i. . u 0ME-7IND m^^^m J/ u'> / 1 :'-H,Vi; 1 y / / ;^[)^-: ^"^:%^^%^^gi I look J- irJQ^?'^ I'liKSlONTCl) liV isat C"'^ h: ^y .^.^j^cx^ fd- ^4^ "u' o^.. '//^ LYRICS OF HOME-LAND THEUE'S A CIIOIK OF IIAPI-Y VOICKS IN THE WOODLANDS SWEETLY SINGING; OUT AMID THE APPLE BLOSSOMS WE CAN HEAR THEM ALL THE DAT AND WITH GLAD AND JOYOUS MUSIC ALL THE LEAFY BOUfiHS ARE RINGING. GATLT SING THE SUMMER SONG BIRDS. HOW WE WONDER WHAT THEY SAT." (Page 09.) LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. BY EUGENE J. HALL. CHICAGO: S. C. GRIGGS AND COMPANY. T5/T71- \Z8I Copyright, 1881, By S. C. GRIGGS & COMPANY. Miss LETiTfA THOMAS AUG- 3. 1^0 I KNISHT Si LEnMATJTT TO IRVING RETTER HALL, MY MERRY LITTLE SON, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. In youth be pure, in manhood strong. Be foremost in the fight, A bitter foe to evert wrong, A constant friend to right. Be brave, mt boy. nor yield, nor fall, And it will be my prayer That the dear Lord, who loves us all, May keep you in his care. PREFACE. LEAVING the old New England farm-house where I was born, I commenced my career, beyond my native hills, by teaching a district school. During that interesting period of my existence it was my pleasure and privilege to sojourn with many families of whose simplicity and hospitality I still cherish kindly remem- brances. I have heard the pattering raindrops and the rattling hail upon the shingles, and have listened to the howling of the winter wind about the great gables and massive chimneys of many old farm-houses. I have slept in the spare bed, behind whose snowy valance the winter's store o£ butternuts was spread to dry. I have chased the highway cow, have labored through long, sultry days in field and meadow, have hunted and fished amid the vernal mountains, have been one of the social group ac- customed to congregate at the village store, and have often sat by the olden time fire-place and heard my share of that small gossip so common in country neighborhoods. I have traveled from town to town, always mingling closely with the people; and I can say, without exaggeration, that, with few exceptions, I have found kindness, benevolence, generosity and good-will wherever I have been; and therefore can affirm, with good reason, that these very excellent qualities are the most prominent characteristics of the average American. To those who have helped and befriended me I desire to publicly express my gratitude, particularly to John M. Retter of Oak Park, Franc B. Wilkie, Judge Mason B. Loomis and Vlll PREFACE. William M. Hoyt, of Chicago, Illinois, who have been true friends to me when friendship was greatly needed. Yankees, so called, have always been represented, in both literature and the drama, as sharp-featured, ungrammatical boors, talking nasal nonsense and making themselves and their country generally ridiculous. Doubtless they are eccentric and peculiar people, but in intelligence and education are second to few, if any, people on earth. The Yankee dialect is agreeable to the ear, and, in the expression of ideas, is compact and comprehensive. It is only in the most isolated places, if indeed anywhere, that anything approaching the " conventionalized " Yankee could be found. It has been my purpose to picture with fidelity the better side of American life, manners and scenery. If I have failed in my undertaking, it is because my eyes have deceived me, or that my pen is powerless to portray the peculiarities of nature, the joys and sorrows of the human heart, the sweet faces and the lovely landscapes I have seen. The following poems may lack grace and beauty, but I have faithfully tried to put a truthful touch of honest nature in them all. Millard Avenue Station, Chicago, III., August 10, 1881. COI^TElSrTS. RUSTIC RHYMES. The House ox the Hill, .-...- 1 The Highway Cow, ..--... 7 Farmer Brown's Dream, . . . . . .11 Deacon Day, __.-._-.. 15 Farmer White, . . . _ _■. . .16 Philander Cole, .-.-.... 10 The Old-Fashioned Doctor, _ . „ . . 25 The Old Parson's Story, ....... 26 Peleg Stow, .-.-.--..29 Susie Rae, ......... 31 Sweet Tone, ......... 35 The Old Garret, _.....- 38 HOME MEMORIES. The Old Fa^m-Gate, ....... 41 The Old Stone Mill, .....-- 43 Goin' fur the Cows, ....... 46 The Village Sexton, ....... 48 The Old School-House, ....... 51 Leetle Jeannie, ........ 52 Your First Sweetheart, . . . . . .54 Days that are no More, ...... 57 Taken Away, 58 Two Leetle Empty Stockin's, .... - 59 BUCOLIC BALLADS. Adoniram and Miranda, . . . . - . .61 Sarah Jane Sylvester, . . .68 A Summer Romance, .74 X CONTENTS. Hawkins an' Mk, 79 Till': A\'ii)I)i:k 13udd, ....-._. 81 Moses Dole, ........ 84 Poppin' Cokx, ......... 88 The Jolly Old BLAtKSMixH, ..... !H) The Achin' Back, ........ O'j My Fathku's Old Scarecroav, ..... Ui Crows in the Corn, ....... Do The Second Wife, . . . . . . . 97 SONGS OF NATURE. Bird Song, -.-...... 99 Summer is Gone, . . . . . . . 101 The Village Bells, ....... 103 The Tiiunderstokm, ....... lO-i The Mountain Stream, . . . . . . .100 O Brightly" Beam, ....... 107 A Winter Song, 108 Song of the AVoodchopper, ... .110 Roll, Waves, Roll, ....... Ill Laughing Song, .--..... 112 Alpena, 113 The Banks of the Mohawk, ..... 115 Softly from the Purple Clouds, ..... 117 SOCIETY SKETCHES. "A Kiss in the Dark," 119 Shadows on the Curtain, ...... 133 A Retrospect, ........ 13G .Rags-nol-Iron, ........ 138 The Workman's Song, ...... 131 The Debating Society, ....... 133 The Yankee Schoolmaster, ..... 141 ILLUSTRATIONS. By T. Moran, W. H. Gibson, F. O. C. Barley, H. Pyle, W. II. Low, C. S. Reiniiart, J. D. Woodward, W. Homer, J. McEntee, A. R Waud, and others. "There's a choir of happy voices in the woodlands SWEETLY SINGING," .... Ffotit Ispiece Island, ........ Title-pa (/e "The weather-worn house on the rrow o' the hill," . 3 "An' rode up an' down thro' 'jiie green rows o' corn," . 5 " Where menny a fallen hero with his faint, expirin' BREATH," .---.... 13 "The stock must re watered an' fed," ... 17 "bizness w'us j5izness, he used to say,". . . .21 "They SLEEP in the silent old churchyard," . . 27 " Labor an' he did disagree," . . . . . .30 "I DREW HER OX MY OLD BLUE SLED An' THO't THE LOAD WUS LIGHT," . . . ...... 33 " She loved to stray- thro' avoodlands gay," . . 37 Olden-time tea-kettle, . . . . . . . 40 "The one brkhit spot in hls fretful way wus his blue- eyed gran'child, leetle May," . . . .45 "Acrost the dark fields from the town the tollin' bell I HEAR," ......... 49 "An' she gayly woke to greet me at the dawn o' day," 53 Waterfall, .........60 XU ILLUSTRATIONS. "While mild Miraxda Merriam avus ix the kitchex spixxix'," ._.-.-_- 63 '*The evexix' dew wus fallix','' ... - 69 '" She "vvus a pretty couxtry girl ez artless ez a dove." T5 ''Amid the shocks o' staxdix' corx," . . . TT '' He'll avatch ax' he'll avait with a patiexce sublime," SO "T'other xight he wus over ter 'Goshex gate,'" . 85 "I'm rough ax' tough, but I hev'x't a care," . . .91 " Ix the corxfield all the day I've dug ax' sweat ax' hoed away," ........ 92 "Johx," ......... 95 Haxgixg birds' xest, . . . . . _ .98 "Dowx the mouxtaixs darkly creepixg," ... 105 " Softly, silextly, white axd fair, floatixg aloxg through the frosty air," ..... 109 "Blow, wixDS, — blow, wixds, — softly o'er the sea," . Ill " GeXTLY, from ax APRIL SKY, FALL THE PEARLY DROPS OF RAix," ......... iir Rock axd briers, ........ 118 "i forgot my owx grief at beholdixg the sight," . lt?3 " ThEX came o'er that CURTAIX XEW forms of DELIGHT," 124 "i see her triumphaxt, i hear her commaxd," . . 125 " His dusky brow was low axd square," . . . 129 "Ox 'Miller's Hill' a faemhouse stood," ... 1-43 "SusAX Stow," . _ . . - _ . . 147 RUSTIC RHYMES. THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. INSCRIBED TO MY MOTHER. FROM the weather-worn liouse on the brow o' the hill We are dwellin' afar, in our manhood, to-day, But we see the old gables an' hollyhocks still, Ez they looked long ago, ere we wandered away; We can see the tall well-sweep that stan's by the door, An' the sunshine that gleams on the old oaken floor. We can hear the sharp creak o' the farm-gate again, An' the loud cacklin' hens in the gray barn near by. With its broad, saggin' floor, with its scaffolds o' grain, An' its rafters that once seemed to reach to the sky; We behold the big beams, an' the " bottomless bay " Where the farm-boys once joyfully jumped on the hay. We can hear the low hum o' the hard-workin' bees At the'r toil in our father's old orchard once more. In the broad, tremblin' tops o' the bright-blooniin' trees, Ez they busily gather the'r sweet, winter store; An' the murmurin' brook, the delightful old horn, An' the cawin' black crows that 're puUin' the corn. LYRICS OF IIOME-LAiS^D. We can see the low hog-pen, jest over the way, An' the long, ruined shed by the side o' the road, Where the sleds in the summer were hidden away, Where the wagons an' plows in the winter were stowed; An' the cider-mill down in the holler below, With a long, creakin' sweep fur the old hoss to draw, Where we larned by the homely old tub long ago Wliat a world o' sweet raptur' there wus in a straw; From the cider-casks there, lyin' loosely around. More leaked from the bung-holes than dripped on tlie ground. We behold the bleak hillsides, still bris'lin' with rocks, Where the mountain streams murmured with musical sound, Where we hunted an' fished, where we chased the red fox With lazy old house-dog or loud-bayin' hound; An' the cold, cheerless woods we delighted to tramp. Fur the shy, whirrin' patridge, in snow to our knees, Where, with neck-yoke an' pails, in the old sugar-camp, We gathered the sap from the tall maple trees; An' the fields where our plows danced a furious jig Ez we wearily follered the furrer all day, Where we stumbled an' bounded o'er boulders so big That it took twenty oxen to draw 'em away: Where we sowed, where we hoed, where we cradled an' mowed. Where we scattered the swaths that were heavy with dew. Where we tumbled, we pitched, an' behind the tall load The broken old bull-rake reluctantly drew. How we grasped the old sheepskin with feelin's o' scorn, Ez we straddled the back o' the old sorrel mare. An' rode up an' down thro' the green rows o' corn. Like a pin on a clo's-line, that sways in the air; RUSTIC RHYMES. ■^JC-^^^-^^ ^'^'-^ ^ "from TIIR WEATIIEU-WORN UOUSE ON THE BROW O" THE UILL WE ARE DWELLIN' AFAR, IN OUR MANHOOD, TODAY." LYKICS OF llOME-LAXD. AVe can hear our stern fathers a scoldin' us still, Ez the careless old creatur' comes down on a hill. AVe are far from the home o' our boyhood to-day, In the battle o' life we are strugg-lin' alone; The weatlicr-worn farm-house hez g-one to decay. The ehiuiblpy hez fallen, its swallers hev ilown, Yet memory brings, on her beautiful wing-s, Her fanciful pictur's again from the past, An' lovin'ly, fondly, an' tenderly ding's To pleasur's an' pastimes too lovely to last. A\'e wander again by the river to-tlay. We sit in the school-room, o^erllowin"' with fun, "\Vc whisper, we play, an' we scamper away When the lessons are larned an' the spellin' is done. We see the old cellar where apjiles were kept. The g'arret where all the old rubbish wus thrown, The leetle back chamber where snugly we slept, The homely old kitchen, the broad hearth o' stone Wheie ap]>les were roasted in menny a row, \Vliere our grandmothers nodded an' knit long- ag'O. Our gran'mothers long hev reposed in the tomb, — With a strong-, healthy race they hev peopled the land,- They Avorked with the spindle, they toiled at the loom, Nor lazily broug-ht up the'r babies by hand. The old ilint-lock nuisket, whose awful recoil Made menny a Nimrod with agony cry. Once hung- on the chimbley, a part o' the spoil Our gallyant old g-ran'fathers captur'd at "Ti," — RUSTIC RHYMES. 'AN' RODE UP AN' noWN Tnno' THE GREEN ROWS O' CORN, LIKE A PIN ON A CLO"s-HNE, THAT SWATS IN THE AIR.'' LYRICS OF HOMELAND. Brave men were our grandfathers, sturdy an' strong, The kings o' the forest they chopped from the'r lands, They were stern in theV virtu's, they liated all wrong. An' they fought fur the right with the'r hearts an' the'r hands; Down, down from the hillsides they swept in the'r might, An' up from the hollers they went on the'r way. To fight an' to fall upon Hubbardton's height. To struggle an' conquer in Bennin'ton's fray O! fresh be the'r memory, cherished the sod That long hez grown green o'er the'r sacred remains, An' grateful our hearts to a generous God Fur the blood an' the spirit that flows in our veins. Our Aliens, our Starks, an' our Warners 're gone. But our mountains remain with the'r evergreen crown; The souls o' our heroes 're yet marchin' on, — The structures they founded shall never go down. From the weather-worn house on the brow o' the hill We are dwellin' afar, in our manhood, to-day; But we see the old gables an' hollyhocks still, Ez they looked when we left 'em to wander away. But the ones that we loved, in the sweet long-ago, In the old village churchyard sleep under the snow. Farewell to the friends o' our bright boyhood days. To the beautiful vales once delightful to roam. To the fathers, the mothers, now gone from our gaze, *" From the weather-worn house to the'r heavenly liome, Where they wait, where they watch, an' will welcome us still Ez they waited an' watched in the house on the hill. THE HIGHWAY COW. rnn IIE best o' bein's will hev the'r cares, -*- There's alwus sumpthin' to cross our way, To worry an' fret us in our affairs. An' sech wus the lot o' old Deacon Day. He hed his trials: I'll tell you how He wus tempted an' tried by a highway cow. The hue o' her hide wus a dusky brown. Her body wus lean an' her neck wus slim, One horn turned up, an' the other down. She wus sharp in sight an' wus long in limb, With a peaked nose, with a stumpy tail. An' ribs like the hoops on a home-made pail. Menny a mark did her body bear, — She hed been a target fur all things known, — On menny a scar the dingy hair Would grow no more ez it once hed grown. Menny a pebble, shied an' shot, Hed left upon her a lastin' spot. Menny a cudgel an' menny a stone. An' menny a brick-bat o' goodly size, An' menny a 'tater swiftly thrown LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Heel brouglit the tears to her tarnal eyes, Or hed bounded off 'm lier bony back With a noise like the ring o' a rifle-crack. Menny a day hed she passed in pound, Fur slyly helpin' herself to corn, Menny a cowardly cur an' hound Hed been transfixed by her crumpled horn; Menny a tea-pot an' old tin-pail Hed the fann-boys tied to her old stump tail. Old Deacon Day wus a pious man, A frugal farmer, upright an' plain, An' menny a weary mile he ran To drive her out o' his growin' grain. Sharp were the pranks that she used to play To get her fill an' to get away. He used to sit on the Sabbath day. With his open Bible upon his knee, Thinkin' o' loved ones far away In the Better Land, that he longed to see. When a distant beller, borne thro' the air, W^ould bring him back to this world o' care. When the Deacon went to his church in town She watched an' waited till he went by. He never passed her without a frown, An' an evil gleam in each angry eye; He would crack his whip an' would holler, " Whay ! " Ez he drove along in his one-hoss shay. RUSTIC RHYMES. Then at his homestead she loved to call, Iviftin' his bars with her crumpled horn, Nimbly scalin' his garden wall, Helpin' herself to his standin' corn, Eatin' his cabbages one by one, Scamperin' off when her meal wus done. Of 'en the Deacon homeward came, Hummin' a hymn, from the house o' prayer, His good old heart in a trankil frame, His soul ez calm ez the evenin' air. His forehead smooth ez a well-worn plow, To find in his garden that highway cow. His human pashuns Avere quick to rise, An' stridin' forth with a savage cry, With fury blazin' from both his eyes Ez lightnin's flash in a summer sky, Redder an' redder his face would grow, An' after the creatur' he Avould go. Over his garden, round an' round, Breakin' his pear an' his apple trees, Trampin' his melons into the ground, Tippin' over his hives o' bees, Leavin' him angry an' badly stung, Wishin' the old cow's neck wus wi-ung. The mosses grew^ on the garden wall, The years went by, witli the'r work an' play, The boys o' the village grew strong an' tall. 10 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. An' the gray-haired farmers dropped away, One by one, ez the red leaves fall, But the higlnvay cow outlived 'em all. The things we hate are the last to fade; Some cares are lengthened to meiniy years; The death o' the wicked seems long delayed, But there is a climax to all careers, An' the highway cow at last wus slain In runnin' a race with a railway train. All into pieces at once she went. Jest like savin's banks when they fail, Out o' the world she wus swiftly sent, — Leetle wus left but her old stto/ij) fail. The farmer's gardens an' corn-fields now Are haunted no more by the highway cow. i>i^^uish I seemed to lie, With notliin' overhead fur shelter, on a pile o' moldy liav, A\'ith hundreds around me starvin' an' dyin' day by day. A\ e were tortured beyond endurance, wliile Hoholp'eiu/s stood by, AVho gloated upon our agony an' smiled to see us die. Hannah, T woke from my awful dream, with the cold sweat on my bi'ow. An' 1 thank the T.okj^ with all my soul that the War is over now; That over our country, everywhere, the old Hag yet remains; That the millions are free from bondage who once were held in chains. Under the wavin' Southern pines my fallen conn-ades sleep, Down in the darksome triMiches, in nuMinv a molderin' h(>ap, An' beautiful winnnin scatter Howers, on Decoration-Da v. Over the dust o' the boys in blue an' the bones o' the boys in gray. DEACON DAY„ rr^HE church liez been an' voted straight, ag-in my voice an' views, To put a carpet on the floor an' quishuns in the pews. I've been a deacon, true an' square, fur twenty years or more. An' never yet hev seen no need o' carpetin' the floor. I've helped to build the old church up, an' I hev done my share To feed its preacher every year an' keep it in repair. I've took my place each Sabbath day, contented ez could be, An' I hev alwus found my seat wus soft enough fur me. I've of'en found myself obleeged to give my boys a shake, To make 'em mind the preacher's text an' keep 'emselves awake. But when they get the carpets down an' stuffin' in each pew, We'll all o' us begin to snore afore the sarmon's through. The stoves '11 soon be pitched aside, to hev a furniss fire. They'll vote to hev a vestybule, an' orgin in the choir. But when they get the'r fixin's in, an' gewgaws on the door, I'll never feel to home again ez I hev felt afore. 15 FARMER WHITE. ~V7"0U may talk o' the joys o' the farmer, -^ An' envy his free, easy life; You may sit at his bountiful table, An' praise his industrious wife. Ef you chopped in the woods in the winter. Or follered the furrer all day With a team o' unruly young- oxen An' feet heavy loaded with clay; Ef you held the old plow, I'm a thinkin' You'd sing in a different way. You may dream o' the golden- eyed daisies An' lilies, that wear sech a charm; But it gives me a heap o' hard labor To keep 'em from sp'ilin' my farm. You may pictur' the skies in the'r splendor. The landscapes so full o' repose. But I never get time to look at 'em Except when it rains or it snows. You may sing o' the song birds o' summer; I'll 'tend to the hawks an' the crows. You may write o' the beauties o' natur', An' dwell on the pleasur's o' toil; But the good things we hev on our table All hev to be dug from the soil; RU8TIC IMIYMES. 17 An' our beautiful, bright, golden butter, Perhaps you may never hev larned, Makes a heap o' hard work fur the wimniin; It hez to be cheerfully churned, An' the cheeses, so plump in our j^antry, All hev to be lifted an' turned. " THE STOCK MUST BE WATEUED AN' FED." When I come from the hay-field in summer, "With stars gleamin' over my head. When I milk by the light o' my lantern, An' wearily crawl into bed. When I think o' the work o' the morrer. An' worry, fur fear it might rain, 18 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. When 1 hear the loud roar o' the tluinder, An' wife slie beo-iiis to eoiuplaiii. — Then it seems ez if life wus a burden, "With nothin' to hope fur or gain. But the ecn-n must be planted in sprino'time. The weeds must be kep' from the ground, "While tlie hay must be cut in the sunnner. The wheat must be cradled an' bound; Fur we never are out o* employment. Except when we lie in the bed; We must chop ail our wood in the winter, An' pile it away in the shed. An' the crops nuist be taken to market. The stock nuist be watered an' i'cil. You may envy the joys o' the farmer. Who works like a slave fur his bread, Or niebbe to pay oft' a mor'gage That hangs like a cloud o'er his head. You may gaze at his corn-fields an' meaders, Nor think o' his wants an' his needs. You may sit in the shade o' the orchard. An' long fur the life that he leads; But you'd tind leetle comfort or pleasur' In iio-htin' the buc-s an' the weeds. PHILANDER COLE. A KiCII old iiiuii wus I'hilaiKK'i' Cole, With an iron heart, an' a sordid soul; 1 Ic wus a miserly crcatur'. lie would stay to home on the Sabbatli day; The rent o' a pew he wouldn't pay, Nor help to supi)ort the i)ieacher. "Biznesswus bi/.n(>ss," he used to say; "An' ])eople who went in debt nntst pay ; Or why should they want to borror?" lie s(|ueezed his victuius, he (U'uslicd the'r pride, The widder wept an' the oi'phan ci'ied, But he heeded not the'r soi'rer. What wer(> tears 1o Philander Colo? The love fur his money Idled his send, ^ iVn' no matt(!r how he made it. He oidy tho't o' the o-old lie lent, He only smiled at a bi<>- ))(>r-cent, An' laugh(;d when his victums j)aid it. His hair wus white ez the winter's snow; An', thro' his stingy okl soul below, A hundred deep schemes were ruiniin'. 20 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. His look wus shabby, his clo's were mean, His face wus thin, but his eyes were keen, An' the'r gaze wus sharp an'' cunnin'. His tall, white hat, o' a euris style, Wus enough to make a mourner smile, Coz it looked so odd an' funny. Yet hid from sight, in its queer old crown, Wus wealth enough fur to buy the town, Hed it only been in money. He carried his notes an' papers there, An' menny a sound an' solid share In railroads, bankin' an' minin'. An' all o' his neighbors tho't o' that With great respect fur his old white hat, Or ruther its costly linin'. He lived alone, in a mean abode, A house remote from the old stage-road, In a lonesum situation. A dozen o' spindlin' popple trees Jest helped a leetle to break the breeze, An' hide it from observation. The robins returned, with songs o' cheer. An' the wrens an' swallers built, each 3'ear, The'r nests in the narrer gables. To the mossy eave-troughs, rudely hung, The grizzled old grape vines closely clung Like a lot o' stranded cables. RUSTIC RHYMES. 21 From the cottage roof, decayed an' steep, The rain ran down to a cistern deep, In muggy an' stormy weather; Where a family o' croakin' frogs, An' a thousand leetle pollywogs, In harmony lived together. " ' BIZNESS WUS BIZNESS,' HE USED TO SAY; ' an' people who went in DEBT MUST PAY.' But trouble came to Philander Cole, That tried his temper an' saved his soul — Fur " Fortune " hez some strange capers. 22 LYRICS OF IIOME-LxVND. ♦ While drawin' water, one luckless day, He dropt his hat, to his great dismay, With all o' his precious papers. Off from his head, like a gleam o' light, Downward it sank from his anxious sight — O ! how his papers did scatter Amid the sticks an' among' tlie frogs, Wakin' the wigglers an' pollywogs. That wondered what wus the matter. Ah ! what did those slimy creatur's care Fur the wealth so widely scattered there. Fur they all could live without it. Soon on the rim o' the old white hat, A speckled old frog- in comfort sat, While he croaked to his friends about it. Philander Cole, with an anxious look. Fished fur his wealth with a cistern hook, 'Twus a sorry occupation. Fur reachin' too far, O ! sad to tell, He lost his balance an' in he fell. With an aioful imprecation ! A fearful cry, a splash an' a groan, A gurgle, a shriek, in an awful tone, An' no one wus near to save him. He floundered among the frightened frogs; He grasped at the slimy sticks an' logs, But small wus the help they gave him. RUSTIC RHYMES. 23 How sweet is life, an' with what strange fear We come to the close o' our odd career, — It puts us to g-ravely thinkin'. The drownin' man, with a dyin' clasp, At the frailest straws will wildly grasp To hender himself from sinkiti'. Afore the mind o' Philander Cole A_ thousand memories seemed to roll, Ez the water settled o'er him; He tho't o' his useless life o' greed; O' the orphans wronged, in the'r helpless need, — Like a dream all passed afore him. Up to his chin the water rose; Then he touched the bottom, vrith his toes! With wondrous gratification. While under his nose were note an' bond. The wealth o' which he hed been so fond, N'oto what wus its valuation ? It floated around an' seemed to show The folly o' trustin' to things below, Ez the hope o' life wus failin'. "I will give it all," he cried, "to climb Out o' -this murky an' awful slime" — His offer wus unavailin'. There in the water he shoutin' stood, Till the sun went down beyond the wood, An' he heard the night-birds cryin'. 24 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. He saw the gleam o' the fadin' clay, On the clouds above, an' tried to pnn/, Fur he felt that he wus dyin'. There is wondrous power in airnest prayer, Fur souls that struggle in wild despair, In a hopeless situation. When all man's efforts cannot prevail, The Haxd fkom Heaven can never fail That fashioned the wliole creation. Within the water the miser stood, Shoutin' fur help, ez loud cz he could, AA'ith mor'gages floatin' round him; "S^'hon, providentially passin' by, A neighbor barkened an' heard his cry, An' down in the cistern found him. He saved the life o' Philander Cole, An' helped to succor his sinful soul From a far more fatal disaster; Fur, from that terrible summer day, His wealth to the needy he gave away An' his heart to his Heavenly Master. A kindlier look his featur's wore; His way wus brighter than 'twus afore, The skies seemed fairer above liim. An', when it wus whispered he wus " dead," INIenny a sorrerful tear wus shed, Fur all hed larned to love him. THE OLD-FASHIONED DOCTOR. rriHERE liGz been a great change in our j^ractis, I know, -*- Sence the day when I took my degree; There are new-fangled things that hev managed to grow Till they've got to be frightful to see. They declare the old systum hez gone to decay, Tliat my formulis all hev been wrong; An' they hint that I'd better git out o' the way That the dosis I give are too strong. I hev doctored the sick, I hev watched with the ill, There are thousands I've physicked an' bled; Were they livin', to-day, they would brag o' my skill. But, I'm sorry to say, they are dead. Yet I of 'en hev cured 'em, an' I would engage, That were all to come back from the grave, They would willin'ly tell you they died o' old age. An' not from the dosis I gave. There are some folks I know, in this fault findin' clime, Who will speak o' my skill with a sneer; Ef I hadn't been round, at a critical time, I'm sartin they wouldn't be here. There hev been many changes, ez sure ez I live, Sence the time when I took my degree. But the weak leetle pills an' the powders they give All look mighty onsartin to me. 25 ^ THE OLD PABSON'S STORY. rpHEY say I am "old an' furjretful; " ■'- My style is ez " slo\v ez a snail;" My doctrines are "all out o' fashion;" My mind is " beginnin' to fail." They want a more flowery preacher, More full o' furgiveness an' love, To talk to 'em less about brimstone, An' more o' the mansions above. Fur fifty long years I've been preachin'; I've studied my old Bible well. I alwus hev felt it my duty To show all the horrors o' hell. Perhaps I've been wrong in my notions; I've follered the scriptur's, I know. An' never hev knowin'ly broken The vows that I took long ago. ' I've seen menny trials an' changes, I've fouo;ht a g-ood fic^ht a2:in' wrons:. The girls hev all got to be wimmin. The boys hev grown manly an' strong. My honest old deacons hev vanished, The'r pure lives hev come to a close. They sleep in the silent old churchyard, Where soon I shall lie in repose, 26 RUSTIC IIHYMES. 27 My flock hez been alwus complainin' The church wus not rightly arranged; They voted to hev a high steeple, The gallery hed to be changed; " THET SLEEP IN TOE SILENT OLD CHURCHTARD, WIIERE SOON I SUALL LIE IN REPOSE." They built up a fanciful vestry, They bought the best orgin in town, They chopped the old pews into kindlin's, An' tumbled the tall pulpit down. 28 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. An' now, to my pain an' my sorrer, They say, " the old parson must go y " I know I am childish an' feeble. My steps are unstiddy an' slow. They want " a more spirited speaker," I'm told the new deacons hev said, " To dance round the platform an' holler, An' Avake up the souls that are dead." I try to believe that what happens Will alwus come out fur the best. They tell me my labor is "ended," " Tis time I wus takin' a rest." I've leetle o' comfort or riches, (I'm sartin my conscience is clear) An' when, in the churchyard, I'm sleepin', Perhaps they may wish I wus here. PELEG STOW. OTRONG an' healthy, but alwus slow, ^^ Large an' lazy wus Peleg Stow: — Labor an' he Did disagree; Why he should worry he couldn't see. The tall, thick weeds in his garden grew,- His wants were menny, his comforts few; Leetle he made, — He hed no trade, All' borrered money he never paid. While others labored, he calmly slept; While others hurried, he humbly crept; An' he seemed inclined To be left behind In the journey o' life by all his kind. He hed no manhood, he hed no pride; His fond wife faded, his childern died; An' the whole world said They were better dead Than livin' the pitiful life they led. 29 80 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Friendless he lived, an' when broken down, Became a burden upon the town: He lived in vain, He died in pain, An object o' pity an' just disdain. LABOR AN HE DID DISAGREE." Yet menny will live in sloth an' ease, Till out at the elbows an' the knees; The'r means will sjiend, An' in the end, Will o-o to tlie o-rav^ without a friend. SUSIE BAR IONG' years hev come an' gone, dear Tom, -^ Sence you an' I were boys; Sence we together went to school An' fussed about our toys. The old brick school-house yet remains, With whittled seats, its halls Still bear our badly written names Upon the'r scribbled walls. The master long- hez passed away, — Ah, menny a care hed he; — No more we laugh at his old tales " With counterfeited glee," How stern he wus, how fierce liis frown. And yet his heart wus kind; The lessons that I larned from him Hev never left my mind. I see him yet, a grave old man, With wise an' knowin' look. Still tightly holdin' in his hand His ferule an' his book. 31 32 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. I still kin hear my mother sigh O'er muddy clo's, an' rents Torn in my trowse's, when we jjlaj^ed At " see-saw " on the fence. The old white church; the mossy mill Beside the waterfall; *■ The pastur' lot upon the hill; The chipmucks in the Avail; The shady bank beside the stream; The pebbles on the shore; All pass before me like a dream, An' make me young- once more. My leetle sweetheart, Susie Rae, Is now a woman grown. She hez her share o' earthly care An' ehildern o' her own. How of'en to her humble home. Thro' snowdrifts, deep an' Avhite, I drew her on my old blue sled, An' tho't the load wiis light. You, Tom, were jealous o' me then. But that wus long ago. Our youthful feuds an' enmities Hev melted like the snow. RUSTIC RHYMES. 33 With envious eyes 1 used to see Your clothin' new an' fine, But what wus your disdain to me, When her young heart wus mine. '■ 1 drew her on my old blue sled, an' tho't the load wus light." I cared not fur the stones you threw, W^hen, passin' your abode, I rode the old white hoss to drink, Adown the " old stage-road." I tho't o' leetle but o' her, An" o' her pretty ways; Fur she wus all the world to me. In those bright boyhood days. 34 LYKIOS OF HOME-LAND. Till' birds saiii;: sweetly in the lane, The s(iuin''ls ran iiiinhly bv; All' this wide world did not contain A happier boy than I. Alas! 'twus but a boyish dream, How soon the old love died. But oh! how sweet it used to seem, To hev her by my side. " It iniojit hev been f what tho'ts are these, Fur husbands or t'ur wives. What leetle sareunistanees form An' fashion all our lives. SWEET rONE. TF ever ill (liis wc^jiry world -■- A lovely .yiil I knew, Whose eyes were liriojit c/. nioriiin' li^lit Upon tlie spiirkiirr dew; Whose cheeks were like (he criiiisoii (lush I poll ;i rose (ull-lilown, Wlios(j lioart WHS kind ez one could find, 'Twus sweet lone. She lied ;i pair o' cherry lips, 'I'liat optuHul to disclose Two pn^tty rows o' pc^arly (ec^lli, IJeneath her leelle nose. Ef cvvr voi(;(! WHS sweef to hear, It WHS the tciiider tone Oft in my ear breathed Icjw an' chiar, By sweet lone. She hed the fitirest leetle h;inds ( )' eny <^\v\ in (own, She hed ii slender p;iir stray thro' woodlaiuls i^'ay, An' hknkUms htlhmi aiT lair, \\'hi'i(> daisies sweet earessetl lier I'eet, AiT sunheains kissed lier hair. To her (lie woHd wus lull o' joy, AiT sorrer wus unknown, llci- heart wus pure, her faith wus sure: .\ii, sweet lone! Alia in I (hvani, 1 fondly seem 11 ei' fail' youn<;' face to see; Tho' she is fathnl, old an' yray, An' far away from me. Mv ho[)es hev iled, my faith is dead, Mv youthful llanie he/, ilown, An' yet, at will, 1 see her still: Sweet vouni>- lone. ^^P^Jl' " Bill I l)\ I i> r;e hill, Mossy an' g'ray, stands the (jld stone mill; With its sagg-in' roof; its rottin' fhune; Its crcakin' wheel an' its dusty room, Groir, the miller, vvus old an' <2;ray; He'd a heart o' flint, an' a surly way; His eyes were sunken; his nose wus red, An' the hair like brussles upon his head; His wrinkled featur's were dark an' grim, An' he hated the world ez it hated him. The one brig-Jit spot, in his fretful way, Wus his blue-eyed g-ran'child, leetle May, An' a love fur her, sincere an' true, Wus the only virtu' the old man knew. The fairest flow'rs, that the world hez known. In the meanest places hev of'en frrown; The sweetest blossoms, o' all the year. May soonest wither an' disappear. 44 LYRICS OF IIOME-LxVND. The days went by, with the'r work an' care, The summer roses bloomed fresh an' fair, An' the winds o' autumn tossed an' whirled The leaves o' the woodland about the world, An' the river ran by the old stone mill. But the gate wus down an' the wheel stood still, While the village childern sadly said: "The miller is gone an' the child is dead." The weepin' willers again are green; The summer days are once more serene; Mossy an' gray, stands the old stone mill, Down at the foot o' the village hill; But the miller sits in the doorway, there, With a kinder look than he used to wear; Fur care an' sorrer hev left the'r trace In the lines an' wrinkles upon his face; They hev sof'ened his iron heart an' will. That were hard ez the stones in his rumblin' mill. He gently turns, in his pain an' grief. To his Heavenly Father to find relief. HOME MEMORIES. 45 His wounds seem healed by a blessed balm, His soul seems filled with a holy calm, Ez he tells the childern, who come that way, O' the wondrous beauty o' leetle May. "the one bright spot, in his fretful WAT, WUS HIS BLUE-EYED GRAN'CHILD, LEETLE MAT." GOIN' VVn TTTE COWS. ryiinO wostcrn sky wus all aiilow With I'loiuls o' rod an' <>-rav: The cricki'ts in the ^Tassy fields Were chirpin'' merrily; "Wlu'ii up the lane, an' oVr the hill, 1 saw a maiden roam, Who went her way at elose o' da}'^ To eall th(> cattle home: " Co noss, CO boss, Co Hoss, CO boss, Come home, come home." The echo o' her eharmin' voice K'estnuided thro' the vale; It linoHM-ed on the evenin' air. It iloated on the g-ale, 'Twiis borne alonii- the mountain side, It drifted thro' the glen. It dieil away among the hills Far from the haunts o' men: " Co BOSS, CO boss, Co BOSS, CO boss, CoMK iioMK, come home." 46 HOME MEMORIES. licr faco wus (lusliod with hues o' health, Iler arms an' feet were bare, She hed a lithe an' active form, A wealth o' ebon hair. Beyond the hills she passed from slight, Ez sinks an evenin' star. Until her voice wus faintly heard Still callin' from afar: " Co BOSS, CO boss, Co BOSS, CO boss. Come home, come home." Soon o'er the grassy knoll appeared The cattle, red an' brown. An' from the pastur' to the lane Came (|uickly trottin' down. With sparklin' eyes, an' cheeks aalow, Returned the maiden gay, Who waved her arms an' shouted low: " NVnAY nossi wiiay boss! <> whay!" " \\'iiAV lioss! whay boss! Whav I!oss! whay boss! O wiiAv! O whay! 47 tt£/^ THE VILLAGE SEXTON. rriHE day is done, the sun is down, -*- The dismal night is drawin' near, Acrost the dark fields, from the town, The tollin' bell I hear. Another soul hez passed away. Another heart will beat no more; The village sexton died to-day, His hvimble life is o'er. The hands that tolled the bell so long Are folded on hisjifeless breast; He soon must lie amid the throng He helped to lay at rest. His hair wus gray, his form wus spare, He hed a grave an' solem' mien; An' mid its menny lines o' care No trace o' mirth wus seen. A rusty suit o' black he wore; Each Sabbath morn he used to stand Behind the ancient entry door, — The bell-rope in his hand. 48 HOME ME ]\1 OKIES. 4:9 He rang the merry marriage bell, To greet with hope the blushin' bride; He tolled the slow an' solem' knell When dearly loved ones died. ■ ACROST THE DARK FIELDS, FROM THE TOWN, THE TOLLIN' BELL I HEAR." When winter winds blew keen an' shrill, When summer roses were in bloom, He drove the dark hearse o'er the hill That bore 'em to the tomb. 4 50 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. The bell will toll, he oft' hez tolled, An' worldly customs be the same, An' other hands will heap the mold Above his lifeless frame. We all must die, 'tis vain to weep, The proud, the poor alike must fall; Beneath the sod we soon must sleep. The Reaper claims us all! THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. I SEE the old red school-house still Upon the summit o' the hill, In golden sunsliine glowin'; I see the shady woodlands near, The murmurin' brook once more 1 hear Adown the hillside flowin'. I jine the group o' merry boys That round the yard with deaf'nin' noise An' laughter loud are boundin'; I list'n to the restless din Amid the whittled desks, within The homely schoolroom soundin'. We stand in line upon the floor, We read, recite, an' spell once more, — Our souls in song seem blended; Our hearts o'erflow with mirth an' fun, We grasp our pails an' homeward run, When all our tasks are ended. "How like a bright an' happy dream The sunny hours o' boyhood seem," — How clear from clouds above us; How soon to manhood we hev grown. To fight the way o' life alone, — How few we find to love us I 51 LEETLE JEANNIE. YEARS hev gone sence blue-eyed Jeannie Knelt beside her leetle cliiiii', An' her rosy face upturnin' Lisped her childish prayer. *' Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me, Bless thy leetle lambs to ni<>'ht; Thro' the darkness, be thou near me. Guard me till the mornin'' light." Never yet wus silence broken, By a sound more sweet to hear, Never words more gently spoken. Fell upon my ear. II. Once, with joy, she ran to meet me, When I went my homeward way, An' she gayly woke to greet me. At the dawn o' day. Now 1 hear her voice no longer, Softly lispin', sweet an' low, "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me"; It wus hushed long years ago. By a leetle marble gravestone, Oft' with tearful eyes I stand, An' I think o' leetle Jeannie, In the Better Land. 52 IIOMK MEM0EIE8. 63 " BIIK OAYLY WOKK TO GBEET MI AT THE DAWN ()' DAY." YOUR FIRST SWEETHEART. SHE seemed in your boyhood ez pure an' fair Ez a snow-flake floatin' a-down the air, An' every time you passed her You hung your head ez you hurried by, It made you tremble to hev her nigh, In the tender gaze o' her azure eye Your glad young heart beat faster. Her voice vpus musical to your ear. Her joyous laughter you loved to hear, An' whWe you looked an' lis'ened You saw her beautiful golden curls, The envy o' all the other girls, Her cheeks were red an' the teeth like pearls That in her sweet mouth glis'ened. In the deestrict schoolroom you loved to look At her fair young face o'er your thumb-worn book,- How sweet an' good you tho't her; When the teacher turned his back awhile It made you happy to see her smile Ez you slyly handed acrost the aisle The apples you hed brought her. 54 HOME MEMORIES. 55 She said she loved you. You proudly smiled, An' even fancied, tho' but a child, You couldn't live without her; Yew were the words that you shyly said Ez you drew her home upon your sled; You ate your supper an' went to bed. An' dreamed all night about her. You, blushin', kissed her ez she went by, When the girls an' boys played " needle's-eye " At Elder Green's "donation"; An' shortly after, upon the stairs. You saw her flirtin' with Isaac Ayers, You wished "he'd tend to his own affairs," You felt a sad sensation. You grew to manhood an' left the town. She married a farmer an' settled down: Your lives were never blended; You toil'd an' struggled fur wealth an' fame, An' both o' those worldly blessin's came, An' after menny a fleetin' flame Your youthful romance ended. You married, at last, a worldly wife. An' changes came in your busy life That left some sober traces; Your childern clambered about your chair, — An' weren't you happy to hev 'em there? No other childern seemed half ez fair, — You smiled at the'r glad faces. 56 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Your form is bent an' your hair is gray, Your leetle sweetheart hez passed away, — 'Tis years sence last you parted; Fur time hez changed you, the years hev fled, An' t'other day, when you slowly read In your mornin' paper she wits dead, With sad supprise you started. You dropped your paper upon the floor, You wandered again by the river's shore, In the midst o' mem'ry's wildwood; How few there are in this world o' ours Who marry the love o' the'r boyhood hours ! Yet where in the'r way bloom brighter flowers Than blossoms that bloomed in childhood ? DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE. -XTTT-HEN menny years hev rolled away, VV When we no more are young, When other voices may repeat The songs that we hev sung, When all your youthful beauty fades, That Time will not restore, Some tender tho'ts may come again 0' days that are no more. The soul but slumbers to awake Alike to joy an' pain; An' ev'ry holy tho't an' dream Are sure to come again. The youthful heart, untouched by Time, Will dream o' days afore. The old heart lives on memories O' days that are no more. There is a Better Land to come; Its gateway is the tomb. — O ! may we meet our loved ones there, Beyond the hidden gloom. How peaceful is the sleep o' Death, Fur, thro' his silent door. The weary woe will never come O' days that are No More. 57 TAKEN AWAY. TWO limp leetlo hands, on an iiniocent breast, O'er a heart that is still an' furever at rest; Two cold leetle feet, that will ne'er go astray, An' a soul that the angels hev taken away, — Taken away, taken away, Taken by angels away. The touch o' your fingers we never may feel, Nor hear your sweet voice in a plaintive appeal; Our hearts are a-weary an' dreary to-day: We long fur the love that is taken away, — Taken away, taken away, Taken by angels away. Your bright eyes are closed, we may harkon no more To the sound o' your patterin' feet on the floor. Nor list' to your laughter, nor watch you at play, The angels hev taken our darlin' away, — Taken away, taken away, Taken by angels away. 58 TWO LEETLE EMPTY STOCKIN'S. rriWO leetle empty stockiii's hang -'- Behind the kitchen door; Two leetle pairs o' shoes are thrown Upon the farmhouse floor. The leetle feet, that all day long Hev scarcely stopped the'r tread, Hev pattered up the stairs to rest. An' now are snug in bed. Two leetle pairs o' shoes are thrown Upon the attic floor; The feet that wore 'em, long ago, Will never wear 'em more. One pair o' leetle feet hev gone To walk a foreign pave. The other pair o' leetle feet Are quiet in the grave. 60 BUCOLIC BALLADS. ADONIRAM AND MIRANDA. I. BEHIND a range o' wooded hills, That hid it from the highway, A low, old-fashioned farm-house stood, Beside a leetle by-way. With mornin' glories by the door, In purple beauty glowin'; An' near at hand, with rush an' roar, A mountain torrent flowin'. Where bobolinks an' robins sang The'r glad songs, sweet an' winnin' While mild Miranda Merriam Was in the kitchen spinnin'. She hed a han'some head o' hair; Her eyes were bright an' jetty; Her lips were red, her face wus fair, Her arms were plump an' pretty. 61 62 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Her soul wus innocent an' pure, Her young heart free from sorrer, An', singin' like a summer bird, She tho't not o' the morrer. In perfect peace upon the floor. The old gray cat wus sleepin'; A lot o' goslin's 'round the door. With wistful looks, stood peepin'. About the old brown barn, near by, A flock o' doves wus fiyin', An' in the yard were cacklin' hens An' peacocks loudly cryin'. While round an' round, with whirrin' sound, Miranda's wheel wus hummin', Way down the hill she hoped to see Her city lover comin'. Tho' rustic lovers so't her hand, She alwus proudly shunned 'em, She gazed upon the circlin' hills An' longed to live beyond 'em. How menny look with envious eyes Beyond the hills that bound 'em. How few are ever satisfied With fashions that surround 'em. BUCOLIC BALLADS. 63 64 LY'fllCS OF HOME-LAND. II. The sun wus sinkin' in the west, The village bells were tollin', Ez thro' Tom Plurnsted's pastur' lot A slender youth wus strollin'. His clo's were o' the latest style, An' made without a wrinkle; What maiden could withstand the smile O' Adoniram Skinkle ? Each year he left the city's din, To take a long- vacation. An' live upon his country kin Fur rustic recreation. He felt so proud, an' other things All seemed so small about him, He wondered ef this leetle world Would long exist without him. Yet, while his feet with raptur' trod The blossoms, bright an' yeller, O' buttercup an' golden-rod. He heard a fearful beller. Acrost the fields, from hill to hill. The frightful noise resounded, While from a clump o' cedar trees A black BULL boldly bounded. BUCOLIC BALLADS. 65 Then Skinkle stopped, with strange supprise, — He felt a sudden shiver, The fond look faded from his eyes, His knees began to quiver. One look behind he quickly cast, — O! how^ the sight did scare him, — Then down the field he fled ez fast Ez his long legs could bear him. He hollered loudly ez he ran. But no one seemed to hear him; The fence seemed very far away. The bull seemed very near him. Before him roared the mountain stream, Behind the bull wus roarin', An' he wus left to chewse between A duckin' or a gorin'. He stopped in wo', an' all well know That t'wus no time fur laughter. He jumped into the flood below, (The bull " came tumblin' after.") The water dashed an' round him plashed, . His senses half confoundin'. His hat went dancin' down the glen, From rock to rock reboundin'. 5 66 LYKIOS OF IIOMK-LAND. 1J(^ swam the strt^iiin, lie clim' a tree, Kw lid wus overtaken, All' on llie tcjpniost bough sat lie, Like one who feels fursaken. His patent h'ather hoots wcic s|i'il(Ml, His slender cane wus shattered, His dainty wris'bands badly s'ilcd, His clo's with mud were spattoi'eil. Alas! Cur liiiii, cf IVoiii that limb He undertook to travel. The bull beg-an to shake his horns An' fiercely paw the gravel. The evenin' dew began to fall, The stars began to twinkle, Miranda waited by the wall Fur Adoniram Skinklo. Superbly dressed in all her best, She waitcMl there- to greet him; Adown the road, a leetlo way. She went with ho[)(^ to nu'et him. The dusky bats about the air AN^'re round the tarm-house llyin', Her sw<>et i'acu^ wor(> a look o' eare. She almost felt Iik(^ eryin'. iuj(;uLi(; 15 AM. AD y. t>7 All' wlicii al)()V(' tlic (listnnt hills, Tlic luoDii WHS l)iii>litly bcaiiiiir With weary head she went to bed, All' soon vvus .svvet'lly (Iriiaiiiin'. While Adoniram Skiiiklc, still His lonely hou^h adoniin', in clotliiir chili, a^'iii' his will, Awaited fur the nioniiir. He loii-ei-, An' life is like a dream. When health an' hope are with V'^''^^ When friends are true an' kind, Afore life's menny follies Pervert your simple mind. While Sarah Jane Sylvester "V^'us o-azin' at the stars, Way down tli(> hill her lover AN'us clim'in' i)'er the bars. She heard his coniin' footfalls. An' gin a timid start; She felt a kind o' flutter. Around her iiappy heart. His name wus Selah Button; A tall young- nuiii wus he; A bashful, honest farmer, 0' Yankee pedigree. From his fair dreams at night-time, From all his (ho'ts o' ilay, Sweet Sarah Jane Sylvesti-r Wus never far awav. BUCOLIC BALLADS. 71 Love cheered him at his labor, Upon the stony soil; Love made his heart more manly, An' gin him strength to toil. O! what delightful greetin's That old farm-gate hed seen; What partin's an' what meetin's Both stormy an' serene. What words o' human comfort That old farm-gate hed heard; What sounds o' love an' anger Both solem' an' absurd. What joyful exclamations; What groans o' deep despair; Fur SEVEN GENERATIONS, Hed done the'r sparkin' there. " I-like-tu-come-here,-Sairey," Sez Selah, with a sigh, " I-like-tu-hev-yeou-Selah," Sez Sarah in reply. " Be-yeou-in-airnest-Sairey? Or-foolin'-me, perhaps- Yeou've-been-an'-sed-the-same-thing- Tu-them-two-t'other-chaps? " 72 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. " I've jest gin one the mitten, An' t'other one the sack." "We'11-sail-life's-sea-tu-gether," Sez Selah with a smack!! Sweet Sarah Jane Sylvester In terror sprang away; She clasped her hands together, An' shrieked in wild dismay. Then Selah so't to soothe her; " Don't-holler,-Sairey-Jane,- I-didn't-mean-tu-kiss-ye,- I-never-will-again." But louder yet she shouted, Nor heeded what he said. From out the bed-room winder Her papa popped his head. An', like a "bull o' Bashan," He bellered, "What's tu pay?" " Lord knows, " sez Selah Button, While Sarah swooned away. He lingered but a minute Aside the senseless girl; His heart wus in a tumult; His brain wus in a whirl. BUCOLIC BALLADS. 7S Then from the earth upstartiii' He turned in mortal fear; An' down the dusky highway Did nimbly disappear. The sound o' Selah's footfalls Hed nearly died away When, from the farm-house entry, Her pai-ents, in dismay, Came hurryin', both together, An' found the'r daughter there, With her pale face half hidden Behind her auburn hair. Then, kneelin' down aside her, The father loudly said: My! goodness! sakes! alive! Sal, What's got intu yer head?" Then startin' up in terror She pulled her boddis down. An' cried, " a caterpillar Hez got intu my gown! *' O ma! take it aeout! ! take it about! ! !" A SUMMER ROMANCE. THERE wus a maiden, fair to see, Called Cynthiana Cain, Who loved a young man tenderly, Named Ebenezer Paine. She wus a pretty country girl, Ez artless ez a dove; She met j^oung Ebenezer Paine, An' early larned to love. Yet love is but a transient dream; The fancy o' a day; Its cas'les rise amid the skies, To quickly fade away. An' wimmin' are ez fickle things Ez ever hev been born; While hope itself may take to wings, An' leave the heart furlorn. To that untr'ubled neighborhood A city "drummer" came; An' soon sweet Cynthiana Cain Furg-ot her rustic flame. 74 B U C O L I r BALLADS. 75 The " drumtnor," ez the days went by, In female favor o-rew; An' C'yntliiana Cain fui-sook Her old love hiv the new; ' SHE WHS A rRKTTV COUNTRY GIRL, KZ ARTLESS EZ A DOVE." 76 LYRICS OF irOM E-L AND. An' scarce a summer day went by But he wus by her side. He bo't her candy by the pound, An' took her out to ride. The splendor o' his loud attire An' manners wus complete; The flamin' necktie tliat he wore Wus redder than a beet. On Sunday, in the village church, He looked acrost the aisle, An' watched each movement that she made With liis bewitchin' smile. She turned her head the other way, Towards Ebenezer Paine, With an expression on her face O' feminine disdain. Then honest Ebenezer Paine Grew very lean an' spare; The " drummer " quickly overturned His cas'les in the air. Amid the shocks o' standin' corn. In melancholy mind. All day he worked with look furlorn An' hated winnninkind. BUCOLIC BALLADS. 77 » ■ < 2: 78 LYRICS OF H O.M I<:- L AND. TIi(> fivals iiK't, one rainy ni<>'ht. The " (IruiiinuM- " talkcMl o' " l)l()()d," But Ebonc/.cr throw liini down, AiT rolled him in tiie nuid, Then started fur the Western wilds; lie eoidd no lon<;'er sta\' So near the heiiT that he loveil, An' yet so Car away. He went to distant Idaho, An' Cynthiana I'ain Ne'er saw his nielaneholy I'aee, Nor hearil ids vt)iee ai»"ain, A sail an' unexjxH'ted tale ^^'us hro't to town one day; When told to Cynthiana Cain She fainted innte away. "The 'drunnuiM-' lied a wife at home, An' ehildern, three or four, An' twenty ftircff /)(•(( rts, at the least, In twenty towns or more " Afore the i-luHM-less morrer eame, lie seeretly lied ilown; An' fieklt> (^ynthiana Cain ^^'us left in tears alone. HAWKINS AN' ME. YES, Hawkins an' me run the law in this town, WHien folks can't conclude to ag-rec. When one's up a stump, an' he wants to get clown. He calls upon Hawkins or me. When parties aggrieved go to law fur relief, I prosecute — Hawkins defends. 'F'e calls me a scoundrel, 1 <-aU I'ii'i u thief ! But we are the best o' good friends. The client cares nothin' fur money or time, He'll fight jest ez long ez he can; He'll watch an' he'll wait with a patience sul)lime An' pay all the l)ills like a man. He'll sit by the month on a bench in tlie court; (He wants satisfaction, you see) He finds the seat hard, but he knows there'll be q>oTt \\\ hearin' fruni Hawkins an' me. He'll ha'nt my old offis an' hall like a ghost. No matter how nuuih he is bled; We keep a case fly in' from pillar to post. Sometimes till both i)arties are dead. 80 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Ef you an' your neighbor should get by the ear, An' feel you can never agree, 'Fyou've eacli got a farm, tmincumbered an'' deary Jest call upon Hawkins an' me. 'HE'LL WATfU AN' he'll WAIT WITH A PATIENCE SUULIMB." THE WTDDER BUDD. I'M fifty, I'm fair, an' without a gray hair; I feel jest ez young ez a girl. 'F I think o' Zerubabel Lee, I declare It sets me all into a whirl. Last night he wus here, an' I told him to " c'lear,"- An' my! how supprised he did look: Perhaps I wus rash, but he's after my cash, — I see thro' his plans like a book. Some offers I've hed that I cannot call bad. There's Deacon Philander Breezee; I'd sartin said l^eSj'when he wanted a kiss, Ef 't'adn't so flustrated me. It took me so quick that it felt like a kick, — I flew all to pieces at once; Sez I, "You can go, — I'm not waiitiii' a beau"; T acted, I know, like a dunce. Sez he, ez he rose, "I hev come to propose." I stopped him afore he began: Sez I, "You can go, an' see Hepzibah Stow,— I wonH be tied dovm to a man.'''' "Mariar," sez he, " Widder Tompkins an' me Can strike up a barg'in, I know; An', seein' ez we can't decide to agree, I guess that I better hed go." 81 82 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. He picked up his hat from the chair where it sat, An' solem'ly started away; Sez I, with a look that I'm sure he mistook, "You're parfec'ly welcome to stay." My face got ez red ez our old wagon-shed, — I tho't fur the land I should melt; Sez he, " I am done. Good night, leetle one," I 'wis/i he'd a known how I felt. To-day, Isaac Beers, with his snickers an' sneers, Whose face is ez ugly ez sin, Drop't in jest to see about buyin' my steers. An' tickled the mole on my chin. Sez I, "You jest quit, I don't like you a bit; Your manners are ruther too free. You'd better behave till Jane's cold in her grave: You can't come your sawder on me." When dear David died (sniff — sniff), ez I sat by his side (sniff — sniff). He ketched up my hand in his own (sniff — sniff'); He squeezed it awhile (sniff — sniff), an' he sez, with a smile (sniff — sniff"), "You'll soon be a widder alone (sniff — sniff — sniff); An', when I am gone (sniff — sniff), don't you fuss an' take on (sniff — sniff), Like old Widder Dorothy Day (sniff — sniff); Look out fur your tin (sniff — sniff) ef you marry ag'iii (sniff — sniff), Nor thi'ow your affections away (sniff — sniff — sniff)." BUCOLIC BALLADS. 83 My childeni hev grovvii, an' got homes o' the'r own, — - They're doin' ez well ez they can (wipes her eyes and nose); An' I'm g-ettin' sick o' this livin' alone, — 1 wouldn't mind havin' a mai'. Fur David hez gone to the mansions above, — His body is cold in the ground. 'Fyou know o' a man who would marry fur love, Jest find him an' send him around (smiles serenely). MOSES DOLE. IN (;i)siiKN niAMOcr. OjAA\' st nianii'or, \vli;iart>'r y(> traveliir tew? ^^ AiT wliaat IV. \('f hi/.iu'ss? Iiaav? Kf you'll jist hold on Til ridr with ncou, lot' yoou're ^'oitr daowii luy waay. 1/ tho ol(^ oraay hi>ss yeoirre a drivin' ytM)ur'ti ? Ilev yt'i' IxH'ii !!! th.esc ])aarts al'oiH'V Bo yoou th(^ IV'IUm- tlu^t lliraaiii Craaiio Secnl over tcr Caapcii's store? No ? Waal tliet's t-uris. Naow haow did it cuiu Tlu't yiM- haappcMi'd this waay (im- stcoi-? Ilev y(M- straayed awuay t'roin liiun ter daay, Kv iii)t relaashuns here ? So y(M' doaut know naawtliiir ei'baiMit tli(\se paarts? 'rh(-t's (jiu'er enuft" ter kill. Aiiit yer nmer lieerd o' Mt)yis Dole, Air ther -Ghost o' Bucklin's Mill?" 'I'Ik^ t'aae' iz, straany-er, thet t'otluM- iiio-ht Wo wuz oviM- t(M- "CiosluMi (iaate," With a lot o' felliM's, a loahiT raound, Till it i^-ot ter be kind o' laate; SI HIT COLIC BALLADS. S5 86 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. An' when he staartid ter traavel hum, Twuz mitey daark an' still; An' he got sum scaairt, ez he cum erlong Thro' the holler by "Bucklin's Mill." Ez he hurri'd acrost the old stun hrido-e, In a lively kind o' waay, The moon cum aout from the big- blaack claouds, An' the holler lit up like daay. He whis'led ter keep hiz c'uridge up. An' ter show he didn't caare; When a Injun waar-whoop, laoud an' long. Went screechin' erlong the air. He staartid up, like a fri'ten'd pup. An' he pitched rite over a log-; An' the hair on hiz head jist riz rite up, Like the brussles on a hog-; Then hop't to hiz feet an' cut an' run Like thunder over the hill; An' tole the naabors o' all he seed, In the holler by " Bucklin's Mill." They loadid the'r rusty muskits up. An' caallin' the'r dogs erlong, Awaay they staartid, ez braave ez bears, A couple o' doz'n strong; BUCOLIC BALLADS. 87 But when they got ter the top o' the hill, It look't so gloomy b'low, Ther' waant a feller, in all the'r craowd. Could git up hiz pluck ter go. The dogs beginned ter wurry an' whine, — Wy! they wouldn't even staay; They twistid the'r tails, atween the'r legs, An' silently sneaked awaay. So, the naabors, they putter'd till niornin' cum, An' then went daown the hill; The waater wuz rush in' erlong the fleume, But everythin' else wuz still. An' jist rite over the old stun bridge Thaare sot on a big dead tree A waallopin' great hoot-aoiol that kep' A blinkin' hiz eyes on me. Hold up yer hoss, I live rite here. My naame ? Wy, bless yer soul, Rite over thet hill iz " Bucklin's Mill," An' I am Mosis Dole. — »'**jf^-. ■' ' POPPIN' CORN. TTIWUS on a winter evenin', -■- The clock hed jest struck nine, I sot inside the farm-house, With Polly Angeline. The old folks both wus sleepin', I heard her snorin' sire, Ez she an' I wus keepin' Awake around the fire; While up the chimbley leapin' The sparks flew higher an' higher. Now she wus jest the sweetest O' all the girls I knew; An' while I sot aside her. The minutes more than flew. At last to me sez Polly, " Ef we stay here till morn, 'Twill make the night more jolly To pop a leetle corn." Sez I, "You're right, I golly! Ez sure ez you were born," I knew that she wus willin', I tho't I jest would melt; I'd gin a bran new shillin' To told her how I felt. BUCOLIC BALLADS. 89 The corn wiis soon a poppin', An' she wus talkin' gay, My heart it kep' a floppin, But nothin' could I say, The corn it kep' a droppin'; I wished I wus away. At last she took the popper An' laid it on the floor; An', redder than a copper, She went an' shut the door; An' then, a minute stoppin'. She came a leetle nigher. An' whispered, " Du the poppin', An' I will tend the fire." I felt my heart a hoppin', But I wus bound to try her. Nex' Chris'mus I wus married To Polly x\ngeline; An' now we pull together. With childern eight or nine; They make a heap o' moppin', Altho' our house is small, An' it jest keeps us hoppin' To clothe an' feed 'em all. An' now I must be stoppin', I hear the baby bawl. THE JOLLY OLD BLACKSMITH. T'M a jolly old blacksmith, with grizzled hair, -I- My face is smutty, I own; I'm rough an' tough, but I hev'n't a care, I'm able to go alone. Clink, clang, clink, clang, clink, clink, clink. Plenty to eat an' plenty to drink. Rough an' tough an' hearty, you see. Wouldn't you like to live like me ? I'm a merry old blacksmith: I've chiklern three, They're full o' mischief an' fun; They're cute an' clean, ez babies can he. An' bright ez the mornin' sun. Clink, clang, clink, clang, clink, clink, clink. Plenty to eat an' plenty to drink; Rough an' tough an' hearty, you see. Wouldn't you like to live like me? I'm a happy old blacksmith, my home is neat; T hev no mor'gage to pay. My house is snug, an'' my wife is sweet. Her temper is alwus gay Clink, clang, clink, clang, clink, clink, clink. Plenty to eat an' plenty to drink; Rough an' tough an' hearty, you see. Wouldn't you like to live like me ? 90 BUCOLIC BALLADS. 91 "I'M ROUGH AN" TOUGH, UUT I HEV'n'T A CARE." THE ACHIN' BACK. TN the corn-field all the day, -*- I've dug an' sweat an' hoed away, My back does ache ez if 'twould break, An' sech is the fate o' the farmer, O ! Sech is the fate o' the farmer. The weeds will g-row, An' he must hoe. Sech is the fate o' the farmer. ^««^ •' in the corn-field all the dat. I've dug an' sweat an' uoed away." BUCOLIC BALLADS. 93 Wlien I see the western sun Sink out o' sight, my work is done. My wife complains, nor heeds my pains. An' sech is the fate o' the farmer, O ! Sech is the fate o' the farmer. The weeds will grow, An' he must hoe, Sech is the fate o' the farmer. An' at last to bed I creep, An' lie all nig-ht, too tired to sleep. To start, at morn, back to the corn, An' sech is the fate o' the farmer, O ! Sech is the fate o' the farmer. The weeds will grow. An' he mvist hoe, Sech is the fate o' the farnuM'. MY FATHER'S OLD SCARECROW. n\ /f~Y father's old scarecrow once stooil in the corn, -'^"-^ An oKl-fashioned scarecrow, absurd an' furhn-n. Its legs were but bean poles; its body wus straw; The wu'st lookin' scarecrow that ever I saw. My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow, His ragged okl scarecrow, that stood in the corn. Its featur's were sailer; its aspect wus wild; Its eyes never slumbered; its lips never smiled; It frightened the bosses, far more than the crows, That sat on its shoulders an' pecked at its nose. My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow. His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn. My father's old scarecrow liez gone to decay, A tramp took its trowse's an' wore 'em away. Yet of en, in fancy, T see in the corn, That ragged old scarecrow, absurd an' furlorn. My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow, His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn. 94 CROWS IN THE CORN. ITT TAKE up, John ! ' ^ An' come an' milk the cows, The robins an' the bluebirds are a singin' in the boug-hs, The sun hez been in sight An hour above the hill, It's time to feed the hosses an' to give the pigs the'r swill. ^"■|.4-'^ ' JOHN. 95 !m; LYIIIC8 OF HOME-LAND. Caw, eaw, caw, The crows are in the corn. Caw, caw, caw, Get up an' blow your horn! Caw, caw, caw, Ske-daw! ske-daw! ske-daw! Crows are jest the meanest thing-s a body wot saw. John, come h(nne, Ez quickly ez you can, O! dro]) your hoe an' leave your row, an' bring- the hired man. The cows hev jumped the bars. An' got into the rye, The j>ig"S are in the garden, they hev broken from the sty. Caw, caw, caw. The crows are in the cH)rn, Caw, caw, caw. Get up an' blow your lioi'u! Caw, caw, caw, Ske-daw ! ske-daw ! ske-da \v ! Farmin' is the hardest life a body ever saw. THE SECOND WIFE. A MELANCHOLY woman lay, In sickness, on lier bed; An' in a faint an' broken voice. To her sad husband said: "Dear David, when my earthly form Hez turned to lifeless clay, O! wait an' weep a leetle while. Nor throw yourself away. I know a woman, kind an' true, On whom you may depend, — O! marry Arabella Jones, She is my fondest friend." "Yes, Mollie, I hev much desired To talk o' this afore. Fur Arabella Jones an' 1 Hev tho't the matter o'er." "Then you an' Arabella Jones Hev been too smart an' sly, — I tell you, David Wilkinson, Pm not a goiri' to die.'''' Her dark eyes flashed, her strength returned, She left her bed o' pain, A week hed hardly passed away When she wus well again. 97 SONGS OF NATURE. BIRD SONG. r I ^HERE'S a choir of happy voices in the woodlands sweetly -■- sing'ing-; Out amid the apple blossoms we can hear them all the day, And with glad and joyous music all the leafy boughs are ringing. Gayly sing- the summer song-birds. How we wonder what they say. " Twitter, twitter, twiddle, twiddle," Like a flute or like a fiddle; " Pee-wee, pee-wee, see, see, see me, see me twitter all the day. Clinkum, clinkum, bobolinkum. Chirk, chirk, chirk, 0! whiskodinkum, Twit, wit, wit, wit, cheer up, cheer up." How we wonder what they say. While we look and while we listen we can see their plumage glisten In among the lilac bushes, down amid the tangled grass, — Perched on hollyhock and thistle, we can watch them while they whistle, — They go whirling by the window, loudly chirping as they pass. " Twitter, twitter, twiddle, twiddle," Like a flute or like a fiddle* 0!) 100 LYKICS OF HOME- LAND. " Pee-wee, pee-wee, see, see, see me, see me twitter all the day. Clinkum, clinkum, bobolinkum, Chirk, chirk, chirk, O! whiskodinkum, Twit, wit, wit, wit, cheer i;p, cheer up." How we wonder what they say. Round and round the farm-house flying, sweetly sing-ing-, loudlv crying-, Warbling- 'mid the trembling- tree-tops, we can hear them all the day ; While the morning- lig-ht is breaking-, while the drowsy world is waking-, Gayly sing- the summer song-birds. How we wonder what they say. " Twitter, twitter, twiddle, twiddle," Like a flute or like a fiddle; " Pee-wee, pee-wee, see, see, see me, see me twitter all the day, Clinkum, clinkum, bobolinkum. Chirk, chirk, chirk, O! whiskodinkum." Gayly sing the summer song-birds. How we wonder what they say. SUMMER IS GONE. "we all do fade as a leaf." SUMMER is gone, and the flowers are d3-iiig; Coldly the clouds 'round the mountain-tops play; Over the hillsides, the autumn winds sighing, Scatter the leaves of the woodland away. Withered the lilies lie, — Sadly the robins cry, — Homeward the swallows fly, — Winter is near. Orphans are crying and widows are weeping. Strong men are crushed by their sorrow and care, Mothers are moaning for little ones sleeping Under the willows, now leafless and bare. How soon we all grow gray, — How fast we pass away, — How like the leaves decay, Year after year. 101 THE VILLAGE BELLS. /^NCI^^ nuire, once more, my native shore ^-^^ In Ix-auty g'reets my y-aze: Again I walk the cottage floor, 'Vo (lr(>am of hyo'ono days. The K>aves are brii;lit with silx'er light, And through the (>vening- air Oiu'e more 1 hear the village bells, 'I'liat sound tht> hour oi praver. Tolling, 1- filing, Twanging, elang-ing, At the elose oC day; ()\m- hill and hollow sounding', Fi'om rock to rock rebounding, Their echoes die away. eluMM I'ul chimes of better times ! I'm growing old and gray, My I'tH^t, through other lands and elimcs, Have wanchMvd I'ar awav; 1 gladly hear your carols clear In many a joyous strain; You come like nnisic to my ear To greet me home again. Tolling, lolling. Twanging, clanging, 102 SONGS OF NATURE. At the close (}{ day; O'er hill and hollow sounding', From rock to rock rebounding, Your echoes die away. 103 ^v^CV D THE THUNDERSTORM. OWN the mountains darkly creeping-, Through the woocUands wildly sweeping, T he st i2ini__bursts o n th e land. The rain is pouring, The wind is hnidly roaring In tones sublime and grand. Flashing, crashing, growling, grumbling, Rumbling, rumbling, rolling, rumbling, Comes the thunderstorm. Round and round the birds are flying, Loudly screaming, sharply crying; They fear the falling rain. The windows rattle, The frightened sheep and cattle Come leaping down the lane. Flashing, crashing, growling, grumbling. Rumbling, rumbling, rolling, rumbling, Comes the thunderstorm. Soon the mountain-tops glow brightly, And the raindrops patter lightly Upon the roof o'erhead; The sunbeams tender Break through the clouds in splendor, 104 SONGS OF NATURE. 105 The tluuHlcr.storin has ihMh Flashing, crashing, growling, grumbling, Rumbling, rumbling, rolling, rumbling, Dies the thundei'storm. "down the mountains daukly creeping, tiiuouoii the woodlands wildly sweeping, tub stokm bursts on the land." Till': MOINTAIN STKl'LVM. nv /TMl^MinMNCJ stiviun, -^ ' -*- Hrii^'litly voti l)c;iMi, 'riii'()iii;'li the fair valleys vnii oTistcii and i^K'aiii, l"'i(>m (he i;r('(Mi hills, I'^roiii tli(> cKmi' lills, Tuniinn- I he wliccis of the mossy old mills. Murmurmn' st ream, ( I lidc oil voui' way; (ililliM- and li'h-am, I >a V al'lcr day ; Lea)) (lii'ouL!,li (lit" \alt"s; laiiii'li in your ii'l(M^; ( wild oaK's ol' (1k' i'at lioiuloss sea. Patter and prance; (ilimmer and i;lane(>; l)own ( liroiii^li (lie hollows delin'ht i'ully daiu'o; 'rremlili> and i;low ; K'ipple and llow ; Bv tho luiuht l)anks where the wild willows o-nnv. Muniiurinu,- stream, (ilide on voiii' way; (ilitter and ur o-l(>e; (JrtM't the wild ij-aK^s of the falluMiiless son. lOf. O! BRIGHTLY BEAM. I. ABOVE tho hills, tlio inooiibcains <>-low, Beyond the fields oi' shining- snow. Tho cloudless night is cold and clear, The leaflc^ss woods look daik and drear. Along the air the slei^hix'lls ring, "While happy voices sweetly sing: "Oh, brightly beam, with silver light, The boughs are bare, tlie world is white, Beam on, bcuim on. From dusk till dawn, Beam on, O silver moon ! beam on." II. The evening wind blows soft and low, Amid the trees the moonbeams glow, The summer night is warm and clear, The distant whip-poor-will we hear. The t/embling leaves with beauty gleam. The starbeams dance upon the stream: "Oh, brightly shine, with silver light. The world is green, the hills are bright, Shine on, shine on. From dusk till dawn. Shine on, O silver moon ! shine on." 107 A WINTER SONG. WE woke in the morning-, and found, without warning, The meadows and liillsides were white with the snow; It came all unbidden, the brooklet was hidden And hushed in the hollow below. Softly, silently, white and fair, Floating along- through the frosty air, Swirling, whirling, Shifting, drifting, Came the glittering- snow. A poor little robin stood silently bobbin' His wee little head in a pitiful way; The chickens, with wonder, stood solennily under The homely old shed o'er the way. Softly, silently, white and fair, Floating along through the frosty air, Swirling, whirling. Shifting, drifting, Came the glittering snow. The north wind was blowing, the cattle were lowing. The poor sheep were bleating about the old shed. The horses were neighing, all seemed to be saying: " We want to be sheltered and fed." Softly, silently, white and fair. Floating along through the frosty air, 108 SONGS OF NATURE. 109 Swirling, whirling, Shifting, drifting, Came the glittering snow. ^ ^^^^^^^W^l^f^^<^^ •SOFTI-T, SILENTLY, WHITE AND FAIR, FLOATING ALONG THROUGH THE FROSTY AIR.' SONG OF THE WOODCIIOPPER. /^~\UT in the bleak, cold woods he stands, ^-^ Swingino; his axe with sturdy hands; Sharply the blue-jays near him call. Softly the snow-flakes round him fall; Gayly he sings, As his axe he swings, "What care I for the ice or snow, — Here away, there away, down you go." Loud the winds through the tree-tops sigh; Far the chips from his keen axe fly; Fiercely the tree-trunks, gray and brown. Totter, sway, and come tunibling down. Gayly he sings, As his axe he swings, "What care I for the ice or snow, — Here away, there away, down you go, "There's time to work and time to skn^j); There's time to laugh and time to weep; The chips must fly, the trees must fall To feed the fire that warms us all." Gayly he sings, As his axe lie swings, " What care I for the ice or snow, — Here away, there away, down you go." no ROLL, AVAVES, KOLL. I STAND upon the sombre shore, I watch the leaden sky, I see the stonn-clouds coming, and the; tall white ships go by; Tlie sea-gulls on their restless wings are hurrying to and fro, The- waves are wildly beating on the ragged rocks below. The sky grows d#I'k, the night comes on, the wind begins to roar, The lightnings flash, the thunders crash along the trembling shore; The wrecks are beating on the strand, the signal lights I see,— Heaven ! keep my darling from all harm and bring him home to me. Roll, waves, — roll, waves, — wildly roll away, Leap along the sandy shore, white with foam and spray; Blow, winds, — blow, winds, — softly o'er the sea, Bring my darling home again, — home again to me. '•BLOW. WINDK l-.l'iw \W.M>S.- POFTI.T O'ER THE SEA. BRING MY DARLING HOME AGAIN.- HOME AGAIN TO ME." LAUGHING SOXG. AN IMITxVTION OF TEXNYSOX. I COME from fields of frost and snow, My winding way I follow; I come from whei'o the wild-woods grow, I come from hill and hollow; I foam, T flash, 1 leap, I dash, I glide with music merry O'er pebbles bright with rainbow light. Along the lonely prairie. Minne-ha-ha, Miinie-ha-ha, Laughing, laughing Minne-ha-ha; Minne-ha-ha, Minne-ha-ha, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. I tremble on the rocky brinks Mv winding way I follow; I gleam, I pause, I plunge, I sink Into the hidden hollow; T loudlv roar along the shore, T sparkle and T quiver, I rush along with laughing song To greet the mighty river. Miinie-ha-ha, Miinie-ha-ha, Laughing, laughing Miiuie-ha-ha; Minne-ha-ha, Minne-ha-ha, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, lia, ha. 112 E' ALPENA. I. ING the bell slowly, — Humble and holy Feels every heart, filled with anguish and gloom; Ring the bell d(;lcfully, Tearfully, soulfully. Prayerfully, carefully Over her tomb. Brightly the sunbeams were gleaming and glancing, Gayly the billows were bounding and dancing. Soft were the winds and delightful the day. Bearing her throng- Proudly along, Out from the harljor she went on her way; Trembling and plashing, she passed from the shore; Fading from eyes that would greet her no more. II. Look at yon clouds through the dark heavens gliding; See the white foam on the tall billows riding: Hark to the creak Of timbers within! Hear the winds shriek! (), list to the din In the air, all around, as she rattles and rolls, As she breasts the broad waves with lier burden of souls. 113 114 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Must they die ? How they cry! Voices in prayer! Shrieks of desj^air! Down in the trough of the sea, with a crash, She quivers, shivers, and sinks with a plash; Battered, shattered, scattered, and wliirled Into darkness, out of the world. III. Softly the sunshine is gleaming to-day, Peacefully glide the white ships on their way. Many are hopefully watching, with sorrow. Tearfully waiting for loved ones to-morrow. Dear ones whose voices will gladden the soul Only where waves of Eternity roll. Pity the fatherless. Pity the motherless. Pity the sisterless, Pity the brotherless. Comfort the strong man by sorrow made wild. Comfort the mother who mourns for her child. Ring tlie bell slowly, Humble and holy Feels every heart, filled with anguish and gloom; Ring the bell dolefully. Tearfully, soulfully, Prayerfully, Carefully Over her tomb. THE BANKS OF THE MOHAWK. ODARK rolling river, majestic and free! You bring back the brightness of boyhood to me When gayly I wandered along your wild shore, With one I loved fondly, who loves me no more. By the banks of the ]\Iohawk, The cataracts roar. Where we wandered in childhood Along the wild shore. The song birds have vanished, the summer is o'er. The roses have faded, that bloomed by her door; The elms and the maples stand leafless and drear; The snow-flakes are falling, the winter is here. By the banks of the Mohawk, The cataracts roar. Where we wandered in childhood Along the w^ild shore. The hopes of her girlhood have flown far away; Her bright auburn tresses are faded and gray; Her beauty has vanished; her features, once fair, Are saddened by sorrow and furrowed by care. By the banks of the Mohawk The cataracts roar, Where we wandered in childhood Along the wild shore, 115 116 LYRICS OF HOME-LAND. Oui" childhood is g'ouc; we are drifting to-day, Like leaves on the river, forever away; We're leaving- the years, and are nearing the shore, Where storms never beat and no cataracts roar. By the banks of the Mohawk The waters may roar Forever and ever, Alono- the wild shore. '^P.U SOFTLY FROM THE I^URPLE CLOUDS. S' OFTLY Iroin the purplo clouds, Thi-oui^'h the uiild and bahiiy air, Gleams the golden sunshine down, beautiful and fair. Gently, from an April sky, Fall the pearly drops of rain; Bringing gladness to the ground; bringing spring again. So, within the liuiuan heart, Through the cheerless clouds of care, Hope, with heavenly light, looks down, beautifid and fair. .Joy and gladness come again; From the soul all sorrow flies; And- the darkness disappears, as the winter dies. .S?'-, 'GENTLY. FROM AN AI'IUL SKY, FALL TUB PKAIILV UKOPS OF BAIN." T\46 ^CcfVOPf^-^ SOCIETY SKETCHES. "A KISS IN THE DARK." HE was a gay young bachelor, — His name was Hiram Greene, He loved a charming city belle, Called Amarilla Keene. He whistled operatic airs, And he could softly play Upon the flute and violin. And ''Parly-voo-frowj-say:' He had the costliest kind of clothes; He bore a stylish cane; He wore a iM-illiant diamond pin. And massive golden chain. She danced in silks and satins gay, At fashionable balls; And in a glittering coupe She shopped and made her calls. 119 Il>0 \j\ \: U'S OF II OM K-LA ND. lSlii> swept ;i(l()\vii (lie dusty pave With ;i inMJrstic' ;iii-. Amid tlic i;;i_v ;iiid l)rilli;iii! crowd Tlmt (lirouii-cd the t Iiorouo'liI'Mro. And if sduic little l)(>y'>4-;ir-^'ifl A pciiiiy cliMiu'cd to iTinc, It \v;is ;i piteous sii^lit to S("(> 'I'lio look ol' si'oiii slic lov(>d to talk of hrit'-d-hrite And docoi'at i\ (> art ; iSlie tlnauuuHMl and lununu'd the \voiulrou« uirs or Cliopin and Mozart. She \vori> a "Sai'atou'a \vav(\" 'l\) liiiU> her scant \' liaii-; And on a vchi-t hassock pi'avcd W licn(>\M' she kiieh in prav(>r. Slic had a paii' of poodI(>-don-s, With which she I'ondlv pla\ed; llcr pui'se-pioud tatlier deaU in hoo-s I 'i)on t he l>oai-d o{ 'I'raih'. ^^ hat wond(M' that youni;' llirani (inuMie (X't' i'aini> to Iier ahoileV llcr love lu^twecn tlu^ doii's and hiiu Was ecjually liestowi'd. On Sundays, when the twinklinu,- stars Boii'an io beam above. SOCIETY KK KTCII KS. Il(; liastciicd down the Avenue 'I'o cjill ii|i()ii l)is love. Slic! Coiuliy wailed a( llic door 'I'ill Hiram did appear; lie -leaininj^ in the hall. He lieard a sound u])on the stairs Of footfalls comin<^ down, — Then in tlu; s])afious vestibule, 'I'lie rustlino- of a ^-own. And then he thou^-ht he stood Ixd'ore The t)ein//c il<> ! l'i,AZK i.rr Ml': <;o! I say; Ye, spal[)een yiz! the loike o' this I iiivar saw tln^ 'kiy!" The ^-aslif^Hit j;-leame(| within the liall; Tt n(!eded but a look For riirarn Greene to eompicliend That ha lut