious dawning Of its fast approaching morning, While we view the progress made, Of a nation growing stronger As the Century's growing old ; And the nine decades behind us Do but earnestly remind us What the future yet may hold. Unto it the key is given To the treasury of the past ; With it unknown mines shall open. As the present giveth token, Yielding up its riches vast. Lo ! the distant bells are ringing. And a mighty host appears ; Thought and labor step are keeping ; While the golden harvest reaping Crowns the Century's closing years. 1891. Page Two Hundred Forty-four CROSSING THE RUBICON. To the class of 1891 of Nashville High School. TO the threshold of life's labor Swift the years have led you on ; Are you ready for the conflict. Having crossed the Rubicon ? Have you now declared for battle As did Caesar anciently? But with intellectual weapons May you gain the victory. Where neither plebeian nor patrician, But true worth alone shall rule ; Where with equal chance for winning, You have entered life's great school. And we give you joyous greeting, To your work but just begun; While we ask for richest blessings On the class of Ninety-one. Page Ttvo Hundred Forty-five THE KING'S BUSINESS. ''The King's business requires haste." MAKE haste, O soul, to do the bidding Of heaven's royal King; For golden sheaves to-day are waiting, Thy hand alone may bring ; Let not the bounteous harvest waste, ''The King's business requires haste." Make haste, O soul, for weary ones Are fainting by the way. It may be for a cheering word That only thou canst say ; Then neither time nor talent waste, "The King's business requires haste." Make haste, O soul, and tarry not. The message sweet to give. Of rest and peace and tenderness. That dying ones may live; That all may living waters taste, "The King's business requires haste." 1891. Page Two Hundred Forty-six NASHVILLE CHAUTAUQUA CLASS OF 1888. Read at the first Alumni meeting December 8, 1891. ♦'T^ WAS not in sunny days of youth, A But, nearing its equator Was life, when first we grasped the hand Of dear old Alma Mater. Boys will be boys and girls be girls, Tho' hair be streaked with gray ; And each renews his youth again On glad Alumni day. With Plato long and hard we wrestled. While Socrates near by, Was beaming on us steadily With searching critic's eye. Ah, how we racked our poor old brains With leading Greek and Roman, And never stopped until we scanned The scenes on Boston Common. Page Two Hundred Forty-seven And when to rest from deeper thought, With sHght imagination, We all were dining on roast pig, With Charles Lamb's dissertation. Now some are east and some are west, And thus our number's broken. But written messages breathe forth Of true class love the token. We'll sing Chautauqua's worthy praise, For rich the feast she's giving To young and old who fain would seek, And strive for nobler living. Her banquet halls shall echo loud With pleasure earned by labor ; And universal knowledge claim All mankind as neighbor. We live again the by-gone years. Midst lessons and debate; And ever bright in memory keep Class ties of Eighty-eight. Page Ttvo Hundred Forty-eight LILACS. DEAR blossoms, so early to come, When spring-time covers the land; Thy lofty but pale-tinted bloom Doth make the heart to expand With thoughts that are noble and pure As thy own sweet delicate hue ; And thus in the spring-time early, We sing a glad welcome to you. And oft to the dear old homestead You take me on memory's wing. Where father and mother so loved you, And welcomed the blossoms of spring; And now in their home over yonder Where joys are pure as the snow, I wonder if lilacs immortal On the hills of eternity grow. I love to think that earth's beauty In added lustre will shine, In transcendent glory of heaven, Where both worlds join to combine The works of a loving Creator ; And that flowers familiar here, Will bloom in undying verdure In the beautiful land over there. 1892. Page Tivo Hundred Forty-nine THE RAINBOW. THE light reflects thro' nature's tears, Behold the rainbow bright; Each tint a precious promise holds, Could we but see aright. And not alone one promise each, But seventy times the seven ; Our earth is daily looking up To take the gifts of heaven. Seed-time and harvest, sun and rain. Through all succeeding years ; The summer's heat, the winter's cold, The spring-time's dewy tears. Shall hasten bud and blossom forth To bless the homes of men ; And nevermore shall swelling flood Destroy the world again. His promises forevermore Will sure and steadfast be ; Recorded in the Book of books. Bequeathed to you and me. Page Two Hundred Fifty Bright bow of promise to each and all, Bright legacy from above ; In seven bright tints resplendent shine The Father's infinite love. Red, orange, yellow, green and blue. With indigo and violet blend ; Wrought by artistic hand divine. All human arts transcend. The red a promise of victory If faithful to the last; To such a crown of life is given When earthly warfare's past. The orange, promise of length of days, Long life and happiness, To those who walk in wisdom's ways, And onward, upward press. The yellow, of wealth in the city where The walls are of jasper made ; With precious stones and diamonds rare Are the twelve foundations laid. The green, a promise of endless youth, With new glories to unfold ; Where leaves ne'er wither nor flowers fade, And the dwellers never grow old. Page Two Hundred Fifty-one Blue, the promise of eternal truth, Makes free the children of men; And bread upon the waters cast Will surely return again. Indigo, promise of joy and peace, Of endless life and rest: Of a rock of refuge unto all By storm or heat oppressed. Violet, promise of royal robes For children of the King Through faith, who conquer in his name. Shall songs of triumph sing. As doth this token of old, so may Our lives as sweetly blend In colors rich for the life that is, And the one that ne'er shall end. 1892. Page Tivo Hundred Fifty-ttvo JUNIOR CLASS SONG OF 1892. Tune: ''Drifting zvith the Tide!' IN the dear old school-room gathered, While the years are gliding by ; Brave in heart and strong in purpose, On the prize we've fixed our eye ; And we'll ne'er give o'er the battle Till we sing the victor's lay, And the portals open for us — waiting. We are waiting, waiting for the day. We are waiting for the day. We are waiting for the day. When the portals shall swing open — waiting, We are waiting, waiting for the day. We are drinking at the fountain. And new beauties there we see, Daily giving inspiration To our class of Ninety-three ; And the goal for which we're aiming Sheds a light upon our way Till the portals open for us — waiting. We are waiting, waiting for the day. Page Tivo Hundred Fifty-three HOW THE WOMEN EARNED A DOLLAR EACH TOWARD THE PARSONAGE. THE women met and spake They one unto another, Saying, something must be done In some way or other, For all know a parsonage Our Church is greatly needing, And if we give the subject A little serious heeding. And if we each and all Become more enterprising, We'll soon behold the structure Before our eyes uprising. And so they all decided While counseling together. They would each earn a dollar ; And no matter whether The work be hard or easy, Or be in fine or homely, Only so it be respectable. Surely honest and comely; And for this purpose, each Her mite would contribute; Earnestly hoping friends And neighbors would distribute Page Tivo Hundred Fifty-four Their work of various kinds Among this band of workers, Being readily convinced There were none among them shirkers. Quickly some betook them To various kinds of sewing, To carpet-rags and patching. To handkerchiefs ; well knowing These things are very useful ; And no ambition lacking, Some went to selling pop-corn. And some to boot-blacking; Others to washing buggies, Selling eggs, and baking ; In every honest way An honest dollar making. Some did many ironings. Went out to house-cleaning, Never stopping to consult Which way their tastes were leaning, Some roamed the woods for flowers, And sold them in boquets ; Thus proving where there's a will There are also many ways. Found a ready sale for greens At a popular hotel; Old bottles cleaned and scoured. Sold equally as well Page Two Hundred Fifty-five To patronizing doctors Who bought them by the score, And used them as effectually As if never used before. Horse-radish found a market, And brought the meagre prize To martyrs at the grater, With tearful streaming eyes. One worker earned her dollar In tender care she's taken Of a brood of little pigs. By their mother all forsaken ; The care was all too tender, For e're the work was done, Amidst their fair surroundings. They all died but one. At an enterprising factory One fortunately found That paper-rags, the best Brought two cents per pound ; Others in teaching music. In knitting and crocheting. And thus in various ways Their tact and skill displaying ; So very numerous, I Have not the time to mention, Nor lay them all before Your very kind attention ; Page Two Hundred Fifty-six But trusting this sufficient To prove to all the wise The great unyielding power Of woman's enterprise. 1892. EVA. For her fiftieth birthday. July, 3, 1892. T^ HE storm-king heralds his coming -■■ In thundering tones afar ; Battles with fierce steels clashing, Proclaim the clamor of war; We list to the tumult of the spheres, But softly, silently pass the years. To-day concludes the story A half a century's told ; Many the threads of sombre The golden threads enfold ; A woven fabric life appears, With lights and shades at fifty years. Page Two Hundred Fifty-seven In childhood looking forward, How endless seemed the way ; But now in backward looking, 'Tis but an yesterday; Thro' varied changes time endears A faithful friend at fifty years. The cherished home of childhood At dear old Saranac, With youthful friends and pleasures Comes softly stealing back; You live again devoid of fears. Life's morning o'er at fifty years. How rich and rare the paintings On memory's wall you see. Of loved and vanished faces, A blessed company; Their waiting welcome in yonder spheres, Shall cheer to-day thy fifty years. Page Two Hundred Fifty-eight AT NOONTIDE. LORD, grant us a noon-day blessing, That maketh our burdens light ; One calm sweet hour of resting Between the morning and night. The earth and our souls are thirsty, And hungry for bread from above; Reach down, O Father, in mercy. Thine infinite arms of love. Grant Thy peace and forgiveness To us in our toil mid-way; For the help our souls most needeth. We crave in the heat of the day. Strength to win in the conflict We plead at the noontide hour; When human hearts are faintest. Come Thou in sweetness and power. O, grant us a noon-day blessing That shall brighten the afternoon, And be as a song at night-time, A song the angels attune. 1892. Page Two Hundred Fifty-nine RETROSPECT. WHEN we are gathered home to heaven In the beautiful home of God, I think, my friend, we will retrospect On the earthly paths we've trod. When our tired feet are rested quite. From travel of weary years ; When our eyes are bathed with heavenly light. That here were dimmed with tears, I think we then will backward look. And wonder how it could be. That ever we fainted by the way, That ever we could not see. That just above us, and beyond The worry and care and strife, There 'waited us at the pearly gates A crown of endless life; And wonder that we quickened not Our slow and lagging pace At the thought of rest, of joy and home. At the end of the crowded race. Thus, when we're gathered home to heaven. In the beautiful home of God, I think, my friend, we will retrospect On the earthly paths we've trod. 1892. Page Two Hundred Sixty TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. DEAR poet, thou hast Hved to be "The last leaf upon the tree" Of poet friends ; One by one they've left thy side, Borne out upon the unseen tide Where earth-life ends. And yet thou art not left alone. For loving hearts in every zone Their greeting give, With blessings on thy life of cheer. That long has been a blessing here, And still dost live. Crowned with a love that's always young. And with the immortal gift of song. Sweet bard sing on; Thy unseen friends shall join the lay, Thy poet friends of yesterday. Whose words ring on. 1892. Page Two Hundred Sixty-one AT DAY-BREAK. THE hour seems fleetest, The birds sing sweetest At break of day ; Visions the clearest, And truths the dearest Light up the way. Flowers the fairest In beauty the rarest, Shine thro' the dew ; The light is breaking, And hearts are waking To life anew. The glorious morning The earth adorning, Breaks forth in praise; O ! sacred in power, O ! holiest hour. Light all our days. 1892. Page Two Hundred Sixty-two MARY AND ATLANTA. PATIENCE and faithfulness I found Within two sisters' lives ; Enthroned in loving loyalty That time and change survives. Mary, thro' years of weary pain From patience never swerves ; Atlanta, with true sister love Ever faithfully serves. And thus thro' many months and years, While one by one have gone From out this household, there remaii? Two hearts that beat as one. O patience rare ! devotion true ! That angels must admire, And in their admiration add New notes unto their lyre. 1892. Page Two Hundred Sixty-three so LITTLE TIME BETWEEN. SO little time between The morning and the night; Our task is but begun When comes the waning light. So little time between The year's first day and last ; So brief a life appears When that brief life is past. 1893. DREAMLAND. INTO the unknown land of sleep we go Each night a stranger, and the morning's glow Explaineth not the silent realms we press, Wandering conscious of our unconsciousness Midst realms of unreality ; O dreamland strange! thou land of mystery. 1893. Page Two Hundred Sixty-four A CHRIST IS RISEN. "He is not here. He is risen. T earliest dawning, On Easter morning, The birds repeat In carols sweet, Christ is risen. The valleys are ringing With brooklets singing And flowers repeat The story sweet, Christ is risen. 1893. Page Two Hundred Sixty-five HEAR THE ROBINS SING. IF thy heart is sad and dreary When nature welcomes spring, I pray thee just to stop awhile And hear the robins sing. If for loved ones thou art grieving, Borne off on angel's wing, I pray thee now to list awhile And hear the robins sing. New joy, new life and happiness Within thy heart shall spring, If only thou wilt wait awhile And hear the robins sing, 1893. Page Two Hundred Sixty-six POOR AND RICH. POOR indeed is the millionaire With houses and lands and rent, Poor indeed with his coffers of gold, If he has not content. Rich indeed is the poorest one Whose life in toil is spent, If with his toil and poverty. He's blest with sweet content. 1893. BOOKS. WHEN other friendships fail me, Prove faithless and untrue, I turn with satisfaction. Dear, changeless books, to you. 1893. Page Two Hundred Sixty-seven COLUMBIA'S INVITATION. The World's Exposition at Chicago. COLUMBIA extends her hand To friends across the seas ; A welcome on her banner proud, Floats out on every breeze. In honor of four hundred years Of life's prosperity, A full grown nation spreads her board For all humanity. And asks that guests their treasures bring, Their work of brain and hand ; While nature adds her wondrous store, Of gems from every land. The mighty intellect of man Whose research never ends. But thirsts for broader fields to find, For knowledge that extends. Through greatest possibilities Of earth and air and sea. Forever onward in the course To richest destiny. Page Ttvo Hundred Sixty-eight Thus all the arts and sciences True witness of his skill, In every land beneath the sun Attest his mighty will. And not alone the works of man, But man himself, from shores Strange and remote, shall Here awhile Live and dispense his stores. And thus shall every tribe of earth Be gathered in one place. That a curious world may see and learn The diversities of race. From farthest eastern gates of morn, And past the sunset's glow, From Labrador to Egypt, still They come in ceaseless flow. And so to foreign lands we give Glad welcome to our own ; Our valleys, streams and mountain heights A grand and royal throne. 1893. Page Two Hundred Sixty-nine ON THE SEA. T HE moonlight kisses the sea, The waves look up to the sky ; The sailor is longing for home, And shoreward turns his eye. The stars shine on and on In their own high sea of blue; The night is gently sprinkling The tired earth with dew. And on the sea of life, Its ever restless tide. We're sailors one and all O'er waters deep and wide. We're sailing on and on. And soon we'll sight the land ; Each eventide shall bring us Nearer the verdant strand. The moonlight kisses the sea. The waves look up to the sky ; The sailor is longing for home. And heavenward lifts his eye. 1893. Page Two Hundred Seventy THE UNATTAINABLE. ''There is always something unattainable, and that this is so is one of the profoundest blessings of lifer "The desire of the moth for the star nerves its wings for loftiest flight ." O ECAUSE we do not know, •L' Because we cannot tell, More fervently we seek The goal invisible; And life's Olympics urge us on To higher heights and richer crown. Because of mystery That all our ways surround, Because each day and hour We tread on mystic ground. We strive with keener eyes to see The glories of the time to be. Thus toward the unattained We urge our weary feet ; And heights of full completeness Beckon the incomplete; Until forgetting all life's bars. Our flight is upward toward the stars. 1894. Page Two Hundred Seventy -one HOMESICK FOR MOTHER AND HEAVEN. I'M homesick for mother and heaven, For her dear loving smile and her voice ; And I wonder how long 'ere she greet me In the land where the weary rejoice. I long for her hands to caress me, Her dear patient hands true and kind ; Like magic they calmed the heart's fever. None like them on earth do I find. Her words and her footsteps were music, Far sweeter than any I hear; And with naught but music celestial, Can the melody ever compare. My feet are so weary, earth weary. The road so uneven and rough ; O when shall we meet by life's river And she whisper, "dear child, 'tis enough." 1894. Page Two Hundred Seventy-two ONLY FOUR LINES. ONLY four lines was the poem, But I thought as I read it o'er, That a book of a hundred pages. Of truth, could contain no more. It brought to me rest, soul weary, A jewel to prize and to keep, And so in the midst of my sorrow I smiled and forgot to weep. THE STORY OF A STAR. A star from the kitchen window a woman saw at early even, And straightway her thoughts from earth were lifted unto heaven ; And the heavy burdens of the day were forgot- ten in the light Of the beautiful star that seemed to sing of the glories of the night ; Her heart grew young her footstep free, her thoughts were roaming afar. And many wonderful things she saw in the face of the glittering star. Page Two Hundred Seventy-three The friends of youth with joy and song, she saw in pictures fair, Had come again to cheer her heart and drive away her care; There broad green fields and meadows sweet that bubbling streams run through, And flowers like those of childhood's days all kissed with sparkling dew. The star said softly "dearer than these and bet- ter yet shall be The days to come, and the future life in the great eternity." An orphan looked up with sad deep eyes to the same sweet star and said: *T wonder how far the journey would be to yon- der bright home led : Do father and mother live with you there and share your shining light, And do they look with pitying eyes on their lonely child to-night ?" Then quickly down from the star, a chain of gold- en links there fell Of faith and love and hope that ever shall guard the lone one well. Page Two Hundred Seventy-four An artist by his easel pondered with picture half complete, And quite discouraged for the lack of inspiration meet; While just above the curtain folds at early even- tide. A saucy, twinkling star peeped in, arousing all his pride : He saw within its splendors rare high mountains and deep streams. Then eager with his brush in hand, with skill portrayed his dreams. A poet left his song unsung, because, he said *tis clear The world with song is over-fraught and none my notes would hear. Just then the brighest star of all showed other stars near by. One crowded not the other in the firmament on high : With hope he took his pen in hand and wrote a simple lay, Some heart was waiting for the words that only he could say. Page Two Hundred Seventy-five A theologian in his study weary and sad at heart, Had striven many years to gain of knowledge a larger part ; This day from early dawn he'd toiled and now 'twas late at night; He turned him from his study lamp, and from the dim firelight. To look out at the window, while his thoughts were wandering far. And in the darkness he beheld the twinkling of a star. And musing on the beauty of the scenes that come to view, On the old historic pictures that now seem wondrous new. And o'er the surface of the star in panoramic form. There dips a boat on Galilee, in a wild terrific storm. As he sees the lightning glimmer and hears the thunder's din, There comes the calm assurance that the Master sleeps within. Page Two Hundred Seventy-six And the angry waves seen tossing the little ship now cease ; For behold, the voice of the Master speaks the tempest into peace. Now fast the scene is changing, and there ap- pears a quiet home Upon Mount Olive's eastern slope, where Christ the Lord doth come A welcome guest at Bethany when weary he oft would turn. And the favored and happy household would sit at his feet and learn. A teacher said at the close of day, I fear 'tis all in vain ; No fruit of my labor do I see the heights I can't attain. Then in the light of a star he saw fair groups of children stand; And in the midst a form resplendent in bless- ing lays His hand Upon each little head, and then tenderly hears him speak : "Likewise must ye become who the Kingdom of heaven seek." 1894. Page Two Hundred Seventy-seven LINES. Impromptu. DON'T try to do all the singing In this great world of ours ; Nor monopolize the sunshine, Nor gather all the flowers. Leave some to thy fellow pilgrims, There's enough for all to share ; With all the pleasures given There's still enough of care. Don't try to keep all the blessings, But scatter them as you go ; In the midst of all our comforts There remains enough of woe. 1894. Page Two Hundred Seventy-eight POPPIES AMONG THE CORN. 'T^IS the smile of nature, the poet thought, ■■■ Enraptured with the scene ; The wave of minghng colors rich, The scarlet among the green. But the farmer took a different view, A look forlorn, A look of scorn He gave to the poppies among the corn. The beauty side to the artist eye Was the only one revealed ; He gathered then the harvest of sight, Nor thought of the later yield ; While the farmer pondered on the soil A look forlorn, A look of scorn He gave to the poppies among the corn. We miss the light of present days. We mar it with borrowed care ; And often better than we think. The future harvests are. But the farmer sighed o'er the crop to come,, A look forlorn, A look of scorn He gave to the poppies among the corn. 1894. Page Two Hundred Seventy-nine CHERISHED WORDS. Inscribed to Mrs. Caroline E. Smith. HOW we cherish the thoughtful words That were spoken by loved ones gone ; They have power to solace our grief, As they come to us ever anon. They were loving words to cheer us 'Ere they fled from our sight away ; They strengthen us for life's burdens, While we ponder them night and day. When the world crowds hard with its care, And we falter amidst the strife, Then we think of their tender words And peace again comes to our life. "The voice that is hushed yet speaketh," i The "silence is louder than speech;" We listen enwrapt with wonder. And we live in the thoughts they teach. 1894. Page Two Hundred Eighty ONE SUMMER DAY. Read at the Nichols' family reunion Aug. 21, 1894. NOW paint me a picture, oh artist I pray, Of a joyous picnic on a summer day; As I shall describe it look sharply about, And paint me the picture with nothing left out. The place of location, a green leafy dell. Where the hills and the rocks are guarding it well, The ledges o'er hanging a beautiful stream. Of a sweeter ideal no fairy could dream. The boats that glide over its wavelets so fair Send musical ripples upon the soft air ; And over the islands of beauty and calm Is wafted the incense of heaven's own balm. And now the gay revellers are gathering about, One day from dull care to be freely shut out ; Not all of them young, nor what you'd call fair, 'Tis a gathering of kindred from near and from far. Page Two Hundred Eighty-one There are children and youth, middle aged and old; — There artist, I've made a mistake ! for I'm told That this generation and tribe here to-day Forever remain fair and youthful and gay. You may paint a few wrinkles in faces at ease, But in painting their hearts paint them young if you please For the youngest and merriest that here appears Are the ones that have passed greatest number of years. The table with richest of bounties is spread, A young man past eighty you see at the head ; With blessings implored and thanks duly given. This day is a foretaste of reunion in heaven. There are tales of the old-times mixed with the new ; Now which times are best? We must leave it to you Who have tested them all, and think you will say The old were best then, and the new best to-day. Page Two Hundred Eighty-two With songs and good cheer the hours swiftly fly, And soon each must say to the other ''Good-bye ;" When another year's passed and this gathering you see, How many chairs vacant, think you Artist, there'll be ? But you're not to paint what in future may come ; Only this day's pleasures, as sweet groves we roam, And sit on the banks of Grand River so dear. And look in the faces of loved ones met here. We'll not borrow trouble, it comes plenty soon ; At evening it may be, at morning or noon ; But trusting in this, that whatever befall. One kind loving Father is caring for all. Page Two Hundred Eighty-three EVEN ME. I love to think the words Christ spoke To His disciples by the sea, That even now those loving words He speaks to me. I love to think as He visits oft The hillside home at Bethany, That in my home, like guest of old, He visits me. I love to think the words that made Poor blind Bartimaeus to see, Christ speaks to all earth's blinded ones, And speaks to me. I love to think the words of power That calmed the waves of Galilee, In all the fiercest storms of life Bring peace to me. I love to think, as He met the two Toward Emmaus, and made them see New scripture truths, that even so He speaks to me. And as they begged the Master then. As night drew on, their guest to be. Even so with longing heart I plead. Abide with me. 1894. Page Two Hundred Eighty-four THE PAST. "There are some who want to get rid of all their past; who if they could would begin all over again; hut you must learn, you must let God teach you that the only way to get rid of your past is to get a future out of it/'— Phillips Brooks. f S your past all full of mistakes, •■• Would you like to begin again ? Does it haunt you with vain regrets, And bring to you sorrow and pain ? Would you like to blot it all out Just as if it never had been ? Would you like to try it over, And think you could perfect it then ? Ah, well, as that never can be, Thrice blessed is he who can find The sweet in the bitter, and see The good, though with evil combined. From saddest mistakes of the past The sweetest of poems are born ; The bright inspiration of thought Oft comes from the heart grief torn. Page Two Hundred Eighty-five And tears into jewels may turn, As lessons of charity come; — To make the best use of the past, Is to get a future therefrom. 1894. MUST AND MAY. WE meet life's troubles because we must ; We triumph because we may ; Forever sure the promise stands ; Thy strength shall be as thy day. We lift life's burdens because we must ; We sing because we may ; Faithfully swings the old earth 'round, And night's no longer than day. We weep and laugh, we doubt and trust ; Thus glide the years away ; Some things we do because we must. And some because we may. 1894. Page Two Hundred Eighty-six OUT OF THE OLD HOME. NINETEEN years in the dear old home ! Now out of it into the new ; What shall we take and what shall we leave Of these years we've journeyed through? We'll try to leave all doubts and fears, And take the joy of the blessed years. Our father's smiles and words of cheer We'll take wherever we go ; And try to forget the sad farewell We said in the long ago ; xA.nd look for joy the morning will bring, In the land of flowers and endless spring. We'll take our mother's tenderest love, Her abiding trust and faith. That made the most of this earthly life, And that triumphed over death. These memories sweet like the morning dew, We take from the old house into the new. My dear old Home ! so sweet, so sad ; One scared earthly shrine ; Tho' stranger feet now tread your floors, I still shall call you mine ; Tho' faces strange from the windows meet Mine as I pass along the street. 1894. Page Two Hundred Eighty-seven THE ENDING OF THE SUMMER. Othe ending of the summer ! O the shortened fleeting days ! We are standing retrospecting, At the parting of the ways ; In the closing summer days, The ending of the summer. O the seed-time and the harvest ! Quickly vanished through life's maze ; Wherefore have ye left us wondering, At the parting of the ways ? In the closing summer days. The ending of the summer. O the magnitude of moments ! O the value of the days. As we view them when they've left us At the parting of the ways ; In the closing summer days. The ending of the summer. 1894. Page Two Hundred Eighty-eight SEPTEMBER DAYS. THE calm September days have come, The mellow light on field and home Brings restfulness ; The bending fruit on tree and vine, The varied harvest all combine To give and bless. The merry school-boy's laugh and shout Upon the quiet air rings out. For school's begun ; With hope and aspiration high. Ambition in his sparkling eye. And thought and fun. The waving plumes of golden-rod By stream and roadside bend and nod, Saying, remember That we our annual visit make, And bid you all the joy partake Of sweet September. 1894. Page Two Hundred Eighty-nine OUT OF SIGHT. SMILE not my boy or girl At raiment homely and worn; It may be a king Might envy the ring Of good-will that 'neath it is borne. Under the faded garments, Under the patches profuse, There may be a heart Acts well its part, And is to the world of use. There is a meat that perisheth. And vestments that decay; But a soul that's clad With truth, makes glad A life of endless day. 1894. Page Two Hundred Ninety "I CAN AND I WILL." I ((T can and I will" have broken down Many a barrier for peasant or crown. "I can and I will" have proven true That what has been done one still can do. Real or imagined, chained or unchained, The lion is passed and the goal attained. No mountain too high or stream too deep To be climbed or forded for those who keep These giants strong whom the fates obey, As companions along the world's highway. *T can and I will" a dauntless pair, Will make their way through foul or fair — Wonderful, mighty, conquering host. Who never yet a battle have lost. 'T can and I will" shall never retreat, But make a path for the faithful feet. 1894. Page Two Hundred Ninety-one TO WHITTIER. WHEN I attempt to speak thy praise, Dear poet of the quiet ways, My lips are dumb. Thy words have thrilled My soul from childhood ; and oft stilled My sad unrest. Thy simple faith Hath made beautiful life and death; And all the chords of doubt hath rent With thy sweet spirit of content. I wonder what great, glad surprise Was waiting thy dear loving eyes When to heaven thy soul took flight, And all thy faith was lost in sight. Enough for thee, as here, so there. The blessedness of answered prayer; For all soul longings earth denied Thy Father's love hath satisfied. 1894. Page Two Hundred Ninety-two WHERE THE TWO WAYS MEET. Ofor a glimpse of the unseen land, And the loved ones gone before us ! O for a clasp of the dear, dear hands. And a sound of the heavenly chorus ! Methinks 'twould lighten earth's lonely way, To see, through the mists, the ending ; And view above faith's mountain top The infinite beauty blending. If our impatient feet could stand For a moment at the meeting Of the earthly with the heavenly way. And hear the angels' greeting. It might be we could face life's storms Through the fleeting years with pleasure, Knowing at last our aching hearts Receive of love full measure. 1894. Page Two Hundred Ninety-three AUTUMN. "The melancholy days have come The saddest of the year!' — Bryant. THE leaves are gently falling This calm October morn; The ground with frost is sparkling 'Neath rays of Autumn sun. There's sadness in the beauty Of the richly tinted leaves ; And for the summer dying Dear kindly nature grieves. There's promise of the spring-time, The years have proved it true The seed-time and the harvest Unfailing life renew. And by the golden fruitage Piled high and broad about, We trust the earth's abundance. We trust and never doubt. 1894. Page Two Hundred Ninety-four TOPSY, TONY AND TURK. DEAR old Topsy, faithful and true, Long traversed the country through and through With her master, the doctor, when life was new ; Helped gather his wealth, the first and the best, And earned for herself an evening of rest. Now kind hands care for the old horse dear ; For her, dainty morsels often appear ; Kind words and caresses, and sometimes a tear; Worn out in the service, intelligent, true, It must be a future is waiting for you. Dear, Tony, the bird, our household pet, With sweetest of melodies charms us yet. And drives away care and worry and fret ; He left long ago his south-land home To sing in the land where snow-storms come. Many a year with us he has passed. And each year we think it may be the last; And always the thought a shadow will cast. Some dear ones who loved him have passed away To a fairer land and a perfect day. Page Two Hundred Ninety-five Then Turk, the dog, of our love claims a share; His young master thinks no others compare In dog-like qualities, knowing and rare. Thus round about us lovingly lurk Our three pets, Topsy, Tony and Turk. 1894. FETTERED. UNFASTEN your boat, my friend, Break loose from the mud and sand; You never can sail the deep With your boat still fast to land. Unwind the string, my boy. If you your kite would fly; You never can test its flight If wound and held close by. Break loose thy fetters, oh soul. Thy struggles are all in vain; With chords of life earth-bound Thou'lt never the heights attain. 1895. Page Two Hundred Ninety-six WHEN JESUS CAME TO BETHLEHEM, THERE was joy and there was sadness, Just the same as here and now : There was want and there was sorrow, There was many an aching brow, When Jesus came to Bethlehem. Some were longing for His coming, Waiting for the healing hand ; Some were doubting, some believing. But His fame spread through the land, When Jesus came to Bethlehem. Love He gave like to no other; Take it ; it is thine and mine ; Words He spoke as no man speaketh, Words of life and power divine, When Jesus came to Bethlehem. Hearts grown faint and weary, rested; Lips once dumb broke forth in praise ; And the children shared His blessing While He walked the earthly ways, When Jesus came to Bethlehem. Page Two Hundred Ninety-seven Multitudes to-day are pressing, Just as eagerly to know, And to drink of living fountains. As nineteen hundred years ago. When Jesus came to Bethlehem. Dearer grows the old, old story. As the ages roll away; Time's fulfilling all the promise. In whom a world's redemption lay. When Jesus came to Bethlehem. O sacred land of Palestine! The winding paths and hills where trod, Through noontide heat and twilight hour. The ever blessed Son of God, Jesus who came to Bethlehem. 1894. Page Two Hundred ^Ninety-eight IN MEMORY OF IRVING BOSTON. Who perished in the waves, with a young boy (Clayton Barnes) whom he tried to rescue, while skating on the river, Dec. 4, 1894. w E wondered that the moon and stars so calmly could look down ; With undiminished splendor shine upon our stricken town ; When on that lonely winter night, with unrelent- ing breath, And without one moment's warning, came the icy hand of death, Taking one in early manhood, and one he tried to save, A helpless form when sinking 'neath the cold and cruel wave. The night was still ; the fleecy clouds rolled silent on their way ; Did they know that hearts were breaking at the close of that sad day ? Could they look down and weep not o'er the desolation wrought? In one short hour from mirth to grief so many hearts were brought. Page Two Hundred Ninety-nine The mortal and immortal land how short a step divides Here the weeping and the waiting ; there endless life abides. "THE MASTER IS COME, AND CALLETH FOR THEE." Oye with idle, folded hands ; O ye with downcast eyes and sad ; Even to you the message glad, With light and life and hope expands — "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." Even to you in lonely retreat, Long o'er shadowed by hope deferred, Cometh the soul-inspiring word. The annunciation tenderly sweet : "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." Awake, arise ! bright dawns the day ; The east is glowing with golden light. The night is spent, the hours take flight ; Haste to respond, dream not of delay, "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." 1895. Page Three Hundred IN MEMORIAM. Mrs. Maud M. Hough-Holly. AN angel paused beside the couch where lay One young in years, but faint with suffer- ing. He touched with pitying hand the tired eyes, That closed forevermore in peace and rest; Then to the silence of the unseen world A new life entered in. Another touched The seamless robe and henceforth was made whole. And now by living streams in blooming fields. Beyond the gates of morn, beckons a hand; And sad hearts comforted smile and look up. 1895. THE ANGELUS. ''Angelus Domini nuntiavit mariae." TJE comes, of whom the prophets long foretold, •■■•■' To break the bondage of a world in sin, A Prince victorious, though crowned with thorns. And pierced with nails and with the cruel spear. In token of His coming, oh sweet bell. Page Three Hundred One Repeat the glad announcement o'er and o'er As first 'twas spoken unto Mary when A waiting world sought a deliverer. Ave Maria! Sweet Angelus, peal forth At early sunrise and the noontide hour, And when the shades of evening veil the land ; Wherever there is toiling, let it cease. And faithful hearts lift unto heaven a prayer, For lo. He comes ! He comes ! the hills rejoice And into singing break. The mountains leap. Floods clap their hands ! For soon, ah soon, the earth The sacred impress of His feet shall bear Who saves a world and brings it back to God, And gives to man a resurrection morn. O honored angel, Gabriel ! to be The bearer of the message that has rung With glowing tenderness adown the years, And yet shall sound through ages long to come. And tell the story of the Prince of Peace, The great redemption wrought on Calvary. 1895. Page Three Hundred Two ODE. Inscribed to the L O. O. F. by the author, in memory of her father who was a devoted mem- ber of the Order. Tune: Ellesdie. ¥ N the love that reaches outward ■'• To a brother in his need, Be he stranger or of kindred May he find us friends indeed. As the shepherd lad of Judah, And the king's prince royal son, Prove that friendship knows no station, But true hearts may beat as one. By our words and worthy actions We the golden links commend ; Friendship, Love and Truth the token Of the cause that we defend. Till Odd-Fellowship's grand mission Reaches all both high and low ; And the weary heavy laden Shall its blessed influence know. Page Three Hundred Three As lived Jonathan and David Firmly joined in heart and hand, So we pledge our sacred honor, By our brothers true to stand; Till from labor to refreshment In the kingdom of the blest, We are called to join our loved ones Gone before us into rest. 1895. OPENING ODE. Written for Alumni meetings of Nashville high school. Tune — Marching through Georgia. SING the song of gladness now and with a pur- pose true ; Sing it with a right good-will and in the spirit too; Sing the chorus loud and long just as we used to do, While we were school-mates together. Chorus : We come ! we come ! our Alma Mater dear ; All Hail ! all Hail ! oh sound the bugle clear ; So we sang the chorus loud that echoed far and near. While we were school-mates together. Page Three Hundred Four Hail our own America, her public schools our pride ; Dotting every hill and vale o'er all our country wide; Sing her praise as then we sang it, like the roll- ing tide ; While we were school-mates together. 1895. CLOSING ODE. Written for Alumni meetings of Nashville high school. Tune: '^ America." WE now must say "good-night;" The happy hours take flight. And we must part. To greet the coming day. And duty's call obey, O may she ever sway Each trusting heart. Until we meet again ; — O let the sweet refrain Our souls entwine; May peace our steps attend. May each dear school-mate friend Be kept unto the end By love divine. Page Three Hundred Five •I Again we say "Good-night f The golden hours take flight, And part we must Grateful for old school-days, Now with the voice of praise Our hearts to God we raise, In Him we trust. 1895. LINES ADDRESSED TO THE MOON. O pale-faced moon ! you are looking to-night On a grave that is far away, Near the Ocean waves that lull to sleep The weary at close of day. On the graves at our side you are looking down. And you span the pathway between ; The mountains and streams are only a step. All wrapt in thy silvery sheen. No distance to thee are the graves apart, And thy beams do the earth embrace; Do you pity, we wonder, the aching hearts. That to-night look up in thy face? Page Three Hundred Six O beautiful moon ! you are looking at once On the mirth and grief of a day; So closely gathered with wings of thought Are the near and the far away. 1895. "REST, AND BE THANKFUL." Written for a sleeping room. "When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet/' — Prov. III-24. "The Lord will command his loving kindness in the day-time, and in the night his song shall be with me." — Psalms XLII-8. REST thee now, oh pilgrim weary; Sweetly sleep till morning light ; He who slumbers not will guard thee, Safely keep thee through the night; ''Rest and be thankful." Art thou care-worn mind or body, 'Neath this shelter find repose; Take no trouble for the morrow. Now let peace thine eye-lids close. "Rest, and be thankful." 1895. Page Three Hundred Seven OUR MATTIE. BLITHESOME little maiden fair, Bright blue eyes and golden hair, Breezy as a June day rare; Our Mattie. Sweet her voice in song doth ring, Clear as bluebird on the wing. Or as robin in the Spring : Our Mattie. But the years move on apace, And in laughing childhood's place, A stately maiden form doth grace Our Mattie. While life still is bright and new, Silently like morning dew. Swiftly vanishes from view. Our Mattie. He who calms life's fiercest storms, Speaking peace through earth's alarms, Folds in Everlasting Arms Our Mattie. 1895. Page Three Hundred Eight MAKE HASTE. IF you've anything to say To make this old world better, Be it word of cheer or warning, In lecture, sermon, letter, You would better say it quickly, For the great impatient throng Will not tarry long to listen ; But perchance a strain of song. Or a loving message spoken. May follow as they go, — May lighten some great sorrow Or secret load of woe. The days are growing shorter And the years are growing less ; Less time to live and labor. And humanity to bless ; Then let the weary toilers Oft catch a note of cheer; Nor withhold the word of comfort Till the ears no longer hear Into which you thought to pour Some day your sweetest song. For the last of a great multitude Will soon have passed along ; For the good that comes to-morrow The world will never wait; Unless to-day you're working. It may be all too late. Page Three Hundred 'Nine THE GLAD NEWS. TELL it again — and yet once more — Repeat the glad news o'er and o'er, How He, the wondrous Son of God The earthly pathway chose and trod ; — The Christ acquainted with our grief. Who came to bring the world relief ; That "whosoever will" may know The love wherewith He loved us so. That even He on Calvary Hath died for sinners such as we. 1895. IF. IF one sad face that I have never seen Should brighten at some written thought of mine; If one sad heart should be made strangely glad By tender word, or simple, trusting line That I have penned, I'll hence forth be content, And truly glad that I the message sent. 1895. Page Three Hundred Ten, POSTPONED. A deep impression came to seek An only chance some words to speak; But we the time postponed instead, And so the words were never said. A glad new thought our being filled, And for a time our spirit thrilled ; Careless the thought away we flung, And so the song was never sung. We planned to do a kindly deed, Our heart was drawn to one in need ; That one was gone ere set of sun. And so the deed was never done. 1895. Page Three Hundred Eleven A FRIEND.* O canst thou tell the worth of one true friend ? Not one in name alone when skies are fair, When life is light and glad with fleeting mirth ; But one who faithful proves when sorrow comes, And all around our pathway seemeth dark ; O such an one was she whose form we lay Beneath the winter's snow. Whose cheery voice Is stilled. Hands folded in eternal rest. Whose spirit hears the Master say ''well done." Our human hearts repeat the words "well done ;" A loving mother and a constant friend. *Mrs. Adelaide Powles, Died Jan. 2, 1896. Page Three Hundred Twelve TO A BIRD SINGING AT TWILIGHT. WHISPER it low, sweet evening bird, Be calm in your delight ; Let not your joy now overflow, For I am sad to-night. O happy bird, sing soft and low, For darling mother's gone ; And father's chair has vacant been These many years and lone. Then let your notes be low and sweet, Perhaps they'll come again, And at this sacred twilight hour Will calm my grief and pain. O joyous bird ! can you be glad, When I am longing so For love that's gone? at least unseen, Nor can the mystery know. And yet I would not have you cease Your glad and merry lay ; Sometime, may be, I'll join your song — Perhaps — some other day. 1892. Page Three Hundred Thirteen THE ROAD-SIDE FLOWER. Adust-mantled flower by the road-side bent, Drooping with thirst, its life nearly spent ; A thoughtful child from the spring came along With pitcher in hand, and paused in her song. A look of pity she gave to the flower, Then tipped her pitcher, whence came a shower Of sparkling water that washed from the stem And the leaves, the dust that was smothering them. It reached to the roots new vigor to give, And that moment the flower decided to live ; It lifted once more its face to the sun. And thus said : "thank you" my sweet little one. Hearts weak and weary on life's dusty way. Are drooping and dying; oh give them to-day A soul-cheering word, such help they implore ; Tip your full cup of blessings and let it run o'er. 1896. Page Three Hundred Fourteen "THE EARLY CALLED." In memory of Florence McGregor. ''And early called how blest are they Who wait in heaven their harvest day." — Whit- tier. BEFORE the feet had tired grown, Before the heart had sorrow known, Or weariness ; Before the shadows veiled the skies, Or grief had dimmed the sparkHng eyes, Or joys grown less. Within the presence of the King, Her young devoted life to bring Was summoned soon; She leaves to us a memory dear, Of love and faithfulness while here, A blessed boon. Her earthly life in years was brief But long in that it lengtheneth Through coming days. By influence enduring long. Vibrating as a holy song. Now and always. Page Three Hundred Fifteen To Christ, the heavenly Master's will, Whose voice can speak the tempest still, We yield our own ; Until the bright, glad day shall come When all the loved are gathered home Around the throne. 1896. SOMEWHERE. IF the song is left unfinished When we must go ; If the task is incomplete We longed to do. Life's purposes unfulfilled; What then? what then? you ask Sometime we'll finish the song. Somewhere complete the task. 1896. Page Three Hundred Sixteen AT SIXTY YEARS. Inscribed to my sister Meda. THE sun is slanting toward the west, On life's steep hill ; The afternoon yields treasures best, To those who will. The anxious throb of noon-tide hour Is left behind ; The soul is given greater power New joys to find. The morning sun with all its glow, Is not so sweet As that which points to vales below, For weary feet. And yet beyond, the glistening dome More real seems, Till we shall find the heavenly home Outshines our dreams. 1896. Page Three Hundred Seventeen IN THE VALE AND ON THE HILL. FROM the city in the vale to the city on the hill They are taking one by one, their silent way ; One by one the faces disappear from sight, Till we question if there isn't more night than day. There is weeping in the vale, there is peace upon the hill. And sometimes we fain would join the silent throng ; There's loneliness and longing in hearts within the vale. And there's sadness even in the merriest song. They are sweetly resting in the city on the hill That o'er looks the dwellings in the vale be- low; Be patient weary toilers only a little while. To the city on the hill ye all shall go. 1896. Page Three Hundred Eighteen IN WILD-ROSE TIME. WHEN the wild roses bloom by the road-side, Wafting their fragrance on the air, Come trooping up the scenes of our childhood, We're lost in the vision sweet and fair ; For care takes flight. And hope grows bright When the wild roses bloom. The wild roses glisten through the dew-drops. Bidding us to smile through our tears ; And they come as the bright, happy land-marks. Numbering the blessings and the years ; While care takes flight, And hope grows bright When the wild roses bloom. 1896. Page Three Hundred Nineteen WHEN THE BIRDS COME BACK. WHEN the birds come back From their winter retreat, And the glad air rings With their music sweet, We know the spring is come ; And the April breeze Tells the budding trees To burst in snowy bloom. When the birds come back. When the birds come back In their choral glee, And all nature joins In the melody. We know the summer is near; And soon, ah ! soon. The roses of June In splendor will appear, When the birds come back. Page Three Hundred Twenty When the birds come back The days seem brief, With the fullness of joy In flower and leaf ; We plead for summer to stay, But all in vain. For soon again The autumn is on the way, When the birds come back. 1896. YESTERDAYS. A True Incident. SHE lived in the past when life was new, With courage strong and with much to do ; Forgetting her age and burden of years. She hurried one day midst seeming fears. In the scorching sun, thro' the garden gate, Down the dusty road crying "little one wait !" "O baby, dear baby, come back !" she said : — She was calling her child then fifty years dead ; Page Three Hundred Twenty-one Whom she thought in playing had wandered away, As she hastened to seek the feet gone astray. O power of memory ! O vision sublime ! Defying the sway of the scepter of time. Led tenderly back to her quiet retreat, Exhausted she reached her accustomed seat ; "The Lord is my shepherd," she sweetly said, As she bent on her staff her weary head, "I never shall want, for He leadeth me In pastures green where still waters be ; His goodness and mercy follow me still, And forevermore in His house I will dwell." The aged pilgrim at the end of life's road. Remembered her youth and the word of the Lord. "There's a literature of the passing hour. But this is the literature of power." 1896 Page Three Hundred Twenty-two DON QUIXOTE. A knight in royal armor clad, In the chivalrous days of yore, Went forth in pomp and dignity. The marvelous to explore; And make immortal by famous deeds His name through coming time ; Through adventures and misadventures oft. He reached the height sublime. With his attendant Sancho Panza, Who nearly his equal proved, And the much exalted Dulcimea Of imagination loved. Brave Don Quixote de la Mancha As chief knight-errant dwells, In all the varied Spanish lore Of romance quite excels. O Genius bright of modern days ! How great your debts remain To Cervantes, to myths and knights. For Castles built in Spain. 1896. Page Three Hundred Twenty-three SLEEPING AND WAKING. ''He giveth His angels charge of those who sleep, But He himself watches with those who wake/' TO the eyes that are sealed in slumber, Cometh the peace, And sweet release From toil of the day ; this the number Angels watch o'er Magic to pour Till the day dawns once more. With those who in night hours are waking, Whose eyes refuse The balm to use. That gladly sweet rest would be taking ; The Lord doth stay, A guest alway. Through the night as the day. 1896. Page Three Hundred Twenty-four KADESH-BARNEA. "We came to Kadesh-Barnea." — Deut. 1:19. Of oolish Israelites ! we're prone to say ; When thus so near the fruitful promised land, To e'er turn back to Egypt's loneliness, And weary wanderings and bondage hard; When God — thy God — whose words have never failed, To thee, O Israel, to thee hath said : Thou art well able to possess the land. Why halt ye now upon the border line. When through long marches thou at last hast come So near to Canaan's land, e'en to Kadesh. If difficulties lie before thy path, Far greater ones thou hast but just passed through ; Forward is victory and joy at last; Backward, the wilderness and Egypt's night. Page Three Hundred Twenty-five Mistaken choice ! that down the ages sounds A warning clear to nations and to men ; For every human soul sometime has come, Or come they will, to Kadesh-Barnea. Important crisis in life's destiny ; Breathless the angels wait, oh soul, to see If at Kadesh thou art lingering still — If thou shalt onward press to reach the land Whose gateway opens at the touch of Him Who trod alone His dark Gethsemane, And purchased life for thee on Calvary's mount. This land of faith and trust lies just beyond Kadesh-Barnea. Haste thee to possess it. Its vales and hills are laden with rich fruit, Ripened by breezes wafted hither o'er Celestial seas, and shedding fragrance rare Through groves and glens of this our mortal life ; And yielding foretastes sweet of what shall be Beyond the mystic vale which we call death. 1896. Page Three Hundred Twenty-six THOU HAST MADE THE EARTH BEAU- TIFUL. WHEN robed in snow or emerald green, When decked with frost or flowers, Most beautiful, O God of heaven, Thou hast made this world of ours. When Daphne wakes the waiting day, When Apollo's arrows fly, And when Selene's silver rays Illumine earth and sky; As swiftly pass the seasons each, Some glad surprise is given ; So beautiful Thou hast made the earth, O wondrous God of heaven. Written at Sunrise Dec. 23, 1896. Page Three Hundred Twenty-seven TOWARD THE HEIGHTS. To the Class of 1897 of Nashville high school. SINCE the world was young and Sappho sung 'Neath Aphrodite's sway, And wove her dreams by Lesbian streams, To charm the world alway. The human mind has been inclined To search for hidden lore ; And reaching up takes Nike's cup Of victory running o'er. With much attained, more to be gained, Your first success is won ; The open doors to endless stores Shall urge your footsteps on. May labor's skill and dauntless will Your future life-work leaven ; And lead to heights, as beacon lights. The Class of Ninety-seven. Page Three Hundred Twenty-eight HE IS RISEN. HE is risen ! Hallelujah ! Christ the Lord is risen to-day; Triumphs over death and darkness, Bids our sorrows flee away. He is risen! Hallelujah! O'er the earth the tidings spread : Joy and peace and life immortal ; Lo, He lives who once was dead. 1897. IF I HAVE MY WISH. IF in the world to come my wish I have, It will not be the gift of perfect bliss ; But what my careless heart has overlooked, The simple joys I might have had in this. If in the world to come my wish I have. It will not be the place that's near the throne ; But just to do the things that here I missed ; And be forever with my loved and own. 1897. Page Three Hundred Twenty-nine MY TIME TO DIE. I often thought in years gone by, That when it came my time to die, I'd Hke to go when trees and flowers Made beautiful this world of ours; And when the birds in spring-time song Their notes of love and joy prolong; And given my choice, was sure that I Would choose this time of all to die. But now I think were I to go When earth is wrapped in robes of snow, (Emblem of purity which heaven Grants to souls of sins forgiven.) I'd be as glad, and make no choice When I shall hear the welcome voice; But when the Master calls, may I Find that the sweet, best time to die. 1897. Page Three Hundred Thirty THE ROSEBUD IN THE SNOW. IT lay in the snow at my feet — A beautiful rosebud red, From flower-laden casket fallen, As they tenderly carried the dead From out the home where art, supreme Had reigned for years, a loving theme. It lay in the snow at my feet. As if 'twere a message given. Flung back from the portals unseen, A token of hope and of heaven : I plucked it from its snowy bed, While faith spake low : There are no dead ! 1897. Page Three Hundred Thirty-one LONGING FOR HOME. "0 to he in England now that April's there." — Robert Browning. Oto be at home ! wherever that may be ! In the fairest clime of all, be it either side the sea ; When first the spring awakens, when first the home thrush sings. With all the richness deep of the melody it brings ; For there the birds sing sweeter and fairer flow- ers bloom, There nature smiles serener than any place we roam; You'll never find such beauty all the wide world over As glistens through the dew-drops on the blos- somed clover In one's ov/n native land, around the old home door. Where the golden sunbeams a special light shed o'er; The wanderer longs for home wherever it may be, The mansion or the cottage, on either side the sea. 1897. Page Three Hundred Thirty-two TO MRS. NELLIE BANKS. On her Thirtieth birthday Anniversary. Written for Mrs. G. A. Truman. ■ STAY for a moment, oh flying years ! And tell me is it true That this is the thirtieth since our Nell Was introduced to you ? She's a mother now, tho' it seems but a day Since she, a child like her own, With prattling tongue and sparkling eyes, With glee filled all our home. How quickly grown a maiden tall, With ambition's glowing pride ; Then all too soon from our home went out A youthful, happy bride. Tenderly cherished by loving friends, With husband, daughter and son May each return of the festive day Be ever the brightest one. Page Three Hundred Thirty-three speed, messenger, over hill and vale! This token of love convey To yonder sunny, southern clime. To greet her natal day. While closely on the wings of thought We'll follow in your flight; For time and distance are as naught When loving hearts unite. 1897. Page Three Hundred Thirty-four ALL HAIL TO GLAD EASTER. ALL hail to glad Easter ! Its joy and its light Bring hope to the weary And scatters our night. For lo, He is risen! Hath conquered the grave; Yes, Jesus is risen, The mighty to save. 1898. EXCHANGED. IN MEMORY OF— EXCHANGED ; — the weariness of waiting. Earth's sorrow and its care, For the meeting and the greeting Of loved ones over there. Exchanged ; — the loneliness and longing, And joys of earth's brief day, For the treasures and the pleasures That never pass away. 1898. rage Three Hundred Thirty-five HANNAH IN THE PEW. AS calm as the morning and sweetly serene, I always shall see her as now, The faint streaks of sunlight are stealing within. And playing in wreathes on the brow Of Hannah sitting there in the pew. At the glad ring of bells the people come in. And the minister ponders them o'er ; Some looking so weary and some fresh and fair, As they're entering score after score. While Hannah sits there in the pew. And if the sermon God's wrath should foretell, Or the message be mercy and love. The same deep confidence beams in her eye, While her soul drinks peace from above ; Dear Hannah sitting there in the pew. The Sabbaths will come and the Sabbaths will go, Then the faces that come will be strange, In place of familiar ones that we know. And sadly I muse on the change. While Hannah sits there in the pew, 1898. Page Three Hundred Thirty-six AMELIA. I know a maid from Erin's land, Where green the Shamrock grows ; And pray each day the good fates may Protect her from all foes ; Our own Amelia; For a happy hit and Irish wit Just turn to our Amelia. No son of Esculapius Can give so good prescription, To cure the woes and scatter foes Of all sorts of description, As our Amelia ; For a happy hit and Irish wit Just turn to our Amelia. And so this maid from Erin's land Shall be a joy forever; To banish fear and bring good cheer, No one is like her ever; Our own Amelia; For a happy hit and Irish wit Just turn to our Amelia. 1898. Page Three Hundred Thirty-seven FRIENDS. Inscribed to John W. Scrihner. LONG years ago I journeyed far To a city by the sea ; And many were the faces strange That met and greeted me; In days to come we gave them naught But just a kindly passing thought. How many that we call our friends Are only such in name; We meet them oft in common ways, But life remains the same; No inspiration do they give To help to make it grand to live. But two I met as strangers then, In friendship's mystic ties Have grown and strengthened with the years; Are all that word implies ; Such friendship ever lives and thrills, As firm and lasting as the hills. Page Three Hundred Thirty-eight In sunny home of peace and wealth, And where true love abides, I found my friends ; and each to each We're more than all besides ; Earth has no joys where e'er you roam, So sweet as dwells within such home. The years pass swiftly like a dream, And change comes everywhere ; One friend is gone ; and safe beyond Awaits the other there. This thought shall bring thro' tears a smile : Not dead but lost from sight awhile. May you, my friend, whose hand and brain Have never idle been. To countless ones extending help, And causing right to win. For many years still live and bless This dear old world with usefulness. 1898. Page Three Hundred Thirty-nine THORN-APPLES. THE leaves are tinged with red and gold, The hills with beauty glow ; The hazel-nuts are turning brown, — We girls know where they grow. The sweet thorn-apples bending low, Are blushing in the sun, Awaiting swiftly coming feet When the school-day is done. Delicious is the flavor rare. This fruit we pluck and eat; All nature smiles and careless throws Her jewels at our feet. The gay sun-bonnets, pink and blue Are tossed upon the grass ; And sun-burned faces speak the joy Of every merry lass. I wonder if thorn-apples will Forever taste as sweet. As now when out the school-house door We run with nimble feet. Page Three Hundred Forty To gather, eat, and throw away From an exhaustless store ; While woods are ringing with the shout Of young hearts running o'er. And when we dimbed those dear old hills, Our faces all aglow, O tell me now can it be true 'Twas forty years ago ? 1898. B 1 WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS." ECAUSE of the song the angels sing, Because of the wonderful message they bring, I wish you a Merry Christmas. Because of the brilliant Bethlehem Star That led wise men from the East afar, I wish you a Merry Christmas. Because of their adoration paid To the infant King in the manger laid, I wish you a Merry Christmas. Page Three Hundred Forty-one Because all Heaven on earth looked down That Christmas night in the ancient town, I wish you a Merry Christmas. Because of the gift from the Father above Of Christ the Lord and redeeming love, I wish you a Merry Christmas. Because for you and for me He came, Salvation to bring in His own dear name, I wish you a Merry Christmas. 1898. FAREWELL OLD YEAR. FAREWELL old year ! your ''Good-night" is said; We clasp your lids like a book that is read ; For future reference lay it away. The Encyclopedia finished to-day. Dec. 31, 1898. Page Three Hundred Forty-two CHRIST AT JACOB'S WELL. FROM Jerusalem to Galilee The Savior journeys forth ; And through Samaria needs must go To Cana farther north. Weary and worn, He sits to rest By Jacob's well of old ; While He to one a sinner called Doth saving truth unfold. Who drinks of this shall thirst again ; But water I will give Shall be a living fountain pure, By which the soul shall live. Didst thou but know the gift of God, And Him who speaks to thee. Thou wouldst have asked and He would give This living water free. O Son of God, with gift divine Our thirsty souls supply! While unto this exhaustless fount Earth's weary ones draw nigh. 1899. Page Three Hundred Forty-three POEMS FOR THE G. A. R. 1883-1891. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. Jefferd's Post No. 82 G. A. R., Feb. 2 1883. YOU gather, comrades, this festive night, 'Neath freedom's warmth and glow. To tell the tales and sing the songs Of twenty years ago. So pile the camp-fire high, my boys. And warm you by its blaze ; For here's to health and happiness, And glory of by-gone days. For lo, the right prevailed ; and peace For years her wings has spread Over a nation of living power. And graves of noble dead. For freedom, truth and equal rights. In faith and valor true, And for our nation undivided, Fought the brave boys in blue. Page Three Hundred Forty-four In memory you may pitch again Your tents ; and in the camp, Talk of dear ones and loved homes, Forgetting the cold and damp. The troops in long procession rise By fair Potomac's shore; Immortal made by heroes brave, And sacred by their gore. The Valley of the Shenandoah Has wondrous things to tell, Of victories many and defeats. Of losses known too well. The long array of battles come. And pass in grand review ; Ah, would that they were only dreams ! Alas, you know them true. From Fort Sumter to Gettysburg, And Sherman's march to the sea, The echo of the cannon's roar. Through ages yet to be, Shall tell of struggles hard and long. Of courage to the last ; Until the glorious stripes and stars, Flung out from every mast. Page Three Hundred Forty-five Proclaimed to all both far and near, That right had gained the day; And that our country's darkest night Had forever passed away. * * * * When for soldiers the call was given, You answered, "here am I ;" Many came back, many were left In a far strange land to die. Your eyes grow dim while you think of those, From your side forever fled ; Who left the ranks of the living brave For the army of the dead. They reached the end of their homeward march, — Safe home on the evergreen shore. They're singing the songs of freedom there. And victory evermore. And when the last roll-call is read By the infinite voice of love, May you answer "here," without the loss Of one, in the army above. Page Three Hundred Forty-six OUR FALLEN HEROES. Written for Decoration Day, May 30, 1883. \X/ -^^^^ ^^'^^ ^^ ^^^" the smoke of battle, VV Where ne'er is heard the cannon's roar, Wrapped in peace and snowy mantles. Rest the weary evermore. From the long and dreary marches, From the raging battle's din. Safe within the heavenly mansions. The true and tried are gathered in. 'Neath the lilies of the valley. And the violet's purple hue. Where roses and forget-me-nots Mingle perfume with the dew, Rest the forms of valiant soldiers. That a nation's proud to own, And whose fame will still be cherished When crumble monuments of stone. Silently, with tents all folded ; Departed, ne'er to come again ; And the camp-fires last faint ember Has died out upon the plain. Page Three Hundred Forty-seven In the twilight soft and tender, Up through memory's dim ravine, Comes the tramping of the soldiers, And the starry banners gleam. And strong forts rise up before us, Fields of victory and defeat; Loss and gain are in the struggle. Triumph here and failure meet. See the lonely sentinel pacing Faithfully his weary round, While o'er the way dark prison walls. That cast their shadows on the ground. Tell the tales of want and suffering, Tales that only soldiers know. Who left all for love of country. And bravely went to meet the foe. Hear the tramping, distant tramping. Echoing footsteps from afar ; Thundering guns and steady drum-beats Filling thick the misty air. But we wake us from our dreaming. For the cruel war is past ; While the conqueror and the conquered Share one blessed peace at last. Page Three Hundred Forty-eight And the bugle's call to duty Ne'er shall break their deep repose ; Nevermore on guard or picket, In that land where are no foes. They are resting from their labors, But their works remain to tell. That to preserve our country's honor, And the dear old flag, they fell. And to-day we bring our offerings. Floral gifts to sacred dust; While their deeds that never perish We forever hold in trust. Many more, (ah, just as brave ones) Who never sword or saber bore, But who faced life's trying battles With a courage we adore, These to-day we would remember. And our floral tribute bring ; For of all earth's noble heroes Never cease the bards to sing. Soldiers all who met but bravely Life's great work, with purpose true ; And who did with zeal untiring What so e'er they found to do. Page Three Hundred Forty-nine Many 'neath the daisies resting, Martyrs to the world unknown; Now their blest reward receiving Closest to the great white throne. So we leave their bodies sleeping 'Neath the flowers and the sod ; While their spirits dwell forever With the angels and with God. L THE BOYS IN BLUE. Written for Decoration Day, May 20, 1884. OOKING backward to-day, through smiles and tears, Looking back through the vista of twenty years, To the Boys in Blue, who side by side Boldly fought for freedom, and bled and died, That our Country's honor unstained should be. And forever unfurled the flag of the free. Looking back to the war-cloud that darkened our way, To the strong hope that waited an Easter day, Now in its fruition, in triumph we sing. But in notes soft and tender, as backward wing Our thoughts to the fallen, the brave and true, Sacred to the memory of the Boys in Blue. Page Three Hundred Fifty Looking back to the old camp-ground to-day, On familiar faces long since passed away ; The cause they defended we'll ever maintain, 'Tis sealed with the blood of ten thousand slain ; With garlands of flowers we strew their graves, That dot our land like a broad sea of waves. Their swords are all sheathed, the bugle is still ; The marches are ended ; they're resting at will. At home, in the land where no furlough shall end. Where forever united are kindred and friend ; Their works still remain of the loyal and true, Enshrined in our hearts, the brave Boys in Blue. Looking back, then forward and upward and on, To the grand camping-ground when earth-work is done; Where the sunset's gold tinges river and shore, And the sad cry of war shall be heard nevermore ; Where no foes shall molest thro' eternity's day, And forever at peace, the Blue and the Gray. Page Three Hundred Fifty-one THROUGH OLD VIRGINIA. Read at G. A. R. Camp-fire, Feb. 15, 1888. 'T^ WAS in the early autumn days, ■^ When fields were ripe with corn, And summer's golden fruitage waits The reapers ; and the morn Was bright with dewy freshness rare, From early rains and late, As we crossed Ohio's sparkling stream To the old Virginia State. The mountains lift their tow'ring heads O'er many a cabin home. Whose dwellers all have liberty At will to go and come. Many a Sambo great and small The passing travelers see. Revealing their smiling visages Of the shiniest ebony. Page Three Hundred Fifty-two From many an old plantation rings The banjo and the song; And grateful hymns of praises rise For freedom lived so long. For near a quarter century Has Peace her pinions spread O'er valley and o'er mountain range, And equal blessings shed. O Freedom ! blessed theme to all ; Thrice blessed unto those Who once knew not the precious boon Nor wealth it doth disclose. From mountain, vale and hamlet floats The joyous jubilee, Proclaiming now and evermore Columbia's children free. Now on to Richmond we pursue Our journey, there to find Much of interest old and new, That failed not to remind Of by-gone days, of hard-fought fields, 'Neath storms and burning sun. Ere the cause of liberty and right The final victory won. Page Three Hundred Fifty-three We gaze with wondering eyes where once The old slave market stood, And ponder on the traffic dark, Of human flesh and blood. And Libby Prison's darkn'ing walls Still cast a sick'ning gloom, And musty floors and ceilings breathe Of a once living tomb. The grass is waving green where once The sword and sabre shone ; The years have scarcely left a trace Of conflicts lost or won ; For nature kindly covers o'er The past of good and ill ; But human hearts keep yesterdays. In memory treasured still. Through Shenandoah Valley fair, And by the winding streams, Of other days and other times The listless traveler dreams ; How once our noble Boys in Blue Here weary marches tread ; Some homeward came, and some, alas, Were numbered with the dead. Page Three Hundred Fifty-four But let affliction's hand be laid The North or South upon, And messages of brother love And quick relief are borne. No more let war's destroying hand Our glorious states divide ; The Union all inseparable, Our strength, our wealth, our pride. The blue Potomac waters roll And glisten in the sun. As to America's sacred shrine Our boat is gliding on. Our own beloved Washington; His dear Mount Vernon home ; Rejoice! O favored land, rejoice To claim them as your own. A TRIBUTE TO GENERAL SHERMAN. Written for a Memorial Service, March 21, 1891 AT the bugle call from the land unseen. Our heroes one by one. Are gathering home to fill the ranks Of the army beyond the sun ; Where they rest in the peace of victory gained. On evergreen fields by battles unstained. Page Three Hundred Fifty-five A tribute we bring of honor due To a leader beloved and gone, Whose deeds will live as a monument Forever in history and song; And whose hope in our Country's darkest night Flashed forth as a meteor strong and bright. At the great battle of Pittsburg Landing, — Through that fearful Sabbath day, A support to Grant who led the host That conquered in the fray; Thus his courage at Shiloh leading forth, Brought victory to the army of the north. To the President he this message sent One December long ago : "The city of Savannah as a Christmas gift I beg to present to you. With numerous bales of cotton in store. And ammunition and guns of war." On the battle-field, and in the march From Atlanta to the sea. He revealed in every time and place Most enduring loyalty To the government he loved so well. Its laws maintained what e'er befell. Page Three Hundred Fifty-six On history's page in living light Doth the name of Sherman stand ; He among the bravest of the brave Whose valor saved the land, And unfurled the banner of the free, That proudly waves from sea to sea. Page Three Hundred Fifty-seven IN THE ADIRONDACKS AND OTHER POEMS, IN THE ADIRONDACKS. HERE the mountains lift in grandeur Peak on peak their lofty forms ; Seemingly defying ever Summer's heat and winter's storms. Here fond nature has expended Wealth of ages to complete All the beauty round about us, Wondrously our eyes to greet. From tall oaks in breezes bending, In the deep, vast solitude. To the sweet wood-violets blooming In the middle of the road. And the grasses gently waving. Nod and woo the violets sweet ; Till we wonder which is grander God's works above or 'neath our feet. Page Three Hundred Fifty-eight To a sacred shrine we journey, Where North Elba's mountains rise, And the roses bloom in beauty O'er the grave where John Brown lies. On this summer day we ponder O'er a sad one long gone by. When his form found place of resting 'Neath a cloudy, wintry sky. Now Lake Placid in the distance Murmurs in the bright June sun, As if telling of the victory This forerunner hastened on. While the streamlets singing onward Through the valleys as they wind, Are giving inspiration ever For the treasures thought may find. Hunters love these mountain forests. As did Murray in the days When but few were seeking pleasure In the solitude's deep ways. Many an Izaak Walton wanders Leisurely with hook and line. And the speckled trout are gathered, On which travelers love to dine. PaffG Three Hundred Fifty-nine And the peaceful air of nature Lends a calm to weary brains, While it clearer vision giveth Of the heights that truth attains. Grand Mt. Marcy towers above us ; Whiteface looks in calmness down On the rugged scenes of beauty, Sparkling waves and sunlit town. Lakes and rivers, vales and hill-tops, Trickling rills and mountain springs. Make a grand and mighty chorus In the song that nature sings. 1899. Page Three Hundred Sixty SUNRISE ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. NOW the sun peeps o'er the mountains, And a golden path again Makes across the sparkHng waters Of the dear old Lake Champlain ; Tinging all the clouds with beauty, And encircling far and wide Casts its tints upon the surface Where we see in calmness glide A little boat with paddles glistening As they dip the waters fair, And sweet memories round me cluster, Wafted on the morning air. Port Henry, N. Y, 4 a. m. July 14, 1899. MOONLIGHT ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. O clear and bright, The fair moonlight Is dancing o'er the water; Lights up the boat Where fishers float, The finny tribes to slaughter. Page Three Hundred Sixty-one Now sweet and clear, Is wafted near The merry strains of rowers, Who send along Good cheer in song To those upon the shores. The moon so bright, In borrowed light, Unto the waves is lending ; Naught shines alone. But all must own The greater love extending. Thus from the source Of light in force. Is passed along the treasure; We drink and live, We take and give. But can't exhaust the measure. Port Henry, N. Y., July 24, 1899. Page Three Hundred Sixty-two THE ST. REGIS. WHERE the bobolink is singing In the quiet afternoon ; By the bonny blue St. Regis, Singing there his sweetest tune, Let me in my dreams still linger Underneath the spreading trees ; While the waters softly murmur To the whisperings of the breeze. Let me wander through the woodland Where the flowers thickly bloom ; Tread again the winding pathway. Until unawares I come, To a spring that's bubbling ever. Clear and sparkling at my feet ; And I drink to memories sacred In this blessed, calm retreat. Flow on, oh waters of St. Regis ! Sing, oh bobolink, your song ; Through the morning, noon and twilight, Still your happy strains prolong. 1899. Page Three Hundred Sixty-three H THE OLD CORNER CUPBOARD. Tune: "The Old Oaken Bucket/' OW fondly I think of the old corner cup- board, The dearest triangle my childhood e'er knew ; The dainties within it my young eyes discovered When hunger impelled me to bring them to view. How oft in my dreams I'm beholding the treas- ure, The old kitchen corner where long it has stood ; Behind its plain doors a bountiful measure The young heart pronounced most deliciously good. The old corner cupboard; the dear corner cup- board ; The cupboard that held everything that was good. Page Three Hundred Sixty-four The high polished cupboards the grand rooms adorning, Have no such a charm even now to my eye; The old corner cupboard, for that I am longing, In which I oft found a sweet turnover pie. The ginger-bread waiting the hungry ones com- ing, The ginger-bread bars that all temptingly stood In rows on the broad shelf, and oh what a hum- ming, When childhood pronounced it deliciously good. The old corner cupboard; the dear corner cup- board ; The cupboard that held everything that was good. 1899. Page Three Hundred Sixty-five THE SUBWAY. FOR a comfortable ride on a summer day, I pray you just enter the great Subway. The greatest invention this century's found Of traveling the city by way under ground. There are stations to stop at, to get off and on. There are tracks running hither, and thither and yon, All beneath the great whir of a city far famed, Great city of Boston, by all proudly named. For modern improvements by all 'tis agreed The Hub of the Universe takes the lead. 1899. Page Three Hundred Sixty-six THE MESSAGE OF THE LEAVES. A shower of leaves came floating One warm October day, Into the house of worship A message to convey To the listening congregation, While the pastor preached the Word, — And the lesson of the leaves How many of them heard? The air was like the summer ; The sunshine and the breeze Came through the open window With a message from the trees. Written in red and amber. That life is like the leaf. So full of changing colors. And of duration brief. And that the roseate sunset Is richer than the noon ; To the day that's full of labor The eve comes not too soon ; And so on this Sunday morning As the leaves came floating down, They seemed to me like jewels To be woven in a crown. 1899. Page Three Hundred Sixty-seven w THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. E hear the stately stepping of the century drawing near; Then pause, ye busy nations, and render hearty cheer. And a welcome that shall vibrate through a hun- dred years to come. When the present generations shall all be gath- ered home. Favored are we in living when two great centur- ies meet ; To hail the one's glad coming, and witness the retreat Of years of vast achievements surpassing any age; To be henceforth exalted on history's crowded page. What legacies bequeathing, dear old unto the new. In giving nobler manhood, and womanhood more true; And living power grown stronger to crush whate're remains Of evil, till each nation to purity attains. Page Three Hundred Sixty-eight And now upon the threshold expectantly we stand And await the swinging portals of a massive structure grand ; Shine forth O Twentieth Century! rich with prophetic light ; And make all earthly kingdoms the glory of God's might. Dec. 22, 1900. GATHER THE ROSES WHILE THEY BLOOM. Translated from the German. GATHER the roses while they bloom, And as you gather sing ; Remember to-morrow is not to-day And time is on the wing. Opportunities come but once. And joy of good deeds bring; Improve the moments as they fly, For time is on the wing. Live happily, I counsel you. Nor let life's record bring Regrets for helpful deeds undone, For time is on the wing. 190L Page Three Hundred Sixty-nine THE MOUNTAINS OF THE NORTHWEST. O grand and lofty mountain heights ! O river sparkHng blue ! Had I the wisdom of the gods I'd pay a tribute true, To untold grandeur you possess That thrills the human soul ; And speaks the All-creative power That underlies the whole. The red men now though numbering few Still roam the valleys free; And find a shelter in the hills That bound the western sea. The snow-capped heights on emerald vales In majesty look down ; Unconsciously in silent pride, To wear so pure a crown. Like gold and silver shine the stones Within the gurgling stream ; While mountain torrents dashing down, Complete the sweet day-dream. Page Three Hundred Seventy And so these simple words we give Of praise but half expressed; While swiftly on through changing scenes We span the far Northwest. Written on the train on the Canadian Pacific Railroad, August 26, 1901. SAN FRANCISCO BAY. THE Ocean breeze through the Golden Gate, Fans the glistening waves of the Bay, As we cross and re-cross from shore to shore In the calm of a summer day. Like a moving city the sails appear When silently gliding by, Now near and far, between and beyond. Where the great ships anchored lie. For a world of commerce comes and goes. And it rests securely there, 'Ere the voyage begins and when it ends. In the land-locked harbor fair. Page Three Hundred Seventy-one O beautiful Bay ! we linger still, When the moon and the stars aglow, Shine out in the boundless sea above On the trackless sea below. And San Francisco, guarding thy shore, Sends a thousand sparkling gleams From her stately domes and lofty towers, Like a fairy city of dreams. While responding lights across the Bay An encircling glory form Of steadfast rays thro' the silent night, And of beacon lights in the storm. 1901. IN MEMORY OF DR. W. H. YOUNG. WEARY? Yes, so the Master thought; And in his calling overwrought; Thus seeing. He Brought unto him a sweet release. And sealed it with His perfect peace. For aye to be. Page Three Hundred Seventy-two Faithful ? Yes, even unto death ; And labored with his latest breath For friend and foe; To heal the body and the mind, And sympathy for all mankind. To freely show. Resting? Ah, yes, the weary feet Have passed into the silent street, And wayside inn; The weary hands that never knew Before, a rest so calm and true. Have folded been. Working? Oh, yes, he's working still; But in the land where none are ill, Or ever tired; — Vast realms of beauty to explore, And knowledge gain forevermore. Heaven inspired. 1901. Page Three Hundred Seventy-three "I WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR.' B ECAUSE of faith in the promise true; As the old year's been, will be the new, I wish you a Happy New Year. Because of sun and refreshing showers. Seed-time and harvest for aye to be ours, I wish you a Happy New Year. Because of time that has lengthened life Another year in the world's great strife, I wish you a Happy New Year. Because of work that is ours to do. To fight the wrong and uphold the true, I wish you a Happy New Year. Because of gifts that come from above. Of faith and hope and abiding love, I wish you a Happy New Year. Because the future beckons away To broader fields and a grander day, I wish you a Happy New Year. 1901. Page Three Hundred Seventy-four WHEN GOD SENDS THE ROBINS BACK. THERE is new life in the air When the winter bleak and bare Vanishes with all its care, And God sends the robins back. There is new joy round the home When these gentle songsters come In our northern groves to roam, When God sends the robins back. Every green tree vocal is With the spring-time melodies Floating out on every breeze When God sends the robins back. Catch the message that they bring ; Let your soul mount up and sing With the glories of the spring. When God sends the robins back. 1903. Page Three Hundred Seventy-five OUR PASTOR. Written for Mrs. G. A. Richards, and recited at a banquet. I'M thinking of a pleasant dream, That I'll relate to you : For as the seasons come and go 'Tis all becoming true. Its of a church in search of one Who should its pastor be ; To break to them the bread of life, And preach a gospel free. To visit homes of sorrow where No ray of light is seen ; And midst them and the darkness throw God's blessed light between. The messages of hope and love Like holy ointment pour; And close at last the weary eyes, When earthly life is o'er. And those who wander from the right, In loving counsel bring. To rest their weary hearts, and drink At love's eternal spring. Page Three Hundred Seventy-six To laugh with those who laugh, and be One with the great or least ; And be a welcome, joyous guest, At many a wedding feast. As such an one to me and mine He came one spring-time fair. And joined our hearts that beat as one, Life's good or ill to share. And swift or slow, in joy or pain, The silent years glide by ; And sweetly still the memory clings, And brightens all our sky. Our church an offering brings to-night Of love and thankfulness, To him who well deserves our trust For all his help to bless In lifting burdens or in song, To bear an equal part With those whose leader he has been In life's full, busy mart. From day to day the work goes on ; Rich blessings from it flow; The dream's fulfilled in him we chose Past fifteen years ago. 1904. Page Three Hundred Seventy-seven MT. SHASTA. AGAINST the back-ground of the western sky, On this fair summer morn, while mellow light Lies peacefully upon its snow-clad brow. Beams grand Mount Shasta, close beneath the clouds, Like some great thought of God, to earth sent down, To lift the longing soul of man heavenward; And linking nature with the vast unseen. Majestic sentinel ! sun-bathed and white ! Singing the silent song too deep for words. We journey on, and slowly now recedes The great mount from our view, and distance sheds A halo soft upon the parting scene. Once stamped indelibly upon the mind Thus favored with the all-transporting view, It dwells henceforth in higher altitudes. 1904. Page Three Hundred Seventy-eight A PRAYER. O pitying Christ ! O Son of God ; Who once the earthly pathway trod; Thro' blazing sun of noon-tide heat Didst walk the Galilean street ; Didst know with human life so brief, The depths of sorrow and of grief ; Hear thou my prayer, thy grace impart ; In faith unfaltering keep my heart; Thro' stifling heat on life's highway Be thou, O Christ, my guide and stay. 1904. A FRAGMENT. WHEN feet grow weary and when faith ebbs low. When hearts once strong bend low beneath the weight Of untold burdens, seemingly too great To bear; they yet must trust where none can know. And thus shall hope the rifted clouds shine through. Like morning's smile upon the face of night ; Bidding the darkness flee before the light Of coming joy, when life is lived anew. 1903. Page Three Hundred Seventy-nine NOT MINE. IF works that my frail hands have done, Or words my lips have spoken ; Have cheered an earth-worn traveler, Or healed a heart that's broken ; The works and words were not my own. But only His through me made known. 1905. THE MESSAGE. THE message is written ; the pen laid down ; The weary heart is at rest ; But onward forever the message speeds, O'er valley and mountain crest ; Will we know, sometime in the far-off age. The blessing that went with the written page ? 1905. Page Three Hundred Eighty WISDOM IS STRENGTH. To the Class of 1905 of the Nashville high school. VASTLY higher flies the arrow, Though reaching not the stars, — When 'tis aimed by skilful fingers. And eyes that mount the bars. There's a distant goal brought nearer Each day at set of sun, If wisely mounting barriers, You daily journey on. A battle field of Marathon You'll reach upon the way ; May the wisdom of Miltiades Be yours to win the day. May rich rewards, through loving deeds, That shall all time survive. Come in abundant blessings to The Class of Nineteen-five. Page Three Hundred Eighty-one MARQUITA. MIDST singing of birds in the early morn, In the time of blossoms and waving corn, A little maiden, weary, forlorn. First oped her wondering eyes ; And all the choir in the leafy trees A message sent on the summer breeze, A joyful, sweet surprise, Marquita, little Marquita. The fairies danced the flower lanes through. Their bare feet wet with the morning dew, A greeting to give to a world all new. With mysteries all the way. Then the sun came over the hills of the east Just as the stars their twinkling ceased. And said : Behold the day ! Marquita, little Marquita ! July 1905. Page Three Hundred Eighty-two ONE AFTERNOON. 'HP IS a quiet afternoon; •■• And the winter sunshine falls Softly on the pictured walls ; On faces gone ; And I'm alone This afternoon. But the dear old clock rings clear, As it has for many a year, Counting the hours, And vanished powers ; And I'm alone This afternoon. Ah, soul, alone ? may it not be You have some guests you do not see Who spend this quiet hour with thee This afternoon? I'm not alone; And the winter sunshine falls Softly on the pictured walls ; I'm not alone. December 1905. Page Three Hundred Eighty-three LINES. WE live our life and pass along ; A life of shadow and of song; For joy is often mixed with tears Along the silent march of years ; But if we choose the rugged right, At evening time it shall be light. 1906. TO CASSIUS L. GLASGOW. Senator from 15th Senatorial District, Michigan. (Written for Mrs. McDerby in reply to his lines on returning a Shoe sent out for a Church Col- lection.) <</^NCE upon a time" as all good story- ^^ tellers say; A religious little darkey knelt by a pile of wood to pray. And in his zeal he prayed the Lord, if he were not sincere, That great wood-pile might fall right now, yes, now, upon him here. Page Three Hundred Eighty-four Some listening little urchins who were not so very good, His prayer began to answer quick by tumbling of the wood ; Then in frightened agitation, he cried ; **0 Lord I pray, Jes take dis little nigger as he mean, not as he say." Now owing to our modesty, lest we with beggars clash. We simply and politely, just hinted at the cash. At your request, this shoe anew its journey will begin ; And please accept our hearty thanks for cash you place within. 1905. I NOT "TOO LATE," BUT "TOO SOON." F reward for labor tarries Days and years till past life's noon ; Say not 'tis "Too Late," despairing. Smile and say, it is "Too Soon." 1906. Page Three Hundred Eighty-five BE HOPEFUL. BE hopeful, tho' the sky seems brass ; Be cheerful, for the storm will pass; Be calm, tho' waves are dashing high. Have faith in God to live or die. 1906. FIFTY YEARS. To Mr. and Mrs. George W. Nash. September 11, 1906. FIVE decades of changing time Have fled, since you together First started out to face life's facts. Thro' fair or stormy weather. Five happy years of life had past When Freedom blew her startling blast. The call for patriots came to hearts Where loyalty was planted ; And one must go ; one guard the home. Till peace our land was granted. One battled for our Country's right ; The other kept the home fire bright. Page Three Hundred Eighty-six No cloud so dark as we are told But has a silver lining ; And somewhere in this world of ours The sun is always shining ; And so thro' darkest clouds of war Behold the gleaming of hope's star. And reunited once again, You've journeyed on, receiving Sweet benedictions by the way That come to hearts believing ; And trusting that the future will Your fondest hopes at last fulfil. Your children come again to-day, With loving thoughts and tender. Of all their childhood's treasured days, That fondly they remember; And now as then, they still may share Father's and mother's faithful care. All peacefully the years glide by Adown the sunset river; And richest blessings daily flow From heaven's loving giver. May only brightest memories be With you this golden jubilee. 1906. Page Three Hundred Eighty-seven MY WINDOW IN THRUMS.* THERE'S a place where I sit in the winter days, While I watch and muse on the different ways Of the passers by, With a thoughtful eye. And I call it my window in Thrums. Such wonderful things from my window I see While reading the faces that look up at me ; And guessing the pain, The loss or the gain ; While I sit by my window in Thrums. They're coming from school with a happy stride, My dear little neighbors on either side ; With a laugh and shout, For school is out. While I sit by my window in Thrums. I see the procession of factory hands, Who are helping to make the wealth of all lands. With their brawn and brain, In an endless train ; As I sit by my window in Thrums. * Suggested by Barrie's "Window in Thrums." Page Three Hundred Eighty-eight Forgetting the present and into the past, Dwelling in shadowy realms so vast, I'm dreaming away, On a winter's day. While I sit by my window in Thrums. And visions of many a Leeby and Jess Thronging my memory gently press ; And Hendry will come, And Jamie will roam. As I sit by my window in Thrums. We're climbing life's pathway, and some glad day We shall reach the window at top of the brae, With transporting view Of the City that's new, And our ideal window past Thrums. 1907. Page Three Hundred Eighty-nine CORPUS CHRISTI. FOR situation how beautiful, O, Queen of the Lone Star State ! The sparkling waters of the Bay, Have crowned and made thee great : A rich inheritance is thine, That nature fair bestows ; And heaps her treasures in thy lap. That with her wealth o'er flows. Corpus Christi ! O sacred name That ancient Rome holds dear ; With festivals of thankfulness, That yearly reappear. We'll wreathe thy name with immortelles. Fair City by the sea; Where healthful breezes bring to all, A sense of liberty, And those 'a-weary rest awhile ; And eager youth makes bold. To grasp its opportunities To win, to have and hold. 1907. Page Three Hundred Ninety THE SWEETEST SONG. SING me a song at the twilight hour, When the day has been weary and sad ; A song bringing peace and restfulness, And the secret of being glad ; While up through the years of mists and tears, Faint melodies sweetly roll, O the strain prolong of the sweetest song "Jesus, Lover of my soul!" Sing me a song at the twilight hour. When the storm has raged all day; And the rifted clouds at sunset smile, To brighten the darkened way ; And up through the years of mists and tears, Faint melodies sweetly roll, O the strain prolong of the sweetest song "Jesus, Lover of my soul !" 1907. Page Three Hundred Ninety-one TO MR. AND MRS. H. A. BROOKS. On their forty-fifth wedding anniversary. July 12, 1907. WE'VE come to remind you, your friends of old, You're rapidly nearing the milestone of gold ; But pause 'ere you reach it, to bid you good cheer. While bright reminiscences bring our hearts near. And help us remain forever and aye Well at heart and young, tho' our hair is grey. The joy of life's morning to-day you review. And live o'er again the years that were new ; And see in the picture a bride of nineteen, Whose wedding and birthday mingled have been In glad anniversaries, the record appears. In traveling the pathway of forty-five years. All labor was sweet on the dear old farm. In the house or outdoors, in sunshine and storm ; And the forward look overcame all ill ; Love lightened the toil, as love with hope will ; Thus the years sped by, and changes have come. And in this fair village you made a new home. Page Three Hundred Ninety-two There is always work for the faithful to do, To make the world better while journeying through ; To remember all good, all ill to forget. Makes a high standard of life to be met. No life is all sunshine ; there's sadness and tears, As you have well learned in these forty-five years. There are peaceful shades along the highway, Where we rest from the toil and heat of the day ; And fond recollections, like songs in the night, That strengthen our souls for the battles we fight. And we build our thoughts that blossom in deeds, To cheer this lonely old world in its needs. As the years increase, your friends multiply, And make more luminous the sunset sky; Till you almost catch a gleam from the land Where loved ones await you with beckoning hand; And your only child in that sunny clime Glad greeting will give past the shores of time. Page Three Hundred Ninety-three THE TEACHING OF THE TREES. IN Jotham's parable of old, The trees went forth to seek a king To rule and reign the forest o'er, And take the homage they would bring. The olive tree refused to reign ; It could not well its fatness leave Wherewith were honored God and man, Its blessings manifold would give. The fig tree next they asked to rule, But it preferred its own work true; "Should I forsake my sweetness all To be promoted over you?" In vain they sought the humble vine. That in its own loved work was blest ; The richness of its juice to yield, And bring the weary hope and rest. Then to the bramble said the trees, "Come thou, reign over us." If ye In truth anoint me King, then let Your trust within my shadow be. Page Three Hundred Ninety-four And if sincerely thou hast done, Rejoice ; if not, a fire shall run From out the bramble and destroy The cedars great of Lebanon. The lesson of content, oh soul, Learn thou from nature's harmonies; And working in thy own best way Accept the message of the trees. Like cedars broad or giant oaks, Our own life work may not extend ; Rut in a smaller range may give As peaceful shade to foe or friend. The rustling of the mulberry trees The listening ear may hear to-day, And as King David did of old, With boldness enter in the fray. Then rest us when the victory's won By waters cool, 'neath spreading trees ; And catch the message brought to us. And wafted on the passing breeze. 1907. Page Three Hundred Ninety-five CHRISTMAS IN CALIFORNIA. THE dry earth welcomes the showers of rain ; And the fields respond with the coming grain ; And breezes soft like the breath of May, Usher in the holy Christmas day ; Then the sunbeams play in letters of gold, To tell again the sweet story of old. The perfume of lilies floats on the air, And roses are blossoming everywhere ; While the orange groves are joining with them. In telling the story of Bethlehem ; Of good will to men, and peace upon earth ; Echoing down from the day of His birth. With nature around me in spring's array, I dream of the snow-land far away ; And I hear the jingle of merry sleigh-bells On the frosty air, and the music swells With the joyfulness of the Christmas time. And the shouts of happy young life in its prime. I'm dreaming, dreaming till the notes die away. And the dear little birds that have sung all day Have folded their wings for the night's repose ; And into His keeping who careth for those We yield ourselves, and our thanks never cease. That all over the world is the Christmas peace. 1907. Petaluma, California. Page Three Hundred Ninety-six THE SIERRAS. Oblue Sierras ! of which poets have sung, Since ever the cHme and mountains were young. No pen can o'er draw thy beauties serene When Autumn has painted bright tints with the green. Thy snow-capped summits in majesty stand, A glory forever of the sunset land. THE POINSETTA. THE Poinsetta flaming red, Its wealth of beauty far doth spread. In decorating banks of green With richest contrast ever seen. O flower rare ! you must have sprung From out some fairy land, among The dainty elves that made your leaves A shelter when some danger grieves Their mystic hearts, and they have found A refuge sure when foes surround. Did you desert their hidden home For broader fields o'er which to roam, And make our human ills grow less By musing on your loveliness? Jan. 30, 1908. Page Three Hundred Ninety-seven SAN DIEGO. WE journeyed through the orange groves, Where the wealth of nature glows In beauty wide On every side And came to San Diego. Fair city of the Silver Gate! We find in thee a joy to wait. Where summer stays, And winter days Come not to San Diego. On Coronado beach we stroll, And see the broad Pacific roll Close to our feet With music sweet. All dear to San Diego. A ship is sighted in distress From foreign shore; with speediness Help brings it through All safe into The Bay of San Diego. Page Three Hundred Ninety -eight A royal welcome waits to greet The coming of the Evans fleet ; Red, white, and blue, The standard true Of loyal San Diego. The fair magnolia here we see, While the bougainvillea free. Is climbing o'er The porch and door Of homes in San Diego. Its beauties as the years go by Cease not to grow and multiply ; While flowers rare, And salt sea air. Bring joy to San Diego. San Diego, Cal. February, 1908. Page Three Hundred Ninety-nine JACK. FOR unwavering faithfulness, And for devotion true, More than his equal you'll not find. If you search the whole world through, Than our dog Jack. His sympathy in trouble shows, To help he tries his best ; P'or loyalty of loving heart He oft has stood the test. Our dear dog Jack. For many months and far from home, I've longed to see his face; And greet the wagging of his tail, With his expressive grace. Our dear dog Jack. Feb. 15, 1908. San Diego, Cal. Jack died April 2, before the writer reached home. Page Four Hundred SUNSET ON POINT LOMA. O vision of beauty that bursts on our sight ! Encircling Point Loma with radiant light ; And the sunset hues on sky and on sea Maketh forever a sweet memory. March 9, 1908. SAN DIEGO PUBLIC LIBRARY. O place of peace and comfort! My hungry heart oft delves, And finds its greatest pleasure From your richly laden shelves. The stranger here finds welcome ; The student, precious lore; All go their way rejoicing, And blessings on thee pour. March 14, 1908. San Diego, Cal. Page Four Hundred One OLD MEXICO. A trip to Tia Juana. WITH a coach and four Of the old-fashioned kind ; A Mexican driver in front, And a jolly crowd behind, We journeyed along, A tourist band. Hi, Ho ! Into Old Mexico. Coaches one, two, three. As full as could be ; A Mexican driver ahead Of a laughing crowd and free; We journeyed along, A tourist band. Hi, Ho ! Into Old Mexico. Each coach of four Was full to the door. When we left the boundary line, And the United States behind. And forded the streams Like pleasant dreams, As we journeyed along, A tourist band, Hi, Ho ! Into Old Mexico. March 14, 1908. Page Four Hundred Two THE FOURTH OF JULY. WE hail with rejoicing the Fourth of July; With the stars and stripes proudly wav- ing on high. Our Nation's glad birthday again celebrate, With union of heart and union of state. The day that our forefathers gave we will keep ; Nor stain with dishonor the land where they sleep. The document signed by statesmen of old, Grows dear as the years its teachings unfold. And on each glorious Fourth of July From sea unto sea songs of freedom rise high ; To flags of all nations we give honor due. But loyally stand by the red, white and blue. 1908. Page Four Hundred Three THOUGHTS OF SAN DIEGO. OF the sunset land where the orange grows, And the sweet magnolias bloom ; Of a wilderness of roses rare Sending out a rich perfume ; I'm thinking to-night, and I long to be For a little while by the western sea. Of the chimes that ring on the evening air In melody far and wide ; Calling the weary to the house of prayer. To rest at the eventide ; I'm thinking to-night, and I long to be For a little while by the sunset sea. June 1908. THE LITTLE PINK SUNBONNET. LOOKING back through the vista of change- ful years, A little pink sunbonnet often appears ; With the wearer running and skipping along. To mingle with playmates in a happy throng; With school-book in hand — and a mother's warm kiss — How oft to my mind comes a picture like this. Page Four Hundred Four Quick to learn — and forget — sad be it to say, Brought her many regrets in a later day, As the years flew swift as the years will do. And the little maiden to womanhood grew. With life-work begun and with it the cares That struggling humanity constantly bears. With the task that at evening was found incom- plete, The fresh dew of morning brought strength to compete ; For the noontide of life, oh Master we pray. Give courage to toilers in midst of the fray ! And the child with the pink sunbonnet outgrown. Much of life's sweet and life's bitter has known. O'er a pathway winding through vale and o'er hill The angel of patience is beckoning still ; 'Tis sweet to be weary that rest we may gain, Like the sunshine that follows a long dreay rain ; 'Tis best to have striven though often we fail. For new strength is given to hearts that prevail. Page Four Hundred Five There's a spring-time in life as joyous and free As the bHthe bird that sings in yonder green tree ; The buds and the blossoms in nature's array Sets the world rejoicing in beautiful May; The glad angel of hope makes the heart beat high, And God paints a sunrise in his own bright sky. The dawn tarries not, and the sun bursts forth In the noontide splendor of glorious worth ; Thus the noonday of life is a blessing more rare In fullness of service than the morning fair ; If there be conflicts One speaks peace to thee, As once to the waves of the rough Galilee. As brilliant as morning is the sunset glow ; O child of the pink sunbonnet dost know The Father is leading to the streets of gold? And the heart that trusts Him doth never grow old? Of Life never ending triumphantly sing; Rejoice and be glad then oh child of the King. October 1908. Page Four Hundred Six TO MR. AND MRS. LEVI BIGELOW. On their Golden Wedding. November 7, 1908. THIS message of love over vales and hills We send upon its way; And may it a joyful greeting be Your Golden Wedding day. May your heart and life be always young, And tuned to many a happy song That's come within to stay. Old time has played us many a trick To make us think we're old ; We'll not believe it, no matter at all How often we are told. The days will come and the days will go. And be they speeding or be they slow. New interest they unfold. When the golden days of Autumn come To crown the harvest year, In a glowing robe of varied hues The mountains all appear ; And brightly as when Creation spoke. And they into joyous being woke, And never have grown sear. Page Four Hundred Seven All the fifty golden wedded years, By dear old Lake Champlain You've lived ; and its sparkling waters fair Have brought you earthly gain; And with it the sacred memories glad, More valued than other treasures had, And life-long will remain. The lake by the Indians rightly called "Gate of the Country" here Between the lofty Adirondacks And the Green Mountains near ; With a history far surpassing all American lakes either great or small, And to Americans dear. Still across its waves the light-house shines, And vast but crumbling walls Of the Crown Point forts ; and dwellers near Its history oft recalls ; And dream of the past by the firelight's glow. Of defeats and victories ; 'tis always so — And wake when the bugle calls. We bring, dear friends, congratulations For fifty years well spent ; While your children and grand-children come To crown this glad event. May sorrows grow less, and joys grow more. As you near the lights on the other shore. With the Pilot heaven sent. Page Four Hundred Eight o AUGUSTA STILLWELL. ASLEEP among the flowers ; O tired heart take thy rest ! With courage strong thou hast labored long, And now art fully blest ; O tired heart take thy rest. O life of sacrifice That's now forever free! Thy wealth of thought with love inwrought Has crowned thee royally. O tired heart take thy rest. December 1908. Page Four Hundred Nine AN INVITATION. To the Nashville Home-coming. August 9-14, 1909. COME back, old friends, come back To scenes of your early home ; From your many wanderings come, And just for a few brief days We'll ponder the old-time ways. Come back, dear friends, come back. Come back, old friends, come back. When the harvest time is here. And the fruitage brings good cheer; While the kettle sings its song On the hearth for which you long Come back, dear friends, come back. Come back, old friends, come back. You will meet a glad surprise In the growing industries, And along commercial lines. Through which faithful labor shines. Come back, dear friends, come back. Page Four Hundred Ten Come back, old friends, come back, Fair the parks and fountains glow In the town you used to know. And fine architecture stands, Workmanship of skilful hands. Come back, dear friends, come back. Come back, old friends, come back, For the sake of days gone by, Where were born ambitions high ; And the place with flowers spread, Where you laid your sacred dead. Come back, dear friends, come back. Come back, old friends, come back, Midst the beauty of the hills And the music of the rills. We will celebrate the days In the good old-fashioned ways, Come back, dear friends, come back. Come back, old friends, come back, Unexpectedly you'll meet And familiar faces greet As you roam the dear old town, Asking Heaven's blessings down. Come back, dear friends, come back. Page Four Hundred Eleven SARANAC FIFTY YEARS AGO. NOT a classical tale of old Greece or Rome, Am I bringing to you to-day ; But a simple song of the dear old home, And a glimpse of the far away; As we waken anew the memories glad And silently pass the memories sad Of fifty years ago. O the magical charm of an old-time voice, And the thrill of the clasping hand ! That stretches across the length of the years, And that reaches our childhood land; And we're roaming again by hill and stream Where oft we have roamed in many a dream Since fifty years ago. All folded away with my attic treasures Are valentines faded and old ; At the old school desk so slily written In poetic effusions bold : "O my pen is poor and my ink is pale," But — you know the rest of the loving tale Of fifty years ago. Page Four Hundred Twelve Through many a joyous winter's eve We danced on the broad kitchen floor, To the music of a single violin — O the rapturous strains of yore, Will ever again be music so sweet As that we kept time to with nimble feet, Near fifty years ago? When moonlight flooded the snow-clad earth, And the jolly sleigh-loads met. And the merry voices chimed with the bells — I can hear their wild laughter yet — Were muffled in robes in bottom of sleighs The dear boys and girls of other days. Of fifty years ago. Thus merrily off to the spelling school Or some party of glad surprise Where we played "the miller" and ''needle's eye'* Forgetful of time as it flies, Till sleigh-bells jingle, and homeward bound Is the happiest crowd that ever was found Since fifty years ago. Page Four Hundred Thirteen When the full, rich days of Autumn came, And the hazel-nuts were found ; The ripe thorn-apples were bending low All their branches to the ground ; O delicious fruit ! oh the golden days ! They have left a brightness through memory's ways. Since fifty years ago. The Indians loved all these wooded dells, And to them we owe the dear name "Saranac — river that flows under rock." 'Tis sparkling with beauty aflame. No more do they visit these green banks where we The smoke of their wigwams delighted to see Some fifty years ago. How many would answer to roll-call to-day. If gathered in school as of old ; How many familiar faces would we Of teachers and pupils behold ; To be sure our hair may be somewhat gray. But our hearts are as young in every way As fifty years ago. Page Four Hundred Fourteen To you who linger in the old home town, Our congratulations we bring; Its growth and prosperity you have earned ; Its beauties and praises we sing. Dear old Saranac ! Grand River, so dear ! Forever, forever my heart's with you here. As fifty years ago. August 1909. CONCEALED. ACHING hearts and smiling faces ! We meet them every day ; And the grace that keeps grief hidden. Along earth's saddened way. Cheerful words and silent sorrow ! God bless such souls alway ; With the peace past understanding. The peace that comes to stay. September 1909. Page Four Hundred Fifteen KATYDID. THE time of the Katydid has come ; Reminding us that the Autumn is near ; The summer foliage is growing sear ; And we think the strange, long thoughts that roam. A pensiveness is filling the air, And we wonder what poor Katy did. And what she didn't if she was bid, And if the accusation is fair? The morning passes and the noontide too ; All too soon the shortened daylight falls ; And the summer twilight fast recalls All that Katy did and she didn't do. The question appeals, we must answer each, When comes the close of the busy day; Have we done or missed the good in our way. And what does the faithful Katydid teach? August 1909. Page Four Hundred Sixteen A STRAY THOUGHT. O where is the thought that came knocking one day At the door of my heart, and then flew away ? I just caught a ghmpse and thought I would seize And clothe it in language my fancy to please. So much of confusion and unrest of mind, No place of abode could the helpful thought find ; And I have been searching for many a day For the treasure that flew so quickly away. I wonder if it to the mountains took flight ; Or lodged in the valley all hidden from sight ; Or found it a far better refuge of rest, Safely sheltered within some lone, troubled breast. Am sure that with it a rich blessing went ; A message from Heaven on love's errand sent ; And I am much poorer since losing that day The glad thought that from me sped swiftly away. December 1909. Page Four Hundred Seventeen WORTH WHILE. TO cheer a heart cast down, To brush away a frown, Point upward to a crown, Is worth while. To live and just be glad For all of life you've had, Though some of it be sad, Is worth while. To speak a helpful word By which a soul is stirred To do, by having heard. Is worth while. To wake the sleeping powers. To fill the golden hours With true work truly ours, Is worth while. To help the world to be In closer touch with thee, O man of Galilee ! Is worth while. December 1909. Page Four Hundred Eighteen ABRAHAM LINCOLN. O mighty man and statesman thou! A patriot born to lead ; Our country's great deliverer, And friend in time of need. Thy greatness with simplicity Has won a world to thee ; And taught the people honest worth Is more than chivalry. The golden bells of freedom rang With no uncertain sound ; Thy hand was at the nation's helm, Thy feet on sacred ground. And millions soon with shackles gone, Thanked thee for liberty; And dearer through the years shall grow The freedom wrought by thee. We greet again thy natal day With banners all unfurled ; The praises that we render thee Have echoed round the world. Page Four Hundred Nineteen O Lincoln, thou art all our own ! And yet we're proud to know That other nations love thee well, And honors doth bestow. While history-laden years go by Thy fame shall ne'er be less ; And coming ages shall revere Thy great heart's tenderness. February 12, 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty IN THE HAND OF THE POTTER. Jer, 18:3,4, NOT repaired, but made new, O Master divine ! Do with my heart as the potter with clay ; 'Tis marred with many a sinful design ; O make it anew in Thy likeness I pray. The seams and the scars no polish can hide; The wheels of Thy grace must fashion it right ; Till within it Thy image reflected abide And evermore make it a dwelling of light. 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-one LINES. Inscribed to the ''King's Daughters" of Nashville, Michigan. GOD bless the cheerful sunshine band ! The daughters of the King ! For all the joy to saddened hearts And darkened homes they bring. Whose tender ministries of love To suffering ones have given New inspiration "In His Name," And nearer view of heaven. God bless the willing sunshine band ! While busy days go by ; And feet, made beautiful and swift. On mercy's errands fly. 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-two THE WELL BY THE GATE. O that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate. II Samuel, 23:15. A drink from the well by the gate ! Repeat it again while I wait For the vision to come Of a long past home, And I wait For a drink from the well By the gate. For the Bethlehem well we long; And weave the story in song ; As did David of yore ; And for water implore While we wait For a drink from the well By the gate. By the caves of Adullam to-day, We journey on life's highway ; For the water we long With its splashing song. As we wait For a drink from the well By the gate. July 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-three THE LITTLE BROWN COTTAGE. UNDER the arms of the blue beach tree, Loftily waving wide and free Nestles a cozy cottage brown, Just in the edge of the little town. An ideal place to dream and rest, And read the books you love the best In a shady nook on a summer's day, And drive all worldly care away. While rippling o'er the placid lake Come strains of music oft to break The stillness deep, and echoes sweet The notes continue to repeat. The sunlight dancing through the trees Keeping step with the summer breeze Shedding o'er all a halo sweet. Hath made this harbor of rest complete. September 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-four THE LITTLE CHURCH AMONG THE HILLS. THERE'S a picture of peace that has come to stay With me as I journey the rest of life's way ; 'Twas painted one bright October day In the little church among the hills. The sun through colored panes shone through, Lighting the forms of worshippers few, And a glory shone through every pew In the little church among the hills. And He who dwelt in the far away days. And lighted the rough Judean ways, Gave inspiration to songs of praise In the little church among the hills. The drive through the glen that afternoon Was bright as any in flowery June : The Autumn leaves were all in tune To the little church among the hills. The squirrels sped swift on the way before. Gathering in for the winter's store ; While sunlight and shadows their beauty pour 'Round the little church among the hills. Van Vlack, Ont., Can. October 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-five MARGARET. THE lustre that's lighted shines in her face With radiant beauty and simple grace; The deeply sad eyes where the far and near met, — Beautiful, dreamy Margaret. The daily toil and the many cares Of the dear home life she patiently bears; Increasing demands all tenderly met, — Beautiful, faithful Margaret. Occasional lights her features stir, As if the angels whispered to her; And listening, all worldly things forget, — Beautiful, saintly Margaret. November 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-six BY THE GEORGIAN BAY. THE beach is long and wide and smooth ; And Hke a velvet carpet spread ; No sound there came from horses' hoofs That lightly o'er the surface sped. The morn is rich in Autumn sun, Deep calm and peace our spirit laves; No sound is heard upon the air Except the music of the waves. Or some lone bird that thrills his song, And tunes it to the grandeur near ; While woods in bright apparel stand, — God's great cathedral gleaming here. We cross the Nottawassaga bridge, Pass church and school-house on the way- Smiling amidst the broad farm lands That placid in the sunlight lay. As my young friend beside me sat. Explaining as we rode along. In his most interesting way. Our hearts with nature joined in song. 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-seven MAYFIELD. THE sky betokened storm ; and thus delayed Decision of the farmer and his friends But inclination and not weather ruled And so it was decided we should go — Though seven miles away — that afternoon To Mayfield Church. Historic, sacred place ! It never yet had been my lot to see ; And when the farmer's faithful team drew up We soon filled every seat — excepting one We saved, to gather in along the way A friend who waiting hailed us joyfully. — The rich Canadian farms our eyes surveyed; Abundant harvests had been garnered safe; And this the season's joyful festival. And glad thanksgivings rise from every heart. And now at last there comes upon our view The Scottish Church; of structure fine and strong ; For years had been a land-mark well beloved. And close beneath its sheltering walls we see The stones that mark the resting places dear Of loved ones lost to sight a little while ; And waiting just beyond the mystic veil Have left a trail of light the way to cheer. On entering this house of worship fair Page Four Hundred Twenty-eight The shining words upon the wall we read, That faced us as within the pew we sat : "The Lord is in His holy temple" and "Let all the earth keep silence before Him." I had a friend* who in the olden days Called this his home. In early manhood's prime He sang among the choir in Mayfield Church. And in those days he taught the public school,^ As teacher, held in loving memory still For good works wrought, impressed on youthful minds. — And then in broader fields of real life work, Through years of toil and tender ministries. Became a skilled physician ; and excelled In every way his great profession led. And in the midst of life's activities Was called to higher glories all unseen. And so that afternoon a vision came ; I saw him there who long had been among The choir invisible. My thoughts were all Of him who worshipped there in other years ; And so the service doubly sacred seemed. Surrounded by green fields and meadows broad. Midst all of nature's holy ministries. What place so hallowed by the dear Christ's love And peace divine, as is the country church. * Dr. W. H. Young. At Church here. Oct. 9, 1910. Page Four Hundred Twenty-nine BELLFOUNTAIN. OVER the Caledon mountains, Down in the beautiful vale, Nestles a village as cozy As those in a fairy tale. Where the mountain streams are singing All day their wonderful song; And never the heart grows weary, And there's never a day too long. Peaceful and lovely Bellfountain ! We're longing to tarry with thee ; Thy cottages fair and restful Are inviting to "bide a wee." Gladly we'd bide without fretting, Through many a bright summer day ; Drinking thy deep inspiration, To broaden, and brighten life's way. 1910. Page Four Hundred Thirty WILLIAM S. BARNETT. ♦'T'WAS said he was one whom the children ■*■ loved, And would gladly run to meet ; And sometimes to soothe a crying child He was seen to cross the street. And this — to a stalwart business man With duties and cares not a few, And to whom for counsel many came — Is a tribute loving and true. Through life he has proven many times A friend that's a friend in need ; His memory will live through coming years In many a worthy deed. When monuments crumble and grow old, And engravings deep are gone, From heart to heart through the ages still Kindly words and deeds live on. January IQIL Page Four Hundred Thirty-one A JOYFUL EASTER. BECAUSE the angel has rolled away The stone from the grave where the dear Lord lay, I wish you a joyful Easter. Because, on that far-away, early morn, A glorious hope for the world was born, I wish you a joyful Easter. Because on the cross the price was paid — Redemption full for the world was made, I wish you a joyful Easter. Because the Lord is risen indeed, And life immortal the message we read, I wish you a joyful Easter. Because His mission was made complete On that Easter morn 'midst lilies sweet, I wish you a joyful Easter. Because He hath died, and lives again, Forevermore in triumph to reign, I wish you a joyful Easter. 19n. Page Four Hundred Thirty-two BENJAMIN HATHAWAY. A master mind among the few Whose pages brim with sparkling thought, In heights and depths with Hfe inwrought, To him who reads for broader view. A singer who sang of human needs ; The inner life's demands, and why, And whence the human soul's supply. And love that filleth all the creeds. Student of nature, whose listening ear Caught the message of flower and tree ; The notes of wild bird, gladsome, free; The wordless music ringing clear. "The League of the Iroquois" shall stand, A monument that will endure ; Of workmanship in Literature; And proudly owned by any land. His knowledge of the wealth that lies In well-tilled soil and fruitful seed. Has been a blessing, met the need A skilful test alway supplies. Page Four Hundred Thirty-three Hast lived and gone ; art living still ! Through tireless work of hand and brain Thou didst true eminence attain; Then rested at the Father's will. O Michigan ! our well-loved State ! Fail never thou his praise to sing ; But to his memory tribute bring ; For such as he, hath made thee great. April 1911. A GIFT OF ROSES. To the W. C. T. U. — Nashville, Michigan. 1 thank you for the sympathy Your kindly deed discloses ; I thank you for your thought of me, And gift of roses. A door there is that stands ajar. To hearts where love reposes ; Thus double fragrance fills the air From gift of roses. June 1911. Page Four Hundred Thirty-four THE CALIFORNIA POPPY. O sun-born flower of the Golden State ! Artists and poets have vied to create Thy likeness of beauty with brush and with pen, To gladden forever the vision of men. But nature, on canvas of hillside and plain Has multiplied grandeur no art could attain, With buds and with blossoms like nuggets of gold. Dotting the landscape with beauty untold. December 1911. Page Four Hundred Thirty-five "ON THE POSY SIDE." To Gertrude Hortense Powers — Four Years Old. DEAR little child with the laughing eyes, Always beaming with a sweet surprise ; Heart full of gladness, sunshine and song. Clasping my hand as we walk along. "I'm on the posy side" she said : "All the time," and the sunny head Was turned toward me as the flowery way We passed on the morn of a summer day. Dear little friend ! may you always keep — While you journey life's pathway rough and steep — As much as may be "on the posy side," Trusting the hand of the unseen Guide. When the way seems dark and the pathway long Light it with hope and cheer it with song; Till we meet some day in Heaven's bright clime, And walk "on the posy side all the time." December 1911. Page Four Hundred Thirty-six SAN MIGUEL. GOOD morning to you San Miguel ! With brow adorned with shining frill Of early light and sparkling dew, To greet again the earth made new. Midst mountain range in sunlight drest Towers thy form above the rest ; So near and yet so far away, Thy measured distance who can say. King of the mountains by the sea! Where San Diego looks on thee ; And lofty peaks and valleys wide Share in thy glory and thy pride. December 1911. Page Four Hundred Thirty-seven THE WHITE-COVERED WAGON. I'M thinking to-day, as often before, Of a childish longing and dream To ride in a white-covered wagon afar, Through woodland, valley and stream. To sleep in a white-covered wagon at night ; To breakfast the roadside along; Delighted the early sunlight to greet. And the wild birds' jubilant song. And to rest, when the noon-tide overtakes, 'Neath the shade of a spreading tree ; And quench our thirst from a sparkling spring. While we lunch; a jolly crowd we. Then onward again till the twilight creeps And covers the land, and we share Our evening meal, while the birds gone to sleep Leave a stillness in earth and air. Thus many the days and weeks would I ride In the white-covered wagon quaint ; Till my childish longing was satisfied With pictures my fancy would paint. Page Four Hundred Thirty-eight * A procession of years has passed along ; And the child's dream unfulfilled ; It has vanished with dreams of later years And the castles we fain would build. 1912. TO MR. AND MRS. H. A. BROOKS. July 12, 1912. AS the sun lights up the hill-tops On his journey toward the west ; And the evening twilight lingers With a benediction blest, May life's afternoon and evening Gilded be with deepest peace ; And the wealth of love most tender Be yours now and never cease. Fly, message mine, o'er mountain peaks I O'er desert wide and far away. To my dear friends, and wish them joy On this, their Golden Wedding Day. Page Four Hundred Thirty-nine TWO PICTURES. THE wind is blowing wild without ! The snow is drifting high ; The feathery flakes are whirling fast And leaden is the sky. Adown the chimney roars the blast! The doors and windows quake ; A moaning through the crevices, Like nature's heart would break. Tempestuous is the outer world ! The north wind sweeps the trees, And throws their snowy mantle off Like playthings on the breeze. But brightly shine the lights within The Kingdom of the home; And love-lit faces beam with joy When evening pleasures come. With song and laughter gather they Around the hearth-stone bright. That's all aglow with warmth and cheer, Despite the winter's night. 1912. Page Four Hundred Forty TO CHALMERS WEBER. In Lockwood Hospital, Petoskcy, Mich. iiT^HE sunshine of the hospital" *• They named one Httle boy, Because he greeted everyone With eyes that beamed with joy; As in his cot he patient lay Through many a weary night and day. "The sunshine of the hospital !" O, rightly named is he; For all who meet him bear away A pleasant memory. And those, with him in suffering near, He comforts with his words of cheer. Dear '"sunshine" of the hospital ! I've never seen your face; But I have learned from those who know, Of your loving trustfulness. May Jesus in his arms enfold And bless you, as He blest of old. 1912. Page Four Hundred Forty-one "POOR RICHARD SAYS.'* A part of a Club paper on Benjamin Franklin. AN old-time valued almanac, For years the people's guide, Is quoted still as precepts wise, Ben Franklin did provide; And gave them as *Toor Richard says ;" And so from first to last The homely sayings we accept As arguments clinched fast. Buy nothing that you do not need Just because 'tis cheap ; This teaching of my childhood days I seem compelled to keep ; And when the store windows blaze, And wonders catch the eye, I think of what poor Richard says. And pass the bargains by. Page Four Hundred Forty-two Satins and velvets we are told Put out the kitchen fire ; Extravagance we're taught to shun, To nobler things aspire. Paying too dear for the whistle, when A purchase poor we've made Is quoted for our benefit Too late to give us aid. A word to the wise sufficient is ; Poor Richard says, also Small leaks will sink the greatest ship. Don't "send", in business "go." Don't squander time ; it is the stuff Of which our life is made; And rather than to rise in debt Go supperless to bed. A sleeping fox will never catch The poultry we are told; And God helps those who help themselves Is true for young and old. We're warned when people flatter us They have an ax to grind; If these, and many more we keep We'll have a well-filled mind. 1912. Page Four Hundred Forty-three HAZEL-NUTS. A Day Dream. THE hazel-nuts were turning brown ; And school was out at four; The golden-tinted Autumn trees Made beauty running o'er. The crumpled leaves beneath the feet Made music all its own ; As swiftly sped the feet away Where nuts were thickest grown. The shouts of glee from childhood's lips With echoes filled the air ; For life was new ; the day was bright ; And gladness everywhere. While comes this happy scene again, And short the way appears, I'm looking through a vista long Of nearly fifty years. 1912. Page Four Hundred Forty-four B A GLAD THANKSGIVING. ECAUSE of the gifts from the Father's hand In blessings abundant on sea and land, I wish you a glad Thanksgiving. Because of the fields of golden grain, The sunshine, the clouds and the welcome rain, I wish you a glad Thanksgiving. Because of the fruit of the vine and tree Now crowning the Autumn gloriously, I wish you a glad Thanksgiving. Because of the homes and bright firesides Where faith in its beauty ever abides, I wish you a glad Thanksgiving. Because in a part of the world's great song We may strike some chords as we pass along, I wish you a glad Thanksgiving. Because of our flag that waves above Our native land and the homes we love, I wish you a glad Thanksgiving. 1912. Page Four Hundred Forty-five ''HAVE CROSSED THE BRIDGE SINCE THEN." To my School-mate — Anna Hill. YOU have crossed the bridge since then, dear friend ; Since then; And many faces new and strange You've met since then; And many the years and wide the range You've traversed while joy and sadness blend, Since then; since then. The bridge is there and the sun still shines ; Since then ; There are other feet tripping lightly o'er, In glee since then ; And gathering pebbles on either shore — But sweet the memory our soul inshrines, Since then ; since then. Back to the bridge and childhood's days. Since then, We've wandered oft in many a dream Alas, since then ! Our faces mirrored in the crystal stream, Lived o'er and again the old-time ways ; Since then; since then. 1912. Page Four Hundred Forty-six FRIENDSHIP. FRIENDSHIP; what is it? and what makes a friend? What invisible, mystical tie (You can't understand it, neither can I) That makes one soul with another soul blend ? This rare, priceless gem, how shall we test? 'Tis known by the clear, unmistakable ring When thrown on the mettle of loss to bring Like the rustle of angel wings, life's best. Were friendship canceled from this old earth, We'd count life's struggles as all in vain ; And naught worth the while to which to at- tain; And all the world's honors of little worth. 1913. Page Four Hundred Forty-seven LA MESA. O beautiful La Mesa ! Sweet semblance of Paradise; Thy peaceful hills and valleys Give rest to weary eyes. And hearts o'er burdened, longing For quiet and retreat, May find within thy precinct The heart's desire complete. The stately palms and olives Guard well thy winding ways ; And the charm extends and deepens ; And the picture comes and stays. Dear place of meditation With nature on the throne — The fair heights of La Mesa, And valley of El Cajon. May 1913. Page Four Hundred Forty-eight LOST. HOW much of the joy in the music That thrilled us in other days ; How many the hopes then builded, Are lost in the tangled ways Of Hfe, as we journey onward; — But, we'll find them again, e'er long, In the land where they never grow weary, And there's never a sigh with the song. The tenderest words and the love-light Carelessly slipped from our hold; And darksome regrets of a lifetime Hold place of the treasures of old; They are lost to our clasp and vision. But, we'll find them again, e'er long, In the land where they never grow weary. And there's never a sigh with the song. 1913. Page Four Hundred Forty -nine THE MOCKING BIRD. THE trill, the call, the jubilee, And all sweet songs he sings to me; Rich melodies that o'er and o'er Are wafted through the open door. O mocking bird ! dear mocking bird ! Gathering all that thou hast heard. And weaving in a medley grand. That all who love thee understand. 1913. THE UNFINISHED VOLUME. THIS earth-life's a volume unfinished; A tale that is only half told ; Laid by in the midst of a sentence, Elsewhere to grow and unfold. Page Four Hundred Fifty REV. JOHN DOANE. HE dwells within our heart*?, Though he's vanished from our sight ; And the pathway that he journeyed Leadeth into broader light, He is not dead ; But transferred to higher realms, Where his labors will expand ; By earthly ills untrammeled. He works with freer hand. He is not dead. He lives within the lives Of the youthful band he trained ; Their minds were being lifted Toward the heights that he attained. He leads them still. The beauty of his teaching And influence will extend Through all their future years, And their work with his will blend. He leads them still. Page Four Hundred Fifty-one We are better by the contact Of his noble life with ours ; And the world is made the brighter By his intellectual powers. The one named Christ Had touched his lips, inspiring With words of love, to speak The message of redemption To weary souls who seek The one named Christ. 1913. Page Four Hundred Fifty-two "THE CHRIST OF THE ANDES." ON the summit of the Andes, Upon the boundary line, Between the two repubHcs Of Chile and Argentine Stands a statue of the Christ ; A majestic monument; Their treaty of peace forever To constantly represent. On the pedestal of granite These words inscribed we see : Sooner these mountains crumble Into dust than broken be The peace we've sworn forever At Christ the Redeemer's feet ; And Chileans and Argentines The Bethlehem song repeat. Of peace and good-will to men ; And never more shall strife And wars and insurrections Prevail to mar their life, While high upon the mountains The face of Christ looks down ; One hand the cross uplifting. One pointing toward the crown. 1913. Page Four Hundred Fifty-three AN OCTOBER DAY AT LEHR RANCH. A per feet day ! to charm the eye Are fleecy clouds in bluest sky ; To charm the ear, the birds' glad lay Rings o'er Ramona heights away ; From early dawn their carols sweet Have made the day with joy complete. The mountains, circled far around Seem clasping hands on earth's play-ground; Upon each lofty glowing peak The lights and shades play hide and seek ; And in the sunrise and sunset They make a foreground none forget. Beneath the pine and mulberry trees In rustic seats we take our ease ; And read, perchance, some favorite book, Just suited to this fairy nook ; Till pleasant call shall bid us "come ;" The feast is spread, for all there's room. The moon shines down from starry sky, While nature sings her lullaby; And human hearts are dreaming long Of distant friends and old-time song; And be they glad, or be they lone, God still keeps watch above His own. 1913. Page Four Hundred Fifty-four THE OLD RED TABLE-CLOTH. BRING out the old red table-cloth, And spread the feast upon it ; Bring out the old-time dishes too, Most happily to join it. We'll live again the old days o'er Through keen imagination ; While we make room for vanished ones — The dear old home's foundation. Bring out the old red table-cloth ! So blest with memories olden ; To honor this Thanksgiving day Of harvests rich and golden. 1913. Page Four Hundred Fifty-five IN APPLE BLOSSOM TIME IN MICHI- GAN. THE orchards white with apple blooms Proclaim that May her reign resumes. Was ever picture quite so fair, Or e'er such fragrance in the air ? The winter's gone : the spring is here ; And Michigan is full of cheer In apple blossom time. In apple blossom time ! in apple blossom time ! The winter's gone; the spring is here; And Michigan is full of cheer In apple blossom time. We sing our native State's glad choice While nature adds her own sweet voice; And in her ways and works profound When all the months have rolled around We hail with joy the beauty rare That meets and greets us everywhere In apple blossom time. In apple blossom time ! in apple blossom time ! We hail with joy the beauty rare That meets and greets us everywhere In apple blossom time. Page Four Hundred Fifty -six On hill side and in valleys green, And where her rivers flow serene; And where the Great Lakes bound her shores, And wealth of commerce here outpours. This flower of fruitage leads the van In Michigan, my Michigan In apple blossom time. In apple blossom time ! in apple blossom time ! This flower of fruitage leads the van In Michigan, my Michigan In apple blossom time. 1913. Page Four Hundred Fifty-seven THE BAY OF SAN DIEGO. SLOW the weaving of thy destiny, O Harbor of the Sun ! Slow shining through the centuries The golden threads are spun. And now thy gates are open to The commerce of the world; The earth's industrial banners o'er Thy waters are unfurled. Since the days when Junipero With longing, eager eyes, Watched the ship around Point Loma Bringing starved ones supplies, Thy great future's been in making For the present to disclose ; While the ships of all the nations In thee find safe repose. Beautiful Bay of San Diego ! Blest Harbor of the Sun. From the portals of the Panama First homage now is won. 1914. Page Four Hundred Fifty-eight > o > AT MOODY'S GRAVE. North field, Massachusetts — May 25, 1914. NO lofty shaft of granite stands, Nor masonry of skilful hands To mark the place; But monuments of living power, Where life and thought thrill every hour. His work to trace. These mark the place where Moody sleeps; And where the guardian angel keeps His vigil sure ; On '*Round-top" 'neath a sky serene, Where nature wraps her mantle green. He rests secure. Not here the soul ! In broader spheres He's working through unending years To tell the love And greatness of the Father's gift, Earth's wandering ones to save and lift To things above. Page Four Hundred Fifty-nine THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD FOR PEACE. Tune: ''John Brown/' 1814 The Centenary of the signing of the Treaty of Ghent. 1914. THERE'S music in the atmosphere, there rolls a mighty song; A multitude of voices from a glad triumphant throng ; The coming of the jubilee our hearts have waited long, The whole wide world for peace. Chorus : Glory ! glory hallelujah ! Glory ! glory hallelujah ! Glory! glory hallelujah! The whole wide world for Peace. Not only does Great Britain and America unite. But other lands are joining ranks as we uphold the right ; Their footsteps will be guided by the sure and shining light ; The whole wide world for Peace. Page Four Hundred Sixty We'll print upon our banners and we'll publish far and wide That peace in all our borders shall forevermore abide ; We're under marching orders with the whole world by our side; The whole wide world for Peace. The flags of all the nations cover one great brotherhood ; The greatest height to be attained is that of do- ing good ; And all the praise and glory we will render unto God; The whole wide world for Peace. Page Four Hundred Sixty-one AT CAMP IN ROCKPORT. AWAY from the haunts of men, to rest, To muse and wander, as we love best; Away to the mountains wild and free. Sallied forth a little company Of kindred souls, for a few days sport At the camp in the forest of dear Rockport. Where the stately maples bend their heads O'er the winding paths where the camper treads Through the silent grandeur of the woods. Where naught to mar its peace intrudes. 'Tis God's great temple, with nature's choir To lift our aspirations higher. We sleep in the camp ; we wake in the light Of a summer morning dawning bright ; With the sunlight sifting through the trees Like threads of gold on the whispering breeze; O, the sweet content and rapturous bliss To dwell for a while in a place like this. 1914. Page Four Hundred Sixty-two SELECTIONS FROM A BOOK OF EARLY POEMS. To my Sister Eva. JUST a few thoughts in dream and song, That, lingering, I gathered while passing along Through shadowy mazes, by sunny hillsides ; Through scenes ever changing, to that which abides ; I noted them down as the muse whispered to me, And bring them now as an offering to thee ; Whose life-work has been the young mind to teach, And inspire the soul after knowledge to reach, May thy labor here a true monument stand, When you reap the reward in the bright summer land. 1875. Page Four Hundred Sixty-three L LOOKING AHEAD. OOKING ahead, through sunshine or sor- row; Looking ahead to a brighter to-morrow ; When wearily plodding in the march of life, Or battling for right in the world's great strife, Life would be dreary ; Hope would be dead ; If we were not constantly Looking ahead. No matter how rough the bleak wind blows, No matter how bright the sunshine glows ; For the days that are coming, we eagerly wait ; For the future alone holds the key of their fate ; Life would be dreary ; Hope would be dead, If we were not constantly Looking ahead. Looking ahead when clouds seem unbroken, Through doubts and fears, and thoughts unspok- en. Looking ahead through the tempest's wild roar, To the rest that cometh on yon bright shore. Life would be dreary; Hope would be dead, If we were not constantly Looking ahead. 1873. Page Four Hundred Sixty-four THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. NOT in the busy noontide hour, With the world aglow, not then; Nor with the pomp of an earthly king, Came the mighty Savior of men. But when night's lovely mantle lay O'er Judea's hills and plain, The world was wrapped in sleep's embrace, And holy silence reigned, Angel voices bring the tidings Of the great Redeemer's birth ; Peace and good-will forevermore To the inhabitants of earth. Then wise men came from the East afar O'er mountain, hill, and glen. Safe guided by one shining star, The star of Bethlehem. It guides their weary, aching feet. To a poor and lonely manger. Where with gold, frankincense and myrrh, They present the heavenly stranger. O shepherds ! yours a favored lot. That beautiful song to hear; And we, to-night, while listening still The joyous notes bring near. 1871. Page Four Hundred Sixty-five TO THE NEW YEAR. HAIL to the glad new year ! With song and hearty cheer, Welcome thy coming here, The sweet bells ring; Childhood with fond delight. And youth with footstep light, Old age with calmness bright Their tribute bring. See noble manhood stand In dignity all grand. Offering thee his hand With words of cheer; Welcome with all thy cares, Laden with many prayers Which joy and sorrow shares. Welcome! New Year. Bring with thee noble works, True manhood never shirks. Nor idle fancy lurks In his brain ; Ambition will ever rise To grasp the glorious prize, And to earth bring Paradise, Nor strive in vain. Page Four Hundred Sixty-six Let sorrowing ones of earth Rejoice now at thy birth; To them be of priceless worth, Better than gold; To those now deep in sin To truth and goodness win, And a nobler life begin. In thee unfold. Let truth put wrong to flight, Let sunshine vanquish night, Let virtue with her might In love draw near; In one triumphant song Roll the joyful notes along, How right has conquered wrong This Glad New Year. 1872. Page Four Hundred Sixty-seven THE WEAVER. A weaver sat busily weaving; weaving From morn through the weary day; Weaving the gloomy threads of black, And the tangled threads of gray. A gloom spread over all his work, Like that upon his face; For passion there was monarch firm, And thus o'er shadowed the place. While he steadily worked from morn till night. The same routine to keep, He worked till at last he nodded, one day, He nodded and fell asleep. And he dreamed a very beautiful dream, For angels came, and lo. The idle shuttle they quietly took. Quickly passed it to and fro; Weaving many a shining stripe Of bright and golden gleam; And working with such cheerful faces The dreamer smiled in his dream. Page Four Hundred Sixty-eight Then joyfully he awoke and said : Never again from this day Will I weave any more the gloomy black Or the tangled threads of gray; But I'll gather the gleams of sunshine oft To weave in this web of life; I'll gather the gold from out the dross, And the love that outlives strife. I'll weave kind words with every thread, Pure thoughts complete the filling, While good deeds strengthen the work as a whole, Like heavenly dews distilling. And in life's calm, or in its storm, Bright will the colors be, Since led by Him whose voice stilled The waves of Galilee. 1872. Page Four Hundred Sixty-nine ALL AT HOME. BLOW winds of winter ! we heed you not, For our fire glows warm and bright ; Trouble and care find no place here, For we're all at home to-night, And happily the moments glide ; Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, All gathered 'round the old fireside. Our father's step is quick and light As in the days gone by ; But silver threads take the place of brown. And dimmer grows his eye ; But his heart is ever young ; With laugh so free, And hearty glee He welcomes the children home. The table groans beneath the load Of a bountiful repast, Prepared by our mother's loving hand, Love faithful to the last; And our eldest sister dear. Who helped to bear The burden and care Of our home for many a year, Page Four Hundred Seventy Is here to-night and her presence sheds Joy through every room ; And our elder brother, generous and true, Forgetting his care has come To gladden our household band ; And another Sister and brother. With cheerful heart and hand, Long have labored truths to impart From wisdom's golden lore ; May their presence bless our fireside In many gatherings more. These four new homes have made ; But the youngest. She our dearest Clings with me to the old homestead. Six children at home to-night ! and one Long years ago sought rest; He weary grew ere his little feet Life's thorny way had pressed. And a refuge found in heaven. He dwells to-night In realms of light. Still, we count the number — seven. 1875. Page Four Hundred Seventy-one CONTENTS. From Sea to Sea 5 Fanita and Carriso 7 Eastward-Bound 15 Lake Champlain 22 Camp Idylwilde 24 Delphine 28 Borrowed 55 A Lost Opportunity 56 A Dove at Church 57 Jesus Passed By 59 Sunday Morning 61 "The Sword of the Lord and of Gideon" 64 Inasmuch 66 The Angel of Patience 68 Words My Mother Taught Me 70 The Benediction 72 Chimes of the Months 73-86 January 75 February 76 March 77 April 78 May 79 June 80 July 81 August 82 September 83 October 84 November 85 December 86 The Years 87 Sonnets 88-113 Thanksgiving 89 Words 90 The Meeting of the Magi 91 Midnight 92 On the Hudson 93 Past Noon 94 Omissions 95 Commissions 96 Spring Melodies 97 "Songs in the Night" 98 Mt. Auburn 99 Winds of November 100 Blessed 101 To the River Charles 102 Christmas 103 Easter 104 Contentment 105 A Winter Afternoon 106 Birds 107 The New Year 108 My Choice 109 The Fire Upon the Hearth 110 Sunset Land Ill A Memory 112 Triumph 113 Beyond the Sunset 114 Farewell to 1876 116 Having or Not Having 117 Faith 118 Hope 120 Love 121 Saranac 123 Growth 124 Come Back to Me, Oh Muse! 125 To Greta 127 In Memory of 127 Serving 128 On Visiting the Cemetery at Saranac 129 The North to the South 131 The Cross 132 Longing 133 In Memoriam 134 "It Might Have Been" 136 Morning-Glories 137 An Easy Place 138 To Leora Hall 140 Banquet of the Poets 142 My Father's Picture 146 A Prayer 147 In Memory of Mrs. Anna Bigelow 148 Seeking 149 Pansies 151 Castles in the Air 152 To Ada D. Barnett 154 Phantoms 156 A Sweet Singer of Israel, Gone 157 ii Christ and Nicodemus 158 To Whom Shall We Go 160 Inscribed to 161 The Clouds on the Other Side 162 Easter 163 Among the Mountains 164 'Tis Better to Trust than Doubt 165 My Work-Basket 166 Rest Not 167 To Mrs. L. C. Hull 167 Our Old Clock 170 While There are Sorrowing Souls to Comfort 173 At Eventide 174 Memory is Possession 175 One Year More in School 176 Among the Islands of the St. Lawrence 178 My Birthday 179 Our Mother's Golden Wedding Day 181 Work 182 A Glimpse of Greece 183 The Secret of a Happy Life 185 Experience 186 After 187 Saturday Night 189 Dandelions 190 Waiting 192 1776— Centennial Song— 1876 193 We Thank Thee — Thanksgiving Hymn 194 Come to Me 195 "In a Mysterious Way" 196 Watching and Waiting 200 Read to Me, Darling 201 What Do They Say? 202 To Ashley and Sira Bigelow 204 The Nest 'Neath the Porch 205 Isaac Moore 207 Where Hast Thou Gleaned To-Day? 209 The Little Boy That Loves Me 211 Unuttered 212 Poem 213 Seven Years Old 218 All for You 218 Did We but Know 219 In the Old South Church 220 Bryant 222 iii To Miss Mattie L. Seaver 223 I Would Rather 224 Making the Dark Day Bright 225 Mother, Home, Heaven 226 Hallowe'en 227 Easter Morning 228 Present Days are Best 229 Grandma's Birthday 230 Working with God 231 True Ambition 232 Letter to the Third Reunion of the Bigelow Family, Aug. 14, 1889 233 Fifty Years 234 At My West Window 236 Sunrise on the Mountains 237 Poem 238 What You Can Have 243 The Century's Last Decade 244 Crossing the Rubicon 245 The King's Business 246 Nashville Chautauqua Class of 1888 247 Lilacs 249 The Rainbow 250 Junior Class Song of 1892 253 How the Women Earned a Dollar Each Toward the Parsonage 254 Eva 257 At Noontide 259 Retrospect 260 To Oliver Wendell Holmes 261 At Day-Break 262 Mary and Atlantic 263 So Little Time Between 264 Dreamland 264 Christ is Risen 265 Hear the Robins Sing 266 Poor and Rich 267 Books 267 Columbia's Invitation 268 On the Sea 270 The Unattainable 271 Homesick for Mother and Heaven 272 Only Four Lines 273 The Story of a Star 273 Lines 278 iv Poppies Among the Corn 279 Cherished Words 280 One Summer Day 281 Even Me 284 The Past 285 Must and May 286 Out of the Old Home 287 The Ending of the Summer 288 September Days 289 Out of Sight 290 I Can and I Will 291 To Whittier 292 Where the Two Ways Meet 293 Autumn 294 Topsy, Tony and Turk 295 Fettered 296 When Jesus Came to Bethlehem 297 In Memory of Irving Boston 299 "The Master is Come, and Calleth for Thee" 300 In Memoriam 301 The Angelus 301 Ode 303 Opening Ode 304 Closing Ode 305 Lines Addressed to the Moon 306 "Rest, and be Thankful" 307 Our Mattie 308 Make Haste 309 The Glad News 310 If 310 Postponed 311 A Friend 312 To a Bird Singing at Twilight 313 A Road-Side Flower 314 "The Early Called" 315 Somewhere 316 At Sixty Years 317 In the Vale and on the Hill 318 In Wild-Rose Time 319 When the Birds Come Back 320 Yesterdays 321 Don Quixote 323 Sleeping and Waking 324 Kadesh-Barnea 325 Thou Hast Made the Earth Beautiful 327 Toward the Heights 328 He is Risen 329 If I Have My Wish 329 My Time to Die 330 The Rosebud in the Snow 331 Longing for Home 332 To Mrs. Nellie Banks 333 All Hail to Glad Easter 335 Exchanged, In Memory of 335 Hannah in the Pew 336 Amelia 337 Friends 338 Thorn-Apples 340 "I Wish You a Merry Christmas" 341 Farewell Old Year 342 Christ at Jacob's Well 343 Poems for the G. A. R. 1883-1891 344-357 Around the Camp-Fire 344 Our Fallen Heroes 347 The Boys in Blue 350 Through Old Virginia 352 A Tribute to General Sherman 355 In the Adirondacks 358 Sunrise on Lake Champlain 361 Moonlight on Lake Champlain 361 The St. Regis 363 The Old Corner Cupboard 364 The Subway 366 The Message of the Leaves 367 The Twentieth Century 368 Gather the Roses While they Bloom 369 The Mountains of the Northwest 370 San Francisco Bay 371 In Memory of Dr. W. H. Young 372 "I Wish You a Happy New Year" 374 When God Sends the Robins Back 375 Our Pastor 376 Mt. Shasta 378 A Prayer 379 A Fragment 379 Not Mine 380 The Message 380 Wisdom is Strength 381 Marquita 382 One Afternoon 383 vi Lines 384 To Cassius L. Glasgow 384 Not "Too Late," but "Too Soon" 385 Be Hopeful 386 Fifty Years 386 My Window in Thrums 388 Corpus Christi 390 The Sweetest Song 391 To Mr. and Mrs. H. A. Brooks 392 The Teaching of the Trees 394 Christmas in California 396 The Sierras 397 The Polnsetta 397 San Diego 398 Jack 400 Sunset on Point Loma 401 San Diego Public Library 401 Old Mexico 402 The Fourth of July 403 Thoughts of San Diego 404 The Little Pink Sunbonnet 404 To Mr. and Mrs. Levi BIgelow 407 Augustus Stlllwell 409 An Invitation 410 Saranac Fifty Years Ago 412 Concealed 415 Katydid 416 A Stray Thought 417 Worth While 418 Abraham Lincoln 419 In the Hand of the Potter 421 Lines 422 The Well by the Gate 423 The Little Brown Cottage 424 The Little Church Among the Hills 425 Margaret 426 By the Georgian Bay 427 Mayfield 428 Bellfountain 430 William S. Barnett 431 A Joyful Easter 432 Benjamin Hathaway 433 A Gift of Roses 434 The California Poppy 435 "On the Posy Side" 436 vii San Miguel 437 The White Covered Wagon 438 To Mr. and Mrs. H. A. Brooks 439 Two Pictures 440 To Chalmers Weber 441 "Poor Richard Says" 442 Hazel-Nuts 444 A Glad Thanksgiving 445 "Have Crossed the Bridge Since Then" 446 Friendship 447 La Mesa 448 Lost 449 The Mocking Bird 450 The Unfinished Volume 450 Rev. John Doane 451 "The Christ of the Andes" 453 An October Day at Lehr Ranch 454 The Old Red Table-cloth 455 In Apple Blossom Time in Michigan 456 The Bay of San Diego 458 At Moody's Grave 459 The Whole Wide World for Peace 460 At Camp in Rockport 462 Selections from a Book of Early Poems 463-470 Looking Ahead 464 The Star of Bethlehem 465 To the New Year 466 The Weaver 468 All at Home 470 viu