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FLOWERS OF THE CLOISTER 
 
FLOWERS OF THE CLOISTER 
 
 BY 
 
 SISTER MARY WILFRID LA MOTTE 
 
 Sister of Loretto at the Foot of the Cross, 
 
 LoRETTO Mother-House, Marion County, 
 
 Kentucky 
 
 New York Cincinnati Chicago 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS 
 
 PRINTERS TO THE I PUBLISHERS OF 
 
 HOLY APOSTOLIC SEE | BENZIGER's MAGAZIN? 
 
 i9'3 
 

 Copyright, 1913, by Benziger Brothers 
 
 ©CI.A850443 
 
TO 
 
 i^'Q Dear /iRotbec 
 
 WHOSE LOVE FOR ME BEGAN WITH MY LIFE AND WILL 
 
 LAST, I TRUST, THROUGHOUT ETERNITY, THESE 
 
 VERSES ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 ^be Butbor 
 
 k 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 TT is a fact In the history of Christian art that 
 whether it has found expression under 
 the form of music, painting, sculpture, archi- 
 tecture, or poetry, the Sanctuary and Cloister 
 have ever been its inspiration and shelter. 
 
 God's truth has blossomed with hue and ray 
 divine where the altar-lamp of faith has burned 
 most brightly. For art without God is a 
 meaningless and empty thing, making no appeal 
 to the spiritual within us. 
 
 Because of this, all Christian art is touched 
 with the infinite. It addresses the soul in 
 terms of the infinite. It is a very breath, 
 or aspiration, mounting up to the throne of 
 God, whence is showered the seedling of every 
 precious gift and where is found the type 
 of all beauty. 
 
 The writer of these poems, happily titled 
 ** Flowers of the Cloister," has, as a good and 
 gifted Religious, dwelt with God for many 
 years. In God and His holiness her noble 
 
6 Foreword 
 
 soul has grown. The poems which Sister 
 Mary Wilfrid, best known by her pen name 
 of ** Balbus " — a Religious of the Sisters of 
 Loretto at the Foot of the Cross — has written 
 from time to time are a record of soul-growth, 
 set to the beauteous harmony of God's truth 
 and love. 
 
 Busy indeed are- the hearts and hands of 
 the religious women, who within our convent 
 walls guide and instruct and mold our Catho- 
 lic womanhood. Yet do they find time to 
 add to the sum and wealth of Christian art, 
 now in poem, now in essay, now in sweet and 
 subtle setting of song. 
 
 Shut out from the world and shunning 
 its glare and light, they seek not that their 
 work should be known of men. So in the 
 Catholic literary toil of this country we 
 Catholics are apt to forget that we have had 
 a Sister Rita of St. Mary's Academy, Notre 
 Dame, Ind., a Sister Borromeo ('* Carlo 
 Milanis ") of St. Clara's College, Sinsinawa 
 Mound, Wis., and a Sister Francis de Sales 
 (** Edsekas ") of Visitation Academy, Evans- 
 ton, 111., a trinity of Religious that have 
 
Foreword 7 
 
 added to the wealth and grace of the Catho- 
 lic literature of this country. 
 
 Sister Wilfrid's ** Flowers of the Cloister " 
 will, I am sure, add to this wealth and grace 
 of Catholic letters. Her poems, dealing with 
 no vexed problems or deep heart searchings, 
 are full of beauteous reflection and are ever 
 keyed to Catholic truth. They are a very 
 breath, a fragrant breath from that garden 
 of culture and prayer, the Loretto Mother- 
 House, Loretto, Ky., hallowed by a century 
 of sacred keeping. 
 
 Thomas O'Hagan. 
 
 " The New World," 
 Chicago, III., 
 January, 1913. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 God 13 
 
 I Love Thee, Lord 15 
 
 Christmas Scene 18 
 
 Venite 19 
 
 Ages Have Passed 21 
 
 Christmas Stars 23 
 
 Earth's Christmas Flower 25 
 
 What Will the New Year Bring? 27 
 
 Blessings of a Year 29 
 
 To February 32 
 
 The Purification 34 
 
 Vla Crucis 36 
 
 The Temple Raised 39 
 
 God's Claim ! 40 
 
 Mary's Conquests 42 
 
 Mary, Our Mother 44 
 
 Mary in Rome 46 
 
 To THE Sacred Heart 49 
 
 There Lies the Power 51 
 
 At THE Shrine of the Sacred Heart 53 
 
 Two Wounds 56 
 
 Two Voices 58 
 
 Pictures 60 
 
 The Bride's Vow 62 
 
 The Nun's Vows 64 
 
 To Our Graduates 67 
 
 Our Futures 68 
 
 9 
 
10 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Because I Love Thee 70 
 
 My Friend Afar 72 
 
 'Mid Nodding Lilies 74 
 
 Morning 76 
 
 September 78 
 
 September Song 79 
 
 October 80 
 
 Purgatory 82 
 
 November Days 8s 
 
 Lesson of the Good 85 
 
 How Few 88 
 
 Marie Stuart 91 
 
 Memories 92 
 
 To My Mother 94 
 
 God and His Angels Knew 96 
 
 Peace, Be Still 98 
 
 Under the Shadows 100 
 
 Complete 102 
 
 The Magic Scarf 104 
 
 To a Young Girl 106 
 
 Beside the Well 107 
 
 In Halls of Silence 109 
 
 Fly, Bird of Century 1 1 1 
 
 On Sea 113 
 
 A Bird at Sea 115 
 
 Walks in Rome 118 
 
 In Heaven We Know Our Own 120 
 
 St. Stanislaus 122 
 
 Twice at the Hellespont 125 
 
 Rev. Charles Nerinckx 133 
 
 Loretto. — Centenary Ode 140 
 
 Legend of Antioch 151 
 
FLOWERS OF THE CLOISTER 
 
D 
 
 GOD 
 
 EPTHS to Thee are shallowness, 
 Heights but lowly things, 
 Richest growth but barrenness, 
 
 Blasts like birdling wings. 
 
 Human love like zephyr's sigh, 
 
 Perfumed, transient, sweet, — 
 
 Friendship like the passing by 
 
 Of happy hours, too fleet. 
 
 Power to Thee is impotence, 
 
 Dignities all show, 
 Knowledge childish ignorance. 
 
 Genius feeble glow. 
 Deeps mighty as a little drop. 
 
 The sky a simple arch. 
 The world itself a ball to stop, 
 
 When Time shall cease its march. 
 13 
 
14 God 
 
 Man beside Thy greatness seems 
 
 A heap of worthless dust, 
 A creature subject to extremes, 
 
 E'en angels cannot trust. 
 By Thy infinitude how small, 
 
 This creature doth appear; 
 God magnificent, our All, 
 
 Let love exceed our fear! 
 
I LOVE THEE, LORD 
 
 I LOVE Thee, Lord, because Thou art per- 
 -*■ fection, 
 
 There never can be fault, nor flaw in Thee; 
 Thou art my heart's first, last, and sole election. 
 
 My choice for time and for eternity. 
 
 Thou dost not turn away when I approach 
 Thee 
 With heedless words, and weakly wavering 
 will, 
 Thou dost not, with harsh speech, rebuke, 
 reproach me, 
 I love Thee, Lord, for Thou art patient still. 
 
 Bright things on earth are but the emanations 
 Of Thy transcendent beauty from on high; 
 
 Can we allow these fair, but frail creations 
 To captivate the heart, as charm the eye? 
 
 Age cannot come to mar Thy heavenly beauty. 
 Disease had never power over Thee; 
 
 Death once for Thee performed his solemn duty; 
 Thou liv'st and reign'st now eternally. 
 
 IS 
 
16 / Lot)e Thee, Lord 
 
 I love Thee, Lord, because Thy heart is 
 burning, 
 
 With a rare love for me — Thy abject child; 
 Oh! may I always love for love returning, 
 
 Be never more by earthly loves beguiled. 
 
 Some hearts complain of often being lonely; 
 
 Do they not know that Thou art ever near? 
 Ah! if they thought about and loved Thee 
 only, 
 How sweet the words of comfort they should 
 hear. , 
 
 I love the good in creatures, but perfection 
 Is no where else, Heart, except in Thee! 
 
 I fain would, like Thee, grow, my soul's elec- 
 tion, 
 Teach me the way — I listen eagerly. 
 
 When doubt and darkness o'er my pathway 
 lower. 
 When sadness casts a veil about my soul, 
 I turn to Thee, and with Thy wondrous power 
 Thou bid'st the shadows quickly backward 
 roll. 
 
/ LoVe Thee, Lord 17 
 
 0, Friend of friends! How blest is the assur- 
 ance, 
 That Thou can'st not forget, betray, nor 
 fail; 
 Through endless ages hath Thy love endur- 
 ance. 
 What matter if the lamps of earth grow pale? 
 
 Among the pilgrims daily upward climbing, 
 None seem so frail, and prone to fall, as I ; 
 
 Yet, like them, for the happy goal Tm pining, 
 To Thy strong Heart I lift a pleading cry. 
 
 Dost hear me. Lord? Send aid unto my 
 weakness. 
 Reject me not, though I call oft again; 
 Teach my poor heart the lesson of Thy meek- 
 ness, 
 Thou knowest that I love Thee, Lord.— 
 Amen. 
 
CHRISTMAS SCENE 
 
 A NGELS, stars, and blended tints above, 
 ^'^ Loud music rolling from the opal dome; 
 In cave, a youthful mother, earth's fair Dove, 
 
 Giving to Child divine a mortal home. 
 Two lowly animals, a meek-faced man, 
 Rough-mantled shepherds, with their bleat- 
 ing gifts: 
 Our Christmas picture, since Christ's life 
 began, 
 The scene, that yearly Christian heart up- 
 lifts. 
 
 i8 
 
VENITE 
 
 "C'LOATING to earth on the autumn breeze, 
 
 *■" A leaf in silence fell, 
 
 Cast from some bough on the frosted trees; 
 
 Its home no man can tell. 
 Yet its dainty face in rich color vied. 
 
 With flower-cup drooping near; 
 In shaded crimson and gold hues dyed, 
 
 That leaf spoke love and cheer. 
 
 Coming to earth on an angel's wing, 
 
 Toward Nazareth long ago, 
 Peace and good will for time to bring 
 
 Fell blossom as pure as snow. 
 The Lily of Israel there embraced 
 
 This blossom of love divine, 
 While the vault of heaven was angel-faced 
 
 And glittered like noonday's shine. 
 
 Bethlehem's hill — a shadowed cave. 
 
 Where cattle meekly fed. 
 Old Mother Earth to her Master gave 
 
 For His straw-lined manger bed. 
 19 
 
20 Veniie 
 
 High stars blazed forth — the angels sang, 
 The shepherds came, heart pure, 
 
 And the tiny form slumbered free from pang, 
 In trusting love secure. 
 
 Winds may wander and leaves may fall, 
 
 Their fate unknown remain. 
 But a Father's care hath concern for us all. 
 
 For Him each shall live again. 
 We may gather about the low-thatched roof. 
 
 As leaves from the world's cold blast; 
 Christ's Heart will give us some tender proof 
 
 That He knows we have come at last. 
 
AGES HAVE PASSED 
 
 A GES have passed since the Bethlehem cave 
 ■^"^ To Mary and Joseph a poor shelter gave; 
 Ages since Jesus, a straw-cradled child, 
 Upon His young mother first humanly smiled. 
 Ages have passed since the heavens in love 
 Opened wide portals, while choirs above 
 Earthward sent melody, potent to thrill 
 Men's hearts with the promise of peace and 
 good will. 
 
 Ages have passed, yet that song seems as sweet, 
 As when lowly shepherds the angels did greet; 
 The Baby-King still joyfully homage receives 
 From each loving heart, from each spirit 
 
 that believes. 
 Men now with angels the Gloria sing, 
 Earth-bells like golden harps joyously ring. 
 Innocent little ones hasten to find 
 The Infant of Bethlehem, gentle and kind. 
 
 21 
 
22 Ages Have Passed 
 
 Ages have passed, still the same opal skies 
 Look kindly toward earth with the same 
 
 starry eyes, 
 Which lighted that Christmas at Bethlehem 
 
 old, 
 When the heaven-planned tableau Christ's 
 
 story first told. 
 So shall the ages eternal appear, 
 A restful, a blissful, an unending year. 
 With Bethlehem joys and fair scenes of the 
 
 past. 
 Enshrined in a heavenly tableau to last. 
 
CHRISTMAS STARS 
 
 /^ LOVELY stars, so radiant, silent, calm, 
 
 ^^ Sailing yon opal sea. 
 
 Be heralds of a soul's all healing balm, 
 
 Coming full soon to me. 
 Whatever thorns hath hardened the year past, 
 
 To wound my spirit sore, 
 May under Jesus' Crib be quickly cast, 
 
 Their sharpness felt no more. 
 
 lovely stars, each Christmas seems more 
 sweet. 
 Since that of new-born hopes, 
 When your bright cohorts and your legions 
 fleet, 
 Wheeled over Bethlehem's slopes, 
 And stole with silent ray, where slept the 
 Child, 
 To claim Him as your king, 
 Heedless of wintry cold, or tempest wildi 
 Silent, while angels sing. 
 23 
 
24 Christmas Stars 
 
 Christmas stars, thro' ages still unchanged, 
 
 How we should love your light; 
 Never from track assigned hath one orb ranged, 
 
 Nor failed to cheer earth's night. 
 Teach me the lesson of your faithful love, 
 
 For that dear Babe divine. 
 Hold this rash spirit, ever prone to rove, 
 
 Close to the Manger-Shrine. 
 
" EARTH'S CHRISTMAS FLOWER " 
 
 A DAINTY Bud from fair, celestial clime, 
 ^^ Hath found its way to earth. 
 And One whose age exceeds the lapse of time 
 
 Submits to mortal birth. 
 A tiny Infant, sleeping on rough straw, 
 
 Warmed by a mother's smile, 
 Is One before whom angels bend in awe, 
 
 One, free from Satan's guile. 
 
 Lo! Majesty all sweetly helpless lies, 
 
 Without a crown — unknown. 
 Bright angel courtiers, chanting from the 
 skies. 
 
 His Gloria intone. 
 cold, sad earth! seest not the waxen Flower, 
 
 That seeks, for thee, to bloom? 
 'Tis come, at last, the long expected hour. 
 
 Yet still thou sleep' st in gloom. 
 
 25 
 
26 ''EariKs Christmas Flower' 
 
 This fragile Blossom meets a ready hand, 
 
 To clasp It and secure, 
 Mary is there and near doth Joseph stand, 
 
 Both loving, humble, pure. 
 The fragrance of the heavenly Bloom they 
 hail, 
 
 Expanding 'neath their eyes, 
 And noting not how earthly comforts fail, 
 
 They kneel in rapt surprise. 
 
 tender Flower, sweet, immortal Balm! 
 
 Asleep in lowly bed, 
 To stormy earth Thou bring'st a wondrous 
 calm, 
 
 Afar Thy fragrance shed. 
 The eastern star-ray knows where Thou art 
 hid. 
 
 Leads crowned-heads to Thy side; 
 Send to our hearts a guiding ray and bid 
 
 Them sing glad Christmastide! 
 
"WHAT WILL THE NEW YEAR 
 BRING? '' 
 
 "X Y 7E know the stars and flowers that bright- 
 ^^ ened life. 
 
 During the twelve months past; 
 We know the outward storms, the inward 
 strife. 
 That lowered, but did not last. 
 We do not know what ray may light the path, 
 
 What flowers deck the way; 
 What smiles may gladden, or frowns kindle 
 wrath 
 In the oncoming day. 
 
 Vicissitude our lot must ever be 
 
 While seasons change below, 
 Tho' seeming stern, 'tis God's all-wise decree. 
 
 Lest we our Heaven forego. 
 What matter if no sybil's voice make known 
 
 Our future joy or grief; 
 
 What matter if our harvests have outgrown 
 
 The ripening of the sheaf? 
 27 
 
28 " What Will the New Year Bring? " 
 
 What will the New Year bring? God's daily 
 sun, 
 
 His soft moon-ray at night; 
 Some darkness, then the sky; stars, one by 
 one; 
 
 Years fruitful, — then a blight. 
 From our heart-circle, perhaps, a bitter loss, 
 
 Some new friends in the void; 
 Some sweet success before a heavy cross; — 
 
 No pleasure unalloyed. 
 
 We may expect each new year to repeat 
 
 Life's many-colored tale, 
 So will this twelve months be for us replete. 
 
 Nor tears, nor smiles prevail. 
 And all the year its meed of joy will hold, 
 
 With kind, soul-tempering cares, 
 Each day God's tender mercies will unfold, 
 
 In answer to our prayers. 
 
BLESSINGS OF A YEAR 
 
 IS IT a little thing that we behold, 
 The culmination of another year? 
 What is the story that can now be told 
 Of twelve bright months, so far and yet so 
 near? 
 They seem so far, because the running tide 
 
 Of Time, swift passes from our eager view; 
 They seem so near, because we still confide 
 In promises each season did renew. 
 
 Vanished they are, however they appear, 
 But what they brought may yet with us 
 remain. 
 The part we gave to God, His records bear. 
 His balance sheets show every loss and 
 gain. 
 Which is the longer column; which reveals 
 The hidden springs, that move our daily 
 course? 
 Is it regret, that o'er our spirit steals? 
 Is it full tide of joy, or dull remorse? 
 29 
 
30 Blessings of a Year 
 
 Each perished month left records of its own, 
 Which memory's lens enables us to read; 
 Along the vista, blessings hardly known, 
 
 Arise reproachful, till our poor hearts bleed. 
 Such bounteous blessings! — Many a golden 
 sun 
 Lighted long days, for us both glad and 
 sweet; 
 So many moons, their silvery paths have run. 
 And many friends, our hearts rejoice to 
 meet. 
 
 So many birds have warbled to our ears, 
 
 So many flowers blossomed by the way. 
 So many kindly acts have dried our tears. 
 
 So many blest suggestions made us pray. 
 While to our inward lives hath God assigned. 
 
 With liberal hand, meet succor for each 
 hour; 
 Full oft He tried us, then with love refined, 
 
 RemiOved the cross, tho' tis our rightful 
 dower. 
 
 Such is the story of the year just passed, 
 Alive and grateful, we another face; 
 
Blessings of a Year 31 
 
 What doth it bring us? A day to be our last? 
 
 No day will come devoid of God's strong 
 grace. 
 Another year! We gladly consecrate 
 
 Each hour God kindly adds unto our store; 
 Another year bearing its precious freight 
 
 Of joys and woes is knocking at my door. 
 
TO FEBRUARY 
 
 /^NE of twelve sisters, yet no poet sings 
 ^^ Thy charms, February, Time's grey 
 
 child ; 
 Before thee. New Year opens; wild March 
 
 brings, 
 At thy departure, hope of seasons mild; 
 This the harsh verdict of a northern clime. 
 But there are other lands, where thou dost 
 
 smile; 
 Where flowers and birds and children hail 
 
 the time 
 Of thy sweet coming. Many an ocean isle 
 And broad expanse of prairie, gemmed by 
 
 thee, 
 Lift flowery faces to a blue-flecked sky, 
 And lonely mariners, on rolling sea, 
 Dream of bright homestead, they perforce 
 
 must fly. 
 Whichever way a Christian's footsteps tend, 
 For him, thou hast a picture, old, but fair; 
 33 
 
To February 33 
 
 Of Maiden Mother, and her espoused friend. 
 Who meekly doth the poor man's offering 
 
 bear, 
 Of aged Simeon, with weak arms aloft, 
 Chanting his death-song, full of holy joy, 
 And sainted Anna, in a tone dove-soft. 
 Murmuring glad welcome home to Mary's 
 
 boy. 
 
THE PURIFICATION 
 
 r^ OD'S lovely things— a Mother, Child, two 
 ^-^ doves. 
 
 With lowly mien ascend the Temple stair; 
 A meek attendant, whom the Virgin loves, 
 
 In dream ecstatic doth her burdens share. 
 They have had Heaven in Bethlehem's dewy 
 cave, 
 
 Have heard for forty days the angels sing, 
 For forty days, no bold intruder — save 
 
 The humble shepherd and the eastern king. 
 
 Jesus hath made their paradise complete. 
 
 With joy beyond that known on earth 
 before, 
 Now joy, too, passes, with unconscious feet, 
 
 Far, far away from Temple's sacred door. 
 Anna beholds the Child of priceless worth. 
 
 Promised of old to prophet, king and seer, 
 Simeon, inspired, proclaims Messiah's birth. 
 
 And sings of hope fulfilled and death, so 
 near. 
 
 34 
 
The Purification 35 
 
 His eye prophetic wakes a minor strain, 
 He turns toward Mary and her woe fore- 
 tells; 
 Her peace and holy calmness still remain, 
 Tho' in her heart a dark dread henceforth 
 dwells. 
 The Babe, close nestled to its Mother's heart, 
 
 Goes forth, Redeemer to the human race, 
 And Mary bows, accepting her stern part, 
 Tho' foot-prints, dyed in blood, she, too, 
 must trace. 
 
 I 
 
" VIA CRUCIS " 
 
 '"T^IS darkness now about us, and full slow, 
 *■• The hours, beside a sleepless pillow, go, 
 Yet thoughts can wing an unimpeded flight 
 O'er land and sea by sunlit day or night. 
 Within a vestibule my spirit soars 
 And gazes, wistful, thro' the open doors 
 That lead into a church, where simple art 
 Depicts the Dolors of our Lady's heart. 
 
 The aisle, a vista, lights on either side, 
 Lead straight to where our Saviour doth 
 
 abide. 
 Above, from fleecy clouds, on ceiling traced, 
 Look down fair angels, sweetly human-faced. 
 Below, veiled heads are bent in solemn prayer. 
 One group all sombre, one all white — to share 
 Their supplications; younger forms, too, kneel 
 Lifting, as one, to Heaven, a fond appeal. 
 36 
 
-Via Crucis'* 37 
 
 The hour for Via Crucis; blessed hour, 
 Commemorating love's all-conquering power, 
 That brought a cross-bent Victim to the hill 
 Of Calvary, there His heart's life-blood to 
 
 spill 
 In generous outpourings, from each vein 
 A crimson flood, souls cleansing from sin 
 
 stain. 
 With prayers compassionate, the priest of God 
 Passes along the way that Victim trod. 
 
 Each figure to my spirit's eye is plain. 
 I join each prayer, each Stabafs sad refrain, 
 Tho' singing with them, other tones are clear. 
 And tell whose voice strikes sweetly on mine 
 
 ear. 
 Does no one yet my presence realize? 
 Must I withdraw, not meeting any eyes 
 Of recognition? Spirits, who behold! 
 Return to exile from a flight too bold. 
 
 The Via Crucis ends. They disappear: 
 The portal closes — now the scene is drear; 
 My spirit speeds afar; Sleep's angel sings 
 And fair home-visions to our slumber brings. 
 
38 -Via Crucis'' 
 
 We are content until God's future day 
 Toward western coast shall clearly point the 
 
 way; 
 Our Via Crucis here, not there, must be, 
 At least till duty calls us o'er the sea. 
 
THE TEMPLE RAISED 
 
 A GLORY, not from sun In night-dimmed sky, 
 ^^ Nor whitened moon-ray's sheen; 
 A flash, which dazzles e'en a soldier's eye, 
 
 A form too clearly seen. 
 The word fulfilled; the Temple full restored, 
 
 Three days in ruin laid; 
 The faithful few again behold their Lord — 
 
 Behold him undismayed. 
 
 The guard, the stone, the heavy Roman seal. 
 
 Retained Him not in tomb; 
 Disturbing naught, a radiance did reveal. 
 
 His passing in the gloom. 
 Be it to cross, or tomb — true hearts, unknown 
 
 An angel will be there. 
 To say, '* Fear not," — to roll away the stone 
 
 Your loving quest to share. 
 
 39 
 
GOD'S CLAIM 
 
 /^UTSIDE Jerusalem's lofty walls, 
 ^^ With Calvary's height near by, 
 The measured blow of hammer falls, 
 
 Beneath the master's eye, 
 The chisel deftly chips the stone 
 
 To many a quaint design, 
 Yet he who deems that tomb his own 
 
 Shall not therein recline. 
 
 Let him those sculptured walls prepare, 
 
 And see the slab well placed. 
 Select the whitest blocks with care. 
 
 E'en have his own name traced; 
 And still a mightier than he 
 
 Shall in that tomb be laid; 
 Yea, Joseph's gift to God will be 
 
 Its white sepulchral shade. 
 
 Thus do we often plan and build 
 
 To give our hearts content, 
 40 
 
God's Claim 41 
 
 And when our wishes seem fulfilled, 
 
 God's countermand is sent. 
 Ah! happy we, if He but claim 
 
 All that those hearts hold best, 
 And on the slab which bears no name 
 
 Take sweet and tranquil rest. 
 
MARY'S CONQUESTS 
 
 HOW many hearts wilt thou conquer this 
 May, 
 
 Mary, our Mother, 
 Then gently guide them along the safe way. 
 
 To Jesus, our brother? 
 Earth would present but a wilderness drear, 
 Weak hearts would yield to a well-grounded 
 
 fear, 
 Were not thy presence a beacon to cheer, 
 Mary, our Mother! 
 
 Wonderful beauty and sweetness and bloom, 
 
 dearest Mother, 
 Rise trom the earth, after cold, wintry gloom; 
 
 There is no other 
 
 Radiant season, like one, earth calls thine. 
 
 When the fair star-flowers most sweetly shine. 
 
 And gathering bird-choirs gaily combine. 
 
 To greet thee, Mother. 
 42 
 
Marys Conquests 43 
 
 May brings us thoughts of yon Kingdom of 
 Peace, 
 
 Mary, our Mother, 
 Where festive happiness never shall cease, 
 
 And thou still our Mother. 
 If we prove faithful, our fortune will be. 
 E'en at the White Throne, acknowledged by 
 
 thee. 
 Thy transfigured beauty forever to see, 
 
 And Jesus, our Brother. 
 
MARY, OUR MOTHER 
 
 nPHERE is a word so tender, full and sweet, 
 The heart re-echoes what the lips repeat, 
 In tear-dimmed eyes a love-light doth appear, 
 While music seems to vibrate on the ear. 
 No tutor needs the artless tongue to teach, 
 The infant lisps it in his earliest speech, 
 Hands and bright eyes, the eager tongue fore- 
 stall 
 The child in one word. Mother, utters all. 
 
 The youth, bewildered on life's lonely way. 
 The maid, appalled, as clouds rise o'er her day. 
 The man, unhappy made by envy's frown. 
 The matron, by a hundred cares, weighed 
 
 down, 
 Feel blest, if like the infant, they may turn 
 To one true heart, that never child did spurn, 
 And with fond words, which healing balm 
 
 contain. 
 Sigh ** Mother," feeling quick surcease froni 
 
 pain. 
 
 44 
 
Mary, Our Mother 45 
 
 Once lips divine this sacred name entoned, 
 Allegiance to a human mother owned; 
 From His hard cross, she was His kind bequest, 
 Thro' John, to us. Dear Lord, be thou e'er 
 
 blest, 
 For this great privilege! Her care we need, 
 Her love maternal, prone to intercede 
 For us, when claim to favor we have none; 
 To her Thou' It hearken, for Thou art her 
 
 son. 
 
 We love thee, Mary, as the queen of May, 
 Enthroned so high, thro' Heaven's resplendent 
 
 day; 
 We love thee on dark Calvary's shadowed 
 
 height. 
 When grief was thine, and day for thee, as 
 
 night, 
 But conscious oft of hopes and anxious fears, 
 Thy title. Mother, soothes, sustains, endears; 
 Reign thou forever in God's land of Rest, 
 To call thee Mother, suits our exile best. 
 
" MARY IN ROME '' 
 
 TV/HEREVER the praises of Jesus are sung, 
 
 ^^ His Mother hath altars and shrines; 
 Wherever the bells in God's service are rung, 
 
 Our Lady hath harmonized chimes. 
 With churches by hundreds, the city of Rome 
 
 To Mary full eighty has given. 
 Where pilgrims in prayer feel at peace and at 
 home, 
 'Neath the eyes of our Mother in Heaven. 
 
 On the spot, heaven-chosen, our Lady of Snow, 
 
 Hath temple, enriched from the mine, 
 From this Esquiline height do her true chil- 
 dren know. 
 
 She is pleased that her glory should shine. 
 Our Lady of Mercy — Our Lady of Grace, 
 
 Fair Queen of the angels and men; 
 Our Lady of Victories, too, hath a place. 
 
 Of the Street, of the Vale, of the Glen. 
 46 
 
Mary in Rome 47 
 
 Our Lady of Clemency sweetly appeals, 
 
 To hearts by rude passions all torn; 
 Our Lady of Dolors, for hearts wounded, feels, 
 
 Queen of Tears, she consoles those who 
 mourn. 
 As Queen of the Mountain, as Lady of Peace, 
 
 Our Lady of Prophets— of Souls, 
 They name her, extol her, ask of her release 
 
 From flames her sweet power controls. 
 
 Devotion hath many fond titles allowed 
 
 To Mary, as Mother and Queen; 
 While princes of Church and of State have 
 endowed, 
 The shrines where her image is seen. 
 Good peasants, approaching, smile up in her 
 face, 
 With the beautiful boldness of love; 
 While high-born and titled, with modesty's 
 grace, 
 Recall the dear Lady above. 
 
 In the musical speech of the south men pro- 
 claim 
 Every day, every noon, every night, 
 
48 Mary in Rome 
 
 As a proof of their love, the Immaculate name, 
 That never knew evil or blight. 
 
 And many the record of swift-answered prayer 
 In this land where true Faith finds a home; 
 
 Ah! well would it be, should all Christian 
 hearts there 
 Love Mary as men do in Rome. 
 
TO THE SACRED HEART 
 
 CO often hath Thy dear Heart been the 
 ^ theme 
 
 Of poet's pen and fervent artist's brush, 
 Our quiet prayers would perhaps more fitting 
 seem, 
 Breathed from the soul, at twilight's solemn 
 hush. 
 And yet, and yet, with burning thoughts arise 
 To claim expression with our human speech, 
 Tho' when the tongue, with vain endeavor 
 tries, 
 It finds no word significant to reach. 
 
 Thy heart is human; well it understands 
 Trite repetitions, murmured oft before. 
 As eyes glance toward those wounded feet 
 and hands, 
 While lips rehearse, " I love Thee more and 
 more." 
 Permit us this, while gifted poets sing, 
 
 49 
 
50 To the Sacred Heart 
 
 And painters glorify their art for Thee, 
 It soothes our hearts to say the selfsame 
 thing 
 "I love Thee, Lord, and know Thou lovest 
 me." 
 
 The glowing tributes and the offerings rare, 
 
 Of others, to our souls much joy impart, 
 And in the donors' happiness we share, 
 
 Tho' we have nothing for Thy Sacred Heart. 
 But, as those Angels serve, who only wait, 
 
 About Thy throne, we, casting out all fear, 
 May enter, one day, at the Golden Gate, 
 
 And say, " I love Thee, Jesus," Thou wilt 
 hear. 
 
THERE LIES THE POWER 
 
 TY7ITH low-bowed head, before an altar 
 
 ^^ kneeling, 
 
 A priest, discouraged, offered his sad prayer, 
 His flock, so long devoid of faith and feeling. 
 Now seemed a burden far too great to bear. 
 Full of high hopes and zealous for God's glory. 
 He came into this vineyard years ago. 
 Had faithful worked, but to repeat the story. 
 Which other pastors only too well know. 
 
 " Dear Lord " — the words tear-choked, arose 
 
 full slowly — 
 " Thy useless servant from his task release: 
 Give me another, nor care I how lowly. 
 So it but prosper and my soul find peace. 
 Thy bitter chalice, I am not refusing. 
 Yet own myself unfit for this hard strife; 
 Send hither someone of Thy all-wise choosing, 
 To save these souls unto eternal life,'* 
 SI 
 
52 There Lies the Power 
 
 The sunset-splendor into shadows fading, 
 Found still the priest in suppliance at the 
 
 shrine, 
 His meek humility, e'en God persuading, 
 Won in response a favor all divine. 
 A radiant Figure, 'mid the dark appearing, 
 Showed plaited thorns and fiercely-cleaving 
 
 dart; 
 A voice of music brought these words of 
 
 cheering, 
 ** Son, teach thy flock to love my Sacred 
 
 Heart." 
 
"AT THE SHRINE OF THE SACRED 
 HEART " 
 
 /^F ALL endowments unto nature given, 
 , ^^ The noblest part, 
 Is that, which may be wrung, or wrecked, or 
 riven, 
 
 The human heart. 
 Yet, Thou, Who all our simple weakness 
 knowest, 
 
 These hearts dost crave; 
 And wonderful the lengths to which Thou 
 goest, 
 
 E'en one to save. 
 
 A tiny bird on casement ledge is singing. 
 
 Only for Thee; 
 All it possesseth to Thy altar bringing. 
 
 Thus teaching me. 
 Light, southern breezes, perfume-laden, enter, 
 
 Thy feet to kiss; 
 Finding in sunny lands no holier centre, 
 
 Nor greater bliss. 
 
 S3 
 
54 •* At the Shrine of the Sacred Heart " 
 
 A little child approaches, still betraying 
 
 A glad surprise, 
 To taper, flower, and bird are idly straying 
 
 Her curious eyes. 
 Yet Thou regardest each with looks all tender, 
 
 And calm repose, 
 Nor spurnest careless homage that they render, 
 
 Child, bird, and rose. 
 
 Charmed by the beauty of Thy tapered altar, 
 
 They linger long; 
 Nor doth the song, or prayer, one moment 
 falter. 
 
 Despite the throng. 
 Which lov'st Thou best, Lord, child, or bird, 
 or flower, 
 
 Unreasoning all. 
 Yet giving to Thee what is in their power, 
 
 Beyond recall? 
 
 Then Cometh answer, fraught with heart-felt 
 sweetness, 
 
 " Each one is dear; 
 I care not if their homage lacks completeness, 
 
 So they draw near. 
 
*' At the Shrine of the Sacred Heart " 55 
 
 But thou " — reproachful eyes toward me 
 turning, 
 
 ** Do thou thy part, 
 Respond in full to my unheeded yearning, 
 
 Give me thy heart.'' 
 
TWO WOUNDS 
 
 T TPON thy brow the hardened thorns they 
 
 ^^ press, 
 
 A gentle sigh alone speaks Thy distress; 
 
 Thy shoulder, tho' a crushing weight it bore, 
 
 Embraced the burden that would bruise it 
 
 sore; 
 The rough nails fiercely tore Thy tender hands, 
 To show us how constraining are love's bands; 
 A spear-point reached Thy Heart; it gave 
 
 relief. 
 The cleansing tide flowed toward a dying thief. 
 
 Two marble groups at foot of Holy Stair, 
 Present the Nazarene, of men most fair. 
 Towards whose sad face a smiling traitor 
 
 bends. 
 To give the signal to his new-made friends, 
 With Judas lips — "Betray est thou with a kiss? 
 Better a millstone round thy neck than this." 
 And with such meek reproach He let him go, 
 Down the dark valley of self-chosen woe. 
 56 
 
Two Wounds 57 
 
 The other sculptor's lovely thought in stone, 
 Shows Christ all beautiful, all sad, alone, 
 Thorn-crowned and purple clad, the King of 
 
 shame, 
 Facing His people; meeting no acclaim. 
 Then Pilate, wav'ring, wondering, calls aloud. 
 His " Ecce Homo " to the eager crowd. 
 But almost quails before the furious cry, 
 " Let him be crucified: this man must die! " 
 
 Than Calvary's bitterness, more bitter far, 
 
 Those deep heart-wounds, that show no out- 
 ward scar. 
 
 Laid by a hand oft met in friendly clasp, 
 
 A traitor's snare; who can its baseness grasp? 
 
 Two wounds, not named among the sacred 
 five, 
 
 Let us then reverence, and daily strive. 
 
 By loving reparation to atone 
 
 For outraged love His Sacred Heart has known. 
 
" TWO VOICES " 
 
 "YY/HISPERED the winds from a western sea, 
 
 ^^ ** There are balmy isles afar, 
 Their fragrance we bear on our wings for thee. 
 
 Who dwell *neath the eastern star; 
 There are crested waves on yon restless deep, 
 
 Long due on another shore. 
 They will carry thee on, where our cohorts 
 sweep. 
 
 And thy heart will sigh no more. 
 Our sails are white and the bark makes speed; 
 
 It outrides the ocean bird. 
 Of craft, or labor, there is no need, 
 
 When the shout, advance! is heard." 
 
 And her ear was filled with the witching strain. 
 As her soul, in trembling, turned 
 
 Toward Pleasure's port, but to hear again. 
 The song for which she yearned. 
 
 Then a " still, small voice " in accents mild, 
 s8 
 
** Two Voices " 59 
 
 Rose sweetly within her heart, 
 As soft, as the singing of little child, 
 
 Yet piercing as arrow's dart. 
 It sang of Virtue's peaceful realm, 
 
 Where sacrifice is sweet, 
 Where trials come, but cannot o'erwhelm, 
 
 Those gathered about Pierced Feet. 
 
PICTURES 
 
 YV/HAT lovely pictures to soul- vision rise! 
 ^ ^ My fingers long for prompt, artistic skill. 
 To reproduce for mine and other eyes, 
 Delineations of the scene, at will. 
 
 Twere sweet to trace such features, as we 
 dream, 
 Were Mary's, while on earth; the Infant 
 charms 
 Of Jesus; on St. Joseph's face the beam 
 Of bliss, while Babe lay slumbering in his 
 arms. 
 
 We may imagine Nazareth's fair Boy, 
 Beside the column in the Temple hall; 
 
 Meeting His mother's eye, with unfeigned joy, 
 Yielding obedience to her gentle call. 
 
 Then on that homeward journey, faces three, 
 
 Brightened with morning ray, or westward 
 
 glow, 
 
 60 
 
Pictures 61 
 
 Turned to the upper world, as if to see, 
 
 Were blessedness, e'en there they did not 
 knoWo 
 
 Around the shop, within the house, at play, 
 Seeking, with thoughtful love. His mother's 
 side. 
 How oft she cared not, if 'twere night, or 
 day — 
 In that bright Presence, all times glorified. 
 
 Ah! vain the effort! artist ne'er can reach 
 The skill to trace those lineaments divine; 
 
 Content we must be, till the soul's eyes teach 
 The faultless beauty Art cannot define. 
 
THE BRIDE'S VOW 
 
 CHE Cometh fairer than the morning rose, 
 ^ With pearly dew-drops bright, 
 Upon her brow a holy radiance glows, 
 
 Her step is true and light. 
 Like first unsullied snow, her robe, her soul, 
 
 With maiden smile and blush, 
 She now appeareth in an untried role, 
 
 Amid the temple's hush. 
 
 Some eyes are saddened, knowing they will 
 lose 
 
 The passing, graceful form. 
 The joy she doth about the hearth diffuse. 
 
 Will missing be next morn. 
 Yet she is happy; love hath softened pain. 
 
 She goeth forth a bride; 
 The home must seek no longer to retain 
 
 Its joy, its hope, its pride. 
 
 Her choice is made; her willing lips have said 
 
 The holy marriage vow; 
 
 62 
 
The Brides Vow 63 
 
 A happy prisoner is she gently led, 
 
 By one, who claims her now. 
 Claims her till death; her solemn word is 
 given; 
 
 She feeleth inward peace; 
 She knoweth vows are registered in heaven, 
 
 She asketh no release. 
 
 sweet, fair Bride! May blessings be thy 
 dower, 
 
 And sunshine, as to-day. 
 Avert the blight of discontent's dark power. 
 
 From thy still hallowed way! 
 Bear with life's ills; make lighter others' load: 
 
 Let love attune thy tongue; 
 Thy footsteps long may linger on the road, 
 
 Yet keep thy pure heart young. 
 
THE NUN'S VOWS 
 
 r\ LORD, dear Lord, behold me at Thy feet, 
 ^^ While years are few and life appeareth 
 
 sweet, 
 Yet conscious that the shining world can give 
 Nor joy, nor treasure, that fore'er shall live. 
 No lowering shadow hath my path o'erspread, 
 No dark foreboding yet awakened dread; 
 The vista of the future seemeth bright, 
 And still my heart desires holier light. 
 
 I want Thee, Lord. No creature else can 
 
 fill 
 The inner void; no other voice can thrill, 
 In low-toned music, floating on white waves, 
 As when the sea, a sun-parched shore line 
 
 bathes. 
 It might have brought content, at least, in 
 
 part, 
 To rest mine own upon another heart, 
 64 
 
The Nun's Vow 65 
 
 And quaff sweet draughts of human love, all 
 
 pure, 
 Save for the thought — how long will this 
 
 endure? 
 
 Thus grew the yearning for some higher prize, 
 Some pledge of love and hope, which never 
 
 dies, 
 A bond secure, unfailing as Thy word; 
 None such could give, save only Thee, dear 
 
 Lord. 
 The voice of pleasure chanted in the vale. 
 The song of triumph echoed on the gale, 
 Domestic joy in winning accents called, 
 But none of these reclaimed a soul once 
 
 thralled 
 
 By chains of Thine. The weakness, sin and 
 
 woe. 
 Thou found'st in me, did not my claim forego, 
 With a 1 the misery, a hope was there; 
 I turned to Thee; Thou didst not spurn my 
 
 prayer. 
 Gladness, this hour, doth in my soul hold 
 
 sway, 
 
66 The Nuns Vow 
 
 I 'm Thine, dear Lord, and will be Thine alway. 
 Oh! that my words could summon to Thy 
 
 shrine, 
 Young hearts, more fervent, purer far, than 
 
 mine! 
 
 Thy chains are golden, with a clasp em- 
 pearled. 
 They guard me from a cold and dangerous 
 
 world. 
 Each link is welded by the Hand of Love, 
 Annealed to strength by seraph flames above. 
 I feel protection in each lightsome bond. 
 And tender care, and peace, all else beyond, 
 Content am I, Thy gracious Will allows. 
 My lips to speak, today, my holy Vows. 
 
TO OUR GRADUATES 
 
 T TPON life's broad, white beach, 
 
 ^^ Somewhere, 
 
 There is a chosen spot for each, 
 
 Somewhere, 
 The post where each must work with zest, 
 The place where each will show her best, 
 The only place your hearts may rest. 
 Mankind your friends and God you guest; 
 
 Somewhere, somewhere. 
 
 This favored spot, how find, 
 
 Somewhere? 
 With tasks allotted, place assigned. 
 
 Somewhere? 
 Ah, who can tell! Hope moves in sight. 
 Ask Heaven for guidance, strength, and light 
 Apply each faculty with might. 
 Be simple, fond, sincere — all will come right, 
 
 Not here? Well, There. 
 
 67 
 
OUR FUTURES 
 
 JUST leave them to God. Do not stop to 
 portray 
 The woes or the joys of the on-coming day; 
 Weep not o'er the trials, that soon may occur, 
 And never, thus fearing, one duty defer. 
 Ne'er darken your sunshine with prospect of 
 
 clouds, 
 Spoil not your bright smile with a sneer that 
 
 enshrouds; 
 Check not your laughter's all musical flow, 
 By dreading a morrow, full-freighted with woe. 
 
 Stoop not your shoulders 'neath crosses un- 
 seen. 
 
 Shrink not from ordeals that never have 
 been; 
 
 Believe not that others intend to destroy 
 
 The blessings and gifts, which are yours to 
 enjoy. 
 
 68 
 
Our Futures 69 
 
 Hedge round your ears to the murmurer's 
 
 speech, 
 Let no false counsel your inner heart reach; 
 Borrow no trouble, that God does not send — 
 Will not His providence last to the end? 
 
 Our closely-veiled future God only can see: 
 He plans it, directs it, still leaving us free; 
 And wise is the soul that e'er simply confides 
 In the love that is truest, and always abides. 
 Then hearken no longer to prophets of ill. 
 But rejoice that our King can each promise 
 
 fulfil; 
 Should a cross come, accept it, and smilingly 
 
 bear 
 The burden, that makes us to Jesus more dear. 
 
BECAUSE I LOVE THEE 
 
 f^ OD give thee happiness. I cannot bear 
 ^-^ To think of sorrow coming soon anear, 
 To thy dear heart. My love would fain enfold 
 Thy future, lest it bitter trials hold. 
 Yet, well I know in exile thou dost dwell, 
 And must encounter what none can expel, 
 Nor do I pray no cross may come to thee, 
 For then, no crown thy heritage could be. 
 
 I ask for thee content. No other gift, 
 Can every mundane shadow gently lift, 
 Nor every cloud, which saddens, blow away. 
 To make of circling hours a perfect day. 
 My hope is that thou e'er mayst cherish right, 
 And never find in evil false delight; 
 No lofty fabric of ambition rear, 
 To darken thy best days with anxious fear. 
 
 Take no rash steps upon an unknown road. 
 
 Lest wandering feet should lead thee far from 
 
 God; 
 
 70 
 
Because I LoVe Thee 71 
 
 No secret give to friends of recent date; 
 Thou might'st regret thy folly when too late. 
 But let thy tender pity make thee kind, 
 To all, for all some inward misery find; 
 A friendly eye, a gentle word ne'er miss. 
 To cover o'er some human grief with bliss. 
 
 Because I love thee I would have thee learn 
 That pure unselfishness, which doth confirm 
 The placid joy, another's weal imparts, 
 The peace known but to true, unselfish hearts. 
 God give thee happiness, until the close, 
 Of earth's career, whose length no mortal 
 
 knows; 
 God give thee hope, e'en when thou'rt sore 
 
 distressed; 
 Because I love thee I would see thee blest 
 
MY FRIEND AFAR 
 
 QTRANGE mystery! that she who walked 
 
 *^ this road, 
 
 And held my hand, while reading thoughts 
 
 and heart, 
 Should be residing now in yon abode, 
 
 From all that sweetened life, so far apart. 
 Once did our paths lie near; vicissitudes 
 
 Came unto each and closer drew the ties, 
 Which bound us to each other; death intrudes; 
 
 Alas! in tranquil sleep my dear friend lies. 
 
 The sleep I see and partly understand. 
 
 Yet one fact marvelous my being thrills, 
 That she should dwell in yonder, unknown 
 land, 
 With bliss endowed, which every longing 
 fills. 
 So strange it seems that she, beyond those 
 skies. 
 
 Amid a dazzling throng, with fearless gaze 
 
 72 
 
My Friend Afar 73 
 
 Uplifts the tender love-light of her eyes 
 To God's great throne, engirt with seraph 
 rays. 
 
 What secrets hath she fathomed of the Real, 
 
 Instead of empty dream in mortal space? 
 What revelations, e'en for spirits, seal. 
 
 Those joys ecstatic, which earth-joys re- 
 place? 
 What I am saying, thinking, she may know. 
 
 As God permits, tho' nought to me is given. 
 Of how celestial torrents for her flow 
 
 To make the untold happiness of Heaven. 
 
 Too heavy are we with life's vexing care, 
 
 And human loves, and waiting phantom 
 ships. 
 To soar so high, nor durst we ask to share 
 
 The cup so sweet, prepared for perfect lips. 
 That Land, her home, no longer doth appear. 
 
 So far. I wonder if she can forget 
 The dear, old life spent in this lower sphere, 
 
 The golden ties — strong ties, not sundered 
 yet. 
 
'MID NODDING LILIES 
 
 CTOOD a child, by green bank playing, 
 ^^ Conning o*er some quaint child-saying, 
 Singing songs, from heart o'erflowing, 
 Pure and happy, yet scarce knowing, 
 Why those songs e'er upward floated, 
 As from bird, for music throated. 
 
 Knowing not all hearts are happy, 
 
 'Mid pure, nodding Lilies. 
 
 Stood a maiden robed, all whiteness. 
 Radiant, pure, where shone the brightness. 
 And the splendor; flowers rarest. 
 Deck the hall; to her, the fairest, 
 Were the blossoms, mem'ry cherished. 
 For the sake of childhood perished. 
 
 When she stood by green bank, happy, 
 
 'Mid fair, nodding Lilies. 
 
 Lowly now the maiden lying, 
 Heareth not our sad hearts sighing, 
 Knoweth not how we are weeping, 
 
 74 
 
'Mid Nodding Lilies 75 
 
 Thus to find her sweetly sleeping. 
 Still we feel she passed untainted, 
 Thro* a world so darkly painted, 
 
 And her joy-song still is chanted, 
 
 'Mid unfading Lilies. 
 
MORNING 
 
 A SCATTERING of mist-wreaths in far-oflF 
 ■^^ spaces, 
 
 A gentle radiance from the blushing east; 
 The zephyrs, singing matins in most places, 
 
 A freshness, as the herald of a feast. 
 The air, well freighted with the chaliced trea- 
 sures 
 Of perfumed flower-land, breathing night's 
 farewell ; 
 Soft, bird-note music, in rare, fitful measures, 
 The day's awaking to the world all tell. 
 
 Each ghostly figure on the hillside looming, 
 
 By slow degrees its outline doth reveal; 
 Where darkness was, we see the flower bloom- 
 ing, 
 Its colors brightening, as beams nearer steal. 
 The opal arch its diamond studs is losing, 
 And whiteness spreads the dull grey con- 
 cave o'er; 
 
 76 
 
Morning 77 
 
 The early bee its nectar-cup is choosing, 
 Ere swift-winged rivals rob the honeyed 
 store. 
 
 In silence shy, my Lady Day advances, 
 Seeking her azure robe of ample fold, 
 To eastward turning smiles and radiant 
 glances, 
 Where roseate hues fast blend with rays of 
 gold. 
 A burst of music and a burst of glory, 
 
 Meet in ethereal realms above our world, 
 To human ears, they tell the old, old story, 
 God's love — the banners of the morn un- 
 furled. 
 
SEPTEMBER 
 
 /^^ OLDEN hues and crimson glory 
 ^-*' Tell the oft-repeated story, 
 Of the year's maturity; 
 Now the fruit boughs, richly laden, 
 Tempt the eye of lad and maiden. 
 With ripe freight, most fair to see. 
 
 Blossoms bright with brown nut blended, 
 Speak of summer, scarcely ended. 
 And of autumn, just begun; 
 Then we realize completeness 
 Added to the summer's sweetness, 
 Signet of God's work well done. 
 
 Well for us now to remember, 
 Mid ripe glories of September, 
 What should be our lives In prime; 
 Buds of promise In full flower. 
 Virtues fruitful for soul's dower, 
 Hope of Heaven's unwintered clime. 
 
 78 
 
SEPTEMBER SONG 
 
 W/HITHER so fast, brown and golden 
 ^^ leaves? 
 
 It is not time to fall: 
 But lately, wheat was bound in golden sheaves. 
 And even yet the white dove, cooing, grieves — 
 
 Look! rose-blooms on our wall. 
 
 Where wert thou, maiden, as the summer 
 sped? 
 Were its bright days so sweet? 
 Still have their flower-crowned hours swiftly 
 
 fled; 
 Our verdant legions now lie crisp and dead, 
 E'en 'neath thy wayward feet. 
 
 Once in our spring-time glory high we waved, 
 
 Kissed by the perfumed air; 
 Now with our varied beauty is th' woodland 
 
 paved; 
 Be our best lesson on thy heart engraved, 
 
 Maiden, as yet, so fair. 
 
 79 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 IN NUT-BROWN garments, trimmed with scar- 
 ■■' let splendor, 
 
 Decay and bloom in silent conflict rife; 
 Night's chilly dew and morning mists all 
 tender, 
 
 October, thou art typical of life 
 
 The songsters seem to feel at wondrous leisure, 
 Their wheeling flocks choose eve, not morn, 
 for play, 
 
 With food outspread almost inviting seizure, 
 Their ready beaks attack the crawling prey. 
 
 With nest-recruits this bird-world swells its 
 
 numbers 
 
 To armies, pinioned for a southern flight. 
 
 While hardier creatures dream of lengthened 
 
 slumbers. 
 
 When snows shall make for them an arctic 
 
 night. 
 
 80 
 
October 81 
 
 In rich abundance ripened fruits are glowing, 
 Nut clusters harden and soon grow mature; 
 
 The vintage wealth seems almost past our 
 knowing, 
 The floral tribe too lovely to endure. 
 
 Ephemeral, bounteous, fair, this is thy story, 
 October, with thy gold and coral hues. 
 
 So, too, doth life present some transient glory. 
 And cheat us with its quick, dissolving 
 views. 
 
 But thou hast merit, for 'tis thy supplying 
 Doth fill the bin and heap our winter's 
 store. 
 So may our autumn life on earth low lying, 
 Heap treasures we may bear to Heaven's 
 door. 
 
PURGATORY 
 
 /^ SEA of flame-tipped waves, 
 ^^ With soul-barks tossing on thy fiery 
 beach; 
 Hark to the prayer that saves — 
 Send exiles to the shores they long to reach! 
 
 Lower thy wrathful crests, 
 Earth raises showers of prayer to cool their 
 heat, 
 
 Above the smile of Mary rests. 
 While friends below and angel hosts entreat. 
 
 82 
 
NOVEMBER DAYS 
 
 T^O HUMAN thinking 'tis a lonely time, 
 ■'' When nature sheds her lustre at the 
 
 tomb; 
 But faith hath calculations more sublime; 
 When good arise th, it dispels the gloom. 
 And good is done, although the sky be dark, 
 'Mong exiles from the peaceful, heavenly 
 court. 
 Who lie in flames and gently eager, hark 
 To summons from the true, celestial port. 
 
 They know themselves unworthy yet to rise, 
 To heights where blissful souls find peaceful 
 rest, 
 Yet toward that exit ever turn their sighs, 
 Not theirs to reach, while still by debt 
 oppressed. 
 Helpless for self, each pilgrim begs for aid. 
 And toward the earthly home expectant 
 turns; 
 
 S3 
 
84 November Days 
 
 Who can refuse? till the last farthing paid, 
 The ransomed soul no more in torment 
 burns. 
 
 Blessed the Church, whose mother-hand ex- 
 tends, 
 
 Her wondrous power to lessen penal fires, 
 Who e*en beyond the grave her favor sends, 
 
 Which eases pain and holy hope inspires. 
 So let us prize these dark, November days. 
 
 Because they open oft the Gates of Light, 
 To swell the chorus of eternal praise 
 
 Thro* Heaven's day, which closeth not in 
 night. 
 
LESSON OF THE GOOD 
 
 /^H! THERE shine lights from overhanging 
 ^^ skies, 
 
 With glittering effulgence, tho* afar; 
 We care not what their distance, weight, or 
 size, 
 
 We love their beauty, calling each a star. 
 When day's decline hath sent long shadows 
 down. 
 
 And we are stumbling on a darkened way, 
 When joys, so sweet till now, assume a frown. 
 
 We grieve because our sun hath gone away. 
 
 Then shine the stars, their brightness waxing 
 strong. 
 As darkness deepens, till their tender light. 
 Makes us forget the road is lone and long. 
 Makes us in love with gentle, soothing 
 night. 
 It seems a season for the spirit's rest, 
 8s 
 
86 Lesson of the Good 
 
 After the rushing of Kfe's happiest hours; 
 It checks the current of too eager quest, 
 For those, who shun the thorns to seek but 
 flowers. 
 
 Our earth is beautiful as it reflects 
 The lights o'er head — the heavens* gladdest 
 hues. 
 The ocean mirrors cloudland's gay effects, 
 
 In pearly foam and strangely varied blues. 
 Thus with our souls. They mirror from 
 above; 
 That will prevail, which highest we en- 
 throne; 
 Our lives wear colors of the things we love, 
 From strains most dear will come the spirit's 
 tone. 
 
 Oh! there are stars below, too near to shine. 
 Kind, simple lives, whose glowing lamps 
 within 
 Make possible existence; like divine 
 Their mission is, throughout this world of 
 sin. 
 We do not always recognize their worth 
 
Lesson of the Good 87 
 
 Tho' oft we love them for their kindly 
 deeds; 
 They show their radiance in a later birth, 
 Where their new splendor both adorns and 
 pleads. 
 
HOW FEW! 
 
 T^ULL is our world of music, beauty, love, 
 •■■ Earth's measured portion of glad Heaven's 
 
 completeness. 
 And man's experience doth most surely prove 
 How small the meed that cometh from above, 
 To mortals here, of this celestial sweetness. 
 
 The glittering iceberg, with its crystal spire, 
 To human eyes how few, reflects its glory; 
 The pulsing flames those northern skies that 
 
 fire, 
 The rain-bow hues, that blossom and expire, 
 To us, seem like some lovely, half-true story. 
 
 In tropic wastes, how many blossoms hide, 
 Which human sight shall not enjoy beholding. 
 While ice-flowers brighten lofty mountain 
 
 side. 
 And lilies float on many a water tide. 
 To few, but angel eyes, their leaves unfolding. 
 
How Few! 89 
 
 And oh! to think in that vast world of song, 
 What wondrous melodies make sweet vibra- 
 tions, 
 And yet how few to us the strains prolong, 
 Of voice, bird-note, or ocean surges strong. 
 To cheer us with ecstatic revelations. 
 
 How many have our souls with love enshrined, 
 Friends, gentle, noble, worthy of our wooing, 
 And when our heart-strings closely were en- 
 twined. 
 We sudden woke, with dumb surprise to find. 
 Them gone, beyond the reach of our pur- 
 suing. 
 
 Ne'er shall we have, below, all things we 
 
 would; 
 Then earth would heaven be, and we, evading, 
 Might grow, like men, in Paradise who stood. 
 Without one thought of any better good. 
 Or any crown of happiness unfading. 
 
 Our little lives are much too brief to clasp. 
 All gifts supernal in our weak embraces, 
 Time oft withholds the boons we daily ask; 
 
90 How Few! 
 
 Soon childhood's pleasures wear a sober mask, 
 And v/e grow restless in allotted places. 
 
 So few, so few, of this world's treasures rare, 
 Can come to us, or stay, when we possess them; 
 They are but types of heavenly gifts, more 
 
 fair. 
 Of which our yearning hearts may win full 
 
 share. 
 Without the fear of losing to distress them. 
 
MARIE STEWART 
 
 /^ Head, twice diademed, and triple heir 
 ^^ To regal honors which the world denied! 
 gentle soul and face so wondrous fair, 
 And poor cleft heart by sorrow often tried! 
 How sad the life that made thee, smiling, hear 
 The hammer's blow upon the scaffold frame; 
 How great the soul that never thrilled with 
 
 fear, 
 While England wrought her tragedy of shame. 
 
 91 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 T^HIS place is full of memories. Every tree, 
 **■ Like verdant monument, recalls some 
 
 scene, 
 Each trailing vine, suggestive seems to be. 
 Renewing ties, as doth its tendrils green. 
 A flower looks up like some fair childish face, 
 
 That was among the groups of long ago; 
 Along the paths I almost see the trace 
 Of tripping footsteps, going to and fro. 
 
 And in yon hall what serried ranks arise. 
 
 The girlish forms of many a passing year, 
 With misty, or with merry laughing eyes. 
 
 So quick to brighten, or to find a tear. 
 And voices that have changed, or silent grown, 
 
 Again wake mystic murmurs on the air. 
 They sing, they speak, they make their sor- 
 rows known, 
 
 Or blend in sweet harmonious hymn and 
 
 prayer. 
 
 92 
 
Memories 93 
 
 Within those sacred walls, no artist brush 
 
 Could paint such varied panoramic views, 
 As Memory's pencil, in the solemn hush 
 
 Of gathering twilight, to my mind renews. 
 Before that altar young hearts often prayed. 
 
 And older lips have spoken sacred vows, 
 And there hath many a quiet form been laid. 
 
 Whose soul hath fled at summons of the 
 Spouse. 
 
 Yet all is beautiful; the living days 
 Are never marred by Recollection's hand; 
 
 Life brings us to the " parting of the ways," 
 But bids us not in idle weeping stand. 
 
 The tide is forward, and we, too, must press 
 On to a goal, more bright than any past. 
 
 Where memory and hope combined, will bless 
 
 A day of meeting, which fore'er will last. 
 
TO MY MOTHER 
 
 r^ OLDEN the bond, and close and wondrous 
 ^^ sweet, 
 
 That binds my heart to thine, 
 Apart, or near thee, years do but complete, 
 
 The ties, which both confine. 
 Our love, dear mother, with my life began, 
 
 But not with life, shall end; 
 Together, once we've crossed this earthly 
 span, 
 
 Eternity we'll spend. 
 
 Thy presence will felicity increase; 
 
 E'en in that perfect place. 
 But needed more on earth the heart-felt peace. 
 
 At sight of thy dear face. 
 God love thee! Thou didst kiss away the ills 
 
 Of childhood's reckless hours. 
 And, now, in sober years, thy image fills 
 
 A niche, 'mid memory's flowers, 
 
 94 
 
To My Mother 95 
 
 Where I behold thee, sacredly enshrined, 
 
 Whether afar, or near; 
 Toward me ever lovingly inclined, 
 
 And always to me, dear. 
 Without thy love, life were a shadowed way. 
 
 And I, a child forlorn; 
 Thy smile hath brightened every darksome 
 day. 
 
 Thy hand plucked ev'ry thorn. 
 
 While deeply in my inmost soul abides 
 
 A perfect trust; no, thou 
 Wilt never fail me; whatsoe'er betides, 
 
 Thou'lt love me then, as now. 
 I love thee, Mother. Faithful to thy part, 
 
 Thou'st taught each youthful soul, 
 To seek sure haven in the Sacred Heart, 
 
 To find the highest goal. 
 
GOD AND THE ANGELS KNEW 
 
 A SILVERY light in a curtained room, 
 ^~^ Night's solemn hour, without night's 
 
 gloom; 
 A wasted form on the white bed laid. 
 Whose debt to nature seemed almost paid. 
 Careful watchers, with bated breath, 
 Prayed and wondered if this were death. 
 They saw no change in the pallid hue, 
 God held their eyes, but the angels knew. 
 
 At the twilight hour had kind friends come 
 To ask how it fared with the suffering one; 
 The gentle word and assuring smile. 
 Sent each to untroubled sleep awhile. 
 Perhaps she had prayed that it thus might be. 
 That her passing none on this earth should 
 
 see. 
 So the fever heat cooled to heavenly dew, 
 While only God and His angels knew. 
 
 Thus was her passing, as life had been, 
 96 
 
God and the Angels Knew 97 
 
 Silent, and patient, and lost in Him; 
 
 A slipping away from the world's cold gaze, 
 
 Into the warmth of celestial rays. 
 
 The cross was lifted, the clouds dispersed. 
 
 As the soul alone with her God conversed, 
 
 Earth faded before the Eternal view. 
 
 While only God and His angels knew. 
 
"PEACE, BE STILL" 
 
 CAT a fair child joyous singing, 
 ^ On a daisied bank, one day. 
 When with martial music ringing. 
 
 Passed an army on its way, 
 To a field of bloody slaughter, 
 
 Where so many shall lie low. 
 But the farmer's little daughter 
 
 Dreamed not of impending woe. 
 
 So the child-play went on gaily, 
 
 And the child's song, clear and sweet. 
 Rose on morning breezes daily. 
 
 Whether victory, or defeat 
 Was the fate of columns serried. 
 
 She scarce noted passing by. 
 To be on the dark plain buried, 
 
 Or return with banners high. 
 
 Such is life— a mimic battle; 
 
 By us rushes the rude world 
 
 98 
 
-Peace, be Stiir' 99 
 
 With incessant din and rattle 
 
 Music loud and flag unfurled; 
 While we may, like child, unknowing, 
 
 See the march and hear the din, 
 Resting on our bank, breeze blowing, 
 
 Naught to mar the peace within. 
 
 Oh! life's restless, ceaseless current, 
 
 With hoarse murmur and complain. 
 Swelling wide from stream to torrent 
 
 No man's power can restrain. 
 Oh! vast army marching ever, 
 
 To excitement's trumpet blare, 
 Your wild course will lead you never 
 
 To sweet peace, nor flowerland fair! 
 
 We are happy calmly sitting, 
 
 Where contentment bids us stay. 
 E'en while crowds, before us flitting. 
 
 Mock us for our weak delay, 
 We still chant our song of gladness. 
 
 On our daisied throne of peace. 
 Trusting childlike, free from sadness. 
 
 Till that day when strife must cease. 
 
UNDER THE SHADOWS 
 
 T TNDER the shadows our footsteps e'er tend, 
 ^^ Whichever the pathway we tread, 
 Whether in passing, or just as it ends. 
 
 Life leads to the point we all dread. 
 In the heydey of youth, many enter the shade. 
 
 And many, who e hair has turned grey; 
 And some, with the plans for a future well 
 laid. 
 
 Grow conscious of hope's first decay. 
 
 An illness, misfortune, an accident — death. 
 
 Is the passport we're sure to receive; 
 And quick to the world goes the gossiping 
 breath, 
 
 That its circles we're destined to leave. 
 Are we missed? Very little. For others 
 advance; 
 
 The career that has latest begun. 
 Finds oft in our absence a coveted chance; 
 
 Men turn to the new-risen sun. 
 
Under the Shadows lOI 
 
 We have passed 'neath the shadows. The 
 world still turns round; 
 There Is business, and pleasure, and mirth; 
 Few hearts will regret us, except those close 
 bound 
 By the links welded near the home hearth. 
 To pass 'neath the shadows, poor, helpless, 
 and ill, 
 By the hand of disease — in sharp pain, 
 To see others moving and yet to lie still, 
 To lose, while we know others gain, 
 
 To nature is hard. Yet these desolate hours, 
 
 Bring us nearer to what Heaven holds, 
 And to eyes, viewing earth with their fast 
 failing powers, 
 A rare vision of beauty unfolds. 
 What we lose, seems a trifle; a treasure we 
 win; 
 There is peace 'neath the shadows, sweet 
 peace, 
 And the heart thus bereft sees a future begin. 
 Of pure happiness never to cease. 
 
COMPLETE 
 
 'T'HERE IS no night without its gleaming star, 
 **• No sunless day, 
 
 No restless sea, without its sandy bar, 
 
 And shallow bay. 
 No troubled day, without its twilight calm, 
 
 To soothe the heart. 
 No aching void, without some healing balm, 
 
 When woes depart. 
 
 There is no road without a welcome turn 
 
 Toward shadows cool. 
 Inviting onward weary feet that burn. 
 
 To limpid pool. 
 No gurgling spring without a singing rill, 
 
 Down rocky steep. 
 No valley fair without its sheltering hill, 
 
 Where violets sleep. 
 
 No mountain fastness without some poor home 
 For God's wild things. 
 
Complete 103 
 
 Nor stately tree but lifteth leafy dome, 
 
 To shelter wings. 
 No ocean vast without its pebbled beach, 
 
 No unknown soul, 
 With aspirations that she may not reach. 
 
 And find her goal. 
 
THE MAGIC SCARF 
 
 T AM weaving a scarf of the woes of life, 
 
 Its gruesome hue relieved, 
 With a thread of gold, neither bought, nor 
 sold, 
 But picked from the seams of strife. 
 
 I put on my scarf in the early morn. 
 And wear it throughout the day, 
 
 Ignoring its hue, while the gold shines thro', 
 To guide to a happier way. 
 
 I take off my scarf in the tranquil gloom. 
 When heaven is rich with stars; 
 
 For this hour brings rest to a trustful breast, 
 And trials find daily tomb. 
 
 You may gather your share of the golden 
 
 threads, 
 
 If you watch for them every day, 
 
 And close your eyes to the sad surprise, 
 
 Often seen by the heart, which dreads. 
 104 
 
The Magic Scarf 105 
 
 Your scarf will lengthen, as you go on, 
 And the woof grow wondrous bright, 
 
 If a gentle tongue keeps the heart still young, 
 When our youthful joys are gone. 
 
 How many are wearing a scarf of woes, 
 
 Without a glint of gold, 
 And never dream of the rough-edged seam, 
 
 Where the shining threads repose. 
 
TO A YOUNG GIRL 
 
 T^HOU must be holy. Day by day impress 
 "*■ This lesson deeply on thy youthful 
 heart; 
 Wait not until dark visions of distress 
 Shall cloud thy light and bid thy joys 
 depart. 
 
 Virtue alone can guide to ports of peace; 
 
 Virtue alone can teach thee to endure; 
 This treasure every day and hour increase; 
 
 Be virtue thine, the rest is all secure. 
 
 io6 
 
BESIDE THE WELL 
 
 JESUS, aweary, rests beside the well. 
 While toward the city His disciples go 
 Seeking life's sustenance. He fain would 
 tell 
 Some soul, where living waters ever flow. 
 One comes, a woman — outwardly most fair, 
 
 At heart, alas! all cancerous with sin. 
 She sees the Nazarene sit meekly there, 
 She feels a new emotion stir within. 
 
 Infinite tenderness is in His gaze. 
 The Heart's deep pity, beaming thro' His 
 eyes, 
 And she, used but to worldly wicked ways. 
 Returns the look with trembling, shy sur- 
 prise. 
 He asks for water — Was this Jew deceived? 
 
 And knew he not, Samaritan was she? 
 But His request her troubled soul relieved. 
 
 The jar she proffered almost eagerly. 
 
 107 
 
108 Beside the Well 
 
 *' He is from God," she mused, ** What e'er 
 his speech," 
 And when He told her of her crimes, she 
 cried, 
 ** Sir, may I not the living waters reach. 
 
 And bathe my soul in the all-healing tide? " 
 'Twas all He wished; his Heart's zeal brightly 
 burned; 
 Of saving waters, He would gladly give; 
 And when they brought Him food, 'twas 
 gently spurned, 
 'Tis not by bread alone that man must live. 
 
IN HALLS OF SILENCE 
 
 'T'HERE are vast Halls of Silence, where we 
 •*• pace, 
 
 In close communion with our inner selves; 
 The world far off — soul with self, face to face. 
 With view of naught, save what within us 
 
 dwells. 
 The spirit waketh to some higher ken. 
 And, spreading wings, soars upward toward 
 
 the stars. 
 Strikes vaulted roof, falls gently back again, 
 Constrained by strong, unriven mortal bars. 
 
 In those blest Halls of Silence there is peace, 
 
 For all who love an atmosphere so pure. 
 
 But hearts, where stormy passions rarely 
 
 cease. 
 
 Inhale such air, they cannot well endure. 
 
 Not long will restless souls herein delay, 
 
 Self, as a crushing weight, must bring them 
 
 low; 
 
 109 
 
1 10 In Halls of Silence 
 
 The vision is too clear; it wakes dismay, 
 With covered faces far away they go. 
 
 In those dear Halls of Silence, we may seek. 
 Companionship this earthly scene denies; 
 There to a patient One, may freely speak. 
 Without the noise of words, yet hear replies. 
 But love must make the mutual eloquence, 
 And form the mutual bond, with mystic art; 
 For love alone can give us confidence 
 In near approach to Christ's dear Sacred 
 Heart. 
 
FLY, BIRD OF CENTURY 
 
 ]W[ IGHTY, Bird of Century, thy flight, 
 ^^^ Thro' realms of fancy and sciences un- 
 known; 
 Aerial journeys toward the poles of night. 
 And landward wingings into every zone. 
 Emboldened by material success, 
 Thou hast intruded where God set His 
 bound, 
 And what thou couldst not fathom, dared to 
 guess. 
 And, to the world, proclaimed truth had 
 been found. 
 
 The World, like Pilate, asks thee, " What is 
 truth? " 
 Then turns away in haste, lest it should hear 
 Something that might disturb its peace, for- 
 sooth. 
 And fill its narrow soul with wholesome fear. 
 Bird of Century, thy pinions wide 
 
112 Fly, Bird of Century 
 
 Have flown too low, too far from the Great 
 Good; 
 Thou hast been blinded by o'erweening pride 
 And in religion's place set *' brotherhood." 
 
 Advancement do they term thy rapid sweep? 
 
 Still not all perfect, progress like to thine; 
 Men have not learned from thee, clean hearts 
 to keep. 
 
 Nor souls, to seek their destiny divine. 
 Tongues have not from their words false 
 venom cast; 
 
 Fly, Bird of Century, with drooping plume, 
 Thy place is in the dark, enshrouded past; 
 
 God's blessing will this era new relume. 
 
"ON SEA" 
 
 A ND this is God's wide Sea! 
 ^"^ How glorious is its wonderful expanse 
 When waves dare to the heavens advance, 
 And shadowed waters kiss the azure sky, 
 On every side, that meets the wanderer's eye, 
 As but a tiny speck, this noble bark. 
 Rocks on the billows of the ocean dark, 
 And sore-distressed our coward hearts would 
 
 be, 
 Did we not rest, God, our hopes on Thee? 
 
 This is God's stormy sea! 
 How terribly sublime its foamy wrath! 
 How mountainous appears the vessel's path. 
 A leaden firmament the scene obscures. 
 Each angry billow to destruction lures. 
 Fierce, roaring winds our terrors but increase, 
 Until the Master calmly sayeth, ** Cease." 
 With joyful hearts and humbly bended knee, 
 We offer grateful prayers, God, to Thee. 
 
 "3 
 
114 -On Sea'* 
 
 This is God's moon-lit sea! 
 A silver radiance on each wavelet shines, 
 And noiseless currents flow in burnished lines 
 The crest-wreaths break with opalescent 
 
 gleams, 
 And all is beautiful, as youth's fair dreams. 
 So calmly beautiful, so soothing sweet. 
 An hour to bring us singing, to Thy feet, 
 That with the midnight murmurs of the sea 
 We, too, may offer vocal praise to Thee. 
 
 This is God's sunny sea! 
 The silver of the moon-ray now doth merge, 
 Into the richer hues of golden surge, 
 In dazzling splendor dance the waves along, 
 Suggestive of a gaily festive throng. 
 Sea-gulls and swallows gradually appear, 
 Revealing there are verdant shores a-near, 
 And we rejoice, a port secure to see. 
 Lord, may life's voyage take us safe to Thee! 
 
A BIRD AT SEA 
 
 T^HE great Atlantic tossed Its feathery foam, 
 •*• Miles many from the wanderer's nearest 
 home, 
 When lo! a little bird did fearless roam 
 
 The untracked realms of air. 
 We saw no land. Can that small eye 
 
 retain 
 A picture of the shore, beyond the main? 
 Its heart expect safe harbor to regain 
 
 Trusting its Maker's care? 
 
 The little pilgrim was in livery drest 
 
 Of ocean colors; white, like billow's crest. 
 
 With sea-grey plumage o'er its snowy vest, 
 
 Its bright eye bold and free. 
 Sometimes the bird our steamer deftly 
 
 passed. 
 Sometimes it poised and rocked upon the 
 
 blast, 
 
116 A Bird at Sea 
 
 Again it, resting on the highest mast, 
 Looked down askance to see. 
 
 Could it be any innate love of change, 
 
 Or human wish to visit climes more strange, 
 
 Had led this tiny traveler far to range, 
 
 Eager for what is new? 
 We guessed its home to be some island cave; 
 A rocky cavern, o'er dark prisoned wave, 
 Where flocks akin their wide-spread pinions 
 lave, 
 
 Yet no isle was in view. 
 
 Tho* many started, one alone could dare. 
 This long, wing-voyage thro' the sunny air. 
 Nor had its fellows tried the flight to share. 
 
 Beyond the sea-mews' call. 
 Eve's shadows fell; the small craft slackened 
 
 speed. 
 It faded, vanished, never taking heed 
 Of us, who wondered if an hour of need 
 
 Should yet the bird befall. 
 
 Nor do we know, if on its darkened way, 
 It lost its bearings toward the sheltered bay, 
 
A Bird at Sea 117 
 
 And met destruction ere the light of day, 
 
 Beneath a treacherous sea. 
 Tho' from its throat no gladsome song we 
 
 heard, 
 Its act was stronger than e'en spoken word, 
 A lesson sweet was taught us by that bird 
 
 Of trust, Lord, in Thee! 
 
WALKS IN ROME 
 
 QTRANGE and unreal the fleeting days seem, 
 ^ Walking the streets of Rome; 
 Present and past blent, as oft in a dream, 
 We wander about an old home. 
 In all God's earth shall we nowhere else find. 
 Pagan and Christian art closely combined; 
 Arches of triumph for shedding of blood, 
 When Rome sent her legions o'er mountain 
 
 and flood. 
 Each narrow street, where a palace arose 
 In splendor and beauty and strength against 
 
 foes, 
 Can, doubtless, tales marvelous to us unfold. 
 Suggestive of more that shall never be told. 
 
 Childhood's best fairyland could not invent 
 
 Contrasts so strikingly bold, 
 Youth's wildest visions could never present 
 The fullness of all we behold. 
 Mighty indeed must that nation have grown, 
 Whose records remain of a world overthrown, 
 
 ii8 
 
Walks in Rome 119 
 
 Yet the homes of its Caesars have crumbled 
 
 to dust, 
 And swords of its heroes are eaten with rust. 
 But Constantine's Labarum still waves on 
 
 high, 
 No longer the Christian comes forth but to die; 
 The temples of God have false temples defied. 
 And the glories of Faith supplant glories of 
 
 pride. 
 
 One we have seen, on whose brow shadows 
 rest, 
 Dwelling, secluded, in Rome, 
 For on that brow is a thorny crown pressed; 
 Earth offers no other home. 
 Here, till the end, must he patiently wait, 
 Sweetly submissive to this unsought fate; 
 " Quo vadis, Pio? " none to him shall say. 
 Until he can answer, ** God calls me away.'* 
 So Rome, with her beauty, her relics, her lore. 
 Can offer no picture that touches us more. 
 Than Pius the Tenth, with his mild, beaming 
 
 eyes, 
 From which scarce hath vanished a mourn- 
 ful surprise. 
 
IN HEAVEN WE KNOW OUR OWN 
 
 YV7HEN we have passed from out this 
 ^^ shadowed gloaming, 
 
 And hear no more the Vesper bells of earth, 
 Shall we, with happy, kindred spirits roaming. 
 
 Rejoice together in this second birth? 
 
 When standing by that Land's unceasing river. 
 We note a tiny soul bark on the tide. 
 
 Can we say, looking toward the great good- 
 giver, 
 " Lol one I loved upon the other side? " 
 
 And when the jeweled, jasper gates wide 
 swinging. 
 Will tell us that a ransomed crowd comes 
 home. 
 Can we, among the grateful voices ringing. 
 Be first to recognize a dear one's tone? 
 
In Heaven We Know Our Own 121 
 
 And looking on those heavenly lighted faces, 
 Can we the friends of other days descry, 
 
 The' now adorned with fair, transcendent 
 graces 
 To fit them for this dwelling pure and high? 
 
 Oh! what a joy, to see bright wreaths immortal 
 On brows our heart's love crowned in fleet- 
 ing time; 
 And with what bliss we hail the op'ning 
 portal 
 That brings a new guest to this feast divine! 
 
 And when one comes, who aught to me has 
 given, 
 The lightest care — a gentle soothing word — 
 I shall kneel, praying to the King of Heaven, 
 " A thousand blessings for their kindness, 
 Lord." 
 
 There will be peace forever and forever. 
 When all our Father's children are at home. 
 
 No strangers there; no fear that we must 
 sever, 
 Methinks in heaven we shall know our own. 
 
ST. STANISLAUS 
 
 /^NLY a dark-eyed Polish boy, 
 
 ^^ In whose ancestral halls 
 
 The martyr's palm and warrior's plume, 
 
 Hung high on time-stained walls. 
 A crown elective, he might win, 
 
 His was a royal race. 
 But dreams of earthly honors ne'er 
 
 In his meek soul found place. 
 
 His sanctity had been foretold, 
 
 And so his mother knew 
 The babe she held with reverent love 
 
 Was of the " chosen few," 
 Who never yield to blighting sin, 
 
 Tho' well the cross they know; 
 Who look upon earth's highest joys 
 
 As part of earth's false show. 
 
 The world his boyish form admired. 
 His mien — his glorious eyes, 
 
St. Stanislaus 123 
 
 But Stanislaus, ignoring praise, 
 Gazed only toward the skies. 
 
 And seemed to feel no azure vault, 
 Between his soul and God; 
 
 Seraphic love made Heaven for him 
 While this dark vale he trod. 
 
 To old Vienna came our youth, 
 
 To do a student's part, 
 There stand harsh persecution's test. 
 
 With all his saintly art. 
 A brother's sneer — a brother's arm 
 
 Assailed him day by day, 
 Until one shadowed night, alone, 
 
 The poor child fled away. 
 
 The prompt pursuit of wrathful Paul 
 
 Failed — tho' his steeds were fleet, 
 While blessed Canisius read the soul 
 
 Soft pleading at his feet. 
 And welcomed Stanislaus as one 
 
 Whom God had brought to dwell 
 Beneath religion's sacred roof. 
 
 In Jesuit's bare-walled cell. 
 
124 St. Stanislaus 
 
 Brief was his stay. A novice still 
 
 Within the house at Rome, 
 He lingered scarcely two brief years, 
 
 When angels called him home. 
 Oh! what a wondrous scene at death, 
 
 Ere youth and beauty fled, 
 The Queen of Heaven herself appears — 
 
 Our Stanislaus lies dead. 
 
 Only a dark-eyed Polish boy, 
 
 Yet many lands proclaim 
 His glories to a listening world, 
 
 His virtues — his blest name. 
 Wherever young and fervent souls, 
 
 His counsels keep to-day, 
 Around the shrine of Stanislaus, 
 
 They humbly kneel to pray. 
 
 The heroes whose great names go forth, 
 
 On fame's far-flying wings, 
 Receive such honors as they prized. 
 
 Such tribute as earth brings. 
 But only homage of true hearts 
 
 To Stanislaus is given. 
 By those who long to imitate, 
 
 And dwell with him in Heaven. 
 
TWICE AT THE HELLESPONT " 
 
 Argument: — Xerxes, king of Persia, was son of Darius 
 and Atossa and grandson of Cambyses. His first desire 
 after ascending the throne was to conquer Greece, but 
 the question was long mooted among his councilors, of 
 whom the chief were Mardonius, an experienced general, 
 and his uncle Artobanes, a wise and peaceful-minded 
 statesman. Their advice accorded with their respective 
 characters. Xerxes was inclined to listen to his uncle, 
 who objected to the war, when an apparition threatened, 
 and terrified the king for three nights, and produced a 
 reaction in his sentiments. Never before in the world's 
 history had so grand an expedition been planned and 
 carried out; a bridge of boats was built across the Helles- 
 pont, over which passed, as in review before the exultant 
 king, the multitudes constituting his vast and motley 
 host. 
 
 Alas, for the fallacy of human hopes! the monarch in 
 his glory wept, thinking — " where will all these be a 
 hundred years from now? " The expedition was soon 
 brought to a close most disastrous for the Persians; — 
 the Greeks were fighting on their own soil — their valor 
 outweighed the numbers of the effeminate Asiatics. 
 The battle of Salamis frustrated the Persian hopes, Xerxes 
 fled almost alone, and finding his great bridge at the 
 Hellespont shattered, was obliged to cross the strait in 
 an open boat — what a contrast! 
 125 
 
1 26 ** Twice at the Hellespont " 
 
 T TPON a throne of glittering marble carved, 
 ^^ Proud Xerxes sat beside the Hellespont; 
 His bridge of boats across the waters stretched, 
 In readiness for Persia's countless hordes, 
 Those straggling thousands, now to venture 
 
 o'er: 
 Europe and Asia, both must be their prey. 
 Apparelled with magnificence, the King 
 His glory sought to feel, and others make 
 To feel it too. About the monarch stood, 
 A splendid retinue with dazzling arms 
 And ornaments. Ne'er such a scene as this 
 Had daybreak gilded by the Hellespont! 
 The wondrous roadway from Abydos lay 
 O'er waters dark to Sestos' massive gate. 
 To see the great procession slowly tread 
 That bridge of Persian skill, proud Xerxes 
 
 smiled. 
 And gloried as the master of the host. 
 First came the baggage trains, fine horses, 
 
 mules. 
 And camels bearing stores immensely great; 
 Drivers and keepers, too, attending them. 
 Next marched a troop of many nations, well 
 
''Twice at the Hellespont'' 127 
 
 Commanded, but arranged with want of skill; 
 Then splended horsemen, rich caparisoned, 
 And myriad spearmen, weapons trailing low. 
 In token of submission to the King. 
 Banners, with strange device and talisman. 
 Their gaudy pennons flaunted to the breeze. 
 Secure, with warriors to the front and rear. 
 Priests carried symbols of their mystic rites. 
 Then poured the serried legions, rank on 
 
 rank. 
 With costly raiment clad, but sad at heart. 
 What cared they for a blood-bought conquest, 
 
 fruit 
 Of Persia's pride? Their weary limbs, sore 
 
 ached. 
 Beneath their vesture's bright and motley 
 
 hue; 
 
 They sickened at the memories of home. 
 Oft cursed the future and its dismal fate. 
 Hopeless and wretched, o'er the bridge they 
 
 marched, 
 While Xerxes gazed exultant on their ranks. 
 But see! a cloud is gathering on the brow 
 Beneath the diadem. What! Xerxes weeps? 
 
128 "Twice at the Hellespont'* 
 
 ** Smile not, Mardonius, at my gathering tears, 
 They prove no recreant heart, nor childish 
 fears; 
 
 Such thmgs befit not me; 
 But as I gaze this gorgeous scene upon, 
 The thought arises, * a hundred years to come 
 
 Where will these thousands be? ' 
 
 **As surge they now across the mighty span. 
 As in the pageant man quick follows man, 
 
 So shall they cross life's sea; 
 Once o'er that gulf beyond our human ken, 
 On what victorious field shall they rest then, 
 
 Where will these thousands be? 
 
 **0 gallant warriors! must ye pass away? 
 And I too with ye? Bitter be the day 
 
 That brought us such a doom! 
 Is all this pageant but an empty dream? 
 Must time's resistless hand soon shift the scene 
 
 And cloud us in the tomb? 
 
 "I'll weep no more! There's glory to be won, 
 Before my grand career is fairly run; 
 Athens must yield, or burn. 
 
"Twice at the Hellespont'' 129 
 
 I'll suffer no strange power in this wide world, 
 To mock at banner Persia once unfurled; 
 Bold Greece our threats did spurn. 
 
 ** Dear shall her folly cost; her fault she'll rue, 
 For this across the strait the great bridge grew, 
 
 For this we've risked our all. 
 Great Cyrus dreamed of conquering distant 
 
 Greece, 
 Darius planned the war in days of peace, 
 
 On me their mantles fall. 
 
 **Love I not well to hear the trumpet's blast? 
 Can I not share the soldiers' rude repast, 
 
 And march steel-clad like them? 
 Thou knowest, Mardonius, how my boyish 
 
 arm 
 Could quick avenge some real, or fancied harm; 
 
 I was a man 'mong men. 
 
 " But, Artobanes, years have cooled thy blood. 
 Thou look'st on war, as a destructive flood. 
 
 Good uncle, frown not now — 
 Back thou to Sardis: help to rule the state. 
 And bid my mother patiently await 
 
 Her son with laureled brow. 
 
130 ''Twice at the Hellespont'* 
 
 ** Yea, we shall come again with victor's plumes, 
 Leaving pale Greece in tears o'er many tombs; 
 
 Wailing her captives led 
 In chains o'er desert waste; my heart is 
 
 thrilled, 
 Dreaming of days, when with fond hopes 
 fulfilled. 
 Again this road we'll tread. 
 
 "But see! the rear guard's moving slowly on. 
 Bring here my chariot, we, too, must be gone. 
 
 Good uncle, all adieu! 
 Tell brave Atossa when the grain is gold, 
 We will return for harvest as of old, 
 
 To your good queen be true! " 
 
 The stately chariot lumbered on its way, 
 King Xerxes bearing to the battle-field, 
 And then — Thermopylae defied the hordes. 
 Brave red-robed Spartans calmly dressed their 
 
 hair 
 For battle, as would Persians for a feast. 
 Before the iron valor of the Greek, 
 Those numbers failed. At Salamis, was struck 
 The fatal blow — Xerxes, ere many days, 
 
''Twice at the Hellespont*' 131 
 
 Despairing, crushed, stood by the Hellespont 
 Once more, but ah! the change! his mighty 
 
 bridge 
 Was shattered — his last hope forever fled. 
 
 " Avenging gods! the great bridge torn away? 
 But I must cross in haste, this very day. 
 
 Methought I heard a shout. 
 Quick! quick! the tide is dark — Come hither, 
 
 slave! 
 Untie your boat; the rushing stream I'll brave, 
 
 I am the king — push out. 
 
 "Was that the tramp of horse, or whistling wind? 
 Think'st thou my lurking foes press close 
 behind? 
 Let us not tarry here — 
 What was that sound? Come man, my hands 
 
 are weak, 
 Row thou this craft — perchance some skulking 
 Greek 
 With dark intent steals near. 
 
 "Surely none know poor Xerxes now — Alas! 
 That Persia's king should come to such a pass 
 
132 ** Twice at the Hellespont** 
 
 Well may I o'er this weep. 
 How will Atossa's haughty eye grow dim, 
 To see a fugitive steal softly in, 
 
 When all are wrapped in sleep. 
 
 "At Hellespont again: — cursed be the hour, 
 I dared to tempt the sturdy Grecian power. 
 
 On its own cherished soil. 
 From Hades came that spectre of the night 
 That lured me to my doom — Ah! shameful 
 flight, 
 
 How shall I homeward toil? 
 
 "Is that the shore? 0, Asia! spurn me not, 
 Home have I come, bereft — condole my lot! 
 
 Forgive thy fallen king! 
 Thy son extends to thee his empty hand. 
 Sad, sad the hour he ever left thy land, 
 
 To hear the Greek bards sing! 
 
 " Contending furies tear my inmost soul. 
 Roll o'er this body, dismal waters, roll! 
 
 And yet I shrink — to spurn 
 And fling sweet life thus hopelessly away? 
 Drown slave! the tide thy tongue shall stay! 
 
 To Sardis now I'll turn." 
 
REVEREND CHARLES NERINCKX 
 
 A Y THEN Revolution smote the face of France 
 ^ And Peace retired with sad and tear- 
 ful glance, 
 Bold Reason by the rabble was enthroned, 
 Religion could no more be safely owned. 
 God's ministers were mocked at and reviled, 
 Sent to the guillotine or hopelessly exiled; 
 Religious rites foul treason were pronounced. 
 God-fearing men as traitors were denounced. 
 Poor France! to turn from God in such an 
 
 hour, 
 When most she needed His protecting power! 
 In such times Nerinckx lived. His Flemish 
 
 home 
 With French restrictions, hateful had become, 
 And he, but late anointed, felt his heart 
 With zeal and indignation rent apart. 
 His eyes across the trackless ocean turned 
 To free America— for souls he yearned, 
 133 
 
134 Reverend Charles Nerinckx 
 
 Here souls, he knew, were famishing and 
 
 sore 
 And he could give them bread. He sought 
 
 our shore. 
 What was Kentucky in that early time? 
 'Neath Nature's smile indeed a favored clime; 
 But few were here who worshipped Nature's 
 
 God, 
 And asked a blessing on the virgin sod. 
 Wide spread the oak boughs on the sloping 
 
 hill, 
 From springs like crystal trickled many a 
 
 rill, 
 Low willow branches drooped o'er glassy 
 
 streams, 
 And sweetest wild flowers drank the morning 
 
 beams. 
 Gay woodland choirs, untutored, sang God's 
 
 praise; 
 Forests more frequent were than fields of 
 
 maize. 
 These noble hills stretched upward to the 
 
 skies. 
 Silent and sad, tho' crowned with sunset 
 
 dyes; 
 
Reverend Charles Nerinc\x 135 
 
 For ah! beneath the chestnut's leafy shade 
 The Indian wigwam frequently was made, 
 And forth the warrior stole as evening fell, 
 To slay the paleface in the verdant dell. 
 The poisoned shaft and tomahawk were 
 
 sent 
 To those who sought their homes in sweet 
 
 content. 
 And men who looked to pass a peaceful 
 
 night, 
 Awoke ere morn in terror and affright. 
 Men, from afar, such gloomy prospects found. 
 They called this spot the ** dark and bloody 
 
 ground." 
 But Nerinckx came, with prayerful love and 
 
 hope, 
 To cheer and bless. Scarce other tongue he 
 
 spoke 
 As yet, but those of Fatherland and Church. 
 So eager he, for straying souls to search, 
 He could not linger, and God blessed each 
 
 word; 
 Men understood, and felt their bosom stirred. 
 Were not sweet angel faces hovering near, 
 When that lone horseman slowly did appear 
 
136 Reverend Charles Nerinckx 
 
 Weary and travel-stained? Yea, Heaven was 
 
 glad; 
 No longer should these hills be dark or sad. 
 By yon small dwelling, with a heaving breast 
 Badin spoke welcome to his holy guest; 
 And as they prayed united heart and hand 
 A blessing fell upon the darksome land. 
 Years onward sped, of unexampled toil, 
 Hearts harder seeming than the rocky soil, 
 But still this giant labored, waited, prayed. 
 For God he worked — he would not be dis- 
 mayed. 
 And soon the struggling pioneer looked up 
 
 and smiled 
 To hear sweet church bells echoing thro' the 
 
 wild. 
 Men's hearts were touched; remembering 
 
 home and youth, 
 With eager steps they thronged to hear God's 
 
 truth. 
 The missionary traveled far and wide. 
 To seek his flock by stream — on mountain 
 
 side; 
 Of all the good accomplished, no man knows, 
 His deeds were those the angels record shows. 
 
Reverend Charles Nerinc^x 137 
 
 He made no laws; 'twas not for that he 
 
 came, 
 Nor founded cities burdened with his name; 
 But temples rose, while sound of hymn and 
 
 prayer 
 Was wafted on the misty, incensed air. 
 While Europe heard Napoleon's blast of war, 
 While Nelson laurels won at Trafalgar, 
 When Austerlitz made France forget her loss, 
 On Western hills brave Nerinckx reared the 
 
 cross.* 
 He worked for Heaven, so Heaven is his re- 
 ward, 
 Yet left on earth, one trophy to his Lord, 
 %OXCttOf is his monument; but see! 
 'Tis living — spreading like the mustard tree. 
 Yonder sweet blossoms nod above his breast. 
 Fitly upon this spot his relics rest. 
 Near old St. Stephen's — first Kentucky home, 
 Now, as Loretto, well and widely known. 
 Fair to his eyes — e'en eyes in Heaven that 
 
 dwell. 
 Must be the changing scene, as ringing bell, 
 
 *i8os 
 
138 Reverend Charles Nerincl^x 
 
 From labor to some sacred duty calls 
 The gentle inmates of these humble wails; 
 To youthful eyes doth science here unfold 
 Her many vistas; youthful hearts are told 
 The higher aims of life; taught quick to turn 
 From Folly's shrine, her gilded prize to spurn. 
 Forth to the world Loretto's daughters go 
 To fight, with feeble arms, the unseen foe; 
 And their young charges — each year swells 
 
 the throng, — 
 Go forth, likewise, the good work to prolong. 
 When ev'ning's length'ning shadows vail the 
 
 day. 
 And Pleasure to the world chants syren lay, 
 Loretto's hymn floats upward clear and sweet 
 From pure hearts gathered round the Saviour's 
 
 feet, 
 *' Shield thou, from harm, Mother bright, 
 Thy children shield, till dawning light." 
 Nerinckx is seated now 'mid victor throngs, 
 Unhurt by earthly miseries and wrongs, 
 His apostolic heart with love still burns 
 For us his people e'en in bliss he yearns. 
 Kentucky, thou art happy to have been his 
 
 choice, 
 
Reverend Charles Nerinckx 139 
 
 Blest wilderness, where cried the prophet's 
 
 voice, 
 "Make straight his paths, be crooked ways 
 
 made plain; " 
 Kentucky, cried that prophet's voice in vain ? 
 
LORETTO 
 
 1812-I912 
 
 CENTENARY ODE 
 
 A BOVE the same arched firmament, so blue, 
 ^^ Two distant shores the rolling sea em- 
 braces ; 
 The same north star, in guidance always true, 
 Whatever craft the watery highways traces. 
 A century hath spanned that billowed deep, 
 
 A century its chain of years hath lengthened. 
 One hundred times hath earth known bloom 
 and sleep. 
 One hundred links our claims on Heaven 
 have strengthened. 
 
 A heart heroic, saintly in its mold, 
 A stranger, in an unknown way, nought 
 fearing, 
 Sought the stray sheep of his dear Master's 
 
 fold, 
 
 140 
 
Loretto 141 
 
 In forest depth — 'mid pioneer's rough clear- 
 ing. 
 From sacred duty sworn, at home, debarred, 
 Constrained by laws, his priestly soul 
 rejected, 
 He left that land, whose future was ill-starred 
 For one, where Heaven-sent tidings were 
 expected. 
 
 More than one-hundred fruitful years ago, 
 
 Brave Nerinckx crossed that sea, in tearful 
 yearning, 
 Our language even yet he did not know. 
 
 But zeal impelled with its resistless burning. 
 Hard was his lot in missionary field. 
 
 Lonely his life of unrequited labor. 
 But faith assured him of a future yield, 
 
 When he, by Calvary, had won his Thabor. 
 
 Two single handed laborers soon found, 
 Beyond their reach this vineyard of their 
 choosing; 
 Tho' ripened harvests covered the vast ground, 
 Much of its rich fruit was their weakness 
 losing. 
 
142 Lorelto 
 
 Oh! if the growing lambs could be prepared 
 For worthy life-work and eternal blessing, 
 
 If Christian teachers but their labors shared, 
 A hope would gleam amid this dearth dis- 
 tressing. 
 
 Three young hearts waited for God's holy will, 
 
 Waited and hoped and prayed, without 
 dejection. 
 They heard the spirit's voice, so small, so still, 
 
 Already virtuous, they sought perfection. 
 As glimmer tremulous of light afar. 
 
 Of mighty worlds may be the intimation. 
 So shone this hope, a small but potent star, 
 
 The harbinger of Heaven's indication. 
 
 Earth threw no glamour o'er the thorny way. 
 They saw but trials where their feet were 
 treading; 
 They knew death's shadow would enshroud 
 their day, 
 Before the sun's rays prosperous could be 
 shedding. 
 They were content; they sought not soft 
 repose, 
 
Loretto 143 
 
 Nor asked of God e'en purest consolation; 
 Theirs was the lofty aim the spirit knows, 
 When love aspires to total consecration. 
 
 Like Bethlehem, their home was poor and 
 bare, 
 Rough forest logs their only sheltered 
 dwelling. 
 Yet was this blest abode the house of prayer, 
 Its atmosphere all worldly thoughts expel- 
 ling. 
 Their garments homespun, work of unskilled 
 hands, 
 Devoid of comfort, elegance or beauty. 
 Their fortunes but a stretch of untilled land. 
 Their recreation but hard round of duty. 
 
 But nothing daunted, these three maidens 
 sighed 
 To see their choice heroic sealed by Heaven, 
 And with each other charitably vied 
 
 To free their souls from earthly dross and 
 leaven. 
 And Heaven's ear bent low; light banished 
 gloom, 
 
144 Lorelto 
 
 A radiance filled their inmost souls with 
 gladness, 
 Never could world its cast-off claim resume, 
 Never again their hearts feel hopeless sad- 
 ness. 
 
 The early springtide saw three veiled heads 
 bow 
 Low 'neath religious yoke, like blossoms 
 tender, 
 June roses decked the shrine and wreathed 
 the brow, 
 When two more made a joyful heart-sur- 
 render. 
 Warm August sun-rays o'er the altar gleamed 
 When she, the sixth, in willing self-oblation 
 Secured the privilege of which she dreamed, 
 And placed her heart beyond earth's dese- 
 cration/ 
 
 This was Loretto's birth. No saint's first 
 choice, 
 Could poorer be; on Providence dependent. 
 
 In what God loved; they too might well re- 
 joice 
 
Loretto 145 
 
 For he was poor, tho' of earth's King de- 
 scendant. 
 Not always rapid but with steps full sure, 
 Loretto's march advanced toward western 
 ocean, 
 God led the way, with guiding hand secure, 
 The Sisters followed with their lives' de- 
 votion. 
 
 The forests lessened, hardy pioneers 
 
 Blazed roads direct to settlements intended, 
 And as the highways grew defined and clear, 
 
 The growing Sisterhood its work extended. 
 And thus on mountain-side and grassy plain, 
 
 Loretto's standard was in meekness planted, 
 Though crude for years the soil, tho' small 
 the gain. 
 
 One soul sufficed — 'twas souls alone they 
 wanted. 
 
 But God is faithful, and the hundred-fold 
 Promised to those who home and friends 
 
 forsaking, 
 Seek heavenly treasures, neither bought nor 
 
 sold. 
 
146 Loretlo 
 
 Permits them e'en of worldly goods par- 
 taking 
 To do His work: To spread His blessed name 
 Where once reigned ignorance and super- 
 stition, 
 To set cold hearts with love divine aflame, 
 To win men's souls, while bettering their 
 condition. 
 
 Now lapsing years to century have grown. 
 Both Founder and first members calmly 
 resting 
 In Heaven, may know how well the seed was 
 sown, 
 How their successors are life's rude storm 
 breasting. 
 Though stately walls the cabin home replace. 
 And far and near Loretto's branches bending, 
 The Via Crucis oft the Sisters trace. 
 
 Still at the Cross, with Mary, each attend- 
 ing. 
 
 They do not ask to lead unsaintly lives, 
 Nor choose but flowers, while the thorns 
 are waiting. 
 
Loretto 147 
 
 Like bees, content in rude or crystal hives, 
 Their golden honey store no whit abating. 
 
 Apart from duties which the world may view 
 Their daily lives are stamped with Mary's 
 Dolor, 
 
 A high vocation must each soul pursue. 
 
 Religious first, then teacher, friend, consoler. 
 
 tiny seed! labor's fruitful years! 
 
 chain, a century hath left unbroken! 
 Fulfilment of good Nerinckx* prayers and 
 tears. 
 Work blest throughout with many a heav- 
 enly token. 
 The future may be trusted, as the past. 
 
 While Providence your little bark is steering. 
 May power for good thro' earth's endurance 
 last, 
 And souls, Loretto's jewels, Heaven be 
 Hearing! 
 
LEGEND OF ANTIOCH" 
 
 A Tale of the East 
 
" LEGEND OF ANTIOCH " 
 
 A Tale of the East 
 
 I 
 
 A LEGEND now from Antioch! A tale, 
 ■^^ So simple, for your pleasure, simply 
 
 told. 
 In ages past upon the sloping side 
 
 Of cedar-shadowed Lebanon, there burst 
 A tiny spring, from which clear, slender rills. 
 
 Like silv'ry arrows, shoot along rock walls. 
 And joining, then, they bound away and 
 spread. 
 As joyous waters northward gently flow, 
 In freedom seeking flowery, Syrian plains. 
 Here, finding one of Nature's loveliest 
 shrines. 
 The graceful stream curves westward toward 
 the sea. 
 In days long, long ago, they called this 
 stream 
 Orontes, and Seleucus, mighty heir 
 151 
 
152 *' Legend of Antioch ** 
 
 Of Alexander's sword-bought world, sur- 
 veyed 
 This favored spot, upon the river's left, 
 And forthwith had foundations laid to 
 build 
 A lordly city. Antioch arose, 
 
 In wealth and splendor, with a seaport 
 town. 
 Distant a score of miles, Seleucia — 
 
 A Macedonian name. Aspiring Greeks 
 Here sought abodes, beside proud titled lords 
 
 From Rome, and Asiatics, keen in trade; 
 Here prospered to magnificence, until 
 The busy, rising capital was styled, 
 " Crown of the East " 
 
 Almost three hundred years 
 This " Crown ' had bloomed. Jove had there 
 his Temple, 
 Gem-decked and golden, but the blindfold 
 god. 
 Old Plutus, was of all, the deity 
 They worshipped best. Rich was the east- 
 ern crown. 
 Outside the towered city in her prime, 
 By margin of the silver stream, was built 
 
** Legend of Aniioch ** 153 
 
 A stately dwelling, that with spacious porch 
 
 Faced eastward, and within whose walls 
 were found 
 Great pomp and luxury, displayed with care, 
 
 In full-draped tapestry and rich divan; 
 In carpeting, bright-hued, and softly thick, 
 
 No echo yielding to the measured tread. 
 Beyond, the lovely Syrian plain lay stretched, 
 
 With vine-clad Mt. Amanus to the south, 
 A verdant promise from its flowered base 
 
 Of generous vintage, for this year, at least. 
 Fruit trees, in blossom, graced the river vale, 
 
 And many a roseate vista guided straight 
 From wall to water, by the merchant's home. 
 
 •Nature was mantled there with od'rous 
 bloom, 
 Betok'ning hopes of balmy spring-tide days. 
 The flowers, near by, were not in fullness yet. 
 But plentiful, so when the morning broke. 
 Or dews of evening fell, the swaying breeze. 
 Was redolent of sweets. Mustama old, 
 A merchant of Greek ancestry, and lord 
 Of this domain, had long resided here. 
 With wife and children, slaves and merchan- 
 dise. 
 
154 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 Swelling his fortune at the city's mart. 
 His habitation, decked with liberal hand, 
 For princes of a royal line, was meet. 
 A heathen and a master stern was he. 
 With little care for aught beyond his trade, 
 But in all dealings just, as far as goes 
 A pagan's virtue; wondered men thereat. 
 His gold he highest prized — his children next, 
 And last came wife and slaves. Yet Lunara 
 With gentle dignity and grace endowed. 
 Commanded more respect than others won. 
 She knew herself to be Mustama's wife. 
 His children's mother, — mistress of his slaves, 
 A household drudge, with them, and — nothing 
 
 more. 
 If e'er she chafed, or grieved at this, none knew; 
 For trace of such emotion was not seen 
 Upon the calm, dark face, on which nor time, 
 Nor tyranny had blighted youthful charms. 
 Right fair she seemed to her three little ones, 
 Who, in simplicity, loved her full well, 
 And solaced much her joyless life. A girl. 
 Now tall and lithe, and Talmon, eldest son. 
 Best loved by both his parents, made complete 
 This household strange. 
 
Legend of Antioch " 155 
 
 II 
 
 THE GLAD RETURN 
 
 Twas nigh the close of day; 
 The arrowy rays of fading sunlight shot 
 Athwart a motley group, gathered beneath 
 This vestibule of opulence. There stood 
 The portly merchant, with expectant air, 
 And at his side, a radiant vision, one 
 More like an angel, than a thing of earth; 
 Rich flowered robes fell round her slender form, 
 O'er all a silken mantle, pale, sea green, 
 Fringed and embroidered with fine silver 
 
 thread. 
 Her oval eyes were brown as scented wood. 
 The russet glory of her hair clung close 
 About a peerless brow. She wore a veil, 
 A thing of gossamer, which hid no grace. 
 But beauty much enhanced. Well was she 
 
 named 
 Zilra the Beautiful. 
 
 The children came. 
 In sportive fondness grasped the father's 
 
 hand 
 
156 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 And bade him lift them higher, thus to share 
 The gladsome vision with the foremost 
 
 there, 
 For all eyes looked one way; but not toward 
 The sunset glories of the western sky. 
 The road, southeast from Syria that came, 
 Was all they valued in that landscape dim; 
 They longed for rising dust of caravan 
 Along that much tracked route. A weary 
 
 year 
 Had passed away since first they ventured 
 
 forth, 
 Camels and slaves, and Arab steeds, a few. 
 Upon that thread-like way, with guidance 
 
 sure 
 Of Talmon brave, the merchant's eldest son. 
 To India, even, had he journeyed far, 
 In company with others of his craft. 
 Across bleak desert waste, and rugged steep, 
 Oft cut by fierce monsoon, or fording streams, 
 And braving warlike natives, shunning e'er 
 The pilfering Arab, dreading even more 
 The prowling beasts, that stole from mountain 
 
 height 
 At dusky eve, or worse, the hissing snake 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 157 
 
 In trackless desert sand. 
 
 Of younger years 
 Was Talmon than the bearded merchants 
 
 grave, 
 With whom he rode; yet carried he a heart 
 Unfearing and as true, as followed erst 
 Bold Alexander o'er a conquered world. 
 His mien was sober for his years; full proud, 
 His calm reserve to strangers often seemed. 
 Yet when he spoke, few failed to heed his 
 
 speech. 
 E'en in that motley band. Of them, the most 
 From Syria came, and so, when homeward 
 
 bound. 
 Our Talmon meant to follow to their marts. 
 Complete his purchases and cancel debts. 
 These Syrian merchants knew his father well. 
 Had traded with him, yet Mustama's son 
 Resembled not his sire. Talmon conversed 
 Of that which brought them east: more fre- 
 quent still. 
 His theme Philosophy — a favorite one, 
 Altho' it puzzled him; and when he found 
 A mind congenial to his own, he asked 
 With deep concern of the proud Jewish race, 
 
1 58 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 Its history — Jehovah — ^mighty God, 
 Its mode of worship, in most things unlike 
 The varied pagan rites. An aged man, 
 Who bore him company along the route, 
 His queries gently answered, on this point, 
 And finding him still anxious, told, at last, 
 Of the Messias and his recent death. 
 Then as they rode the mercer kindly said, 
 ** At my abode thou wilt be welcome, son," 
 And Talmon gladly answered, " I will come." 
 
 The merchants parted on the Indus banks. 
 Agreeing here to meet at their return; 
 Each man to seek his treasures went afar; 
 Huge bales of silk and costly dyes they heaped, 
 Some precious stones, with wood and spices 
 
 rare. 
 Ostrich feathers, myrrh and poppy juice, 
 A store of seed, from these bright India lands. 
 Included were, with minor things, esteemed 
 Of value, in that rude, commercial age. 
 The homely caravansary first reached, 
 Gave shelter, till the members, lagging yet, 
 Should all arrive; the caravan might then 
 Feel strong in numbers and from danger free, 
 
" Legend of Anlioch " 1 59 
 
 Move on securely to their distant homes. 
 We will thus leave them, crossing moonlit 
 
 plain, 
 Or faint 'neath Asiatic noontide sun; 
 The scorching sand, like fire beneath their 
 
 feet, 
 For we must now revert to Antioch. 
 Such expeditions were of hazard then, 
 Therefore had sped full many an anxious 
 
 thought — 
 To foreign markets all this weary year. 
 The father, divers fears had entertained. 
 Lest ill should there befall his son. The 
 
 months 
 Had circled round and brought the fragrant 
 
 spring. 
 Swift-footed couriers, to-day had come. 
 To say the caravan approached, and ere 
 The darkness fell, would be at Antioch. 
 Mustama's heart was moved as ne'er before. 
 His manly son — his merchandise, were things 
 He held most precious in his pagan heart. 
 Swart, turbaned slaves were eager watching 
 
 too. 
 Above them, in a rich apartment stood 
 
160 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 A tall, dark, handsome woman, all alone, 
 From casement drawing back the damask 
 
 folds, 
 With eagerness, that she might also gaze 
 Where other eyes were turned. She first 
 
 espied 
 The trav'lers from afar, but gave no sign. 
 Although her bosom heaved, and all her soul 
 Was thrilled with gladness strong, to see that 
 
 face 
 So like her own. ** My son! My eldest 
 
 born! " 
 She, trembling, whispered low, then moved 
 
 away. 
 Returned for one more glance, and lingering 
 
 mused — 
 " His proud eye seems so tranquil — why, a 
 
 year 
 Hath much improved that which I perfect 
 
 deemed." 
 Again she backward stepped, and sighing, 
 
 sought 
 Her tasks. Poor pagan mother! Few and 
 
 rare, 
 Her joys domestic! Christian matrons, you 
 
" Legend of Andoch " 161 
 
 To whom tall, bearded men do lowly bend, 
 With reverent hearts, thank Heaven you did 
 
 not live 
 Before the Boy of Nazareth obeyed— 
 Nor ere the Man of Galilee us gave 
 His Mother, in new dignity enthroned. 
 
 Now all behold the caravan. Glad shouts 
 Proclaim the tidings as from clouds of dust, 
 The moving figures, one by one, emerge. 
 First Talmon, riding his best Arab steed, 
 The well-armed slaves and laden camels next, 
 Together keeping till the outer wall 
 Is fairly reached. The youth, with kindling 
 
 cheek, 
 Springs lightly from his seat— the terrace 
 
 mounts. 
 And gains the vestibule with one quick bound. 
 " My father dear! " to Zilra turning then, 
 ** Why little one, a woman thou so soon? " 
 And feeling childish fingers grasp his robe. 
 With smiles he circles, playfully, the three. 
 The fond old man was happy unto tears 
 " I'm but a common trafficker," he said, 
 '* Yet truly, am I father to a prince, 
 
162 " Legend of Anlioch " 
 
 Look at his mien — could prince's loftier be? '* 
 The flush grew deep in Talmon's olive face, 
 His eyes assumed a grave, expressive look, 
 ** My mother, where is she? " he softly asked. 
 Surprised, they heard, " Wouldst thou see 
 
 Lunara? 
 She is within the hall, where slaves prepare 
 To welcome thee." " I will go seek her 
 
 there." 
 Departed he, while wondering they gazed, 
 Thinking this haughty youth was greatly 
 
 changed. 
 
 Soon to his camels did the merchant turn. 
 Still muttering: " Whence comes this rever- 
 ence 
 For woman? " but the precious cargo drove 
 Such meditation from his busy mind. 
 The girl stood, toying with large, fleckless 
 
 pearls, 
 Her brother's gift; the children's noisy glee 
 Showed plainly that he had not slighted them. 
 Within the banquet hall, the docile slaves 
 Their mistress' bidding promptly sought to do. 
 But hushed their clamor, as each ready ear 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 163 
 
 Heard the young master's tread. He quickly 
 
 passed 
 Among their prostrate numbers, scattering 
 
 coins, 
 And when the trembling mother's stately 
 
 form 
 Inclined as well, his strong arms held her fast. 
 His lips pressed lovingly her lowered brow. 
 As ne'er before since childhood's sunny day. 
 *' Sweet Mother! far away 'twas meet thy 
 
 boy 
 Should go, if but thy priceless worth to learn." 
 Was it a dream? And what its import 
 
 strange? 
 Twas Talmon's voice, and Talmon's piercing 
 
 eye, 
 No heartless trick, or subterfuge in him. 
 For he was noble, even when most proud. 
 " My Mother, 'tis for thee this soft, rich robe 
 Of Tyrian dye. Wear it, for me to-night 
 And thou shalt sit beside me at the board." 
 Her eyes looked troubled, ** But thy sire? " 
 
 she said. 
 "Refuse me aught to-day? This shall be 
 
 first 
 
164 ** Legend of Aniioch " 
 
 Of my requests.'* And she was at the feast. 
 
 Attired according to his wish; her cheeks 
 
 Aglow with new-found happiness and hope. 
 
 Mustama wondered that his wife could look 
 
 So like a queen. A hearty feast it was! 
 
 Ne'er had a blither been within those walls. 
 
 Some tie their hearts had never felt before, 
 
 This night drew them together. Viands rare, 
 
 And amber-colored wines remained untouched. 
 
 All fed on Talmon's words. The minstrel 
 strains, 
 
 They quickly hushed to catch his lightest 
 tone, 
 
 So long unheard. With grave voice he re- 
 hearsed 
 
 Of knowledge, stores, brought like those 
 hoarded wares 
 
 From o'er the plain: How people clad them- 
 selves 
 
 In strange, bright vestures, while some Tar- 
 tar clans. 
 
 Roamed with their herds, and wore their 
 hairy coats. 
 
 He pictured well sweet nature's wondrous 
 charms. 
 
** Legend of Antioch " 165 
 
 Near old Euphrates, with its storied name, 
 And Tigris, running always swift and clear, 
 The streams that bounded Eden when the 
 
 world 
 Was new. The weird, wild charms of Lotus 
 
 Land 
 His topic then, fit type of pleasure's realm. 
 Where men forget all else, and fruitless dream. 
 Of what is not. The matchless Cashmere 
 
 vale. 
 He likened to a gem, high set amid 
 The loftiest mountain-peaks our earth can 
 
 boast, 
 From whose snow-crowning issues Indus* 
 
 stream. 
 And sacred Ganges. Manners and pursuits, 
 Religion, languages, he mentioned too. 
 They lingered, still, entranced to hear his 
 
 voice — 
 It earnest grew, almost pathetic seemed, 
 As with rare eloquence, Jerusalem, 
 Symbolical and grand, he next described. 
 Fair Antioch's white rival in the South. 
 Too soon such blithe hours vanish. Mid- 
 night came, 
 
166 ** Legend of Antioch '* 
 
 And smiling guests departed one by one. 
 Mustama, proud and happy led his son 
 To speak of topics that he relished best, 
 Confiding to his ear his lofty hopes. 
 The young man sighed; yet all things promised 
 
 well. 
 All this was long ago, when kindred ties 
 But lightly bound. How is it now? Hath 
 
 time 
 Brought better things to each domestic hearth? 
 Ah! who can say each home abides in peace? 
 
 Two slaves with torches their young master 
 
 led 
 To his rich couch, and bowing low salaam 
 Solicit further orders. " Every light 
 Extinguish, and then quickly to your rest." 
 Amazed at gentleness so rare, the slaves 
 Quick, noiseless step to silver lamps, where 
 
 burn 
 Fresh perfumed oils, and with a breath soon 
 
 leave 
 The scene all darkness. 
 
" Legend of Antioch " ]67 
 
 III 
 
 A CHANGE 
 
 Talmon casts aside 
 His gorgeous mantle, and in tunic white 
 Now stands alone, where his dark mother stood 
 At sunset, waiting for his glad return. 
 He parts the drapery and o'er him flows 
 The radiant whiteness of the full-orbed moon 
 Swift sailing thro' thin ether blue. But look! 
 He kneels — he prays — toward Jerusalem 
 Outstretching arms as Daniel did of old. 
 A pagan youth in lowly attitude! 
 Such humble supplication could not be 
 To senseless idols offered. Hear his prayer! — 
 ** My Lord and Saviour Crucified! This hour 
 Is fraught with peril. I thy succor crave; 
 Foul prisons, keen-edged swords — I dread 
 
 them not, 
 But tremble I, at lurking dangers hid 
 Amid the blandishments of home. Lord, 
 How can my shoulders bear the heavy cross, 
 In secret and alone? Now darkness falls. 
 Where light has been. My soul is troubled 
 
 sore. 
 
168 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 It shrinks and sickened grows at very sight 
 Of future woes, for which I deemed myself 
 Well fortified. Have cleansing waters flowed 
 In vain? Christ! My Lord! an hour 
 
 once was, 
 When Thou wast overwhelmed, and strug" 
 
 gling, prayed 
 Because of human weakness. Doubting self, 
 Therefore, courageous shall I grow again, 
 My trust, firm placed in thee. Send help, 
 
 My Lord! " 
 Prolonged and earnest was the brave youth's 
 
 prayer. 
 From which he rose much strengthened and 
 
 refreshed. 
 His weary eyes in tranquil slumber closed. 
 While peace came, angel-like, into that house. 
 
 Serene the morning after this calm night! 
 Mustama, rising early, sought his son, 
 His partner now! — in haste did both proceed 
 To Antioch — soon reached the grand Bazaar, 
 Where lay the secret of the merchant's wealth. 
 The busy tide of traffic onward rolled, 
 With animation new. Domestic cares 
 
** Legend oj Antioch " 169 
 
 Engrossed poor Lunara; e*en Zilra strove 
 To turn the spindle, but the listless mind 
 Forgot to guide the hand; she dreamed away 
 Of bright hued fabrics and rare Eastern gems. 
 Thro' court and garden sported tiny maids, 
 Eunice and Loia, tossing some quaint toy, 
 With clamor answering the noisy shouts 
 Of little Placidus. The mother smiled, 
 Which seeing, Zilra wondered and rejoiced, 
 Believing, she knew not why, that happier days 
 Had dawned upon their clouded home at last. 
 All longed for twilight, when Mustama prompt, 
 Would come with Talmon from the busy mart. 
 Although the heart of Lunara oft feared 
 The loss of her new dignity at home. 
 But she was safe. It gratified her lord 
 To do what Talmon wished, and when men 
 
 scoffed 
 Or, mocking, turned their raillery on him 
 For honoring a woman, simply said, 
 "Peace, peace, my friends; 'tis thus the 
 
 Romans do; 
 We're Caesar's subjects now." 
 
 Months glided by. 
 Men saw a change in Talmon, nothing wrong, 
 
170 *' Legend of Antioch " 
 
 Still 'twas a change — he lacked his wonted 
 
 zeal, 
 In seeking pleasure, and attended not 
 The service of the gods; his life, besides, 
 Was blameless, and him many fathers praised 
 Unto their sons, and bade them copy him. 
 Oft Zilra watched him, when alone he paced 
 The olive grove, communing with his thoughts. 
 Once, fawn-like glided she across the court 
 His mantle gaily caught, at which he smiled 
 And placed, caressingly, a gentle hand 
 Upon her head. Encouraged thus the girl 
 Made free to question. **Ah! a secret hast 
 
 thou, 
 Thy sister can not share? Now, prove thy 
 
 love 
 And tell me of what merchant's daughter 
 
 fair, 
 Thou comest here to dream? " ** Captive my 
 
 heart 
 Indeed, but to no bright-eyed Syrian maid. 
 My secret, dear one, sometime thou shalt 
 
 hear. 
 Thy own heart freely show; now what of 
 
 that? " 
 
"Legend of Antioch*' 171 
 
 "Seest thou yon pigeon cleaving the thin 
 
 air? 
 So is my heart as free." She flushed and 
 
 laughed; 
 Her fingers nestled in his clasping hand, 
 His eyes bent fondly on that peerless face; 
 A fair, frail thing she seemed to breast the 
 
 storms 
 Of pagan life. In anxious love he spoke;— 
 "Thy heart, dear child, still free? Tis 
 
 well, 'tis well. 
 Thou art too young; thy future trust to 
 
 me. 
 "Yea, what know I, beyond this garden 
 
 wall? " 
 She chatted heedlessly, pleased at this theme, 
 Till on his placid countenance appeared 
 A shade, by her frivolity evoked. 
 She faltered, but he did not chide, or sneer, 
 For reading in the clear, uplifted eyes 
 A proof of her unblemished innocence, 
 He longed to win this yet scarce^tarnished 
 
 soul 
 First conquest unto Christ. She little knew, 
 Still less cared she, for aspirations high: 
 
172 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 Complacently she worshipped her fair self, 
 Unmindful of the gods. 
 
 Thou must still pray; 
 This soil, good Talmon, is not yet prepared; 
 For Christian virtues true, can flourish not, 
 With vanity, deep-rooted, side by side. 
 Some scenes sink deep in memory and live 
 To meet a sequel at some future day; 
 Such was this scene beneath the olive tree. 
 
 Mustama, too, began to notice soon 
 The frequent, deep abstraction of his son; 
 At his indifference, was much surprised, 
 When e'en the noblest sought his company; 
 Aloof he kept himself from festive scenes; 
 Nor, since that journey, had his foot once 
 
 crossed 
 The ornate threshold of the golden fane. 
 He, at the counter, calculated well, 
 And thriving was the trade, since Talmon's 
 
 hand 
 At helm had been. In every thoughtful word, 
 In every action, blended was respect 
 With deference true, which both ennobled 
 
 him 
 
** Legend of Aniioch '* 1 73 
 
 Who proffered, and him likewise, who received. 
 Men greatly praised the youth; like music 
 
 sweet 
 Were these laudations to the father's ear. 
 But Talmon heeded not their honeyed speech, 
 Now those, who thus approved him, little 
 
 dreamed 
 Of painful fasts and weary vigils long, 
 When thro' night's solitary hours of rest 
 That stalwart form, in pleading, prostrate 
 
 lay, 
 Asking for strength and light to walk secure 
 Along a slippery way; repeating oft, 
 ** Beloved at home, much praised abroad, I 
 
 tread 
 The brink of some dark, yawning precipice. 
 Thou wert reviled and persecuted here. 
 For safety, should I not resemble Thee? " 
 Then followed many a petition strong, 
 For clouded souls of all he cherished best, 
 Craving some sign the truth when to reveal 
 In full, to those whom his example meek 
 Was gently leading to the light divine. 
 *' Would that I had a thousand lives to give, 
 In anguish dire would I them gladly yield 
 
174 '* Legend of Antioch " 
 
 To win one priceless soul for Paradise. 
 If thou dost love me, Lord, let me not close 
 Mine eyes in death, till suffering sharp and 
 
 keen 
 Hath purged my heart of sin and earthly 
 
 dross! 
 Thine own Apostles hasten to our gates. 
 Commissioned to proclaim the holy word." 
 
 Twice had the changing seasons rolled around 
 Presenting nature's panoramic plan 
 To bless the nations, still our neophyte 
 Breathed o'er the self-same prayer and strug- 
 gled hard 
 'Gainst foes invisible. But one resource 
 Had he — to watch and pray. The spirit's 
 
 life 
 Requires, e'en yet, a close, unceasing war; 
 But now the Christian's arms are multiplied; 
 The sculptured church and gem-decked shrine 
 
 are ours. 
 And countless tapers tell earth's mercy seat, 
 While softly chiming bells fling sweetest 
 
 sounds 
 To Christian ears, a welcome, blessed call 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 175 
 
 Unto a hallowed place, where constant dwell 
 A royal court, unseen — God's courtiers 
 With blessings laden from the inmost Heaven. 
 The ceremonial grand and oh! the chant 
 Uplift the soul to nobler, holier thoughts. 
 Or sweet, hushed silence breathes of Heav'n 
 
 itself. 
 Here seven sacramental streams flow on, 
 Refreshing needy souls; pure, living streams 
 Are they from the high fountain head of 
 
 grace. 
 Here Calvary is carved, there Tabor's light 
 Is painted. Printer's art hath safe embalmed 
 The sacred Gospels and much Christian lore. 
 All this and more, needing no human speech; 
 Canst thou conceive what daily life would be. 
 With all these swept away? Talmon had 
 
 none. 
 
 IV 
 
 NIGHT UPON THE RIVER 
 
 'Twas spring again, and floral offerings 
 Bedecked most heathen shrines; libations 
 
 streamed 
 On smoking altars, heaped for sacrifice. 
 
176 *' Legend of Antioch'' 
 
 Mustama, like the rest, invoked his gods 
 And bade our Talmon to the Temple take 
 His victims for the vernal holocaust. 
 Feigning excuse, the youth turned quick 
 
 away. 
 With plans of absence for the coming days. 
 Now preparations at the Palace hall, 
 Gave token of a great festivity. 
 Antioch*s noblest only could attend, 
 All, who by birth or franchise, claimed to be 
 Free, Roman citizens. Mustama's wealth 
 Was his nobility, and his fair child 
 A gem, so brilliant, that her greeting came 
 From every side. Thus bidden to the feast. 
 This time the father scowled and muttered low. 
 Because a prince's hospitality 
 The son refused. His anger to appease. 
 Young Talmon led his mother to the barge. 
 Beside the river bank. " Together, now," 
 Said he, ** we seek the city*s northern gate." 
 At this the merchant smoothed his low'ring 
 
 brow, 
 And little ones, no longer fearing him. 
 With shouts and joyous laughter, sought his 
 
 side. 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 177 
 
 He even smiled, when from her litter stepped 
 
 His lovely Zilra, clad in azure robes. 
 
 The polished mirror had reflected long 
 
 Her perfect form, adjusting carefully 
 
 A mantle, fringed with pearls; large flashing 
 
 gems 
 Adorned her girdle, not less beautiful 
 Than those above her brow. Her sandals 
 
 e'en 
 Were crusted from the mine. Well was she 
 
 named 
 " Zilra the Beautiful." 
 
 Princely the barge; 
 Old Egypt's queen such splendor might have 
 
 owned. 
 From thick, silk awnings hang small tinkling 
 
 bells, 
 Sweet chiming with the splash of oar-cleft 
 
 waves. 
 Not all unroyal seems the group within. 
 Flow on, flow on, Orontes! That frail bark 
 Now struggles 'gainst thy current; ah! how 
 
 soon 
 Those lightsome hearts must battle with a 
 
 stream 
 
178 '' Legend oj Antioch'' 
 
 More rude and swift than thine! Pale sor- 
 row's tide 
 Runs dark and very deep. Forebodings 
 
 sad, 
 As yet cloud not their sweet domestic joy; 
 Life, stretched before them, seems but like 
 
 that wave, 
 With lambent, silver moon-rays burnished 
 
 bright. 
 Upon this picture, angels, cast your eyes; 
 Must shadows fall on happiness so pure? 
 But lo! the keel grates harshly on the sand. 
 The gate is reached, and many lights stream 
 
 forth 
 From open casements in high palace walls. 
 A surging crowd bears towards the portico, 
 Where our sweet Zilra, happy, and so fair, 
 Hurries from view of anxious eyes away, 
 And in the gazing multitude is lost. 
 The merchant's daughter at the feast was 
 
 queen, 
 In guileless beauty, and untutored grace, 
 Within those stately walls, where ages gone, 
 The mould'ring Seleucidae proudly passed 
 In pageantry and mirth. So quickly Time 
 
"Legend of Antioch'' 179 
 
 Doth shift the scene. 
 
 Long, long remembered each 
 That strangely tranquil night upon the stream. 
 The lightened craft is swiftly homeward 
 
 bound : 
 As children's drowsy eyelids droop and close, 
 Beside his mother Talmon seats himself 
 To face his revelation. " From this night. 
 Between us, no more secrets. I, thee wrong. 
 Withholding mine. I am a Christian now." 
 "Ah! what is that?" the woman faltered 
 
 low. 
 Will it destroy our peace? Quick, say, my 
 
 boy." 
 "Thy tears unnerve me, mother, come, be 
 
 brave. 
 Our sovereign Lord is called the ' Prince of 
 
 Peace.* 
 Thou'rt Hebrew born and must have heard 
 
 in youth 
 Of an expected Saviour, by the Jews 
 Messias called." " I have some memory 
 Of such a thing, but what is that to thee? 
 Talmon, beware! Thy father—." " Tell him 
 
 not, 
 
180 " Legend of Aniioch '* 
 
 At least, not yet; for to thine ear alone, 
 I would the secret first impart." 
 
 She watched 
 The rapt expression of that noble face 
 With wondering awe, as from his fervid lips 
 The story came; for him, indeed, the rose 
 In desert bloomed. Amid the ruddy piles 
 Of shifting sand, the aged merchant spoke 
 Of Christ to him, and when the great white 
 
 walls 
 Of David's city sheltered these strange friends, 
 From Apostolic lips instruction came. 
 Rich, fruitful soil then found the heav'nly 
 
 seed 
 In Talmon*s upright heart; and, in due time, 
 He bent his once proud head and meekly 
 
 craved 
 The sacred and regenerating stream. 
 Like one released from bonds, the neophyte 
 Trod with new joy his native vale — redeemed. 
 Naught could disturb his soul's serenity, 
 Save some solicitude for those he loved; 
 But this pang, too, hope soothed, yet it is 
 
 hard 
 To check the longings of a zealous soul. 
 
"Legend of Antioch'' 181 
 
 To-night his patience failed him; silence grew 
 Impossible, and thus he eager poured, 
 Into his mother's ear, the full account 
 Of that long journey, and its sacred close. 
 Swift the hours sped for mother and for son; 
 And seeking rest, they sleeplessly recalled 
 The burning words that recently had waked 
 Emotions, so conflicting, in each heart. 
 At palace, too, the hours had flying feet, 
 Where Zilra danced, with childlike happiness, 
 And gloried in the homage of the throng. 
 The clanging instruments betoken now 
 That soon that hollow mirth will all be o'er; 
 Step lightly, lightly Zilra! smile again 
 On that admiring crowd; turn brightest eyes 
 For one more artless, beaming glance — their 
 
 last. 
 Thy father beckons, and thou must away; 
 So, high above, another Father calls — 
 Sweet maiden! wilt thou hearken to this 
 
 voice? 
 
182 " Legend of Aniioch " 
 
 CLOUDS. SILVER LINED 
 
 Why do the maiden's footsteps linger slow? 
 Why is her song unheard? She rarely speaks — 
 Hath that bewildering night of pleasures new 
 Sickened the giddy brain? " Weary she is," 
 Thought Lunara: still Zilra languished on. 
 *' What ails thee, child? " the anxious mother 
 
 asks — 
 •' Her head is dazed — so very weak her limbs," 
 The girl replies, for nothing more she knows. 
 Another day, and childishly weighs now 
 Upon the mother's shoulder that young head. 
 Fever, not health, has flushed those burning 
 
 cheeks; 
 111 omened is the brightness of those eyes. 
 " Haste, Cusack, hither send! " pleads Lunara; 
 '* Well-skilled is he in medicines and herbs." 
 Came Cusack with the twilight; leopard-like 
 His tread; with cunning eye he noted well 
 The pillared halls and tapestried salons 
 His mental calculations making well. 
 As to the profit of the case in hand, 
 F'or he was covetous of all this wealth, 
 
'" Legend oi Antioch'' 183 
 
 And hated him who called the house his own. 
 ** Fever, saidst thou? Ah! 'tis a tedious 
 
 thing. 
 By great excitement wakened? Much the 
 
 worse. 
 These herbs, well steeped and given cool each 
 
 hour. 
 Will soothe apace, and keenest pain allay. 
 The patient, where? " 
 
 Can this sweet Zilra be? 
 The merry dancer at the princely feast. 
 The gem of Antioch, called frequently 
 The daughter of the gods? All powerless 
 Youth, health and beauty, when disease at- 
 tacks. 
 Pain racks her limbs as 'twould a beggar's 
 
 form; 
 The purple and fine linen of her couch 
 Bring no relief. Bresca, a faithful slave. 
 Vies with the mother in her efforts vain 
 To ease the blue-veined temples, throbbing 
 
 high. 
 Cusack reflects — declares the pulse too quick, 
 The blood too highly heated; 'twill take 
 
 time 
 
184 *' Legend of Antioch'* 
 
 To check this fever; try the herbs at once. 
 Turns suddenly the girl and wildly flings 
 Her clustering locks, with fingers pressing 
 
 tight 
 'Neath shapely ears — the man's eyes watch- 
 ing close. 
 He started, muttered some vague, hurried 
 
 words 
 And vanished, as if something frightened him. 
 What had he seen? Why did he thus depart? 
 The mother looked at what struck Cusack's 
 
 eyes, 
 Some small, dark circles, with red, angry verge 
 Upon the maiden's neck! What can they 
 
 mean? 
 A dreadful fear shook that poor woman's 
 
 frame. 
 With stern control she pressed back scalding 
 
 tears, 
 To Bresca saying, ** Let us steep the herbs." 
 
 Over the splendid city, shadows fell, 
 
 Dark, lowering shadows, black with night and 
 
 storm, 
 Torches oft gleamed and flickered in the street. 
 
** Legend of Antioch " 185 
 
 Great windows were ablaze with rich goods 
 
 hung, 
 But purchasers, unmindful, hurried by. 
 Within the portal of his grand bazaar, 
 Mustama sauntered, musing tranquilly, 
 When, like a serpent's hiss, he heard the words, 
 ** Proud man, the leprosy is in thy house." 
 Near him stood Cusack with a fiendish smile. 
 "Ha! fool, beware,'* Mustama cried, ** Weigh 
 
 well 
 Thy words. Beware ! ' ' — * * Until to-morrow eve 
 I will thee spare; straight send the girl away, 
 Or of this I must information give." 
 He vanished, leaving a sharp adder's tooth 
 Deep in the father's heart. A woful thing. 
 To have an enemy! Cusack had borne 
 A grudge against Mustama years before. 
 The clouded evening into stormy night 
 Was deepening fast, as old Mustama hied 
 Towards his home. No word, no sign be- 
 trayed 
 His purpose, ^till at Zilra's door he spoke 
 In harshest tones; ** Quick, quick, girl, get 
 
 thee hence. 
 Thou art accursed! Pollute not this abode 
 
186 " Legend of Aniioch " 
 
 With thy foul presence more." — ** But, Father 
 
 dear — " 
 ** Call me not so. Rise, slave, and take her 
 
 hence." 
 Thus spoke the pagan Greek and they obeyed. 
 
 A moment more and through the spacious hall 
 Did Lunara glide eagerly, in love 
 Bearing a vase of sweet spiced beverage 
 To slake her darling's thirst, when hark! a 
 
 shriek, 
 Wild, long and piercing, strikes upon her ear. 
 She sees a fluttering garment in the storm. 
 And as the portals close, there sounds a crash, 
 As, like an angry lioness, she springs 
 To check the bolt. A stronger hand is there. 
 ** Monster," she cries, ** what hath thy mad- 
 ness done? " 
 " Back, woman; know thy place," came in 
 
 fierce tones. 
 And she, remembering her slavish days. 
 Fled, tottering to her babes. Passive she lay 
 Unconscious by the sleeping innocents. 
 Until the steady patter of the rain 
 Broke on her ear and soothed to fitful sleep. 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 187 
 
 She dreamed the truth, and woke to realize 
 The anguish of her dream. Disturbed — 
 
 amazed — 
 She tried to cheat herself with hopeful search, 
 Some dreadful nightmare this must surely 
 
 be! 
 A lurid flash revealed an empty couch. 
 " Gone, gone, poor wounded dove! Zilra, my 
 
 child! 
 My Beautiful! Where art thou gone, alone? 
 And in this storm! Ah! With thee let me 
 
 go! 
 She tore her hair, and, wailing, cursed her 
 
 fate, 
 Blaming and hating in her agony. 
 It was a bitter ordeal, for a soul, 
 Still thoughtless of its origin divine. 
 Felt Lunara her need and calmer, moaned 
 ** Oh! would that I knew more of Talmon's 
 
 God! " 
 There must be supplication in the tears. 
 That anxious misery will sometimes wring 
 From every mother's heart. Thus Jesus casts 
 A tender eye upon maternal grief, 
 Remembering how often Mary wept. 
 
188 *' Legend of Antioch'' 
 
 VI 
 
 OLD MEMORIES 
 
 When we are wretched and alone, it seems 
 Some instinct carries to the past our thoughts: 
 Old joys reveal themselves, with double 
 
 charms. 
 Dulling the keenness of our present woe. 
 Our sad souls solace find in what has been. 
 Thus doth old age, in musings, walk again 
 The flowery paths of youth; hearts, long 
 
 bereft. 
 In memory, taste domestic bliss once more; 
 So, on this night, to Lunara's sad mind, 
 Arose the picture of that Persian home 
 Where passed her sunless youth; she plainly 
 
 saw 
 Her Jewish mother's handsome face, o'ercast, 
 Just as she saw it, at their parting hour. 
 This mother, too, was from her race estranged, 
 Because in wedlock with a pagan bound. 
 Sadoc, her father, she had longer known, 
 Although she loved him less; much treatment 
 
 ill 
 Had been her childhood's portion at his hand. 
 
'* Legend of Aniioch'' 189 
 
 After the Jewish wife was cast away. 
 The memory of Lunara was clear; 
 With calmness wonderful she all reviewed — 
 The lofty fanes, and sacrificial mounts, 
 Whereon the superstitious people prayed. 
 The daily customs of that barbarous land, 
 She scanned and conned, as reading from a 
 
 book, 
 The printed history of her native clime. 
 A harrowing memory now racked her brain — 
 'Twas of a day when slaves, in terror, cried, 
 " Master, the Jewess hath the leprosy." 
 And then she saw her mother driven forth, 
 As her dear child had been. Why was she 
 
 spared — 
 Spared for this double curse? She could not 
 
 _ rest. 
 " Twice seven suns since Talmon started 
 
 South, 
 And he has not returned. If Ac were here — 
 Yet who would dare to face Mustama's rage? 
 Still things go well, when Talmon is at home." 
 She wandered listlessly the chambers through. 
 ** Talmon has come at last! His step, I hear." 
 And with light tread she ventured to his door. 
 
190 ''Legend of Antioch'' 
 
 ** Welcome, as ne'er before, my son! Hast 
 
 heard — " 
 Her lips grew mute — for in the gloom slow 
 
 walked 
 Mustama, her dread lord, who, turning short, 
 Revealed a face, pale with remorse and shame. 
 Both hearts were full; all speech seemed 
 
 mockery ; 
 His hand outstretched, but not to deal a blow; 
 He drew the woman toward that casement 
 
 wide, 
 Where she had watched — where Talmon often 
 
 prayed, 
 And in dumb agony both looked abroad. 
 All there was darkened by the unspent storm; 
 A strange misgiving tortured both their hearts; 
 Both thought of Talmon — for his presence 
 
 yearned. 
 And wondered how he Zilra's curse would 
 
 view — 
 " After the storm, we will expect our son." 
 Mustama's heart was sore, and tender grew 
 Toward the sad, wailing mother at his side. 
 For she was innocent; but well he knew 
 That he had cast away his child to die. 
 
" Legend of Antioch" 191 
 
 Twas thus the law ordained, harsh, pagan 
 
 law! 
 But did the rule demand such brutal haste? 
 No Talmon yet. The wife with anguish 
 
 thought 
 Of this new grief, and dreaded its result: 
 Seeing her lord in such a gentle mood, 
 She said, ** I brought this blight into thy 
 
 house; 
 Drive me forth too, to perish with my child. 
 Whom Heaven through me hath cursed." 
 
 *' Nay, leave me not. 
 But tell me why thou callest this curse thine 
 
 own.-* 
 ** My mother was of Jewish origin. 
 But, by her people, scorned and cast aside. 
 For marrying young Sadoc, Persian born. 
 If her first years were bright, soon shadows 
 
 came. 
 For she was not alone in Sadoc's heart; 
 A younger Persian bride usurped her place. 
 Faintly I keep in memory how we dwelt 
 In that strange household, though not of its 
 
 band; 
 Still with each other we were well content, 
 
192 " Legend of Antioch '* 
 
 Till once my mother tossed with fever high 
 And came the startling scream, * 'Tis leprosy! ' 
 'Twas even so. They tore me from her arms 
 And never since that sad hour have we met. 
 A saddened child, they placed me 'mong the 
 
 slaves. 
 In my own father's house. With them I 
 
 toiled, 
 Submissive, silent, mindful of my birth, 
 And for my chance of freedom waiting long. 
 Fared Sadoc well; men from a distance came, 
 Who trafficked with him, broke bread at his 
 
 board. 
 And quaffed full crystal cups of his good 
 
 wines : 
 Then near his right hand, I, a server, stood " 
 " 'Twas there I saw thee first," Mustama said. 
 ** None so expert as I to meet their wants, 
 The master's eldest daughter, yet the slave. 
 One summer eve, it chanced thou wert his 
 
 guest. 
 And when I poured for thee the sparkling 
 
 wine, 
 I caught the words, * Are Persian slaves like 
 
 this? ' " 
 
*' Legend of Antioch'' 193 
 
 ** Yea — I recall thy proud defiant speech, 
 * No slave am I, but daughter to this man.' 
 Sadoc did not deny, but offered me 
 This Hebrew girl to swell my merchandise. 
 This was not to my liking, but thine eyes 
 Were raised to mine with mute, imploring 
 
 glance, 
 And so I thought, at least, to make thee free, 
 I'd claim thee as my bride. On my return, 
 I found indeed, that I was suited well." 
 " From Persia to my mother's native land. 
 Thou broughtest me. Strange destiny was 
 
 mine. 
 To come unto thy house as slave and bride, 
 To be the mother of thy children five. 
 And now, alas! to bring this fatal blight." 
 
 Together yet they stood, as man and wife 
 On equal footing, sharing mutual grief. 
 She sudden raised her tear-dimmed eyes aloft. 
 The storm was o'er, the clouds fast scattering. 
 And thro' a rift sailed forth the great, white 
 
 moon 
 Enthroned on fleecy waves. Her glory full 
 Tinged with mild radiance the lonely room. 
 
194 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 ** Is it a sign of hope? but oh! what hope 
 Remains for us? " Dragged heavily the hours, 
 As those bereft ones lingered on the spot 
 To them so sacred now for Talmon's sake. 
 With crimson tips the distant hills grew 
 
 bright 
 As early song birds told of waking day; 
 So many days, like this, the saddest, broke, 
 But Talmon came no more. 
 
 And where was he? 
 With no companion but old Bresca's son, 
 The youth was gaily homeward hurrying 
 Upon that fatal eve; but, by the storm 
 O'ertaken, refuge he resolved to seek 
 Within the city at the grand bazaar. 
 His father might be there, and, later on. 
 In company they homeward could return. 
 The bridge was reached, tho' barely visible, 
 And Talmon marked the contrast; he had 
 
 gazed 
 From those stone arches on the festive 
 
 scene. 
 Scarcely a fortnight since. He hears a sound. 
 Orontes, who thy tide, cloud-darkened, cleaves? 
 A piteous moan falls weak upon his ear — 
 
•' Legend of Antioch " 195 
 
 That voice! His blood seems curdling in his 
 
 veins, 
 " What, Zilra? " questions he in husky tones, 
 " What woman is abroad on such a night? " 
 " Welcome, good master," weary Bresca cries. 
 " Pray hither bring thy torch." The red 
 
 light's flare 
 Shov/s Talmon, lying all in tears and pain, 
 His blossom sweet, so torn and sadly crushed. 
 What ill betides? The girl uplifts her eyes 
 In pleading agony. " Wilt thou, too, flee? " 
 ** No, not from thee, but tell me what this 
 
 means? " 
 Tis quickly told. Pale, stunned — but daunt- 
 less yet, 
 The brother stands in fervent prayer absorbed. 
 A moment, and he gives a clear command. 
 Which they in haste obey, and all move on. 
 Think what he will, the dreadful fact remains, 
 Zilra a leper is — outlawed — accurst. 
 Their common sire — his sternness Talmon 
 
 knows — 
 Hath driven her from the paternal roof. 
 That banished she shall be, the law ordains. 
 From human habitation far, to wait, 
 
196 *' Legend of Antioch " 
 
 In solitude for death, the sole release. 
 Now contact with a leper breeds the curse. 
 A lowly Christian Talmon had become, 
 He knew his Master, lepers never scorned, 
 Nor scorn would he; his Master was his guide. 
 He had his dreams, as all men have in youth, 
 But his were great, unselfish and so brave; 
 He planned a future, with much work for God, 
 Planting at home the tiny mustard seed. 
 Hoping to rest beneath its goodly boughs. 
 Some day, with all his dear ones Christians 
 
 too. 
 By this, fame, wealth and honor, nothing 
 
 seemed, 
 These possibly might come, and, wisely used. 
 Promote the cause to which he pledged his 
 
 life. 
 Must all his noble dreams now disappear? 
 This lofty fabric, must his hand destroy? 
 God, God alone, can strength and counsel 
 
 give; 
 And from his soul arises a strong prayer: 
 He wins grace for heroic sacrifice. 
 ** Farewell; forever, earthly hopes, farewell! 
 With Zilra, in the desert. I'll abide." 
 
*' Legend oj Antioch " 197 
 
 VII 
 
 PRAYERS ANSWERED 
 
 Thus Talmon came not, tho' they waited long. 
 Clear, summer morning lighted up the hills. 
 And perfumed eve bedewed with glittering 
 
 drops 
 The growth luxuriant within the court, 
 Where flowers bloomed, uncared for and un- 
 sought. 
 Poor parents! for full many a dreary year 
 Their light was out — their lives a hopeless 
 
 blank ; 
 The mother's heart pined for the jest and 
 
 song; 
 No dancing step brought Zilra to her side — 
 Where was she now? secure from harm, or 
 
 dead? 
 Would any shield the leper, drenched and poor? 
 The absence of her son, tho' dear he was, 
 Gave hope that he was seeking, or had found 
 His sister. And what then? She was not 
 
 sure. 
 Suspense like this is dreadful weight to bear 
 And plays sad havoc with our daily peace. 
 
198 ''Legend of Aniioch'' 
 
 The proud Mustama, too, was almost crushed; 
 
 Ne'er had he counted on this second loss; 
 
 His life became a heavy, worthless load; 
 
 His harsh act followed him like phantom 
 dread, 
 
 And after many saddened weeks passed by, 
 
 When many moons waxed full and paled from 
 sight, 
 
 He realized his double wrong and loss. 
 
 Men told him Talmon came to Antioch, 
 
 On such a day, and that was all they knew. 
 
 Nowhere was Bresca, nor her husband found, 
 
 And Hudiken, their loyal son, now free, 
 
 Took oath he had not seen them since that 
 night. 
 
 At last men ceased to wonder and to talk. 
 
 Some pitied the Greek family, but thought 
 
 Twas right a leper should go forth to die. 
 
 Yet none could say why Talmon had re- 
 nounced 
 
 His lordly heritage and happy home. 
 
 Like some forgotten legend these events 
 
 Lay in men's minds, fast fading and obscure. 
 
 The merchant never spoke his children's 
 names, 
 
''Legend oj Antioch'' 199 
 
 Except to her, whose aching heart still 
 
 mourned. 
 Months grew to years, and years coursed 
 
 slowly by. 
 But mighty is the healing power of time, 
 And gracious is the power of children's love; 
 Three younger ones remained to fill the 
 
 void, 
 Giving fair promise as they upward grew: 
 One, Loia, like her mother, stately, tall, 
 And Eunice, in whom Zilra smiled again. 
 A stripling, Placidus, now active grown. 
 Resembled Talmon'in his early days. 
 Forever anxious was the doting love, 
 With which the stricken parents guarded these, 
 Their living treasures. What was merchan- 
 dise 
 To flesh and blood, and young devoted hearts? 
 Sad memories grew fainter, year by year, 
 Yet faded not, because suspense fed hope. 
 Ne'er came a single clue of life or death. 
 And so these dull, blank lives crept on apace. 
 A glorious day now dawned for Antioch. 
 Ne'er marched bold conquerors to her gates 
 before 
 
200 " Leiend of Aniioch " 
 
 In guise so humble. Spent were they and 
 
 worn, 
 With neither scrip nor staff, tho' heralds high 
 Of Heaven's Lord and King; they meekly 
 
 come 
 To crave admittance at the city gates. 
 Swing gladly wide, ye portals, wider yet. 
 Receive the Word they bring; thy title earn, 
 shining Eastern Crown! Blest Antioch! 
 Thou dids't throw off thy shackles readily; 
 A Christian first was given that sweet name 
 Within thy walls; there thousands flocked 
 
 beneath 
 The sacred, blood-stained banner of the Cross: 
 Though some were left to scoff and persecute, 
 They could not dim the glory of thy faith. 
 Great temples were deserted, idols fell, 
 The senseless rite and cruel sacrifice 
 Gave place to Christian worship undefiled; 
 Then Peter's See was fixed at Antioch. 
 Forgetfully Mustama lingered once, 
 While an Apostle, filled with burning zeal, 
 Poured forth the teachings of his Risen Lord: 
 Blessed are they that mourn! And wherefore 
 
 blest? 
 
'* Legend of Antioch" 201 
 
 'Tis doctrine truly strange! And yet the 
 
 words 
 Rang with sweet changes in Mustama's ear, 
 When he had reached his desolated house. 
 ** Knowest thou wherefore mourners are called 
 
 blest? " 
 His wife amazed, asked *' Whence this senti- 
 ment? 
 Tve heard the same before." " Thou? when 
 
 and where? 
 Our citizens are thronging fast to hear 
 New doctrines, preached by Galilean men. 
 Once fishermen, I'm told." *' Gently speak 
 
 they? 
 And lead they holy lives? And promise all 
 Eternal life and peace beyond the grave? " 
 " They do. Enchanted likewise thou hast 
 
 heard " — 
 ** Nay, lord; " — her lips paled — ** only it was 
 
 thus 
 Our Talmon spoke." "What! he a Christian 
 
 too? " 
 ** To me, himself the secret did impart, 
 That night upon the river long ago." 
 A silence fell. At last the man exclaimed, 
 
202 ** Legend of Antioch " 
 
 " Woman, our lives are passing fast away, 
 And long hath Sorrow marked us for her own; 
 If there be aught of comfort we can find 
 In Christ's religion — if he deemed it good, 
 Let us, too, share the faith which Talmon 
 
 prized." 
 " This was his daily prayer," she cried, *' come, 
 
 come. 
 We and our children, all, will seek to-day. 
 The Messenger of Christ." 
 
 Within a grove, 
 Of laurels, sacred to Adonis fair, 
 A grave man sat, some parchment reading 
 
 low; 
 His bearded mouth seemed formed for gra- 
 cious speech. 
 And dignity his every movement stamped. 
 A younger man, tall, swarthy and well knit, 
 Now cautiously approached; with reverence 
 
 bowed, 
 ** Good sir, a freedman, Hudiken, am I, 
 By promise and for duty's sake I come. 
 Leagues hence, an oasis, neglected lies, 
 Poor lepers, stricken waifs, do there abide. 
 Accurst by men, and banished to the waste. 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 203 
 
 Three went unscathed, but years have doubt- 
 less brought 
 The curse to them as well. My parents these, 
 And one, a noble youth, left in full health. 
 To cherish his young sister until death. ^^ 
 He is a Christian, so he did not shrink." 
 *' God's charity moved them to such a deed. 
 His love will not forget their needs; what 
 
 more.-^ 
 All Zilra's history Hudiken rehearsed, 
 Adding that he had given solemn word 
 To dwell near Antioch, and patient wait 
 Till men arrived, empowered to preach the 
 
 Word. 
 To desert even, they, perhaps, would send 
 Some drops, at least, of Heaven's refreshing 
 
 dew. 
 " Good sir, for saving waters, three yet pine. 
 For them this boon I crave." " Tis granted 
 
 thee. 
 To-morrow, meet me at the northern gate." 
 
 The first, shy song birds saw the trav'lers start, 
 And ere the break of day they trod the sand. 
 Twas like the Master's parable in fact, 
 
204 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 This leaving safe the ninety-nine to seek 
 The straying few. minister of God! 
 What powers, strong and marvelous, are 
 
 thine! 
 How far above the earth and worldly cares 
 Should all thy thoughts and feelings high 
 
 ascend ! 
 The silent Julius burns with eager zeal, 
 Tho* all the sacerdotal functions yet, 
 Belong not to his fast advancing years. 
 His steps are hurried, when in distance gleams 
 The tiny circlet rare of emerald hue: 
 Talmon had marked this spot while journey- 
 ing, 
 Tho* not then dreaming it would be his 
 
 home. 
 By contrast greater was its loveliness; 
 Two lofty palm trees, shaded from the sun, 
 Between a glassy brook reflected clear. 
 Soft, mossy banks where nodding flowers 
 
 grew; 
 More strange than these, a human dwelling 
 
 rose, 
 Inhabitated, tho' rudely built and thatched, 
 With signs of cultivation near each door. 
 
" Legend 0/ Antioch " 205 
 
 From either entrance, onward led a path 
 Unto a garden, parted all the way 
 By trellis-work, vine-covered thickly o'er. 
 Above a wilting plant old Kappa bent; 
 Heard he, surprised and awed, a stranger's 
 
 voice. 
 His dim eyes failed to read the once known 
 
 face, 
 Till Hudiken, in tender greeting spoke. 
 *' At last, thy son brings tidings from on 
 
 High." 
 Eight times the seasons now had come and 
 
 gone. 
 Eight years had Zilra a foul leper been; 
 Eight years had Talmon bravely toiled and 
 
 prayed. 
 Since he life's prospects freely sacrificed. 
 At first, for many months the girl was wild, 
 Made frantic with heart misery and pain; 
 She wept by day and in her troubled sleep 
 Clung to the fluted columns of her home. 
 Or raised weak arms to clasp her mother's 
 
 neck; 
 Oft falling into blank despair again, 
 When glimmering reason did the truth unveil. 
 
206 " Legend of Antioch " 
 
 Plight piteous! Poor Talmon's pleading 
 
 prayers, 
 Ascending hour by hour, at length were heard, 
 For God is merciful, as He is just. 
 Not without struggle was the victory won; 
 By nature proud, his will revolted oft; 
 ** My Saviour, often have I longed to die; 
 But oh! not thus! Yea, I have coveted 
 The martyr's crown, but not the leper's 
 
 garb." 
 Then he remembered how his Lord had prayed, 
 And when the dread disease attacked him too, 
 An inward grace accompanied the blight, 
 With love submissive to his Father's will. 
 Her reason, after this, the girl regained, 
 And partly fathomed his heroic deed: 
 What power had nerved her brother's soul 
 
 like steel? 
 Could his deep love for her outweigh all else? 
 In silence on this thought she pondered long, 
 On lowly pallet resting. ** Bresca, here! 
 Call thou my brother." Smiling, Talmon 
 
 came. 
 ** My father loved me, yet he drove me forth; 
 Why didst thou follow to this dreadful place, 
 
** Legend of Antioch " 207 
 
 Only to wear my curse? " " Because I serve 
 A Master dear, whose law is charity. 
 Sister, canst thou recall my dreams of yore, 
 Beneath the olive trees? " ** I do recall." 
 " Rest easy now and I will soon reveal, 
 The secrets I then promised thou shouldst 
 
 hear." 
 When evening came he sat beside the maid 
 And told the story of a Saviour's love. 
 With slow solemnity befitting truth. 
 Her soul caught fire from his ardor pure; 
 What he had done, was his best argument; 
 And as her human love led on to God, 
 Grace worked its wonders in her child-like 
 
 heart. 
 She stilled her weeping, checked her sighs 
 
 with prayer. 
 Prayer for one grace; she only feared to die. 
 Before the sacred tide made clean her soul. 
 So was that twilight in the desert glad, 
 It brought the hopeful hour. In sack-cloth 
 
 clad 
 Stood little Zilra, at the font prepared; 
 With clustering brown hair her brow still 
 
 veiled, 
 
208 " Legend of Anlioch " 
 
 Sole unchanged relic of the sunny past; 
 Her face — a mother's eye could scarcely know. 
 " My child, by power divine, the holy stream 
 Can instant heal thy soul and body too. 
 Wouldst thou, to-day, be made all whole and 
 
 clean? " 
 "Oh! cleanse my soul, as white as lambkin's 
 
 fleece; 
 My worthless body keeps that soul from 
 
 God; 
 Let it decay. For Talmon I will plead." 
 Then o'er her fevered brow the deacon poured, 
 The blessed flood, while God from Heaven 
 
 filled 
 That child-like spirit with a tide of grace. 
 Zilra, beautiful no more, but blest! 
 Angels, not men, are smiling now on thee! 
 The first pale stars came out and multiplied, 
 Before the solemn rites and prayers were 
 
 done; 
 For there was joy, too, for the faithful slaves 
 Made Christians on this holy, happy night. 
 With Talmon and with Zilra of one Fold. 
 A peaceful rest, and when the morning broke 
 Dear Zilra softly called: ** Of thee, I dreamed, 
 
" Legend of Antioch " 209 
 
 My brother. Thou wert loved and honored 
 
 much, 
 Where once we dwelt— the lord in that abode." 
 " Our nearest home is Heaven, sister dear." 
 " Nearest for mc, in truth, but God designs 
 Some mission, on this earth, for thee; go 
 
 thou. 
 With Julius, here, unto the city walls. 
 And 'neath the great Apostle's shadow there 
 Thou shalt a healing find; so God intends." 
 "Praised be His holy Name, then I will 
 
 go." 
 At sunset by the city's eastern walls, 
 A leper stood, meek waiting for his cure, 
 None other than our Talmon from the waste. 
 A saint raised his anointed hands aloft 
 In supplication for the sufferer. 
 The hideous scales fell off and left the youth 
 His manly strength and vigor full restored. 
 Talmon gave thanks with thrill of holy joy. 
 And sought again his silent, desert home. 
 There to abide with Zilra to the end; 
 Although his princely house was very nigh, 
 Not e'en his eyes turned lingering that way. 
 She felt no envy at her brother's cure, 
 
210 '* Legend of Antioch '* 
 
 But murmured sweetly: ** Now, I pass with 
 
 joy, 
 And when I sleep, go thou to Antioch.'* 
 Before another year had slipped away. 
 Beside the desert hermitage she slept. 
 
 One quiet evening when the winds sang low, 
 And fire-flies flickered in the darkening green, 
 Three youthful forms were playing in the 
 
 court, 
 About the mercer's home. An aged pair 
 Sat peacefully beneath that vestibule, 
 And spoke of other days and blasted hopes, 
 With resignation tempering their words. 
 ** Our hopes in Heaven are firmly rooted 
 
 now; 
 There we shall realize God's bounteous love." 
 ** Taste, even here, its sweetness," said a voice, 
 And Talmon stood before them. Happy hour; 
 'Twas like a foretaste of rich, heavenly bliss 
 To which alone they looked for happiness. 
 Unfelt, forgotten was past misery, 
 In this glad restoration, unforeseen. 
 How hung they o'er that sweet and mournful 
 
 tale 
 
** Legend of Antioch " 211 
 
 Of their fair daughter's saintly life and death. 
 To them he grew a hundred-fold more dear, 
 For that brave, virtual sacrifice of life. 
 Long, peaceful years close knitted all their 
 
 hearts. 
 They tell us, ever after, o'er that house 
 A white- winged angel, hovering at dusk 
 Held wide bright arms as if in benison. 
 Men felt a blest composure as they passed, 
 And called the place the Christian's '* House 
 
 of Peace." 
 So ends our tale; the sequel Heaven reserves. 
 
 PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
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 Thoughts and Affections on Passion of »^hrist. 
 
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 Thoughts and Counsels for Young Men. Wirth net 1 25 
 Training OF Children in Their Teens. Madame Cecilia, net 1 ^5 
 True Politeness. Demore. • tt t, "f/ i ;n 
 
 True Spouse of Christ. 2 vols. Liguoru Each, net i 5U 
 
 Veneration of Blessed Virgin. Rohner-Brennan. net i ^5 
 
 Victories of the Martyrs. Liguori. "^^ { =" 
 
 Visit to Europe and the Holy Land. Fairbanks. i ju 
 
 Vocations Explained. }. r.r 
 
 Way of the Cross. Paper. . . ,^ , , n 1 
 
 Way of the Cross. Euchanstic Method. , , . . • ^ n 
 
 Way of the Cross. Method of St. Francis of Assisi. 
 
 Way of the Cross. Jesuit Method. " ^" 
 
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Way of the Cross. Method of St. Alpbonsus LiguorJ. 
 
 Way of Salvation and ^Perfection. Liguori. 
 
 Way of Interior Peace. De Lehen. 
 
 What Catholics Have Done for Science. Brennan. 
 
 What the Church Teaches. Drury. Paper, net, 0.20; 
 
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 With God. Lasance. 
 
 NOVELS 
 
 Agatha's Hard Saying. Rosa Mulholland. 
 
 Back to the World. Champol. 
 
 Best Stories by the Foremost Catholic Authors. 
 10 vols. $3.00 in connection with Benziger's Maga- 
 zine. 
 
 Bit of Old Ivory, A. 
 
 Black Brotherhood. Garrold. 
 
 Bond and Free. Connor. 
 
 But Thy Love and Thy Grace. Finn. 
 
 Carroll Dare. Waggaman. 
 
 Circus Rider's Daughter. Brackel. 
 
 Connor D'Arcy's Struggles. Bertholds. 
 
 Corinne's Vow. Waggaman. 
 
 Daughter of Kings. Hinkson. 
 
 Dion and the Sybils. M. Keon. 
 
 Double Knot. 
 
 Fabiola. Wiseman. 4to. 
 
 Fabiola. Wiseman. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 Fabiola's Sisters. Clarke. 
 
 Fatal Beacon. Brackel. 
 
 Faustula. Ayscough. 
 
 Forgive and Forget. Lingen. 
 
 Friendly Little Home. 
 
 Hearts of Gold. Edhor. 
 
 Heiress of Cronenstein. Hahn-Hahn. 
 
 Her Blind Folly. Holt. 
 
 Her Father's Daughter. Hinkson. 
 
 Idols. Navery. 
 
 In the Days of King Hal. Taggart. 
 
 In God's Good Time. Ross. 
 
 "Kind Hearts and Coronets." Harrison. 
 
 Lady of the Tower. 
 
 Lady of the Violets. 
 
 Let No Man Put Asunder. Marie. 
 
 Light of His Countenance. Harte. 
 
 Little Cardinal. Parr. 
 
 Linked Lives. Douglas. 
 
 Mafcella Grace. Rosa Mulholland. 
 
 Mariae Corolla, Hill. 
 
 Melchior of Boston. Earls. 
 
 Mighty Friend. L'Ermite. 
 
 Mirror of Shalott. Benson. 
 
 Miss Erin. Francis. 
 
 Monk's Pardon. Navery. 
 
 
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Mr. Billy Buttons. Leeky. 
 
 My Lady Beatrice. Cooke, 
 Not a Judgment. Keon. 
 
 One Afternoon and Other Stories. 
 
 Other Miss Lisle. Martin. 
 
 Out of Bondage. Holt. 
 
 Outlaw of Camargue. De Lamothe. 
 
 Passing Shadows. Yorke. 
 
 Passion Flowers. Hill. 
 
 Pere Monnier's Ward. Lecky. 
 
 PiLKiNGTON Heir. Sadlier. 
 
 Prisoners' Years. Clarke. 
 
 Prodigal's Daughter. Bug^. 
 
 Red Inn at St. Lyfhar. Sadlier. 
 
 Road Beyond the Town. Earls. 
 
 Romance of a Playwright. Bornier. 
 
 Rose of the World. Martin. 
 
 Round Table of German Catholic Novelists. 
 
 Round Table of French Catholic Novelists. 
 
 Round Table of American Catholic Novelists. 
 
 Round Table of Irish and English Catholic Novelists 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. I. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. II. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. III. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. IV. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. V. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. VI. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. VII. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. VIII. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. IX. 
 
 Round the World Series. Vol. X. 
 
 Ruler of the Kingdom. Keon. 
 
 Secret of the Green Vase. Cooke. 
 
 Senior Lieutenant's Wager. 
 
 Shadow of Eversleigh. Lansdowne. 
 
 So As By Fire. Connor. 
 
 SoGGARTH Aroon. Guinan. 
 
 Son of Siro. Copus. 
 
 Songs and Sonnets. Egan. 
 
 Story of Cecilia. Hinkson. 
 
 Stuore. Earls. 
 
 Tempest of the Heart. Gray. 
 
 Test of Courage. Ross. 
 
 Th.\t Man's Daughter. Ross. 
 
 Their Choice. Skinner. 
 
 Through the Desert. Sienkiewicz. 
 
 Trail of the Dragon. 
 
 Training of Silas. Devine. 
 
 True Story of Master Gerard. Sadlier. 
 
 Turn of the Tide. Gray. 
 
 Unbidden Guest. Cooke. 
 
 Under the Cedars and Stars. Sheehan. 
 
 Unravelling of a Tangle. Taggart. 
 
 Up in Ardmuirland. Barrett. 
 
 Vocation of Edward Conway. Egan. 
 
 Wargrave Trust. Reid. 
 
 
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Way That Led Beyond. Harrison. 
 Wedding Bells of Glendalough. Earls. 
 When Love Is Strong. Keen. 
 Where the Road Led. 
 Woman of Fortune. Reid. 
 Women of Catholicity. Sadlier. 
 World Well Lost. Robertson. 
 
 JUVENILES 
 
 Althea. Nirdlinger. 
 
 Adventure with the Apaches, An. Ferry. 
 
 As Gold in the Furnace. Copus. 
 
 As True as Gold. Mannix. 
 
 Armorer of Solingen. Herchenbach. 
 
 Bell Foundry, The. Schaching. 
 
 Berkleys, The. Wight. 
 
 Best Foot Forw^ard. Finn. 
 
 Between Friends. Aumerle. 
 
 Black Lady, The. Schmid. 
 
 Bistouri. Melandri. 
 
 Blissylvania Post-Office. Taggart. 
 
 BoB-o'-LiNK. Waggaman. 
 
 Boys in the Block. Egan. 
 
 Brownie and I. Aumerle. 
 
 Bunt and Bill. C. Mulholland. 
 
 Buzzer's Christmas. Waggaman. 
 
 By Branscome River. Taggart. 
 
 Cake, The, and the Easter Eggs. Schmid. 
 
 Canary Bird, The, and Other Tales. Schmid. 
 
 Captain Ted. Waggaman. 
 
 Cave by the Beech Fork, The. Spalding. 
 
 Charlie Chittywick. Bearne. 
 
 Children of Cupa. Mannix. 
 
 Children of the Log Cabin. Delamare. 
 
 Clare Loraine. "Lee." 
 
 Claude Lightfoot. Finn. 
 
 College Boy, A. Yorke. 
 
 Cupa Revisited. Mannix. 
 
 Daddy Dan. Waggaman. 
 
 Dear Friends. Nirdlinger. 
 
 Dimpling's Success. C. Mulholland. 
 
 Dollar Hunt, The. E. G. Martin, 
 
 Ethelred Preston, Finn. 
 
 Every-Day Girl, An. Crowley. 
 
 Fatal Diamonds, The. Donnelly. , 
 
 Five o'Clock Stories, 
 
 Flower of the Flock. Egan. 
 
 For the White Rose. Hinkson. 
 
 Freddy Carr's Adventures. Garrold. 
 
 Freddy Carr and His Friends. Garrold. 
 
 Fred's Little Daughter. S. T. Smith, 
 
 Godfrey the Little Hermit. Schmid. 
 
 Golden Lily, The. Hinkson. 
 
 Great Captain, The. Hinkson. 
 
 Guii.D Boys of Ridingdale. Bearne, 
 
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Haldeman Children, The. Mannix. 
 
 Harmony Flats. Whitmire. 
 
 Harry Dee. Finn. 
 
 Harry Russell. Copus. 
 
 Heir of Dreams, An. O'Malley. 
 
 His First and Last Appearance. Finn. 
 
 Hop Blossoms, The. Schmid. 
 
 Hostage of War. Bonesteel. 
 
 How They Worked Their Way. Egan. 
 
 In Quest of the Golden Chest. Barton. 
 
 Inundation, The, and Other Tales. Herchenbach. 
 
 "Jack." 
 
 Jack Hildreth on the Nile. Taggart. 
 
 Jack O'Lantern. Waggaman. 
 
 Juniors of St. Bede's. Bryson. 
 
 Juvenile Round Table. First Series. 
 
 Juvenile Round Table. Second Series. 
 
 Juvenile Round Table. Third Series. 
 
 Klondike Picnic, A. Donnelly. 
 
 Lamp of the Sanctuary. Wiseman. 
 
 Legends and Stories of the Child Jesus from Many 
 
 Lands. Lutz. 
 Little Apostle on Crutches. Delamare. 
 Little Girl from Back East. Roberts. 
 Little Missy. Wdggaman. 
 Loyal Blue and Royal Scarlet. Taggart. 
 Madcap Set at St. Anne's. Brunowe. 
 Making of Mortlake. Copus. 
 ]\Iarks of the Bear Claws. Spalding. 
 Mary Tracy's Fortune. Sadlier. 
 Master Fridolin. Giehrl. 
 Melor of the Silver Hand. Bearne. 
 MiLLY Aveling. S. T. Smith. 
 More Five o'Clock Stories. 
 Mostly Boys. Finn. 
 My Strange Friend, Finn. 
 Mystery of Cleverly. Barton. 
 Mysterious Doorway. Sadlier. 
 Mystery of Hornby Hall. Sadlier. 
 Nan Nobody. W^aggaman. 
 Ned Rieder. Wehs. 
 New Boys at Ridingdale. Bearne. 
 New Scholar at St. Anne's. Brunowe. 
 Old Charlmont's Seed Bed. S. T. Smith. 
 Old Mill on the Withrose. Spalding. 
 Old Robber's Castle. Schmid. 
 Our Lady's Lutenist. Bearne. 
 Overseer of Mahlbourg. Schmid. 
 Pancho and Panchita. Mannix. 
 Pauline Archer. Sadlier. 
 Peril of Dionysio. Mannix. 
 Percy Wynn. Finn. 
 Petronilla. Donnelly. 
 Pickle and Pepper. Dorsey. 
 Pilgrim from Ireland. Carnot. 
 Playwater Plot. Waggaman. 
 
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PovERiNA. Buckenham. 85 
 
 Queen's Page. Hinkson. 45 
 
 Queen's Promise. Waggaman. 60 
 
 Race for Copper Island. Spalding. 85 
 
 Recruit Tommy Collins. Bonesteel. 45 
 
 Ridingdale Flower Show. Bearne. 85 
 
 Romance of the Silver Shoon. Bearne. 85 
 
 Rose Bush, The. Schmid. 25 
 
 Sea-Gulls' Rock. Sandeau. 45 
 
 Seven Little Marshalls. Nixon-Roulet. 45 
 
 Seven Little Marshalls at the Lake. Nix-^t-^ioulet. 85 
 
 Shadows Lifted. Copus. 85 
 
 Sheer Pluck. Bearne. 85 
 
 Sheriff of the Beech Fork. Spalding. 85 
 
 St. Cuthbert's. Copus. 85 
 
 Strong Arm of Avalon. Waggaman. 85 
 
 Sugar-Camp and After. Spalding. 85 
 
 Summer at Woodville. Sadlier. 45 
 
 Tales and Legends of the Middle Ages. '''yveUa. 75 
 
 Talisman, The Sadlier. 60 
 
 Taming of Polly. Dorsey. 85 
 
 That Football Game. Finn. 85 
 
 Three Girls and Especially One. Tag«^V, 45 
 
 Three Little Kings. Giehrl. 25 
 
 Told in the Twilight. Mother Salome,. 85 
 
 Tom Losely: Boy. Copus. 85 
 
 Tom's Luck-Pot. Waggaman. 45 
 
 Tom Playfair. Finn. 85 
 
 Tooralladdy. Walsh. 45 
 
 Transplanting of Tessie. Waggaman. 60 
 
 Treasure of Nugget Mountain. Taggrrt. 85 
 
 Two Little Girls. Mack. 45 
 
 Violin Maker, The. Schaching. 45 
 Wager of Gerald O'Rourke. Pla?' adapted from a story 
 
 by Father Finn. net, 35 
 
 Wayward Winifred. Sadlier. 85 
 
 Winnetou the Apache Knight. Taggart. 85 
 
 Witch of Ridingdalf. Bearne. 85 
 
 Wrongfully Accused Herchen'oach. 45 
 
 VouNG Color Guah^, ^ )T-s*eel. 45 
 
 10 
 
I 
 
JUL 12 1913 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 016 235 666 5 
 
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