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DAY DREAMS 
 
 A BOOK OF 
 
 Poems and Essays 
 
 BY 
 
 t/ 
 
 JOSIE A. KELSO 
 
 yv6'. ic, 
 
 / 
 
 CINCINNATI 
 ROBERT CLARKE & CO., PRINT 
 
 1S7S 
 
T5 2.1^1 
 
 COPYRIGHT. 
 
 JOSIE A. KEI.SO. 
 
 1S7S. 
 
PKEFACE 
 
 I HEREBY dedicate to mj- friends, this, my 
 first literar}^ production, returning thanks 
 for the words of cheer received from many, 
 and trusting that, wliile scanning these 
 pages, you may find that there is something 
 real in dreams after all, e'en though they be 
 day-time musings, penned when the mid- 
 night oil burns low. 
 
 And now I leave you, trusting that your 
 Day Dreams may be pleasant ones ; knowing 
 that if clouds should rise to mar their 
 brightness, there is a hand which can lead 
 through life's deepest shadow. 
 
 Sincerely Yours. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOE. 
 
 Through Golden Gates, 9 
 
 The Old Cabin, 12 
 
 JBeauti/id, ....... 17 
 
 Lost Treasures, , , . . . .19 
 
 Where the Shadows Fall, .... 22 
 
 Friendship, ....... 25 
 
 Napoleon, ....... 28 
 
 Dreams, . . . . . . .32 
 
 Old Books, 33 
 
 Life's Morning, ...... 35 
 
 The Future, 40 
 
 Omens, ........ 41 
 
 Fart lis Ti-easures, ..... 45 
 
 The Summer Wind, ..... 47 
 
 The Hermit, 49 
 
 Autumn Leaves, ...... 52 
 
 The Slain Soldier, ..... 54 
 
 Reading, ....... 56 
 
 My Journey, ...... 61 
 
 Beyond the Clouds, 65 
 
 The Brave, 66 
 
 The Stories L Heard hy the River Side, . . 67 
 
 Sufumer Showers, ..... 72 
 
 Dewdrops, ....... 75 
 
 Flowers, ....... 76 
 
 (v) 
 
VI COXTENTS. 
 
 PAGK. 
 
 Sunshine, ..... . . 78 
 
 Life's Joys, ...... 80 
 
 The Snow, 82 
 
 The Old and the New, .... 85 
 
 Faces, 91 
 
 Autumn Musings, ..... 94 
 
 Evening, ....... 97 
 
 The Summer Wood, 99 
 
 When the Millions Slumber, .... 101 
 
 Friendship s Offering, . . . . . 103 
 
 Our Given Task, 104 
 
 Shadows, . . . . . . . 106 
 
 The Dove, 107 
 
 America, . . . . . . . ■ 108 
 
 The Winccup, . . . . . .111 
 
 Our Work will Tell, 1 14 
 
 By Faith, 116 
 
 The Beggar s Christmas, . . . . ] 20 
 Going to Grandma's, . . . . .124 
 
 Thinking, 127 
 
 Childhood, 129 
 
 In and Out, . . . . . . 133 
 
 Tribute to Winter, ...... 135 
 
 Flight of Time, 137 
 
 The Lone Grave, ...... 140 
 
 A Priceless Gift, 142 
 
 Clover Blossoms, . . . ' . . .146 
 
 Sold, 147 
 
 Nobody's Child 148 
 
 For What do We Labor? .... 151 
 
 Life, 155 
 
 Evening Scenes, . . . . . 159 
 
CONTENTS. VU 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Crouns We Wear, . . . . .161 
 
 Gone, . . . . . . . . 164 
 
 Air Castles, ....... 167 
 
 A Lost Year, ...... 170 
 
 Yesterday, To-day, and To-morroic, . . .173 
 Times Tabids, . . . . ■. . 178 
 
 Words, 179 
 
 Shut Out, . . .■ . . . . 183 
 
 Hope, ........ 185 
 
 Waiting, 185 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 THROUGH GOLDEN GATES. 
 
 " Scientiii est poteiitia." 
 
 There's a golden gate wliicli stands ajar, 
 Inviting the countless niilTKnis in, 
 
 Who crowd the wa}' \Yith an eager tread, 
 All anxious now the prize to win. 
 
 All — did I say? A few stand still, 
 And watch the others as they go. 
 
 Like rushing waters of a tireless stream 
 That ever onward flow. 
 
 Onward, onward, never ceasing! 
 
 To stop is but to fall — 
 And be trampled by the mighty tiirong 
 
 In the dust by the shadowy u all. 
 
 To be lost, and be forgotten — 
 Like the flashing meteor bright, 
 
 ('•0 
 
10 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Which lights the sky for a moment, 
 Then vanishes through the shades of 
 night. 
 
 There 's a crystal cup, with a shining brim, 
 Tiiat holds a beverage, pure and sweet; 
 
 And every breeze which passes by. 
 
 Its fragrance bears, our sense to greet. 
 
 We reach our hands to grasp it, 
 
 But afar off then it seems ; 
 Yet lures us on, though the way be rough, 
 
 With its never-fading gleams. 
 
 There 's a jewel bright, that ne'er corrodes, 
 
 ' Tis free from hidden dross ; 
 And he who wins, need have no fear — 
 
 His treasure can not be lost. 
 
 But many feet have stumbled. 
 
 When heart, and hands grew weak ; — 
 Because the days grow shadowy, 
 
 And winds blew fierce and bleak. 
 
 Only brave hearts ever win 
 This jew^el of countless worth. 
 
DAr-DREAMS. 11 
 
 'Tis not for kings alone to claim, 
 ITor inherited from a noble birth. 
 
 Out of poverty's darksome depth, 
 Many it has raised to proud estate ; 
 
 And scared tlie wolf from open doors, 
 As it entered through the humble gate. 
 
 Caused flowers to spring where thorns 
 grew wild; 
 
 For low thatched roofs erected domes ; 
 Scattered shadows afar, from dreary spots, 
 
 And hovels turned to palace homes. 
 
 What matter if your hairs grow white. 
 As the sands in the stream run down ; 
 
 There's a power yet unconquered, 
 If this jewel gleams in your crown. 
 
i^ DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 THE OLD CABIN". 
 
 Alone it stands, a cabin old, 
 
 Where grow the dense weeds rank 
 , . ' and tall. 
 The roof is green with clinging moss. 
 
 And the wild vine creeps up window 
 and wall. 
 
 The mortar is falling from out the chinks ; 
 
 And the chimney has tumbled down ; 
 The old door creaks on its rusty hinge, , 
 
 Weather-stained with streaks of brown. 
 
 , - -.•■ri 
 
 The old elm casts a shadow still, 
 
 That falis aslant the floor, 
 And the great boughs swa}^ in the sum- 
 mer breeze. 
 
 As they have done so oft before. 
 
 The garden gate is broken down ; 
 
 The fence is leaning too ; 
 The flowers have faded long ago, 
 
 That by the pathway grew. 
 
DAY-DREAMS 13 
 
 The stranger passes on his way, 
 With a grave and earnest face, 
 
 Lending not one thought of his 
 To the old deserted place. 
 
 Bat farmer " Grey" comes driving by," 
 With his ox-team, sure, though slow; 
 
 Hale and hearty, honest, too — 
 On his cheek a healthy glow. 
 
 Talking lively all the while 
 To the good wife by his side, 
 
 Telling of this neighbor's cows and sheep. 
 And that one's acres wide. 
 
 " And thar's the old home-place 
 Of honest neighbor Wayne." 
 
 And a cloud passes o'er his pleasant face, 
 As he speaks aloud the name. 
 
 " Wall, he was as good a farmer 
 
 As ever tilled the ground, 
 And a better hand at raisin' stock, 
 
 Could be found no whar around. 
 
 *' And ' Bessie,' too, was a comely wife : 
 er buti 
 sweet; 
 
 Her butter and cheese war good and 
 
14 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 She helped the poor; attended the sick; 
 And all her deeds were meet. 
 
 "But that 'Bill' of theirn was a wild 
 one, sure. 
 
 I never liked the lad. 
 He ran away to get rid of work, 
 
 And must have come to something bad." 
 
 And thus he talks as the old wheels screak, 
 Which carry them on their way — 
 
 To their own happy home on yonder hill, 
 "Where they 've dwelt in peace for many 
 a day. 
 
 A strange one pauses now, 
 
 In front of the cabin lone : 
 There's a look of care on his sunbrowned 
 face. 
 And he murmurs a word, which sounds 
 like — Home. 
 
 For a vision passes o'er him. 
 Of boyhood's joyous day, 
 When his heart was light as the morning 
 air, 
 And he trod, unburdened, the sunny 
 way. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 15 
 
 Again he sits by the old hearthstone, 
 And father and mother are there; 
 
 And the sister dear — his boyhood pride — 
 With her laughing eye and golden hair. 
 
 Again they roam in the woodland, 
 
 In search of violets blue : 
 Or on the verdant sunny slopes, 
 
 Where the daisies thickly grew. 
 
 He goes again to the schoolhouse quaint, 
 Where he lisped the A, B, C, 
 
 And learned his first lesson in numbers, 
 Feeling wise as mortal could be. 
 
 He walks again in furrows, 
 
 Where he dropped the golden grains 
 of corn, 
 While the sunbeams lay aslant th' hills. 
 Yet damp with the glistening dews of 
 morn. 
 
 Then came the heart's w;ild longings 
 After the w^orld's bright glitter and 
 show. 
 And the whispering voice could not be 
 hushed — 
 That was ever bidding him " 6rO." 
 
16 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 " Go from the home that shelters thee I 
 Go, though a mother's tears may plead ! 
 
 Go, and the world will honor thee! 
 'Tis Fame that man most needs." 
 
 He sought a home in a sunny land. 
 The world freely gave of its bountiful 
 store, 
 The promised famehe knew as his own, 
 Yet his heart still longed for something 
 more. 
 
 And now he's returned to the land of his 
 birth, 
 
 Returned, not as he went, 
 ISTot the vigorous, hopeful youth, 
 
 But solemn, and old, and bent. 
 
 His childhood joys have passed away, 
 As has passed his childhood home; 
 
 And a wreck of his boyhood's fondest 
 love 
 Seems the cabin old and lone. 
 
 Three white stones in the distance gleam. 
 That tell where fond hearts silent laj^ ; 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 17 
 
 And he brashes a tear from his suii- 
 browiicd cheek, 
 As he turns and slowly walks away. 
 
 BEAITTIFIJL. 
 
 Beautiful faces smiling sweetly, 
 
 Scattering sunshine where they go, 
 That brightly shines as a glittering gem. 
 
 Entering places dark and low. 
 Beautiful faces, ever hovering 
 
 O'er the couch of pain or death, 
 Lending comfort to the weary. 
 
 E'en when floats the last faint breath. 
 
 Beautiful eyes, gleaming brightly ! 
 
 I see the light of heaven there ! 
 Who Avould dream they e'er were mois- 
 tened 
 
 By the dews of earthly care? 
 Beautiful eyes that look in pity 
 
 Where the sorrowing dwell, 
 Speaking from their silent depths. 
 
 Of a beautiful soul they always tell. 
 
18 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Beautiful liuiids, so willinir and ready 
 
 To lift the veil of care, 
 To pluck the thorns, wherever they grow. 
 
 And scatter roses there. 
 Beautiful hands that smooth the pillow 
 
 Where lies the weary head, 
 Beautiful forms, that lightlj- move 
 
 Around the sulierer's bed. 
 
 Beautiful feet that tread earth's pathways ; 
 
 ]^ot where rank and riches dwell, 
 JSTot in halls of joy and mirth, 
 
 Where the notes of music swell. 
 But wherever duty ealleth. 
 
 They are ready to obey — 
 In the darkness of the midnight. 
 
 At the morn, or through the day. 
 
 Yes, beautiful avgeh dwell below ! 
 
 A few the Lord hath given. 
 To cheer us on the darksome way, 
 
 And light us home to heaven. 
 Each, I know, can think of one 
 
 Who ever hovers near. 
 And sweetly speaks with voice so soft 
 
 That drowns each risino; fear. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 19 
 
 LOST TKEASURES. 
 
 I met a cliild on the dnsty road; 
 
 His face looked grieved, and his head 
 bent down ; 
 His eyes were red from weeping; 
 
 And it saddened me to see a frown 
 Where not but sunbeams e'er sliould play, 
 
 Where not but smiles s^hoidd linger long 
 And liear a murmur from rosy lips, 
 
 That should part to trill only merry 
 songs. 
 
 I paused, when I crossed his path, 
 
 To inquire into his childish grief, 
 Thinking mayhap some word or act 
 
 Might prove itselt' a blest relief. 
 He looked straight up into my face — 
 
 " Why need I tell you ? "—then he said, 
 "I've searched in every fencerow, along 
 the standing hedge. 
 
 But I shall never find it;" and again 
 he drooped his head. 
 
 " I know I should have spent it, 
 For a marble, or a lig; 
 
20 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 But thoiight to keep it long, sir, 
 And get more when I was big. 
 
 But now its hidden in the sand, 
 And not again will I have anj-; 
 
 1 tossed it so, from hand to hand, 
 O, sir, I've lost my penny ! " 
 
 I smiled at his simple statement, 
 
 Yet entered into his ciiildish sorrow — 
 N^ot different quite from vexations of oui^s, 
 
 The troubles they say we borrow. 
 Yet they seem so heavy and burdensome, 
 too. 
 
 That we bear them, not uncomplaining, 
 TJl^ the steep way so rugged, and rough. 
 
 We sometimes feel our strength is wan- 
 ing. 
 
 I gave him another, bright and new, 
 And he smiled as he took it from my 
 hand. 
 And grasped it tight as he walked away ; 
 Yet a longing look I saw in his face, 
 for the penny lost in the sand. 
 It's ever thus in this life of ours. 
 We grieve for joys that are lost ; 
 
DAY-I'REAMS. 21 
 
 And rich, new gifts can ne'er recom- 
 pense 
 For those our hands so rnthlessly tossed 
 
 Over tlie hedgerow, among the weeds, 
 
 That hide them from our sight; 
 And we search in vain, 'till weary we 
 grow. 
 And the day fades into night. 
 We searcli in vain ak)ng life 's strand 
 
 For pearls we scattered wide. 
 But they rolled away with the golden 
 sand, 
 And were hastily drank by the thirsty 
 tide. 
 
 Oh ! for the flowers that faded 
 
 When crushed 'neath heedless feet, 
 Till their incense floated on every breeze. 
 
 In vapory clouds, unseen, yet sweet. 
 There's a sad unrest in our souls to-day 
 
 For gems that are lost, and we can not 
 find : 
 We knew not their worth till we'd cast 
 them away ; 
 
 To all their beauty our eyes were blind. 
 
22 DAY-DREAxMS. 
 
 We know we ne'er can find them, 
 Till we enter the gateway tlirougb, 
 
 Where a hand has [tlaced them safe away 
 In a casket rich and new. 
 
 WHERE THE SHADOWS FALL. 
 
 Where do the shadows fall ? 
 
 In the silent haunts of the dark, green 
 "wood, 
 Where the great boughs meet with a 
 friendly touch, 
 N^or strife nor confusion e'er intrnde? 
 
 Where the restless ferns gently fan the 
 breeze, 
 
 Like elfin wings, so airy and light, 
 Then droop as a spirit bowed in grief, 
 
 When fades the day-smile bright? 
 
 Where do the shadows fall ? 
 
 In the valleys low, beside the stream 
 Of shaded waters that never tire. 
 
 But merrily ripple, dance, and gleam — 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 23 
 
 With no glad eye to admire, 
 
 No thrilling voice to praise, 
 Except the huntsman, as he cools liis brow, 
 
 Dreaming the while of boyhood days — 
 
 And the babbling stream so far away, 
 Which mnrmurs onward still, 
 
 As it did in the haj)py days agone. 
 
 When it turned the wheels of the old- 
 time mill ? 
 
 Where do the shadows fall ? 
 
 Ill the church-yard, silent and cold, 
 W^here the white stones gleam in the fair 
 moonlight, 
 
 Standing as sentinels, true and bold? 
 
 Where do the shadows fall ? 
 
 Do they ever enter the palace grand. 
 Where beauty and art are in full array, 
 
 Fashioned and typed by wealth's pow- 
 erful hand? 
 
 Enter thou in, then ask thyself 
 If shadows have ever been there ; 
 
 It seems tlicy 'd hurriedly vanish 
 
 From the presence of grandeur and 
 beauty to fair. 
 
24 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 But bush ! step lightly as yon go ; 
 
 Faint let your footfall be ! 
 Ilark ! I hear a sigh — a inoan — 
 
 And faces sad I see ! 
 
 Faces that anxiousl}' hover o'er 
 The conch where a lored one lies, 
 
 Whose s[)irit has made its last struggle, 
 For closed are the beautiful eyes. 
 
 A mother kneels and kisses 
 
 The brow of her cherished boy. 
 
 While the father, in silent agony, 
 
 Grieves at the loss of his earthU' jo3\ 
 
 A dark, dark clond has fallen 
 
 Upon that happy home, 
 And its shadow long will linger 
 
 O'er hearts now sad and lone. 
 
 Bat I will not stop or linger ; 
 
 I '11 go abroad to see 
 If there is not nook or flowery dell 
 
 Where no shadow e'er will be. 
 
 I sae young faces, pure and sweet. 
 
 Yet they bear too plain the marks of 
 care. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 25 
 
 For all too soon the spoiler came, 
 
 I know, for the shadows have fallen 
 there. 
 
 Ah, whither I go, 't is ever the same, 
 It seems that my spirit might gather 
 delight 
 From the beauty I see, and the music I 
 hear. 
 But, alas ! 'tis lost in the shades of 
 night. 
 
 I find that I stand in a gathering mist ; 
 
 From its presence I never can tiee ! 
 But visions sweet yet linger to tell 
 
 Of a haven where shadows will never be. 
 
 FRIEI^JDSHIP. 
 
 Friendship — true, unassuming friend- 
 ship — exercises a sweet and hoi}' influence 
 o'er our beings, adding new graces and 
 charms to life, which enter into, and be- 
 come a part of the living self, beautifying 
 
26 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 the soul, and causing it to shine with a 
 dazzling radiance. 
 
 A true friend ! — priceless gift ! 
 
 Dive not to the ocean's depths, to pro- 
 cure gems of beauty with which to adorn 
 life ; for, so sure as the shadows gather at 
 eve, there will come a time when such 
 ■will cease to charm, and the hearts long- 
 ings refuse to be satisfied by the glitter 
 of gold or diamonds rare. They will 
 seem only as so many unpolished pebbles 
 from sandy wastes. 
 
 The eye sometimes grows weary of too 
 much dazzle and glitter ; but the soul 
 never tires of that sweet sympathy — 
 friendship's oifering. 
 
 Beautifully shines friendship's golden 
 chain ! But I sometimes think the links 
 of which it is composed are too few. 
 There is too much cold selfishness in our 
 world. We are all children of one parent. 
 And He has created for us a peaceful 
 abode, and adorned it with much beauty 
 and light. But do w^e all dwell together 
 in unity ? Do we feel a sweet good-will 
 toward all mankind? If so, 'tis well. 
 Too many of us monopolize much of our 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 27 
 
 time in studying society's wants and 
 wishes. We think if we can only please, 
 and become a favored one in that varied 
 circle, we have gained a much-wished 
 boon. 
 
 But is the possession worth the labor 
 of retention '( When adversit}^ comes, 
 will society fly to our aid on willing wings 
 — or will she stand coldly staring, at a 
 measured distance, in the back-ground ? 
 Ask thyself! Opportunity will give an- 
 swer. And I fear it will be one of icy 
 coldness. 
 
 Friendship is an attraction toward that 
 we admire or love. It is almost univer- 
 sally true, that friendships most lasting, 
 or the strongest attachments, spring up 
 between those natures of entirely differ- 
 ent mechanism. I have noted this, but 
 have neither studied nor asked the cause. 
 
 How good it seems to meet with one 
 who can understand, or see us in our true 
 light. 'T is seldom that we do meet such 
 an one, and our deeds and actions are oft 
 miscomprehended by our many associates. 
 For our best aims or endeavors we oft 
 
28 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 receive from the world an unmerited re- 
 buff. 
 
 Friendship improves the peace, and ex- 
 pands the joys of life. It is the most 
 sacred of all bonds. 
 
 In forming new ties of friendship, maj' 
 we ever be mindful that not the truest 
 hearts beat 'neath the folds of silk or 
 velvet, but many noble beings walk here 
 clothed in raiment coarse and homely. 
 
 I^APOLEON. 
 
 What greater man e'er lived than he? 
 Great, yet not in the sense of goodness. 
 For who can call that good which seeks 
 
 only power to conquer ? 
 Conquer, not to save the right, but to 
 
 satisfy the soul's desire — 
 To quench the lire that burns within. 
 And rages like a loosened fiend! 
 Personal glory he sought, he found — 
 He won, to lose — he rose, to fall ; 
 His life, was like a surging wave, 
 That never rests, but higher rolls. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 29 
 
 Throwing afar its feathery spray; 
 Dashing madl}' against the vessel's prow, 
 When black clouds hang over th' ocean 
 
 deep, 
 Like a cnrtaiii dark, shading heaven's 
 
 gleam, 
 That shines on still, neatli its murky fokls 
 
 outspread. 
 Shall we call him true or false? 
 He w^as true in war, alone. 
 What name but false would so well express 
 That genius — a greater never given — 
 Used only to place self high above his 
 
 fellow men. 
 Commanding praise for glorious deeds. 
 E'en though the marks of blood 
 Were stamped upon the greatest of all. 
 His nature of metallic mold 
 Ne'er was touched by pity's spell; 
 And ne'er fell upon his marble heart 
 That tender feeling which aw^akes the soul 
 To know its childish weakness. 
 And lean upon a power, unborn 
 Within man's bosom, e'er deiiled. 
 He knew not love, for ambiiion''s spell 
 O'erbalanced all it ever tells 
 Of that nobler feeling to mortals given. 
 
30 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 To elevate, to beautify, and place the 
 
 possessor 
 Where truth and honor glorify, 
 O, sad that looman's heart should have 
 Worshiped at that awful shrine. 
 Carved from stone, with adamantine walls 
 That toppled, tearing the clinging vine, 
 From the strength to which it closely 
 
 cleaved, 
 And left it trailing in the dust, 
 Bruised and broken — bleeding, crushed — 
 That his name might live forever, 
 And France rejoice at her sovereign peer. 
 "France, and Napoleon united for aye!" 
 His name will resound throughout ages, 
 And awaken admiration for the possessor, 
 Who stood in battle, as itone have stood; 
 Who founded nations with a fearless hand ; 
 Who gained bright laurels for his brow, 
 But lived to see them torn therefrom, 
 And trampled in the dust by proud 
 England's haughty feet. 
 O, mighty was the fall ! 
 And fierce was the gathering storm 
 That raged in that haughty bosom. 
 When fettered became that boundless will, 
 A prisoner on a lonely isle, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 31 
 
 Where guards his every movement 
 
 wutclicd ; 
 All exile from his native soil — 
 His life a living death became. 
 The great waves dashed against the shore, 
 When the storm-king raged with might; 
 But they only mocked his tortured breast, 
 For they were free — no chains to bind. 
 Did he welcome the message, vi^lien at last 
 
 it came, 
 And bid him prepare for his last great 
 
 battle ? 
 They say the night was dark and wild. 
 When friends knelt round his dying 
 
 pillow. 
 The few that his stern heart cared to 
 
 own — 
 The few that loved the fallen great. 
 He dreamed of battles fierce and wild, 
 On Austrain fields so red and gory ! 
 Of broken ranks, and armies maimed. 
 And hosts that fled before the French- 
 man 's sword. 
 He dreamt of scaling Alpine heights — 
 With an army brave and strong — 
 Whose snow-capped summits looked afar 
 O'er nations conquered by his sword. 
 
32 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 "T ete d'Armfee," he said, as his eye 
 grew dim and his voice grew w^eak, 
 
 And the kingiy look from his face w^ent 
 out — 
 
 He sank on his pillow cold and still; 
 
 Conquered at last was his iron will. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 Dreaming, dreaming, ever dreaming ! 
 
 While the hoars glide swiftly on ; 
 Dreaming in the peaceful morning — 
 
 Dreaming in the shadowy dawn. 
 
 'No spell or power of earth can call me 
 
 From my happy dreams ; 
 And life's darkest hours are lighted 
 
 By their heavenly beams. 
 
 Far above the storm-king's terror, 
 They bear me onward still ; 
 
 When the mighty winds are raging ! 
 And the thunders speak His will. 
 
 High above the ocean's raging. 
 
 They carry me safely to lands I love ; 
 
DAY-DREAxAIS. 33 
 
 And I stiuid on foreign mountain peaks, 
 And gaze on floating clouds above. 
 
 How much of life is real ? 
 
 I sometimes think 'tis all a dream ; 
 Tije golden moments glide so swift 
 
 Adown the murmuring stream. 
 
 OLD BOOKS. 
 
 N"ever, never throw a book aside, 
 branded as worthless, because it has be- 
 come grirae.hy age. What! wouhl you 
 discard one who has been a true frien.d 
 in by-gone days, because years have 
 changed the outAvard appearance — well 
 knowing that the heart and mind are yet 
 the same ? 
 
 •"Ah ! no," you say. Though age has 
 set his seal upon face and form, there is 
 little change. The soul still possesses its 
 former charm — that which first drew you 
 toward it in love and friendship. "]!^o, 
 no!" you can not forsake that friend. 
 Then why forsake that other — which. 
 
34 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 though it does not breathe, possesses life ? 
 Life — not cariiate — but life which means 
 knowledge; that which illumes the mind 
 witli a light inextinguishable. And for- 
 get not the hours of pleasure it has af- 
 forded 3'Ou, as you pondered o'er its then 
 smooth pages, gaining priceless knowl- 
 edge, and advice of great worth. Per- 
 haps it was the tirst to instill into your 
 mind ideas which have since led you to 
 the seat of honor and fame. Then spurn 
 it not; but tenderly mend its worn pages, 
 as you Avould lieal the wounds of a clier- 
 islied friend. And inasmuch as it has 
 enlightened you, recommend it to others, 
 before that other arrayed in gilt and pur- 
 ple, of whose merits you know but little. 
 And, surely, it is worth a place on the 
 first shelf of your library. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 35 
 
 LIFE'S MORmi^a. 
 
 The suiisliiiie falls in golden showers, 
 
 Scattering its glory everywhere; 
 Each path is strewn with fairest flowers, 
 
 That sweetly breathe on the mornino- 
 air. 
 Myriads of glistening gems gleam forth, 
 
 Not yet stolen by the sunlight's ray — 
 Transient gems, and yet of worth — 
 
 Hiding their gleaming at approach of 
 day. 
 
 Fleecy clouds are moving fiist 
 
 Through the azure of the sky — 
 But phantom forms that soon are past ; 
 
 Born so frail and quick to die. 
 The music that I hear is sweet. 
 
 As wafted on the breeze afar, 
 All earth's willing ones to greet, 
 
 Waking joys by its unseen power. 
 
 Many pure founts are bountifully spring- 
 ing, 
 Gushing in beauty from the heart's 
 deep well ; 
 
86 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Their crystal waten>freely fliiio-ing 
 
 Till tliey fall on some soul like a mys- 
 tical spell. 
 And so it is, that, in life's morning, 
 
 Tlie face is lit by the power of love, 
 And keeps its brightness e'en to the 
 dawning — 
 Aye, carries it home to tlie world above. 
 
 But the morn is fading fast away; 
 
 Day follows closely her tracks, e'en 
 now. 
 Though in vain we beckon her to stay; 
 While the sun is nearing the hill's fair 
 brow. 
 But are we idle all this time, 
 
 As we drink in beauties not yet grown 
 old, 
 And marvel at nature's works sublime, 
 And her tales of wisdom so wonder- 
 fully told? 
 
 Surely, hands and mind are emploj'ed. 
 Culling the blossoms, absorbing tiic 
 dew. 
 
 Gathering jewels — pure, unalloyed 
 
 JcAvels of brightness that ever seem new\ 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 37 
 
 No room for idlers in the Held 
 
 Of busy workers here. 
 We must plant in the morn good seed, 
 
 If a harvest we'd reap at the closing 
 year. 
 
 'T is the time when Ambition burns in the 
 soul, 
 Whispering of Fame's great power; 
 Bidding : " Go on to thy cherished goal, 
 And receive at last thy waiting dower." 
 But many castles are erected that fall, 
 Though they seem so grand, towering 
 high ! 
 And a golden gleam, from their turrets 
 tall. 
 Shines like a star in the far-off sky. 
 
 We write onr names on the sandy beach ; 
 But the tide comes in, and where are 
 they ? 
 We strain our eyes the impression to 
 reach. 
 But it 's mingled with waters and borne 
 away. 
 Then life's morn seems e'en most shrouded 
 'i^eatli a somber veil, 
 
do DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 And the sk}^ is densely clouded — 
 -All its brightness growing pale. 
 
 When youth's first fond dreams are 
 blighted, 
 'T is hard to submit to the power of 
 fate, 
 Seeing onr w^orks by the whole world 
 slighted, 
 As we stand outside, and they bar the 
 gate. 
 There are many lessons of submission to 
 learn, 
 To a will so great and strong; 
 There are paths to be sought, and paths to 
 be spurned — 
 Pleed well thy footsteps in life's morn ! 
 
 I saw a youth, whose eye was gleaming 
 
 With Ambition's quenchless fire ; 
 In whose heart was constant dreaming 
 
 Of mounting steps that would lead him 
 higher. 
 I saw a man who had gained a name, 
 
 That rang throughout tiie land ; 
 He stood on the highest round of Fame, 
 
 And nations moved at his command. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 39 
 
 I saw a sinner, weighted down 
 
 With a burden more than he could 
 bear ; 
 And I knew by his face, with a darksome 
 frown. 
 That his heart was lieavy with constant 
 care. 
 For as onward glided fast the years, 
 
 Swiftly by the current borne, 
 Nor Fame, nor Ambition could drown 
 his fears — 
 He'd sought no guide in the early 
 morn. 
 
 If we start aright, with God's law for our 
 guide, 
 And shun the evil as we go, 
 We '11 come out sure on the sunny side, 
 
 A reward of worth to know. 
 "When the shadows gather, and tlie heart 
 has grown old, 
 And we hear a voice from the river's 
 brink. 
 Calling for His " Hundred Fold," 
 
 We may cross the stream, and from 
 life's fountain drink. 
 
40 DAY-DREAM 
 
 THE FUTURE. 
 
 O, would some secret power reveal 
 The mysteries hidden in the morrow ; 
 
 Lift the vapors that conceal 
 
 The light or gloom, the joy or sorrow. 
 
 It seems the heart might then prepare 
 To sup the sweets, or taste the gall, 
 
 Kor wilt heneath a load of care, 
 Though heavy he the fall. 
 
 'We gaze in vain to pierce the veil 
 That shades the land of mj'stery ; 
 
 'No voice to utter the untold tale, 
 That Fate prepares for you and me. 
 
 Each day is like a printed leaf — 
 
 We read, then wait to glean another; 
 
 Though some may seem in shadows 
 wreathed, 
 And often try our wits to hother. 
 
 "We'd fain turn to the volume's end, 
 And sec how the storv would close ; 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 41 
 
 Know how the liglits, and shadows blend, 
 How thick the thorns grew 'round the 
 rose. 
 
 What is now, and what shall be 
 
 Our lifetime legacy, — 
 Whom to trust, from whom to flee, 
 
 Where lingers most resplendency. 
 
 ISTot the poet's pen, nor tbe prophet's 
 tongue, 
 
 T]"uthful]y may say 
 What lies beneath the curtain, hung 
 
 To veil the coming day. 
 
 OMEl^S. 
 
 The morn is fair as Eden's light, 
 
 The sky is clear and blue. 
 The flowers blush 'neath coronets 
 
 Of glistening gems — the early dew. 
 
 The great green slopes of the far-oft' hills 
 Seem smiling back to tbe sun. 
 
 And praising him, in language sweet, 
 For th' goodness he lias done. 
 
42 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 The sea is calm and. still, 
 
 But tlie waves moan soft and low, 
 A solemn dirge for the silent ones, 
 
 Who long have slept in th' darkness 
 below. 
 
 There's just one cloud in the far-ofl:" west, 
 That is edged with a golden gleam ; 
 
 But so light and airy 'tis, 
 
 It seems more like a fading dream. 
 
 A gallant ship is launched from shore, 
 Her white sails spreading wide. 
 
 As she swiftly moves before the breeze ; 
 Oh ! ioell may they call her " The 
 Ocean's Pride!" 
 
 The freight she carries is priceless — 
 Fond hearts that beat with joy and love, 
 
 And faces illumed by visions — 
 
 Reflections bright from the world 
 above. 
 
 ITow hands wave back a last farewell 
 
 To loved ones on the shore, 
 While hope smiles yet her sweetest smile. 
 
 Banishing the thought — " Shall we 
 meet no more ?" 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 43 
 
 But on she glides with swiftness, 
 
 Till faces, forms, and all seem like glim- 
 merings of the past ; 
 
 And the fairy cloud in the far-off sky 
 Is growing dark, and spreading fast. 
 
 Hark ! a distant rolling sound is heard, 
 Like the mighty cannon's jar. 
 
 And lightning leaps from pillars dark, 
 Shooting its fiery darts afar ! 
 
 The waves seem mad as they higher roll. 
 
 Rudely tossing the gallant ship. 
 Ah ! pale are the brows of the trembling 
 crew, 
 And frightened whispers pass from lip 
 to lip. 
 
 Another sun rose bright and fair. 
 
 Lifting from earth and sea night's 
 somber veil ; 
 
 But the waves moaned softly a recpiiem. 
 O'er forms and faces still and pale. 
 
 The sea was calm and still; 
 
 But the waves moaned, soft and low, 
 
44 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 A solemn dirge for the hram and fair 
 Whom the storm-king had anchored 
 
 helow. 
 
 "Who would have thought on last glorious 
 morn, 
 
 With omens of promises sweet, 
 That tilled each heart with joy and hope, 
 
 A fate like this they'd meet ? 
 
 There's one beacon of promise that necer 
 fades, 
 It appeared as an omen in the olden day, 
 And told to the children of Bethlehem, 
 That a King, and Savior in the mani^jer 
 lay. 
 
 He tries his chiklren in many ways, 
 Yet shows his nierc}', sweet to all ; 
 
 He smiles behind the darkest day 
 That falleth like a funeral pall. 
 
 Then, why shonkl we murmur or sigh? 
 The clouds will pass and leave ns to our 
 fate ; 
 And forever will be one glorious day, 
 When we stand on the shore by the 
 Golden Gate. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 45 
 
 EARTH'S TREASURES. 
 
 Tliey sing of pearls from out the deep, 
 
 And treasures from over the sea; 
 But the echo seems as a hollow sound — 
 
 It bears no music for me. 
 I ask not ivealth to make me blest, 
 
 Xor jewels rich and rare, 
 Nor precious stones of countless worth, 
 
 To decorate my hair. 
 
 For there are treasures far moi'e bright 
 
 Thiin Golconda's purest gems ; 
 Treasures which we 'd better own 
 
 Than heir a diadem. 
 If sweet contentment ever dwells 
 
 In bosoms full of love and truth. 
 The soul can never grow old by age, 
 
 But ever bears bright marks of youth. 
 
 Oh ! what's a form of stately mold. 
 
 Or face of beauty rare. 
 If til' heart beats not with a kindly throb, 
 
 And ■'other's sori'ows cease to share? 
 
46 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 The noblest souls must know some grief, 
 To farrow the face and bow the form. 
 
 Alas, if then all beauty died — 
 The only treasure gone ! 
 
 If friendship's golden link but binds 
 
 Hearts no earthly power can sever, 
 Oh ! who would ask a brighter gift. 
 
 To beautify the soul forever ? 
 I^ow, who be you who 'd give that 
 friend — 
 
 That steadfast friend, in weal or woe — 
 For all the gold the earth contains. 
 
 Or the wealth th' world could show? 
 
 And, Christian ones, you 'd not exchange 
 
 The soul's pure peace, I trow, 
 For the stately throne th' monarch fills, 
 
 Or the crown that decks th' queen's 
 fair brow. 
 And, mother hearts, would you give 
 
 That first sweet lisping of your name 
 By the gentle cherub on your knee, 
 
 For th' topaz's, or th' ruby's flame ? 
 
 "Ah, no!" that smile of love does say, 
 " Keep, keep your gift of gold ! 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 47 
 
 3I\j treasures are not sacli as tliej-, 
 Eut far too precious to be sold." 
 
 THE SUMMER WIND. 
 
 The summer wind breathes softly 
 
 O'er sleeping vallej^s low, 
 Snatching from their swaying stems 
 
 Flowers of the brightest glow. 
 
 Scattering them o'er the meadows, 
 Dro])ping them in the stream, 
 
 Where they glide so swiftly down the 
 tide, 
 And vanish as life's happiest dream. 
 
 Bearing sweetest fragrance 
 
 From vineclad Southern bowers, 
 
 W^here all the days are snnny, 
 
 And chilling frosts claim not the hours. 
 
 Bearing strains of music, 
 
 Sweet from a joyful heart ; 
 The deep, ricli melody gladdens my life, 
 
 And from its spell I would not part. 
 
48 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Kissing the cheek of the happy child, 
 Leaving a glow of beauty there; 
 
 Carrying afar its rippling laugh, 
 
 And playfully tossing its sunny hair. 
 
 0, balmy summer breeze ! 
 
 Whis[iering in the })ines, so mournfully 
 low, 
 I would that I could see thee, 
 
 For thou art beautiful, I know ! 
 
 But too S0071 you '11 pass away ! 
 
 When the summer days are o'er, 
 The howling winds will take j^our place, 
 
 As they've oft done before. 
 
 But carry my spirit away with thee — 
 Away to thy Southern home. 
 
 Where no wintr}^ blasts do ever blow. 
 And never, oh, never, I 'd roam. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. '49 
 
 THE HEEMIT. 
 
 He dwelt alone in an humble cot 
 
 That his hands had reared in a secluded 
 
 spot, 
 By the side of a riv^er, whose waters clear 
 Murmured the same tune from year to 
 
 year ; 
 Where tall weeds grew thick and rank — 
 Untouched by sickle — on the shady bank, 
 Where wild flowers waved in the summer 
 
 breeze. 
 Sought by none but the busy bees, 
 Or tourists, who oft would spend a day 
 In rambling or fishing, to chase care 
 
 away. 
 He dwelt all alone ; no kindred nigh, 
 If any he had. Many wondered why 
 He chose a life so drear and lone, 
 And had wandered far from his native 
 
 home, 
 If any he had ; yet they dared not inquire 
 Concerning his home — e'en his kindred 
 
 or sire. 
 
50 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 He 'cl converse quite well on the news of 
 
 the day, 
 But if asked of himself, would gaze far 
 
 away, 
 As if to recall some scene of the past. 
 And would frown, as o'er some difficult 
 
 task. 
 But not one clue by Ms lips revealed; 
 Some secret lay in his heart, well sealed. 
 And I wondered what hand held the key, 
 That securely locked his life's mystery. 
 Or was it lost in the ocean deep, 
 Beneath the waves that never sleep ? 
 Do you ask, " Was he old, and feeble, 
 
 and bent. 
 With both youth and fortune well nigh 
 
 spent — 
 Who lived on the alms that charity gave V 
 As oft she does, her credit to save. 
 He craved no alms, no favors asked he ; 
 But his mien plainly said, "just let me be, 
 ITor questions ask concerning my life — 
 What cares the world if 'tis peace or 
 
 strife ! 
 What care 1 for the world to-day? 
 From all her wiles I 've torn away, 
 And sought to dwell in quietude ; 
 
DAY-DREAMS. ' 51 
 
 If yc'd please me, let not your presence 
 
 intrude." 
 His form was neither old nor bent, 
 But care to bis face bad a seriousness 
 
 lent ; 
 His hair knew naught of winter's frost, 
 But its soft waves were by breezes tossed. 
 And I wondered if fairy hands had e'er 
 
 smoothed down 
 Those silken locks of goldeu brown ; 
 If eyes had answered love to eyes 
 That were clear and blue as summer 
 
 skies. 
 Were there hearts that missed him 
 
 around some hearth — 
 Hearts that loved and knew his worth — 
 Hearts that grieved while he wandered 
 
 far, 
 But to call him back would^ seek some 
 
 power ? 
 Did the eyes of a mother shine soft as 
 
 day, 
 And gleam with tears, in some home far 
 
 away ? 
 And who JiUed his place in life's great 
 
 field ! 
 
52 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 And what were tlie fruits his harvest 
 
 would yield ? 
 But mj queries were vain, and light as 
 
 air 
 Tliat floated away, like a sinner's prayer. 
 And I left him to dwell in his lonely 
 
 abode, 
 While I traveled on in life's dusty road. 
 But I know whate'er of ills may come to 
 
 me, 
 I neoer will seek a hermit to be. 
 
 AUTUMN LEAVES. 
 
 I gather — I gather the Autumn leaves ; 
 They lay in heaj^s like garnered sheaves; 
 Where'er my feet wander they lie thick 
 
 in my path, 
 For the north wind spake in a voice of 
 
 wrath. 
 
 The}' obeyed his injunctions, and fell to 
 
 the ground ; 
 Brightly they mantle hillside and mound ; 
 
"day-dreams. 53 
 
 They fly in the air, hke hirds of bright 
 
 plume, 
 Then fall to the earth — aye, sink to their 
 
 tomb ! 
 
 For soon the Winter snows will fall, 
 And wrap our earth in its purest pall ; 
 'Twill hide all brightness from our sight. 
 And fill our lives with the shade of 
 night. 
 
 I watclied them bud in the soft, sweet 
 
 spring. 
 When the blue-birds and robins did 
 
 sweetly sing ; 
 And I loved so well each joyful lay, 
 Yet I dreamed not that spiingtime would 
 
 pass away. 
 
 Where'er my feet Avandered new beauties 
 sprung, 
 
 And bountifully— freely— Kature's trib- 
 utes were flung; 
 
 But, ah! they have faded— springtime's 
 buds and flowers — 
 
 They passed away with the fleeting hours. 
 
54 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 But memories sweet they left to tell 
 
 Of beauties sweet that dwelt in woodland 
 
 and dell. 
 I miss their light in my rambles to-day; 
 I miss the smile that has faded away. 
 
 But, oh ! I love the Autumn leaves, 
 Yet they 're fading — they 're fading — and 
 
 my spirit grieves ; 
 And I gather them up from vallev and 
 
 bill- 
 When the snow falls, tliese will be beauti- 
 ful still. 
 
 THE SLAI^ SOLDIER. 
 
 From the bloody Held they bore him, 
 And they laid him down to die, 
 
 All alone in a stranger's land, 
 Beneath a sunny kSouthern sky. 
 
 Ko kindly hands were there 
 To smooth his dying pillow ; 
 
 Alone be passed from earth away, 
 
 Alone he crossed death's darksome bil- 
 low. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 55 
 
 Afar oft', in a ISTortherii home, 
 
 Kind hearts were waiting day by day, 
 For their dear and only k)ved one, 
 
 Wliom the drams had called away. 
 
 Called to fight for freedom's cause ! 
 
 Called to fight for country dear ! 
 Called away from home and kindred. 
 
 To a bloody field most drear. 
 
 Yet he went with brow so radiant — 
 A lieart so full of trust in God ; 
 
 A heart all brave and true — 
 True to his own dear native sod. 
 
 But, ah ! that niothcr's yearning and anx- 
 ious look. 
 As she sat by the casement from day 
 till day. 
 Looking and waiting for his return. 
 And never ceasing for him to pray. 
 
 " Yes, he will come, I know full well ; 
 
 He said : ' Sweet mother, meet me 
 adown by the gate, 
 As you used to, mother dear. 
 
 When from the hearth I lingered late.' " 
 
56 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 And she had gone, for many eves, 
 When heaven's dews were falling ; 
 
 And all the passers-bj' that way 
 
 Could hear her for her loved one call- 
 ing. 
 
 Until that gentle bine-eyed one 
 Who knew a sister's love — a sister's 
 grief — 
 
 Would kindly soothe her anguished soul, 
 E'en when her own knew no relief. 
 
 There are many green monnds in that 
 sunny land, 
 That were rudely marked " Unknown ;" 
 But sad are the hearts that wait to-day 
 For the soldier boj's that ne'er came 
 home. 
 
 EEADIXG. 
 
 Often do we hear the complaint, and 
 have to submit to the criticism, that we, 
 as a people, devote too small a portion of 
 our time to reading. 
 
 I, for one, am ready to stand in defense 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 57 
 
 against the charge. America is full of 
 literature, of foreign, as well as home au- 
 thors. And what other soil can hoast of 
 more book-worms than she? The mid- 
 night oil burns low, not only in the li- 
 brary of the scholar, but so also on the 
 desk in the counting-rooms of our clerks, 
 whose time is so precious, and thirst for 
 knowledge so great, that it keeps active 
 the brain, and banishes all weariness or 
 thought of slumber. 
 
 Then what is the fault ? Why is it we 
 are found to be ignorant upon subjects of 
 so much moment? Subjects of which 
 we should have a thorough knowledge, 
 but upon which we are each day being 
 picked to pieces, as it were, and found 
 hollow. 
 
 The trouble lies not in the neglect of 
 reading, but in the how and the what we 
 read. First, I will take the how, and pen 
 the answer immediately after. Carelessly. 
 Reading, like each other employment, 
 should be done with care, if we expect 
 to be benefited thereby. 
 
 Too many read for the pleasure it af- 
 fords at the time being, without a thought 
 
58 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 of retaining anything for future pleasure 
 or profit; but the animation will soon 
 pass awaj, and the time emploj'ed is 
 the same as lost. Why is it that tlie 
 fairy tales we read in childhood are still 
 so vivid in our memory, while later-day 
 reading we tvy in vain to establisli and 
 retain? 
 
 Only reflect for a moment, and the 
 cause will stand out plain before you. 
 
 How did we read then ? And was it 
 wdien the mind was harassed by a score 
 of other topics, and had not room for the 
 acceptance of more ? No ! Our childish 
 interest was all in the volume before us. 
 We drank in each word — though we often 
 stopped to spell out some of the harder 
 ones — and they sank down — down deeply 
 — and are safe to-day as when the in- 
 spiration was upon us. 
 
 There are times when the mind is in 
 no fit condition, and has no inclination to 
 retain anything. Let us not then strive 
 to force upon it ideas it will not accept, 
 or, if accepted with reluctance, will soon 
 have flown into realms unknown, and 
 
DAY-DKEAMS. 59 
 
 leave behind only a few faint glimmer- 
 ings. 
 
 But the what is of as much, if not 
 more, importance than the how. 
 
 Let a careful observer look over some 
 of our home libraries, and he will proba- 
 bly brand half the reading-matter worth- 
 less. 
 
 Parents should select with great care 
 the literature which they place before 
 their children. What they read has as 
 much to do with their after-life and la- 
 bors as do the friends with whom they 
 each day associate. 
 
 The mind of the young is like an hun- 
 gered appetite, and must have food to 
 satisfy its longings. If there be no 
 healthful nourishment in proximity, it 
 will readily absorb that which will e'er 
 long prove to be poisonous. 
 
 The mind of childhood is the tenderest, 
 holiest thing this side of heaven. Yet 
 the tender reed is easily bended — aye, 
 broken ! Then, ye parents, watch well 
 thy precious charge, lest something un- 
 holy or impure may leave an everlasting 
 impression to mar all its natural beauty. 
 
60 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 A child may be bronglit up in almost 
 perfect seclusion, but, if he has had access 
 to good reading-matter, is prepared to 
 enter society, and it is surprising how 
 natural and composed he seems. By 
 reading, he has become familiar with the 
 ways and customs of the world, and they 
 seem not at all new to him. 
 
 Our reading should be varied. We 
 should not study English authors to the 
 utter neglect of American writers. 
 Neither should Ave devote all our time to 
 historical or political matters, and take 
 no notice of romance or poetry. He 
 must be, indeed, a matter-of-fact individ- 
 ual, who takes no delight in a story beau- 
 tifully illustrated — though some of the 
 finest features may be drawn by the hand 
 of fiction, or beautifully gilded by the 
 dreamer's pencil. 
 
 Nothing more plainly illustrates our 
 dependence upon each otlier, than our 
 love for each other's language. In books 
 we learn new ideas of which we have 
 never thought; and yet they seem to be 
 just what we have been longing for and 
 searching after. The more knowledge 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 61 
 
 we gain, the more wc long to possess. 
 One new idea opens the Avaj into a broad 
 tield, through which many more are in- 
 vited to enter. And yet the space never 
 becomes filled. But if we keep care and 
 discretion as sentinels at the entrance, we 
 will become more interesting to our 
 friends, better adapted to society, and 
 better Christians. 
 
 MY JOURNEY. 
 
 I walk where shadows linger 
 
 Like phantoms newly born, 
 The which my eager eyes pursue, 
 
 As they're chased by the gleams of 
 morn 
 That hasten o'er the Eastern hills 
 
 With a sure and quickened pace, 
 Shod in golden sandals, 
 
 And with a clear, unclouded face. 
 
 I Avalk where sunshine glimmers 
 Like golden gleams sent down, 
 
 As showers of gladness scattered wide, 
 To banish every frown. 
 
62 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 I walk where fairest blossoms smile, 
 And breathe a fragrant breath; 
 
 "Where rosebuds open wide their eyes, 
 Nor speak of chill or death. 
 
 "Where grasses wave, and mosses grow ; 
 
 Where babbling streams run by. 
 Dancing, gleaming, merrily singing, 
 
 Nor stopping ever to utter a sigh. 
 Where Summer sheds her welcome light, 
 
 Bountifully, freely over all, 
 Nor dreams of blight or cruel frost. 
 
 That waits beyond the wall — 
 
 Which stands so grim and stately. 
 
 Hiding what's on the other side; 
 But leaving, for my eyes to scan. 
 
 Fields and meadows spread out wide. 
 The day is fair, need I dream of the mor- 
 row, 
 
 Or the mysteries hidden 'neath her veil ? 
 She may bear for me rich, bright gifts, 
 
 Or e'en a sigh— a wail. 
 
 But I'll drink a draught from the crystal 
 cup 
 I carry to-day in my hand, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 63 
 
 Though the chilling breath of the eoming 
 day 
 May scatter it in fragments on th' sand. 
 
 I walk mid a noisy, bustling throng, 
 
 That hurry and jostle, the while 
 My eyes take in the many tales, 
 
 Told by faces, frowns, or smiles, 
 Of many burdened and happy lives; 
 
 Though no further can I go 
 Into the volume tightly sealed. 
 
 Its contents ne'er for me to know. 
 
 I wander through dark alleys, 
 
 So narrow, lone, and dim, 
 Where homes are only hovels, 
 
 Opened wide to vice and sin. 
 I hurry onward, onward fast, 
 
 And close my ear to the cry 
 Of rude and awful revelry 
 
 That greets as I pass by. 
 
 I hurry onward, onward fast, 
 
 Till I reach a broad and dusty road ; 
 
 My feet seem weary now, and lag. 
 And I'm conscious of a heavy load 
 
 That I 've borne quite long, not knowing, 
 Until I 've weary grown ; 
 
64 DA -DREAMS. 
 
 'T is sheaves I 've gathered unawares 
 From seeds my hands have sown. 
 
 But onward, still, tliough th' way be 
 rough, 
 And the hills I climb are craggy and 
 steep. 
 And the manj^ thorns by the wayside 
 growing 
 Leave painful wounds, and deep. 
 Onward still with the mighty throng. 
 
 That pauses not on the way. 
 For the journey must be completed. 
 Ere night shuts out the day. 
 
 The road divides into many paths; 
 
 Some lead to the left, and some to the 
 right, 
 And I wonder long whicli one to take. 
 
 For each seems dark, yet bright. 
 I stand as lost in a gathering mist. 
 
 That falls o'er woodland and neighbor- 
 ing hill ; 
 And I reach my hand for that guiding 
 power. 
 That can save by its own great will. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 65 
 
 BEYOND THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Beyond the clouds is the Beautiful City, 
 
 The city of fadeless light; 
 There, the sun with hrightness forever 
 shines, 
 
 And there cometh no darksome nio-ht. 
 
 Beyond the clouds dwell heautiful angels, 
 
 ."With crowns of shining stars; 
 And all is happiness and peace, 
 In that land so far from ours. 
 
 Beyond the clouds our friends are waiting 
 To welcome their loved ones home. 
 
 As they sing their joyful praises 
 Around the heavenly throne. 
 
 Beyond the clouds, the Savior dwells 
 
 And he hids us "hasten on." 
 We're traveling to that world of light 
 
 Soon will come the glorious dawn. 
 
66 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 THE BEAYE. 
 
 I love the brave, the daring brave, 
 Who fight with will the right to save; 
 Who buckle on the armor bright, 
 And stand, not trembling, in the fight. 
 
 I love the brave who live to-day ; 
 I love the brave that have passed away, 
 I love to think of the noble work 
 Done by hands not known to shirk. 
 
 I love the brave, the silent brave; 
 I proudly stand beside their graves, 
 And drop a tear, while my heart beats fast 
 In love for them, though their day is 
 past. 
 
 I'll plant bright flowers wherever they 
 
 lay. 
 O, would that they 'd bloom till " the last 
 
 great day," 
 And shine as emblems o'er their dust — 
 Emblems of deeds all noble and just. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 67 
 
 There are brave ones now in rude dis- 
 guise, 
 
 "Who hide the dew that woukl dim their 
 eyes ; 
 
 And smile to cheer the burdened life 
 
 Of a mortal known to toil and strife. 
 
 I love the brave, the daring brave, 
 
 Who labor noio the right to save ; 
 
 With brows unlaureled though they 
 
 stand, 
 They are the truest, noblest band. 
 
 THE STOEIES I HEARD BY THE 
 RIYEKSIDE. 
 
 A maiden stood by the river's side. 
 
 For she loved the murmuring waters 
 clenr, 
 Loved to watch them dance and gleam, 
 
 And leap o'er falls without a fear. 
 Loved to muse on the pebbly shore. 
 
 And gather sliells from the sand; 
 Shells that the tide had gathered up, 
 
 And widely strewn with a bountiful 
 hand. 
 
68 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Loved to pluck the lilies fair, 
 
 Which grew near the water's brink, 
 And smiled at their own reliection. 
 
 As thej stooped o'er the mossy bank 
 to drink. 
 She stood where breezes fanned her check, 
 
 That glowed with the warmth of youth ; 
 And lier hair, in ringlets wikly tossed, 
 
 Seemed like golden threads, in truth. 
 
 Her eyes gleamed bright, as she softly 
 trilled 
 
 A love-song low and strangely sweet, 
 Dreaming the while of her hero brave, 
 
 As the hour sped on golden wings so 
 fleet. 
 I asked: " 0, maiden, tell me now, 
 
 What says the river's voice to thee? — 
 That you hie so oft to its shady banks. 
 
 With a spirit glad and free ? " 
 
 " The river's voice for my soul has charms, 
 For it speak in a language none else 
 knows, 
 
 And enchants my life wnth a tale it tells. 
 While onward still it flows. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 69 
 
 It tells of life with pleasant paths, 
 
 Where flowers bloom through all the 
 day, 
 
 And never frost does come to blight, 
 ISTor Winter their beauty to steal away. 
 
 It tells of sunny azure skies, 
 
 Where no cloud comes up from east or 
 w^est, 
 But the sun goes down in glory, 
 
 Leaving the hills in a bright garment 
 dressed. 
 It bids " Look out o'er the ocean wide. 
 Where a brave ship plows the foam." 
 I anxiously gaze till the eve comes on. 
 For that ship now brings my lover 
 home. 
 
 His manly form on the deck I see. 
 
 For I know he watches day and night. 
 And his ^^ Maud" shall be the first he 
 greets, 
 When that brave old ship heaves into 
 sight. 
 The bridal robes are waiting. 
 Anxious hearts are waiting, too. 
 
70 . DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 .But 't is sweet to watch and wait, 
 
 For hearts that time has proven true. 
 
 *^ jjC i^^ ^f' 'i^ ^ 
 
 I went again to the river's side, 
 
 After golden Summers had flown away, 
 And th' years in their round had brought 
 to me 
 Many glad morns — many a sad noon- 
 day. 
 I saw a woman on the shore, 
 
 Her form was clad in a somber dress ; 
 She vacantly gazed o'er the waters bright, 
 "While her hand was raised, and to her 
 pale brow pressed. 
 
 The breezes played in her beautiful hair; 
 
 Where silver threads in the sunlight 
 gleamed ; 
 And the far-ofi" look in her anxious face 
 
 Plainly told that her spirit dreamed. 
 I asked, "O, woman, tell me now. 
 
 What says the river's voice to thee f — 
 While the waters dance in the fair sun- 
 light. 
 
 Then bound away so glad and free ? " 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 71 
 
 "The river's voice my soul makes sad, 
 
 For it awakens dreams of the past. 
 Hark! hear ye not that roaring sound? — 
 
 'T is the fury of the coming blast! 
 Black clouds gather in the West; 
 
 See ! see! they rise still higher now." 
 And her dark e^'es shone with a fiery light, 
 
 While both hands clasped her brow. 
 
 "Oh ! the ocean is mad, and the waves roll 
 high. 
 And the ship, I know will be lost; 
 For the masts break down 'neath the 
 storm-kings touch, 
 And only a hull by his breath is tossed. 
 And my lover on board that very ship 1 
 See ! see! she sinks 'neath the main — 
 And my hero so brave with his manly 
 heart 
 Goes down to ne'er rise again ! 
 
 "Oh cold are the billows that cover him 
 o'er. 
 
 While he sleeps in a watery grave; 
 Oh ! a^uel the power that slew his youth, 
 
 While no hand was there to save." 
 
72 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Now faded are the blossoms 
 
 That were to deck his bride, 
 For the day came, and the guests came, 
 
 But listless she stood, with no lover by 
 lier side. 
 Oh ! sad is the river's voice to-day, 
 
 As its waters hurry on to the sea; 
 And I would that its mnrmur might carry 
 away, 
 
 The spell which memory casts on me. 
 
 SUMAIER SHOWERS. 
 
 The leafy boughs are bending. 
 The flowers droop their headi^ 
 
 And some of the leaflets tremble and fall? 
 Down low on their grassy beds. 
 
 The great king of day is hiding his face 
 
 Behind a darksome veil. 
 And his bright glad smile, that has shone 
 since morn, 
 
 Is fast growing dim and pale. 
 
 The day is dark, the clouds hang low, 
 No blue sky can I see ; 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 73 
 
 M}^ heart is sad, I'm ill at ease, 
 And weary as I can be. 
 
 I hear the rolling thunder's voice, 
 
 As it sounds afar in the Western sky; 
 
 And tlie air grows close and dense — 
 The while the clouds go hurrying by. 
 
 But now-, oh, falls the pure, pure rain — 
 Blest gift from a hand Divine. 
 
 Sent to cheer the drooj^ing flow^ers 
 That in each pathw^ay shine. 
 
 Coaxing the rosebuds to unfold their 
 leaves, 
 
 And blush in the ftiir June light, 
 Till childish hands shall pluck them, 
 
 To weave into garlands bright. 
 
 They cool the weary pilgrim's brow. 
 As he plods on the dusty road. 
 
 With a faith that show\s the way is sure, 
 And lightens his burdensome load. 
 
 I sit and luatch the clear cool drops. 
 
 As they tick against my window-pane; 
 
 And I'm always soi-ry when they cease, 
 For I love the music of the rain. 
 
74 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 But as I speak the clouds break way, 
 And the rain drops cease to fall; 
 
 The glorious sun, shines out again, 
 And a change has come o'er all. 
 
 The crj'stal drops on the rose's breast, 
 
 Seem as diamonds glittering bright; 
 And the ferns and mosses are decked in 
 pearls. 
 That gleam and sparkle in the sun's fair 
 light. 
 
 The robins sing in the tree tops, — 
 
 It seems the sweetest song 
 Of all the merry minstrels 
 
 That to th' woodland choir belong. 
 
 Now I feel that the burden is lifted 
 That weigh'd on my soul for an hour. 
 
 For I've felt God's love, and I've seen 
 His smile, 
 As I watched the summer shower. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 75 
 
 JDEWDROPS. 
 
 Beautiful devvdrops, diamond briglit! 
 Did a fairy drop you in his hasty flight? 
 And did he grieve? Now do you know? 
 Crystal dewdrops, purer than snow ! 
 
 Beautiful dewdrops, diamond bright ! 
 Did you light the fairies through th' 
 
 darkness of night? 
 Or shine as a gem on some elfin brow ? 
 Beautiful dewdrops, tell me now. 
 
 Beautiful dewdrops, diamond bright ! 
 'No lovelier vision could greet the sight, 
 Than the flowers bedecked in your glis- 
 tening gems, 
 As they sway upon their fragile stems. 
 
 You kiss the brow of the lily fair. 
 And leave your beauty imprinted there; 
 You rest in the heart of the fragrant rose. 
 And on its breast sink to repose. 
 
 Beautiful dewdrops, diamond bright ! 
 Morning gems, born of the night ! 
 
76 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Soon the sunshine will drink you np, 
 And drain to naught your crystal cup. 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 Sweetflowers ! bright, beautiful flowers I 
 sent to gladden each pathway with their 
 cheering presence. Springing up in dark- 
 some spots, showing that no place is so 
 desolate, but that some beauty lingers 
 around. Showing that no place is so se- 
 cluded, but that the e^'e of One sees, and 
 his bountiful goodness is not withheld 
 therefrom. 
 
 Go not into conservatories, where rare 
 plants rear their prond heads, and gor- 
 geous flowers, brought from foreign coun- 
 tries, and carefully tended, bud and bloom 
 to scatter their fragrance only so far as 
 ivalls will allow. But go fortb into open 
 fields, and be greeted by the brightness 
 that invites you. Not rare blossoms, but 
 simple wild flowers, nod and smile, scat- 
 tering their perfume far and near. They 
 are as jewels strewn by the wayside. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 77 
 
 "When the weaiy traveler stops to rest 
 and refresli himself in the shade of some 
 friendly tree, the}" speak to him words of 
 cheer; and 'tis with a lighter heart he re- 
 sumes his journey. They beautify our 
 earth, making it appear as a bright garden. 
 "What would earth be without flowers? 
 'T would be as a heart devoid of love or 
 sympathy. A barren waste. When the 
 frost robs us of the lily, the rose, and the 
 smiles of all their companions, 'tis then 
 we realize their worth, and look forward 
 with anxious hearts, till Spring shall again 
 call them to open their eyes and make 
 glad the heart of man. "We find them by 
 the sick bed, where loving hands place 
 them, that they may shed their cheering 
 influence over the meek sufierer, whose 
 now powerless hands will ere long gather 
 fadeless blossoms. And in the silent 
 churchyard, where they shine as love's 
 last oflering. 
 
 " Tell me, oh tell me, lovely flowers, 
 
 "Why do ye bloom so fair?" 
 "To lighten, my love, the dreary hours, 
 
 And sweeten the cup of care." 
 
78 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 " But why do je fade, oh, gentle flowers ? ' 
 "By cold winds cruelly slain, 
 
 That we may spring, in brighter hours, 
 And blossom and smile again. 
 
 '' So thou in thy youth, ray gentle child, 
 
 Will spring up in golden bloom, 
 But soon will the storm or the tempest 
 wild 
 
 Smite thee down to the dreary tomb; 
 But thou shalt arise in beaut}' fair — 
 
 To a happier clime make wing — 
 And blossom in heaven's eternal air. 
 
 Like flowers in a brighter Spring? " 
 
 SUNSHINE. 
 
 Bright and beautiful sunshine. 
 
 How you cheer my drooping heart! 
 
 I can not be sad in your presence, 
 For you bid each fear depart. 
 
 Just like sweet sister Hope, 
 
 You come where I need you most; 
 
 A welcome guest you'll always be. 
 And I'll try to be a cheerful host. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 79 
 
 I believe you know when ray heart is sad, 
 And life seems dark and drear: 
 
 For then it is you steal gently in, 
 
 With your bright and gladsome cheer. 
 
 A friend you are to the friendless. 
 
 The lowly, ami the poor. 
 Brightly you scatter your golden beams, 
 
 And freely they enter the humble door. 
 
 The children love 3'our bright presence, 
 And they welcome yon in the spring; 
 
 For you wliisper to the flowers, 
 
 And bid the birds to " come and sino-." 
 
 The innocent babe, ou its mother's knee. 
 Joyfully catches your brightest beams, 
 
 Thinking 'tis the angel's smile 
 It saw in its peaceful dreams. 
 
80 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 LIFE'S JOYS. 
 
 There's a beauty iu life, exquisite and 
 
 grand, 
 'Tis the fairest picture from a Master 
 
 hand ; 
 With the brightest tints from a pencil of 
 
 gold, 
 And silver shades, — nor grow dim nor 
 
 old. 
 
 'Tis like a vision, transient and sweet, 
 That hurriedly speeds on Time's nimble 
 
 feet ; 
 The day begins — then hastens away 
 Gives place to calm eve, but short is her 
 
 stay. 
 
 I love to watch the lingering beams, 
 Which o'er the hills in beautj^ gleam; 
 As amber cloads pile high in the West, 
 Clothing the sky iu a golden vest. 
 
 A reflection bright, from beauties untold — • 
 The city with streets of jasper, and gold : 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 81 
 
 Where the Eiver of Lite flows on forever, 
 Its tireless music, ceasing never. 
 
 Or in the peaceful star-gemmed night, 
 Whose arch is ever polished bright, 
 'T is sweet to gaze on beauties afar, 
 And dream of joys fadeless as the bright- 
 est star. 
 
 I see fair faces with a rosy bloom, 
 That smile away each rising gloom. 
 And others o'ercast by the veil of care, 
 Yet so beautitul, I see not the furrows 
 there. 
 
 I walk in sunshine's golden shower, 
 And bask 'ueath Summer's vine-clad 
 
 bower ; 
 0, I love the transient beauty well, 
 It charms my life with its mystic spell. 
 
 But the golden hours, with radiant wings, 
 
 are swiftly, swiftly flj'ing ; 
 And earth's childrtn, ne'er content, are 
 
 ever, ever sighing 
 For some pleasure not possessed. 
 And new joys to calm the breast. 
 
82 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 O ! but to queueli that restless strife, 
 Which e'er embitters the cup of life ! 
 Oh! to quencli that ceaseless yearning, 
 Ever in the botsom burning. 
 
 They say wlien we reach the " Golden 
 Shore;' 
 
 We'll drink deep bliss ne'er known be- 
 fore, 
 
 From a cup whose brim is polished and 
 new, 
 
 And sweet with the nectar of heavenly 
 dew. 
 
 THE SNOW. 
 
 The snow, the beautiful snow ! 
 It lies in my path wherever I go ; 
 All earth is chid in purity now. 
 From the valleys low to the mountain's 
 brow. 
 
 I watch the busy, careless throng. 
 As they heedless plod along — 
 Heedless where their footsteps go, 
 But leaving marks in the pure w^hite 
 snow. 
 
DAY-DKEAMS. 83 
 
 iN'ow, there comes a childish form, 
 A face of brightest sunshine born, 
 That sweetly smiles as it bows low, 
 Trying to count the tracks in the snow. 
 
 Ah, happy one, that trial is vain, 
 
 As well could you count the dn)ps of 
 
 rain. 
 That fall from summer's darkest cloud, 
 When tlie thunders speak so loud. 
 
 But may yo^ii^ foot-marks ever be 
 Where honor and duty calleth thee; 
 And may j'our young feet ever know 
 Only })aths as pure as the virgin snow. 
 
 I^ow comes manhood's stately form, 
 Heeding not the wintry storm ; 
 Heeding not the flakes that fly 
 From the bleak and dreary sky; 
 
 Fly, on airy wings of light. 
 Clothing earth in spotless wliite. 
 Where his hasty footsteps go. 
 Treading careless on the snow. 
 
 May thy deeds be ever just, 
 And thy heart all free from lust ; 
 
8-1: DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 May that strong arm raise with might 
 To defend the cause of right. 
 
 May thy brow Avith honor sliiiie, 
 E'en when furrowed by old Time — 
 When thy cheek has lost its glow, 
 And thy hairs are white as snow. 
 
 See, that bowed one standing there. 
 With the wearj-, vacant stare, 
 Holding out his shriveled hand, 
 Begging in a plenteous land ! 
 
 Shivering, as the winds goby. 
 Almost blinding his long dim eye. 
 Did some one love him in the long-ago ? — 
 That old man begging out in the snow. 
 
 I ask myself as I look at him. 
 
 With garments tattered, and worn so 
 
 thin— 
 A sorry shield for his feeble form, 
 As be stands their trembling in the 
 
 storm. 
 
 Yes, a mother loved him, sure. 
 When an infant guiltless and pure; 
 
DAY-PREAMS. 85 
 
 But (lid slie dream that begging lie 'd go • 
 All, "t is well that she sleeps beneath the 
 snow ! 
 
 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 
 
 Well, I've been to meetin,'in the big 
 
 chnreli on the hill ; 
 'T is many a day since to meetin' I've 
 
 been, thongh I try to do the Master's 
 
 will. 
 But you see old age fell as a cruel blight, 
 And injured my hearin', my -svalkin', and 
 
 sight. 
 
 So, when the old bell rang, to homel must 
 
 stay, 
 And kneel all alone, and alone I must 
 
 pray. 
 But so sadly I missed each dear old song, 
 Which rang in my ears the whole week 
 
 long. 
 
 And the kindly words of our minister 
 
 dear — 
 Did ye ever hear them ? AVhy, they 'd fill 
 
 your soul with a lifelong cheer! 
 
86 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 He spoke sweet words of our liome over 
 
 there, 
 And the happy meetiu' when we'd done 
 
 with earthly care. 
 
 He invited his people to Christ's blessed 
 
 fold, 
 And no sinner Avas left alone in the 
 
 cold ; 
 He'd draw them right up b}^ the power 
 
 of love, 
 And show them the path that would 
 
 lead them above. 
 
 But that was years and years agone; 
 Hushed forever is each dear old song, 
 There's more white stones in the yard 
 
 near by. 
 Where rest the weary that have ceased 
 
 to sigh ; 
 The minister and deacon both sleep 'neath 
 
 the sod. 
 Their dust — their spirits — are happy with 
 
 God. 
 
 The old brown church, that for years had 
 
 stood, 
 And proved to be both useful and good, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 87 
 
 Why, it was blown down by a storm, one 
 
 night, 
 It gave the villao^ers an awfnl fright. 
 
 Some mourned its loss as a dear good 
 
 friend. 
 While others declared 'twas, "ablest God 
 
 send;" 
 / on]y said, " Thy will be done," 
 I marvel at nothing under the sun. 
 
 They erected a new one in the same old 
 
 spot — " 
 My dear good John helped buy that lot; 
 But now 'neatli its sod lie peacefully rests, 
 I know he'd have liked tiie old churcli 
 
 best. 
 
 But, as I said, I've been to meetin,' in the 
 
 big church on the hill ; 
 'Tis many a day since to meetin' I've 
 
 been, though I trv to do the Master's 
 
 will ; 
 But, you see, old age fell as a cruel blight, 
 And injured my hearin',my walkin', and 
 
 siorht. 
 
50 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Sit down, now, beside- me, and I'll tell 
 
 you how it came. 
 The morn was bright, the birds sang sweet, 
 
 and somehow I felt not so lame, 
 And my eyes they seemed more open, 
 
 which so long had been so dim ; 
 And I thought, how sweet 'twould be, to 
 
 liear a good old fashioned hymn. 
 
 So I laid out my new pongee, I'd not 
 
 worn for twenty years. 
 But it brouglit a sadness to my breast, and 
 
 caused my eyes to fill with tears: 
 For when I wore it last, I walked to 
 
 church by dear John's side. 
 And happy was I tlien as the day I 'came 
 
 his bride. 
 
 My hymn-book had grown dim by layin' 
 on the shelf, 
 
 Though to me 'twas dearer far than all 
 eartlily wealth ; 
 
 My girlhood name was written, plain as 
 well stamped brand, 
 
 Jist on the first white page, by my de- 
 parted husband's hand. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 80 
 
 As my tottcrin' feet drew near the great 
 
 empaneled door, 
 My feeble e^'es were dazzled by new 
 
 sights not seen before. 
 Why, do n't you think the steeple towered 
 
 nigh nnto the sky ! 
 And I wondered how the bell was heard, 
 
 when hanging up so high. 
 
 Oh! there's room for mnch religion in a 
 
 bnildin' so grand and new, 
 I said nnto myself, as near the steps I 
 
 d rew ; 
 Then I entered through its portals, and 
 
 started up the aisle, 
 Thinkin' how different from the old one — ■ 
 
 thinkin' all the while. 
 
 I went right up in front, where my pew 
 
 had always been, 
 But anotlier tilled my place and refused 
 
 to let me in ; 
 But the sexton came up kindly, and took 
 
 me by the arm, 
 He led me farther back, as though afraid 
 
 I 'd do them all some harm. 
 
90 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Eut then I thought, 'tis right, I'm a 
 
 stranger in this phice, 
 And, though alone I sit, I '11 share with 
 
 them God's grace; 
 So I opened then my In'mn-book, and 
 
 thought I'd raise my voice. 
 In a good old-fashioned tune, that would 
 
 make my soul rejoice. 
 
 " O for a thousand tongues to sing my 
 
 great reileenier's praise," 
 Was the song I turned to Jii'st, and there 
 
 my voice I raised, 
 Which was no longer feeble, but rang ont 
 
 louder, higher, 
 When the minister arose and said, " We'll 
 
 have music by the choir." 
 
 Well sich music as it was! it roused no 
 
 happy feelin', 
 And it seemed their many voices rose no 
 
 higher than the ceilin' ! 
 All my peace of mind and soul seemed to 
 
 go out with that song. 
 And I wondered has God entered into 
 
 this mighty throng? 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 91 
 
 The sermon it was short, and half I did n't 
 hear, 
 
 For a sadness tilled mj heart, and a deaf- 
 ness filled my ear; 
 
 Then they all stood up to pray, but down 
 J humbly knelt — 
 
 Not too proud to bow to Him, though a 
 lone one there I felt. 
 
 Yes, I 've been to meetin', in the big 
 
 church on the hill, 
 'T will be many a day till to meetin' I go, 
 
 though I'll try to do the Master's will. 
 
 FACES. 
 
 "How fast the flitting figures come! 
 The mild, the fierce, the stony face, 
 Some filled with thoughtless smiles, and some 
 Where secret tears have left their trace." 
 
 How many different types of human 
 faces we see in our sojourn through this 
 busy, bustling world of ours. It is a rare 
 occurrence, if we ever see two visages ex- 
 actly alike in outline or expression. We 
 may meet with one whose face reminds 
 
92 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 US of another we have seen, so much that 
 we may deem the resemblance ahiiost 
 perfect; but when we come to see those 
 same faces under the same light, behold 
 what a vast difierence we can then dis- 
 cern. 
 
 How- true that " the face is the index 
 to the souL" It tells of the heart's long- 
 ings, its hates, and its loves. 
 
 Try, as we may, to veil an evil deed or 
 thought by smiles, that tell-tale some- 
 thing depicted upon the countenance 
 plainly speaks of the hypocrisy, and 
 brands that smile deceptions. 
 
 "What though the apparel may not be 
 of the latest cut, and is dinged and 
 dimmed by age. The hat may not be 
 the last out, and the carriage may not be 
 the most elegant. I take no notice, but 
 peer into the countenance, to see what it 
 will tell me; and I always find it a true 
 recommendation of good, or denounce- 
 ment of evil. 
 
 Every day we are saddened by gloomy, 
 sin-hardened faces, that tell of so many 
 stony and depraved natures. 
 
 There is the bold, staring face, that de- 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 93 
 
 maiids our attention, whether we would 
 or not. Deliver ns from such ! 
 
 And the smiling, insidious face, that is 
 ever endeavoring to make new friends, 
 but does not long retain them. 
 
 IIow different is the sweet face, full of 
 confidence, sunshine, and happiness ! A 
 reflection of a pure, loving heart, unsul- 
 lied by evil. 
 
 Then there is the silly, simpering face, 
 tliat speaks of a vain, empty life. It 
 bears the same contrast to the firm face 
 of scholarly mold. 
 
 Sometimes we meet with a kind, firm, 
 sympathetic face, that gains our admira- 
 tion from the first. "When we are happy, 
 it tenders us a smile ; when sorrow^ is our 
 portion, we know of its sympathy by the 
 expression of sadness that settles over its 
 beautiful features. Yes, always beautiful ; 
 no matter of what type — classic or other- 
 wise. And that same face can assume a 
 firm and decided a[)pearance, which 
 seems almost stem, when in defense of a 
 good and honorable cause. Happy is he 
 who is so favored as to live under the in- 
 fiuence of such a countenance. 
 
94 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 We can think of many faces that are 
 dear to us — yes, and beautiful — which 
 perhaps bear no charms to others. Some 
 are ros}', childish faces, and others have 
 long since lost all their fresiuiess and 
 bloom, but no less dear for the- furrows 
 that have settled thereon. 
 
 AUTUMX MUSINGS. 
 
 The sweet Summer roses have faded from 
 
 view ; 
 And all the bright blossoms that in my 
 
 path grew. 
 0, where have they gone with their 
 
 beauty and light? 
 Ask of the frost-king who kissed them 
 
 at night. 
 He encircled their brows witli glittering 
 
 gems, 
 But, alas, at the morn-time they drooped 
 
 on their stems ! 
 A calmness now reigns through wood 
 
 and through vale. 
 
DAY-DKEAMS. 95 
 
 But Summer-time beauties have all grown 
 
 pale. 
 The bleak winds of Autumn now morn- 
 
 fully sigh, 
 Like a wandering spirit that passes me 
 
 by; 
 
 And fans my brow with wings unseen, 
 Hidden from siglit by a mystical screen. 
 I grieved as the last low- whisper of tlie 
 
 gentle Summer breeze 
 Murmured its softest melody, and de- 
 parted througli th' ti-ees. 
 Then a voice I heard tliat was sadder far 
 Than one that had charmed with its 
 
 sweetest power. 
 The Autumn leaves fall trembling down, 
 Some crimson-tinged, some amber and 
 
 brown ; 
 They clothe the eartli in her last rich 
 
 garb, 
 And she 's courted and loved by the 
 
 dreaming hard. 
 Each leaf that falls at my feet to-day, 
 Seems an image of loved ones far away ; 
 And a gentle whisper in each rustle I 
 
 hear, 
 
96 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 For friends of my cliildhood ever seem 
 
 near. 
 I '11 gather the treasures of crimson and 
 
 brown, 
 I '11 weave me a garland and fashion a 
 
 crown, 
 For they call memories sweet, to tell of 
 
 the time 
 Whea life's song was as joyful as the 
 
 bell's merry chime. 
 But hushed is the music of each silver 
 
 note. 
 Yet echoes still beautifully 'roufid mem- 
 ory iioat ; 
 The fields are sear, and the hills are 
 
 brown. 
 But tlie bright Autumn leaves come trem- 
 bling down. 
 October's blest tribute she yearly pays, 
 When Summer has vanished with her 
 
 golden days — 
 When the harp-strings of iTature have 
 
 lost their rich tune, 
 And the birds seek a home as sunny as 
 
 June. 
 'Tis a time when the soul will sadden 
 
 and pine 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 97 
 
 For something more perfect than fruits 
 
 of this clime — 
 For joys that will fade not, for charms 
 
 that will last, 
 For music that's lost not in sounds of 
 
 tierce blast. 
 In the home o'er the " River," beyond 
 
 the bright wall, 
 Is Summer forever where the leaves never 
 
 fall. 
 
 EVENINa. 
 
 'T is evening's hour, and all is still ; 
 
 The birds to their nests have flown ; 
 And I think the moon, since yester' night. 
 
 Has in brightness and beauty grown. 
 
 She is mounting now the azure sky, 
 And earth is made lovely by her smile; 
 
 She proudly sits as a new-crowned queen. 
 And gently floats as a fairy the while. 
 
 ISow a fleecy cloud is passing by, 
 
 And it lightly kisses her beautiful brow ; 
 
 For a moment she frowns upon the earth ; 
 Offended " Lady Moon," I allow. 
 
98 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 The tossing boughs have folded their 
 wings, 
 The birds are asleep in their dewy nests ; 
 The Summer grasses have drooped their 
 heads, 
 The dewdrops sparkle on the lily's 
 breast. 
 
 All nature is calm and still just now; 
 
 The sweetest flowers have their eyelids 
 closed ; 
 'T is evening's blessed, holy hour, 
 
 But I 'd not yet seek repose. 
 
 The eve of life will ere long dawn ; 
 The gathering shadows will warn us 
 home ; 
 And will Faith shine afar, as that bright, 
 fixed star 
 I see in the azure dome? 
 
 Or, as the meteor frail, 
 
 Will she fade away in air. 
 And leave the way all dark and drear. 
 
 And plunge our souls in deep despair? 
 
 O, may the eve be calm and still ; 
 May the curtain gently fall ! 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 99 
 
 May we, each one, see the city bright, 
 And hear tlio Savior's welcome call. 
 
 THE SUMMER WOOD. 
 
 I love the pleasant solitude 
 
 Of gentle stream and shady wood, 
 
 When Summer's sun, with powerful heat, 
 
 Bids me hie to its cool retreat. 
 
 How sweet at Fancy's call to rove 
 
 Through th' pleasant shade of a beautiful 
 
 grove ; 
 Or in th' dense forest to lose one's self 
 To the cares of earth, and court ISTature's 
 
 wealth. 
 
 With the arms of the giant trees swaying 
 
 above. 
 Seeming to point to the God of love. 
 Above, around, JSTature reigns supreme, 
 And Care seems as a far-otf dream. 
 Above is the sky of beautiful blue, 
 Below is the earth — it is beautiful, too — 
 Bedecked with flowers of every mold, 
 Brighter gems are they than burnished 
 
 gold. 
 
100 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 The feathery ferns wave at my feet; 
 They seem as a spirit gentle and meek ; 
 While the balmy breezes from the south 
 Kiss my cheeks with a tender mouth. 
 The trees are alive with a wild gay throng, 
 The wood resounds with their joyful song; 
 Then all is still, silence reigns profound. 
 From the tops of the trees to the green- 
 sodded ground. 
 
 I sit beside the babbling brook, 
 While JSTature seems an open book. 
 Upon whose pages I plaiidy trace 
 Lessons of wisdom and of grace. 
 Sweet stories from on high are hurled 
 Down to the people of this world. 
 Carefully I scan the well-stored pages, 
 And the lesson I learn will live for ages. 
 
 Oh, the forest is an holy ground ! 
 God's presence there is ever found ! 
 Then I'll away to that temple pure, divine ! 
 Where His image, I know, will forever 
 
 shine ; 
 Where His love, I know, will forever be, 
 For all of earth's children, bountifully, 
 
 free. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 101 
 
 WHEi^ THE MILLIONS SLUMBER. 
 
 AVhen the countless millions slumber, 
 When daytime's labors all are clone, 
 
 And every wish of life forgotten. 
 Till shall rise the morrow's sun. 
 
 When tlie shadowy curtain falleth. 
 Closing out all toil and strife, 
 
 Bringing sweetest peace to mortals, 
 E'en most weary of this life. 
 
 When little hands, all day so busy. 
 Lay clasped in fond embrace, 
 
 And lips in silence sweetly smile, 
 Pillowed close to another face. 
 
 When the stern and hardened features. 
 
 Of him long known to sin, 
 Assume a softer, milder cast. 
 
 Faint gleam of what has been. 
 
 When the guardian spirits hover 
 
 O'er the couch of all, 
 Keeping safe the good and guilty. 
 
 Till the morning sunbeams fall. 
 
102 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Still the hand of ITature rests not, 
 But labors on through all the night, 
 
 Ever forming marvelous works, 
 That are pleasing to the sight. 
 
 l^iffht-time o-ems — we name them dew- 
 
 drops — 
 • Kiss the buds, and the}^ then unclose; 
 At the morn our eyes are greeted, 
 33y the bright and fragrant rose. 
 
 Onward flows the murmuring streamlet. 
 Doing still its great work well ; 
 
 Ask the ocean of its mission. 
 And its might}' roar will tell. 
 
 Onward glide the hours and minutes, 
 Onward to the realms unknown, 
 
 Bearing upward deeds of goodness. 
 To the bright and shining throne. 
 
 While the countless millions slumber, 
 An eye there is that shines above. 
 
 Guarding us through gloom and shadow, 
 With its fadeless beams of love. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 103 
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING. 
 
 What would I do ? — now do jou ask 
 What I would do for those I love, 
 
 The tender bonds to beautify, 
 And my constancy to prove? 
 
 Not gold nor gems have I to give ; 
 
 Nor would I prott'er such as they. 
 Which charm this life but for an hour, 
 
 Then, as the snowliakes, melt away. 
 
 But I would offer, from my store, 
 
 A kindly, sympatlietic will ; 
 A ready hand in hours of need. 
 
 To banish every rising ill. 
 
 Only friendship that is tried 
 
 And proven true is real ; 
 Some shining gems of rare design. 
 
 If passed through flames, a dross re- 
 veal. 
 
104 DAr-DREAMS. 
 
 OUR GIYE^^ TASK. 
 
 O, may we work loell our given task, 
 With steadfast hands and a willing 
 mind ; 
 !N^or wish for station of higher degree 
 Than the one by God given, though of 
 an humble kind. 
 
 They tell of lofty heights, 
 
 "Where the strong and th' great have 
 stood ; 
 But to climb that rugged pathway steep. 
 Some have not courage nor strength it' 
 they would. 
 
 Some have gained laurels by daring deeds, 
 And our hearts swell big as we think 
 of their fame ; 
 But, O, let us battle for truth and right, 
 Not alone fur a gilded and shining 
 name. 
 
 All of earth's children can not wear 
 crowns, 
 Nor sit on the throne th' monarch fills; 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 105 
 
 But nobly can they perform eacii task, 
 And do the work their God has willed. 
 
 May we not long for hidden paths, 
 
 Which were designed loe should never 
 tread ; 
 But go straight on with courage and 
 faith, 
 By an All-wise One so surely led. 
 
 Honor beams as brightly where green 
 mosses grow, 
 
 As on til' mountain's highest peak; 
 Though th' reflection shines not so far, 
 
 'T is more than courage to the weak. 
 
 There are thorns in our neighbor's path ; 
 O, with love may we smooth them 
 down, 
 And scatter roses and sunshine instead. 
 For dark and gloomy is fortune's 
 frown. 
 
 Yes, there 's work for us all to do ! 
 
 Then let us not idle to-day, 
 For the golden iiours are passing swift — 
 
 They heed not our call to stay. 
 
106 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 O, may we Avork well our given task, 
 With steadfast hand and a willing 
 mind ; 
 ■Nor wish for station of higher degree 
 Than th' one bv God o-iven, thoLisrh of 
 an humble kind. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 The Western sky was aglow 
 
 With a crimson and amber light, 
 While fleecy clouds, with a golden tint, 
 
 Floated like spirits in garments bright. 
 I stood entranced, for I love it well — 
 
 A Summer snnset scene, 
 When a hazy light, o'er mountain and 
 hill, 
 
 Unfolds like a gauzy screen. 
 All others were outside myself, 
 
 I stood as lost, alone; 
 For my spirit wandered afar from me, 
 
 And sat on cloudland's highest throne. 
 But swift and sudden was its return, 
 
 i!^ot bidden back by my own strong 
 will, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 107 
 
 For the sunset smile sank low from view, 
 And shadows fell o'er woodland and 
 hill. 
 Thus it is they fade away, 
 
 All life's joys, however bright. 
 And wandering- spirits that bathe in bliss, 
 Are chased by the gathering shades of 
 night. 
 
 THE DOVE. 
 
 O, why so sad is thy song, sweet bird ? 
 
 O, why so sad thy song ? 
 I'm sure the day is beautiful, 
 
 And pleasant was the morn. 
 
 And yet thy lay, so mournfully sad. 
 
 Jars upon my heart, 
 As the last farewell of a dear, loved one, 
 
 With whom I 'm called to part. 
 
 O, why is thy song so sad, sweet bird. 
 When thy forest home is so sweet and 
 gay? 
 
 The robin is joyful in the high tree-tops, 
 As it skips about in its play. 
 
108 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 The squirrel is frisking about iu his glee, 
 He joyfully welcomes the Spriug's re- 
 turn ; 
 
 But thou alone art sad, sweet bird, 
 And ceases not tliy mournful song. 
 
 The greenwood is rife with sweet per- 
 fume 
 Of Mayday blossoms fair, 
 AVhich the children pluck in their ram- 
 bles. 
 And weave in garlands for their hair. 
 
 But still thy song is sad, sweet bird ; 
 
 Yes, sad, oh sad, is thy song, 
 Though the day is bright and beautiful. 
 
 And pleasant was the morn. 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 America ! O, glorious land ! 
 
 The home of light, and joy, and lib- 
 erty. 
 Thy children are a happy band, 
 
 That fondly clings in love to thee. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 109 
 
 No other soil is half so dear, 
 ISTo other sky so clear, so hhie ! 
 
 The flowers that bloom in tJiy gohlen year 
 Are brigliter than diamonds, rich and 
 new. 
 
 Why do they brave old Ocean's waves, 
 
 And clouds and storms, so tierce and 
 wild? 
 Aye, often find a watery grave — 
 
 Many a dusk^^-featured foreign child ? 
 They hear of the peace on thy beautiful 
 shore, 
 
 Where all God's children alike are free; 
 They'd share of thy joy's forevermore, 
 
 And labor in love and honor for thee. 
 
 Each breeze that crosses the mighty deep 
 
 Bears a message of promise afar — 
 A promise to weary ones ever sweet; 
 
 And th(.*y dream of our land as a rose- 
 crowned bower. 
 Their weary feet they long to rest 
 
 On a soil that knows no serf nor slave ; 
 Where all alike are ever blest, 
 
 And proud of the banuer that over 
 them waves. 
 
110 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Thy fields a, battle-ground have been 
 
 Where man}' a brave one fell, 
 When our land was rife with strife and sin, 
 
 And thickly rained dread shot and shell. 
 I almost think I now can hear 
 
 The dram's sad rolling beat. 
 That called brave ones without a fear. 
 
 And hastened them on with Avilling 
 feet. 
 
 And it seems I hear the trumpet's sound. 
 
 That signaled for the fight. 
 The battle o'er, I see the blood stained 
 ground. 
 And silent faces, all pale in the sun's 
 fair light ! 
 High marbles tower above thy brow, 
 
 To tell of heroes slain. 
 We think of them with pride, e'en now, 
 For th' peace that's ours their blood 
 did gain. 
 
 An hundred years have passed away. 
 Since our own blest liberty was gained. 
 
 0, where are the brave of that glorious day, 
 Who banished the tyranny that long 
 had reigned? 
 
DAY-DREAMS. Ill 
 
 They won briglit laurels that Avill never 
 fade — 
 A crown whose star can ne'er a:row 
 dim ; 
 Their dust in the earth long, long has 
 laid, 
 Yet we sing their praise as a well- 
 loved hymn. 
 
 We'll furl our banners to tlie breeze; 
 
 Oh ! long may they wave in air, 
 High above domes and lofty trees, 
 
 In skies serene and fair. 
 
 THE WINECUP. 
 
 O, what misenj that word proclaims to 
 many ! It sends a death-like shudder to 
 the already burdened and sorrowful heart, 
 and saddens the merry one that has never 
 known care. 
 
 It has blighted our beautiful and ])leas- 
 ant w^orld, and filled it with wickedness 
 and vice, that would have been unknown 
 without its terrible influence. Yet how 
 
112 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 many court its bright and enticingc gleam- 
 ing, as they do the sniile of a deceitful 
 friend, which is only intended as u false 
 beacon to Inre them on to ruin's path ! 
 "What power does it jDossess, that it can 
 wreak so much ruin in our hind? That 
 it can call the father from his Ijome, 
 and little ones to seek the association of 
 the vilest of earth's inhabitants? That 
 it can snatch the lanrel from the brow of 
 genius, and send its possessor groveling 
 as a vagabond upon the eartli ? 
 
 Ay, it does possess power! an awful, 
 fiendish power ! And great courage does 
 it require for some to battle against that 
 power. 
 
 But O, that it could be forever ban- 
 ished from our land. A whole nation 
 cries out against it! The orphans' tears, 
 the widows' moans, and the mothers' 
 prayers, plead for its destruction. 
 
 Its sparkle is as Satan's smile, and 
 when it enters a home, all peace and hap- 
 piness vanishes therefrom. IJicy dwell 
 not in its recei)tacle. 
 
 Ko truer picture of its destructive power 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 113 
 
 could be penciled than the "drunkard's 
 home.'' 
 
 O Avhat a sad picture it presents! All 
 there is desolate and drear; no silvery 
 langh breaks the monotonous gloom. 
 And yet, little ones there dwell ; but they 
 are not the rosy, bright eyed beings God 
 intended they should be. The luster of 
 their eyes is dimmed by tears, and the 
 roses are bleached from their cheeks by 
 poverty's stinging blast. Alas, that their 
 young lives should thus be so cruelly 
 blighted! There is but a scant crust 
 upon the slielf, and yet so many birdlings 
 to be fed. 
 
 The fire burns low within the grate, 
 and yet the cold wintry blast howls and 
 shrieks as wildly in his mad career as 
 though all were clothed and well fed. 
 
 Can it be that that sad faced woman is 
 the bright and happy maiden who but a 
 few years since left her pleasant girlhood 
 home, with all its loved associates, and 
 at the altar jdiLdited her troth with him 
 she trusted and deemed the noblest and 
 best? 
 And can it be, that that reeling, totter- 
 
114 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 ing form tliat enters liis miserable dwell- 
 ing with riicle and awful curses, which 
 send those little ones cowering from his 
 crazed and enraged presence — can it be, 
 I ask, that he is the Imsband of that 
 gentle though broken-hearted being, and 
 the father of those innocent ones? 
 
 Alas, that he should be ! And oh ! that 
 80 many lives sliould be made miserable 
 and so many homes desolate by that awful 
 one, the worst, the crudest, of all earth's 
 
 enemies 
 
 Many green mounds of to-day rise 
 above the moldering forms of those wlio 
 once bid fair to till stations of honor and 
 usefulness. But the tempter o'erpowered 
 them in an hour of weakness, and they 
 sank under the weight of his destroying 
 hand ! 
 
 OUR WORK WILL TELL. 
 
 The labor of our hands to-day 
 
 Will live in 3'ears and 3'ears to come. 
 
 When earthly work we cease to do — 
 Saved, in the great eternal home. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 115 
 
 If (m]y joys we hope to reap, 
 
 While dwellers of the earth, 
 Were our labors best reward. 
 
 And tiresome efforts' greatest worth — 
 
 I fear the heart would cease to hope ! 
 
 The hands would idle grow ! 
 And life a blank to each one seem — 
 
 A worthless blank, I know. 
 
 For life's short hour seems but a span, 
 And each mortal's race is run ; 
 
 Forgotten, then, by all the earth ! 
 
 If lived not still the works he's done. 
 
 When lips and hands are 'ever still, 
 TheyVwe to speak with pride or shame. 
 
 And keep green through all the coming 
 years 
 A bright or tarnished name. 
 
 O may our deeds be ever such, 
 
 A record good they '11 show, 
 When cometh that great silence 
 
 Each one ere long must know. 
 
 0, Faith ! shine thou more brightly. 
 Give strength to do the great work well ; 
 
116 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 For when our lips are silent 
 Our livina: works will tell. 
 
 BY FAITH. 
 
 He knelt in the twilight shadows, 
 At the close of a Summer day ; 
 
 His little hands in prayer were lifted, 
 And this is what I heard him say : 
 
 " O, Lord, who lives ahove, 
 
 In the great big home where the angels 
 dwell, 
 Listen just now to Eddie's prayer, 
 
 And hear, O Lord, what he would tell. 
 
 "My name is Eddie Birch, it is; 
 
 I live with old Simon Brown ; 
 But I do not love him — now forgive, 
 
 For he gets drunk when he goes to 
 town. 
 
 "And 0, he swears so wickedly. 
 
 It makes cold cliills all over me go; 
 
 But no where else do I have to live, 
 And 2 'm only a little boy, you know. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 117 
 
 "But when I grow to be a man, 
 
 No longer will I stay 
 With one so rude, and wicked too, 
 
 That he never thinks to pray. 
 
 "And if he knew that now 
 
 I raised to heaven my voice or eye, 
 
 I know he 'd beat me very hard. 
 Until I 'd surely have to cry. 
 
 " My darling mamma died one day. 
 When I was very, very small ; 
 
 I know she'd not have left me then, 
 But she had to go at thy own great call. 
 
 "And ever since, so lonesome I, ' 
 With not a top, nor kite, nor toy — 
 
 I wonder now why I should be 
 So lone a little boy. 
 
 "Now, if something I had that I could love. 
 Something that would love me too, 
 
 I think that I would happy be, 
 
 And content the whole day through. 
 
 "I listen to the robin's song, 
 
 As I sit for hours, on some moss-grown 
 log; 
 
118 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 But something that 's all my own I want, 
 0, how I 'cl love a brand-new dog ! 
 
 "And I would never sell him, 
 
 And I'd never give him away ; 
 But I w^ould keep him always, 
 
 give me a dog, I pray. 
 
 " He must be a new one, 
 
 With eyes glistening bright, 
 With a shagg}' tail and silken mane; 
 
 And be must neither growl nor bite. 
 
 " I'd hitch him to my wagon ; 
 
 1 made it all myself; 
 
 And for food I'd give him all the crumbs 
 That are left upon the shelf. 
 
 "I'd haul chips and limbs for Widow 
 Grey- 
 She, too, is very poor — 
 And I 'd stack them np in a great big 
 heap 
 By the side of her kitchen door. 
 
 " Down hills and through the hollows, 
 And over stones we 'd jog, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 119 
 
 O, would n't we be jolly, though — 
 Myselt and brand-new dog?" 
 
 Lord, for the faith of that pure child, 
 As he knelt in the twilight there, 
 
 "With a heart so brave and a trust so 
 sweet, 
 As he breathed his simple prayer. 
 
 0, may tee bear the ills of life 
 
 As patiently as he. 
 And may our words and actions too 
 
 From sin be ever free. 
 
 And may sweet Hope still light our way, 
 As his through care's dense fog; 
 
 With faith as pure may we ever live 
 As when he prayed for his " brand-new 
 doff." 
 
120 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 THE BEGGAR'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 The bells were ringiiia: loud and clear, 
 The streets were thronged with young 
 and gay, ( 
 
 But none stopped to question the hapless 
 child 
 Who through th' crowd wended its 
 weary way, 
 None noticed the tear whicli dimmed its 
 eye, 
 Nor cared that its clothes were ragged 
 and torn — 
 No time to notice beggars then, 
 
 For 't was a lovely " Christmas" morn. 
 
 A day we always celebrate^ 
 
 A glad and hap}ty day ; 
 And we think of the "Christmas" of 
 long ago, 
 
 When the Babe in the manger lay. 
 The rich man invites the wealthy to his 
 feast, 
 
 And they gather around his board. 
 With a merry jest and a hearty cheer 
 
 They partake of his bountiful hoard. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 121 
 
 Then a prayer is offered — to th' great 
 Divine — 
 For the saviiio- of souls and eleansinir 
 from sin, 
 But I think the Savior frowns, and says: 
 " My lambs are out ! Ye invite them 
 not in." 
 Still up and down the noisy street, 
 
 Amid th' throng and tumult wild. 
 
 With faltering steps and a weary heart 
 
 Wandered alone the beggar child. 
 
 In vain she asked for help, 
 
 As she held out her poor little hand, 
 But no kindly hearts were nigh, 
 
 And no fairy came with his golden 
 wand. 
 But a beautiful lady chanced to pass, 
 
 Bedecked in silk and jewels rare. 
 At her side was a lovely child. 
 
 With shining curls of golden hair. 
 
 " Mamma, look ! " said the child, " look 
 at that little girl. 
 
 Her dress all torn and tears in her eye. 
 Let's stop, mamma, dear, 
 
 And see what makes her cry." 
 
122 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 But the lady moved on with a quickened 
 pace, 
 Nor heeded her child nor the waif's 
 pleading tears ; 
 But Avith scornful look, and a hauglity 
 air, 
 She said : " Never mind, 't is a beggar, 
 m.y dear." 
 
 But when niylit came, a baud of angels 
 bright 
 Flew down from their homes on high 
 In search of a treasure fit for the skies ; 
 
 And did they pass the beggar by ? 
 Oh, no ! but folding their wings azure 
 light. 
 They smiled upon her cold, still form, 
 Then, gathering her gently from the 
 earth, 
 Away through the air she was ten- 
 derly borne — 
 
 Till they came to a mansion of stately 
 design, 
 
 Where wealth reigned supreme within. 
 Where the sound of revelry and mirth, 
 
 Heightened the festivity of sin. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. ]23 
 
 Thej' halted there in their onward flight, 
 And their harps they tnned anew, 
 
 Which liushed the sound of all other 
 strains, 
 That of earth or earthlj grew. 
 
 A shadow of darkness fell as a pall. 
 
 Over that mansion'so stately and grand, 
 And many hearts were saddened then, 
 
 As entered that heavenly band ; 
 For the greatest treasure that house con- 
 tained, 
 
 They came to Lear aAvay ; 
 The beauteous one, with golden hair. 
 
 Was too pure with them to stay. 
 
 Two lambs, the angels bore to the throne 
 To crown with glory and light — 
 
 Equal, at last, were those innocent ones. 
 Equal in Heaven, that Christmas night. 
 
124 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 GOIXG TO GEAXDMA'S. 
 
 We 're going to our grandma's, 
 
 Mamma, iSTell, and I ; 
 But papa, he '11 stay home, 
 
 To bid us all goodbye. 
 
 We have lots of nice new dresses, 
 
 Plaid and blue and red ; 
 I'm to have a silk some day, 
 
 So my mamma said. 
 
 We have presents for our grandma, 
 They always please her well ; 
 
 I drew a picture of oar cat, 
 And so did sister Nell. 
 
 She never saw our pussy, 
 
 So I thought I 'd take her too ; 
 
 But papa laughed outright, 
 
 And mamma said 't would never do. 
 
 I think she will be lonely. 
 
 And miss us through the day ; 
 
 Perhaps she'll shed a tear unseen. 
 When we are gone away. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 125 
 
 Were yon ever to onr grandma's ? 
 
 You say you ne'er were^there. 
 Well, I wish that you would go, 
 
 When you've time enough to spare. 
 
 She does not live in town like me, 
 
 Where houses are so thick, 
 And crowded all together. 
 
 Stone and frame and brick. 
 
 But there are great bright meadows. 
 Spread out so wide and green. 
 
 And flowers bloom so beautifully, 
 The prettiest ever seen. 
 
 She has a nice big orchard, 
 
 Where we play and romp and run, 
 
 In the tall and waving grass — 
 0, 't is the nicest place for fun ! 
 
 We have a swing in the great pear tree. 
 That stands so high and tall. 
 
 But the limbs are stout and never break, 
 So you need n't fear you '11 fall. 
 
 Did you ever see our grandma. 
 And sit upon her knee ? 
 
126 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 And did she tell you pretty stones, 
 Like she does to 'NeW and me ? 
 
 Her eyes they shine so brightly 
 
 Through the glasses that she wears, 
 
 And I think the cap is pretty 
 That hides her silver hairs. 
 
 She says, "the frosts of years 
 
 Have fallen on her head, 
 And time has stolen her roses, 
 
 And left furrows in their stead." 
 
 I do n't know just what she means. 
 But I know it 's all the truth. 
 
 And I wonder why a tear -will start. 
 
 When she speaks. of eaviy youth. 
 
 . _ , __ ^,_ „ ^, f.. . . _ ■ 
 
 She always has a pocket-fuTt . , 
 
 Of every tiling that 's good ; ' * 
 
 Iwishyoii 'd go and see her, ^^ .„ ^^^^^j ^-r^ 
 
 You 'd love her if you would. .^ k^^^'V 
 
 She makes the sweetest pumpkin pies, 
 Her cakes are brown and nice ; 
 
 She tills the little pans for us. 
 And gives us a great big slice. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 127 
 
 Yes, we 're going to our grandma's, 
 
 Mamma, Nell, and I; 
 But papa, he '11 stay home, 
 
 To bid us all goodbye. 
 
 I think that he and puss 
 
 "Will be lonely through the day ; 
 And they '11 shed a tear, perhaps. 
 
 When we are gone away. 
 
 THIXKING. 
 
 I'm thinking to-night of sweet faces 
 
 That now are hidden from my view ; 
 For deep is the veil that's drawn be- 
 tween. 
 
 And its folds I can not see through. 
 I'm thinking how they have faded 
 
 In tha peaceful, quiet morn, 
 When th' earth was full of verdure, 
 
 And bright beauty, newly born. 
 
 I'm thinking to-night of beautiful e3^es — 
 Some azure, some midnight, some 
 brown ; 
 
128 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 And again I seem to see tliera gleam, 
 Mayhap on me they're looking down. 
 
 I 'm thinking how each hright orb closed 
 At th' tonch of an icy hand ; 
 
 Yet I long to behold the beauties they 
 see, 
 In th' far-off, evergreen land. 
 
 I'm thinking to-night of sweet voices, 
 
 Their music no longer I hear; 
 Hushed are their lute-like measures, 
 
 Yet they seem to linger near. 
 I'm thinking to-night how sweet they 
 must sound — 
 
 The voices of those I love, 
 I'll know them, I think, from all others, 
 
 "When I reach the haven above. 
 
 I wonder if they '11 meet me. 
 
 With joy by the river's side, 
 "With garments pure and spotless, 
 
 Washed clean by Jordan's tide? 
 And will they sound a welcome. 
 
 Proclaimed on harps of gold ? 
 And who will be the lirst to greet, 
 
 As I enter in their joyful fold? 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 129 
 
 CPIILDHOOD. 
 
 Ah, beautiful childhood! Free, inno- 
 cent, joyous childhood! Memory still 
 clings to thee, though thou seemest as a 
 far-oft', happy dream. Who would for- 
 get the past delights of life's sweet morn- 
 ing? Who would forget the loved paths 
 trod in innocence, where sunshine 
 brightly gleamed, and the most beautiful 
 flowers bloomed ? The light of that 
 sunsliine bas not yet all faded from our 
 beings, and tbe fragrance of those same 
 blossoms seems sometimes wafted back 
 on friendly breezes. 
 
 How glad am I that, notwithstanding 
 all tlie busy works of life, we sometimes 
 find surcease, and tben these reviews of 
 the past stand out so plainly before us. 
 
 Our feet seem to again tread in w^ell- 
 loved haunts. We sing again cliild- 
 liood's joyous songs, and converse with 
 friends well loved, though some of them 
 have long since ceased to speak in 
 earthly language, and have lain aside all 
 
130 DAy-DREAMS. 
 
 earthly attii'e. Ah, the memory brings 
 sadness as well as jo\'. Well, life is all 
 sunshine and shadow anyway. And 
 even childhood was not free from trouble 
 and vexations; though what then seem- 
 ed great troidjles disappeared Avith the 
 drying of tears which tlten flowed so 
 freely. 
 
 First, memory calls us back to the 
 time when our infant feet tottered around 
 the loved hearthstone, watched and 
 safel}' guarded by a gentle mother's care- 
 ful eyes and tireless hand. Blest mem- 
 ory ! May thy faint impressions never 
 be wholly obliterated. 
 
 Then came the wild, glad days of 
 romping and roving in field and forest. 
 And, still later, the first school-days of 
 life ; and with them came our first trou- 
 ble. Yes, when we entered through the 
 door of that little, old-fashioned, weather- 
 grimed building, it was like stepping 
 into a field of thorns and brambles. It 
 seemed a new life, nevertheless. How 
 world-Avise we felt, as we hastened home 
 with book in hand, and a glowing coun- 
 tenance, to proclaim the glad tidings 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 131 
 
 that we bad reached a lesson of two syl- 
 lables, and could nov) spell just as well 
 as anyone. But, oh, how those elated 
 spirits drooped, wiien, the next day, we 
 were turned back three or four pages to 
 accommodate some tardy pupil. Can 
 we ever forget how hated he ever seemed 
 in our sight? No^ and we do not like 
 him yet, though we never have to turn 
 back for him now. 
 
 This was only a beginning of our 
 school-day trials, and new ones, and 
 greater ones, arose each successive day. 
 Why would they send one all the way 
 down foot, just as he was beginning to 
 rejoice at being the highest one in that 
 class of tifteen noisy boys and mischiev- 
 ous girls ? How cold and lonely it al- 
 ways seemed down there. Yes, and one 
 was obliged to stand for awhile near that 
 
 idle Tom B , who never was higher 
 
 than second from foot. 
 
 How we disliked that Mary H . 
 
 And whyf I must whisper the reason. 
 Sometimes her curls looked more beauti- 
 ful than our own. This was when we 
 had arrown older. And then Charlie 
 
132 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 C , who had been our favorite, since 
 
 the clay he so kindly tied on our hood, 
 and drew on our little red mittens, would 
 always manage to stand by her, and 
 whisper the letters in her ear, when she 
 had spent all her time playing puzzle or 
 picture making. We have even known 
 him to miss words on purpose to get 
 near her. Oh, how our envious hearts 
 grieved at the uujustice done in that 
 noted spelling-class so long ago. 
 
 But we will ever treasure in our 
 niemory loved faces of those halcyon 
 days. Some have gone out into the 
 world, and gained bright honors by their 
 worthy deeds. Others have long since 
 crossed the river, over to the golden city, 
 w^here all is light and love. And others — 
 we know not where they are, nor what 
 stations in life they fill ; but, with con- 
 fiding trust, we look forward to the day 
 when we shall meet and know each one 
 on the glittei'ing strand. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 133 
 
 IN ANB OUT. 
 
 I grieved for the blossoms faded, 
 I was sorry that Winter had come; 
 
 I longed to hear the cheering notes 
 
 Of tlie birds that had songht their sunny 
 home. 
 
 I thought, oh the frosts are cruel, 
 To lay Summer's beauties so low! 
 
 And the leaden clouds looked drear — 
 That veiled the sunlight's glow. 
 
 My room was full of shadows 
 Like ghosts, unbidden there; 
 
 They entered into my being. 
 And reflected shadows everywhere. 
 
 Then I heard the merry voices 
 Of the children in the street, 
 
 As W'ith glowing cheeks they passed, 
 And a sunny smile to greet. 
 
 Oh, I thought, there's joy out there, 
 Though the wind blows fierce and 
 wild : 
 
134 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 And its sweets 1 too will share — 
 Yes, I'll be again a child. 
 
 Not a minute lingered I, 
 
 But hurried on with quickened pace, 
 Just in time to meet a welcome 
 
 From a sweet and happy face. 
 
 As tlie ruby lips were parted, 
 
 To proclaim these words of cheer — 
 
 "Oh such fun Ave 've had to-day, 
 
 And I'm glad that Winter's here!" 
 
 " Shadows, leave me ! " then I cried ; 
 
 " There 's no room within for thee ; 
 And thou, wretched disconteut, 
 
 I bid forever flee." 
 
 Theu, they both obeyed, right there, 
 
 And I stood a beiug new ; 
 The dreary day seemed glad and free, 
 
 And /was happy, too. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 135 
 
 TRIBUTE TO WmTER. 
 
 The flower-decked Summer days are 
 passed, 
 
 And Autumn, too, has gone; 
 But Winter reigns supreme just now, 
 
 And he boasts of snow and storm. 
 
 'Twas sad to see our flowers fade 
 
 And wither at our feet ; 
 They cheered us through the Summer 
 liours 
 
 With their presence, glad and sweet. 
 
 But Jack Frost is rude and rough, you 
 know ; 
 
 His touch is fatal and sure ; 
 He spares not the bright nor beautiful. 
 
 The lovely nor the pure. 
 
 The happy birds, where are they now? 
 
 We miss their gladsome song, 
 We hear them not at eventide, 
 
 Nor yet at early dawn. 
 
136 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 They have flown to brighter, snuiiier 
 climes, 
 
 Where the ivy and myrtle bloom ; 
 They sing for other ears to-day, 
 
 While our hearts are tilled with gloom ; 
 
 For there 's a grave in the valley drear, 
 Where a loved one sleeps to-day ; 
 
 Our hearts were saddened with bitter 
 grief 
 When that dear one went away. 
 
 They laid him 'neath the cold, cold earth; 
 
 They heaped it above his breast ; 
 We shed a tear on the mound of clay, 
 
 And left our darling to rest. 
 
 Fall gently, O ye snowy flakes ! 
 
 Fall gently wdiere he rleeps ! 
 Touch lightly the Pod above his head ! 
 
 Pile not in drifts so deep. 
 
 And, ye howling winds, 
 
 Why do ye blow so wnld and tierce ? 
 Ye mock our grief in your mad career, 
 
 And our hearts ye e'en would pierce. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 137 
 
 And, ye darksome clouds, in the sky 
 above. 
 You \l e'en blot heaven from our sight ! 
 But our faith sees through vour murky 
 veil. 
 And our orbs are greeted by a beacon 
 of light. 
 
 We see th' bright streets of the city above, 
 We hear the chorus of the angels' soug, 
 
 We 're journeying onward to the world 
 of light, 
 We '11 hail with joy the glorious dawn. 
 
 FLIGHT OF TIME. 
 
 Could we but realize the swiftness of 
 time, we surely would not allow so many 
 unemplo3'ed hours to pass o'er our heads, 
 touching them — though nnperceived now 
 — with a wand which leaves an impres- 
 sion, ere long to be displayed by silvery 
 threads. 
 
 We have seen our fathers and mothers 
 grow gray and furrowed, and all of Sum- 
 
138 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 mer's bloom vanish from brow and cheek. 
 The same change awaits each one. 
 
 To-day \\ e stand by the brink of a 
 bright stream, and watch the mnrmnriiig 
 waters as they flow on and on without 
 ceasing. But do we ask ourselves, 
 " Wiiere are those who a century ago 
 watched, as we now do, the ceaseless 
 flowing of the same stream ?" They are 
 silent forever. Their lives were like the 
 bubbles that vanish under our admiring 
 gaze. 
 
 Their work is cU)ne ; their labor o'er ; 
 
 They 've crossed the stream to the other shore. 
 
 Ere long our work will be done. 
 may it be ivell done. May we labor hard, 
 while it is yet to-day, so when the night 
 cometh it may not find and hold us amono; 
 the class known as "Earth's idlers." 
 Eather may it be " Earth's benefactors." 
 
 We are prone to heed the "siren's" 
 voice, and put off" until the morrow what 
 should be done to-da_y. 
 
 We are told of two youths who were 
 traveling in the East, and came to a beau- 
 tiful inclosure, which the}' soon learned 
 was the o-arden of " Peace.'' Tliev had 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 139 
 
 never beheld such beauty as tlieir eyes 
 were greeted with, through the openings 
 of the high trellis, surrounding a verdant 
 plot, where silver fountains scattered the 
 spray of their crystal waters o'er flowers 
 of rare brightnesHi. They longed to enter 
 and partake of the beauties within, but 
 the gate was securely fastened, and above 
 the archway, in strange characters, they 
 traced the following words : 
 
 "Ne'er till to-morrow's light delay, 
 What may as well be done to-day; 
 Ne'er do the thing you 'd wish undone, 
 Viewed by to-morrow's rising sun. 
 Observe these rules a single year, 
 And you may freely enter here."' 
 
 When they parted they agreed to make 
 the trial. The younger failed to come up 
 with each iujunction,and soon gave up in 
 despair. But the elder, by faith, proved 
 equal to the task, and when the year had 
 passed sought and found entrance into 
 the beautiful garden. 
 
 Shall 2ce, like the lirst, make one eftbrt, 
 then let our weakness overcome us, or, 
 like the braver one, buckle on the " armor 
 of Faith," and at last receive the reward ? 
 
 Let us not loiter b}' the wayside, but 
 
140 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 rather move on, with stead\' feet and will- 
 ing minds, seeking in thorny paths for 
 earth's weary ones, scattering sunshine 
 wherever we go, making brighter other 
 lives and adding sweet peace to our own. 
 
 The clock is ticking, the sands are fall- 
 ing, and the hours are passing ! 
 
 The days are lengthening into months, 
 and the months into years. The ilowers 
 bloom and then they fade ! 
 
 Alas, if the snows of winter fall upon 
 paths trod by idle feet ! If icy fetters se- 
 cure the impression of footsteps in forbid- 
 den ways ! 
 
 THE LOKE GRAVE. 
 
 ']^eath the wild forest shade 
 
 They laid her to rest; 
 They heaped the light turf 
 
 Above her young breast ; 
 They erected no marble 
 
 To tell of marked fame, 
 But on a rude stone 
 
 They carved her loved name. 
 
DAY-rREAMS. 141 
 
 There the ^yolf howled by night, 
 
 The squirrel sported by day, 
 And the gay wild bird 
 
 There sang his sweetest lay ; 
 The hoot of the owl 
 
 Sounded dismal and drear ! 
 Yet it disturbed not her slumbers. 
 
 For deaf was her ear. 
 
 The red man has fled 
 
 To far distant lands. 
 The forests have been cleared 
 
 By industrious liands ; 
 The liowl of the wolf 
 
 Has been hushed long ago. 
 He was swept from the hind 
 
 By the hand of his foe. 
 
 The lone grave now stands, 
 
 All quiet and still, 
 In the midst of a green field 
 
 On the brow of a hill. 
 Yet no flowers have been planted 
 
 By kind loving hands. 
 For she sleeps her last sleep 
 
 In strano-ers' land! 
 
142 DAY-DKEAMS. 
 
 A PRICELESS GIET. 
 
 'T was the brightest day, when that sliip 
 went forth 
 From her harbor by the sea, 
 With her white sails spread to catch the 
 breeze 
 That bore her on right gaUantly. 
 
 She seemed so grand : a noble thing, 
 
 To carry safely o'er 
 Her freight of brave and anxions hearts, 
 
 To a bright and verdant shore. 
 
 I looked upon her deck where beamed 
 
 Many faces lit with joy; 
 But the fairest one I noticed there 
 
 Was the face of a brave and hopeful 
 boy. 
 
 His white brow bared to the summer 
 breeze 
 That tossed his silken hair. 
 And his cheek was bright with a beam 
 of hope 
 That had gently fallen there. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 143 
 
 There was a light in his eje that told of 
 the lire 
 
 Whicli burned within his breast, 
 And spoke of ambition's mighty spell 
 
 That gave his sonl no rest. 
 
 1^0 gold heired he, nor fortune craved. 
 To purchase goods of rich design ; 
 
 But the merchandise was dift'erent far 
 lie sought to gain in a foreign clime. 
 
 His spirit soared to a standard high ; 
 
 And Faith lent power, gave strength 
 to dare ; 
 Above the ocean's mighty roar, 
 
 lie heard a voice, saw a vision fair. 
 
 He dreamed of glories for his brow. 
 And it sank in his soul like a mortal 
 fire. 
 Awakening a thrill in his being then. 
 Like lingering notes, swelling soft from 
 the lyre. 
 
 He cast his eye on the fading hills, 
 
 "Where sunbeams played at morn and 
 eve, 
 
144 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Where oft he 'd roved in boyhood's glee, 
 "And must he now tliese loved scenes 
 leave?" 
 
 And liis cottage home among the pines, 
 The pine's low moaning he loved so 
 well, 
 Yet it awoke a discontent, 
 
 And had bid him go from woodland 
 and dell. 
 
 And seek afar a treiisure gi-and, 
 
 E'en brighter than pearls from the bed 
 of the deep ; 
 
 A treasure rich, worth toil to gain. 
 But, if once won, quite safe to keep. 
 
 He heard a pray'r, low, soft, and sweet, 
 From the depths of a mother's heart, 
 
 And the words slie spoke in accents mild. 
 When had come the hour to part. 
 
 They had touched the tenderest chord 
 Of Ijis nature, strong and true ; 
 
 And hi.s fiery e3'es had softer grown, 
 And his lashes drooped 'neath glisten- 
 ins: dew. 
 
DAY-DKEAMS. 145 
 
 wliat would one not dare to win 
 That would honor give to a mother's 
 
 name ? 
 In recompense for affection deep, 
 Nights of wakino^, d.ij's of pain. 
 
 The very thought gave manhood strength 
 To him whose limbs were of boyish 
 mold ; 
 
 He stood erect and proudly smiled 
 As his heart grew strangely bold. 
 
 He looked again to the far-off' shore, 
 That had dim and dimmer grown, 
 
 But the crowd that met had all dispersed, 
 Save one form that stood alone. 
 
 He bore that image o'er the sea, 
 
 It cheered him when the storm raged 
 wild, 
 
 He heard sweet words above the roar, 
 A mother's blessing on her child. 
 
 1 know not if the boon he gained, 
 
 The boon his heart so sought to find, 
 But whatever of fame or wealth was his, 
 A purer gift he left behind. 
 
146 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 CLOVER BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Do yon know why so fondly I love 
 them — 
 
 Clover blossoms, pink and white? 
 "Why to me they are so precions, 
 
 And to life a dear delight ? 
 
 They bring to my heart fond memories 
 Of days that are long since past, 
 
 And joys that were not blighted 
 By any chilling blast. 
 
 They speak to me of faces 
 
 Of childhood friends I love, 
 And their perfume is as the whispers 
 
 Of those who dwell above. 
 
 Sweet clover blossoms, pink and white, 
 
 In snmmer e'er the same ! 
 They whisper to me of past delights, 
 
 And breathe in my ear loved names. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 147 
 
 SOLD. 
 
 A few days since we overheard a lady- 
 remark that slie was, upon a certain oc- 
 casion, " badly sold." We did not stop 
 to inquire concerning the price obtained 
 by the transaction, but, to judge from 
 the merriment of herself and compan- 
 ion, notwithstanding the emphasis she 
 placed upon the adverb, we inferred 
 'twas rather a good than bad bargain. 
 
 Sold ! How many are each day being 
 sold ! Yes, selling themselves, little by 
 little, until I fear, ere long, some will be 
 entirely closed out, with no stock to 
 commence anew. Many persons have 
 sacrificed youth, with all its capabilities 
 of doing good in the world, for the for- 
 warding of some ambitious desire, which 
 they were prompted to believe, when 
 possessed, would even exceed the price 
 set thereon. 
 
 Only too late have they found out 
 their mistake, and learned that nothino; 
 
148 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 craved and obtained by vain selfishness 
 can give peace, joy, or happiness. 
 
 Some sell health for fleeting pleasures, 
 which [lass away and leave no trace, ex- 
 cept furrows and heartaches, to tell of 
 their short duration. 
 
 i^OBODY'S CHILD. 
 
 A face as fair as morning's light, 
 E3'es that gleam so strangely bright, 
 A brow as pure as the lily fair, 
 Above which rests bands of golden hair, 
 
 Tied back in a style so plain, unique. 
 Tossed by wild winds, fierce and bleak. 
 That send a chill o'er her delicate form. 
 As she hurries on through th' blinding 
 storm. 
 
 The snowflakes melt as they kiss her 
 
 brow ; 
 They're no purer than that young heart, 
 
 1 trow, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 149 
 
 That throbs 'neath the folds of garments 
 
 worn, 
 "Which Time of all brightness has long 
 
 since shorn. 
 
 She hurries on through the gaping 
 
 crowd, 
 And the rabble, rude and loud; 
 She shrinks as curses fall on her ear, 
 And her steps are quickened by the 
 
 sense of fear. 
 
 0, God! that one so faiv and sweet 
 The vile and wicked e'er should meet! 
 But why is she out in tlie storm so wild? 
 The sad winds answer, ^^ She's nobody's 
 child." 
 
 She labors unceasing from morn till eve, 
 But the harvest she reaps is a scanty 
 
 sheaf; 
 At night she seeks lier garret home, 
 If home we could call a drear place so 
 
 lone. 
 
 If Jiome we could call a place where one 
 
 sleeps, 
 Partakes of a crust, and bitterly weeps 
 
150 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 O'er the wrongs of the clay, and th' rude 
 
 rebuti" 
 Of emplo^^ers, given in tones fierce and 
 
 gruff. 
 
 Who wipes the tears from her weeping 
 
 eye ? 
 Who kisses her brow to hill her sigh ? 
 And bids her rest, though the storm 
 
 rages wild ? 
 Not one! not one! for she's noboch/s 
 
 child. 
 
 In slumber, she sees a faint gleam of the 
 
 past, 
 That seems to have vanished before some 
 
 rude blast ; 
 An angel face on her soul is impressed, 
 And a form of beauty in bright raiment 
 
 dressed. 
 
 That same face o'er her pillow does 
 
 hover, 
 For in fitful dreams she murmurs 
 
 " mother." 
 
 Oh, Thou who waketh when others sleep. 
 And over all safe watch doth keep, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 151 
 
 Be a guide to her young feet! 
 
 May they never striiy, 
 
 But find and keep tlie "JSTarrow Way ; " 
 
 Submit to Thy will, with a spirit mild; 
 Be crowned with bright honors, 
 
 Though she's nobody's child! 
 
 FOR WHAT DO WE LABOR. 
 
 How many of all the vast number of 
 earth's inhabitants are to-day endeavoring 
 to do good in the world for themselves 
 and their fellow-beings? Ah, how few ! 
 Perhaps it is well we do not know just 
 how few. 
 
 If we knew of all the idle hands and 
 minds — idle in good, but active in evil 
 designing — perhaps we would lose cour- 
 age and our strength would fail us in time 
 of the great battle, which requires so 
 much fortitude to labor through. We 
 may expect our every good deed or aim 
 to have an opposing power. And let us 
 not look for nor expect justice in this 
 
152 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 world, for I fear, if we do, 't will be only 
 to i-eap disappointment in the end. 
 
 Whatever we do, let us do with all our 
 might, scorning to heed the ridicule which 
 is sure to be tendered by the idle ones of 
 earth. Some of earth's greatest benefac- 
 tors encountered foes of every descrip- 
 tion, and yet their patient perseverance 
 led them on to triumph. 
 
 If we labor alone for personal reward, 
 our efforts, in many respects, prove fruit- 
 less ; but if our aims be to benefit man- 
 kind and promulgate the sacred cause of 
 honor, we will surely reap a rich reward, 
 one enjoyable for the fact that it was 
 gained, not by selfish aims, but bj' deeds 
 of uprightness. 
 
 Some labor a lifetime for fame, with no 
 other desire on earth than to become a 
 uoted individual. This is their only am- 
 bition, their only earthly desire. 
 
 Ah, who can des^cribe man's love of 
 fame ? a love that never subsides ; but as 
 his years that are passed number more 
 than those to come ; as the form bows 
 lower and the locks become whiter, grows 
 stronger and yet stronger, as rekindled 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 153 
 
 by the inextinguishable flame of ambi- 
 tion. He shuts himself in from the world, 
 with all its beauty and pleasures, closes 
 his heart to all the love and tenderness 
 of earth, and gives himself up to his one 
 great passion. And what is his reward ? 
 Perhaps his greatest reward is a towering 
 marble, emblazoned w^ith words of praise. 
 But, O, is such worth the price at which 
 it is purchased ? I think not. And how 
 much of earth's pleasure and happiness 
 is lost to the ambitious laborer. Earth's 
 greatest blessings he knows not. Earth's 
 brightest treasures ne'er meet his view ; 
 and the world's sweetest joys to him are 
 lost. 
 
 O, if mankind would labor more for 
 fellow-beings, what a different world ours 
 would be. Many are to-day treading the 
 downward road to ruin, with no gentle 
 hand to stay and no tender words to warn. 
 
 God has given to each one of his chil- 
 dren some mission of good to perform on 
 earth. And if we live in His world, par- 
 take of all His bountiful favors, and fail 
 to perform that mission, what reward can 
 
154 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 we expect, other than an earthly, which 
 charms for a season, then fades away. 
 
 The Lord, in His wisdom, created us, 
 both mentally and physically, according 
 to the statious He intended us to fill, and 
 the labor He gave us to perform. 
 
 We should not become disheartened 
 because our deeds do uot produce an im- 
 mediate effect. JS^either should we mur- 
 mur because our stations are not so lofty 
 as some others fill. 
 
 We can not all go as missionaries to 
 the heathen lands to impart light to 
 the uncivilized of God's created beings. 
 IsTeither is such required of us. But we 
 can be missionaries at home. Our own 
 vicinities are rife with evil, which re- 
 quires unceasing labor to subdue. Yet 
 how many are idle. What wonder that 
 our prisons are full to overflowing, and 
 so much evil is abroad in our land. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 155 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 What is life that one should strive 
 
 For days proloiii^ed upon the earth ? 
 Does not the bible tell us true — 
 
 "Man's dying day is better far than that which 
 gave him birtli.' 
 
 Life is a problem not easily solved. 'T is 
 like a variegated woof, consisting of jB.ne, 
 coarse, golden, and somber threads, closely 
 interwoven together. 
 
 To-day we ma}- walk where beauty 
 seems to reign. iSTature speaks in her 
 softest, clearest tones, v\'liicli is congenial 
 with our tenderest, noblest feelings, 
 strengthening and invigorating every 
 new-born liope that seeks to dwell within. 
 The earth beneath our feet is verdant and 
 yielding; the sky above is azure and 
 sunny. This is to-day, but it gives no as- 
 surance that the morrow morn will dawn 
 in glory and peace. Sliadows may e'en 
 now be hovering behind that gold-tinted 
 cloud, which we love so well to look 
 upon ; and heaven's brightest gleams may 
 indeed mark the path of the storm-cloud. 
 
156 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Bat let us freely and gracioiislN- partake 
 of all the sweets of life as they come, and 
 at the same time be schooling the heart 
 for the endurance and willing acceptance 
 of all we deem the " bitter draughts." 
 
 Though to-day we walk where beauty 
 lingers, in flowery dells or shady groves, 
 let us be mindful that ruirged steeps and 
 craggy clifts arise beyond us. And these 
 must surely be climbed, for there is no 
 turning back in the great journey we have 
 undertaken. The paths our feet jjress to- 
 day will to-morrow lay afar behind, never 
 to be trodden by us again. What our 
 hands perform to-day can not be undone 
 by them to-morrow. The language of our 
 lips is uttered for all eternity, and will 
 ever stand registered in indelible charac- 
 ters to our everlasting glory and honor or 
 condemnation and shame. O, that our 
 lips may open only to the utterance of 
 language commendable for its truth and 
 kindly tones. Every word spoken in af- 
 fection leaves a good impression some- 
 where. 
 
 We know not what pearls we are scat- 
 tering abroad when we utter kind words ; 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 157 
 
 and not one is lost, but all are garnered 
 in, though we may know it not; and 
 they will reach some burdened soul, act- 
 ing as a balm, and shining there as a gem 
 of beauty, ligliting it on to the ways of 
 honor and uprightness. 
 
 To every young person going out from 
 the parental home, where he has known 
 naught but love and truth, what dangers 
 there are in store. 
 
 If he is of a confiding nature, his trust 
 may lead him into the many snares set 
 for him ; for evil lurks behind the hedge- 
 rows and in the sunny paths of pleasure. 
 
 "What a pity that we should distrust 
 any of God's created beings ! And yet 
 philosophy teaches that this is essential. 
 But let us not deem our world all decep- 
 tion and cheat ; for many true and noble 
 beings dwell thereon. And inasmuch as 
 God has created us in His own image, 
 we should strive each day to be more 
 truthful, pure, and God-like. 
 
 There is one gem mortals have been 
 seeking for since the day when our "first 
 parents" were driven from the flowery 
 garden, out where grew thorns and 
 
158 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 briers. And that much desired boon we 
 will never find while dwellers upon this 
 sphere ; for, like the fountain of" immor- 
 tal youth," it shines not this side of heav- 
 en's gates. 
 
 It is ti'ue happiness. The more we grasp 
 after it, the farther off it seems. A sweet 
 resignment to the Master's will comes 
 nearer being the f/em^ than anght else. 
 Some gain this through the pow'er of a 
 true and holj religion. 
 
 But most of earth's dw^ellers are mask- 
 ed beings, of whom we know but little. 
 We would not have the world know of 
 all the desires and dissatisfactions that 
 dwell within. Neither would the same 
 willingly have lifted the veil that screens 
 the many unsupplied wants and unreach- 
 ed aims of their own. 
 
 As we live to-day, others have lived in 
 years long gone by. We are told that 
 there is nothing new under the sun. Our 
 thoughts have been the thoughts of oth- 
 ers. Our desires are the same as some 
 who have long since ceased to wish for 
 or desire earthly blessings. The paths 
 we tread have been trodden by many, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 159 
 
 man}'' beings, whose journey is ended. 
 But we see their works, and they tell us 
 whether or not they lived in vain. 
 
 As wo hasten on, we give room for the 
 vast multitude that is still coming. Let 
 us pluck some of the flowers that bloom 
 along the wayside, and scatter them in 
 their pathway, and though they be with- 
 ered, they '11 tell of those who lived not 
 alone for self. 
 
 EVEMNG SCEITES. 
 
 Evening shades are gathering round ; 
 
 Daytime's golden light has gone ; 
 Feathery forms are flitting by, 
 
 Spirits of the early dawn. 
 
 Silver moonbeams shed a smile, 
 
 Over sleeping valleys low ; 
 Summer breezes softly whisper, 
 
 As the boughs sway to-and-fro. 
 
 "Where the birdlings safe are resting, 
 Free from storm and tempest wild ; 
 
 lie who guards them, sure will keep us, 
 Nor forsake a trustinjr child. 
 
160 DAYDREAMS. 
 
 Daj'time labors all are ended; 
 
 The weary \a orker seeks his hearth, 
 And the pe;icc that tlieie awaits him, 
 
 Sweetest Messing of the earth. 
 
 Mnsic floatsi upon tlie air, 
 
 Born of a sonl all pore and free. 
 
 May all thy life know joyful lays, 
 And thy songs, of gladness ever be. 
 
 Two little forms by tbeir bedside kneeling, 
 Four little hands are clasped in prayer. 
 
 As gentle whispers pass from lips, 
 Of beings pure as angels fair. 
 
 Golden ringlets, fall like sunbeams 
 Adown their shoulders Avliite; 
 
 Violet eyes are raised to Heaven ; 
 Orbs as fair as morning's light. 
 
 It seems the breezes whisper softer, 
 As they fan the restless leaves 
 
 Of the vine that shades the easement. 
 And clings above to the drooping eaves. 
 
 A mother's voice in low soft notes. 
 Sweetly sings a lullaby 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 101 
 
 To tlie cherub pillowed on her breast, 
 While the evening hours so swiftly fly. 
 
 The light goes out, and the vineclad cot 
 
 Is wrapt in silence now ; 
 Slumber's peaceful veil is dropped, 
 
 And falls in silence o'er each brow. 
 
 THE CROWNS WE WEAR. 
 
 Many of earth's children wear crowns. 
 Not such as rest above the proud features 
 of the ruling monarch, or add a grandeur 
 to the queen's fair beauty. But crowns 
 placed by the wearer above his own 
 brow. Brightly shine the crowns which 
 deck the brows of some we know ! Do 
 all see the dazzling light as we see it? 
 Does it charm other e3'es as it charms 
 our own ? I think it should. Ilapj)}- are 
 they whom fate lias given a dwelling 
 near where that light floods o'er, or e'en 
 does faintl}' penetrate. 
 
 Some may say : " I see no crown. I 
 see a brow of beauty; a face of classic 
 
162 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 mold; a stately form ; but the crown is 
 invisible to my view." Ah ! Ijliiid must 
 such ones be. And, in truth, there are 
 many who walk in hlindness here, l^ot 
 because they are deprived of the bless- 
 ing of sight ; but because they close 
 tlieir eyes and walk in darkness, seeing 
 no beauty, and stumbling o'er many 
 rough places, wliere their feet should not 
 wander. I fear the light of their coronet 
 has grown dim, if ever one tliey pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 0, that each one would labor to pos- 
 sess that regal diadem of life which all 
 should be proud to own. It does not re- 
 quire gold to form a purchase, but it does 
 require labor. Aye ! and truth, and 
 honor. 
 
 How happy we feel when under the 
 influence of some natures. They seem 
 to carry a strange, sweet power, which 
 dissipates every rising shadow. Their 
 presence seems to banish every vain long- 
 ing and sad discontent of life. Tkfy 
 wear the crown ! 
 
 Oh ! how dark life sometimes seems ! 
 Every one knows something of gloomy 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 163 
 
 clays, when every ray of hope seems to 
 have vanished. Our most ambitious work 
 lags, and loses its intciest. We stand, as 
 it were, in the midst of a stormy sea, 
 where great waves roll high, e'en most 
 Washing us from our frail footing. Dark 
 clouds gather o'er our heads, casting a 
 gloom over all below. We cry out in 
 despair, as our courage wanes and our 
 strength becomes lessened. But no, we 
 can not faint, for we feel the kindly sup- 
 port of a willing hand, and hear whis- 
 pers of a gentle voice, which acts as a 
 balm, giving us strength to stand erect, 
 and behold the clouds moving away, and 
 bright rifts of sunshine entering in. We 
 look to see the cause of the great change, 
 and behold the crown of beauty before 
 unseen ! 
 
 Oh ! that we may all possess that 
 which adds so much beauty, peace, and 
 light to life. And at last, when the cur- 
 tain is lifted which screens from view the 
 world of glory and radiance, may we 
 lay aside our earthly crowns, and receive 
 one of everlasting lig/it. 
 
164 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Gone are the beautiful Summer days. 
 With their soft sweet breath, and flow- 
 ers fair, 
 That e'en yet lingered when the north 
 wind came, 
 And. laden with frost was the Autumn 
 air. 
 
 Gone are our 'roral gemmed beauties! 
 They faded with the blush of the sum- 
 mer-tide ! 
 Their fallen heads are hidden now 
 
 By a pure white nuuitle spread far and 
 wide. 
 
 The leafless trees stand grim and tall ; 
 
 O, where 's their beauteous array, 
 That shaded the brow of childhood fair 
 
 Through all the golden day? 
 
 Alas ! 't is now low lying ! 
 
 Where their feet were wont to tread. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 165 
 
 Where with eager hands they strayed to 
 pluck 
 Violets bhie from their mossy bed. 
 
 How drear to-day the spot 
 
 Which then was calm, serene, and 
 bright. 
 I'll close my eyes to the sad, sad change, 
 
 For I am grieved at the cruel blight. 
 
 I miss the music of the babbling stream 
 That danced and gleamed in the sun's 
 bright ray; 
 
 I miss the cheer of its merry voice 
 Til is long and wintry day. 
 
 There's a void in my life that can not be 
 filled. 
 For that I loved is banished far; 
 And when I reach, it eludes my grasp, 
 Yet gleams in the distance like a glim- 
 mering star. 
 
 Those we love have closed their eyes. 
 And their lips are tightly sealed. 
 
 They are sleeping ! sweetly sleeping ! 
 But with dewy orbs we yield. 
 
166 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Gone ! 0, whither have they gone ? 
 
 Those who fuded from our sight. 
 Yet their presence sweetly lingers, 
 
 Like the snn's departing light. 
 
 We tliink not of our loved ones, 
 As with icy hands now crossed, 
 
 And a pale white brow like marble, 
 With all its beauty lost. 
 
 But we give to earth her portion, 
 And just Heaven claims her own. 
 
 N^ow each soul, in raiment spotless, 
 Chants sweet praises 'round the throne. 
 
 l^ow we look where beauty lingers 
 
 In the sunset of the west. 
 And we think we see the gateway 
 
 Where have entered the good and 
 blest. 
 
 And they ever beckon, follow^ 
 Onward to the radiant shore ; 
 
 To the world that knows no sorrow, 
 Where the w^eary w^eep no more. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 167 
 
 AIR CASTLES. 
 
 What frail things they are ! Beaiitifal, 
 bright, and glittering ! Yet but a chill- 
 ing breath will send them as a bubble 
 floating awiiy through the air, until they 
 are lost to view, or at once lay them in 
 ruinous piles at our feet. 
 
 Who is there who does not spend some 
 part of his or her time in manufacturing 
 these frail articles? And, 'tis well. 
 Yes, how much better it is for us to look 
 forward to a bright and happy future, 
 which sweet hope prompts us to believe 
 is in store for us, than to be forever fore- 
 boding evil. 
 
 It is seldom mortals reach the goal for 
 which they aim ; and yet how wise in the 
 Creator to enshroud the futnre in mys- 
 tery. For who would have courage to 
 battle through life, did we have our des- 
 tinies laid out in programme before us? 
 For, though life has many charms, there 
 are more thorns than roses, and more 
 clouds than sunshine. 
 
168 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 We are sonietiiiies sinful enough to 
 think, for a moment only, "if we just 
 had our destinies in our keeping, how 
 happy we surely wouUl he." Poor mis- 
 taken creatures ! If such were the case, 
 we would he the most miserable beings 
 under the sun. As it is, we often have 
 occasion to thank our kind Parent that 
 that for which we most wished we did 
 not receive. 
 
 Very often it seems that hap[>incss is 
 within our grasp, wlien something trans- 
 pires to lay waste all our plans. Oh ! 
 how sad it then seems for us to submit to 
 the will of Providence, and see our 
 brightest dreams, our fondest hopes 
 blasted. But, ere loui?, lio^ht comes to 
 our vision, and we see just where we 
 stood, and the danger which o'ershadow- 
 ed us, but, in our blindness, \\q- saw not. 
 How thankful we tlien feel that there is 
 a Divine Being, who knows and plans all 
 things. 
 
 In everv life there is o-oino- on a great 
 contention between the real and the 
 ideal. The latter may conquer to day, 
 but lo-morrow, the strenoth of the former 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 169 
 
 will assert its power, Inyiug its rival low 
 ill the (lust. 
 
 Behold, a bright fairy following every 
 being, pointing onward, beyond the ris- 
 ing vapor, where, in great stateliness, 
 stand bright castles, not reared with 
 hands, but fashioned by dreaming spirits. 
 
 Who are the castle builders? Look 
 around you. Yon see many faces; some 
 happy, some sad, some stern. Each tells 
 its own stor}' ; yet it tells not all. Let us 
 follow tlie guide that stands ready to di- 
 rect us. Let us gaze while he lifts the 
 curtain which veils so much delusive 
 beauty. Behold them at work ! There 
 are the young, the old, the rich, the poor, 
 each with his magical wand touching the 
 vapory clouds, which immediately assume 
 many difterent forms. 
 
 Grand structures rise up before us. 
 Palaces with stately domes. We enter 
 in where banquets are spread, where 
 flowers in golden vases bloom, and fount- 
 ains of gushing water play in the sun- 
 light. But, lo, a chill breath comes from 
 the north ! There is a mighty crash, and 
 all lies in a ruined heap. The dream 
 
170 DAY-DEEAMS. 
 
 has passed, and again we walk in paths 
 where liealify's stern voice coniniands. 
 
 A LOST YEAR. 
 
 I met mild Spring as she tripped along, 
 With flowing garments spread, out 
 wide, 
 
 Coverine: the flelds with verdure brio-ht. 
 Which reached to the far hillside. 
 
 She smiled a pleasant greeting. 
 As I crossed her sunny path ; 
 
 Then I wondered not that Winter had 
 flown 
 With his freezing, icy breath. 
 
 I asked : " 0, tell me, blue-eyed Spring, 
 
 What do you bring to me ? " 
 I'm glad to welcome you again, 
 
 Glad your pleasant smiles to see. 
 
 " I bring the birds from sunny climes. 
 Where they fled from snow and frost ; 
 
 They have a guide through the pathless 
 air, 
 And no birdlins;' e'er is lost. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. ] 71 
 
 " I softly whisper to the flowers, 
 
 And up they spring in Held and grove ; 
 
 The daisies white, and violets blue. 
 
 Strengthened by my warmth and love. 
 
 "I bring mild morns, and pleasant days, 
 
 Go forth and sow thy seed ! 
 That they may spiring in fertile soil, 
 
 And supply thy every need." 
 
 Tlien she hurried on with a quickened 
 pace. 
 For Summer had stepped on her trail, 
 Which she gathered up and hastened 
 away, 
 Kor uttered a sigh or wail. 
 
 Laughing Summer came rushing in, 
 Scattering bright blossoms at my feet. 
 
 Her hair flowed down in sunbeams 
 bright. 
 The nodding grass to meet. 
 
 Her silvery laugh rang through the grove, 
 Where a pleasant brook was babbling 
 loud : 
 
172 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Then a shadow iiassecl o'er lier radiant 
 brow, 
 I looked aud saw a rising cloud. 
 
 Then the raindrops thickly fell, 
 'Mid many a clustering vine, 
 
 That clambered o'er the craggy steeps, 
 Enticed by the bright sunshine. 
 
 " I bring, I bring rich gifts to thee ! " 
 Merrily sang the Summer glad, 
 
 "But Autumn comes to claim mj' place, 
 So I leave, though it makes thee sad." 
 
 Then Autumn, in her gorgeous dress, 
 Walked forth through wood and field, 
 
 Laden with sheaves of golden grain. 
 Of Summer's harvest, .a bountiful 
 jdeld. 
 
 She scattered the bundles far and wide, 
 Where eager ones rushed forth to claim, 
 
 But paused not when she reached my 
 side. 
 For no sheaf bore then my name. 
 
 I opened not my lips to speak. 
 
 As she passed with her mild, sad face, 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 173 
 
 But a fierce cold breath from the oorth- 
 ward blew, 
 As blustering Winter took her place. 
 
 He stole the flowers my hands had 
 plucked, 
 
 Lay every blushing beauty low, 
 But over the hills and dreary fields. 
 
 Threw a mantle of purest snow. 
 
 I waited and watched as I stood alone, 
 Till I heard the midnight chime 
 
 Of many bells, proclaiming aloud 
 The " Old Year's " fast^decline. 
 
 I watched him pass the threshold. 
 As his tresses back he tossed, 
 
 And when I felt his last damp breath, 
 I sighed for the year that was lost. 
 
 YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND 
 TO-MORROW. 
 
 I plucked a stem from a wild rose-bush 
 which grew in beauty by the wayside. 
 Every blossom which our hands touch 
 
174 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 has a lesson to impart, if we but give 
 heed to its low w^hispers. When I walk 
 alone where flowers bloom, they hold 
 sweet communion w-ith me, awakening 
 thoughts that the language of animate 
 beings can not awaken. Therefore, when 
 I pUicked the stem from its mother bush, 
 I was not surprised Vhen it spoke to me 
 in a silent language. 
 
 There were three — I can not say roses 
 — growing side by side, for the petals of 
 one were closed, and fast withering, while 
 the next was full-blown, and when touched 
 by my breath, the polen show^ered down, 
 and lay like golden dust upon the green 
 leaves. The last was but just bursting 
 from its narrow confines, and blushed red 
 as it opened its eyes to the many new 
 scenes. 
 
 " Yesterday, To-day, and To-morrow !" 
 I thought, as I gazed upon my beauties ; 
 for they seemed fit emblems of the same. 
 The withered one seemed like the yast 
 to-days, which we now call the j^ester- 
 days of life. Its perfume seemed even 
 sweeter than the fragrant breath of the 
 others ; and, like the memories of what 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 175 
 
 has been termed " the dead past," it still 
 floated round the fading gem. 
 
 The bright, full-blown rose was the 
 present, to-day ; and the opening bud, to- 
 morrow\ 
 
 Yesterday, to-da}-, and to-morrow ! 
 
 They go linked hand in hand, forming 
 a long chain, the beginning of wbich is 
 lost in the depth of centuries, where 
 Time stands steadily pulling the line, 
 and, as one link disappears, another 
 comes in view. 
 
 To-day we may call oui- own, but what 
 assurance have we that the to-morrow, 
 wbich we have beautifully drawn with 
 the pencil of imagination, upon a filmy 
 canvas, will ever be more to us than the 
 bright ihusion it now is? 
 
 We live not in to-day. 'T is true we 
 are passing through it,, but mind and 
 heart are equally divided between fond 
 dreams of the past, and bright anticipa- 
 tions of the future. To-day would be 
 badly cheated, if she did not step out of 
 the ring and stand in the well-worn 
 path of the past, where we look upon 
 her with admiration. 
 
176 DAT-DREAMS. 
 
 We love to ponder over the works of 
 past generations, and compare them with 
 the works of the present day. We have 
 a veneration for generations antecedent 
 to our own. We feel toward them some- 
 what as the child feels toward a parent 
 or an elder iiulividi.al. We tliink of our 
 country as it wafi a ceutur}' ago, and as it 
 is to-day. What a vast work has been 
 done! And -vve know it took brave 
 hearts and industrious hands to perform 
 the work essential to the ciiange. ITow 
 shall we recompense for the peace, joy, 
 and freedom w^e enjoy to-day dearly pur- 
 chased by others. All we can do is to 
 keep busy heart and hands ; and though 
 to-day our works may seem as naught 
 to us, they are not lost ; and, as the great 
 wheel of time rolls round, the few shin- 
 ing grains may become united, forming 
 a nugget from which a generation may 
 carve some wealth. 
 
 Memory unfolds the scroll of the past, 
 and sets out every deed before our view^ 
 
 Time robs life of many charms, yet 
 memorj' still clings to thenj, refusing to 
 relinquish them to any destroying power. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 177 
 
 'Tis with prkle the mother watches 
 her child creep from babyhood to boy- 
 hood, step from boyhood to youth, and 
 from youth to manhood. And 'tis with 
 pride she listens to the eloquence of his 
 voice, as it utters words of wisdom ; but 
 they drown not the cliildish prattle, 
 wliicli "she still enshrines within her 
 heart. And she still loves to gaze upon 
 the sweet, childish features, which mem- 
 ory holds perfect. 
 
 With some persons, the past is an il- 
 luminated region, elevated to so great au 
 extent as to cast a shade over the face of 
 the present. We even cling closely to 
 the memory of sorrow, which fell with a 
 stinging blight, almost o'eri)Owering us 
 at the time. 
 
 We look eagerly toward the future, as 
 if it were an undiscovered land of prom- 
 ise, lying behind the hills, which shut 
 out its brightness. 
 
 The sun is receding behind the tree-tops. 
 Shadows fall over woodland and plain. 
 To-day gathers her trailing mantle, upon 
 which To-morrow is e'en now treading, 
 and steps upon the threshold of Yesterday 
 
178 DAY-DREAMS, 
 
 TIME'S TABLETS. 
 
 Time's tablets are written over in many 
 quaint and curious characters, some of 
 ■which greatly puzzle the observer while 
 he vainly strives to comprehend. Behold 
 the hands that guide the quill which traces 
 the lines of the sometimes rough, some- 
 times smooth pages ! 
 
 ITow a childish hand eagerly grasps it, 
 and with bright fluid Avrites of sunshine 
 and gladness. 'T is all he knows ; for the 
 little vexations of childhood soon pass 
 away and are forgotten. The page pre- 
 sents a gleaming appearance, and we can 
 easily turn to it by the gilding which 
 masks its edges. Upon it we read of 
 green fields, flowery dells, shady nooks, 
 fairy bowers, and sunny paths. 
 
 We turn the leaf, and our eye is greeted 
 by another, whose brightness seems as a 
 reflection of the first. But the page is 
 more closely written, e'en the margin be- 
 ing occupied; for j^outh's hand is impul- 
 sive and youth's brain productive. Here 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 179 
 
 we a'so read of bright paths, lofty and 
 beautiful purposes; have hope described 
 as a maiden with nzure eyes and golden 
 tresses ; ambition as a brave and daring 
 persontige, wlio conquers all obstacles. 
 But here the fluid must have upset, for 
 great dark blots hide the remaining char- 
 acters, and with curious wonderings we 
 turn to the next page, where manhood's 
 steady hand has traced many facts and 
 stern realities, and told of life as it is. 
 Here we read the charter and title-deed 
 of happiness. So also do we read the dis- 
 appointments and sorrows which are man- 
 kind's legacy. 
 
 Age, witli a palsied hand, has written a 
 review of all we have passed over, closing 
 with a description of the glorious excel- 
 lence of Christianity, the only true refuge. 
 
 WORDS. 
 
 There is power in Avords! The depth 
 of language is fathomless ! The tone of 
 the human voice, like the pleasant show- 
 
180 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 er, can refresh and brigliten, or, like the 
 biting frost of Winter, can blight and lay 
 low. The face tells us much of the char- 
 acter of an individual, but the language 
 tells more. We judge man by the com- 
 panions he seeks, and we also judge him 
 by his conversation. " Where your treas- 
 ure is, there will be your heart also." And 
 Avhere your thouglits are, you will try by 
 words to lead others. The mind is like 
 a vast garden, and the words and acts are 
 the vegetation springing therefrom. If 
 the soil be good, only good productions 
 will be the consequence ; but if it be not 
 good, weeds, thorns, and brambles will 
 put forth and multiply into many. If 
 the thoughts are pure, the language indi- 
 cates such. 
 
 JSTot every one possesses the talent for 
 leading off in a brilliant conversation ; 
 but if we possess a good heart and good 
 common sense, we are capable of con- 
 versing with and interesting the best. 
 
 Sometimes we meet with persons who 
 are, as an old proverb says, "Any way the 
 wind blows." They seem to be always on 
 their guard, fearing some word of theirs 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 181 
 
 may displease. They strive to learn our 
 taste, agreeing with us upon every point. 
 In trying, by this means, to make them- 
 selves very agreeable, they succeed in be- 
 coming rery disagreeable. Ever}- one has 
 his own true belief and opinion upon any 
 subject that maj' come up, and 'tis braver 
 to hold to that belief and defend that 
 cause until circumstances turn the mind 
 in another direction. And yet there are 
 times when 't is better to withliold our 
 opinion, for an old, old sa3'ing, " A still 
 tongue maketh a wise head," has been 
 proven true. But there are times when 
 to keep still would seem coward!}-. Surely 
 he who would stand b}' and hear an ab- 
 sent friend wronged by untrue words, and 
 speak not in defense of that friend, is a 
 coward in every sense of the word. 
 
 When we think of so many homeless, 
 forsaken beings, who dwell here, to whom 
 friends and kindness are strangers, and 
 love is a power unknown; who receive 
 only bitter words and cold rebuffs, we no 
 longer wonder that there are so many 
 sinful deeds being committed every day. 
 
 How careful should we be that none 
 
182 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 but kind words escape our lips, Many 
 bitter tears have been shed in solitude, 
 caused to flow b}' nnkind words or acts 
 from those held dearest and loved best. 
 
 In moments of wrath or excitement, 
 words have been spoken which were as a 
 poison dart sinking into some heart, and 
 leaving its sting forever there. Perhaps 
 'twas one we h)ved best of all who re- 
 ceived the wound which sad regret failed 
 to heal. 
 
 Harsh words wither and cast down, 
 while kind words soothe and build up. 
 
 Then scatter the jewels everywhere, 
 That they may brightly glow, 
 
 And lighten the way for weary ones; 
 Those who naught but sorrow know. 
 
 Scatter the jewels everywliere, 
 The shadows they banish afar; 
 
 And brighten life's darkest moments, 
 Ay, gladden the drearest hour. 
 
 Like "bread upon the water cast," 
 
 Kind words are never lost; 
 Thej' '11 return to thee after many days, 
 
 Though e'en by tempests tossed. 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 183 
 
 SHUT OUT. 
 
 The gate went shut with a sudden slam, 
 And left some standing in the shadows 
 outside ; 
 
 A moment before thej heedless seemed, 
 While the gate was swiiio-ino; wide. 
 
 Now eager hands try in vain to unclose, 
 For the lock that holds is secure, 
 
 And yields not to the anxious one, 
 Who deems his grasp most sure. 
 
 Yes, the gate went shut with a sudden 
 slam, 
 Leaving an echo which can ne'er be 
 lost ; 
 For it sank in souls that relinquish not, 
 But value treasures at their own true 
 cost. 
 
 The gate went shut with a sudden slam. 
 And left us standing in the shadows 
 outside ; 
 
184 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Though a moment before we heedless 
 seemed, 
 "While the gate was swinging wide. 
 
 "We grieve for the blossoms that grow 
 within, 
 Where sunbeams play at morn and 
 noon. 
 The sunbeams from our ^Dath have fled, 
 Because the gate was closed too soon. 
 
 Faces are there that we love e'en more 
 That the}^ 're now veiled from sight; 
 
 And the bar that has fallen between our 
 paths, 
 Seems dark as the shades of night. 
 
 With a sad unrest we pace to-and-fro, 
 By the side of the shadowy wall, 
 
 Which shuts so much of life joys out, 
 As it stands so grim and tall. 
 
 Glimpses we get through the trellised 
 screen ; 
 And we beckon for gleamings afar, 
 Which seem for a moment within our 
 grasp, 
 But Fate cries out, " Debar !" 
 
DAY-DREAMS. 185 
 
 The gate went shut with a sudden slam, 
 
 And we stand alone to-day, 
 And grieve for the cup of sweet content, 
 
 Which from our lips was snatched 
 away. 
 
 There is a path which leads to joy ; 
 
 Be brave then, heart, and never doubt; 
 But foUoAV the beacon which brightly 
 shines. 
 And points to the gate, where the 
 worthy are ne'er shut out. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Beautiful spirit hovering near ; 
 
 Smiling so brightly to give mortals 
 
 cheer ; 
 Speaking so softly in tones full of love, 
 Like echoes that come from far realms 
 
 above. 
 
 Clothed in a garment brighter than day. 
 Scattering sunbeams along the dark way ; 
 
186 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 Lifting from weary ones despondency's 
 
 cloud, 
 Calming the life-storms that rage fierce 
 
 and loud. 
 
 Dropping bright garlands wherever we 
 
 go; 
 
 Giving power in life's conflict to con- 
 quer each foe ; 
 
 Though blindly through darkness to-dny 
 we may grope, 
 
 The morrow will brighten by the sun- 
 shine of Hope. 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 I stand at the river's brink, 
 And gaze o'er waters bright, 
 
 That foam and bubble at my feet, 
 
 And dance and gleam in the sun's fair 
 light. 
 
 I'm watching for ray ship to come. 
 
 That sailed so long ago ; 
 Sailed so proudl}- o'er seething foam, 
 
 In Summer's brightest glow. 
 
DY-DREAMS. 187 
 
 I lieard of the wealth in foreign climes, 
 Where flowers bloom through all th' 
 year, 
 Where the glittering sands are flecked 
 with gold, 
 And diamonds, and crystals clear. 
 
 Oh ! I longed to share of the boundless 
 wealth, 
 
 That my eyes had never seen ; 
 And partake of joys the'd purchase sure, 
 
 AVith their bright and glorious gleam. 
 
 So I built me a castle high in air, 
 
 0, 't was a structure grand, 
 That towered above the loftiest trees ! 
 
 But, alas! 't was built on sand. 
 
 The tide came in and washed the shore, 
 The sand rolled down 'neath waters 
 deep ! 
 
 There was a mighty crash ! I looked. 
 And my castle lay in a ruined heap ! 
 
 I grieved the loss for many a day, 
 But friendly Hope again gave cheer, 
 
 And a well-loved gleam I saw in her eye, 
 As she pointed o'er the waters clear. 
 
188 DAY-DREAMS. 
 
 So I've watched and waited till weary 
 I 've grown, 
 
 The shadows gather, and day is done ; 
 My heart is heavy with waiting so long, 
 
 And I think my ship will never come. 
 
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