I ^' k«V^^ vC-X^ ,f 1 IH r I ^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf ..-A<:^..f ^'^ UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. BELLES AND BEAUX, WITH OTHER POEMS. / Laura M. Colvin. ROCHESTER, N. Y.: CHARLES MANN, 73 MEIGS STREET. 1883. 7^ /^^ {. v"" Copyright, 1882, By LAURA M. COLVIN. From the press of Charles Mann, Rochester, N. Y. Mrs. olive GOODRICH, THESE roEMS ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BV THE AUTHOR. INDEX. Belles and Beaux i Venus and Vulcan 45 Heavenly Mansions 50 A H ome Song 54 A Mirthful Book 56 Winter 58 The Blue Violet 61 The Midnight Lamp 63 The Old Man 66 At Rest 68 The Death of the Prince Imperial 71 The Beechen Woods 74 Years After 78 A Cup of Tea 81 A Cup of Coffee 85 To-morrow 87 Charlotte Bronte 89 The Wax Figure in a Broadway Window.. 90 Thanksgiving of the Iroquois lOO Esthetic Verse 104 INDEX. Two Authors — Longfellow-Dickens 105 The Newspaper 107 Four Queens 109 Going Home 113 Our Teacher 117 War 119 Lips Now Dust 121 Far and Near 1 24 A Summer Idyl 127 Out in the Rain 131 Larkspur Rings 135 Memories 1 39 The Fairy Talisman; or, Hammered Heads.. 141 The Birds Have Come Again 146 Linen-Spinning Days 148 The Gypseys' Home 153 Unlucky Words.. . 157 The Serenade 1 59 At the Grand Hotel ... 264 The Horse-Shoe 167 Dressed for the Ball 171 Clematis and Apricots 173 The Bachelor Button 176 May Day 1 77 A Plaque 183 The Wooden Hill 185 INDEX. The Butterfly i88 The Tulip 1 89 Time of Day 191 Virginia 202 The Violin 204 The Farm-house Gate 208 The Singer of One Song 213 The Hunted Deer 215 Fasting 217 The Little Cousin 220 My Mother 222 Transcendent 223 Red Roses 224 The Battlemented House 225 Rosemary 229 Lulu and Will 232 Cloud-land 233 Tick Tack 235 Peacocks and Lilies 237 The Loom 239 Old-fashioned Flowers 241 Gold 244 The Tree 247 Venice 248 Moth and Flame 249 Gold, Marble, Purple 250 INDEX. White Satin 251 The Golden Violet 252 Adolphine 253 Appreciation 254 The Two Builders 255 Ghosts of the Gothic Hall 257 BELLES AND BEAUX. AH, Belles and Beaux — a. pleasing theme, if spoiled not in m}^ rhymes — 'Tis one j'oung people hav'e discussed how many, many times ; And given as a zest to all the chit-chat of the day About the ball and masquerade, the matinee or play. By Belles and Beaux are meant all those unwedded, gay and young ; Of such as lovers, all the Bards, time out of mind, have sung ; Of such the Novelist must write on his enchanting page, For such, for these have loved Romance in every clime and age. 2 BELLES AM) BEAUX. All Lexicons define a Belle — a service undesired, Of course a Belle is beautiful, and gay, and much admired, And triumphs o'er all rivalship, she, the resplendent one ; There are more lovers in her train than planets 'round the sun ! She's more bouquets and serenades than other girls can boast ; When glasses clink around the board, she is the ruling toast ; Oft at assemblies she is seen — all praise her wit and grace, O, how much sovereignty is in that small domain — her face ! A Beau — though cjuite superfluous its meaning to explain — Especially to pretty girls of many conquests vain — A beau is one who studies dress and manners with a care Of being pleasing to the sight of every lady fair ; BELLES AND BEAUX. 3 He says or looks more flattering things than he can quite beheve, And never seems to know when one is lauohine in her sleeve ; For ladies he's the first to rise in crowded hall or stage, Though never thanked — such chivalry transcends the feudal agre I Of all the Beaux young ladies like their beau-ideal best ! He's handsomer, and wittier, and nobler than the rest ; He talks in such a lofty strain, has such a prince!}- mien, The Romeo of Juliet when she is sweet sixteen. Like Capulet and Montague, time and experience prove Most stern to youth's ideals and those fancies called first love, 4 BELLES AND BEAUX, That fill the heart with jealousies, conflicting- hopes and fears, And yet but furnish food for Mirth, reviewed in after years. Adonis was not handsomer. Narcissus not more vain Than our exquisite who so needs a little more of brain ! He thinks all hearts must sigh for him — pities the pretty dears ! O Vanity I that dotage that is common to all years ! Ah, whoso farcies such a flat must plead that Lo\^e is blind — How oft an ill-assot;ted pair the chains of wedlock bind. To whom the name of home becomes the saddest word, perforce, Whose love endureth //(:V"till death," — but endeth in divorce ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 5 Much intellect some men assert women should ne'er possess ; "A wile that knows more than myself, I'll not have," they confess. There's many a believer in this creed of olden schools, For Providence has planned that such must marry off the fools ! Ah, here's the little angel to beam upon their way, What soft \\'ords simper fram her lips, round which the dimples play ; How sweetly-blooming is her cheek, how sparkling is her eye, She's pretty — so's a humming-bird, so is a but- terfly ! The ardent jealous lover cries, " Thou idol of my heart, Would thou wert veiled from others' gaze, shrined from the world apart I" 6 BELLES \K1) BEAUX. He who is woman's abject slave while hours of courtship last, Proves the domestic tyrant when the honeymoon is past ! His wife must no opinions hold that differ from his own ; Poor thini^! she'll learn to watch his voice and tremble at its tone. He means to be her master, thoui^h he's snatched to Death's domains. And grants her dower only while his widow she remains ! How sweet the Zephyr's whisperings throughout the summer hours, And who that saw the gentle sprite, all garlanded with flowers, Would know it as the winter wind which desolates our path. When snarling, scolding, storming, and delirious in wrath ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 7 So she whose voice Cordeha-Hke is ever sweet and low, Whose looks wear Heaven's kindness in the presence of her beau, May change to one whose greatest joy is in con- tentious strife, To one who'll be a martyrdom to him who calls her wife I The scourge can leave its livid mark, and scorpions have their stings, A revolver and a bowie-knife are rather dangerous things ; A poisoned arrow never fails by savage archer flung. Yet none of these more torture wield than can a vixen's tongue ! 'Neath shrewish rale man scarcely knows what sentiments to wear. Perplexed as any aspirant for Presidential chair! 8 BELLES AND BEAUX. What can the poor soul think of those who Woman's Rights advance ! When even now his better-half can crush him with a iilance ! Safer to take Van Amburg's risk, yourself and lions caged. Than 'tis to hint the loved one's faults to those who are engaged. Say not 'tis but a mortal wears the halo of his dreams ; Do not asperse a gentleman who such ' perfection seems. To make or break a match requires a great degree of skill, The "old folks" learn this when they find advice is taken ill ; None oft to other's love afTairs, save gossips, dare allude, Sorry I've spoken ; Like Paul Pry, " I hope I don't intrude !" BELLES AND HEAUX. 9 All "fuss and feathers" is the hen that spreads a sheltering wing For her young brood — ineiegant comparison I bring — All fluttter and all fashion are the anxious dames be sure Who would for all their daughters rich establish- ments secure, The bride of diamond wedding is al\va}'s envied so ! The course of love for millionaires runs smooth enough, I trow ; Papa is very complaisant, mamma is very bland. And " Barkis is so willin' "' to accept his heart and hand ! Though beautiful, accomplished belles their fasci- nations tr}' At catching fortunes, the\' should learn much- hunted game is shy ; lO BELLES AND BEAUX. The wolves and bears are doubly wild when they're for bounty sought, The frightened birds the fowler finds have set his toils at naught. Be subtle as the step that steals where partridges up-spring, Adroit as marksman that has hit the bird upon the wing, Intent on angling as are those who Izaak Walton praise. Yet may your goldfish glide away just glimmering to your gaze ! To speak the language of the world, a girl has married well — So well that Mammon's worshippers on her good fortune dwell — When she has gained a house in town with luxury replete, Troops of servants, a fine carriage, a lovely country- seat. BELLES AND BEAUX. II Ay, though her wedded lord is known in business mart to be Base as bhick-bannered pirate, who with terror thrills the sea ! Though he has brimmed the wine-cup till the demons round him rave ! Or though with eye that's bleared with age he stumbles on the erave ! Though miser — at the altar who will grudge the marriage-fee ! Though spendthrift, who his garnered gold like prisoned bird sets free ! Though one she'll sadly contrast with some suitor unforgot, Whose love she'll sometimes dare to think would bless an humbler lot ! A never-ceasing discontent gives her the brow of care, Makes cross-lights for the pictures, tarnishes the gildings rare. 12 BELLES AND BEAUX. Like mildew taints the fairest tints, like moth devours by stealth, How better far is poverty than such ill-fated wealth ! Of all whom we compassionate, the most ill-starred are they That marrying for money find but bankruptcy some day ; For " richer or for poorer " they have sworn it to their grief, There should be some society got up for their relief ! Through speculation, fire, and flood, shall riches find their wings, Strong w ill and tireless energy ma\^ gain the power of kings ! To wed the wealth that's most secure experience doth find, 'Tis best to choose that glorious wealth which dowers both heart and mind ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 1 3 Flirtation is a game of chess that checkmates hearts with skill ; Flirtation — scribbling" moralists delight to speak it ill; They say that disappointed hopes deplore its dan- gerous wiles — Its flattering words, its honeyed tones, its fascinat- ing smiles. It ma}' be reprehensible, yet everybody knows It can't go out of fashion, quite, among the belles and beaux. It fills the pauses of the dance, it shortens moon- light walks, And at each little sociable, bewitching nonsense talks ! " She's such a flirt !" A serious charge, which envious tongues enhance, Till one might think that scalping-knives glim- mered in Beaut\''s glance ; [4 BELLES AND BEAUX. Well, if she flirts, 'tis only with a hated rival's beau. Or when she finds that she can plague a careless lover so. But the male flirt no censure meets, although his fancy goes From face to face, with winning words that wait not to propose ; Like the duck-shooting Irishman, he can't secure the game. Because another bird will sail between him and his aim ! Some ugly men, in ladies' eyes, have gained a world of grace ; Wilkes said it took but half an hour to talk away his face ; But our old bachelor's ill looks no talk could help, I know ; He was mamma's sweet darling once — but that was long ago ! EELLES AND BEAUX. I5 Too cross, too crabbed, and too plain to hope for woman's lo\^e, He never wrote a billet-doux, nor kissed a daintx' glove ; *' In all that sort of foolishness", he says he took no part. Ah, no ! he never trifled with a fond and trusting heart ! One's maiden aunt — proper and prim, sour-visaged. sharp of tongue, She had no offers, no good looks in years when she was young ; The man who takes the census wakes her bitter- ness and rage. Because he makes a certainty of her uncertain age. She boasts her heart invulnerable, as if in armor ' mailed. Yes, any fortress stands secure that never is assailed ! 1 6 BELLES AND BEAUX. She loves strong tea, in scandal she is one of the experts, And we believe her when she says, " She never, never flirts " ! Oh, say, did ever siren's charm as by the ancients sung. Surpass the fascination of a widow, fair and )'Oung? Not bashful she, nor over-bold, but calm and self- possessed ; She knows, of all accomplishments, the art to please is best. A gracious mien, and taste in dress, add to her winning ways. Society accords to her its welcome, and its praise. She says she'll make no second choice — We're not astonished when We hear some day that she has donned the bridal robe aeain. BELLES AND BEAUX. 1 7 A widower, and one that's rich, ah, isn't he a prize ? The fortune-hunters watch for him with mercenary eyes. Though he be old, oft blooming youth devotes to him her life, Though bald and wrinkled he can win a beautiful young wife ; Though he's uncultured he can wed accomplish- ments most rare. For he has wealth and luxury, and tempting is their glare. The complaisant old widower, a suitor, spruce and gay. Seems twice the fool he was in youth, in court- ship's early day. Love is the theme which poets choose in most inspiring hour. They sing about it as the bees round some sweet- breathing flower ; 1 8 BELLES AND BEAUX. And yet howe'er his wondrous way their gifted volumes speak, Love's best biography is read upon the bkishing cheek ! Young Love doth see the earth so fair he scarce for Eden grieves; For him the Moon with full-orbed light looks shim- mering through the leaves, For him each star, from sphere afar, shines with serenest ray. For him the flowers grow voluable and messages convey ! Love never notes old gray-beard Time, with hour- glass in his hand. He's too much rapt in his bright dreams, to watch the slipping sand ; Whether he's housed in hall or cot, but little will he care, Where is the difference, while he builds such castles in the air ? BELLES AND BEAUX. I 9 O, Love can make the humblest swain seem to his chosen one As great a hero as the man who high renown has won ! O Love, thou great enchanter, still dost thou young hearts await ? O, thou shalt prove invincible, and they shall call thee, Fate ! Lo ! the enamored gaze doth make the one be- loved so fair ; It looks an homage coquetry shall not refuse to share ; More loyal than the servitors on royalty who wait. It sees a splendor in one smile beyond the kingly state. Thus Pride and Rank shall stoop themselves to those of humbler birth ; Once angels left their heaven to wed the daughters of the earth ; 20 BELLES AND BEAUX. From Notre Dame Eugenie went in regal robes arrayed ; Ere this, the King Cophetua had loved the beggar- maid ! How blest is she whose image haunts the gifted painter's dreams ; Her face, which Love has given to Fame, upon the canvas gleams ! To her, in proud cathedrals, crowds of worshipers shall bow. Because her loveliness looks down from the Ma- donna's brow ! And still more blest is she who wins the poet's raptured strain. She's crowned and sceptered to the world, and long shall be her reign ! Though royal Mary Stewart oft was Scotland's Mary called, Our Scotland's Mary, Burns doth sing, by Highland lass enthralled ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 21 I said that Youth had loved Romance in every chme and age, And beautiful its visions are upon the glowing page ; Though picturing oft realities that make the world's employ, As Helen in bright tapestry enwrought the siege of Troy. Who would forget the golden hours Romance hath often lent, When we with book in fireside nook the winter evening spent ! Or read all day while 'gainst the pane there roared November's gales. Though we seemed looking out upon rose-flushed, Cashmerian vales. Romance steals from the school-girl's time, telline tales out of school. Until the vexed Preceptress scarce can keep her temper cool-; 22 BELLES AND BEAUX. It makes the music-lessons dull, and laughs to hear the cry, "Come, come, do go and practice now!" "Yes, mother, by-and-by." The student reads, and learns how Law a declara- tion files. Some declaration in Romance meantime provokes his smiles; The Farmer's lad with plow shall drive across the stubborn soil. And Falstaff, known from acted play, shall charm the hour of toil. The Tourist from the harbor sails to brave the stormy tide, Romance a fairy shallop is, in which we safely ride ; Though steamships and aerial cars be to perfection brought. Where is the motive-power that speeds so swiftly as a thought ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 23 We're there upon a distant shore the instant we leave home, And lightly as the thistle-down where'er we wish we roam ; We never grumble at our guides and call their charges dear, We care not if the inns are bad, we do not need their cheer. We do not see the crumbling walls and battlements o'erthrown, The weed-choked court and casement all with ivy overgrown Of ancient castles, but for us the}' keep their olden pride, And 'neath their frowning portal arch the steel- clad warriors glide ! Brave knights and high-born ladies meet around the banquet board. The Minstrel's song flows like the wine from silver flagons poured ; 24 BELLES AND BEAUX. We mark what praise Crusader wins for deeds of high emprise, The jests, the low-breathed compHments, the fondly- smihng eyes. Lo, Hunters, in gay hunting-suits, follow the hounds away ; Leaping the hedge, spurring along, blithe as the morning ray. The red deer from the oak's brown shade their antlers toss with scorn, Wlien echoes faintly on the breeze the mellow bugle-horn. O'er velvet turf, by rustling bough, there sweeps a courtly train. We hear the jingling silver bells upon the bridle rein. And the old sport of Falconry revives again, I wist, And hooded hawk sits perched upon each lord and lady's wrist. BELLES AND BEAUX. 25 We join the rustics in the dance upon the village green, And with her coronal of flowers we see the fair May Queen ; The May-pole is with streamers hung, the lasses have their hair Braided with ribbons, \\hich their swains bought for them at the Fair. We joy to see their faces glow with revelry and mirth, Contentment glads their humble lot as spring-time does the earth ; And pleasant are their lanes and fields, and sweet the hawthorn's bloom. And pleasant e'en the lonely moors where grows the yellow broom. Flitting from Albion we hie to Scotia's heathery braes, The " Wizard of the North " invokes the scenes of other days — 26 BELLES AND BEAUX. O'er Katrine's limpid wave again doth glide fair Ellen's boat, And clans are gathering for the strife — we see their banners float O'er plumed bonnet, tartan plaid — and how their war-cry thrills ! For border warfare they have come from solitary hills. We view the Highlands they have left, their flocks and shielings there, And mountain fastness where shall rise the Cove- nanter's prayer. Loving its legendary lore we sail along the Rhine, We rove along the south of France empurpled by the vine. And share the vintage festival, we wander off again, And hear the tinkling of guitars 'neath balconies in Spain. BELLES AND BEAUX. 2/ By grim Venetian palaces our gondola then flies, Where victims of Tribunals dead pass o'er the Bridge of Sighs, We see the old-time revelers in each deserted hall. The faded hangings glow afresh — just mouldering on the wall ! Then Fancy, tireless pilgrim, wends her way to ancient Rome, To shrines of marble deities — to many a mighty dome ; And Orator of deathless fame, in voice persuasive, calls A vast, admiring multitude within the Forum's walls. We see the victor's laurel wreath, gained in the chariot race ; In crowded amphitheatre, we watch each eager face 28 BELLES AND BEAUX. Glare on the Gladiator's wounds, from which the hfe-blood flows, A fiendish pastime — yet it charmed the Roman belles and beaux. We may not with time-wasting words track all the paths we roam ; The palace and the peasant's hut alike have made our home. From Rank and Fashion in the towns, we stray to lonely dales. Where rural maids and Corydons recall Arcadia's vales. The terraced walk, the velvet lawn, our careless step hath pressed, And breezy common, when the clouds, like fagots, blazed the West ; W' e loiter by the coppice, where the curling smoke aspires, That shows where Gipsies pitch their tents, and lisrht their hearthless fires. BELLES AND BEAUX. 29 In nov^els i^ipsx' Carls and Queens have found a welcome place — Poring upon the open palm, its nn'stic lines to trace, Methinks the dark-browed Sib}'l stands, clutching her bribe of gold, We'd freely give her our last coin to have our fortune told ! Let eager eyes see in what guise the Future shall appear ; Tliere's wealth to deck with costly gems, and buy us silken gear ; There's years to spend in foreign lands — a pleasant thought to )'outh — And hosts of lovers — flattering dream to Vanity, forsooth ! Astrologers, in ages past, could destinies reveal, As midnight skies outspread their scroll, each star a' golden seal ; 50 BELLES AXr> BEAUX. I Out on their occult science, when some old dame eh'inkini;' tea Can turn the cup and tell us all that is, or is to be ! Or deemin;;- life a simple game, like whist or euchre pla}-ed. She'll weigh it 'gainst a heart, or club, or diamond, or a spade. Her shrewd predictions often with }our inclina- tions jump. So good her guessing that she proves herself a perfect trump ! We could not speak of Belles and Beai.ix, in their attire so g"a\'. Without a passing" word or so of Fashion's might}' swa\' ; For Fashion rules each village dance as well as stately hall. Where belles of our Republic meet to grace the brilliant ball. BELLES AND BEAUX. 3 1 Yes, Fasliion will assert her power, although the Cynics frown ; It makes the damsel proud to wear her last new hat or gown ; It makes the Chinese lady pinch her foot in tiny shoe, And makes each gentleman desire to dress as others dol Since that sad hour when Eden's gate was barred by flaming brand, And Eve and Adam wandered forth to toil, and till the land, For food and raiment have we sought, through all the earth's broad plains, And food and raiment make the plea for all our golden gains ; So delving for the earth's full store for many a weary tla}'. The board gets spread with viands rare, we walk in rich array, 32 BELLES AND BEAUX. And Fashion hath licr votaries, whom mother Eve to bless, Opened her eyes, and stitched the leaf, and gave the charm of dress ! Inventors, taxing weary brains, striving the world to bless, Have \\-rouglit improvements in the tints and texture of our dress ; And men of capital have built the looms that go by steam, Whose plan in b}'-gone }'ears had seemed as idle as a dream. Machiner)-, with unresisting arm, a Wizard's power can wield, It gives fair dames as rich attire as lilies of the f^eld. Behold upon the ocean's blue how many white sails swell. They're bringing in the wardrobes of each fashion- able Belle! BELLES AND BEAUX. 33 Upon the pathways of the hills the shepherd guides his flock, Or sees the lambs about him pla\', from some gray, moss-grown rock ; Above, in fields of summer blue, the clouds repose in peace, Around, in fields of living green, he counts the snowy fleece, The snowy fleece that busy hands shall change to garments warm. The mantle or the Highland plaid to shield from drivdng storm ; The broadcloth coat, the bright-hued dress, howe'er the thread may twine, The skeins of zephyr wrought in flowers where jeweled fingers shine. From mulberr}' leaf the silk-worm spins her shroud, the bright cocoon, That shroud, to shining satin changed, shall grace the gay saloon. 34 BELLES AND BEAUX. Shall drape the lofty casement in many a massive fold, Or make a robe for Royalty, enriched with gems and gold. Shall freight rich ships for distant seas in traffic round the world, Or in a nation's banner all proudly be un- furled. Shall make a ministerial robe, or mist-like bridal veil, Or shine within the needle's eye, stitched by a seamstress pale. Each country school-girl will recall the mittens soft and warm. The mother knit to shield dear hands from Win- ter's frost and storm ; In later years the blushing lass thinks only gloves will do, Since many a devoted swain she's given the mit- ten to ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 35 And compliments, and moonlight walks, smiles, blushes, courtship's hours. Are but the [)rclude to white gloves, and garlands of white flowers ; The bridegroom with his chosen one before the altar stands, And listening unto solemn words they clasp white- kidded hands ! The Rose, who is the Queen o'er all of Flora's fair domain, In one old-fashioned velvet robe is clad through- out her reign ; What would a belle at Newport or at Saratoga say, If, like the flower, she'd but one dress to wear day after day ? If each fine lady like the flow^ers had no afTected grace. How willingly would all admire her costume or her face ! 36 BELLES AND BEAUX. The haughty belle on common folks so insolently stares, She puts on jewels, and fine dress, and then she puts on airs! Sweeping the Century aside, a vision we dis- close, And in their social circles see New England's Belles and Beaux ; There's nothing ghostly in their looks, revisiting the earth, Their faces glow with ruddy health, their voices ring with mirth ! In their now-antiquated garb behold the youthful throng. As in their places in the Past again they glide along ! Their cottage-homes are rudely reared beside the rocks and rills. For luxury is little known in their secluded hills. BELLES AND BEAUX. 37 Hiirk to the sleigh bells hurried chimes ! ex- hilarating sound ! What happiness in those swift sleighs that skim along the ground ! And make the snow-drifts, gleaming bright, glide back on either hand, Carved by the wind in grander line than sculptor ever planned ! Gay parties for the singing'-school are riding forth to-night, For they aspire to fill the choir -and sing the psalms aright; Their laughing faces sober down when they the anthem raise, Within the simple meeting-house of Puritanic days ! O'er flowery field and mountain slope they stroll in summer time, They gather nuts from the brown woods when comes the Autumn's prime ; T,8 BELLES AND BEAUX. And as the orchards \'icld their store, the cheerful fire-h'ght falls On strings of apples they have pared, festooning the rude walls. And hear the jokes, and list the songs, with which they charm their toil ; The\'"re happy, doomed to daiK' tasks upon a rugged soil ; At apple-parings, husking-bees, the young folk.s often meet, And busy hands and busy tongues can make the moments fleet. Upon the hill-side lies the corn, just loosened from its sheaves. As huskers from the golden ears strip off the rustling leaves ; The baskets soon are heaped with maize, for none shall play the sliirk, Though telling stories, trilling songs, and laugh- ing as they work. BELLES AND BEAUX. 39 The moon steals out to lend the light she bor- rows from the sun, Though many lanterns are aglow, hers is the brightest one ; Now the red ear of corn, just found, the lad displa}'s with pride, It bids him kiss the pretty Miss that's seated b)' his side I Soon to the farm-house they shall wend, expectant of the dance. The fiddler lightly draws his bow, their young hearts to entrance. Balance — cross over — right and left — such words as these you'll hear, O how that wicked, fiddling sound would vex the Deacon's ear ! What forms more fair in proud saloons than these in homespun clad? Strike up the notes of Money Musk — what faces are more elad ? 40 BELLES AND BEAUX. Gliding through merr\' measures they shall rest and silence scorn, And toil like Vulcan at his forge until the weary morn ! Behold next day the rustic belle who figured in each reel, Her lightsome step trips back and forth beside the spinning-wheel ; She does not lean against a harp and idly sweep its strings, Or fold her hands with languid grace and look upon her rings. She bakes — she weaves — and any day spins her half-dozen skeins, Yet has no skill with Berlin wool, and operatic strains ; And she can sand the parlor floor, and make the fire burn bright; And have it ready when her beau comes sparking Sunday night ! BELLES AND BEAUX. 4 I She does not know the Kensington, that stitch that's so admired, She does not paint on porcelain, and send it to be fired. She never tints a floral wreath on parasol or fan, She does not know what furniture was fashioned for Queen Ann. No costly art doth minister to her ^Esthetic taste, Yet she can piece a patchwork quilt, and save each scrap from waste ; While quilting this she's very apt to ask her friends to tea, And merry voices, busy hands proclaim the quilt- ine-bee. PZxultant youth ! Thou conqueror that wins new hopes each day ! (3h, how the hours shall mourn for thee when thou hast passed away ! 42 BELLES AND BEAUX. For thou art richer in thy dreams than mines of wealth untold, A thousand simple joys are thine that are not bought with gold. Lo, the red berries thou hast plucked are brighter to thy gaze Than priceless rubies shall appear to those of later days. Thy favorite casement, though it wears no curtain but the vine, Makes mem'ry 'neath silk canopies for olden sun- sets pine. The Belles and Beaux ! Right pleasant are the places where they meet ; Within their presence lies a charm that makes remembrance sweet ; We catch the smile, the bantering word, and laughter's happy tone. Their high anticipations seem around our spirit thrown. BELLES AND BEAUX. 43 Tlieir ardent friendships and their loves our sym- patliies engage ; Their thoughtless gayety that mocks at dull and plodding age ; And yet. alas ! as years shall pass, Time, in the common way, Shall wiite his wrinkles on each brow, and change the locks to gray! The youthful friends that met so oft, have grown estranged and cold, Or else from widely-separate homes they'll cor- respondence hold ; Enraptured lovers settle down to sober married life. And their "My dear" thrills not the ear of hus- band or of wife. The wild and reckless youth at length has all his " wild oats " sown, And as the most respectable of business men is known. 44 HELLKS and REAliX. Or else he holds a dark career, till friends sliall turn a\\a)\ And speak his name reluctant!)', as one who's eone astraw The Beau who broke so many hearts has crow's feet round his e^'es. And she wiio wiin him from the rest in marria^^e oained no prize; The killing" glances of the Helle her spectacles con- ceal. Perchance upon her ruby lips Death long hath set Ills seal. When we recall those b\-gone scenes, how often is it said. '* How man}' of my early friends are numbered with the dead !" And as the olden clax's come back "neath Memor\''s control. Like Ossian's visions the\' are sweet. \"et mournful to the soul I VENUS AND VULCAN. 45 VENUS AND VULCAN. IT was the marvel of my carh' dreams That Venus unto Vulcan should be ^iven. The goddess rises from her couch of foam With charms transcendent, and in magic zone, She floats along, by rosy zephyrs borne, The Queen of Love and Beauty. She is won, Whom all the gods were eager to adore, l-5y Vulcan of the grim and forceful forge. An uncongenial union, once methought. And sadly from the fable turned away ; And yet how deeply is its meaning graved Upon the frontal of the actual world. Beauty allied with Strength, thus should it be. Behold the mountain on its rugged throne \n its unshaken majesty and pride. Frowning, in sterile steeps, upon the vale : 46 VENUS AND VULCAN. Lo, Beauty comes embracing it with bloom. And rocks, as erst herself in tinted shell. The dark, old evergreens upon its heights. The stars are beaming from their azure home. As when the Chaldean's prophecies they wore. Armored in strength they rest their golden shields Against the massy battlements of heaven, And look on Time, who folds his blighting hand Before their beauty. Midnight walks the earth : Her dusky sandal gives no echo forth. Yet potent is her presence, strong her spells, Unstayed her footstep, as the conqueror's car In flush of triumph, as the rushing tide. The viewless winds: Another glides along Her silent sombre hours, and weaves their woof With sweet forgetfulness and bright-hued dreams. With swift, strong pinions sweeping o'er their realm, From the full fountains of the universe Where they have drank of melody, they come. The sister spirits, Music, Poesy ; Still in their prime as when they first rejoiced. And with the morning stars together sung ; VENUS AM) VULCAN. 47 And still their presence o'er the human heart, Steals thrillingly as erst in Eden bowers. Speed on, speed on, in radianc}' and power, Ye glorious angels, Music, Poesy ; See Knowledge watch by his illumined shrine. Reading with reverent, never-failing eye The mysteries of Creation. Titan-like, He grasps the mountains, scans the darkling mine, Follows the planets through the trackless air. And measures with infinity his thought ; While on his brow, immutable, there sits Benignant beauty. Never faileth Love, Though Pestilence, and Penury, and Scorn, And all the myriad ills of life assail ; She lifts her lamp with purer, stronger beams. Above the gathering gloom, and goeth on. Smiling at her own tenderness and power ; Beautiful alike when shrined at home. And in the fireside's lustre counting o'er The joys and cares of many a tranquil year. Or when she dwelleth 'neath the roof of kings, And in the dimming atmosphere of courts, 48 VENUS AND VULCAX. Weareth her garlands in their native bloom. There sweepeth by a silent, shadowy train ; It is the march of hours. The phantom hand Of Sorrow waveth toward their sepulchre ; Young Hope lists to their footfall with a smile ; While Joy with siren voice would bid them stay ; In vain, nor pause, nor haste, their pathway knows ; Silent, and stern, and strong, they keep their course; Yet robed in sunshine, shrouded deep in gloom. Still do they pass in beauty. Go and view The heavy centuries since Earth was young. Behold like waves the nations rise and fall. Go to the cities on the desert's lap. In desolation's long and dreamless sleep; Scan well the Past, and of the Future dream. Read as thou canst the mysteries of Time, And write sublimest beauty on the -hours. Ay, Strength and Beauty crystal pillars are Upholding fair Creation. Chaos dim Smiled when she saw them rising from her realm. So glorious they from Architect divine. Ay, Strength and Beauty, fitly do ye blend. VENUS AND VULCAN. 49 As do the rugged oak and graceful vine, As does the rainbow o'er the storm-cloud bent ; And thought on swift-winged errand stealeth back. Beneath the ivied portals of the Past, Unto your bridal. Lo, Olympus dawns I Lo, Vulcan and his peerless, sea-born bride! 50 HEAVENLY MANSIONS. HEAVENLY MANSIONS. THOSE mansions rest, How glorious, in Heaven's unfailing light I With joys immortal inlinitely blest, With beaut}' and perfection ever bright ! How fair they beam O'er all the pageantries of human pride, O'er all earth's pleasures, transient as a dream, Those dazzling courts where angel footsteps glide I This storm-swept vale Weareth the ivy garlands of decay, Ever some care or grief its homes assail, There falls a shadow for each earthly ray. HKAVENIA' MANSIONS. 5 1 There is no blight Upon the mansions of that better land, For formed within the Father's realm of light, How radiant thev arose at his command ! We know His power. So far as mortal mind ma\- comprehend ; The farthest star-beam, and the humblest flower, Alike proclaim His glory without end ! Beauty He lent To gladden e'en the fading shores of Time ; How lavishl}' its treasures must be spent Amid the bloom of the Eternal clime ! Shall there not dwell Within that clime, some likeness of this sphere? Shall not the scenes that we have loved so well. In brighter hues and balmier airs appear? 52 HEAVENLY MANSIONS. The fountain's mirth. The grace and melody of vernal bowers, The flowery banks, the sunlit skies of earth. Shall thev be mirrored in immortal hours? As star from star Doth differ in the constellation's light. So haply, unto spirits varying far. Shall beam those many mansions of delight Oh, heavenly home ! Before thy gates the warring passions cease, No dark distrust, no rankling thought shall come Within thy paths of purity and peace. The hopes and dreams That dawned with morning radiance o'er the heart. And left it sighing for their mocking gleams, Mav wake anew, and never more depart. HEAVENLY MANSIONS. 53 Death's reign is o'er, His sceptre perished with the robes of clay; The soul hath flown to those gone on before. And Love shines forth with ev^erlasting ray ! Oh, happy band ! Breathing glad welcome in those mansions fair ; How brightly the home circles shall expand, When all the spirit throng are gathered there ! What hymnings sweet, Wafted by angel hosts around the Throne, Shall fill that house where knowledge is complete, And all God's loviner mercies shall be known ! 54 A HOME SONG. A HOME SONG. WE are but few around the hearth, But when we gather there For all the world's alluring scenes We've little thought or care. There are proud halls and festive throngs For such how many sigh ! Give us the simple joys of home, And let the years go by. We are but few around the hearth. Together let us cling ; For our affection cannot fail, Whatever Time may bring. Though summer friends should turn away And sorrows hover nigh, Oh, we will cheer each other still, Until the clouds pass by. A HOME SON(;. 55 We are but few around the hearth, It is our earnest prayer That the destroyer of earth's ties Our circle still may spare. What joy each kindly face to see, Each well-known voice to greet, Kind heaven a few more blessed years Around our hearth to meet! 56 A iMIRTlllUl, BOOK. I A MIRTHFUL BOOK. HAVE a pleasant friend who lent to me a funny book ;'" Oh any one is sure to laugh that o'er its leaves doth look. This book is like a merry child when scampering o'er the floor ; Or like a kitten frolicking, and rolling o'er and o'er. This book is like the fountain's rush, all sparkle, and all spray, And gravity, before it lost, goes eddying away. One read it and almost forgot the sorrows Life doth wear : One read it and grew insolent unto His High- ness, Care ; *" Out of the Hurlyburly," by Max Adler. A MIRTHFUL HOOK. 57 One read it, and forgot to sigh and worry over work ; (3ne read it and was very sure, awhile to play the shirk. One read and grew oblivious of either friend or foe ; One read, and grinned, until the face was one perpetual glow! Thousands of wise and solemn books the world doth ponder o'er, New volumes, published every year, are added to this store, Hut 1 can on my fingers count the books Old Fun has made, I wish Old Fun was more inclined to learn the author's trade. 'Tis very well from science and from poesy to quaff ; And yet I dearly love the book that gives a hearty lau'di. 58 WIxNTEK. WINTER. THE landscape lies in deep repose. The deep repose of Death ; All cold and pale, in icy mail, 'Neath Winter's blighting breath, The skies, a\', Summer's smiling skies, Are dark, and chill, and drear ; And streamlets keep their sluggish sleep As waxeth old the year. Where are the flowers, the fragrant flowers? Gems of the wood and wold ; They passed away in bright decay From Autumn's wreath of gold : Where are the leaves, the clustering leaves, That clothed the graceful bough ? Whirled to and fro, they're scattered low, And trees are wailinu" now. WINTER. 59 The Wild Wind from his northern home Doth pour his fitful song ; O'er the snow-waste, with phantom haste, He sobs and shrieks along; His sleety arrows, swift and sure, Speed o'er the whitened fields; His voice rings out like warrior's shout Mid clash of brazen shields! Oh, Winter! stern and dread art thou Where Poverty doth dwell ; Wilt ne'er unclasp thy palsy grasp W^ithin the fireless cell ? While thou dost spread the scanty board, And chill the pallid cheek. Though kind thv rei^jn o'er Wealth's domain. Who would thy praises speak ? For this, oh Winter, we'll rejoice To see thee exiled go ; Led forth by Spring a blind old king, W' ith wandering step and slow ; 6o WINTER. Antigone sad GEdipus, Guides forth with filial care; So shall the Spring around thee cling, Thy daughter young and fair. THE BLUE VIOLET. 6l THE BLUE VIOLET. OH, rare, sweet Violet, The loveliest gem e'er set In sunshine's burnished gold ! The poetry, the grace, Within thy modest face, Can ne'er be fitly told. Oh, regal is the Rose, For Love about her throws, And prospered Hopes their calm ; How smiles she in her pride, As of joy's fullest tide, She speaks with breath of balm. But thou, dear Violet, Hast seen thy best star set In sadness and despair. Within thy golden heart, Some love is thrown apart, Blighted — yet once most fair. 62 THE BLLFE VIOLET. To wood and wayside cling, Thou blue-eyed waif of Sprinc^, And woo us from our care; Thou art almost too sweet To crouch thee at our feet. And breathe but common air. Enchanting- as romance. For aye the world entrance. By meads and mossy streams. Still bring to Childhood's eyes (jjimpses of Paradise, In vague, delicious dreams. The Poet who shall yet Shrine best the Violet, Her modest worth, His lyre away may fling, And walk w^ith those that sing Most sweetly upon earth. THE MIDNIGHT LAMP. 6 THE MIDNIGHT LAMP. BURN on 1 burn on I thou lonely flame, Within the midnight's dim profound ; For spirits of immortal name, Forth from the past are thronging round ! They come with hushed and solemn tread, They come with thoughts serene and high. Come where thy sober rays are shed, And wake the dreams of years gone by. The v^otaries of science bend A toil-worn brow beneath thy beams, Until their minds a radiance lend Which blesses all where'er it gleams. Like beacons are they, o'er the waves. To light the mariner to morn ; Their memory rises from their graves, In hearts of after-aues worn. 64 THE MIDNKJHT LAMP. And poets gather 'neath thy rays, A glorious and impassioned throng ; And in their proud, unfading bays, They wake again the lofty song. "The bard of midnight and of tears,"* And he of Ayrshire's humble home, And others, from Misfortune's years. Come forth with bards from princely dome. A wearied artist sinks to rest, Forgetting penury and care; And yet his drear\' cell is blest, Behold the speaking canvas there ! A statue smiles from out the gloom, A dream wrought from yon pallid brow ; Steal soft, thou lamp-light, through the room. Break not his sleeping visions now ! *Henry Kirk White. THE MIDNIGHT LAMl'. 65 Ah, they who burn the midnight oil Upon the dazzHng shrine of Fame, Are Hke the lamp that lights their toil — Life wastes in mind's intenser flame. Though life may be the sacrifice. Though want and misery darkly frown, Still must their rugged pathway rise. Still must they grasp the victor's crown. Not as the lamps of festive halls Which gleam in splendor o'er the gay, While Pleasure spreads her siren thralls. Art thou, the Lamp of sober ray. Thou art where Meditation reigns, With many a mind of mighty mold ; And Genius in thy presence deigns Divinest treasures to unfold. 66 THE Ol.l) MAN. T THE OLD MAN. HE old lion is sick, and he lies in his lair. At his home stays the old man a\ ith silver- white hair. The old lion was once of the desert a king; There was might in his voice; there was might in his spring.- The old man was once young and hardy and bold ; His voice gained attention ; his strength won him gold. (3nce the tawny old lion, with stealthiest tread. Secured spoil abundant, and amply he fed, rHK OLD MAX. 67 Now his eye is aweary, his muscles are slack, And an hour's creeping on when a meal he shall lack. Ah, once the old man for preferment and place, For all winnings, could keep with his fellows apace. From Life's fierce arenas, where young hearts aspire. And sfrcv/^i^ nerves are tried, the old man must retire. Now he lives like a bee on his summer-saved hoard, (3r, dependent sits down at another man's board. Let the old lion die in his jungle alone. Neglect cannot grieve him. His heart is of stone. Rut, be kind to the old man, and gentle words speak, Lest the bitter tears fall down his furrowed old cheek ! 68 AT REST. AT REST. OLD Mrs. Blank went away last night, \\ ent away when the storm was abroad in its might ; Went away, though her footsteps were feeble and slow, And you'll ask why at such time her friends let her go. She has left the old room where so long she has staid — See, on her worn prayer-book her spectacles laid ; Well or ill, they have served her for many a year — Now she's cast them aside — for her vision is clear I How much at yon window her needle she plied ; To renew her worn raiment she earnestly tried. Now, patching and darning, and saving each shred. Shall trouble no longer her wear)- old head. AT REST. 69 Vul lier work-basket b\-. it has patchwork begun I'or fingers whose tasks are forevermore done. Put away the gray stocking, half knit, A\'ith its ball. Vov her Life's thread has now raveled out at Death's call. Oft at evening, with head drooped as if in a doze, What scenes on her memor\- brighth' arose, Of the home of her childhood — its valleys and hills— Where. her steps bounded light as the glad-singing rills. She was loneh" in evenings — the twilights were drear ; She dreaded the Winter; the Spring did not cheer. She was lonely in Summer — the days were so long. And more loneh- to listen the Fall cricket's song. Old Mrs. Blank had no home of her own, Of her nearest of kindred bereft, and alone, •JO AT REST. Dependent and feeble, and shrouded in L,doom, Oh, is it not well that she left the old room ? The years are accomplished in which there was set For her loved and her lost ones a constant regret. Her words are all spoken ; her sighs are all spent. And her tears are all vanished in perfect content. Though humble her lot in this valley of Time, Now she's crowned with a majesty strange and sublime. She has joined that procession which Faith ever sings As grander than those that Earth gives to her kings. Old Mrs. Blank went away in the storm, But its tumult ne'er troubled her feeble old form ; For her earth brow is wreathed with the lilies of rest, And her spirit has flown to the land of the blest I THE DEATH OF THE PRINCE ]MPERL\L. yl THE DEATH OE THE PRINCE IMPERIAL. BORN in a palace of ancient renown, There waits for his wearing Algeria's crown ; There were cannon to mark with their volleys the day, There were courtiers assembled all homage to pa\-. Rare robes and rare laces enwrapped him like fate, The Darling- of France, Prince of proudest estate. To those grand old saloons of historic fame, What crowds of high fashion and luxur\' came ; What gildings and mirrors and tapestries traced With armorial signs, the proud Tuileries graced. So prospered and blest the Imperial pair. Who could dream that Misfortune held aught for their heir. J2 THE DEATH DE THE PRTNCn^' IMPERIAL. The world knows the story, and all its reverse, Captive, fug-itive, exiles. We need not rehearse. Eugenie, the lovely, strews flowers on a tomb. And the Bonaparte Eagles are shrouded in gloom. Vet, the young Louis lives. On his throne ma\" find place, For what may not come to his name and his race ! Time passes. A warfare has fiercely begun On the coast which lies under the South Afric sun. The Zulus are tigers that spring from their lair. And England's best chivalry grapples them there ! For the Land that erst gave him a refuge and home. Arrayed for her battles, a brave Prince has come. Oh, most direful ambush on that grassy plain ! Assegaied, again, and again, he lies slain I A placid look rests on the face fallen down. He wears not his earthly, but heavenly crown. THE DEATH OF THE PRINCE IMl'ERIAI.. 73 How false is the promise that smiled on his birth 1 He lies but as common clay stark on the earth. O mysterious Fate ! thy measures are strange ; Like the sands that are shifting forever in change. The throne and the palace like mirage may fail, And imperial names be like straws on a gale. Oft fall, like Thor's hammer, events of the time. Yet there runs through all changes a purpose sublime. 74 THE BEECHEN WOODS. THE BEECHEN WOODS. HOW pleasant, Jennie, ^\■as the vale Where passed the summer hours And pleasant was the mountain side, Of spruce and pine its bo^\•ers. But fairest were the beechen woods. The dearest haunt of all ; And wandering there we often saw The evenine shadows fall. How blithely swept from off the hill. Unto the sunn}' trees, Fraught with their balm\' whispering. The winglets of the breeze ; THE BEECIIEN WOODS. 75 The hill had bloomy, tangled weeds. Instead of golden grain : And often was it hurried o'er, The beechen woods to gain. How lovely were the beechen woods, In all their leaf}- pride : When first we saw^ their vistas spread The lonely road beside ; A silver streamlet wandered there, With swift and chiming feet ; And when we heard its happy song. Were not the moments sweet? Do you remember, Jennie dear, That mossy rock and gray? The boughs droop o'er it, and below The laughing waters play : Do you recall the legends old We oft repeated there ? The poesy whose words were breathed Upon the silent air? 76 THE BEECHEN WOODS. Or how, beneath the sumach hedge. We dreamed away the hours ? There, just across the lonely road. We saw the beechen bowers ; We rested by the olden wall, Upon the turfy ground ; And heard the voice of fantasy. For silence was around. We dreamed, so fair, so sylvan were The features of the place, That fauns and dryads haunted it, And gave to it its grace ; We sa\\- them slyly peeping forth From out the green arcades. As fancy reared their ancient realm Upon those sunny glades. So like the scenes that old romance Gives fondly to its page ; So much her glowing visions seemed The greenwood's heritage ; THE BEECHEN WOODS. 'J'J We thought, from out the boughs, to see Some red-cloaked gipsey stand, To read our future destinies From off the gold-crossed hand. Ah, Jennie, all those visions fled From out the beechen bowers. They'll haunt no more the pleasant shade, To wing the lightsome hours; They fled before our parting glance. As silently we stood. And watched the sunlight fading from The tresses of the wood. And since hath autumn dimmed the leaf, And sighed in every breeze; And winter hangs his icy chains Upon the cheerless trees; We look upon the beechen woods, No blighting do they wear ; We see them still, and evermore As when we wandered there. 78 THE BEECHEN WOODS. YEARS AFTER. Hangs on the wall a wreath of green Within a golden frame, And mossy letters 'mid this wreath Do spell a simple name ; The moss grew in those dear, old woods Where we so often strayed ; The letters, now in faded green. By Jennie's hand were made. These letters spell, " The Beechen WOODS,' And sunny scenes recall ; They 'mind me of a summer past, While hanging on the wall ; They 'mind me of the daisied fields, The rocks, and upland climb ; They 'mind me of the mountain brooks, Smooth-flowing as a rhyme. THE BEECHEN WOODS. 79 My cousin Jennie! long it seems Since she has passed from earth ! I have no words to fitly speak Her excellence and worth. The brilliant mind, the genial word, The bright and laughing eye; O, how these cheered the happy hour, When Jennie, dear, was nigh. I dream of many a pleasant scene Where we together walked ; I dream of pleasant afternoons When we together talked ; I rove with her in that fair land Where mountain mists uprolled Before the coming of the sun Whose spears were tipped with gold. O, Jennie, dear, in Heaven's fair land Dost thou not wait for me? Through all earth's many changing scenes, I still remember thee. 8o THE BEECHEN WOODS. Shall we not meet in some bright morn. Whose mists have rolled away, And still together, as of old, Through flower}^ vistas stray? A CUP OF TEA. 8l A CUP OF TEA. '■ The cup that cheers but not inebriates." IN the " Flowery Kingdom," far over the sea, Lives the " Heathen Chinee " for the culture of tea ; Thus giving much comfort to you and to me. Souchong, or Oolong, or whatever it be, Give generous praise to the Cup of Tea. In the past, when the Viking held a rout In the wassailing hall with song and shout. They drank rich mead till the draught gave out. Such draught inspired demoniac glee. So we'll rest content with a Cup of Tea. Let the Bacchanal chant his laud of wine, And the Thyrsus bound by its ivy twine. Yet still, where the sweet home graces shine, Souchong, or Oolong, or whatever it be, One is best regaled by a Cup of Tea. 82 A CUP OF TEA. Why, even our Goddess of Liberty Sprang, V^enus-like, from a Cup of Tea ! Steeped in that Boston harbor, you see ! By the Stars and Stripes that float o'er the Free, Give infinite praise to that Cup of Tea ! In this age of much progress, with Mind on the wing, And the nerves on the strain hke the time- keeper's spring, Refreshment, a health-giving Hebe doth bring; Souchong, or Oolong, or whatever it be. In that amber-hued nectar — a Cup of Tea. The old Dame that's working too hard for her years. Stays her trembling hand, and oft-times her tears, With " The cup that inebriates not, and yet cheers." Souchong or Oolong, or whatever it be. She'll bless her consoler — a good Cup of Tea. A CUP OF TEA. 83 " When the kettle sings songs full of innocent glee," In the home of some maiden or " Widow Machree," And the suitor's invited to come and take tea, Souchong or Oolong, or whatever it be. The best social cheer is a Cup of good Tea. Lotus eaters, who dwell in their islands of balm. Where the summer deserts not the towering palm. Find not in the lotus so blissful a calm. Souchong, or Oolong, or whatever it be. As that graciously lent to the Drinker of Tea. When tea from the urn of chased silver is poured. And the sweetmeats are brought out from where they are stored. And a dozen dear, female friends meet round the board. Souchong, or Oolong, or whatever it be. Their chit-chat, so spicy, is half due to thee! 84 A CUP OF TEA. Sancho Panza, whose name let kind memories keep, Blest the man who first sought the invention of sleep, But let us bless the man who first thought tea to steep. And now, my dear reader, where'er you may be, I'll go drink your health in a Cup of strong Tea. A CUP OF COFFEE. 85 A CUP OF COFFEE. OTHE brown berry let us praise 5 Where e'er its juice is quaffed ; Millions of people in all climes, Find comfort in its draught. The ancient monks who found its worth- Found not a whit too soon — Thus gave the toiling ones of earth A very precious boon. It Cometh from that Eastern land Whence so much richness flows, The land of spices, and of silks, And attar of the rose. 86 A CUP OF COFFEE. There is no doubt, if rightly used. It doth the nerves sustain ; It helps the mind, and calls it forth Its greatest powers to gain. O, bring the egg-shell, China cup. With decoration fine, And fill it with the amber draught That's better far than wine. TO-MORROW. 87 TO-MORROW, YOUTH does not pause amid her lavish pleasures To plead with Time, that spendthrift, for her treasures ; She looks where Hope, the siren is beguiling, And up Life's rugged height she boundeth smil- ing :— " Let old Experience prate, heed not the warning, Noon Cometh but to gild the hues of morning; Onward! the pathway is with beauty beaming, And joy laughs out from every vista gleaming." Ah, dreaming Youth, w hy of the Future borrow ? Why lose the Present thinking of To-morrow ? Shall Manhood, pausing where the goal arises, Leaving Life's contests and their vaunted prizes, Look down the vale where Memory's lamp is burning? Or mourn the passing years as unreturning? 88 TO-MORROW. No, no — " press on !" Ambition still is crying, "The Autumn sheaves are on the upland lying; And the strong will, from each defeat up-springing. The pride, the triumph of success is bringing !" Aspiring heart I why of the Future borrow? Fond Hope is thine, but oh, not thine To-morrow\ Age well may pause, so briefly here abiding, Seeing- the years to their calm haven gliding, Pause and look back where the dim Past is lying ; But Youth's fair dreams to his chill glance are sighing : Gone is Ambition now, a worn-out story; Gone are those loved ones that gave Earth its glory ; Hope smiles no more her faded garlands twining; But white-robed Faith appears, her star-brow shin- ing ! And soaring on, beyond each earthly sorrow, She gives a promise of a blest To-morrow I CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 89 CHARLOTTE BRONTE. THAT hamlet, Haworth; on a moorland hill, Where Winter, as the bigot's brow is chill, Doth suddenly become a place of note, Here " Currer Bell " her matchless novels wrote. A perfect gem her every sentence shines ; Did Addison e'er pen more polished lines? She had the art — some authors do not own — To write but that to Jicr experience known, And breathe the thoughts to her the most intense — She hath rich fancy, and good common sense. Her realism quite transends all praise. One lives at " Thornfield Hall," oh, many days! And roams its gardens, tipped with sunset's fire. And smells its southern-wood, and its sweet-briar. This writer plods not, though her books are strong, Through myriad pages, and through chapters long ; Clearness, conciseness, e'er her page displays. With a strange charm, like Autumn's splendid days. We read her volumes all, and o'er and o'er, And at each reading like them more and more. go THE WAX FIGUR?: IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. THE WAX FIGURE IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. AH, lady fair, at fashion's shrine thou ke( est well thv place! I. ,'ep- thy pk A goddess standing in thy niche with never-chang- ing face ! Sure, the Olympian deities, holding their ancient sway. Had not such faithful worshipers as fashion finds to-day. So here, thou idol, lamps shall burn bright as an altar flame ; And from the crowds that pass thee by full hom- age may'st thou claim. Puppet, put on thy sov'reignty, and rule Earth's v^aried scene, Thou hast as much the " right di\ine," as any sceptered queen ! THE WAX FIGURE IN A BR(^ADWAY WINDOW. 9] II. '' Myself and toilet please me well," says the com- placent smile. Ah, pretty doll! dost meditate upon the latest style? Thus thousands of thy sister dolls, who boast of breathing clay, Will lavish all their thought and time on sump- tuous array. Such lovely silks, such loves of hats, such gems so richly set, And lace that looks as if frost flowers were traced along its net ; Ribbons so beautiful, and wreaths by some French Flora twined, Are themes they study — taste in dress, they think, proves one refined. III. Display thy hand, so lily white. It hath no need to toil ; Though for our comforts, luxuries, some hardened palm must moil. 92 THE WAX FIGURE IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. Thy pearl)' fingers idly droop, like petals of a flow'r ; Thou'st no device to pass the time, nor task for an\' hour. Yet there are hands of muscle framed, veined with life's throbbing tide. That are almost inert as thine, through Indolence and Pride ; Just doing Jiothing gracefully, and wearing silken gear. Defines that term, "a Lady," and flatters many an ear. IV. ThoH art a lady ! and th\" name — if so thou hadst a name — Might proudly on some 'scutcheon rest, voiced by obsequious Fame ; Thou'rt of the race of belted knights ,and dames of high degree ; And other drones of great descent, wherever thev mav be ! THE WAX FIGURE IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. 93 Such deem themselves of finer mould than churls of common clay ; Then vaunt thee o'er such vaunting dust — thou'rt finer e'en than they ! And need'st ignore no relative who, at the forge or plow, Earns at God's price his honest bread — that price his sweating brow! V. What if those pallid images from the dull quarry wrought, The fair impersonations of the sculptor's highest thought, Should suddenly awake to life at some Pygmalion's pray'r ! How would they, mid Earth's joys and woes, their mortal bondage wear ? And how, if by such miracle as classic fables show — The constant rose tint of thy cheek changed to life's fitful elow — 94 THE WAX FIGURE IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. How would'st thou spend existence then ? What character for thee ? Ah, Fashion's brightest butterfly most surely thou would'st be ! yi. Thou as a belle wouldst reign — thy charms should brainless fops enthrall, Within the dazzling drawing-room, at opera and ball ; Society would mould thy heart, the mirror would thy face, Thou would'st not e'en an eyelid lift, without a studied grace. Thy lip would have a scornful curve, thy head a haughty fling, Some foreign phrases thou shouldst speak, and some Italian sing ; Through Europe trav'ling thou perchance, as Csesar conquering came, Would'st wed some Count — for Yankee gold can buy a titled name ! THE WAX FIGURK IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. 95 VII. Fair semblance, thou requirest not, to make thee look more fair, The toilets aids — complexion pure as thine demands no care ; No slyly-used pearl powder, and no rouge for cheek or lip. In ban oline nor hair-gloss thou wilt ne'er thy tresses dip. Thy dainty waist is ready-made in Fashion's hour- glass shape, And shall the cruel torturing of " whalebone bond- age " 'scape. Such waists are — thanks to Fashion plates — admired throughout the land, Though they blaspheme that perfect form which our Creator plann'd ! VIII. A handsome face, like thine, is e'er the poet's favorite theme ; A snowy brow with silken locks, and eyes with starry gleam. 96 THE WAX FIGURE IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. And ruby lips, are just the words that lyrics link to praise^;- To cancel these with vandal pen would spoil the lovers' lays. And yet how poor is Beauty, how inane its fairest face, Without the glow of intellect, without the spirit's grace ! Let those blind worshipers who deem mere love- liness divine. Come pay their flatteries to thee — and see their chosen shrine ! IX. One shining excellence of thine should emulated be: Thou art not prone to senseless prate, or stinging repartee ; Let woman's haters now unsay all they have said or sung. For here ! she can a secret keep — and she can hold her tong-ue ! THE WAX FIGURE IN A BROADWAY WINDOW. 97 And thou shalt ne'er luax old, nor sigh for vanished days^ — in sooth, These mortals mourn who- vainly sought the fabled Fount of Youth — - The failing eye, the furrowed brow, the hair with silver gleams, And, most of all, the fading out of Youth's gay- colored dreams ! X. Thou mocker of the human heart, that's thrilled with hope and fear ! For thou hast no illusive thought, and thou canst shed no tear ; Thou'rt armored in unconsciousness, as hosts in mailed pride ; For all the many ills of life thou singly hast defied. The cares and the anxieties that half our pleasures balk, The grimmest spectres ever seen that e'en at noon- tide walk. 98 TllK WAX FIGURE I\ A BROADWAV WINDOW. And poverty that from our hearth glowers at us hke a foe — These, favored by Lethean sleep — these thou shalt nexer know. XI. Xe'er trembled on those placid Hps Love's wild and anguished prayer, As gathered round the household band misfortune and despair; Ne'er breathed they pity's gentle tones, nor words of kindh^ cheer; Nor smiled, as some beloved voice entranced the listening ear. They ne'er the scholar's lesson conned through many a silent hour, Nor once of knowledge ever spoke as 'twere a glorious dow'r I Dull image, who would be exempt, like thee, from earthly strife. And lose the wisdom and the love immortals wrest from life ! TH?: WAX FIGURE IX A BROAinVAY \VIXl)OW. 99 XII. Thou "counterfeit presentment" of the "human face divine," Mocking the consecrated clay that is the spirit's shrine ; Mocking our perishable form, like those sad dwellers hid From dull decay, in sculptured halls, within the Pyramid. Death, the Iconoclast, shall spurn an image such as thou ; Death ever eager to unveil the angel's starry brow, And lead unto eternal joys I He prompts a Dante's cry^ — When foe and fortune frowns- — "Ye cannot doom me not to die!" iOO THANKSGIVriNTG OF THE IKOOUOIS. THANKSGIVING OF THE IROQUOIS. ALL hail ! thou ancient, mother earth. To thee our thanks be paid; Th(ni beamest with benignant smiles. In loveliness arrayed; Thou givest with sustaining care Forth from thy lavish store ; Grant that returning seasons find Thy bounties as before. All hail ! ye bright, refreshing streams. All hail ! where'er ye glide ; Rolling along the thirsty plain With coolness on your tide, Or murmuring through the leafy dell Where shadows wave their wings. We greet you ; may the fires of Noon Drink not your living springs. THANKSGIVING OF THE IROQUOIS. lOI All hail ! ye earth-adorning herbs, A blessing" do ye bear; Bidding the demons of disease Our lives and health to spare: And with such potency endowed, Undinimed by any blight. Still ma\' )'e spring, "neath Summer airs. Along your pathway bright. z*\ll h.ail to thee ! thou graceful maize, The harvest's golden crown ; Dwell with thy sister plants in fields, And Famine ne'er shall frown. We hear the rustling of thy leaves, And know thy spirit voice. Trusting thy presence ne'er may fail, VVe greet thee and rejoice ! All hail ! ye bushes and ye trees. Still fair and undecayed ; Thanks for your fruitage-laden boughs. And for your pleasant shade. I02 THANKSGIVING OF THE IROQUOIS. Continue with a plenteous yield To bless the wants of all, As in their rich and glowing hues Your ripened treasures fall. And hail ! ye swift-careering winds That sweep the sultry skies ; The forest with her ancient oaks Is swaying where ye rise. Her slumb'rous branches thrill to hear Your murmurs deep and loud, And fleeth wildly with broad wings, The richly-crested cloud. All hail ! fair moon and tranquil stars That bless the gloomy night ; Earth greets you, as her woods and glades Rest softly in your light: Continue on our darkened vales Your radiance to bestow, As watching in those far-off homes Ye keep your fires aglow. THANKSGIVING OF THE IROQUOIS. lOj And hail to thee! resplendent sun, We love thy kindly eye, As parting back the cloud's rich folds Thou lookest from the sky: We ask in every dawn, as now, Thy burning plumes to trace; Trusting our deeds may never dim The glory of thy face. Great Spirit, in Thy boundless realm ! Attend uiito our prayer! Th\- children would return their thanks For all Thy loving care ! In Thee all goodness hath its source, On Thee all powers depend ; Guide us and grant Thy blessings still ! Great Spirit ! Father ! Friend ! I04 /ESTHETIC VERSE. ^ESTHETIC VERSE. THE poems of to-day are brief — I think they're growing sweeter — They lean more to the daily life, They're clearer, and completer. The world now sees so much to do. So wild, Ambition's hurry. That verse should be like flecks of foam Thrown off by ocean's flurry. The poem must be tersely told To suit the poet's corner. Since of unfamed, diffusive rhyme. The world is oft a scorner. Now the aesthetic craze prevails, The bard succeeds but illy Who does not learn to paint in verse The sunflower and the lily. TWO AUTHORS. 105 TWO AUTHORS. LONGFELLOW. HIS verse, as richly varying, doth expand As the great States that are his native land ; And as the organ tones that rise sublime, So doth the cadence of his lofty rhyme. Like the stained windows which old masters paint So sweetly with the cherub, or the saint, So, all his themes glow with delicious hues. And all his words are fresh as morning dews. His genius is an eagle of clear sight, Whose strong wings reach with ease the mountain height ! DICKENS. Ah, here is one most like a Summer's day. That needs must have his gladness anyway; I06 TWO AUTHORS. E'en where it dawns upon the squaHcl street, Wliere pass so many weary, wandering feet. He sees in many a one in tattered dress Such lovely traits as angels might possess; That these poor creatures in their want and woe, An- heirs of heaven, he doth most proudly show. And though he waken Pity's tears awhile, He's sure to give us, too, the laugh or smile. He proves that Vice, whatever game she plays, Must fall at last upon unlucky days. He writes through Fiction's fascinating page. Most splendid sermons that all hearts engage. The creed he teaches none may harshly scan, 'Tis love for God through sympathy for man ! THE NEWSPAPER. lO/ THE NEWSPAPER. A GUEST is waiting at the door That I rejoice to see ; Because I know he's coming here To talk awhile with me. This is an entertaining guest, He's witty, and he's wise ; I think — he sees so many things — He has a thousand eyes. A power most responsible And great, this guest doth wield. He's braver than the knight of old, Who hid behind his shield. He loveth human progress well, Oh, many a one he's taught ; And as the farmer scatters seed, He broadly scatters thought. [08 THE NEWSPAPER. He knows of all that's going on Of interest on the earth. And patiently he tells the news Beside how many ;i hearth ! In the retirement of nu' home. This friend doth bring to me The words heard in the drawing-room And brilliant coterie. He tells of many varied scenes In countries far away, He chats about the newest books. The concert and the play. How'er the day may brighth' dawn. It seemeth incomplete Whene'er this entertaining guest. This friend, I fail to meet. FOUR QUEENS. IO9 FOUR QUEENS. 1SAVV four Queens, each was adorned With a majestic crown ; And each had on a' very gay, And quaintly fashioned gown. They'd left awile the brilliant throng That hovers round a throne, To have a little quiet chat Within a boudoir lone. QUEEN OF HEARTS. " Dear Sister Sovereigns, we will leave Awhile the cares of state, And all the tiresome etiquette That doth upon us wait ; So much engaged our liege lords are In euchre or in whist. That if we take some time to talk, I think we'll not be missed." no FOUR QUEENS. QUEEN OF CLUBS. "O, very well, my Queen of Hearts, I know your social turn. You love that interchange of thought Through which ' We live and learn ;' Fair, flattering words, in sweet tones breathed, With your tastes quite agree, But I'm the Queen of Clubs, and like The stinging repartee." QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. " I like the words that scintillate As do the Northern Lights, I like the jest that flashes forth, And merriment excites ; I like the pleasant converse held Around the winter fire, I am the Queen of Diamonds, And brilliancy admire." FOUR QUEENS. Ill QUEEN OF SPADES. "You compliment, you controvert, You captivate with wit, But for my patient, plodding mind, Calm logic is more fit, Hard problems, and philosophy In all its varying shades, I must unearth, and delve amongst, For I'm the Queen of Spacies." Up from the card-room voices rise Discussing every game; >, One voice, in accents querulous, A partner seems to blame ; And loudly now an angry fist Upon the table thumps, " Sir, when in doubt with what to lead, Hoyle tells you to play trumps! 112 FOUR QUEENS. Then one Queen said, " O, listen now, We'll have to hasten back. For some one said, ' I have no Queen, I'll play instead a Jack.' " Let no one for an instant leave A throne, or rocking-chair, Because, returning, one shall find There's some usurper there ! OOING HOME. II GOING HOME. WITH garlands and banners adorning the wall, And a glow of rich lustres, how glad is the hall Where bright forms glide in that make-up the gay ball. They glide to the rhythm of rapturing sound. Floating on in the dance, through its mazes profound, Sweeping forward, then swerving, then circling around, As buoyant as billows. As light as their foam. O, some were most joyous, and bandied the jest, As genial as sunbeams, they cheered all the rest. And gave to the pageant an infinite zest ; And yet ere that pageant had palled on their sight. I 14 GOING HOME. These passed through the portal, undreading the night, With their laughter still ringing, their faces all bright, Making graceful adieus. So, these hav^e gone home. Some moved through the crowd with an anguish at heart, Which to mask with gay smiles seemed a difificult art ; And they yearned for the hour which should bid them depart. And that hour sweetly dawned, like the music's refrain. When they passed out the portal forgetting all pain, To a Haven where peace, and where joy they obtain. 'Neath a grand, starry dome. All these have gone home ! Some bend on the scene a gaze cynical, cold, As one lists to a story that oft has been told, GOING HOME. II5 Or as if all earth's pleasures no interest hold ; And these pass out the portal, and down from its height, There falls o'er their faces a glow of delight. And they whisper loved names of those long lost to sight. Do the angels e'er roam From their far, starry home? But the hours onward speeding have brought in the morn. Whose light, howe'er pallid, puts lustres to scorn, And the dancers, grown weary, look almost forlorn. They lead the last measure, pass out at the door, And their footsteps shall never re-echo that floor; Though other feet press it, their festal is o'er With the music's last clamor They all have gone home ! This festal is earth life, nor long its hours stay. And it bringeth sad partings, that some deem for aye, Il6 GOING HOME. As they grieve for its garlands that wither away. But Faith through that portal leads on to a shore Where life finds a festal that never is o'er, And each joy we have hoped for is better and more. O, this angel-filled dome Is indeed a blest home ! A Home that robs Death of its terror and frown — Here the soul, beggar-like, may abjectly sink down ; There 'tis " born in the purple," and puts on its crown ! Here our homes, where Affection we fondly enthrone, Are but faint types of those where God's love is best known. Whence He calls to earth's dwellers, " Come nearer my own ! " 'Neath a grand, starry dome, Unto Him we