LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Chap Copyright No. >8^9 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. LY l^^'"^-^^'^ /-^"L^ O/ g M^J^^^i Green Mountain Chimes, FRANK J. Mcdonald. Author of 'Gail Donner;' ^'Bellaire^^ tU, BOSTON : WILLIAM WALLACE RICH. PuaLttHm, 14 DWHSTABLt StR«€T. 1899. TWO COPIES HECElVfiD. Library of CongrGi% Qfflce of the Beglater of CopyrlgfifSr T6 3^^^/ 52404 Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1899, Bv WILLIAM WALLACE RICH, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C, SfcG^isJ COf»Y« THIS HUMBLE VOLUME IS DEDICATED to Mr, & Mrs. ''Fred" Marcy, OF EDEN, VERMONT, As a token of the author's remembrance and appreciation of their friendship in the past, as well as an expression of admiration of their unpretentious and substantial solicitude for the welfare of those overtaken by life's attendant ills and misfortunes. PREFACE. fN THIS latest intrusion upon the- Public, for a preliminary, an apology is deemed less advisable than an explanation in as much as concession might, in its repetition, fail to merit acceptance. The chaos of diversity existing- in the subse- quent pages originated in the error of mingling with the polished children of sterner years, the ragged but no less loved urchins of an earlier creation, at the hazard of offence — even at the risk of condemnation by a people who was ever sought more to interest than to amuse. Some of the verses, written at an age inconsis- tSBOit with the themes represented, appear as rustic and uncouth as they did that troubled day when the untutored mind first attempted to voice the soul's refutation and repudiation of agencies de- lucive and detrimental to advancement — the heart's demonstrations of approval of the good and true and longing for the sapient and sanative : others have been tinkered but with poor success. The rhythmic forge refused to mend with the steady 6 PREFACE. Stroke of manhood, the springing shaft of youth. Out of the debris the battered remnants were plucked. In the v/hole should ouc^ht be found of sufncient Y/orth to merit the approbation of the reader — something to cheer earth's pilgrim, allay his fears, dispel his wrongs, lighten his cares, or deepen his interest of life and his love of fellowmen, the mis- sion is not in vain. F. J. M. Boston, Mass., June ist, 1S99. I N DEX Advice Age . After He Had Gone A Hope Answer Apostrophe to Memory Apostrophe to Prayer A Song Berries In The Grass Better Go Around Change Changes Charity Despondency and Hope Destiny Don't Give Up . Faith Farmer Smith's Religion Fear Not . For Gold . Give Back The Past . Hope In a Few More Days . It Isn't That Way . Lack of Leaders * Lamenting Let Me Sleep Lost .... Lost Innocence Love Meet Me At The Station With The Team Misplaced Talent Moral My First District School Nature's Power 8 INDEX. Nell 86 Not All 53 Pat-Riot-Ism ........ 30 Prayer ......... 96' Pull Against The Stream 78 Question ......... 61 Kegret 98 Sailing On The Waters of Sin ..... 52 Saying and Doing ^4 Sing Me A Song ....... 93 The Altars of Men 37 The Brave Heart 14 The Brook (^5 The Christmas Gift . 81 The Difference 26 The Gladdest Showers 27 The Light of Home 73 The Little Appletree 63 The Little Things of Life 16 The Old Elm Tree 49 The Old Man's Maxims ...... 97 There Will Be 89 The Voice of Conscience ...... 101 The World's Treasure 18 To-morrow ........ 28 True Prayer 68 Two Apples 77 Two Kisses ,.,...,. 52 Unlooked-for Happenings ro Vermont 23 Virtue t;9 What We All Like To Hear 80 When To Pray . . . . . . . . 75 When We Are Rich 34 When \Ve Grow Old 35 Where Are They ? 57 Whispering Voices ....... 56 Who Would Care To Live ? 43 You Cannot Bribe The Soul 43 You Could Not Know . . . . . . 1 06 Youth 46 Youth 48 Yet, give me the ship That has breasted the gale P^Gti 15. PO K M S . FAITH. If we believe like the child in the things unseen All our fields and woods will be ever green, The eye may feast on the gorgeous sheen, And the loaded boughs will toward us lean. HOPE. It will still the throb of the bounding heart ; It will dry the eye where the tear-drops start ; It can free the breast from its pain and smart, And cure the wound of earth's cruelest dart. CHARITY. From the burdened breast it will banish shame, And the heart caress which a world could blame ; It can light the soul with a brighter flame Than the taper's glare in the hand of Fame. LOVE. It will bring a light to the darkened soul, And in the brightness there unroll The treasure-sheet of the poet's scroll, And songs of rapture will from it roll. 10 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. UNLOOKED-FOR HAPPENINGS. The latest and greatest wonder Is a thing of the long-ago That was left to pass By the motley mass In the world's harassing flow. The grumbling and rumbling thunder Leaves never a sign to show That its fearful voice Makes some land rejoice — Some realm of ice and snow. The strongest and wrongest blunder May deep in its bosom stow Some good to come To a sorrowing one — Some blessing that none could know. The brightest and whitest is under, Best seen when the winds will blow. By the hand once stung There's a taper hung, And a signal swung below, For others young, With garlands hung Near the joys among life's woe. The nearest and dearest flowers Shall be missed from the heart's domain; But at the last When the night is passed — The night of blast and pain — The maddest and gladest hours Will return in an endless train, GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 11 And the soul bowed low With care and woe Will rejoice and glow again. The oldest and coldest bowers Will be loaded with flowers and grain That will blush anew In the morning dew When the sky is blue again; For unbidden and hidden powers Are weighing the loss and the gain; And the soul that was wrung, Like the soul that had sung, Will be sweetly swung from pain With praises sung By a garrulous tongue When its hopes are young again. ADVICE. If the world is your debtor It is hard to collect. If there's something for nothing You should strc^igly suspect; On the bright shore rf Promise Many vessels ha-, e wrecked. Beware of fast colors- Ihe silk and the sheen; Keep your gold and afiections till the inside is seen. With the laws of your rulers You should ever comply; Their day of compulsion Will steal swiftly by; '12 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. There's a spring called The Future That never runs dry; -Its waters can slacken the thirst of your cares, And wash from your bosom the grief that it bears. If Piety's idol Be set up in town Where the column of Virtue Is slyly cast down, Don't scoff at the actions Of the supplicant clown, But point him, in kindness, to Chastity's way. And lead him to ponder before he will pray. With the eye of affection View faults of mankind; Should your own rich apparel Be padded and lined, Spread out the silk mantle — The gem of your mind — O'er earth's straying children, that wander away. In the gloom of sin's shadow, f tom Virtue's bright ray. If the soul be a-weary The only true rest Is in sharing with others The things that have blest, And in biding the promise Of Time's throbbing breast; Loud supplication may serve the weak mind, But the supplicant often has axes to grind. If your day darkens quickly, And time hurries on, Gaze not disheartened Toward Life's horizon; GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. la Night's darkest hour Is just before dawn- There was never a measure, even filled to the brim, But held drops of Pleasure after Sorrow poured in. MISPLACED TALENT. One time in a town far away, A man thought he must have his "say." (He owned a good farm, by the way,) His front name was Clayte, While his mate's name was Kate, And he often would prate How the farming estate didn't pay. So he sought to write verses one day, He got out a book, With an important look, And was sure it had "took" right away. He neglected his cattle ; His wife fought the battle. She never got rattled. She earned the collateral to pay. In a poetical sort of a way He scoffed at her rural display. He assured her the volume would pay, And declared he had come out to stay. The grammatical errors were "great" Still his characters each had a mate ; And they stood 'neath the stars. By the gate or the bars ; (Most always they stood by the gate) U GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. But they stood there so late That he lost his estate, And the bread from the plate and the shelf; So, at last, to the mate of himself, He said "Patient Kate It is now rather late For your Clayte to *git onto himself." For tarrying Fate No longer I'll wait, I'll "git a gait onto myself". Now he drives home the kine as of yore, With no beam from the rhyme's soothingjlore, With no dream of the bard's golden shore Where Fame's dames had pointed With thumbs double-jointed. He doesn't care to go there any more. THE BRAVE HEART. To do anything great We must labor on strong Till the sweetness of life is all past, At a maddening gait We must hurry along Heeding neither the storm nor the blast. We may not stop to view The sweet roses of June, Nor list to the brook babbling by, For, so sure, if we do We shall learn the gay tune, And drop the world's task with a sigh. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 16 Yet, give me the ship That has breasted the gale When the weaker their anchors let drop, For I see in the dip Of its white swelling sail, A courage no tempest could stop. It would chafe in the chains Of increasing defeat Till the links were all severed apart, And then through the rains And the summer's red heat Strive on from the weaker apart. Brave one on thy breast, In earth's darkest night, I behold blazing grand from afar, In the place of thy rest, Shining softly and bright, The jewel of heaven's choice star. LOST INNOCENCE. Oft have I watched you When you deemed no presence nigh. Where buds of amber sipped the crystal dew, And stars, none purer than your heart and eye, Looked downward, smiling in the zephyr's breath. On my spirit ling'ring by your earthly door, For the soul's bright treasure, not for sin and death, Evils which I now deplore. 16 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. You have lost that charm Which innocence alone can give, And although you have done me no harm, If life should be lengthened — if we should live Till the amorous sun refused to kiss again The blushing cheek of this earthly shore, I still would think of you with pain, Never, never as of yore. But on the throbbing breast of Time's distant isle, Where all that is now shall forgotten be. There will you greet me with the strange sweet smile That first in its wonder drew my soul to thee, With no mem'ry of the blight now sund'ring us apart, Our barque will glide onward without sail or oar, Down the stream of years, when my aching heart Will know you as before. THE LITTLE THINGS OF LIFE. The simple coral working In his cell so quietly Rears up the lofty granite wall Above the angry sea, The forests and the rocks and hills, With nature's voices rife. Are calling out for men to heed The little things of life. The man who spends his energies Accumulating shares, And adding to his heavy load Each day a host of cares, GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 17 Never realizes, in the Long-continued strife, That the roses in man's pathway Are the little things of life. When all too strong our hearts and souls Are centered upon gain, The beauties of God's smiling earth Are scattered 'round in vain ; We exchange the choicest treasures For the bawbles of the strife. And never learn the value Of the little things of life. When some one blessed with millions Rears a school or orphan home, The people place his sculptured bust Upon the lofty dome. The jingle of the penny. Bravely earned in Labor's strife, Is stifled by the thunder Of the greater things of life. The loud and shallow orator Will charm and often sway, The crowd that never listens To what men of sense would say ; The thunder of the cannon Drowns the voice of drum and fife. Still, the sounds that lead the soldier Are the softer notes of life. The warrior, at the nation's shrine, Is worshiped for the strife, While no one lauds the valor 18 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. Of his patient, toiling wife ; The sword holds higher honor Than the scythe or pruning knife, But the blocks that build a nation Are the little things of life. THE WORLD'S TREASURE. World, I seek no favor from thy faithless hand. Thou hast dealt harshly with me ; still I stand Dauntless as before That day on which I felt thy searing brand ; From thy many wrongs, my future way is planned ; I'll plod no farther in thy treacherous sand ; I love thee no more. When I sought thy altar for thy gifts divine, In years gone by, of thy promise fine I had not yet learned ; The glit'ring bawbles on thy brazen shrine, The tinsel fabrics of a storied Rhine, The spurious brilliants from a fabled mine, I should then have spurned. In the murky waters of the darkened past These worthless bawbles have long since been cast, I seek them no more. Of their transient grandeur I learned at last; It vanished quickly in the storm and blast; Prom its cursed memory, I hurry fast To joys known before. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 19 I search no farther in thy pilfered nest For shallow trinkets in a false garb dressed ; Trust in thee is dead. The years already spent in earnest quest Have brought no rapture to my longing breast ; For all I suffered heed your own behest — Give to me a bed. For this small measure, which thou canst not deny, Keep the soul's lost treasure, keep the heart's pure sigh, Thou hadst these from me. I can give no tear-drop, for the source is dry ; Too long thy falseness filled this burning eye, For it to moisten at the last good-by Between me and thee. NATURE'S POWER. Oh, train of sacred music ! Oh, summer-song of trees ! The dancing of the rain-drops, The sunlight and the breeze. These powers of earnest gladness. Still falling 'round above, Will press the weary pilgrim When none else seem to love. The whisp'ring, nodding branches, By dreary pathways placed, Will blot with glist'ning dewdrops The tracks by false feet traced. 20 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. The brooklet's gentle murmur, Like the cooing of the dove, Will speak the soul o'erburdened That none else seems to love. In years of sorrow passing Things gleamed from Nature's breast, To the soul with Hope's-tree blasted, Are truest, dearest, best ; Despite the false world's promise These alone have power to move The heart, benumbed and weary, That will not — cannot love. FARMER SMITH'S RELIGION. Farmer Smith's religion Wasn't very orthodox, An' his quaint idee of dressin' Drove his pants inside his socks ; But the poor about the boro' Had free access to his ben, For his door was always opened To the call of honest men. At the church he liked the sermon. And he liked to hear them sing. Only whin they talked o'burnin' That was quite another thing. He had looked the business over, But had failed to see the p'int. In the plan of their salvation There seemed somethin' out of j'int. "To the soul witli Hope's-tree blasted Pac;e 20. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 21 Now, in the course o' Natur', He could see the rise an' fall O' the mist-cloud an' the raindrop, Just the same for one an' all. They might preach agin' th' nat'ral Untill time for cutting hay. But he'd bet a load o' pumkins He should^think the same old way. There was somethin' sort o' soothin' In the singin' o' the hem, An' he often sot an' listened With his oldest daughter Clem' ; But whin it come to preachin' O' the spirit's future strife, He knowed their brains was muddled — Yes he knowed it on his life. He had seen the corn and taters Grow and flourish fur a day. An' the next year, in the sunshine. Come and go the same old way ; He had seen his good wife, Marthy, Cross where none come back to tell, An' he didn't give a 'tay. And from September's bounty rare Glean harvests so.vn in May. Through all the strife, that years may bring, Beneath the heavens blue You'll gently press those slumbering In robes of that same hue. Of Ireland's fear, of England's beer The laureate bard may vaunt. 24 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. But my weak cheer shall echo here For ever-dear Vermont. On Memory's highest branches grave The letters V and t, They stand for Truth and Virtue, save The 'nitial-wounded tree. The angry blasts which often hark From Nature (stern old dame) But fan the bosom's slumb' ring spark To bright and deathless flame. The virgin's cheek is brighter hued When, on the driving blast, Sweet Freedom's notes, with love imbued. Is from her bosom cast To hearts of swain, in meadows where Is garnered every want ; Their earnest prayer to lay them there When done with care, Vermont. When this poor spirit, lone, has crossed To join the silent train, May every hope of earth it lost With Vermont's host remain. When other pilgrims stray along By Faith (fair mistress) led. Oh, may the poet weave his song Of sorrow near my bed ! Sweet then I'll rest in slumber strong, Through Time's eternity. Perchance to wake and join the throng <' My Country 'tis of Thee." That rest, in dreams, your tow'ring hills, Your vales and streams may haunt ; Though the lethe no memory thrills, I'll hear your rills, Vermont. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 25 In this long rest, if vital breath The silent tomb would brave ; Oh, should the phantom Ship of Death Sail back on Life's still'd wave. And from its deck upon the strand. To earth the freight return. Still, in my bosom, Memory's brand For you would brightly burn ! My wakened eye would wander high In quest of mountains green, If in the rivers flowing by Appeared no rustic sheen. From nature's string, on soaring wing, Sweet strains my way would haunt Till to your spring again I'd bring My cup and sing, Vermont. TWO KISSES. I kissed her one night In the moon's pale light — I kissed her and then we parted. She watched ma journey into the night. When I walked away in the moon's pale light, With a heavy heart, but a footstep light, Out on life's voyage started. I kissed her one day In the sunshine of May Near the spot where we once had parted. Her trembling heart on my bosom pressed Confirmed the tale that her eyes expressed ; Each heart knew it was greater blest Than if we had never Darted. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. FEAR NOT. Fear not in the coming morrow A storm that may never break, For, swift to the soul of sorrow, Some joy a journey may take, To assuage the gnawing canker. And with potent linger caress. And to break the dead chain of the anchor Of sorrow and sin and distress. The coldest and darkest shadow, That the lowering heavens can cast. In its passage over the meadow Brings strength to the flowers and grass. The blades that stand up the longest Have been swayed and bent by the gale, And the hearts that beat bravest and strongest Have been scarred by the frost and the hail. THE DIFFERENCE. I knew a thoughtless, happy poet ; He could sing but did't know it ; He was good, but couldn't show it ; When he drank, whew ! how he'd go it ! His praises, always very small, Dwindled down to none at all. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 27 I knew another — he was " in it ;" He could pray " a mile a minit " He didn't drink — he swore " agin " it ; On the sly, though, how he'd "pin it!" He got the praise of all ; The people loved him great and small. I knew a man of forty-seven ; If you owed him nine, he'd take eleven ; He prayed, at times, from six till seven ; He died, and went, of course, to Heaven, Everybody knew that well. The church proclaimed it in his knell. There was another lived that way, He didn't make the poor man pay Till after he had cut his hay. He didn't very often pray. When they pulled his funeral bell-cord Creed's white finger pointed hellward. THE GLADDEST SHOWERS. Now summer showers brighten All the fields with all their flowers. And the heart is filled with rapture While they fall ; But the rain that fell in boyhood — In those swiftly-passing hours, Were the maddest, gladdest showers Of them all. 28 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. It danced upon the house-top, And it whispered through the hours Till the soul, wrapped deep in slumber, Heard its call. It broke with whispering gladness All the night's dread, omaous powers, The maddest, gladdest showers Of them ail. What chains of love and friendship Still bind with magic powers The soul, though Time's cruel finger Touches all. Oh, brave hearts, crushed and broken, I can hear your dumb grief spoken In the maddest, gladdest showers Of them all. TO-MORROW. To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow. To-morrow some hope may die. Oh, glad to-morrow ! Oh, sad to-morrow ! To-morrow some joy may fly. To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow, To-morrow, mysterious day ! The broken wing And the conquered king You have bidden go your way. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 29 To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow, To-morrow some heart may break — Some heart of care That could not bear The burdens a world would make. To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow, To-morrow, dear, looked-for day, Your cruel powers Oft blight the flowers That bloom along life's way. To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow. To-morrow, sweet hope of life, Your golden rays Are born of days Forgotten in toil and strife. To-morrow, tomorrow, to-morrow, To-morrow, oh, word of dread ! In yonr treach'rous hand Th^ things once planned Lie now and forever dead. To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow. To-morrow, sweet rill of song. Your golden dreams — Your hidden streams Are bearing the weak along. To-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow, To-morrow some drooping flower May find a rest In your silent breast Now broken by earth's power. 30 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. *PAT-RIOT-ISM. They were talking very funny About politics and money— Of rhymes and stirring stories by the pleasant muses sung, When one struck an Irish ditty With a shade of Yankee pity, Then the other said, "Begorra, you had better hold your tongue "Faith, Oi'm in the mood for saying. Without hindrance or delaying. What Oi'd hesitate to banther if me temper wasn't riled." "Well, tell me, Mr. Connor, Upon your word of honor, The other ventured slowly to his partner while he smiled, "Was it with an intent wicked That you held the Tariff Ticket In your fingers last election when your honest vote you polled ?f It was not, and Oi'm sorry, It was owing to the hurry Of the business in me section — so it was, upon me sowld. " But is it more nor human That Oi'd shelther me old woman From the chilly blasts of winther which on 'lection quickly ride We're both up near the eighties, And with buying, tay and praties Ain't Oi justified in kaping the good guvner on me side 1 ♦Patriotism. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 31 Oi'U pray for his salvation If the divil takes the nation, — May the howly saints protict this ginerous man ; You'll not be such a soljer Whin you grow a little older, You will fall back sure, but nately from the van. If you injure me care-rack-ter, Now or any time hereafther Oi'U post you as a blackguard, clayne and nate ; So moind, me friend, no capers, Shure^ Oi'U find you out, Bejabers, Andfirninst the bar of justice you'll stand thrate." IN A FEW MORE DAYS. In a few more days Forgetfulness will come, and we Shall miss the rays — The fleets of youth — the childhood glee Will sail from sight on care's dark sea, The grander hopes of life will flee In a few more days. In a few more days The things we sought by earnest stroke, That men might praise — The sermon that we loudly spoke. The solemn vow, the promise broke Will vanish in oblivion's smoke In a few more days. 32 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. In a few more days The hand that we so fondly pressed, The flowers, the Mays The form that we had oft caressed. In beauty's garb so gaily dressed These, all, will know a truer rest In a few more days. In a few more days The heart which many gems has lost, Without Hope's rays Will near the stream where they have crossed And view the waves which oft have tossed The choicest freight of earthly cost, In a few more days. In a few more days The eyes that long have wept will close ; Their weary gaze Will search no more afar for those Forms that lie 'neath deep'ning snows ; The sleepless heart will know repose In a few more days. CHANGE. An aged man in the waning light, Sat with his dog and cat His thoughts went back to a by-gone night When a loved one near him sat. Side by side through the summer heat They had brushed the dews with hurrying feet. " Farmer Smith's religion Wasn't verv orthodox." Pa(.k 20. gr?:en mountain chimes. 83 But now the feet in the worn shoes Forgot all that weariness, And the heart, borne back on memory's cruise, Glowed 'neath the torn vest. There glistened the pearls of Love and Woe On the shabby garlands of long ago. With a trembling hand on his forehead braced He watched the visions pass by, Among them a maiden vv^th beauty graced, And love in her sparkling eye. Clad in garments of purest white ; He knew her — the bride of another night 1 The firelight flickered, the picture passed. The watcher shivered and sighed, Then arose in the room and feebly asked Why this loved one, too, had died. "It is only a boon in the ruling plan, " Spoke a voice from the gloom to the poor old man. " The change so strange is not fraught with pain, And it raises the burden of age ; To the sorrowing soul it opens again The wonderful childhood page. The seed of the fruit and the golden grain. When garnered with care, will live again. *' There's life in death, and there's joy in pain, To the restless heart, and the fevered brain. What was before will be again ; The links are sound in the golden chain, And the source of love will never drain ; The hand of Death, with a sad refrain, Only turns Life's pages over again." 34 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. WHEN WE ARE RICH. While you ha.ve a shining dollar You may realize a wish ; Should the sum grow any smaller You must turn out in the ditch ; On a million, you can " waller" With your front feet in the dish ; And your friends can bawl and holler " In the swim" with larger fish ; They can stretch a trifle taller, And pretend they, too, are rich ; In your footsteps they can "foller" With a regimental hitch. In the sanctum of Salvation You may have the cushioned seat, And assured of your approbation, You may lie or steal or cheat. Folks will " Mister" your relation. If his Christion name is "Pete ;" And on every great occasion, He can ride and drag his feet. In the wilds of Education You won't have to toil and sweat : On your anserine oration Your predacious boss will bet. At the highest female station You will be the ladies' pet ; You can give a long vacation To ail those who tease or fret : GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 35 When they get you out of patience ^ All you have to say is " Get," Or just call upon the nation To drive out the "tarnal set." At the fashionable libation Near your plate the wine they'll set ; There's no fear of condemnation, For the preachers' prayer you'll get ; And the lord of all creation You can buy or sell or let. You can gather the collection At the meeting or the mass ; And all your poor connection You can easily let pass. You need not fear'detection You may sport with every lass, It won't injure your complexion If you use a little brass ; You'Jl be cliosen at election, When all know you are an ass ; In a Democratic section, You may walk upon the grass ; You don't have to be perfection To reach Heaven on a pass. WHEN WE GROW OLD. There's a burden more to bear Of sorrow, grief and care ; Each step a higher stair Awaits the weary soul. 36 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. There's a larger debt to pay, While darker grows the way, This is why some watch and pray When they grow old. The maiden was a lass, The years more quickly pass, E'en the flowers change, alas ! In winter's cold. Still again the roses bloom On the long-forgotten tomb. Sunlight seeks the silent room When we grow old. Some bind their sorrows fast. To the splintered, broken mast, And drift out from the Past So dark and cold ; Others raise the voice and sing Praise to Heaven and a King Where to fold the weary wing When they grow old. Each December has its June, — Every evening has a noon ; Shall night be left no moon With light of gold ? Still remains Youth's golden day, Where the troubled throng may stay, Where the weary feet will stray When we grow old. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 37 THE ALTARS OF MEN. I sat by the hearth of an unknown world When the years of life began, And watched the smoke as it grandly curled From the altars built by man. The pleasant spot where I sat was bright; And through all the livelong day, My soul was tilled wdth a glowing light, And the stars made the night like day. I was happy then for I had not been To the altars of men to pray. But the time soon came when a dimpled hand Beckoned me far away. I plodded on through the deepening sand Till the close of that summer day ; In the gloom of eve, I neared the gate Whose key was easily turned, And found myself by the golden plate Where Vvorldb/ incense burned. Then I knew not the fame, nor the gilded name Of the dame my steps had turned. I thought me again of the happy day. And longed my way to trace ; How sadly and soon it had passed away In the world's uneven race ! Then Love, a siren of the realm new, Touched me with her wand. She gave me a seat in her cushioned pew — She smiled on me, and fawned ; Then she grew, 'neath the sky of blue' Something new and grand. 38 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. But all through that night in the arms of love My soul could find no rest ; The moon moved the same in the heavens above, But a fire burned in my breast. Then I sought our Fame, and beheld her there Ail beautiful to the sight ; And my lips quick moved in an earnest prayer To direct my thoughts aright. But all had gone before the dawn ; There was none in the morning light. Then Wealth, with its treasure all untold, Lifted my trembling hand, And filled the palm with a shower of gold, On the wrist placed a glit'ring band. In the visions grand, of a restless sleep, I waited for the dawn; But awoke in the morn and began to weep. For the treasure all was gone. It was then a dream ; and the morning beam With a silent gleam moved on. With sorrow rife in my aching breast, I fled from the hateful place. And sadly sought a haven of rest In the earlier happy grace. Over the hills I could see, afar. Youth's beauteous, fiov, 'ry dell ; But the clouds of Age covered moon and star, And the storm of years then fell. I gazed on the sky, with a failing eye. And began to cry in the dcil. In the absent hour, my early joy Had passed from earth away ; GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 39 The sweet content of the thoughtless boy Had fled in that eager day. With a feeble voice, I called again In the storm of the darksome day ; But a voice from the smoke of the altars of men Said the joy had gone to stay — That the perfect joy, of the trustful boy, Was a toy not found alway. LET ME SLEEP. With the things I love the best Let me sleep. In Nature's solemn breast Let me sleep. In the dell with flowers dressed ; By the moon and stars caressed ; Where the song-bird builds his nest Let me sleep. Chorus: Earthly shadows o'er my heavy eyelids creep, Let me sleep. Let me sleep upon the shore where waves may weep. In silence strong and deep, Where stars their still watch keep, I would toil and weep no more; Stronger hearts may sow and reap ; With the friends I loved before Let me sleep. 40 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. After all the strife is past, Let me sleep. In darkness deep and fast Let me sleep. With the sails off every mast. With the anchor safely cast ; Heedless of the chilling blast, Let me sleep. In dreams of things gone by Let me sleep. For no vanished hope I sigh, Let me sleep. All we love must fade and die ; — Darker clouds are drawing nigh, Sleep will dry the Vv'eeping eye. Let me sleep. As a rest from toil and care, Let me sleep. Softly through the noontide glare, Let me sleep. Plopes now lost are surely there ; To escape the tempter's snare. Close beside the true and fair. Let me sleep. Fold these timid, weary hands ; Let me sleep. Bind the heart with iron bands ; Let me sleep. Cool the brow with zephyr fans. Drive away all earthly plans ; This inheritance is man's ; Let me sleep. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 41 Bear all earthly hopes away — Let me sleep. Through the beauty of the day, Let me sleep. Where the billows dash the spray, Where the pilgrim feet may stray. In the dawn so still and grey Let me sleep. Close this dim and aching eye, Let me sleep. Through the night of by-and-by. Let me sleep. In sweet slumber would I lie On the wing that soars so high, Where the brooklet babbles by. Let me sleep. All the lost will be again, Let me sleep. There will come no throb of pain, Let me sleep, It will mend the riven chain, And the strengthened links again Can bind the fevered brain. Let me sleep. BETTER GO AROUND. A'man once started boldly out ::. To cross to Fortune's shore. Although he heard the favored shout, No way could he get o'er. 42 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. He saw the boasted treasure shine Across the river's tide; But by the world's tempestuous Rhine His efforts were defied. Though oft, in youthful dreams of play He'd crossed it at a bound ; Strange in Age's weary way He'd have to go around. He started honest in the fight To mount the golden throne ; And labored hard both day and night To make the world his own. He always walked the narrow path If he was not alone, But kept aloof the threatening wrath And never did atone- At last he crossed the laws' swift stream; And when his tracks v/ere found, He wished he'd followed Virtue's beam. And ahvays gone around. Too soon came on the tide of years, He wished his v/ays to change ; He stepped at last, despite of fears. Where earth's white-robed ones range. The worldly hand had held him oft Beneath those angels' tread. But in Religion's rays so soft He safe, sought Glory's bed. He bribed the priest and saintly band To help him o'er the sound ; But when Old Satan took his hand He wished that he'd gone 'round. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 43 WHO WOULD CARE TO LIVE? When cruel clouds of earth The steep paths darken, And the Star of Youth no light will give ; When to no voice of mirth The soul will harken, Who would care to live ! When the heart, once warm, Is chilled with sorrow, What but sleep can any respite give ? It can free from harm — From the dread to-morrow, Who would care to live! When all the songs are sung, And all the words are spoken, What is there more the world can give ? When the soul is wrung And the heart is broken Who would care to live ! YOU CANNOT BRIBE THE SOUL. When the heart is dull with pleasure, ■^ Or with pain and care is cold, Still remains the inward treasure For you cannot bribe the soul. U GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. Thoughts and dreams, unspoken, Run down memory's chain unbroken From the never-broken measure made of old. The ba-by's waxen fingers Touch again the mother's breast, In the memory that lingers Round the form so sweetly pressed. On the tides of pain or gladness Will Gome back each joy or sadness, That the life with patient fingers once caressed. In the days of strength and beauty To the glowing heart may come, The harsh voice of some duty Left an earlier time undone. With a strange menacing power It can blight the fairest flower — Hide its sweetest beauty from the sun. Unseen hands will weigh and measure. In a scale of highest mould. Every grain of pain or pleasure That the heart has bought or sold, To be kept forever ready In a balance sure and steady. That will gain a pain or pleasure for the soul. GIVE BACK THE PAST. O, World, in your hurry. One brief moment spare ■ The angry blasts which often hark From Nature (stern old dame )." Page 24. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 45 To bring me the treasures I left in your care. You promised to keep them In your bosom locked fast, I will ask nothing further — Just the things of the Past. Have you hidden them deeply In Eternity's breast Where the soul with Death's secret Makes its own earnest quest ? Wealth, Fame and Honor Before you I cast, — Hide them forever But give back the Past. t>' I gave you the sweetness From Love's dimpled hand, And also the jewels In Friendship's bright band ; Now I come humbled And wearied at last From searching your darkness For the things of the Past. Their long-absent beauties May cost many sighs — May borrow a teardrop From these aching eyes, While over my spirit That sweet spell is cast When round it are gathered Those things of the Past. 46 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. Yet would I have them — Caress them once more ; They'll bring back the voices From Youth's silent shore Where ships ride at anchor Never heeding the blast — I seek nothing further. Just the things of the Past. YOUTH. Youth, could I with thee remain, Early hopes would keep the stain Of the world away. On the wave of Manhood's sea. There my dim eye now must be ; In the race no longer free, Sadly I turn back to thee, Lost and fleeted day. For the things so good and true I have often given you, Without a word or sigh. Lead me. World, from Fame and Power ; Sing me back for one sweet hour ; Let me hear an April shower ; Let me pluck from May the flower Which I oft passed by. Humbly here alone I stand — Take my outstretched, trembling hand ; Lead me far away GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. To the streams so swift and clear, To the woods so brown and sear, 'Mong the leaves to laugh and cheer, With the friends so true and dear Let me once more stray. Quench the flick'ring lamp of Fame, Hide the gilded, worldly name, Take the band of pow'r — These are yours without a sigh. Sever now the weakened tie If this eager, aching eye May view the fields of days gone by Just one little hour. APOSTROPHE TO MEMORY. (From "Gail Donner.") O, Memory ! beautiful river Of the checkered Past ; bearer of a Canvas designed not by earthly skills ! You have led the heart, growing cold 'neath The slant beams of life's descending sun. Back where tha vertical rays make it Pulse and glow again. You have turned The barque from the barren Iceland of Age, and anchored it again on that Flow'r-strewn shore of youth, from whence it once Drifted calmly and unconsciously Away. You have made the captive in His dungeon feel in the hard, cold stone, 48 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. On which his head reclined, the pulsing Of a heart which oft bear for him in The snowy bosom where his burning Temples once were pillowed, and, in the Clank of his broken chain, you sang him -Away to the glad hearthstone of his Happy home. You have permitted the Lover to fondle again the hand Rudely snatched by death from his caress. You have led the exile back over The seas — back to the " pleasant hillsides " Of his native land — back to the spot Where he had dreamed and where he had sighed, Where he had laughed and where he had cried — Back to the old home, to the churchyard, To the tomb ; and allowed his eye to Behold, and his longing arms to press, Once more, the beloved forms of by-gone And receding years. YOUTH. Oh, dancing, laughing river. On your mossy bank I'll stay. And with loved ones pluck the violets While you chatter on your way. AGE. Oh, dark and treach'rous river On your restless breast to-day, 1 behold the phantom barges Bearing all my hopes away. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 49 THE OLD ELM TREE. In thy presence majestic What joys come to me ! My heart seeks thy shadows, Near thee I would be. For one hour, dear lost one, To stray back with thee In the cool, shifting shadows Of the old elm tree. We played there as children With no care or fear ; We first whispered friendship Then something more dear Till at night in my slumbers My dreams were of thee And miy pillow was resting Near the old elm tree. To-day, love, I viewed it With a heart sad and sore ; Its branches v/ere waving The same as of yore ; The leaves faintly whispered, My darling, of thee, But sad is the story Of the old elm tree. Its leaves have not fallen But the branches are dried; The rain-drops were falling ; 50 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. I sat down and cried. My heart was enraptured, For, again, young and free, We met there together Near the old elm tree. There thrilled in my bosom A rapture no less Than that of the by-gone When it knew your caress. From the clover sweet sounded The hum of the bee ; And birds sang once more In the old elm tree. The wind from the meadow Through the dry branches sighed It told the sad story That the tree, too, had died. I awoke from my gladness, And looked, love, for thee, Alas ! you had vanished From the old elm tree. APOSTROPHE TO PRAYER. ( From " Gail Donner. " ) Oh, Prayer ! thou who hast cast a Ray of comfort into the Darkest affliction, soothed the Deepest wounds of the crush'd and Broken heart, and revived the GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 51 Smould'ring embers of hope burnt Low on Despair's desolate Hearthstone, around which the chill'd And weary soul still lingered, Are thy words, framed and uttered Here, emblazoned with a hand Of fire on that tablet Beyond the horizon where The sun of life's day must set ? Make answer you whose knee has Bended in both Youth's trustful Morning, and the doubting night Of Age. LOST. I strayed by Time's great ocean strand, And watched while Nature's tide Bore along the rich, the grand, The beggar by their side. There I saw in the waters' mirth. The treasures the tide had claimed Borne swift along by the shore of earth, The bad, the good, the famed. With them appeared on the billows' crest The things of by-gone years — The hopes and joys a life had blessed : Life's sorrow and toil and tears. Once on the deck of a passing bark. As T stood by the river cold, 52 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. Among the specters, grim and dark, Appeared a kindred soul. This vessel with timbers staunch and strong Passed down the dashing stream — There came from its deck a mournful song. And the sound of its turning beam. My eye, with a wistful, longing stare, Followed the ensign white Till clouds wrapped the river everywhere In a mantel dark as night. Then whispered a voice, in sorrow deep, " Earth's child you have gone astray; Here on the strand to-morrow keep Your vigil begun to-day." SAILING ON THE WATERS OF SIN. Are you sailing your ark on the waters of sin Where the wrecks of sorrow and shame have been? If so, stray captain, turn in, turn in To the harbor of safe repose, Where your boat will be rocked by the zephyrs of spring By the shore where the robin dips his wing, Where the seas are calm and no fog bells ring, And there comes no winter of snows. Tear the darksome flag from the splintered mast. Oh, hark you not to the rushing blast } GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 53 Change your course ere the day is past, And the hope of your voyage is lost. Quick mend the torn sail and catch the rushing tide, And pass the crafts that slowly ride : Sail swiftly away to Virtue's side Where billows have never tossed. Dangerous rocks in your pathway lay ; You see them not in your darksome day ; Their sullen peaks dash up the spray That calm in Youth's sunshine tossed. Oh, straying one hurry fast away While the light on your prow is born of day ; Night will come to stay alway. And the blessinofs of life will be lost. NOT ALL. The was once a man but now he is dead, He owned both houses and lands, He owned deep mines of silver and lead. And claims with the golden sands. He owned a square on the river street And two on the avenue, And the smile for his tenants was not so sweet On the day when their rents were due. He was reckoned as solid by the crowd As a stone in the Chinese wall, But the simple tailor that made his shroud Knew he didn't own it all. $4: GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. A maiden sat in the dying light, Her fingers touched the keys, She sang everything that was " out of sight," But here listeners still would tease. She sang " Come Home " and *' The Boys in Blue/' •*I Whistle and Watch for Kate," '' Will you be true ? " and " I Love but You,*' " And Don't Stay out too Late," "My Old Cabin Home," and " Baby-Mine," " Maggie May," and <' After the Ball," 3ut they knew when she left out " I'll Be Thine," That she had not sung them all. A man there was not very good, But his face had Wisdom's look, He read the myst'ries of field and wood Like the page of an open book. He had learned the tablets of Greece and Rome, Likewise the cards that win — Too many times he Jiad stayed from home To find what " might have been." He knew how the muscles work the bone. And why the apples fall, But his mother-in-law soon made him own That he^didn't know it all. Still one more son of Adam's race. With no fortune but his pride. Sought in a rich man's dwelling place ^^: An heiress for a bride. With tales of his love and his handsome home He filled the trusting ears, Till the maiden's heart was loath to roam With an absence of all fears. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. He soon fooled her, then turned about And entered the father's stall, But he knew, when the old man kicked him out, That he had not fooled them all. Another, a shepherd of a flock. Watched all his lambs with care, Each day and hour, like a solid rock. He prayed for them a prayer. He loved the rich and the poor the same, The modern and the quaint, The simp'ring lass and the stately dame, The sinner and the saint. He loved his wife and the choir-girl. Miss Bates and Mrs. Ball, And when he " skipped " with the hired-girl They knew he loved them all. A gentleman of other times Sought out the throne of grace. He had learned in hymns and tales and rhymes How this had saved the race. He had been, of course, in earlier days What aunts style " Quite a boy," But now he wished to mend his ways. And to enter into joy. Like this, the friends gone on before Had 'risen from their fall. But he learned, on reaching the other shore, That it had not saved them all. 56 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. WHISPERING VOICES. There are voices in the twilight Whispering tales of long ago, Of the happy days of summer, Of the winter and its snow : Telling stories of the springtime When the heart is all aglow : Speaking sadly of the autumn When the flowers cease to grow. I have listened oft at even To these voices strange but true, When our spirits knit together While the flowers sipped the dew ; The heart then had no shadow, For our sky was always blue. Whispering zephyrs told the flowers Every secret that we knew. Even now I long for evening, For the time when work is done, Then down among the shadows, When the hills have crossed the sun, I can listen to the voices, All of you, dear, absent one : First I met you there at even When the work of day was done The tale is now of sadness. But down in my bosom deep There is a restless longing For the words the zephyrs keep : With the friends so true and dear." Page 47. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. 57 Their whispers cool the fever In the heart that will not sleep. Once the flowers smiled and nodded, They now bow down to weep. Still the voices and the shadows About my heart entwine The thrill of those sweet moments When I held your hand in mine, While the bee sang in the clover Where he came at dusk to dine, When with downcast eye you whispered You would be forever mine. The hours now are longer. Darker hill-tops hide the sun ; And the trill of some rude finger Over Nature*s harp-strings run. Singing ever songs of sadness, All of you my absent one, Still, I long and sigh for evening When the cares of day are done. WHERE ARE THEY. Where is the heart that used to beat ? The heart is tired and laid away. Where is the cart that crossed the street ? The cart is -ired — It didn't pay. 58 GREF-:N mountain CtilMES. Where are the feet with the soft, slow fall? The feet are resting — they fare the best. Where is the seat by the p^ardeii wall ? The seat iy vacant — he confessed. Where is the voice so sweet and clear? The voice is hushed by a silent call. Where is the choice that we made last year ? The choice? — it turned out nothing at all. Where is the maid that we used to court ? The maid went off with another "feller." Where is the squirrel that we shot for sport ? The squirrel ? — he's in the schoolboy's speller. Where is the prayer that we used to pray ? The prayer is forgotten, it had its day. Where is the hair that we parted gay ? The hair was transient — it didn't stay. Where is there " square" that we used to play ? The square is rounded — it didn't pay. Where is the fare we used to pay ? The fare ? — the conductor periiaps will say. Where is the seven hairs we shaved ? The seven w-hitened one by one. Where are the eleven dimes we saved ? The eleven dimes were spent for fun. V^Tiere is the haven whose streets are paved } The haven is crowded if there be one, Where is the craven who feared the grave ? The craven ? — he's loading his great, big gun. GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. VIRTUE. Earthly pilgrim there's a jewel Found within the aching breast That can still your fevered longing — Charm the tired heart to rest. It is Virtue's precious treasure, And the subject with it blessed Is more wealthy than his monarch In a crown of diamonds dressed. It can drive away the anguish When the mortal, fleeting breath Vainly seeks a ray to light it On the unknown road of death. When the years of life are gathered Near the entrance of the tomb That soul by Virtue lighted Needs no brighter sun or moon. Oh youth ! in happy springtime Guard tins gem of price untold, With the key of maniiood lock it In the fastness of your soul. Along life's dang'rous journey Grasp the key with zealous hand Lest you lose it in the darkness Of the world's cruel drifting sand. Happy maiden keep this treasure Safe within your snowy breast ; To maintain earth's sweetest pleasure You are given this behest. 60 GREEN MOUNTAIN CHIMES. On your bright face of beauty I behold its beams at play Like the gold-light on the lily From the distant lamp of day. Sweet Virtue, in earth's darkness, I have seen your shining wing Strew the drearest path of winter \Vith the blossoms of the spiing, I have seeny^ou load Life's autumn With the fruits of youthful years, And drive from its December All the doubts and cares and fears. While your bosom holds this treasure, Child of earth and earth's dark cares, Your feet need never falter On life's road of pits and snares ; When the clouds and shadows gather It will brighten up the way; Though tlie night be dark aisd stormy It can make it as the day. Like the nestlings in tlie tree-top — Safe from Evil's dreaded crest Are your hopes and dreams forever Held In Virtue's sweet caress. Threat'ning clouds may beat around you, Light'nings flash and thunders roar. But wijile Virtue guides your footsteps You are ^■•-^ ■■'■■- ■''^-■nore. GREEN M.jUNTAiN CHIMES. 61 QUESTION. In Nature's breast or v/here'er ihoii. art Almighty and controling povv'