LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 il^p ittjt^ng]^ !f n, 
 
 ijtS"/ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
POEMS 
 
 L. Belle Van Nada 
 
 WITH PREFACE. 
 
 'Tis said that "Poetry, no doubt, 
 
 Is the natural language of the soul." 
 If this be true, then we shall sing, 
 
 In measured strains, beyond the goal. 
 Most beauteous songs of love. 
 
 Songs of love forever more, 
 I'pon the golden margins 
 
 Of life's eternal shore. 
 
 -L. B. V. 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 
 INDIAN^APOLIS : 
 CAKLON & HOLLENBECK, PRINTERS AND BINDERS. 
 
 1881. 
 
 nr- 
 
?s 
 
 
 Y'i^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 L. Belle Van Nada. 
 1881. 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 TO MY DEAR FATHER, 
 
 GEORGE S. VAN NADA, 
 
 FOR HIS CONSTANT CARE AND^ THOUGHTFULKESS IN 
 
 TRYING TO EDUCATE j\iE; FOR THE NUMBERLESS FAVORS 
 
 HE HAS LOVINGLY BESTOWED ON ME FROM 
 
 INFANCY TO WOMANHOOD. 
 
 What years of toil an<l watch iiig, 
 
 What lovhig care and kindness 
 Doth a patient father give us: 
 
 Alas! how oft' we in our blindness 
 Fail to appreciate the countless deeds of love, 
 
 Daily adding care and sorrow 
 To. the heart already^ull. 
 
 Full to breaking with its sorrow. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In presenting this volume of poems to you, my friends, we 
 ardently hope that the time you spend conning its measured 
 Images, may be considered by you as time pleasantly and prof- 
 itably spent, and that you may never have reason to regret 
 having thus spent a few precious moments, feeling that yoii 
 liave gained something thereby. 
 
 We have tried to collect, classify, arrange and clothe our 
 thoughts in the very best manner possible. "We have striven 
 •ever to pen them down, so as to make them interesting and 
 instructive, and at the same time have them flow on in an 
 even, easy, rhythmical tone. 
 
 This, we must own, has been a task of no ordinary magni- 
 tude. 
 
 Days, months and years must pass away ere we gather data 
 sufficient to write even an ordinary original prose composi- 
 tion ; still we must go on like the immortal Newton, gather- 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 ing a few pearls here and there, with the great ocean of truth 
 all before us, wreathe them into a measured flow, and then, 
 like the sainted Milton and Homer, sing a song, peculiar to 
 ourselves, ere we attempt to ofter to others what we have 
 toiled for years to gather. Although we have done our best 
 to gather the choicest gems, according to our own imagin- 
 ings, that have lain within the narrow confines of our own 
 walks upon the immeasurable pebbled strand of literature, 
 and have strung them together, combining their colors as we 
 thought they would best appear, still we feel a sense of un- 
 worthiness in the attempt, and it is with fear and trembling 
 we offer them. 
 
 May critics in scanning these pages, in all kindness cherish 
 the beauties, if any they see, and pass the faults; may they 
 only momentarily halt, as they stop to note them, as they 
 may somewhat jar, then pass on in a measured flow, and 
 mark the morals, in the Christian faith we have tried to por- 
 tray. Yours very truly, 
 
 L. Belle Van Nada. 
 
INDHX TO POEMS. 
 
 Gypsy Nona 1 
 
 The Midnisht Watch of Cohimbus 24 
 
 Among the Stars 34 
 
 The World Once More is Demanding Room. 47 
 
 A Legend of the Mississippi 69 
 
 In Memoriam — Line.s to the Memory of My Mother 8.i 
 
 In Memqriam— Lines to the Memory of Clara A. Dunn 88 
 
 Listening and Watehing 90 
 
 In Memoriam— Linos to the :Memory of I^resident Garfield 92 
 
 Lake Michigan ;)-, 
 
 Ode to the Winds 9S 
 
 We know not what we sliall be 99 
 
 Hope 101 
 
 Representation and Memory 103 
 
 Charity 100 
 
 Autumn Leaves 107 
 
Vlll INDEX TO POEMS, 
 
 Snow-flakes 109 
 
 Evening 112 
 
 Ode to aButterfly 115 
 
 The Culprit 117 
 
 The Seven Wonders of the World 121 
 
 The Grave of Lincoln's Mother 127 
 
 The Last of My School Days 130 
 
 Sunshine 132 
 
 Indian Athene 132 
 
POEMS. 
 
 GYPSY NONA. 
 
 inPi WEB-LIKE vale of twilight, 
 Smi^^ Softly hung o'er nature's face, 
 ^^1^^ Indian summer's robes were trimmed 
 In gauzy, white cloud lace. 
 Oft the}' were more richly trimmed 
 
 In man}?- a graceful fold, 
 Of dappled clouds of pink and brown, 
 Lined with purple, edged with gold. 
 Or in clouds of delicate blue. 
 
 When she her damask robes so bright 
 Would wear ; when evening threw 
 Her changing shades of light. 
 
 Thus the autumn time had come. 
 She w^as a gay and happy comer. 
 
 Blushing as she ushered in 
 
 The balmy, beautiful Indian summer. 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 She was radiant in her youth and beauty, 
 
 Singing almost all the day ; 
 Dancing like the graceful footed fawn, 
 
 Thro' the meadows far away. 
 
 Sometimes she lowly moaned 
 
 When the silvery murmuring rills, 
 Rippled swiftly o'er the pebbles 
 
 Down around the mossy hills. 
 With their arms so full of crimson leaves, 
 
 Chiming low their autumn song ; 
 Creeping thro' the withering flags, 
 
 Sighing as they'd dance along. 
 
 'Twas beauteous crimson autumn, 
 
 When all the world seems growing old ; 
 When waving leaves crisply fall, 
 
 To wither, dry and movild — 
 When tangled thread-like roots of trees 
 
 Under them begin to spread ; 
 As in the early spring, 
 
 When all the world seems waking from 
 th' dead; 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 When the zephyrs curl the ferns, 
 
 And the tender ivy twines 
 Around the hanging twigs 
 
 Of the cedars and the pines. 
 
 'Twas evening in a southern cHme, 
 
 Where the sweet magnolias grow 
 And bloom the fairest, w^hen twilight 
 
 Her mellowest shades there throw. 
 'Twas autumn eve, in Indian summer — 
 
 An artist was sitting very dreamy, 
 Weaving thought-wreaths on his canvas, 
 
 In the twilight soft and gleamy, 
 Stealing sweets from natvire's smiling face 
 
 Worthy of the skillful brush 
 Of the gifted artist's hand. 
 
 Painting in the evening's hush. 
 
 Behold the scene serene — • 
 
 A tall dark pine and cedar wood ; 
 
 An old stone bridge and a city. 
 
 With unnumbered lights, in the distance 
 stood ; 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Grassy lawns were on the right and left, 
 Broad highways across the rolling plain 
 
 Led to the clean streets of the city, 
 Sitting empress-like in her domain. 
 
 Nearer a cluster of white cottages. 
 
 That with th' last sunbeams were oft il- 
 lumed ; 
 Now wrapt in webby gleams of twilight, 
 
 And all the vale with sweets perfumed. 
 'Round about the village convent door 
 
 The nuns stood in the evening air, 
 Darkly robed, yet from their hoods of snowy 
 white 
 
 Shone their faces mildly fair ; 
 Like guardian angels they were watching 
 
 The children of their charge 
 Playing like white-winged doves 
 
 In the convent grounds so large. 
 
 Their priest was slowly wandering 
 
 To the grove of tall dark pine 
 To offer up his orisons 
 
 Unto the Great Divine ; 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 His tall form bent with age, 
 
 His raven locks had turned to gray ; 
 The light winds fanned them back 
 
 As they'd dance and play 
 Among the silken tassels 
 
 Of his cap and flowing robe, 
 Whereon flashed the last sunbeam 
 
 From the old cathedral's silver globe 
 Hanging 'neath its steepled cross, 
 
 Glitt'ry, dark as emerald green ; 
 From the distant city 
 
 'Twas an awe-inspiring scene. 
 
 Calmness for a moment reigned, — 
 
 Seemingly a heavenly spell, 
 Of quietude and wondrous peace. 
 
 O'er the smiling face of nature fell. 
 While the artist from the city — 
 
 Sat there in the evening breeze, 
 Painting the dark green grove, 
 
 The pine and cedar trees, 
 The mossy old stone bridge, 
 
 The hamlet and the beauteous land- 
 scape. 
 Far o'er the rolling ridge. 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Painting the rustic, scented lane, 
 
 That led away to pastures large and 
 green. 
 He mused — "This waning light. 
 
 As vailing now this gorgeous scene ; 
 To-morrow's eve, I'll finish thee, my 
 beauty." 
 Pure devotion filled his clear blue eyes, 
 As he gazed upon his canvas ; 
 
 The stars came stealing one by one into 
 the skies. 
 Oft' he courted their sweet influence, 
 
 The peerless lustre of the noble ones, 
 Orion or the Pleiades, 
 
 Arcturus and his noble sons, 
 He numbered o'er and o'er the leading 
 stars. 
 
 That among the brilliant jewels lie ; 
 The celebrated stars and groups, 
 
 That 'round Alcyone so swiftly fly. 
 
 "O, could I paint Orion's gilded rim, 
 The Great Bear on th' Pleiades, 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Could I paint th' millions in th' Milky 
 Wa3', 
 That throw their gleams among these 
 trees, 
 To play like faries, 't would break th' spell 
 
 That hangs within my painted grove" 
 
 Lo I as he mused a gyps}^ band. 
 Into the green wood wearily drove. 
 
 He saw them draw their gilded reins 
 
 To halt their foaming steeds, 
 By a clear, deep murmuring brook 
 
 Lined with flowers, flags and reeds. 
 Saw the herbage break and bend, 
 
 As o'er it heavily rolled 
 The bright rimmed wheels of th' Gvpsy cab, 
 
 Cushioned and lined with cloth of gold. 
 
 They gathered the dry, pine boughs 
 
 Within the solemn shade. 
 And soon a blazing camp-fire 
 
 In the sombre air they made — 
 Near by a cozy, snow-white tent — 
 
 Soon the rich, red flames arose 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Threw their resin sparkles in the air — 
 Lit the pine's thick under boughs. 
 
 The wanderers were th' Gypsy queen, 
 
 Her handsome daughter and her mother 
 Her gray-haired, aged father. 
 
 Two servants and one brother. 
 The favored one of th' cheerful group, 
 
 Was th' dark eyed Gypsy maid ; 
 Her raven hair loosely hung, 
 
 In a massive silken braid. 
 Her dimpled cheeks were round and full, 
 
 Her cherry lips, when parted, 
 Revealed such even, pearly teeth. 
 
 And she was tender-hearted. 
 She was enrobed in crimson velvet. 
 
 Decked with shining stars of gold. 
 That threw their 3^ellow luster 
 
 O'er jet draperies rich and old. 
 
 He saw them by their camp fire. 
 
 Sip from costly vases. 
 Contentment to the wealthy band, 
 
 Lent her charms and graces. 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 To them the world was all the same, 
 
 The pine-decked ground 
 Was all their own, 
 
 As arovmd the w'orld they moved. 
 
 As he scanned the band he mused — 
 
 "Would to this picture now so nearly- 
 done, 
 I could have added this strange scene. 
 
 This wild, romantic one. 
 Perchance the3''ll linger here 
 
 Until to-morrow's eve ; 
 Then I'll paint it o'er again, 
 
 I'll paint the Gypsies ere they leave." 
 
 While wandering to his city home. 
 
 His active thoughts were richly laden. 
 With the graceful form and sweet bronzed 
 face, 
 And the dreamy eyes of the gypsy mai- 
 den. 
 
 Wearily sitting on a grassy mound, 
 Beneath a weaving pine, 
 
lO GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Th' fire light shining in her face, 
 Tenderl}^ ciilHng a ending vine, 
 
 That hung with fragrant flowers 
 Just above her shapely head, 
 
 Her hair like magic caught 
 
 The fragrance that the flowers shed. 
 
 Many an autumn evening. 
 
 The artist from the city came. 
 To paint within the silent grove, 
 
 He grew for love and fame. 
 For all those Indian summer days 
 
 They wandered thro' the forest shade. 
 The blue-eved, handsome artist 
 
 And the dark-eyed gypsy maid. 
 
 He wooed her and he won her love, 
 
 Half trustingly and half afraid 
 At the handsome stranger's shrine — 
 
 At love's shrine her heart she laid. 
 Ofttimes at eve he sat 
 
 Listening while the gypsies told 
 Wondrous legends of the nations. 
 
 Handed down from davs of old — 
 
GYPSY NONA. H 
 
 Traditionaiy stories, that they said 
 The pious monks and EngHsh sages, 
 
 Sacredly had handed down 
 
 Mythologic stories of the middle ages. 
 
 They were versed in pagan oracles, 
 
 In Celtic and legendary lore ; 
 They told him ot' the countries. 
 
 That for years they'd traveled o'er. 
 They talked of every city, 
 
 Told of every clime ; 
 Thus with their facts and Aibles, 
 
 Swiftly sped the time. 
 
 The days were swiftly gliding. 
 
 The birds were farther flying ; 
 Farther toward the southward ; 
 
 The leaves and flowers were dying. 
 For each eve the chilling winds 
 
 Began to whisper low. 
 Among the pine and cedar trees, 
 
 The Gypsie's then prepared to go. 
 
 Manv were the sad good-bys. 
 
 The Gypsies wandered far and wide ; 
 
12 GYPSY NONA. 
 
 The picture of the camp within the grove, 
 Was the skillful artist's pride. 
 
 All those dreary winter days. 
 He worked within his studio ; 
 
 And all the spring and summer days, 
 And thro' all the autumn's glow. 
 
 He painted many a gorgeous scene. 
 
 From stories that the Gypsies told ; 
 Pictures of Italian scenery. 
 
 And the glorious lands of gold. 
 Man}^ were the handsome paintings, 
 
 That adorned his gallery walls ; 
 Many a one so represented life, 
 
 One could hear her echo calls ; 
 Seemingly could hear her echo calls, 
 
 Among the gorgeous mountam walls, 
 Where some rushing river 
 
 O'er them sweeps and falls. 
 
 So, the autumn time had come. 
 Once again the gypsies came, 
 
 To tarry in the arnple grove ; 
 
 To them the pines were just the same — 
 
GYPSY NONA. 13 
 
 To all save one, the petted Nona — 
 To her they were so very lonely. 
 
 For no more the artist came. 
 For his art he now cared only. 
 
 Long at eve she'd sit and gaze, 
 
 Far beyond the rolling plane ; 
 Thro' the purple crimson vale. 
 
 Thro' the scented, rustic lane ; 
 Longing to behold her loved one, 
 
 Who should never come again ; 
 Who should never more embrace her, 
 
 Thus she sighed and long'd in vain. 
 
 For the artist in the cit}'. 
 
 Had forgotten Gypsy Nona ; 
 Had neglected and forgotten ; 
 
 For his art he now cared only. 
 How life's fitful fancies 
 
 Wear true hearts away : 
 How the gay deceivers 
 
 With them to}^ and play. 
 
 So the shades would come, 
 Come and find her every day. 
 
l4 GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Sitting silently and lone, 
 
 Where twittering birds would play. 
 She could hear the soft low singing 
 
 Of the pallid nuns, 
 Or the sacred chantings 
 
 Of the cloistered sons. 
 
 Like funeral dirges all it seemed, 
 
 Trembling thro' the vale. 
 Dying on the evening air 
 
 So like a low death wail ; 
 Dying as the luster of her eyes. 
 
 Or the bloom upon her dimple cheek. 
 Throbbing o'er the rolling plane. 
 
 As a wounded bird's low shriek. 
 
 The rich, the poor, have each their heart- 
 aches ; 
 
 Even sadness in the palaces of kings. 
 Or in the lowly cottage of the peasant 
 
 Her dreaded outcry rings. 
 The ever restless gypsies, 
 
 Whose native origin's unknown. 
 Have their longings and their heart-aches, 
 
 Tho' they claim no country as their own. 
 
GYPSY NONA. 1 5 
 
 The twilight once again was fading, 
 The full moon gilding every leaf, 
 
 And as it rose so grandly o'er the far-off 
 hills. 
 The g3^psies bowed in solemn grief, 
 
 For the handsome daughter of the queen 
 Was tossing in delirium 
 
 On a cushioned couch upon the green. 
 
 When the stars came trooping in, 
 They whispered to her softly then : 
 " Nona, let us bear thee from the dews of 
 night" — 
 For they fell so heav}"^ in that mossy glen 
 That the leaves and flowers drooped, 
 Or, like strings of glittering gems. 
 They hung on flower and leaf 
 
 Or trickled down their slender stems. 
 
 "Yes," she faintly whispered, 
 " Take me ere I die. 
 Into the white tent b}^ the tall dark pine, 
 
 And fold the canvas high, 
 That I may watch the mystic stars — 
 That I may watch them roll and shine 
 
l6 GYPSY NONA. 
 
 In the blue vestibule of heaven ; 
 'Twas evening" work forever mine. 
 
 " Tho' we journeyed many weary miles, 
 
 Thro' forest, glade and city, 
 I'd watch the dewy stars look down 
 
 O'er me in seeming pity ; 
 I'd sit upon some mossy bank 
 
 And wonder if among the worlds above, 
 One for the gypsies would not be reserved, 
 
 A forest home of peace and love, 
 A home where gypsies can not die, 
 
 And days fade slowly not away. 
 
 O, bear me 'neath the blue sky once again, 
 
 Or raise those pine twigs that now play 
 Above the door ; I want to see the moon 
 
 Ere death shall dim my sight ; 
 I want to see her silver crescent beams 
 
 Shooting from their mystic height. 
 Now they steal so softly, gently 
 
 Thro' the pines into the white tent door ; 
 Wreathing, roving cedar shadows, 
 
 In -spangles o'er the floor. 
 
GYPSY NONA. I 7 
 
 " O, fan my burning brow. 
 
 Take me out the white tent door again, 
 That the dew may throw a misty covering 
 
 O'er my face like gentle rain." 
 They softly raised her dying couch, 
 
 The tender hearted gj'psy crew ; 
 Bore her to the still night air 
 
 Out in the pearly dew. 
 On the green again they laid her, 
 
 Close beside the murmuring stream 
 That went gurgling by their door, 
 
 Out in the lone moonbeam. 
 
 Another day had flown. 
 
 The priest had come to offer solemn 
 pray'r ; 
 Loud sobs from the gypsy band 
 
 Arose upon the evening air. 
 The sisters of the convent stood 
 
 Around them silently and pale ; 
 The dying maid awoke — 
 
 ''Ah!" she said, " a strange, mysteri- 
 ous vail 
 
GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Hangs around my couch ; 
 
 Now it wraps the world around ; 
 The last eve of my life 
 
 Is M^rapt in darkness most profound. 
 Earth's beauties all have faded 
 
 In the twilight now so dim, 
 My brain is — O, so light, 
 
 My senses reel and swim. 
 
 " O, if I could but be remembered, 
 
 When from earth I'm gone, 
 Seems that 'twould be a balm 
 
 To soothe me as I travel on 
 In that mysterious land ; 
 
 But O, forgetfulness, how cold, 
 To be wrapt within th}^ mantle, 
 
 To be smothered in thy fold." 
 
 "•Thou yearnst, then, for remembrance," 
 The priest talked absently and low ; 
 
 "To shrink from oblivion is human. 
 
 This, mementoes of past ages show. 
 The colossal rock-cut temples of India, 
 Carved by the artful hand 
 
GYPSY NONA. 19 
 
 Of a prehistoric age. 
 
 Silently and ghost-like stand. 
 As if yearning for remembrance. 
 
 The pyramids and mounds, 
 Built by the dead of long ago 
 
 Reverberate the same mysterious 
 sounds.'' 
 
 " Nona, daughter of the forest, away in th' 
 mystic realms 
 Of the never ending blue, 
 Thou shalt live immortal, 
 
 All will then be made anew. 
 Earthly things shall cease, 
 
 The meridian splendor of earth, life's 
 motion 
 Shall fade as the mighty river 
 That's lost in the billowy ocean. 
 
 " Sunny-eyed illustrious youth 
 Shall tremble in his decade ; 
 Even yon starry constellations 
 That wing their flight shall fade. 
 
20 GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Every earthly thing shall wither. 
 
 Only the enduring strength that God 
 will give, 
 
 The spirit of immortal man 
 Shall survive the fall and live. 
 
 " Sister Nona, turn thy thoughts to heaven, 
 
 To the spirit land above ; 
 And thou shalt be remembered, 
 
 And doubly blest with peace and love. 
 Let thy thoughts upward glide. 
 
 May Jesus be thy stay forever ; 
 That thou hast lived within this star, 
 
 Fair maid repent thee never. 
 When thy spirit wings its flight. 
 
 Safely o'er life's turbid river. 
 To the Gyps3^'s happ}^ shore, 
 
 Safely back with its giver ; 
 Thy misgivings and forebodings, 
 
 Thy sorrows in this vale of tears, 
 Which seemed so oft to throw 
 
 Their shades upon thy youtnful years. 
 May sometimes lightly glide. 
 
 Like half-forofotten dreams 
 
GYPSY NONA. 2i 
 
 Flit by thee ever and anon, 
 
 As stray sunbeams. 
 But the}^ can never mar thy happiness. 
 
 The brightest scene that e'er was thine 
 Will glimmer as a pale and sickly shadow. 
 
 In heaven's undimmed, splendid sun- 
 shine." 
 
 Thus the priest to Nona spoke. 
 
 Dying 'mid the pines and cedar trees ; 
 The anguish of the wanderers, 
 
 Arose upon the mighty breeze ; 
 And swelled away upon the plane, 
 
 B}^ trembling echoes they were borne 
 along 
 Till all in stilly night was hushed 
 
 Save the wailings of the throng. 
 
 The feathered songsters all had hushed ; 
 
 Moonbeams again began their play, 
 That beauteous autumn eve. 
 
 Among the pines so gav. 
 Balmy, radiant Indian summer, 
 
 Her damask robes had spread 
 
22 GYPSY NONA. 
 
 Where the dark-eyed handsome Nona, 
 In the southern land, lay dead. 
 
 When Aurora spread her wings. 
 
 They laid her 'neath the waving pine, 
 Where the flowers could in showers fall 
 
 From the wild and fragrant vine — 
 Fall thickly o'er her mossy grave — 
 
 When the autumn winds should sing 
 Their sacred anthems low, 
 
 Whene'r the vesper bells should ring. 
 
 Silently the smitten ones 
 
 Prepared to onward go, 
 Onward to the land of palms. 
 
 Where never falls a flake of snow. 
 By Nona's grave they stood awhile, 
 
 Then bade the spot a last adieu. 
 Vowed remembrance of the mound. 
 
 As other vales they'd wander thro'. 
 
 The artist who in days of yore 
 Painted there for love and fame. 
 
 Never drew the grassy mound ; 
 
 No more he to the pines and cedars came, 
 
GYPSY NONA. 23 
 
 For in the busy city 
 
 His easel and his canvas he had wed ; 
 He knew not that the gypsy maid 
 
 'Neath th' waving pines lay dead. 
 
 Petersburg, Ind., June, 1881. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 ^liJlpWAS fourteen hundred and ninety-two, 
 The time — was lone midnight I 
 The twinkling suns in the azure blue, 
 Threw shreds of golden light, 
 As they kept time for the tuneful stars, 
 
 That sang in their mystic flight. 
 The dying beams of the low hung moon. 
 
 Shone silently and bright, 
 Down 'mid the Santa Maria's masts and 
 spars, 
 Nodding from their airy height. 
 To the dark, dark ocean's mournful tune. 
 
 Deeply rolled the murky ocean. 
 
 And lonely did the night winds play. 
 
 With the billows in their wild commotion ; 
 Toying with the briny spray ; 
 
 The satelite of earth was dying, 
 
 Dropping o'er the heaving ocean's edge, 
 
The midnight watch of columbus. 25 
 
 Where the albatross on folded wings were 
 lying. 
 As land birds in a leafy hedge. 
 A trembling bark on that unknown sea, 
 Qiiivered and shrieked like a lost sea- 
 gull 
 That tips the waves so wearily 
 
 That they to rest its tired wings may lull. 
 
 Alone, Columbus stood upon the wander- 
 ers' deck, 
 As the faithful watchman cried — 
 " Twelve o'clock, midnight /" 
 
 'Twas a solemn hour for the heroic guide, 
 Solemn as the hour of an ocean wreck. 
 "Lo, I am with you," was the beacon 
 Hght. 
 And while his sad, disheartened seamen 
 slept, 
 Moaned in their uneasy slumbers. 
 He stood upon the Santa Maria's deck and 
 wept. 
 Just as night, her blackest hour numbers, 
 
26 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLllMBUS. 
 
 All the world seemed cold and dark, 
 Yet hopeful-eyed Columbus still his vig- 
 ils kept, 
 
 As wild winds did toss his heaving bark. 
 None of that lone night he slept. 
 
 His seamen's swelling hearts seemed break- 
 mg. 
 
 To think that the}^ should never more, 
 When from troubled sleep awaking. 
 
 Behold loved friends and native shore. 
 They had faint and wearied grown. 
 
 Each new hope had failed ; 
 Each splendid dream had flown. 
 
 Despondency each cheek had paled. 
 Their murmurs had swelled upon the breeze, 
 
 And faintlv they resolved 
 To throw their gallant leader to the salt 
 waves of the seas. 
 
 Ere the earth again revolved. 
 
 Onward the Santa Maria drifted. 
 
 Onward the}^ feared where Satan's hand 
 
 Was pictured on the deep uplifted. 
 To engulph their trembling band. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 27 
 
 But their ship was bounding o'er the main, 
 Nearing an island fair and bright. 
 
 While Columbus in a sad refrain, 
 Addressed the solemn night : 
 
 "O gloomy, solemn, sad midnight. 
 
 With darkness painted on thy pensive 
 brow, 
 The raven in her wandering flight 
 
 Was ne'r more black than thou ; 
 Sullen clouds shade thy brooding face. 
 
 And wild winds tear th}^ shaggy locks ; 
 Thy tears now fall thro' mystic space. 
 
 On dusky mountain's shadowy rocks. 
 
 Deep secrets in thy care-worn face, 
 
 ■ Ye sibyl-like do hold ; 
 
 Which thy sable plumes embrace. 
 
 As they backward wave and fold ; 
 A strange sensation fills my heart. 
 
 With utter loneliness and woe ; 
 As the lightnings flash and dart 
 
 Athwart thy brow so dark and low. 
 
28 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 Awe-Struck I stand and gaze on thee, 
 
 As the circling clouds in their onward 
 flight 
 Wake thee from thy lethargy 
 
 While doubling 'round thee, gloomy 
 night. 
 Hear ye not those wild, shrill shrieks, 
 
 From strange winged wanderers flying? 
 With drooping wings, low hung beaks. 
 
 To find some watery nook they're trying. 
 
 Mut'ring birds of every grade. 
 
 Now hide in man^^ a darksome glen, 
 They tremble as they seek the shade, 
 
 For th}^ darkness frightens them ; 
 Their low laments add only gloom 
 
 To thee, O, silent night! 
 No genial ray, but sorrow's doom. 
 
 Attends them in their onward flight. 
 
 I, too, shudder, start and tremble 
 
 As I thus behold thy frown. 
 For troubled thoughts with me assemble 
 
 And weigh m^- sinking spirits down. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS, 
 
 But look ! be3^ond a hallowed light 
 
 In the distance dazzles me ; 
 The gleams are of the purest white ; 
 
 I shudder not, but turn from thee. 
 List ! thy silence now is broken, 
 
 I hear a voice, firm and stayed. 
 In which a sentence low is spoken : 
 
 " ' Tls I— be not afraid! " 
 
 •' O ! is that a star, or am I — 
 
 Can it be Fm dreaming? 
 Or do I now behold the genial sky. 
 
 Wrapt in splendor, gleaming 
 Above some friendly shore? 
 
 Ah, what transports of joy 
 Have faded ott before I 
 • Then, O, let not such visions toy 
 With my sore and tender heart-strings. 
 
 Which but for hope would burst asunder, 
 That my spirit might take wings 
 
 And leave the waves to roll my body 
 under." 
 
30 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 Ah ! the rich aroma of an island fair, 
 Surely comes on the waves of the tide ; 
 
 Borne along on the darkened air, 
 O'er the ocean wild and wide. 
 
 I feel the damp sea breeze 
 
 Fan my sombre, aching brow ; 
 But what is that from o'er the seas 
 
 I am faintly breathing now? 
 Whence comes that flavored air 
 
 That now methinks I breathe? 
 Could it be some floral island fair. 
 
 Now around our' mastheads wreath 
 The essence of her garland'd shore? 
 
 And what ! is that some real light 
 From some lone cottage door 
 
 That now illumes my sight? 
 Or some strange phenomena of the sea, 
 
 Or delusive light of marshy bog, 
 Darting up so light and free. 
 
 Shining thro' the misty fog. 
 
 With folded arms he stood as if entranced, 
 Steadfastly gazing o'er the billowy foam, 
 
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 3! 
 
 Tho' night in sable plumes before him 
 dance : 
 
 Yet away beyond her seething gloam, 
 The spangles of ethereal light 
 
 Held him as 'twere by magic power. 
 Electric ra3's seemed to illume his sight. 
 
 Thus he stood hour after hour 
 Heedless that the briny spray 
 
 Had damped his noble brow. 
 Thro' the darkness shot a gleam of day — 
 
 What saw the noble chieftain now ! 
 
 Lo ! the night watch cried the hour again ; 
 
 One faint gleam of early dawn 
 Broke upon the murky ocean's plain ; 
 
 One dark thread of night was gone ; 
 And as the gray dawn broke in rosy hues, 
 
 His searching eye the ocean scanned ; . 
 His brow lit up with heaven's light, 
 
 As he beheld a pebbled strand ! 
 He cried in wild delight — 
 
 O, God ! wake my seamen from their 
 slumbers ! 
 Then, thro' the ship, the cheering news 
 
 Flashed ! and woke the numbers. 
 
32 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 The}' rushed upon the Santa Maria's deck, 
 
 Heart thrilled to heart ; 
 For pure joy did Columbus weep, 
 
 Forboding gloom quickly did depart, 
 While swelling cheers jarred the mighty 
 deep. 
 For, blushing like a fair young flower, 
 America stood before them wild and wide, 
 
 Stand'g as if in a vine-clad bower, 
 Wreathed in beauty as some fair young 
 bride, 
 With garlands 'round her head and 
 pearls around her neck. 
 
 The last dark night had flown ; 
 
 The hardships of their sea voyage o'er ; 
 Troubled thoughts had upon the breezes 
 flown ; 
 
 They beheld their light-winged ship. 
 In the dawn's first rosy hues. 
 
 Lightly o'er the billows skip 
 To a floral island kissed with dews. 
 
 The seamen in their joy so wild 
 Gave way to shouts and cheers 1 
 
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH OF COLUMBUS. 33 
 
 While calmly stood the hero, mild ; 
 
 His bosom heaved, his eyes were full of 
 tears. 
 He held the Christian banner and the 
 cross ; 
 Wiped from his noble brow the ocean 
 spray 
 That had settled there like down}^ moss. 
 He slowly raised his hand to brush his 
 tears away. 
 For their ship was rounding to the shore ; 
 
 All was peace, the goal he'd won. 
 
 Brave Columbus stepped upon the strand, 
 
 Embraced the Christian banner, and 
 
 cried, " O God, 'tis done ! " 
 
 He meekly knelt and k/'ssed the new found 
 
 land. 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 HEN we are asleep, what journeys 
 may the spirit take ; 
 
 And, as electric light, fly back whene'er 
 we wake ; 
 Perchance, the dreams that fly like meteors 
 
 past 
 The secret link that binds the soul to its 
 
 temple fast, 
 Are faintest shadows of the scenes thro' 
 
 which the spirit roves 
 While journe3nng through our Father's 
 
 mansions, his pine and olive groves. 
 In dreams we seem to stand at early morn, 
 
 wrapt in sublimity ; 
 O'erpowered by the splendor and beauty 
 
 of immensity ; 
 Tis when the mind is clear of hate, for 
 
 love's th' magic power 
 That soothes our senses, like dew from 
 
 heaven that falls in th' still-night hour. 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 Again beside th' dear departed dead we 
 
 seem to stand ; 
 They clasp us in their arms, they take us 
 
 by the hand ; 
 They lead us forth to show us th' light and 
 
 shades of Paradise, 
 The Eden home, where happy ones know 
 
 not a vice. 
 Again we seem to roam in dark, mysterious 
 
 places, 'mid troubled scenes in life. 
 Where th' spirit seems to walk 'mid scenes 
 
 of earthly strife. 
 If this be so, that while th' senses swim in 
 
 quiet sleep 
 The ever-wakeful spirit moves out o'er th' 
 
 boundless deep — 
 Yet watching still its trembling temple of 
 
 - clay. 
 Where for God's appointed time it yet 
 
 must stay. 
 At each return, may it sufficient heavenly 
 
 balm be given 
 To soothe earth's cares 'til it forever shall 
 
 wing its flight to heaven. 
 
 35 
 
36 AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 Thus one eve I sat before my blazing grate 
 And dreamed securely-welded chains held 
 
 me fast in fate 
 Upon the border-land of dreams. 
 I was half awake and half asleep, it seems, 
 And as I dreamed of years long past, 
 The thoughts came trooping in so thick 
 
 and fast 
 That within the audience-chamber of my 
 
 mind 
 They not even standiiig-Yoova could find ; 
 While hovering o'er, and just above. 
 My spirit hung so like a white-wanged dove. 
 Viewing the scenes each m3^stic thought 
 Like a tangled web had wrought 
 From pictures of the shadowy past. 
 Each in dark or light shades cast. 
 Methought, must m}^ spirit view each one 
 From the first when conscious life begun 
 Its passing, strange career, 
 Its journey thro' this planetary sphere ; 
 Must every scene its dark or shining face 
 Upturn, that spirit may its features trace? 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 37 
 
 If SO, O, my spirit, may the scenes be 
 
 lightly scanned 
 Tho' deeply cut on memory's strand, 
 That pains the heart or draws the bitter 
 
 tear 
 As if shed by some departed loved one's 
 
 bier. 
 O, if ye tarry, my spirit, to linger long 
 Above this motley crowded throng, 
 May it more oft', just be above 
 The scenes of happiness and love ; 
 But, ah ! methought how each upon its 
 
 brow 
 Wore a firm, determined vow 
 To usher in and make its presence known, 
 Tho' dust of years had o'er it flown. 
 Back and forth, 'til within the debris deep. 
 It seemed securely locked in everlasting 
 
 sleep. 
 Calmness reigned now mild and meek. 
 For my spirit seemed to speak : 
 " Let silence sway her scepter free. 
 And seated let these thoughts now be, 
 
38 AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 Each must its sovereign obey," 
 
 Spirit seemed to take a calm survey, 
 
 Each waited an orderly review 
 
 While spirit winged the audience chambers 
 
 through. 
 Deep silence on the throng then fell, 
 Only spirit seemed to break the magic spell ; 
 Its echos brought to life and light, 
 Each scene tho' dark or bright, 
 Those most fair hanging there 
 Encased in frames of solemn pray'r. 
 Were of my childhood days 
 When Heaven's bright congenial rays 
 Tinted all with gold and silver linings. 
 No back ground there of sad repinings. 
 Ah, how quickly they had flown. 
 They smiled and glittered quite alone. 
 But fresh as if the dew of yester night 
 Had kissed each one so fair and bright ; 
 Half consciously I watched the shadows 
 
 free 
 Passing one by one before me, 
 'Til sadness filled my aching heart 
 So full, that my spirit seemed to start 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 39 
 
 Without the opening of that curtained means 
 That others now are crowding from behind 
 
 the scenes. 
 Yes, there they ushered forth, in crowds, 
 Enrolled in ghostly shrouds ; 
 'Twere of those days when busy care 
 Brought forth her robes for me to wear, 
 And decked me for the daily strife 
 Of this, m}^ planetary life. 
 O, my spirit, as thou seemed sovereign, 
 O'er this throng ye seem to govern, 
 Dispel the darker scenes and let me rest, 
 Tho' some are bright, the most seem hard 
 
 at best. 
 Thus consciously I seemed to speak 
 To my spirits mild and meek ; 
 Thus I awoke from my dreaming 
 With all these scenes before me gleaming ; 
 Seemed I had passed thro' endless ages. 
 While in slumber I'd been scanning mem- 
 ory's pages. 
 Wearily I turned before my cosy grate 
 Tho' the night was growing late ; 
 A soothing voice from on high seemed to 
 call, 
 
4^ AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 Seemed to summon my spirit from its prison 
 
 wall . 
 Again it seemed to lightly wing above. 
 This time mid scenes of purity and love ; 
 " Come thou and see the glory of my house," 
 This sublime exordium to me given 
 By the Sovereign, while his angels stood 
 
 around Him 
 In the blue vestibule of heaven. 
 I seemed to fly to mansions up on high 
 In the deep mysterious sk3% 
 An angel guide to me was given, 
 We were to roam the endless fields of 
 
 heaven ; 
 From plane to plane we soon did fly, 
 We swiftly swept the pathless sky. 
 Beheld new scenes there in immensity 
 We ne'r can see here in mortality ; 
 On every side bright orbs were flying to 
 
 and fro. 
 Fairly glittering in their double sun's re- 
 
 splendant glow. 
 We swung o'er double suns 
 That mingled their orange light and blue 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 4I 
 
 Confused, and from my angel guide 
 
 A moment backward drew ; 
 
 For lo ! the exquisite mingling of their rays 
 
 Illumed in island universe, 
 
 And did the rolling golden orbs 
 
 In gorgeous brilliancy immerse. 
 
 'Tis enough ! I cried, 
 
 Now unto my angel guide, 
 
 Long we have winged now side by side, 
 
 Swiftly thro' space so deep and wide ; 
 
 Infinity so charms me that Fm lost 
 
 As among these flying orbs we're tossed ; 
 
 My own sphere was unto me 
 
 As a vast unfathomable sea, 
 
 Tho' now it seems 
 
 Though lighted by its own sun beams. 
 
 Only — as 't were — a grain of sand 
 
 Upon immensity's pebble strand. 
 
 And here within immensity 
 
 I ache w^hen I behold infinity ; 
 
 For trillions of miles from m}^ own sphere. 
 
 So beautiful to me and so dear ; 
 
 So beautiful to me and so bright, 
 
 With thee I have winged my flight. 
 
42 AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 Still beyond circling orbs roll grand and 
 
 true, 
 In the inimitable boundless blue ; 
 
 0, is there no end angelic son? 
 Then the angel answered "«o;/<7." 
 
 On fleetest wings still \nq sped thro' bound- 
 less space 
 And scanned deep nature's smiling face. 
 Onward! was the only word, 
 
 1, in angel garb now heard ; 
 Among Strauv's double stars 
 We seemed to lightly fly. 
 
 And all around, above, beneath, 
 
 They brilliantly lit up the sky ; 
 
 We heard sweet music that had chimed 
 
 Their tunes for cycles of revolving years, 
 
 'Twas the deep and solemn harmony 
 
 Of the rolling spheres — 
 
 That language of the soul we read — 
 
 'Twas written in the thick star dust 
 
 That hung on heaven's deep blue walls 
 
 In serenity and trust. 
 
 While on the immense confines of Nep- 
 tune's orb 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 43 
 
 We saw unnumbered blazing comets fly 
 thro' space, 
 
 Sweeping to and fro toward single and 
 double suns ; 
 
 Each terrific in its whirling race ; 
 
 Some came up from the plane of the eclip- 
 tic, 
 
 Plunged forward, backward, swifdy round 
 and round, 
 
 Then sped with inconceivable velocity 
 
 Into the fathomless pit beyond — 
 
 For ever beyond our vision. 
 
 All save these revolved harmoniously, 
 
 All save these seemed fixed and numbered ; 
 
 These blazing ones rolled on promiscu- 
 ously. 
 
 We thought while gazing on these fiery 
 worlds, 
 
 No wonder they've been the terror of ever}^ 
 age 
 
 To weak and trembling ones of earth. 
 
 As omens that pestilence and war should 
 raofe. 
 
44 AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 All above, below, around, on every side 
 was ^notion, 
 
 Planets and their satellites in seemly pure 
 devotion ; 
 
 With their sister and their attendants 
 
 Sweeping 'round the suns 
 
 And bright resplendent systems 
 
 Of suns, swept 'round other suns 
 
 'Till all swept harmoniously afar, 
 
 'Round Alcyone the great, the central star. 
 
 All were sweeping, sweeping, ever sweep- 
 ing on. 
 
 Suns and systems of island universes, 'rose 
 and 'rose, 
 
 And as I turned to watch their ceaseless 
 cycles, 
 
 Lo ! all space was filled with their resplend- 
 ent glows. 
 
 In wild delight I cried 
 
 Again unto my angel guide, 
 
 O, is there no end angelic son? 
 
 Again the angel answered ";zo«^." 
 
 O, my seraphic angel guide, 
 
 Now as we are winging side by side, 
 
AMONG THE STARS. 45 
 
 May I ask one thing of thee — 
 
 What am I that God art mindful of me ? 
 
 Then the angel whispered softly low, 
 ' Dweller of the earth do }■ e not know 
 
 That ye were in his holy image made — 
 
 Why tremble ye, why be afraid? 
 
 Since ye are only a little lower than the 
 angels fair. 
 
 Ye behold around the throne up there." 
 
 'Tis enough, I cried. 
 
 Again unto my angel guide, 
 
 Tho' only farts of his ways have been re- 
 vealed. 
 
 Yet all before me lies his great book sealed, 
 
 Wherein I and undeserving others 
 
 Of my own unerring brothers. 
 
 Shall find soul food in its wond'rous pages, 
 
 Jn the grand progressive ages. 
 
 So strongly o'erwhelm'd I seemed to be, 
 
 With the vastness of immensity, 
 
 That the angel unclasped me 
 
 From eternal serenity. 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye I seemed to 
 change 
 
46 AMONG THE STARS. 
 
 From that state, to me so strange, 
 
 The spell broke ; 
 
 I quickly woke ; 
 
 I was upon the earth again, 
 
 Listening to the dashing rain 
 
 Beating on my window pane 
 
 In a seeming sad refrain ; 
 
 Time seemed ghostly from infinitude, 
 
 But with her I'd been gathering soul food ; 
 
 All I seemed to hear when I my senses won, 
 
 Was the angel answering '•'■none.'''' 
 
 Petersburg, Ind., March, 1881. 
 
THE WORLD ONCE MORE IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 This poem was offered in competition for one of the prizes (first 
 prize, $1,000; second prize, $500) offered by Hon. H. E. Helper, of 
 St. Louis, Mo., for the best attaintible poems on the Great Interna- 
 tional Railroad, styled "The Three American Railroads," as pro- 
 jected by him, and to extend through the full length of North, 
 Central and South America. The poem having failed to meet the 
 approbation of the committee, we herein present it to the reader of 
 these pages: 
 
 ARK ! what is that resounding sound 
 ?'^ That now trembles Hke a harpstring 
 on th' winds, 
 And quivers like its silver chords? 
 
 Hark ! some nymph a song begins ! 
 'Tis echo's reverberating voice 
 
 That holds us now spellbound ; 
 Holds us as she herself was held 
 When she first Narcissus found. 
 
 She then with all her soul Narcissus loved, 
 But when her love he slighted 
 
48 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 She faded like the shades of eve, 
 For her lovely life was blighted ; 
 
 Angel-like she took her flight, 
 But left her reverberating voice 
 
 To sing thro' earth the love of nations 
 And bid the word rejoice. 
 
 Her wave-like reverberating tones 
 
 Still live within the rocky dale, 
 And oft' is heard among th' mountain clefts 
 
 Her sad resounding wail. 
 O, now fair Echo, rise and sing 
 
 The sweetest song that e'er ye sang ; 
 May it be the noblest one 
 
 That e'er among thy anthems rang. 
 
 Sing America's present, past and future 
 
 Thro' every leafy dell. 
 That all ma}^ hear thy reverberating tones 
 
 As they upon the breezes swell. 
 Let soul-stirring words be heard 
 
 In each rebounding trill, 
 And as they float from zone to zone, 
 
 May they with rapture fill. 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 49 
 
 Mount high and lofty pyramids 
 
 In the sylvan plains of Mexico, 
 And let thy pre-eminent song rebound 
 
 Thro'out the lengthy trio — • 
 The three America's richly laden vales — 
 
 For no human tono^ue can tell 
 Of half their wondrous wealth, 
 
 Tho' its tones should ever on the breezes 
 swell. 
 
 Sing the praises of each fertile glen ; 
 
 Sing loudly of the fertile valley 
 Of the blooming Mississippi 
 
 Till the half starved crowds shall rally 
 To the floral coverings of its rural shades, 
 
 Or to the silken-leaved banana groves 
 In that enchanted land 
 
 Where the Orinoco's silver river roves ; 
 
 Or to the plains of ancient Mexico, 
 
 Where vast sheets of level lands so free 
 
 Spread from colossal mountain ranges 
 Far above the level of the sea. 
 
 Carol the splendor of Mexico's celebrated 
 plains, 
 
50 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 Elevated to the wondrous height 
 Of more than seven thousand feet, 
 Smiling in the tropic like sunlight. 
 
 Her plains are green, while her lofty peaks 
 
 Are covered with perpetual snow, 
 Diffusing coolness down upon 
 
 The rolling table lands below. 
 Belted by the dark, porphja-itic rock 
 
 Reared by nature's hand ; 
 Cooled by the snow fields far above. 
 
 The verdant level land. 
 
 And within the center of the golden vale, 
 
 Hedged in by orange groves and aloe, 
 Sitting queen-like in her splendid beaut}^. 
 
 Behold the templed city of far famed 
 Mexico. 
 The world around her seems a paradise. 
 
 With her pyramids and rock of ages. 
 Where upon have stood 
 
 World renowned philosophers and sages. 
 
 O, why do human beings live. 
 Crowded in their dusty cit}' dens, 
 
 Haggard, cold and lifeless, 
 
 When the charms that nature lends 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 5^ 
 
 America's boundless, endless, gateless 
 Billion acres of perennial pasture lands. 
 
 Would s'lve the roseate hue of health 
 Bright as th' glitter of the sunbeams in 
 the burnish' d sands. 
 
 Man might live so happily 
 
 And know no chilling frost, 
 If he'd only " gather up the fragments 
 
 That there be nothing lost." 
 For enough is wasted on America's plains 
 
 Every year to feed her poor ; 
 Enough to feed and clothe them 
 
 And turn them from the almshouse door. 
 
 Countless murmuring streams. 
 
 Flowing from the Sierra Madra's ever- 
 lasting snows, 
 Bathe and fertilize vast plains 
 
 Where sufficient aromatic herbage grows, 
 That all the herds in the world 
 
 Might drink and graze 
 The whole year 'round. 
 
 There nature's hand in such profusion 
 plays. 
 
52 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 And when the rains of May and June 
 
 Have ceased their carols in the vales, 
 Then comes the bright electric showers, 
 
 With their soft and breezy gales. 
 To give fresh luster to the plains, 
 
 And to the rustic mountain slopes, 
 With their clusters of variegated flowers, 
 
 Where each quavering brooklet opes. 
 
 O, the world once more is demanding room, 
 
 Then let the mighty effort be. 
 To open up America's gifted land. 
 
 And name the whole the land of liberty. 
 For no where does intellicrence 
 
 Brighten up the eyes. 
 Of the multitudes in general, 
 
 As beneath her sunny skies. 
 Her free political institutions, 
 
 Are praised thro'out the world, 
 Then may the silvered banner peace 
 
 Soon to the free winds be unfurled. 
 
 No such grand, majestic, mountain chains. 
 
 No such rivers, lakes and plains, 
 
 No such great variety of soil and clime. 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 53 
 
 So salubrious and sublime, 
 
 No such wealth in gold and silver ore, 
 
 Was ever known in any other land before. 
 
 America's huge and white wing'd ships, 
 
 Are sailing now on every sea, 
 Her lakes and netted rivers 
 
 Swarm with steamers grand and free. 
 Her railroads are long enough 
 
 To belt the world three times around, 
 Such natural and acquired wealth 
 
 In no other land is found. 
 
 Her churches, her free schools, 
 
 Public buildings and steepled colleges. 
 
 Excel in numbers every other clime. 
 This the world acknowledges. 
 
 The crude materials are all here, 
 • Beneath our sunny skies, 
 
 That earth can give to man 
 For his comfort and devise. 
 
 The needs of human life are great, 
 
 And the world is now demanding room, 
 As it did in that age when Columbus 
 wandered 
 
54 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 Eighteen years in poverty, sorrow and 
 gloom ; 
 Sadly wandering because too poor 
 
 To search for the land so fair, 
 The rose-clad land toward the setting sun 
 
 That Divine intuition told him was there. 
 
 Eighteen years he begged for a helping 
 hand, 
 But our Savior's words sublime, 
 " No man liveth unto himself alone," 
 Fell unheeded in that foreign clime ; 
 Tho' the world demanded room. 
 
 No help was offered 'til the Queen of 
 Spain 
 Resolved to sell her jewels 
 
 To help him o'er the rolling main. 
 
 Then three frail and trembling barks 
 Were launched upon the unknown deep 
 
 And floated out at random 
 
 On the raving, dangerous deep. 
 
 And when Columbus' feeble band 
 
 Beheld the salt waves of the moaning 
 ocean 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 55 
 
 Swelling high and foaming white, 
 
 Fairly frantic in their wild commotion, 
 
 They begged him to return unto their na- 
 tive shore, 
 But they could only beg and weep. 
 
 In wild dispair when distant wails 
 Nightly broke their troubled sleep. 
 
 For the world demanded room ; 
 
 And when the world demands, 
 A representative is ever found 
 
 To follow her commands. 
 God had told Columbus 
 
 Of the land beyond- the sea, 
 Of beautiful America, 
 
 Blooming in her wild sublimity. 
 
 And when He pointed out America 
 • To that feeble band of braves, 
 That near four hundred years ago 
 
 Columbus led across the waves. 
 Their murmurs turned to gladsome shouts ; 
 
 And when they beheld her wild and lone 
 Their songs of praise rang o'er the deep. 
 
 And thro' the vale the red man called 
 His own. 
 
56 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 Columbus blessed the God of heaven, 
 
 When he heard the joyous cry of '" land ! " 
 For a mutiny was swelling on the deep, 
 
 His seamen had refused to follow his com- 
 mand. 
 All night he'd sat and watched alone, 
 
 Trembling, faint and weary lest the morn 
 Should only usher in to find them 
 
 More hopeless, desperate and forlorn. 
 
 With overflowing heart, Columbus raised 
 the christian banner 
 
 Upon America's shady shore, 
 And in honor of the holy Savior, 
 
 Named the spot San Salvador ; 
 And ever since that happy hour. 
 
 Ever since the eventful day 
 Columbus knelt and kissed the strand 
 
 In the dawning's silver ray, 
 Hath a strange halo of light 
 
 Surrounded the lonely three ; 
 A star-like belt of light 
 
 Hath girdled the tripples of the sea. 
 
 O, now behold the favor 
 Of these God-created three 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 57 
 
 And wonder not that they be called 
 
 The lone twin sisters of the sea. 
 See the likeness of the lines 
 
 God drew upon these lone ones of the 
 deep, 
 Reposing solitary and alone, 
 
 Profoundly wrapt in sleep. 
 
 Every striking feature of the north 
 
 Hath its counterpart, I ween ; 
 Yes, its beauteous counterpart 
 
 In the southern land .is seen. 
 Superior and her sister lakes. 
 
 Which form a vast interior sea 
 In America's northern land, 
 
 Where continued navigation 's free, 
 For the steamers of our nation 
 
 Find their shadows far below, 
 Near the sunny summer land 
 
 Where the tide-waves come and go. 
 
 Each northern mountain range 
 
 Hath its sturdy brother chain, 
 And each great river system 
 
 Finds her sister in the southern land 
 again. 
 
58 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 Behold the corresponding table lands 
 Their low hills, plains and valleys ; 
 
 See the likeness of their lines 
 
 Where the ocean kisses them and dallies. 
 
 The Mississippi, like a mighty Hercules, 
 
 Stretching out full length 
 Thro' the center of the fertile plain. 
 
 Throws one arm with giant strength 
 Far out toward the great Pacific 
 
 And into the Rocky Mountain vales, 
 'The other to the Alleghenies, 
 
 Reaching for the white-winged sails 
 Of the richly laden steamers ; 
 
 Wider yet she spreads her open hands. 
 As if by begging for the untold wealth 
 
 That lies buried in her golden sands. 
 
 This mighty river, with her winding 
 branches, 
 Watering all the fertile plain, 
 Far excels all river S3^stems 
 . Yet e'er known across the main. 
 But her blue eyed sister, Amazon, 
 Rolling thro' the southern plain. 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 59 
 
 Copes with her in strength and beauty, 
 See the hkeness shown again. 
 
 God planned the three Americas, 
 
 And made them ver}' fair ; 
 He bound them in three Hnks and left them, 
 
 The objects of his watchful care. 
 Tho' untold ages have rolled on, 
 
 His care has ne'er diminished, 
 The land He blest and left the rest 
 
 For inventive man to finish. 
 
 America's isolated and rich fields, 
 
 Wondrously and nobly planned, 
 By that Greatest Architect, 
 
 Was ne'er made a summer land 
 Solely for the golden plumaged birds, 
 
 That then sang so free and gay, 
 In her wild and radiant groves. 
 
 Where reigns perpetual summer day. 
 
 God formed America for a noble end, 
 And now the destiny of the world de- 
 mands 
 
 Full extension and development 
 Of her overflowing lands. 
 
6o THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM, 
 
 The world once more is demanding room, 
 And ere we see the milenial dawn, 
 
 Multitudes must necessarily be 
 From the old world drawn. 
 
 Behold, they already come 
 
 Crowding to her sunny shores, 
 Crowding to the land of liberty. 
 
 Crowding thro' her open doors. 
 For she's so rich in silks and pearls. 
 
 Luscious fruits and sweetest spices, 
 Deepest mines of gold and silver, 
 
 That she all the world entices. 
 
 And all who will may come. 
 
 And welcome be each honest band 
 That comes to God's own gifted. 
 
 His ow^n, his chosen land ; 
 He made it long and broad enough for all ; 
 
 Each portion 's wisely planned ; 
 'Tis free for every nation, 
 
 This thrice blest, gifted land ! 
 
 And when thro' her lengthy valleys 
 The rushing railway car 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 6 1 
 
 Shall be swiftly bringing 
 
 Her treasures from afar, 
 There may be a golden-bordered banner 
 
 Spangled with the motto, Peace ! 
 Drape above its silvered fold 
 
 And wave o'er her and never cease. 
 
 For on the low hill, plain and valley. 
 
 Verdant all the year round, 
 Decked with sweetest scented flowers, 
 
 Fairy homes will then be found ; 
 Or in the wild heroic forest shades, 
 
 Near the rushing river falls, 
 Dashing dow^n their hundred feet, 
 
 O'er their stupendous w^alls. 
 
 Neat and bird-like cottages 
 
 Will thickly dot the western green. 
 Where now the hawthorn thickets grow, 
 
 Thrivinfj cities will be seen. 
 And the great commercial marts 
 
 Will be bound together peacefully. 
 And the glad events be celebrated 
 
 On her anniversary day. 
 
62 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 When all the north and all the south, 
 All the east and all the west, shall rally 
 
 In the great metropolis 
 Of the Mississippi valley. 
 
 Our earth will again become a paradise. 
 
 And life be better understood, 
 When each within his proper sphere, 
 
 Shall honor the ties of brotherhood. 
 Then North, South and Central America 
 
 Will rise as a mighty power. 
 When benevolence and faith shall be 
 
 The inspiration of the hour. 
 
 When the rich shall help bring out the poor 
 
 To America's sunny woodland slopes, 
 Inspired by new desires, new thoughts. 
 
 Fresh courage and fresh hopes. 
 There will be established a feelino^ 
 
 Of fellowship and love. 
 Thro' all the lengthy land. 
 
 As among the angrel host above. 
 
 & 
 
 For ere we see the silver gray, 
 Of the great milenial day ; 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 6^ 
 
 A social palace America must be, 
 
 A co-operative home for every family. 
 Then, Americans, rally and finish speedily 
 
 Hinton Rowan Helper's great railway, 
 So that at least once a year 
 
 There shall be " a festival of labor," 
 That the northern man may clasp 
 
 The hand of his southern neighbor. 
 
 Then soon the land where the aurora 
 
 Throws her waves of burning light. 
 Far up in the north horizon. 
 
 Far above the mountain's height, 
 Will embrace her sister land, 
 
 Her fair, warm-hearted sister land — 
 The land where grows the date and palm, 
 
 The land that will stretch forth her hand 
 And beckon for the multitudes to come 
 
 And dwell within her tropic groves. 
 And introduce the Christian faith. 
 
 And feast 'neath bending trees of loves. 
 
 All hail the happy advent of the day. 
 When Helper's cars shall rush thro' 
 rural shades, 
 
64 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 Of rosewood, sandal, satin and pine. 
 Where summer never fades ; 
 
 Thro' the clime where trees give milk 
 and bread 
 And weave their feathery plumes 
 
 To furnish homes for men 
 As well as meat and sweet perfumes. 
 
 O, with what richness and profusion 
 
 God hath clothed America's land ! 
 We look enraptured on her splendor ; 
 
 She 's awe-strikingly sublime and grand 
 We look thro' God's art galleries, 
 
 Richly draped in the twilight gray, 
 And thrillingly beautiful lessons learn 
 
 Prospecting the great railway. 
 
 For how like a mighty river system 
 
 Is this great railway in plan — 
 One 's the thought of God, 
 
 The other that of man. 
 The inspiration seems divine ; 
 
 The idea borrowed from Nature's hand 
 So lofty, noble and sublime. 
 
 Soul-stirring, beautiful and grand. 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 65 
 
 How like the branching Mississippi 
 
 Is this lengthy railway line, 
 As it winds in strength and beauty 
 
 Like an onward creeping vine ; 
 Now behold the curvatures 
 
 Of the wondrous great backbone 
 As it stretches from the Arctic 
 
 Thro' the torrid zone. 
 
 Come view from side to side 
 
 The long converging lines 
 That will stretch from east to west 
 
 Thro' the whisp'ring pines, 
 And see the templed cities 
 
 That will rise within the vales 
 Like steamers on the waters 
 
 When they raise their gauzy sails. 
 
 Norman or Italian bard of chivalrv, 
 
 In their legandary lore 
 Ne'er devised a nobler theme 
 
 On which the mind of man could soar. 
 Then let us rise, be up and doing, 
 
 Let us copy from God's diagrams, 
 3 
 
66 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 And paint in golden colors, 
 And carry oft' the palms. 
 
 We do little else but copy 
 
 While on this earthly stage, 
 And drawing from God's handiwork, 
 
 We paint from age to age. 
 What better than to draw from diagrams 
 
 Laid oft' by Nature's hand, 
 And deeph' cut within our own, 
 
 Our own, sweet native land. 
 
 Let us still keep copying 
 
 'Ere dewy morn shall lose her rosy hue. 
 For God so meant that man 
 
 Should draw from nature true. 
 And shall inventive man now sleep, 
 
 And harken not unto God's voice 
 ■ That calls him from his lethargy 
 
 To sing his praises and rejoice? 
 
 O, the world is now demanding room, 
 Then discourage not by look or word 
 
 Helper's plans to open up the wilderness, 
 O, may no selfish murmurings be heard. 
 
THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 67 
 
 For behold the germs of Columbus lives 
 again, 
 In Hinton Rowan Helper's wondrous 
 plan, 
 To build the three America's railway 
 To civilize and supply the wants of man. 
 
 O, may the twins connected be, 
 
 By one long, extensive span 
 Of telegraph and railroad line, 
 
 That man may know his fellow man. 
 Then let the greatest problem 
 
 Of the nineteenth centur}' be, 
 How to push this lengthy railway 
 
 From the northern to the southern sea. 
 
 If there be those who cry " fanatic," 
 
 Let their words unheeded fall. 
 If there be those who cry " 'tis all a hoax," 
 
 Heed not their words at all. 
 For where's the age that such. 
 
 Did ever revolutionize? 
 Their voices tho' are heard, 
 
 In every such great enterpfise. 
 
68 THE WORLD IS DEMANDING ROOM. 
 
 Our Savior met the murmuring multitudes, 
 
 When He came to revolutionize the world, 
 Behold the Reformer, too, 
 
 Into the fiery furnace hurled. 
 There were murmurs on the breeze, 
 
 When young Galileo went afloat, 
 To prove the laws of gravitation, 
 
 His words repeated oft. 
 Were only chimed in mockery 
 
 By the multitude below. 
 But in what age were such ne'er heard. 
 
 We should be glad to know. 
 
 O, let selfish murmurings wither and die 
 
 As uncouth sounds upon the breeze, 
 That hourly loose themselves 
 
 Upon the nightly seas. 
 Let us strive to build the great railway. 
 
 And let every slave go free. 
 That on America's anniversary day, 
 
 We may plant the tree of liberty. 
 Petersburg, Ind., Sept. 15, 1880. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE BIISSISSIPPI. 
 
 HAVE seen 3^011, Mississippi, 
 
 In 3^our glory and your pride ; 
 I have seen your curly waters 
 
 Leap and dance at eventide ; 
 I have seen the trembling clouds 
 
 Roll their folds of black and white 
 O'er your deep m3^sterious waters, 
 
 Hedging off the queen of night. 
 
 I have seen the raging storms 
 
 Tear your white waves one by one ! 
 I have seen their fiery darts 
 
 Flash and o'er your billows run ; 
 I have watched the screaming birds 
 
 Dip their pinions in 3'our wave, 
 Skim along the bubbling foam 
 
 Just before the tempests rave. 
 
 I have seen 3'ou, Mississippi, 
 When the golden orb of day 
 
70 A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Looked in all his splendor on you 
 From his throne so far away, 
 
 Threw a thousand spangled darts, 
 Glittering thro' a leafy screen, 
 
 Trembling in a pale blue light 
 Of a heavenly morn I've seen. 
 
 I have dreamed upon your banks, 
 
 Waked to watch the flowrets drink 
 From the rock-cliff's drooping head 
 
 Bending o'er 3^our crested brink ; 
 Stopped to watch the trailing vine 
 
 Hanging o'er your lowly bed. 
 Waving ever back and forth 
 
 Like a soft and silken thread. 
 
 I have seen the softest shades 
 
 Creep upon you in the eve, 
 When the twilight thrilled the soul, 
 
 When the sun began to leave ; 
 I have seen the twinkling stars 
 
 Bend their dewy eyes on thee. 
 Shed their pearly silvered tears 
 
 Down at night on you and me. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. ^l 
 
 I have tossed in anguish wild 
 
 On your dark and turbid waves, 
 Then I've thought you cruel, river, 
 
 With your numerous sunken graves ; 
 For the same 3-ou proudly shone 
 
 In your silent revelry, 
 And your statel}" winding waves 
 
 Moved along as merrih^ 
 
 But Fve come this eve to hear, 
 
 From your lips a strange, sad story ; 
 One which other days have known. 
 
 When 3'ou shone in all your glory. 
 I, you can not speak to me. 
 
 If since then your lips 3'ou've sealed ; 
 Let me now the stor^^ tell, 
 
 For 3'our secret was revealed. 
 
 Once a bold and daring tribe, 
 
 Dwelt upon vour border-land, 
 Built their tents of snowy wdiite, 
 
 Near 3'our sand3^ pebbled strand. 
 Smoked a happ3^ pipc of peace. 
 
 Talked of other days gone by, 
 Wished all tribes and others well, 
 
 Silence cast a happ3^ sigh. 
 
72 A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Silence was the great chief's name, 
 
 He of all the chief's so free ; 
 Not a furrow on his brow, 
 
 Peace and plenty both had he. 
 Near him was his lovely daughter. 
 
 Merging into womanhood ; 
 Sweetest maiden of the nation, 
 
 Handsome, tall and proud she stood. 
 
 Oft' she wandered in the valleys, 
 
 Or beneath the whispering pines ; 
 Sat alone beneath their shadows. 
 
 Weaving mats by trellis vines ; 
 List'ning to the sweet, wild echoes. 
 
 As they sound, rebound again, 
 Bearing man}^ a strange, sweet murmur, 
 
 From the woodland and the glen. 
 
 Then sh'd upward start to listen 
 
 To that woodland's haunted moan ; 
 (But no sound in all the vale. 
 
 For on mvstic wings they'd flown. 
 Then a little shade of sadness. 
 
 Fleeting as the gauzy clouds. 
 Which the gentle zephyrs hasten. 
 
 Would her dimpled face enshroud. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 73 
 
 Thus her Hfe had always been 
 
 One bright, cloudless, summer day, 
 For no chilling dews of night. 
 
 Were permitted there to play. 
 All who knew her loved her well. 
 
 She her father's pet and pride ; 
 One had loved her, one had wished her 
 
 To become his happy bride. 
 
 He was tall and handsome, too, 
 
 Of piercing eye and tender tread. 
 And amid the hunter's grounds, 
 
 Oft' a band of warriors lead. 
 And when the darksome earth was spread. 
 
 With her tangled mats of green, 
 Often they at close of day, 
 
 Wandering thro' the vale were seen. 
 
 But the youthful maid so shy, 
 
 Loved the solitude alone ; 
 She was often by you, river. 
 
 When the suiumer day had flown. 
 Thus one eve at set of sun. 
 
 While she sat in idle dreams, 
 Looking out upon you, river. 
 
 Smiling at your dancing beams, 
 
74 A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Laughing at the silvered fishes, 
 
 Shooting thro' the ripHng wave ; 
 Peeping o'er the heaps of pebbles, 
 
 Glitt'ring in the sunset lave. 
 Gentl}^ shudd'ring at the tone, 
 
 Of the distant cooing dove 
 Sending to his far-off mate, 
 
 Reverberating notes of love. 
 
 Some low noise stopped her dreaming, 
 
 She leaped upward from the spot 
 Bounding o'er the stony steep, 
 
 Soon she reached her father's cot ; 
 There she saw a stranger weary 
 
 Drop beside their vine-wreathed door. 
 Lisping words so faint and dreary 
 
 None could guess the news they bore. 
 
 Qiiick as thought the maiden flew 
 
 To a cool spring near their home. 
 And its waters swiftly drew 
 
 For the stranger who had come ; 
 Thus refreshed, he glanced around 
 
 O'er the strange expectant crowd, 
 Till his eye on Silence rested. 
 
 Next upon the maiden proud. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 75 
 
 Then he spoke in accents low : 
 
 " I am faint and tired now ; 
 Will you let me stay till- morn? 
 
 Then I'll tell you of my vow — 
 ril tell why Tve wandered. 
 
 Wandered many a lonely mile." 
 Silence stood in calmness still, 
 
 Looking at him all the while. 
 
 Then he smiled and meekly said, 
 
 " You may slumber here to-night, 
 Eat and rest awhile with us, 
 
 'Till to-morrow's sun gives light," 
 So they gave him food and drink. 
 
 Gave him of the best the}^ had ; 
 Made a bed of choicest mats. 
 
 For the stranger, pale and sad. 
 
 Morning dawned on roseat wings, ■ 
 
 Spread them on the landscape fair ; 
 But she brought no balm from Gilead, 
 
 For the stranger lying there. 
 Silence watched beside his bed, 
 
 Ever ready to supply, 
 Bathed his parched and fevered brow, 
 
 Oft' he heaved a pit^nng sigh. 
 
76 A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 And his daughter, tender maid. 
 
 Brought each day a cooling draft. 
 From the pearly, mossy spring 
 
 Where the purest breezes waft ; 
 And she gathered sweetest flowers 
 
 By a sparkling little brook, 
 And her simple, tiny treasures. 
 
 Each morn to the stranger took. 
 
 Week by week he lingered on, 
 
 Thro' the sultry summer da^^s, 
 In the Indian's quiet home, 
 
 Where the whisp'ring zephyr plays ; 
 But the maiden's tender care, 
 
 And the watchful eye of Silence, 
 With the hand of God to spare. 
 
 Saved him Irom death's vi'lence. 
 
 Once again he breathed the air 
 
 Of a bright September day, 
 For without the white tent door, 
 
 He was smiling happily. 
 Slowly he and Silence went, 
 
 By the cypress scented hedge. 
 Rested on the mossy banks, 
 
 Near your rapid river's edge. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 77 
 
 Silence was the first to speak — 
 
 " Pale-face, j^ou have suffered pain ; 
 Why have you this wild vale sought. 
 
 Came vou o'er the rolling main?"' 
 "Yes, I came from a distant clime. 
 
 Far awav o'er the white sea foam, 
 Where the blue Rhine sweeps along. 
 
 Is mv native land and home." 
 
 " I grew tired of my lot. 
 
 Vowed the wide world I would roam ; 
 So I left the happy spot, 
 
 Left m}' happy, peaceful home. 
 Drawn by strange deluding hopes 
 
 Chased by phantoms from m}- view ; 
 I am wearied now of life — 
 
 May I live here now with you? " 
 
 Then in pity Silence said : 
 
 " Pale-face, you may stay with me, 
 You may make my tent thy home. 
 
 And in peace Til live with thee ; 
 Every day shall be the same 
 
 While the spring and summer fades 
 And the yellow autumn days 
 
 Die in winter-ridged shades." 
 
78 A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Now again the fruitful harvest, 
 
 Many moons had passed away 
 Since the thrilling conversation 
 
 Of the two that autumn day ; 
 Man}^ strange exciting scenes 
 
 In the camp within the vale, 
 When the dewy morn' grew bright, 
 
 When the twilight glimmered pale. 
 
 And of all the wildwood tribes, 
 
 Neath the oval skies of blue ; 
 None more happy, none more good. 
 
 Than this band so tried and true. 
 Every wild man of that nation, 
 
 Seemed to reverence the stranger, 
 And he loved them for their kindness. 
 
 For they cared for him in danger. 
 
 Often" Silence sat at eve, 
 
 Smoking as in days of old ; 
 Thinking of the pale-faced stranger, 
 
 And his noble subjects bold. 
 Often he and Silence went, 
 
 Thro' the wild, secluded glade. 
 While the strangrer told him stories, 
 
 'Neath the cedar's waving shade. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 79 
 
 Told him how De Soto voyaged, 
 
 O'er the blue and briny deep ; 
 How that fancy's faint delusion, 
 
 Lulled him into death's dark sleep. 
 Told him how that fleeting shadows, 
 
 Ever lured him on and on 
 To the winding Mississippi, 
 
 Then his hollow hopes were gone. 
 
 Of this cruel mate Pizarro, 
 
 How he sacked and pillaged towns. 
 How he left the natives mouldering. 
 
 In their sunken, grassy mounds. 
 How he burned to death the Inca, 
 
 For the gold he hoped to find. 
 How he threw the dead and dying, 
 
 To the raging southern wind. 
 
 Pale-face and the maiden lingered, 
 
 Oft' beside the cottage door. 
 Where he told her of his childhood, 
 
 In the happy days of yore. 
 Often when the sunset roamer. 
 
 And the fields were richly laden, 
 Adown the glen the3^'d steal away 
 
 Pale-face and the dark-eyed maiden, 
 
8o A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 They'd watch the pale and burnished clouds, 
 
 Melting with gold ; 
 Watch them double, threbly o'er. 
 
 In many a strange-like fold ; 
 Or sit beside a gilded stream. 
 
 Where the softest daisies grow, 
 Then the pla^iul breeze would whisper, 
 
 Something very strange and low. 
 
 Whisper to the hovering brooklet. 
 
 Whisper to the trees ; 
 And the tender words were gathered, 
 
 And borne up by the breeze. 
 Thus joyous, happy hours. 
 
 On fleeting wings passed by ; 
 But within the sweetest flowers, 
 
 Piercing thorns in ambush lie. 
 
 Pale-face loved this handsome maid. 
 
 And he told her father true ; 
 Silence, sorrowing, shook his head— 
 
 " She can ne'er be given to you ; 
 See you not yon handsome youth. 
 
 Of our own wild race and tried. 
 He has wished the maiden long, 
 
 To become his loving bride. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 '" She was given when an infant 
 To that wild man of this nation, 
 So the paleface must not look 
 
 For another's right donation." 
 Mournfully the stranger looked. 
 Mournfully he said : 
 " I have hoped^ — but now, vain hopes 
 In my breaking heart are dead. 
 
 " Silence thou hast alwa^'s been 
 
 Ever true and kind to me. 
 But this burden is too great. 
 
 Let me part in peace from thee ; 
 But before I leave forever. 
 
 Let me to the maiden speak, 
 Let me thank her for her kindness 
 
 Ere mv home again I seek." 
 
 Silence heaved a heavy sigh, 
 
 Not a happ}^ sigh of yore, 
 Not so happ}' as the eve 
 
 When the stranger neared his door 
 But he kindly spoke again. 
 
 Said it with a moistened eye : 
 " Pale-face you may speak to her, 
 
 Speak a kindly word — good-bye." 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Then he to the river went, 
 
 Where he knew he'd find the maid — 
 Found her culHng sweetest flowers 
 
 'Neath the rock-chft''s quivering shade. 
 " See," she said, " wliat beauteous boughs 
 
 I have found by coming here ; " 
 Stopping short, she scanned his face, 
 
 Saw the trembhng, bhnding tear. 
 
 So he quickly told her all, 
 
 Told her he had loved in vain ; 
 Bade her kindly think of him. 
 
 When far o'er the rolling main. 
 Bade her live in peace the same, 
 
 Live as sweetly as before ; 
 Live as bird-like and as free. 
 
 Ere he reached their cottage door. 
 
 Long she watched that fading form 
 
 That had torn itself away, 
 'Til the dusky eve grew dark 
 
 And took the place of waning day. 
 There alone her heart was breaking, 
 
 'Til a slender wood nymph shy. 
 Rose to watch her while she mourned. 
 
 Rose to hear her rueful cry. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Thus the n3rmph in sorrow spake, 
 
 "What ill-fated hour came, 
 Robbed thee of thy purest flower. 
 
 Robbed thee of thy happiest claim? 
 Surely some ill fate has come. 
 
 For the blue-eyed violets weep. 
 Weep 'till all their beauty's gone ; 
 
 They'r bending o'er the stony steep. 
 
 " And the laughing brook is sad. 
 
 Where the weeping willows hang ; 
 And the vine-clad hills now stand, 
 
 Lonely where the wild birds sang. 
 And the moaping river now 
 
 Tears asunder flag and turf; 
 Throws the angry froth around, 
 
 Where the serges break the serf." 
 
 But she turned her streaming eyes. 
 
 And lo ! their cot within the wood, 
 By the tall and waving pine. 
 
 In its desolation stood. 
 And her white lips slowly moved, 
 
 But what e're the parting ; 
 None can tell, as none e're knew. 
 
 For the w^ailing n3^mph ne'er heard. 
 
84 A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Then the maiden clasped her hands, 
 
 Gave a quick and flying leap. 
 From the great, gray, rugged clifl". 
 
 Hanging o'er the gloomy deep. 
 All was still ; naught was heard, 
 
 Save the closing water's mock. 
 And the cruel night wind's singing, 
 
 A legend of the Indian's Rock. 
 
 Commerce, Mo., 1871. 
 
IN MEMOIUAM. 
 
 LINES TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER. 
 
 ^EN years in heaven, darling mother, thou 
 hast been ; 
 Ten years thou hast walked the pearly- 
 streets within 
 The New Jerusalem above, 
 The city of God's eternal love, 
 W-ith friends of high and humble birth 
 Ye knew in days of yore upon the earth ; 
 How the blissful smiles light their happy 
 
 faces ! 
 How pure heaven's unchanging love erases 
 Earth's distinctive, undeviating traces 
 Of her children born in high and lowly 
 places. 
 
 Methinks, O darling mother, in heaven's 
 gilded sunlight 
 
86 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 How beautifully thou and thy fair-winged 
 friends to-night 
 Are walking the gold-paved streets 
 In the city's calm retreats, 
 
 Passing and repassing up and down the 
 pearly strands 
 
 Of life's eternal river, list'ning to th' heaven- 
 appointed minstrel bands 
 
 That play their heaven-instructed hymns 
 of praise 
 
 Upon the celestial plains always ; 
 
 How sweet, O, darling mother, to live up 
 there 
 
 Among thy kith and kindred angels fair. 
 
 Ten years ! How long to us, how short to 
 
 thee ! 
 For every day on halcyon wings so glad 
 and free 
 Perchance away ye lightly glide, 
 Some wanderer home to guide. 
 How oft' in glad surprise ye find some well 
 
 remembered friend, 
 For every day th' earth her wanderers 
 homeward send. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 87 
 
 How oft', no doubt, ye meet them in th' 
 
 sacred portals fair, 
 Just ushering into th' royal fields up there. 
 Methinks I hear in thy soft low voice a 
 
 " zv el come home!'" 
 Then ye turn again th' elysian fields of 
 
 heaven to roam. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 LINES TO THE MEMORY OF CLARA A. DUNN. 
 
 OUSIN Clara thou art gone, 
 To the realms of the blest, 
 ^^^^And the sweet, angelic songs, 
 Lull thy wearied soul to rest. 
 There within the courts of God, 
 
 With thy angel plumage on, 
 Very happy now thou art ; 
 
 Tho' faintest joys of heaven dawn. 
 For in that grand and beauteous land, 
 
 Where thou shalt forever dwell, 
 The happiness that each day brings. 
 No human tongue can tell. 
 
 Ages, bright progressive ages. 
 On fleeting wings will roll ; 
 
 And still within thy home on high. 
 The love of God will thrill thy soul. 
 
IN MEMORIAM, 89 
 
 That love which in thy dying hour, 
 
 Like a golden sunbeam fell, 
 And dropped as a soothing balm, 
 
 Down in the heart's deep well. 
 It fell like the silvery dew, 
 
 That comes in the stillness of night ; 
 It cheered and revived thee, when droop- 
 ing and dying. 
 
 Like an angel of heavenl}- light. 
 
 Earh' in thy youthful days, 
 
 Thy soul to God was given ; 
 Ye early strove to gain his love, 
 
 And sought a home in heaven ; 
 He sealed thee for his own. 
 
 And early called for thee ; 
 And on thee bountifully bestowed, 
 
 His love and charity. 
 His choicest gems and best 
 
 Of all the Christian virtues, the beauty 
 and the pride ; 
 These He freely gave to thee. 
 
 As a monitor and guide. 
 Vincennes, Ind., 1876. 
 
LISTENING AND WATCHING. 
 
 E'RE listening to the thunder roll, 
 
 Thro' th' sullen clouds ; 
 We watch th' lightnings tear. 
 The sky's gray folded shrouds. 
 We're listening to the soft, low dripping, 
 
 Of th' rain upon th' rose leaves ; 
 We watch them bend and tremble, 
 Neath th' dribble from th' eaves. 
 
 We're listening to th' light winds, 
 
 Mourning thro' th' ferns ; 
 We watch them bowing back and forth. 
 
 As a wave o'er each returns. 
 We watch the foaming billows. 
 
 Upward rise and swell ; 
 As they greet th' silvered streamlets 
 
 Tinklincr thro' the shadv dell. 
 
• LISTENING AND WATCHING. 
 
 We're listening, but we do not hear, 
 
 The humble songs of love ; 
 From throats of feathered songsters, 
 
 Wafting on the breeze above. 
 But we'er watching and we see them, 
 
 Huddling in the shady nooks, 
 Looking down with piercing eye, 
 
 O'er the babblincr brooks. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 LINES TO THE MEMORY OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 
 
 " Go suflfer, be ground in the mill of God until your spirit sliiues in the 
 polish of affliction." 
 
 ^^§UFFERING patiently without a murmur, 
 ^^^ He thro' th' summer la}^ 
 
 *^^^^ But when the bright September winds 
 Began their play 
 His polished spirit shone with a brightness 
 
 Not of earth. 
 Soon the Father called : " Come higher, 
 thou son 
 
 Of noble birth." 
 Th' nation's peaceful midnight slumbers 
 
 Were unbroken ; 
 Th' busy flight of angels to and from the 
 earth 
 
 Gave no token 
 Of the tremblings and the heart-aches. 
 Of the sorrow 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 93 
 
 That should settle o'er her like a gloomy pall 
 
 On the morrow. 
 Ere th' millions were fairh^ roused from 
 night's 
 
 Entrancing fold, 
 While yet the king of glory was trimming 
 
 All th' east in gold, 
 Lo ! the stars and stripes at half-mast hung 
 
 All o'er the land ; 
 The American eagle had unplumed his wings 
 
 Upon th' strand ; 
 The sable plumes of night their shadows 
 
 Seem'd to sway 
 'Mid th' drapings of th' heay^^ folds of crape, 
 
 Altho' 'tis day ; 
 Pulsating sounds trembled on th' refreshing- 
 Morning air, 
 Wafting o'er th' face of nature, smiling 
 
 So beautifully and fair. 
 Heart-rending tidings, th' quivering wires 
 
 To th' millions bear ; 
 Th' bells are tolling, tolling, tolling. 
 
 Sadly tolling everywhere. 
 
94 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Th' nat"on, white with fear, asks with- 
 trembling 
 
 And abated breath : 
 "What mean the tolling of the bells?" 
 
 Then answered : " Death ! " 
 Like an arrow sped th' news from shore 
 to shore, 
 
 From plain to plain ; 
 Th' nation woke to weep, refusing comfort 
 
 For her illustrious slain. 
 All th' north, all th' south, all th' east 
 
 And all th' west 
 Bewail the loss of their noble chief, tho' 
 they know 
 
 He has gone to rest ; 
 Tho' they know he has responded to th' call, 
 Heard th' Father sa}^, 
 " Well done, enter thou into the joys of thy 
 Lord 
 
 This day.''' 
 
 Petersburg, Ind., Sept. 20, 1881. 
 
LAKE MICHIGAN. 
 
 HOU art stretched out, O, silent lake, 
 So like a deep, lone rounded grave, 
 I see the sun's last rosy gleam. 
 Die within thy distant wave. 
 Far away the shadows gather, 
 
 And they on th}^ oval waters lie ; 
 Where they seem to upward rise, 
 To meet, to greet, to kiss the sky. 
 
 Netted clouds of filmy white and gray, 
 
 Are above thee swiftly rolling to and fro ; 
 They'r folding o'er thee back and forth, 
 
 Much like banks of drifted snow. 
 Light winds kiss their airy forms, 
 
 And lift them up still higher ; 
 Ever restless, sometimes drooping, 
 
 Yet they never seem to tire. 
 
 'Tis twilight now, and from a window 
 Of the dashing, crashing car, 
 
96 LAKE MICHIGAN. 
 
 I look on thee, O beauteous lake ! 
 
 Sometimes so near thee, then away so far. 
 For oft' the thick green forests hide thee, 
 
 From my eager searching view ; 
 Tall, dark cliffs, too, intervene. 
 
 To vale thy gorgeous rolling blue. 
 
 Beautiful thou art to-night, O lake. 
 
 Sublimely rolling wild and grand, 
 While millions of mystic starry eyes 
 
 Penetrate thy silvered strand. 
 And throw into thy glass like waves 
 
 Their slender threads of glistening gold 
 Which seem to tangle in thy depths. 
 
 Like the meshy seaweeds filmy fold. 
 
 Thy wild sublimit}-, O, silent lake. 
 
 Could I but onl}' paint ! 
 But, ah ! should I make one attempt, 
 
 'Twould only prove a feint ; 
 For look now at that silent moon. 
 
 Fairy-like slip from yon silvered cloud, 
 That she may wrap thy heaving bosom 
 
 In a gold enameled shroud. 
 
LAKE MICHIGAN. 97 
 
 Multitudes of white-winged barks, 
 
 Skim lightly o'er thy billows, 
 Where sea birds in their nightly flight, 
 
 Hurry from thee to the willows, 
 That line thy restless foamy edge. 
 
 Where heaps of many-colored shells 
 Are thrown ; when ere a rolling wave 
 
 Recedes away ; then upward swells. 
 
 Steepled cities with their thousand lights. 
 
 Illuminate thy waves to-night ; 
 And lacy clouds above thee drape the 
 vaulted dome. 
 
 They gauze-like hang so pure and white ; 
 Or swiftly pass, make room for others. 
 
 Of varied form and hue, 
 That wave like tinted tissue paper. 
 
 Up in the azure blue. 
 Up within yon airy height. 
 
 They're waving flake-like on th' breeze ; 
 Up above the towering hilltops. 
 
 Up above the trees. 
 
 I feel th}" awe-inspiring grandeur, 
 
 Gentlv steals my thoughts away, 
 4 
 
98 ODE TO THE U'INDS. 
 
 And to heaven they sweetly ghde, 
 While I look on thee and pray. 
 
 So roll thee on, O, wondrous lake, 
 While I my journey still persue ; 
 
 Too soon thou wilt perhaps be severed. 
 Forever from mj^ view. 
 Milwaukee, Wi%, 1875. 
 
 ODE TO THE WINDS. 
 
 'LOW ye zephyrs thro' the willows, 
 Gentlv soothe the restless billows ; 
 •"^Gently touch th' aeolian lyre, 
 And it's silver chords inspire, 
 With melodious songs of love, 
 From the tuneful winds above. 
 Sway the beauteous waxen vine. 
 Curling 'round the tender pine ; 
 Touch with care the radiant bowers, 
 Filled with rare and lovely flowers ; 
 Ere ye flit by vale and mountain, 
 Dropp'g their essence in the fountain, 
 Let not thy fragrant breath be lost. 
 Ere ve kiss the fever tossed. 
 
"WE KNOW NOT WHAT WE SHALL BE." 
 
 'Jf Ik^j ^^^' y^ wise sages, 
 
 ?%. V 9:^ What shall we do thro' endless ages ? 
 
 ^^§^ urn ' • • u ui 
 
 ^^*^^"'-^*^ Will memoiy s imperishable pages 
 
 Compose the books that may engage us, 
 And will the literature there found 
 Afford one fount of joy — will peace abound? 
 Or will regret, remorse, unhappiness re- 
 sound 
 And throw their cold and cheerless shades 
 around ? 
 
 May we not hope that memory's pages. 
 In the grand progressive ages. 
 Will afford one fount of joy ? 
 Then let our words without alloy 
 Be purely written on the tablet free. 
 For " we know not what we shall be." 
 
 As Gabriel winged from world to world 
 And the banner of the Lord unfurled, 
 May we not hope to swiftly fly 
 
lOO WE KNO"W NOT WHAT WE SHALL BE. 
 
 In the intinite regions of space beyond the 
 
 sky, 
 And speed along thro' circling worlds 
 
 above, 
 Bearing'wondrous messages of God's love, 
 And the beauties of triumphal heaven scan 
 While bearing God's answer to the prayer 
 
 of fallen man? 
 
 We are told we shall be like him 
 WhenUn the paradise of God a seraphim ; 
 That other scenes no mortal eye can see, 
 Will ope' to our vision when " clothed with 
 humility," 
 " We know not what we shall be." 
 
 One thing we know, we never die. 
 When once from earth we fly ; 
 And as our hearts were purely wrought, 
 And by the blood of Jesus bought ; 
 Then spotless as the blooms 
 Of flowerets that decorate our earthly tombs, 
 May our lives be 
 Equal to any emergency, 
 For in the great eternity, 
 " We know not what we shall be." 
 
 Vincennes, Ind., 1876. 
 
HOPE. 
 
 pITH the first dawn of reason, hope has 
 its birth ; 
 And sweetly it carries us up from earth, 
 To revel in heavenly lands above ; 
 And live midst the scenes we cherish and 
 
 love ; 
 In all our adversities, troubles and pain, 
 Hope whispers,"' may be for thy gain." 
 Then the light zeph^-r breezes gently fall, 
 To soften the gloomy pall ; 
 'Tis a birthright given by the god of love. 
 And sweetly it comes like a carrier dove, 
 To young and old with a message of cheer, 
 Dispelling all fear, drying the tear. 
 The prisoner down in his lonesome cell. 
 Still hopes that the morrow may tell 
 Some strange stor}^ which yet mav relieve, 
 He hopes that the morrow may bring a re- 
 prieve. 
 
i02 HOPE. 
 
 The sire whose locks are as white as the 
 
 snows, 
 Tho' death's air pierces, his bosom glows, 
 With a hope that Aurora may bring 
 Healing balms laid in her plumaged wing. 
 O, why should the aged to that syren song 
 Lend a listening ear, after listening long? 
 'Tis because that fair monitor gently brings 
 Joyfulness perched on her beautiful wings, 
 For hope like a sunbeam enters his soul. 
 As an angel of light from the heavenly 
 
 goal. 
 Hope darts like an arrow thro' the vale of 
 
 death. 
 And soothes the brow from her perfumed 
 
 breath ; 
 Why wonder we then that all should cling. 
 So closelv to this fairy thing. 
 Since far to etherial lands of mirth. 
 Sweet hope carries us up from earth. 
 Vincennes, IncL, 1877. 
 
REPRESENTATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 ROVED thro' Representations fair halls, 
 I saw floral wreaths hung on her mystical 
 walls ; 
 
 While this fairy-like being at an easel in- 
 clined, 
 
 Her etherial canvas a coronal entwined ; 
 
 The canvas I saw so beautifully fringed, 
 
 Seemed easily imprinted, dinted or tinged, 
 
 And as by an electric stroke the picture 
 was done. 
 
 Ere I had conceived it was fairly begun ; 
 
 And immediately she flew thro' an access- 
 ible door 
 
 To Memory's chambers on the floral wreath 
 bore, 
 
 That to Memorv, her twin sister, she mi^-ht 
 convey 
 
 The beautiful pictures and see her obey 
 
 The law of recognition, and happily array 
 
I04 REPRESENTATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 The bright life scenes she'd wrought that 
 
 day. 
 Then back thro' her secret and intricate 
 
 door 
 To her easel and canvas she tripped o'er 
 
 the floor ; 
 As she passed in and out of Memory's hall, 
 I heard not e'en her gliding footstep fall ; 
 As she passed thro' doors, so light and fair, 
 I looked for them, but found none there. 
 So intrinsically fine were they. 
 But she who is designed to find them may. 
 Thro' her obscure halls I wandered all day, 
 Saw numberless pictures folded away 
 And veiled, as it were, by the corrosion of 
 
 time, 
 Passively awaiting some festival chime 
 To awaken or startle their slumber, 
 Then to be borne without number 
 By Representation to Memory's dwelling, 
 Multitudinous messages telling. 
 While Memory, a fairy-like being decoys, 
 A medium, language, she at once employs ; 
 The words she sends are marvelous to hear, 
 
REPRESENTATION AND MEMORY. I05 
 
 As they swiftly and accurately come to 
 
 the ear. 
 Bye and bye the pictures are folded, 
 Sent back to the chambers where they 
 
 were molded, 
 And Memory seemingly does forget. 
 But Representation embraces them yet ; 
 Ah, Memory ! tho' treacherous as ages, 
 Thy sister holds wondrous imprinted pages, 
 Which she is ever ready to present to 3^ou, 
 When acting elements stir them anew. 
 Lift their gauze-like canvas to her view ; 
 These faculties of the soul sublime and true • 
 Are founts from which we sip sweetest dew 
 Or 'drink from them bitter waters too. 
 
CHARITY. . 
 
 HARITY falls like a golden sunbeam, 
 Wk Down in the heart's deep well ;' 
 ""^ O, that it was the chief motive power, 
 The course of mankind to impel. 
 For pure and unsullied as the silvery dew, 
 
 That comes in the stillness of night ; 
 It cheers and revives the drooping and 
 dying, 
 Like an angel of heavenly light. 
 O, that this beautiful, heaven-born principle, 
 
 As 'tis of Christian graces the pride 
 Were in human actions, 
 
 The day star, the mainspring and guide ; 
 Then a new and blissful era. 
 Would dawn o'er our race 
 And we harmoniously would see, 
 Our Sevior's lovinsf face. 
 
AUTUMN LEAVES. 
 
 SHE sott amber light is gently thrown 
 ^^^1^ O'er the variegated dead leaves 
 
 While they beautifully wave as thy fall 
 Down 'neath the low drooping eaves ; 
 While deep lights fall in a darker shade 
 On the tangled grass and the silvered 
 leaves, 
 Which too-ether twine like a ruined mass 
 Of damp and moulding sheaves. 
 
 On occasional turfs of the greensward lie 
 
 The boughs that have fallen from above. 
 Still dressed in the robes of the summer. 
 
 Still clinging to the forms they. love. 
 To die with the brow^n and gold-tinted 
 leaves, 
 
 To crumble and decay in the dust ; 
 'Tis so with our Hves, we gladh^pass o'er, 
 
 With kindred spirits, to be numbered 
 with the just. 
 
I08 AUTUMN LEAVES. 
 
 How the heart swells with ceaseless emo- 
 tion 
 As we see the soft light melting away, 
 While night with her sable plume comes 
 
 All decked in a starry array ; 
 'Tis the great art galleries of God's own 
 work 
 Which we behold in the twilight gra}^ 
 And thrillingly beautiful lessons we learn 
 From the falling leaves of an autumn 
 day. 
 
 Vincenncs, Ind., September , 1875. 
 
SNOW-FLAKES. 
 
 jiljraANY life pictures I frame just now 
 l^^l^ From the millions of snow-flakes 
 waving down, 
 With an apparent vow on each icy brow 
 
 To desert forever the clouds that frown, 
 For there's no sunbeams in the air}- dome. 
 
 No genial rays are nigh ; 
 They've beckoned good-bye for a time on 
 high 
 And have gone elsewhere to-day to roam. 
 
 Many life lessons I learn this day 
 
 As I watch the flakes in seeming mirth. 
 Winding their way from the clouds of gray 
 
 Down from heaven to earth ; 
 Some are*falling from the oval above, 
 
 Feather-like falling o'er tower and lea, 
 Or in fearless glee on the turbid sea 
 
 They melt and with the deep sea rove. 
 
no SNOW-FLAKES. 
 
 Some of the lessons I learn are these, 
 
 That human life is as pure as the snow, 
 Ere it is tossed by the breeze into the seas 
 
 To be lost in their ebb and flow. 
 Each tiake to me represents some life ; 
 
 Those that fall quickly and innocently die. 
 Are those who ne'er sigh 'neath the blue 
 vaulted sky, 
 
 Or blend in this cold worldly strife. 
 
 Some flakes kiss the damp bosom of earth. 
 
 But too tender for such an embrace 
 They draw but one breath in the land of 
 their birth ; 
 They only touch once the swardland's 
 bronzed face 
 And wither and sink in her clay. 
 
 Others, more fortunate, in the fern trees 
 are thrown 
 Where some bird has flown secure and 
 lone, 
 'Til warm southern winds cofne there 
 to play. 
 Or sunbeams ferret them out from their 
 nooks 
 
SNOW-FLAKES . 1 1 1 
 
 And send them dripping with a low sweet 
 chime 
 Thro' rocW clefts to the winding brooks 
 
 To be drawn up again in a purer clime. 
 Then chaste as the snow-flakes may our 
 lives be, 
 That where'er we may chance to fall, 
 Either on the brown earth or in the blue 
 sea, 
 We may be drawn up again at the Sav- 
 ior's call. 
 
 Vincennex, Ltd., December IS, 1870. 
 
EVENING. 
 
 ^HE radiant ray of departing day 
 
 Grows pale as it creeps o'er the lawn. 
 And the sk}^ of blue casts a deeper hue 
 As the mists of the niijht gather on. 
 Dazzlingf and brio'ht is the luminous light, 
 
 While it seemingly lingers to sa}' 
 To the brightest gems on their slender 
 stems : 
 ^ I'm passing from earth away." 
 
 The flowers bloom, with a sweet perfume. 
 
 And embalm the evening air, 
 That floats as light, as the shadows of night, 
 
 When they drape all nature with care. 
 The colors die in the roseate sk}^, 
 
 And the green trees' shades are deep, 
 Where the climbing vine, their boughs en- 
 twine,) 
 
 To grace the rugged steep. 
 
EVENING. 113 
 
 The evening breeze, bend the cypress trees. 
 
 While like some wandering star. 
 The gauzv wings of the birds that sings. 
 
 May be seen on the free winds far. 
 And the thinest wave, of insects lave. 
 
 As they skim o'er the crystal lake, 
 Whose waters shine so grandly sublime. 
 
 As if with the beauties of eve to partake. 
 
 See ! the green sea shell, the surges swell 
 
 And it floats o'er the rolling main, 
 To reflect the light of the stars of night 
 
 When they peep thro' the blue mist 
 again. 
 And the light of some home o'er the roll- 
 ing foam, 
 
 Gleams joyously, fearlessly and bright. 
 While the soft clouds lie in the far off' sky, 
 
 And melt at the approach of night. 
 
 The gurcrlingf rills from the distant hills 
 
 c> c> <D 
 
 Are sparkling in the last sunbeam, . 
 And the moaning tide by the chafed 
 ocean's side 
 Darts up like a golden gleam. 
 
114 EVENING. 
 
 While the purple lights die in the western 
 sky, 
 And remind us that the day is done ; 
 Then we muse with tears as we think of 
 the years 
 That have passed like a day and gone. 
 
 But when we land o'er on the golden shore 
 
 And have left this world of strife, 
 We'll ever be blest in the land of sweet rest, 
 
 And drink the pure waters of life. 
 And the God of love, from the heavens 
 above, 
 
 Will watch us in the twilight gray. 
 And a golden crown we'll wear with renown, 
 
 If we the commands of the Savior obey. 
 
ODE TO A BUTT EB FLY. 
 
 ii^EAUTIFUL brown butterfly, 
 MpMWith brilhant and prominent 63-6, 
 amr<iu-Nir4 ^jth scalloped wing painted in crimson 
 and ijreen. 
 
 Painted in weaves like the shells of Saline. 
 
 Why motionless hang ye on the walls of 
 my room, 
 
 Like a prisoner in sorrow and gloom ? 
 
 Motionless all the day long ye have hung, 
 
 Not a musical note have ye sung. 
 
 Whv speechless and lifeless hang ye around, 
 
 Not e'en from thy wing a fluttering sound. 
 
 The velvet on the tblds of thy wing, 
 
 To m}" touch on eider down would cling, 
 
 Else I would lift thee and lay thee in the 
 
 sunbeams. 
 That naught might ere mar thy bright and 
 
 happy dreams. 
 
Il6 ODE TO A BUTTERFLY, 
 
 But if ye be sleeping 3^our last sleep on 
 earth, 
 
 Why molest, wh}^ not rest, as on the first 
 
 morn of your birth? 
 •Then fondly hang there thou beautiful one, 
 
 'Til thy fanciful life on earth be undone ; 
 
 Then down from the snowy white wall. 
 
 Thou wilt lightly and noislessly fall ; 
 
 Then Fll tenderly lift thee and lay thee 
 away. 
 
 Where the light winds of summer patheti- 
 cally play. 
 
THE CULPRIT. 
 
 ?HEN you scan this title-page 
 A problem solve, O, wondrous sage ! 
 t^kk^^ How could a boy in murder thus 
 engage ? 
 For he was scarcely eighteen years of age ; 
 A praying mother's petted boy, 
 He was her pride and joy. 
 They say his ancesters were good, 
 And he trained well in early childhood ; 
 Yet still young and pale and slender. 
 Of mellow eye and step most tender ; 
 A criminal within a prison ! 
 O, how with such could have crime arisen? 
 Those who knew him in his earher days 
 When he played in home's congenial rays, 
 Proclaim without alloy : 
 " He was a quiet, pleasant sort of boy." 
 How in the breast of one so manly and so 
 mild 
 
Il8 THE CULPRIT. 
 
 Could murder lodge, and with frantic hand 
 
 so wild 
 Plunge th' fatal dagger, as on that awful 
 
 night, 
 Into a fellow man and murder him outri^fht, 
 Since no hatred seemed to lurk 
 Ere he drew the deadly dirk? 
 When he to the ball-room went, 
 A slight reproof his victim sent. 
 Hear ye what the boy did say : 
 " I laughed and zvcnt azvay.'' 
 But later, when he chanced to meet 
 His fellow man upon the street, 
 In the gloom}^ silent night, 
 He slezv him! O, dispel the sight ! 
 And lo ! unexpected to the murdered man. 
 No thought of such a plan ; 
 O, how could one so gentle as to weep 
 Beside his mother — whom death had lulled 
 
 to sleep ; 
 Beside the grave so latel}^ made. 
 Beneath the willow's tangled shade. 
 Then how, and why came he. 
 This bov, a murderer to he? 
 
THE CULPRIT. H? 
 
 O, sages if ye can not speak, 
 
 And the truth ye now would seek, 
 
 I the fearless truth will tell. 
 
 How by a boyish hand, a victim fell : 
 
 A barbarous band dwells upon our border- 
 land, 
 
 Nay, in every nook and corner, e'en on 
 
 the ocean strand, 
 ' Whisky seller " the c//ie/ is named ; 
 
 He of all-the chief's so free and famed, 
 
 For his atrocious deeds ! 
 
 No mortal cry he heeds ; 
 
 His fettering coils that night he threw, 
 
 And into his mysterious net the boy he 
 drew, 
 
 And in its tangled meshes he held the 
 trembling boy ; 
 
 Made a demon out of a mother's pride and 
 
 joy- 
 
 The mother, sleeping in her grave 
 That night, no hand her son to save ; 
 No hand! O, what sins we do commit 
 When '^Whisky seller" we thus permit 
 To walk abroad, and murder openly and 
 free. 
 
I20 THE CULPRIT. 
 
 Still we enlightened claim to be. 
 
 Yet give a walking monster, hideous and 
 
 grim, 
 Free right to make a murderer out of him 
 For whom a pious mother prayed. 
 Who, if spared, his hand she might have 
 
 stayed. 
 Hourly "Whisky seller" thus cunfused, 
 And seemed thus much to be amused 
 That he a life so 3^oung and fair, 
 Could in his deadly traps ensnare 
 And hold him manj^ days and nights 
 Where the poisonous serpent bites, 
 'Til he was chained a demon, soon was he 
 Dark deeds to perpetrate in fearless glee. 
 O, hear ye what the culprit said 
 Ere in mid air he hung with the scaffol'd 
 
 dead. 
 This was his confession, hear every one I 
 
 pray : 
 " D?'mk and bad company have brought me 
 
 here to-day. 
 I had drank a good deal that night 
 Of beer and zvhtsky,'" thus he spoke outright. 
 
SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD. 121 
 
 " Whisky and had company 
 Have ruiuated niey 
 O that this demon's traffic — drink. 
 Would into oblivion, forever and forever 
 sink. 
 
 THE SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD. 
 
 ^^RE the advent of our Savior, 
 
 y^^ 
 
 Three hundred years or more, 
 
 ''"'^'^'^The nations strove for fame and glory, 
 They b<5wed to wood and stone and 
 gold and silver ore ; 
 And as they progressed in wealth and 
 luxury. 
 Their worshiped works were wonders. 
 But ah, alas, disolving time, 
 Every earthh^ wonder sunders. 
 
 The pyramids that stand. 
 
 As dead mementoes of the past, 
 
 In Egypt's silent glades 
 
 Alone survive time's withering blast ; 
 
122 SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD. 
 
 There they stand, unanswering yet the 
 multitudes, 
 
 That have hung for ages 
 Around their hieroglyphic walls, 
 
 Trying to read their cold and stony pages. 
 
 But time's relentless leveling hand, 
 
 Is ever smoothing down. 
 Even these Egyptian wonders ; 
 
 Behold the deeply furrowed frown 
 That hangs so like a gloomy pall 
 
 Around these strange mementoes of the 
 dead, 
 Where knelt, no doubt, the worshipers, 
 
 And there their humble pray'rs said. 
 
 The Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, 
 
 Raised to the memory of Caria's king 
 Twentv-two hundred vears afro. 
 
 Anthems still of a sister's love sing. 
 The fragments that have lain 
 
 In the museum of Britain man}^ a year 
 Tell of her anguish and of the temple 
 
 She built in memorv of a brother dear. 
 
seven wonders of the world. 12^ 
 
 The Statue of the Olympian Jupiter 
 
 Was built in Southern Greece, 
 In a radiant grove of th' father of th' gods, 
 
 Where Homer sang his song of th' wrath 
 of Achilles ; 
 'T was an image wrought of gold and ivory 
 
 By th' dreamy Greeks ; it sat upon a 
 cedar throne 
 Inlaid with gold ; 'twas sixty feet in height, 
 
 A masterpiece of Phidias alone. 
 
 At Epheslis THE Temple of Diana stood 
 
 Upon an elevated plain, 
 Commanding the royal harbor 
 
 And th' stately ships bounding o'er th' 
 rolling main. 
 The lonians two hundred twenty years 
 
 Labored on this temple of the dead ; 
 Up a flight of lofty marble steps to Diana's 
 shrine 
 
 Thev were b}- superstition led. 
 
 'Twas a temple built within a temple, 
 
 A roof of choicest cedar wood 
 Adorned with statuary 
 
 On columns of green jasper stood ; 
 
124 SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD. 
 
 In that temple of purest marble 
 
 Sat an image, the Diana, black as night — 
 
 A goddess hidden by a golden veil 
 From the kneeler's blinded sig-ht. 
 
 The gilded, glittering Colossus of Rhodes, 
 
 Built by the worshippers of the sun, 
 Loomed high above the sea-washed isle ; 
 
 'Twas built by Chares, the famous one ; 
 One hundred and tive feet it towered above 
 
 The Mediterranean's rolling blue 
 To th' shrine of th' image dedicated to th' 
 sun 
 
 The heathen worshippers drew. 
 
 The Pharos of Alexandrl\ 
 
 Was a lighthouse of white marble. 
 Built on the tranquil isle of Pharos, 
 
 Where the homesick mariner could 
 warble 
 Love's chantings softly low 
 
 When the ocean tossed and weary one 
 Was left in darkness on the sea 
 
 Whene'er the tempest hid the sun. 
 
SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD. I25 
 
 A king, to please his homesick queen, 
 
 The Hanging Gardens of Babylon 
 plann'd ; 
 These and her tripple walls 
 
 Became a wonder in the land. 
 Glazed and richly colored bricks 
 
 Glittered in the vast facades. 
 While upon her columns hung, 
 
 Pictures of th' royal cavalcades ; 
 The clash of arms, and their triumphant 
 march 
 
 In mosaic brilliancy shone fair ; 
 These and more upon her columns hung, 
 
 Th' pageantry of th' chace was there. 
 
 Babjdon's unhappy queen, 
 
 A Median princess born, 
 Long'd for her native hills and woodlands, 
 
 And waving fields of corn ; 
 Long'd for her lovely vales and mount'n 
 slopes. 
 
 That far beyond the plains of Babylon 
 lay ; 
 Tired of the splendor and confusions 
 
 Of royalty's continuous display, 
 
126 SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD, 
 
 She begged to sit once more by ber native 
 rills, 
 
 Winding 'mong the moss}^ rocks, 
 And listen to the twitt'ring birds, 
 
 In the pines and waving hemlocks. 
 
 For her the king the gardens plan'd, 
 
 That she again might rove at will, 
 To gather ferns from ofi'the cliff's. 
 
 Or sit beside some murmuring rill. 
 Swinging high upon the plane 
 
 On terraces of wood and stone, 
 Above the rolling Euphrates 
 
 The garden hung, solemn, grand and 
 lone. 
 
 The irrigating apparatus, 
 
 Hidden 'neate th' terraced walls. 
 Sent the misty spra}^ above 
 
 To cool th' royal summer halls ; 
 To bathe the' fragrant foliage. 
 
 To ripple down th' grassy vales, 
 In waving streamlets to the river. 
 
 Murmuring to th' zephvi- gales. 
 In all these wonders of the world, 
 
 The toiling nations old, 
 
THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN'S MOTHER. 1 27 
 
 Strove to carve their names 
 
 In silver, ivory, wood and stone and 
 gold. 
 From time immorial immortal man 
 
 Has yearned to be remembered by the 
 living 
 Ere he drops th' mortal coil, some trophy 
 Ever, to mother earth he's giving. 
 
 Petersburg, Ind., September, 1881. 
 
 THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN'S MOTHER. 
 
 " The old Lincoln farm " lies in Spencer county, Indiana. It 
 was a beautiful summer eve that we visited it. We scanned its 
 sunny slopes with more than ordinary interest, because we were 
 told it was the early home of Abraham Lincoln. It is large and 
 beautifully rolling. A few of the time-worn trees of an old 
 apple orchard, whose massive trunks were bending with age, still 
 remained standing near an old log house, which, we were told, 
 was partly bull', by Lincoln. On or near the farm, we found a few 
 graves, and among them the grave of one of the greatest and best 
 mothers of our fallen heroes. Mrs. Lincoln's remains lay in no 
 regular cemetery, where spiral domed and costly monuments rear 
 their lofty heads above honored dead. Nature alone adorned her 
 grave. We learn that General Veach has recently caused to be 
 erected there a monument with suitable inscriptions. The waving 
 
128 THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN'S MOTHER. 
 
 forest trees ; the beautiful green sod, with occasional knots of wild 
 flowers scattered around, and the cheerful songs of the birds in the 
 thick wild wood, all bespoke the jjurity and simplicity of the life 
 she lived on earth. The solemnity of the surroundings filled us 
 with a deep pathos, and were suggestive of the following lines, 
 which we have attributed to her memory : 
 
 O ancient pine or cedar tall, 
 
 Waves above her head ; 
 No costly flowers from oriel climes, 
 Their odorous leaves there shed ; 
 But stately boughs of oaken trees, 
 
 Bend above the dead. 
 And there the beautious wildwood flowers, 
 In summer bloom instead. 
 
 O'er her gave the wild ivy creeps. 
 
 And 'round the lonely hill. 
 Where the violets, in the spring, 
 
 Bloom beside the rill. 
 These form the deepest drapery, 
 
 For the lonely grave. 
 When the wild bird sing. 
 
 And there on light pinions wave. 
 
 The sighing winds a requiem sings. 
 For the aged one lying there, 
 
THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN S MOTHER. I 29 
 
 When morning plumes her roseate wings. 
 And spreads them o'er the hillside fair : 
 
 Or when the twilight fades, 
 And the silver crescent moon 
 
 Sheds there her mystic beams, 
 
 'Tis then the softest breeze sino-y a 
 mournful tune. 
 
 O, how^ the yielding shades 
 
 Come stealing there at eve. 
 When thfe twilight thrills the soul, 
 
 When the sun begins to leave. 
 Perchance she often w^andered 
 
 By that green and lonely hillside 
 When the last fair days of spring 
 
 Did into summer glide. 
 
 There weaving strange fantastic thoughts. 
 
 Of a glorious future state, 
 Where no earthly coil can fetter 
 
 When we've passed through heaven's gate. 
 A grand eventful age has fled, 
 
 Since from earth she went awav, 
 Yet time marks not upon her brow, 
 
 She has passed unto the perfect day. 
 5 
 
THE LAST EVE OF MY SCHOOL DAYS. 
 
 AST eve, the opera brilliantly shone, 
 Th' crowd in th' circle and galleries 
 were grand, 
 While behind the glittering scenes. 
 
 The orchestra, that heart-thrilling band. 
 Played beautiful, low interludes. 
 
 That trembled and melted away 
 As a drama of life ; 
 
 Then died in a pathetical lay. 
 
 'Twas hushed ! Murdock ,the gifted, came 
 forth ; 
 From Sheakespeare, Milton and Dante 
 he read, 
 From Homer and Moore, and the magical 
 songs 
 Seem'd wafting on the air from th' dead. 
 Comedy and tragedy sparkled and flashed 
 From the tongue of the reader ; 
 
THE LAST EVE OF MY SCHOOL DAYS. I3; 
 
 The choicest creation of imagery shone, 
 In the magnetic lace of the leader. 
 
 While listening to th' beautiful songs of 
 th' dead, 
 Methought, my school-life now happily 
 ends ; 
 To-morrow I pass beyond this stage. 
 So farewell school days, farewell 
 friends ; 
 I'm pondering o'er th' glittering scenes^ 
 
 While waiting for th' dashing train. 
 And Fm writing them down in my heart. 
 That I may liye them over again. 
 
 In memor}^ only, I will live them o'er. 
 
 For the real drama is past ; 
 Tho' I regret that th' days have flown, 
 
 I know they can not forever last. 
 Fm sad at the parting, yet I am glad 
 
 That the time so pleasingly ends, 
 In my home once more I soon shall be, 
 
 So farewell school-days, farewell friends. 
 Tfire Haute, Lul, May, 1874. 
 
SUNSHINE. 
 
 !?HE sunshine glitters o'er the lea, 
 It's dying now on the deep blue sea. 
 But ere it draws from earth away, 
 Ere it is lost in the silver spray, 
 It lovingly hangs like a golden veil 
 O'er the tr3^sting top of a snow}^ sail. 
 To bid good-night, to sea and land 
 Then darts beyond to pebbled strand. 
 Takes its flight in a magic bark, 
 Leaves th' world in the arms of Dark. 
 
 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 ||to MERCHANT prince in early morn 
 Sfe At the ocean's edge was standing. 
 Where few days before his ships had lain 
 Tranquil at the landing. 
 Thousands now had lost their homes. 
 
 For the city smouldering lay ; 
 Thousands wandered sad and lonely 
 On that cold November day. 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 1 33 
 
 From sun to sun the flames arose, 
 
 The ashes of palatial homes 
 With the ruins of the poor 
 
 Swept above the steepled domes. 
 Proud and brave men failed in spirit 
 
 Before the city all aflame ; 
 The poor men stood there by the rich — 
 
 Their earthh' hopes were just the same. 
 
 With unfailing nerve th' firemen worked 
 
 Frorn day to day without avail : 
 The fleet was blazing on the main. 
 
 The fire wreathed manv a snowv sail ;. 
 The very air was charged with fire ; 
 
 Thickly lay the dead and d^ing, 
 Men and women and young children 
 
 Thro' the fiery streets were flying. 
 
 Many a fair one stood and wept. 
 
 Weeping as she'd never wept. 
 As the rolling flames afar 
 
 Onward to her palace swept. 
 With quivering sound th' fire alarms 
 
 Were vibratinjj on the air, 
 As sullen winds bore the flames 
 
 Onward o'er the city fair. 
 
[34 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 The demon now his work had finished, 
 
 Many a one grieved there alone ; 
 B3' his smouldering home, 
 
 All his earthly treasures flown. 
 'The merchant prince stood sorrowing there 
 
 For his lost wife, child and home ; 
 Wept convulsiveh' and sighed 
 
 By the moaning loam. 
 
 All his earthly hopes had fled him 
 
 And he turned again to weep 
 As he thought of his beloved 
 
 Locked in death's unyielding sleep : 
 -• I must here no longer linger. 
 
 Mourning for my loved and fair. 
 Else I perish bv the deep 
 
 In this chill November air." 
 
 ■" When I rushed from off' the main 
 
 To behold their lovely faces. 
 To embrace them and protect them. 
 
 Of them then I found no traces ; 
 Yes, I found the grave of one. 
 
 My loved wife, my Theadora, 
 But no grave of her I found. 
 
 My darling baby, Ora." 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 135 
 
 ^' Yet I knew she lieth there ; 
 
 Yes, I knew she perished there. 
 In the grim and stubborn flames. 
 
 Perished by her mother fair. 
 I must turn me from this weeping, 
 
 I must turn me from this gloaming. 
 Without home or friends or loved ones, 
 
 I'll betake me now to roaming. 
 
 ^' It matters not where I shall go. 
 
 In this lone and trying hour, 
 But I'll turn me from these scenes, 
 
 Else my brain shall lose its power. 
 I'll go outward o'er the plains, 
 
 Out upon the mountain slopes, 
 Trying ever, but I'll never, rebuild again 
 
 My earthly hopes." 
 
 So the merchant turned a\va3% 
 
 Toward the western prairies wild. 
 Lived with nature and commenced. 
 
 Thus away the ^ears he whil'd, 
 'Til one tedious autumn day. 
 
 He still farther westward wandered. 
 Outward toward the Rocky Mountains, 
 
 To the lone cordilleras wandered. 
 
136 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Grandly rose the steep Cordilleras, 
 
 Above a wide spread lovel}" vale, 
 A chain of beautious hills and woodlands,. 
 
 Lay just bevond the dale. 
 Close beside the great Cordilleras, 
 
 A peaceful village stood, 
 'Twas a lonely Indian village. 
 
 That adorned the strip of wood. 
 
 He saw the village by the mountains, 
 
 Sleeping calmly at their feet, 
 Undisturbed within the vale. 
 
 It was a wild but sure retreat 
 For the quiet Indian tribe ; 
 
 They were of the Shawnee band. 
 And their chieftain. Old Olvmpus, 
 
 Was the father of the land. 
 
 And, too, oti' there toward the southward,. 
 
 Stood a stately winding cave 
 With rock palatial chambers 
 
 Decked with arch and architrave : 
 Then into the cave he wandered 
 
 And betook himself to dreaming. 
 The natural language of the soul 
 
 Throucfh his brain w'as ever streamin""- 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 137 
 
 Thus he dreamed, what law of action formed, 
 
 Th}^ fretted long drawn isles, 
 Thy rocky hedges and by-ways, 
 
 That wind awav for miles. 
 What law, O cave, draped Ihy domes, 
 
 With the rock cut lily and the vine? 
 Greek or Roman art halls 
 
 Were ne'er adorned like thine. 
 
 " Dame Nature sits enthroned. 
 
 Within th}^ galleries, halls and alcoves, 
 Or sits alone in ghastly grandeur. 
 
 Within thy tangled, rocky groves ; 
 Or she rides here on th}^ waters, 
 
 In her bark-like shell canoe. 
 Where eyeless fishes, no sidereal. 
 
 Or civil dav ere knew. 
 
 " Darkness reigns with her o'er there. 
 
 Where those cross, double, single. 
 Round, elliptical, diagonal 
 
 And Gothic vaults commingle. 
 O cave, whv seek I thy history. 
 
 Since it never can be known. 
 Without ceasing thou has builded 
 
 As the dateless vears have flown.' 
 
138 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Thus the wanderer of the world 
 
 Dreamed aloud, as oft' he did, 
 But Dame Nature ever more 
 
 Her deep secrets from him hid. 
 Suddenly a glaring brightness 
 
 Shot out o'er a limpid stream. 
 Broke the magic of the spell. 
 
 Broke his wandering dream. 
 
 Two Indian maids with sparkling torch. 
 
 Stood there smiling at the waters. 
 They were clothed in gay attire 
 
 For they were the chieftain's daughters. 
 And as suddenly they saw him. 
 
 They half frighted turned away. 
 He in soft, low voice addressed them. 
 
 " Na}', my little maidens stay. 
 
 -' I was passing by this cave. 
 
 But forgetfully I've wandered. 
 In through its entrancing doors, 
 
 And tbrgetfulh' I've pondered, 
 'Till I chanced your light to see. 
 
 When I turned abruptlv here, 
 I beg pardon little misses, 
 
 I have frightened you I fear." 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 1 39 
 
 ^o they kindly him sahited, 
 
 With their fears at once allayed ; 
 As he heard tlieir broken English, 
 
 A smile about his wan face play'd. 
 They told him of their father's hamlet. 
 
 How the cave they came to pass. 
 As they came there for the ponys. 
 
 Hobbled out there on the grass. 
 
 And he told them his life's stor>'. 
 
 As they stood there b}' the riyer ; 
 Looking up when he had finished. 
 
 He saw a deep convulsive quiver 
 Settle o'er the elder maiden ; 
 
 Saw her scan him as he spoke. 
 Saw her scan him in the face. 
 
 But the silence ne'er she broke. 
 
 Then she beckoned him to follow 
 
 To her father's cabin door. 
 There they found Oh'mpus sitting 
 
 On a mat upon the floor. 
 Old Oh'mpus rose to greet him. 
 
 Spoke the Indian, French and Danish ; 
 These he found the wanderer knew not. 
 
 Then he spoke the broken Spanish. 
 
140 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Then he offered pipe of peace 
 
 When the wanderer there had rested. 
 When he'd drank from cup of porcelain 
 
 With gold and amber crested ; 
 Asked him of his home and country, 
 
 Then the wanderer told his story 
 Of the happy, happy time 
 
 When his home shone in its glory. 
 
 Old Olympus seemed astonished. 
 
 Fairly rooted to the rush mat 
 Thrown upon his cabin floor, 
 
 Where with feet across he sat ; 
 Wildly at the wanderer glared he. 
 
 Now his lips more tightly fold. 
 Completely seemed astonished 
 
 At the story that he told. 
 
 " White wanderer 3'ou may tarry 
 
 Long within my cabin home 
 Ere you start again lite's journey 
 
 Once again the world to roam. 
 We will go to-morrow hunting. 
 
 Winding round the frowning mountains, 
 Shoot the wild deer and the bear 
 
 Browsing 'mong the mountains."" 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. I4I 
 
 Thus Old Oh'mpus spoke ; 
 
 They went early on the morro\y. 
 The wanderer with his gun, 
 
 Olympus with his bow and arrovy ; 
 Both in silence marched along 
 
 Looking down o'er waying forests 
 Growing on the lotty hilltops, 
 
 Thus they went, the hunting tourists. 
 
 The wanderer followed Old Olympus, 
 
 Winding 'round the pathless mount'ns. 
 Thro' the spice-wood's scrubb}" hedges 
 
 Growinij by the tinklin<j fount'ns 
 Where the wild deer and the birdling 
 
 Unaffrighted drank together. 
 As the mountain herds came crowding. 
 
 Crowding to them thro' the heather. 
 
 Each one busy with his thoughts 
 
 As they trudged in silence on ; 
 Of the wanderer thought Olympus 
 
 Eyer since the morning dawn. 
 And the wanderer, too, was thinking 
 
 Of his lost home, wife and child 
 Ere the wrathful fire-demon 
 
 Spread destruction wild. 
 
142 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Of his daughter he was thinking, 
 
 Of her sweet face he was dreaming. 
 Of the sunshine and the smiles 
 
 O'er her face forever gleaming : 
 Of the last time that he saw her. 
 
 O'er the plains so broad and sear. 
 When the cold November winds 
 
 Told the closing of the year. 
 
 " Let us stop here," said 013'mpus, 
 
 " Rest upon this rocky ledge, 
 On this rock here sit and rest 
 
 On the mountain's shady edge." 
 So they stopped and ate and rested, 
 
 Viewed the beautious lands afar. 
 For the face of nature smiled, 
 
 No deep lines of care to mar. 
 
 Thus he and Old Olympus sat there. 
 On the mountain's rugged prow. 
 
 And the lines of care grew deeper 
 On his manly oval brow. 
 
 As he told him o'er again. 
 
 How he lost his ships and home. 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 143 
 
 And his cherished Theadora, 
 
 How she perished in the flames. 
 With his Httle daughter Ora. 
 
 Told him how from sun to sun. 
 
 The flames above the city rolled. 
 How the thousands stood around. 
 
 Shivering in the cold. 
 When the flames had died away, 
 
 And the heat had thus diminished, 
 When the fiery darts ceased flying. 
 
 When their cruel work they'd finished. 
 
 "Yes, white wanderer, you have suffered," 
 
 Old Olympus answering said ; 
 '• I have suffered, you have suffered," 
 
 Then Olympus hung his head. 
 '' But your dead hopes shall revive ; 
 
 Mine shall never more arise, 
 I can see the sunset of m}- race 
 
 In the western skies." 
 
 "A few years ago," he sighing said, 
 " We owned the Mississippi vale. 
 The forests and the eastern mountains. 
 We could find the red man's trail 
 
144 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Where we hunted all day long 
 
 For the deer among the mountains, 
 
 Or could see him in his bark canoe 
 Drifting' on the rollini>" fountains. 
 
 " But the white man hither came, 
 
 Drove away the Indian braves, 
 Drove us from our native homes 
 
 And our fathers' graves. 
 Ever}^ year they bade us moye, 
 
 Then poor Indian muttered low, 
 Every year we heard the summons, 
 
 'You must farther westward go.' '" 
 
 " We've come westward to the mount'ns, 
 
 Over yonder lies the ocean ! 
 Shall we 3^et be driven farther. 
 
 Ere our race shall cease its motion? 
 O, white man what have we done. 
 
 That we accursed should be. 
 Be driven from our native land 
 
 To the borders of the sea ? 
 
 " White man says he poor Indian tries 
 To civilize and educate. 
 All his efforts but prove fruitless. 
 Only his reward is hate. 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. I 45 
 
 White man savs he gives them money. 
 
 Gives them plenty, homes and hmd, 
 Bids them go and better do. 
 
 Thus the white man gives command. 
 
 ' But when w4iite man as he says, 
 
 Gives poor Indian home and lands. 
 Then there comes a horde of white men. 
 
 Cheating and marauding bands ; 
 Thev then cheat them and persuade them 
 
 Into buying prett}^ wares ; 
 Thus the white man ever, ever. 
 
 Poor blind Indian ensnares.'' 
 
 Old Olympus upward started, 
 
 For the evening was far spent. 
 Downward 'round the rugged slopes, 
 
 Thev backward to the village w^ent : 
 Darkness had grown thick and deep. 
 
 Ere the}' reached the cabin door ; 
 Ere again the wanderer rested. 
 
 On Olvmpus' cabin floor, 
 
 Lo ! without the valley shone 
 
 With the glitter of the torch hght, 
 6 
 
146 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Flashing from a thousand arrows. 
 These illumed the starry night : 
 
 They were dancing to the music, 
 All the Indian men and maidens. 
 
 Music with her magic charms 
 All the balnw air now ladens. 
 
 Long the gleeful party danced there, 
 
 'Till the night was growing late, 
 'Till the stars began to glimmer. 
 
 Then a banquet feast they ate. 
 Old Olympus and the wanderer 
 
 Sat and watched them, at them smiled, 
 Listened to the rustic music 
 
 Sounding o'er the mount'ns wild. 
 
 The wanderer spied a little maiden. 
 
 Dressed in skirt of Indian red. 
 With closely fitting toi-li-nette 
 
 And star-flecked band around'her head. 
 Closer now he scanned the maiden. 
 
 Saw she was the graceful one 
 He had met the day before. 
 
 In the cave at set of sun. 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 1 47 
 
 She was worshipped as a beaut}' 
 
 By the ancient Indian tribe. 
 Was the chief's adopted daughter 
 
 And the pet of the Shawanese tribe ; 
 She was sitting there and resting 
 
 With her arm hung on a willow. 
 Carelessly her bare and rounded arm 
 
 Rested on the willow. 
 
 A band of a"old adorned her arm. 
 
 Clasp' d by coral rosebud and verbena ; 
 The wanderer sat by Old Olympus 
 
 On a rush mat near Athene, 
 And he scanned her lovely face. 
 
 Then her bare and rounded arm ; 
 Pale he grew and trembled - 
 
 As if death had sounded her alarm ; 
 
 Shrieked and trembled, but Olympus 
 
 Caught him ere he fainting fell. 
 Led him off into his cabin. 
 
 '■" O, my triend, will ye tell. 
 Is that my little Ora? I saw th' name — 
 
 We traced it for a charm. 
 In Indian ochre ink. 
 
 Upon her dimpled, bab\- arm. 
 
148 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 " I should know her should I see her. 
 
 Should I see the dimples rise 
 
 In her plump and rounded cheeks, 
 
 vShould I see the sunshine of her eyes. 
 Whence came she?" the wanderer whis- 
 pered ; 
 Then the chieftain told the storv 
 He had oft' times told Athene — 
 
 He knew not then her name was Ora. 
 
 Then Olympus hurried outward 
 
 And he bade Athene come, 
 Follow him into the wigwam. 
 
 Bade her "hither quickly come." 
 Well she knew whom she should see there. 
 
 For she'd heard her Indian father tell 
 How he snatched her from the burning, 
 
 How her mother smothering fell ; 
 
 How there was no one to save her 
 From the anger of the flames ; 
 
 How he bore her to his wigwam 
 Awav across the plains ; 
 
 How he happened in the city. 
 As he oft' times went o'er there 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 To buy the trinkets for his tribe. 
 Things of beantv rich and rare. 
 
 Then straightway to the wigwam 
 
 Went the chieftain and Athene 
 With the gold band on her arm, 
 
 Clasped by rosebud and verbena. 
 " O, my father ! I have known you 
 
 Since you your story told last eve' 
 In the great cave over vonder, 
 
 When the sun began to leave. 
 
 " I have in this case a picture, 
 
 A likeness of thee and one other, 
 O, tell me, darling father. 
 
 Is it not that of my mother?" 
 Then she oped a golden locket, 
 
 That she wore about her neck, 
 When Old Olympus snatched her 
 
 From the burning wreck. 
 
 "•Yes, my darling, that's thv mother's, 
 This ye know is mine : 
 O, my darling, I dreamed never 
 I should ever again see thine." 
 
 149 
 
I50 
 
 INDIAN ATHENE. 
 
 Silence reigned there deep and sober, 
 'Til the spel Olympus broke. 
 
 White man, I have safely kept her," 
 Thus the Old Olympus spoke. 
 
 Take thy daughter, she is wealthy. 
 
 Take her to her mother's grave. 
 Rear thy palace home again 
 
 And thy earthly troubles brave. 
 Live in comfort by the foam. 
 
 In the city by the main. 
 For it o'er once more is built 
 
 High its towers loom again." 
 
 On the morrow Old Olympus, 
 
 Sent them safely o'er the plain. 
 To the land of peace and plenty. 
 
 To the city by the main. 
 Then the wanderer placed his daughter 
 
 In a convent by the sea. 
 In an art school there he placed her. 
 
 That she might educated be. 
 
 Then once more rebuilt his home. 
 Trimmed once more its statelv halls. 
 
INDIAN ATHENE. 151 
 
 Ope'd again the gushing fountains. 
 
 Reared once more his garden walls. 
 There the accomplished maiden, Ora. 
 
 Assumed a matron's cares, 
 She was the stay and comfort 
 
 Of his declininor years. 
 
J 
 
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