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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/fragmentspoemsOOholl 
 
FRAGMENTS 
 
 BY 
 
 Edward Everett Hollingworth 
 
 Author of "Melodies and Tidings of the Spiritual Life," etc. 
 
 'Gather up the fragments, . . .that nothing may be lost" 
 
 — Jesus Christ 
 
 COLUMBIA, S. C. 
 
 The State Company 
 
 1904 
 
Two Copies Keceivea 
 
 OEC 12 I 904 
 
 JJopyrteftt Entry 
 
 s Ah<L /Z /?•/»'/ 
 
 f CLASS O. XXC. Noi 
 
 \ copy b. 
 
 
 Copyright, 1904, 
 
 by 
 
 Edward Everett Hollingworth. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 A Lament. . t6 (geffgfottB 
 
 A Paraphrase • . . . . 21 
 
 A Song for Children's Day 14 
 
 A Vision in the Sunlight 19 
 
 An Exhortation 17 
 
 Be Ye Also Ready 17 
 
 Easter 13 
 
 God's Care 11 
 
 God's Peace 10 
 
 His Way, and Ours 9 
 
 Jesus Only 20 
 
 One in Six Hundred and Eighty .—22 
 
 Some People 23 
 
 The Dying Sister 15 
 
 The Sabbath. . 13 
 
 They that Sow in Tears 10 
 
 To Soothe the Troubled Heart 12 
 
 Wishes 18 
 
 As It Was, and Is, and Ever Shall Be 39 S21S!" 
 
 Do I Love Thee ? 46 
 
 During Absence 36 
 
 Fated 29 
 
 Forsaken 42 
 
 Glimpses 43 
 
 He Loved Her ! 25 
 
 Her Influence 35 
 
 Her Return 30 
 
 Lonely 27 
 
 Love is Best 36 
 
 Love's Light 27 
 
 Love's Sun 35 
 
 My Little Girl With Hazel Eyes 34 
 
 My Treasure 38 
 
 Phyllis 40 
 
 Prospect 30 
 
 Sly Cupid 37 
 
 The Girl I Did Not Get 32 
 
 The Girl Who Captured Me 33 
 
 The Two Barks 28 
 
 To My Love 29 
 
 While She Tarries 38 
 
Page 
 
 (Bmetraf A Song of the Bay 76 
 
 America's Beginnings 59 
 
 And There Shall Be No More Sorrow 70 
 
 As Others See Us 63 
 
 Chestnutting 62 
 
 Circus Day 55 
 
 Debs's "Sympathetic" Strike 54 
 
 Ever Old, Ever New 51 
 
 Experience 72 
 
 Faithful Unto Death 56 
 
 Follow the Fashion 68 
 
 Fourscore 54 
 
 Harvesting 65 
 
 In Memoriam 78 
 
 In the Panorama of Life " 47 
 
 Life's Aim 67 
 
 Life's Day 75 
 
 Night 66 
 
 Nymphaea 67 
 
 Our Home Is Paradise 74 
 
 Retrospect 68 
 
 Song 58 
 
 Sunrise on the Sea 75 
 
 The Bicycle Girl 50 
 
 The Fate of the Harkness 52 
 
 The Faulty Human 69 
 
 The Hidden Gem S3 
 
 The Muse's Gift S3 
 
 The Palisades 72 
 
 The Pennsylvania Hills 71 
 
 The Result of a Pedigree 77 
 
 The Showgirl's Lament 51 
 
 To an Inactive Poet 68 
 
 Uncertainty 63 
 
 When the Circus Comes to Town 66 
 
 Winter 73 
 
 ($ &wg($ A Ni g ht Tragedy 84 
 
 or #f»0 Banished 8 5 
 
 Discretion 85 
 
 In the Police Patrol 86 
 
 Leap Year 80 
 
 The Fickle Sex 82 
 
 The Passing of Coney 83 
 
 We Still Dine 84 
 
 When Grover Reseats Lil 79 
 
 3nfiCrtpfton0 Eighteen Years Old 91 
 
 to SttfcttbB 1° Autograf Albums 87 
 
 Of Age 90 
 
 With New Year Gifts 88 
 
 With Valentines 92 
 
To My Mother, 
 
 Who has been my chief source of encouragement during 
 
 the passage of the years, and from whom I 
 
 inherit any talent I may possess, 
 
 This little volume is affectionately dedicated 
 by the author. 
 
EN PASSANT. 
 
 For the issuance of this book no apology is offered. 
 The merit of its contents is visible only to friends, and 
 others will waste little time with it. These "Fragments" 
 have been written from every conceivable motive except 
 anger and an effort to acquire wealth. Both of these are 
 useless. 
 
 From my mother and father alike has been inherited a 
 love for poetry, and many hours have been spent in its 
 perusal, and later in an effort to essay its composition. At 
 the age of thirteen the following, which is reprinted without 
 alteration, appeared in the New York Weekly Witness: 
 
 OUR DOG FRANK. 
 
 We have a dog, and Frank's his name; 
 With children he is very tame. 
 His ears are long, his manners bold, 
 And he is nearly three years old. 
 
 His coat is curly, long, and soft. 
 At night he sleeps up in the loft. 
 In summer he'll play with a ball, 
 And worry cats until they squall. 
 
 He killed two 'possums late last fall, 
 And also ate up Carrie's doll. 
 He'll chase the cows, and calves, and hens, 
 And scare the piggies in their pens. 
 
 He spied a cross old hen one day, 
 Who for her chicks did scratch away. 
 "Now," thinks our Frank, "I'll have some fun ; 
 I'll chase her chicks, and then she'll run." 
 
Fragments 
 
 So off he ran among the brood; 
 The mother thinks him very rude. 
 She caught his long tail in her bill, 
 And pulled him backward with a will. 
 
 Poor Frank! he howls, but 'tis no use, 
 For the old hen will not let loose. 
 At last he jerks and breaks away, 
 Ne'er to return another day. 
 
 This lesson Frank remembers still, 
 Although it did not bring him ill. 
 He ne'er returned the hen to chase, 
 But now when near he hides his face. 
 
 From then to the present, these strays have made their 
 appearance from time to time in the papers and magazines 
 of our country, while some have never before appeared 
 in print. This is only a partial collection — enough for 
 memory for friends. Very few have been written to order ; 
 almost all are impromptu expressions of thought. If they 
 prove of interest to any one, then their reproduction in 
 this form shall not have been in vain. 
 
 Edward Everett Hollingworth. 
 
 Columbia, S. C, November 6, 1904. 
 
FRAGMENTS. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 JE)i0 Wag <xnb €>nxB. 
 
 ■"Suffer the little children," the blessed Redeemer said, 
 "Of such is the heavenly kingdom," and lovingly stroked 
 each head; 
 But now, tho the years are many since Christ this lesson 
 
 taught, 
 The little children suffer for the blessings Jesus brought. 
 
 "Suffer the little children." — Oh, fiend in saint-like form, 
 Passing the puny bootblack, freezing in winter's storm, 
 Give him a cuff in passing, on your way to a city church — 
 Tho the little children suffer, their hearts are free from 
 smirch. 
 
 "Suffer the little children."— Oh, devil behind the bar, 
 Put not the deadly poison in hands you have helped to mar. 
 They may be past redemption, callous and aged with care, 
 But the little children suffer, and you mock the orphan's 
 prayer. 
 
 "Suffer the little children." — Ah me ! as the world goes on, 
 One little one after another the shackles of sin will don. 
 The gospel is preached to the wealthy, but down in the sin- 
 swept slums 
 The children continue to suffer, and will until Jesus comes. 
 
Fragments 
 
 djob's (peace. 
 
 Out of the garish day, into the cool, sweet night, 
 
 Clad with its myriad stars, flashing from settings bright; 
 
 Out from the busy world, into the peace of God — 
 
 This is experience sweet for those who have felt the rod. 
 
 Sorrows and trials sweep over a peaceful life, 
 Changing the quiet calm into a scene of strife. 
 Useless the worldly life, useless the "boon" of wealth — 
 God, the life-giver, then gives us eternal health. 
 
 Upward, O fainting soul, heavenward turn thine eyes; 
 See where on Calvary's brow God made the sacrifice. 
 What are the troubles, then, experienced here below? 
 Only God's loving hand, strength'ning against the foe. 
 
 For "whom the Lord doth love He chasteneth," 'tis His 
 
 word, 
 Spoken in gentle tones, down thru the ages heard. 
 Upward, then, weary soul, upward direct thy prayer, 
 Knowing that He will hear who sitteth in glory there. 
 
 £§eg f(M §kw in £eat0. 
 
 "Who sow in tears with joy shall reap" ; 
 This promise we will ever keep. 
 As precious treasure, let us store 
 It in our hearts forevermore. 
 
 And when in life's uncertain way, 
 We fail to save the sheep who stray, 
 Still in our hearts this saying keep — 
 "Who sow in tears, with joy shall reap." 
 
 When skies are dark and trouble rolls 
 In angry billows o'er our souls, 
 When all is dark, amid the pall 
 And gloom, remember He sees all. 
 
 10 
 
Religions 
 
 And tho our pathway here be dark, 
 Oh, let us fan tfye dying spark 
 Of faith into a cheerful glow, 
 And He will guide where'er we go. 
 
 Then when our task is finished here, 
 Altho the way was dark and drear, 
 In heaven the fruit of many years 
 We'll reap in joy, though sown in tears. 
 
 <B>ob'6 Care. 
 
 I love to walk in the morning, 
 
 When the sun's first slanting rays 
 Pierce thru the gloom and the darkness, 
 
 Thru the mists and dense gray haze. 
 My soul breaks forth with the songsters 
 
 In a joyful anthem free, 
 And in my heart keep a-ringing 
 
 These words : "God cares for thee." 
 
 And when at the heat of noontide, 
 
 'Neath the blazing orb of day 
 Again I walk, in the sunlight 
 
 Seems a whispering voice to say : 
 'Why spend the hours in complaining? 
 
 From thy breast bid sorrow flee; 
 Christ bore for thee earth's evils, 
 
 And He will care for thee." 
 
 I love to walk in the evening 
 
 When the sun is sinking low, 
 And with the brightest of crimson 
 
 The west sky is all aglow. 
 My heartfelt praise rises heavenward, 
 
 And I know God heareth me, 
 As still my soul echoes softly, 
 
 "Rejoice! He cares for thee." 
 
 11 
 
Fragments 
 
 to ^oofge tU trouBfeb %t<xxt. 
 
 Two ways — one flower-twined 
 
 And passing fair to see, 
 Where earth and sea combined, 
 
 And grassy blade and tree, 
 
 In harmony agree, 
 Employing well their art; 
 
 They serve, it seems to me, 
 To soothe the troubled heart. 
 
 Here pleasures all may find, 
 
 And charms of rich degree; 
 An ordinary mind 
 
 From these will never flee. 
 
 But, ah! eventually 
 Beauty and joy depart, 
 
 Leaving no harmony 
 To soothe the troubled heart. 
 
 The other way rock-lined 
 
 And rugged seems to be; 
 No charm is there to bind 
 
 The traveler, fancy-free. 
 
 But oh, what ecstasy 
 Thru weary souls shall dart 
 
 When Christ comes — blest be He ! — 
 To soothe the troubled heart! 
 
 L'Envoi. 
 
 To Jesus bow the knee, 
 
 Who heals the bitterest smart. 
 
 He comes — He hears our plea — 
 To soothe the troubled heart. 
 
 12 
 
Religious 
 
 &<xtsitx. 
 
 Awake, O soul that sleepeth! 
 
 The shadows of the night 
 Have fled, O soul that weepeth, 
 
 And Christ shall give thee light. 
 Why sit in deepest darkness, 
 
 All joy and gladness fled? 
 Rejoice! the living Savior 
 
 Arises from the dead. 
 
 As at His birth the angels 
 
 Sang praises to our King, 
 So at His resurrection 
 
 Let mortal voices ring. 
 Over the ages' darkness, 
 
 Over the reign of tears, 
 To light the coming nations, 
 
 The risen Lord appears. 
 
 Then waken, soul that sleepeth, 
 
 Attune thy lyre anew, 
 And, singing gladsome praises, 
 
 Thy risen Savior view. 
 Then on this Easter morning 
 
 Let sorrow flee away. 
 May Christ fill every bosom 
 
 With peace and joy for aye. 
 
 tU £*B8a$. 
 
 Sweet Sabbath morn ! Thy dawning light seems fairer 
 
 And clad in brighter hues than other days; 
 The air seems balmier, and nature hastens 
 To sing her gladdest hymn of ardent praise; 
 And faces all are brighter, 
 And burdened hearts grow lighter, 
 And e'en the birds are caroling new lays. 
 
 13 
 
Fragments 
 
 A solemn calm the atmosphere pervadeth; 
 The kine low softly as they rise from rest. 
 Both youth and sire appreciate the goodness 
 Of God, our Heavenly Father, who knew best 
 When He this day of gladness 
 Gave us to ease our sadness, 
 Convincing us that we indeed are blest. 
 
 Sweet Sabbath morn! Did we but use thee rightly, 
 
 What joyful anthems would pervade the air; 
 What myriad peans on seraphic pinions 
 
 Would soar from hearts delivered from all care. 
 O day of days most pleasant, 
 Sweet rest for prince and peasant! 
 Thy dawn in hut or palace breathes peace there. 
 
 (& £Jong for Cflifbren'* ©ctg. 
 
 Jesus, our Savior, in true adoration 
 Humbly we bow on this festival day; 
 
 Thus would we see every kindred and nation 
 Seeking thy temples, their homage to pay. 
 
 Chorus: 
 Thou art the stone which the builders rejected, 
 
 Thus Thou the head of the corner became ; 
 Rock by whom David of old was protected, 
 
 Ever enduring, forever the same. 
 
 Thee will we honor in songs of rejoicing; 
 
 Sing we thy power and glory, O Lord! 
 Ever thy goodness may we be found voicing — 
 
 Center and climax of God's holy word. 
 
 Thou art the stone chiseled out of the mountain, 
 Cut from the mountain without human hands. 
 
 Author of truth, of salvation the fountain, 
 Thou shalt as conqueror reign in all lands. 
 
 14 
 
Religious 
 
 Mother, the angels are calling, 
 
 They're coming to bear me away. 
 The day has been long, and so dreary, 
 
 And, Mother, I ask not to stay. 
 You've always been kind to me, Mother, 
 
 No task was too hard to perform, 
 But earth is so dark and so chilly, 
 
 While heaven is cheery and warm. 
 
 And I'll not be lonesome there, Mother, 
 
 For out from the windows I see 
 Two rosy-cheeked, starry-eyed cherubs, 
 
 And they, too, are beckoning me. 
 Their names you can guess, can't you, Mother ? 
 
 There's Florence and Martha, who came 
 To earth for a brief, fleeting visit, 
 
 And now have been given a new name. 
 
 And Grandmother, too, will be waiting. 
 
 I do not remember her quite, 
 So long since she lay in her coffin, 
 
 So long since we laid her from sight. 
 But up there in heaven I shall know her, 
 
 With Florence and Martha so fair ; 
 No, Mother, I shall not be lonely, 
 
 For, best of all, Jesus is there. 
 
 Come closer, dear Mother, and Father, 
 
 And Alice, and Sidney, and Ed., 
 And Lem, and wee Neale, and Mondamy, 
 
 Come closer and stand round my bed. 
 The angels are coming, dear Mother, 
 
 I see them — don't you ? — in the sky. 
 They're lifting me, bearing me upward — 
 
 Father, Mother, and loved ones, good-by ! 
 
 15 
 
Fragments 
 
 (gt feament 
 
 Oh, the wasted years ! 
 
 Oh, the squandered life ! 
 Oh, the rain of tears ! 
 
 Oh, the bitter strife ! 
 Oh, the sickening noise, 
 
 And the throbbing pain ! 
 Give me back the joys 
 
 Of my youth again. 
 
 Oh, the vows unkept, 
 
 And the falseness shown! 
 While the truth has slept, 
 
 Deeds of ill were sown. 
 Oh, the vain regret ! 
 
 Oh, the goodness dead ! 
 Oh, the sadness yet, 
 
 Then in folly bred ! 
 
 Give me back, O God ! — 
 
 Yet it may not be, 
 For the blackened sod 
 
 Only speaks to me. 
 Take me, then, away 
 
 From the life of pain, 
 From the deadly fray, 
 
 From the cleanseless stain. 
 
 Of my youth again 
 
 Give me back the joys; 
 Stop the throbbing pain; 
 
 Hush the sickening noise; 
 Calm the bitter strife; 
 
 Dry the rain of tears. 
 Father, save this life, 
 
 Spite of wasted years ! 
 
 16 
 
Religious 
 
 Oh, man ! 
 Vain man, 
 Whose life is but a span, 
 Oft illy spent without a plan, 
 Pray tell 
 How well, 
 When sounds thy funeral knell, 
 Thou canst remorseful memories quell. 
 
 Thy life- 
 How rife 
 With scenes of greed and strife, 
 Of which thy conscience, keen-edged knife, 
 Thee warned. 
 Yet warned, 
 The still, small voice was scorned, 
 And thy base deeds thou since hast mourned. 
 
 Oh, man! 
 Strange man, 
 To crowd in such short span 
 Such able aid to Satan's plan! 
 Take care! 
 Beware ! 
 Apply thyself to prayer 
 If thou wouldst merit mansions fair. 
 
 Then "be ye also ready" when the Son of God shall come 
 To take His faithful children to His everlasting home. 
 Have you now the blest assurance that you'll reach the 
 
 heavenly goal 
 When the earth, in flames enveloped, shall be rolled up as 
 
 a scroll ? 
 
 17 
 
Fragments 
 
 When the Lord shall come in power and in majesty most 
 
 bright, 
 With a retinue of angels from the blessed realms of light, 
 With the patriarchs and prophets who of old with God did 
 
 stand, 
 The apostles, saints, and martyrs, the redeemed — a glorious 
 
 band — 
 
 Shall the Savior find you ready, with no stain upon your 
 
 heart, 
 No besetting secret evil which if shown would make you 
 
 start ; 
 No hard feelings toward your neighbor, no reproach from 
 
 friend or foe, 
 Ready when the King shall call you from his vineyard here 
 
 below ? 
 
 Therefore, "be ye also ready" — the command comes clear 
 
 and plain 
 To the children of the kingdom — when the Lord shall come 
 
 again. 
 With our lamps all trimmed and burning, to illumine 
 
 sorrow's night, 
 May we gladly hail the dawning of th' eternal kingdom's 
 
 light. 
 
 God's angels keep thee, that thy feet 
 
 Stray not into forbidden ways ; 
 And make thy lifework more and more complete 
 
 Thru all thy days. 
 
 God's angels guard thee from the sin 
 
 Of worldliness, with all its strife ; 
 That thou with Christ may hidden be within 
 
 The peaceful life. 
 
 18 
 
Religious 
 
 God's angels strengthen thee, to be, 
 And say, and do, whate'er He will; 
 
 That His great peace, deep as the boundless sea, 
 Thy life may fill. 
 
 God's angels guide thee in the path 
 
 Of usefulness where'er the need ; 
 That thou mayst many turn from future wrath 
 
 And evil deed. 
 
 God's angels guard and keep thee, friend, 
 And guide and strengthen thee alway; 
 
 Until earth's twilight gloriously end 
 In heaven's day. 
 
 ($, (gt0ion in tU §$wx&0. 
 
 ISAIAH XLIIIO. 
 
 As I listened to the sermon 
 On a pleasant Sabbath morning 
 ('Twas a Sabbath in September 
 
 When the leaves begin to turn), 
 Soft there came, like breath of incense, 
 Sweetest incense to the senses, 
 To my troubled heart a whisper, 
 
 Light as touch of morning dew : 
 
 "Fear Thou not, for I am with thee. 
 I am God; let naught dismay thee. 
 I will help ; yea, I will strengthen 
 
 In the darkest hour of need. 
 Yea, I also will uphold thee 
 With the right hand of my goodness, 
 And my righteousness forever. 
 
 Fear thou not; be not dismayed." 
 
 19 
 
Fragments 
 
 Then a wondrous calm came o'er me 
 As I pondered on the promise, 
 And I trusted in the Savior 
 
 From that very day and hour. 
 And my troubles seemed to vanish 
 Like the mists before the sunlight, 
 And where once was thickest darkness 
 
 Shone the radiance of His light. 
 
 O ye wanderer on life's journey, 
 Let not trials overwhelm you ; 
 Listen to the gracious promise 
 
 He has given in His Word : 
 "Fear thou not, for I am with thee," 
 He has spoken to all nations, 
 Spoken it to every creature — 
 
 He has spoken it to you. 
 
 Will you not accept the promise 
 Wholly, freely, as He makes it ? 
 Then your life shall be a triumph 
 
 All your earthly journey thru. 
 And when with the ransomed gathered, 
 Round the throne of God in Heaven, 
 Such a song of praise you'll utter 
 
 As was never known on earth. 
 
 %tmz 4)nfg. 
 
 Come weal or come there wo, 
 Come poverty or wealth, 
 
 Caress or villain's blow, 
 Sickness or health, 
 
 This only will I know — 
 Christ Jesus. 
 
 20 
 
Religious 
 
 Come sorrow or come joy, 
 Come friends or lonely lot, 
 
 Pure gold or base alloy, 
 Palace or cot, 
 
 Let none my powers employ 
 But Jesus. 
 
 Be life's sky dark or bright, 
 Lord, may I follow on, 
 
 And learn to tread aright 
 Where thou hast gone, 
 
 Loving, by faith and sight, 
 My Jesus. 
 
 $ $<XX<XpQt<XBt. 
 isaiah xxv : i -9. 
 
 O Lord, Thou art my God ; I'll Thee exalt, 
 
 I'll praise thy name, for Thou hast done great things; 
 Thy counsels old are faithfulness and truth, 
 
 Thy judgment to a city ruin brings. 
 The palace of the stranger to thy truth 
 
 Shall be brought down, it ne'er built up shall be; 
 The strong of earth shall glorify thy name, 
 
 And nations terrible shall worship Thee. 
 For Thou hast been a comfort to the poor, 
 
 A helper to the needy in distress, 
 A safety from the storm, a shade from heat — 
 
 These attributes show forth thy righteousness. 
 And when the blast of terror-bringing foes 
 
 Breaks on us, as a storm against a wall, 
 Thou shalt bring down the noise of enemies ; 
 
 Thy wrath most terrible on them shall fall. 
 
 21 
 
Fragments 
 
 As heat within the shadow of a cloud, 
 Ev'n as the hot wind in a desert place, 
 
 Thou, Lord, shalt wither them that 'gainst us rise; 
 They cannot bear the glory of thy face. 
 
 ii. 
 
 And in this mountain shall the Lord of Hosts 
 
 Before His people all a feast prepare — 
 A feast of wines, of wines upon the lees, 
 
 Of fat things full of marrow, rich and rare. 
 And in this mountain shall the Lord destroy 
 
 The covering over all the people cast — 
 The veil that o'er the nations now is spread 
 
 Our God will cause to disappear at last. 
 Then death in victory shall be swallowed up; 
 
 Jehovah God shall wipe away the tears 
 From off all faces, and from off the earth 
 
 He'll take the dread rebuke of former years. 
 The Lord hath spoken it, and in that day 
 
 "Jehovah is our God!" shall cry each voice. 
 We've waited for Him, and He will us save; 
 
 In His salvation we will e'er rejoice. 
 
 &ne in §&ix JE)unbreb <mb <£t<$fg. 
 
 "In Arizona but one person in 680 is a professing Christian."-— The Midland 
 (Chicago), December 7, 1896. 
 
 One in six hundred and eighty — 
 
 Oh, can the assertion be true? 
 The gospel is preached to so many ! 
 
 Oh, are its professors so few? 
 One in six hundred and eighty 
 
 Escapes from the power of sin, 
 Yet the souls of others are precious, 
 
 For sinners our Lord came to win. 
 
 22 
 
Religious 
 
 Sin gives to its devotees pleasure, 
 
 And riches, and honor, and fame; 
 And sin is too often our ruler, 
 
 Though America's Christian in name. 
 One in six hundred and eighty — 
 
 Oh, what a lamentable fact! 
 Up, Christian, 'tis time to stop idling; 
 
 The need of the hour is to act ! 
 
 Gird on the good Sword of the Spirit, 
 
 That never was yet known to fail. 
 Go out into village and city — 
 
 The forces of evil assail. 
 The battle is not of man's making; 
 
 The issues are placed in His care, 
 Who, tried in all things like as we are, 
 
 Has promised our burdens to share. 
 
 ^ome (J)eopfe. 
 
 I am looking for some people 
 
 Whom I'd like to get to church, 
 And perhaps, my Christian reader, 
 
 You may aid me in my search. 
 First, I'd like to find the fellow 
 
 Who has labored night and day 
 To turn out his aged pastor ; 
 
 As he failed, he stays away. 
 
 And the "faithful" lady member 
 
 Who thought missions didn't pay; 
 We could use at home all money — 
 
 Should not send a cent away. 
 Floods of missionary dollars 
 
 Came — the Church is living yet, 
 And in prosperous condition ; 
 
 She — is absent, we regret. 
 
 23 
 
Fragments 
 
 Then the man with "good" excuses, 
 
 Who lives quite too far away 
 To attend a weekly service, 
 
 Even on the brightest day. 
 Miss communion? He "don't like to," 
 
 Yet he comes but thrice a year. 
 So on nine and forty Lord's Days 
 
 This church member don't appear. 
 
 There's the politician, also; 
 
 Every week he makes a speech, 
 But asked by the Superintendent, 
 
 He "don't know enough" to teach. 
 He's sincere, no doubt, yet never 
 
 Would admit he tries to shirk. 
 But he comes — and goes — in silence, 
 
 While another does the work. 
 
 Then I want to find the lady 
 
 Who's too busy (yes, indeed,) 
 To attend Endeavor meeting — 
 
 When some person is to lead 
 Whom she doesn't just quite fancy. 
 
 But God's people meet and pray, 
 And receive the promised blessing, 
 
 While she — simply stays away. 
 
 There are others, too, (I'm sorry) 
 
 Whom I'd like to gather in, 
 For in every congregation 
 
 There are folks to these akin. 
 But if these could all be gathered 
 
 At the gospel well to drink, 
 Would they take the water freely 
 
 Offered? Would they, do you think? 
 
 24 
 
THE TENDER PASSION. 
 
 %t feooeb %tx. 
 
 He loved her! 
 
 On the sandy beach they strayed,. 
 Hand clasped in hand. An unknown boy of ten, 
 A girl of seven. The parting time was near, 
 And soon their paths would lead them far apart. 
 Only a boy ! What recked he yet of love ? 
 What had he tasted of the immortal fire 
 That brightens all it touches ? What knew he 
 Of passion in its deep, ennobling form, 
 That, in the crucible of hopes and fears, 
 And glad fruition, ultimately gained, 
 Seizes on man and sways him as the reed 
 Is shaken by the storm? And yet, even he 
 Within his youthful bosom seemed to feel 
 That she alone in all the untried world 
 Would e'er be aught to him. And she ? Oh, no, 
 No love had yet awakened in her breast. 
 She simply trusted — what he said was true. 
 She grieved that they must part, she'd known so much 
 Of happiness while playing at his side. 
 She wept; he kissed her, and she wondered why 
 That kiss so differed from the good-night kiss 
 She had so oft experienced before. 
 They parted on the morrow, at the dawn. 
 
 He loved her! 
 
 Full ten years had passed away 
 When they again stood face to face. And time 
 Had sternly dealt with both. The awkward lad 
 
 25 
 
Fragments 
 
 Was now a man; the girl a woman grown. 
 
 By chance they met amid the jostling crowd, 
 
 And he walked by her side, his heart aglow 
 
 With that he could not speak. But she felt naught 
 
 Of passion. To her mind it only seemed 
 
 But natural that he should worship her. 
 
 And when again he spoke of love, she turned 
 
 A puzzled gaze upon him; so that he 
 
 Was sickened to the soul with anxious fear. 
 
 She had her art — it was her all in all; 
 
 She prized his friendship, but she loved him not. 
 
 And so again they parted ; he with hope 
 
 That yet the future might some blessing hold 
 
 In store for him; she, thinking not of him, 
 
 But of success she fancied to attain 
 
 With brush and palette in the artist's hand. 
 
 He loved her! 
 
 Yea, so much he worshiped her 
 That when his eyes were blinded and his friend 
 Must lead him wheresoever he would go, 
 He scorned to let her know his hapless fate — 
 Lest it should trouble her. But over him 
 The God of love was watching tenderly. 
 His friend sought for her — found her — told her all, 
 And instantly the smouldering spark of love 
 Was fanned to flame. Art was forgotten, quite. 
 His love had conquered, but at what a cost ! 
 And yet methinks 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet 
 To know her present; and his memory 
 Supplied the vision that his eyes ne'er saw. 
 
 He loved her! 
 
 What a world of meaning oft 
 Lies hidden in those three small, simple words! 
 And yet how oft that love is never prized 
 By her whose charms inspired it. For 'tis true 
 That woman may adore, and yet not know 
 
 26 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 Her passion till her lover, stricken low, 
 Lies helpless at her feet. Oh! happy man 
 Who through affliction gains a woman's love. 
 Thrice happy she of whom it may be said, 
 'Neath sunny skies or mid dark sorrow's night, 
 He loved her ! 
 
 &ot>e'e %\0. 
 
 The light of the world in human eyes 
 Is the light of love that hidden lies 
 
 In orbs that are leal and true; 
 For love is the motive power of earth, 
 And love is the mother giving birth 
 
 To all that is rare and new. 
 
 The light of the world is the light of love, 
 The sweetest music of heaven above, 
 
 Where the purest love is known. 
 And the heart that has best this lesson learned, 
 That clearest has nature's soul discerned, 
 
 Is nearest to heaven's throne. 
 
 Then sing of love as the days go by, 
 The love that expands as the moments fly, 
 
 With ever increasing glow. 
 As the eye reveals what the heart would hide, 
 Affection cannot concealed abide; 
 
 Love softens the harshest blow. 
 
 £onefg. 
 
 The robin gaily carols amid the leafy trees ; 
 The happy bluebird twitters his lovesong to the breeze ; 
 And every living creature seems happy, bright, and gay, 
 But I am sad and lonely, for thou art far away. 
 
 27 
 
Fragments 
 
 Gfit £tto (§<xxU. 
 
 Setting out on the fathomless sea of life, 
 
 A man and a woman launched their bark; 
 The tempests roared and storms were rife — 
 
 Before stretched the ocean, grim and dark. 
 The waves of trouble rolled mountain high, 
 
 The winds of affliction howled and blew, 
 Yet the man nor the woman e'er heaved a sigh, 
 
 Each heart to each other heart proved true. 
 
 And out from that haven another bark 
 
 Glided when sunlight was on the sea, 
 The woman sang gaily as any lark — 
 
 Laughed her companion in manly glee. 
 The ocean was free from the troublous wave, 
 
 Affliction's wind ruffled not their sail; 
 Yet the heart of the man grew dark and grave, 
 
 The woman's carol became a wail. 
 
 Both barks sailed on o'er the sea of life, 
 
 And methought an angel stood by my side 
 And whispered : "Choose thou ! the inward strife, 
 
 With thy craft untouched by the vengeful tide, 
 Or the heart that is always calm, serene, 
 
 And she who shall ever a helper prove ; 
 For the highest billows seem naught when seen 
 
 Thru the eye of confident trust and love." 
 
 Happy the pair whose path shall be thru the gale or the 
 blinding storm, 
 
 For time is the type of eternity for the hearts that with love 
 beat warm. 
 
 But even the blessings of wealth must pall when hearts 
 shall divided be, 
 
 And the sweetness of life will be turned to gall in the ab- 
 sence of amity. 
 
 28 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 fafeb. 
 
 The waltz is o'er — the last sweet strains die out; 
 
 Terpsichore's gay slaves, in merry rout, 
 Resume their interrupted tete-a-tetes, 
 And free their minds in gossiping debates, 
 
 While falls in love full many a witless lout. 
 
 Each lady laves herself, with mimic pout, 
 In compliments admirers throw about, 
 
 Which constitute a salve no woman hates — 
 The waltz is o'er. 
 
 Before he leaves, some poor man's heart's redoubt 
 Coquets have stormed, and dragged him, quivering, out; 
 A willing captive, true, yet death awaits 
 His budding aspirations, for the fates 
 Make this remark — the meaning, none can doubt — 
 The waltz is o'er. 
 
 to (Hftg feot>e. 
 
 When darkness lulls the weary world to rest, 
 
 When stars from eerie hights begin to peep, 
 When birds are safely housed within their nest, 
 
 And over all there broods a tranquil sleep, 
 'Tis then my soul the wing of fancy mounts, 
 
 My spirit near thy cottage hovers free; 
 Nor can I quench the tide from love's own founts 
 
 That goes, in rich abundance, out to thee. 
 
 When early dawn th' horizon paints with gold, 
 
 And morning brings the robins from their nest, 
 Yet still thine image in my heart I hold, 
 
 And thoughts of thee well up within my breast. 
 At eve or morn, in darkness or in day, 
 
 Thou art enthroned within my inmost heart ; 
 Oh, may the time ne'er come, I ever pray, 
 
 When thou shalt bid me from thy side depart. 
 
 29 
 
Fragments 
 
 %tx QRefurn. 
 
 When she returned, Love's glorious day- 
 Resumed its undisputed sway; 
 
 How cold the warmest friendship seemed 
 When her dear presence ne'er redeemed 
 The hours that were so leaden gray. 
 
 But how effulgent was the ray 
 
 Of mutual love, that lives for aye, 
 
 Which on my lonely pathway streamed 
 When she returned. 
 
 Across the lea, an airy fay, 
 I spied her, and the world grew gay. 
 With sweet perfume my study teemed, 
 As in my heart the radiance beamed 
 Of love — the love that lives alway — 
 When she returned ! 
 
 (prospect 
 
 What shall I wish for my darling today? 
 
 Nothing but laughter and song? 
 Naught but the life of the child at play? 
 
 Naught of the woman that's strong? 
 This will I wish for my darling today : 
 
 Purity, goodness, and truth; 
 Over the hearts of her friends perfect sway; 
 
 Soul-lifting, help-giving youth. 
 
 What shall I wish for my darling today? 
 
 Wealth and its constant alarms? 
 Beauty of feature and form alway? 
 
 Ne'er fading physical charms ? 
 This will I wish for my darling today : 
 
 Sparseness or wealth, as God will ; 
 Strength, if in suffering, ever to say, 
 
 "Father, I'll bear and be still." 
 
 30 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 What shall I give to my darling today ? 
 
 Silver and gold have I none; 
 Only a heart, purged in fiery fray — 
 
 Much of its dross having flown; 
 Only a loyalty born of tense pain ; 
 
 Never a thought but to free 
 The sunshine of life which has come after rain — 
 
 This, darling, I offer to thee. 
 
 What shall I bear for my darling today? 
 
 The plaudits and praise of the throng? 
 The friendship of riches, of highest degree, 
 
 The burden to be of their song? 
 This will I bear for my darling today : 
 
 Reproaches, and slanders, and shame ; 
 The object of envy and dark jealousy — 
 
 If I may but honor her name. 
 
 What shall I expect from my darling today? 
 
 The wealth of her glorious love. 
 The light of her presence sends darkness away — 
 
 The hawk has succumbed to the dove ! 
 What shall I expect from my darling today ? 
 
 Love, tender and true, freely given. 
 Thus panoplied I can endure any fray; 
 
 Thus shielded, at last enter heaven. 
 
 When you lie down to sleep, 
 Ere slumber you see, 
 
 Dear, be certain to keep 
 
 One bright thought for me. 
 
 At the dawning of day, 
 Awakened from rest, 
 
 May your thoughts flee away 
 To one you love best ! 
 
 31 
 
Fragments 
 
 Ut 0irf 3 ©ib Qtof «et. 
 
 Remembrance brings before my gaze 
 
 Full many a vision bright, 
 Of pretty maids, whose winsome ways 
 
 My love did oft invite. 
 
 But, Prince, mine is a sorry plight, 
 For she on whom I set 
 
 My heart is far away tonight — 
 The girl I did not get. 
 
 Here relics lie of bygone days, 
 
 Which seldom see the light: 
 Rings, pins, and kerchiefs, in whose praise 
 
 I'd amorous songs indite. 
 
 Yet fate has shown its temper, quite, 
 For, out of all, I've met 
 
 No gift from her of whom I write — 
 The girl I did not get. 
 
 She promised that love's kindling blaze 
 
 Would never suffer blight, 
 But, like the rising sun's warm rays, 
 
 Should e'er increase in might. 
 
 One day she vanished from my sight. 
 Long years have passed, and yet 
 
 I still remember, day or night, 
 The girl I did not get. 
 
 L'Envoi. 
 
 Prince, I am but a lonesome wight, 
 Whose eyes with tears are wet; 
 
 And all because of that fair sprite — 
 The girl I did not get. 
 
 32 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 t%t «irf T»Jo C<xptuxti> ®te. 
 
 There was a time I thought to praise 
 
 A sprite who proved untrue; 
 Who vowed to guard love's ardent blaze, 
 
 Then mockingly withdrew. 
 
 But such vain creatures never slew 
 True manhood, you'll agree. 
 
 So now I would present to you 
 The girl who captured me ! 
 
 When round my heart those summer days 
 
 Dan Cupid's archers flew, 
 In vain I sought the siege to raise — 
 
 The lines still closer grew. 
 
 Fraught with allurements not a few 
 Their arrows came to be, 
 
 And soon I had surrendered to 
 The girl who captured me. 
 
 I know not whether winning ways, 
 
 Or eyes of azure blue, 
 (Whose fond expression oft betrays 
 
 Far more than meant to do), 
 
 Were really what made me sue 
 To femininity: 
 
 Yet still with fondest pride I view 
 The girl who captured me. 
 
 L'Envoi. 
 
 Congratulate me, Prince, for few 
 
 Who in this world you see 
 Can sing e'en half the praises due 
 
 The girl who captured me. 
 
 33 
 
Fragments 
 
 ®tg feittfe (Bitf Wif6 %M>d &&*. 
 
 If on the past I meditate, 
 
 The golden years so swiftly flown, 
 
 Or else essay to penetrate 
 Into the future, yet unknown, 
 To fickleness I may be prone ; 
 
 Still I must ever eulogize 
 
 (True praise has no uncertain tone) 
 
 My little girl with hazel eyes. 
 
 It may be that I underrate 
 
 Some faces now familiar grown, 
 And sing of laughing, saucy Kate, 
 
 When Ethel pines for me alone. 
 
 'Tis natural that the rose fullblown 
 Should budding sweetness minimize; 
 
 But dearest of them all I own 
 My little girl with hazel eyes. 
 
 Altho I would not any hate, 
 
 My heart lies but a frigid zone, 
 While smiling maidens, tempting fate, 
 
 To me have countless favors shown. 
 
 They may not reap where they have sown, 
 For I would win the richest prize; 
 
 So in my heart of hearts enthrone 
 My little girl with hazel eyes. 
 
 L'Envoi. 
 
 With flowers may life's path be strown, 
 And lead withal neath sunny skies, 
 
 Bringing you neither sigh nor moan, 
 My little girl with hazel eyes ! 
 
 34 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 %tx 3nffuence. 
 
 Why is it that the trees appear more green 
 Than any seemed to be this time last year? 
 
 More fair they are than ever they have been — 
 Because my love is near. 
 
 Why is it that the song of blithest bird 
 
 Seemed ne'er so sweet to me in former days ? 
 
 Because the harshest note is soft when heard 
 While near my loved one stays. 
 
 Why is it that the perfume of the flowers 
 
 Is richer, rarer, freer, sweeter now 
 Than e'er before ? Ah ! in the passing hours 
 
 I've heard my darling's vow. 
 
 Why is it that the world is fair to see 
 
 Where yesterday the land was brown and sere? 
 
 Ah ! yesterday a slave, today I'm free — 
 But still a slave, I fear. 
 
 Why is it that my prospects seem so bright, 
 Where yestere'en I almost quit the field ? 
 
 An angel challenged me as dawned the light, 
 And caused my heart to yield. 
 
 O love, and light, and life ! — great trinity, 
 Than all else greater — what have I to fear ? 
 
 The days pass by, but life is sweet to me, 
 Because my love is near. 
 
 As Sol lights up the eastern sky 
 
 And drives away the darksome shades of night, 
 So every day is bright when thou art nigh — 
 
 So fades with thee the light. 
 
 35 
 
Fragments 
 
 ©uring (&00ence. 
 
 If you were here tonight 
 What would I do? 
 
 I'd fold my arms up tight, 
 That would I do. 
 
 But in their close embrace 
 
 Would be a form of grace 
 And beauty, too. 
 
 If you were here tonight 
 What would I do? 
 
 I'd smother out of sight 
 With kisses — you. 
 
 And each caress would be 
 
 A pledge of love for thee, 
 And fealty, too. 
 
 If you were here tonight 
 What would I do? 
 
 Within those eyes so bright, 
 Of violet hue, 
 
 I'd read of joy and peace, 
 
 And bid all sorrow cease — 
 Dear eyes of blue. 
 
 $loh 3* (Serf. 
 
 My darling, could I bring to thee 
 Some treasure rich, some legacy 
 
 Which should convey a lasting good, 
 I'd bring thee love, I would. 
 
 For time and for eternity, 
 This life and that which is to be, 
 
 The heart's desire, the spirit's food, 
 
 Is love, all-understood. 
 
 36 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 £$fg Cuptb. 
 
 Cupid stood before my door, 
 
 Cunning imp, in friendship's guise ; 
 
 Promised me of pleasures more 
 Than are found in Paradise. 
 
 Cunning imp, in friendship's guise 
 He purloined my throbbing heart, 
 
 While the glances from his eyes 
 Caused me many a bitter smart. 
 
 He purloined my throbbing heart, 
 
 While I faintly murmured nay. 
 With true aim he sent his dart 
 
 On that fatal summer's day. 
 
 While I faintly murmured nay 
 
 He a winning smile bestowed. 
 Thus he stole my heart away. 
 
 Then in triumph off he rode. 
 
 He a winning smile bestowed 
 
 As he left me to my fate — 
 Left me with a heavy load, 
 
 Yet I could not bear him hate. 
 
 As he left me to my fate 
 
 "Come back, dearest one !" I cried, 
 For I saw my heart's true mate 
 
 Walking blithely by his side. 
 
 'Come back, dearest one !" I cried, 
 
 As I ne'er had cried before. 
 Lo ! ere I my eyes had dried, 
 
 Cupid stood before my door ! 
 
 37 
 
Fragments 
 
 Wife §>U ZaxxitB. 
 
 The gathering twilight presages 
 The closing of the day; 
 
 I sit and write, but thought has flown 
 To thee, so far away. 
 
 I had not thought in so short space 
 
 I could so lonely be, 
 Or that the ties could be so strong 
 
 Which bind my soul to thee. 
 
 This is my prayer, that in his care 
 God will my darling keep, 
 
 When in the sky the sun is high, 
 Ere stars begin to peep. 
 
 And in the calm and silent night 
 When wrapt in sleep you lie, 
 
 May myriad angels hover round 
 To breathe a lullaby. 
 
 (JJtg £reamtre. 
 
 Sing me a song of my treasure, 
 Soul of my soul for aye ; 
 
 Laughing and smiling, 
 
 Dull hours beguiling, 
 
 Lending me strength for the day. 
 
 Duty is always a pleasure 
 When she is lending aid. 
 
 There is none other, 
 
 Friend, sister or mother, 
 So dear as this little maid. 
 
 38 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 @U 3f Was, dub 30, anb <Ew £$<*ff (ge. 
 
 The moon came up o'er the waters, 
 And flooded the bay with light, 
 
 As we sat on the sands at Charleston, 
 One quiet September night. 
 
 She played with a rose in her fingers; 
 
 I toyed with the rose in her hair, 
 A-thinking the while Rose, the maiden, 
 
 Than thousands of roses more fair. 
 
 The moon rose high in the heavens, 
 The wavelets shimmered and shone, 
 
 Like the diamond there on her finger 
 Which branded her somebody's own. 
 
 The hours wore on, yet we lingered ; 
 
 We knew that night we must part, 
 Yet each of us loving the other 
 
 With all the strength of the heart. 
 
 The breeze blew soft from the southward, 
 
 I claspt her lily-like hand ; 
 Her foot beat nervously, quickly, 
 
 A light tattoo on the sand. 
 
 Back and forth went the promenaders, 
 
 Later and later it grew; 
 On the bay there floated a silent hulk 
 
 Deserted by all of her crew. 
 
 She spoke : "Dear one, fate is cruel ; 
 
 We float on the wide life-sea 
 As helpless as that dark vessel — 
 
 Fit emblem of you and me. 
 
 39 
 
Fragments 
 
 "Yes, fate, dear heart, is so cruel, 
 But God over all is good, 
 And somehow I feel I can trust Him 
 Who gives to the birds their food. 
 
 "Dear heart, then be not discouraged; 
 Our paths henceforth lie apart, 
 But take this thought for the future — 
 You still have all of my heart " 
 
 Her voice broke out into sobbing, 
 Her head drooped low on my breast ; 
 
 So natural, too, was the action, 
 As a bird sinks down on its nest. 
 
 The moon shone high o'er the waters, 
 And flooded the bay with light, 
 
 As we said farewell on the Charleston sands 
 That quiet September night. 
 
 Softly o'er valley and mountain 
 Fall the last rays of the sun ; 
 
 Bidding the brook and the fountain 
 Herald the nighttime begun. 
 
 Twilight is hastening, hurrying — 
 Darkness puts daylight to flight, 
 
 Planets and comets are scurrying 
 Out from their hiding-place bright. 
 
 Now in her chariot of fire 
 
 From her retreat comes the moon, 
 Mounting the heavens still higher, 
 
 Aping the brightness of noon. 
 
 40 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 Awed at the strange apparition, 
 I pause on my homeward way, 
 
 Gazing at heaven's partition — 
 Up at the Milky Way ; 
 
 And as the night hours are fleeting, 
 Into my vision there creeps 
 
 Phyllis, with gesture entreating, 
 Who in the greenwood now sleeps. 
 
 She was my heart's only treasure ; 
 
 Here is the stile where we met. 
 Hers was a love beyond measure — 
 
 Mine will not let me forget. 
 
 She of the golden brown tresses, 
 Hazel eyes, brilliant as stars, 
 
 Always returned my caresses 
 Here at the old meadow bars. 
 
 Hasten, ye shadows, and cover 
 Well with your silvery light 
 
 Phyllis's grave ; while her lover 
 Waits here in vain thru the night. 
 
 Hush, O my heart ! She but slumbers. 
 
 Hush ! lest ye wake her too soon. 
 For she must rest till God's numbers 
 
 Rise to inherit God's noon. 
 
 Back to my now sleepless pillow, 
 
 Phyllis, my darling, I go; 
 Leaving my heart neath the willow 
 
 Where I have seen you laid low. 
 
 Back to my cottage in sorrow, 
 Bearing a dull, aching pain ; 
 
 Waiting a blessed tomorrow 
 When I shall greet you again. 
 
 41 
 
Fragments 
 
 Softly o'er valley and mountain 
 Comes the first herald of day ; 
 
 So, by the brook and the fountain, 
 Saddened, I hurry away. 
 
 Somften. 
 
 Once, in the days of the long ago, 
 
 You were my all. 
 Now, when the fierce winds of sorrow blow 
 Over my pathway, do you know 
 
 What doth befall? 
 
 Then you were always, my hope and stay, 
 
 Close by my side. 
 Now, when I, saddened and humbled, stray 
 Over life's lonely desert way, 
 
 Where is my guide? 
 
 Then, as I lay on your loving breast, 
 
 Peace came apace. 
 Now, like one storm-tossed on billows' crest, 
 Vainly I wander, seeking rest, 
 
 Far from thy face. 
 
 Tho some may say that you loved me not — 
 
 I'll ne'er reply. 
 Yours is a brilliant and happy lot — 
 Mine but a shadow. Alone, forgot, 
 
 I can but die! 
 
 42 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 (An account of a trip, in fancy, written for the amusement of a dear friend.) 
 COLUMBIA. 
 
 The whistle sounds, 
 
 The bell is rung — 
 The engine bounds 
 
 Along the rail. 
 The last farewell 
 
 With eye and tongue 
 Is like a knell 
 
 Or mournful tale. 
 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 Two hours here 
 
 To wait a train 
 That may be late. 
 
 (Oh, what a bore!) 
 Here Teddy dear 
 
 Resides, who fain 
 Would rule the State 
 
 For four years more. 
 
 BALTIMORE. 
 
 Here I might go 
 
 And see where fire 
 Struck full a blow 
 
 To son and sire. 
 But I prefer 
 
 To sit and write 
 A line to her 
 
 I left last night. 
 
 r 
 
 43 
 
Fragments 
 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 The land of Penn 
 
 Now comes in view. 
 Sleepy? Well, then, 
 
 I can sleep, too. 
 Dear Pansy, still 
 
 I think of thee, 
 And wonder will 
 
 You dream of me? 
 
 HARRISBURG. 
 
 The Keystone State, 
 
 Of strength and power, 
 Issues commands 
 
 With much ado. 
 Dear Pansy, late 
 
 Has grown the hour. 
 I fold my hands 
 
 And dream of you. 
 
 PITTSBURG. 
 
 Noontide has passed, 
 
 As on we roll, 
 But now at last 
 
 I reach my goal. 
 There mother stands, 
 
 And sister, too. 
 (While hands clasp hands 
 
 / think of — you!) 
 
 FREEPORT. 
 
 Mid childhood's flowers 
 
 I rove once more; 
 Fast fly the hours — 
 
 The dream is o'er. 
 Each childish joy 
 
 That once was warm 
 Now seems to cloy — 
 
 Farewell, old farm! 
 
 44 
 
The Tender Passion 
 
 NEW YORK CITY. 
 
 I view today 
 
 The jostling throng, 
 The fierce melee, 
 
 The haunts of wrong, 
 The Bridge's jam, 
 
 The trolley war. 
 There is no calm 
 
 In Gotham's jar! 
 
 BRIGHTON. 
 
 I seek the shore 
 
 At Brighton's sands, 
 Where billows roar 
 
 Which lave all lands ; 
 Upon their crest 
 
 I soon shall be, 
 En route to rest, 
 
 And home, and thee ! 
 
 AT SEA. 
 
 Our vessel rides 
 
 The restless waves, 
 And onward glides 
 
 O'er ocean caves, 
 Past bright Cape May 
 
 And Hatteras' roar — 
 Another day! 
 
 Hail Charleston's shore! 
 
 NEARING HOME. 
 
 Hush, heart, thy wild, 
 
 Wild beating now. 
 Art thou a child ? 
 
 With sunny brow 
 And gladsome tone 
 
 My leal heart sings — 
 I seek my own 
 
 On eagle's wings. 
 
 45 
 
Fragments 
 
 COLUMBIA. 
 
 I eagerly 
 
 Gaze on the throng, 
 My fay to see — 
 
 heart, a song! 
 My Pansy sweet 
 
 1 see once more. 
 Now stays my feet — 
 
 The journey's o'er. 
 
 ©o 3 ton £6ee? 
 
 Do I love thee ? Canst thou ask ? 
 Loving is a pleasant task 
 When thou art the one addressed, 
 Closely to my bosom pressed. 
 Words cannot express the measure 
 Of my love for thee, my treasure. 
 
 Do I love thee ? As the stream 
 Flowing from volcanic seam; 
 As the lava torrent, free, 
 Irresistible — to thee 
 Flows, unchanging, all my love. 
 I adore thee, precious dove! 
 
 Do I love thee? Darling one, 
 Life for me had just begun 
 When I heard thee first confess, 
 In reply to love's caress, 
 Thou didst verily love me. 
 Can I aught but worship thee? 
 
 46 
 
GENERAL. 
 
 3n t#e (panorama of £ife. 
 
 Only a simple blacksmith, tawny, and grave, and strong, 
 Yet he told me the strangest story of unintentional wrong. 
 Perhaps you would like to hear it, so I'll tarry a moment 
 
 here, 
 And tell it just as he told it — his story, so sad and queer. 
 
 Well, no, my wife is not dead, sir, but nevertheless to me 
 She is dead as if she were buried beneath the waves of the 
 
 sea. 
 Unfaithful ? No, not a bit, sir ; but fate was against us both ; 
 The while she was with me my Mary was always the soul of 
 
 truth. 
 
 She had been married before, sir, but her husband fell in 
 
 fight 
 At Fredericksburg, with the many who died to defend the 
 
 right. 
 'Twas five years later I won her, a pensive but pretty bride, 
 But she hadn't forgotten the memory of him who for her 
 
 had died. 
 
 But I brought her out to Montana, and I never expect to see 
 A better wife than was Mary for five bright years to me. 
 The changing scenes brought the roses again to her pale, thin 
 
 face, 
 And happiness made her a woman of beauty and wondrous 
 
 grace. 
 
 47 
 
Fragments 
 
 And then when the baby came to us, about three years ago, 
 
 I was nearer to perfect contentment than ever again I'll 
 know. 
 
 Ah, me! those dear little fingers, those wondering eyes of 
 blue, 
 
 Were as strongest cords that closer together our heart- 
 strings drew. 
 
 Sometimes, you see, sir, the shadow would fall o'er our lit- 
 tle nest, 
 
 But it only rendered the sunshine a doubly welcome guest. 
 
 And work came to me a plenty, and my forge glowed bright 
 and strong, 
 
 And I felt so contented and happy that I often burst into 
 song. 
 
 One morning a stranger tarried to have me fasten a shoe, 
 And while I worked he stood near me, and we passed a 
 
 remark or two. 
 I noticed one arm was missing, and I asked how he lost the 
 
 limb, 
 Then as he replied I staggered and my eyes grew weak and 
 
 dim. 
 
 "At Fredericksburg," said the stranger, "my arm was shot 
 
 away." 
 "At Fredericksburg!" I repeated; "did you know Robert 
 
 May?" 
 "That's me," he said. At his answer my heart seemed 
 
 turned to lead. 
 "You ! you !" I gasped. "Come with me, then, for we long 
 
 have thought you dead." 
 
 With faltering footsteps I led him to Mary. O God ! 'twas 
 
 true. 
 Then the bitterest pangs of anguish that can ever be felt I 
 
 knew; 
 
 48 
 
General 
 
 For frozen with deadly horror she stared as with eyes of 
 
 stone, 
 And from her quivering lips fell one wild, despairing moan. 
 
 Yes, he was the love of her childhood, the husband she once 
 
 had wed, 
 And now he stood before her, whom she long had mourned 
 
 as dead. 
 And she gazed from one to the other in piteous, mute appeal, 
 While we stood rigid and breathless, with nerves as tense 
 
 as steel. 
 
 God ! 'twas a bitter trial, yet could not be reconciled ; 
 The choice must be made 'twixt husband and the father of 
 
 her child. 
 My heart was as lead in my bosom when at last she knelt 
 
 down and said, 
 "Forgive me, John! He's my husband! Here, and alive, 
 
 not dead !" 
 
 1 stooped and raised her gently, and tried to say she was 
 
 right, 
 But somehow the words I would utter, in my aching breast 
 
 stuck tight. 
 "But, John, I can't leave the baby" — like a knell the accents 
 
 fall; 
 
 God ! the loss seemed o'er whelming — my wife, my baby, 
 
 my all ! 
 
 1 cried aloud in my anguish : "What ! must I lose wife and 
 
 child? 
 Must all that is dear be yielded, naught left but a sorrow 
 
 wild? 
 Oh, think of the long, sad hours that are waiting in gloom 
 
 for me, 
 No wife to cheer with her presence, no babe to clamber my 
 
 knee! 
 
 49 
 
Fragments 
 
 "Yet the mother-love is the strongest, the purest, tenderest 
 
 flame, 
 So take her, but promise me, Mary, she shall bear her 
 
 father's name. 
 And teach her to speak of me kindly ; that surely will be no 
 
 harm, 
 For remember, I'm still her father, and my love shall be 
 
 ever warm." 
 
 One long hand-clasp from Mary, and my dream of love was 
 
 done! 
 One long embrace from baby, and my happiness all was 
 
 gone! 
 So, there by the gate, we parted, no more in life to meet, 
 But I hope for a grand reunion around God's mercy-seat. 
 
 The anvil is merrily ringing, the sparks in showers fall; 
 Yet, e'en tho the smith be singing, on his heart there rests a 
 
 pall. 
 The tale as he told it is ended, and will you not breathe a 
 
 prayer 
 That God, who knoweth all burdens, may make his lighter 
 
 to bear? 
 
 t%t (gicgcfe <Bttf. 
 
 Then here's to the health of the bicycle maid, 
 
 A vision of health and of beauty ; 
 In garments befitting, all neatly arrayed, 
 
 To pedal along seems her duty. 
 
 And here is long life to the strong, silent steed ; 
 
 Oh, may it be true to its rider! 
 As true as the writer, just wishing, indeed, 
 
 That he was at present beside her. 
 
 50 
 
General 
 
 &UX ©fb, &WX (JUt». 
 
 The papers are full of new holiday tales, 
 
 With princes, and fairies, and monarchs galore, 
 
 But when something original royalty fails 
 
 To supply, we would turn to our grandmother's store. 
 
 How well we remember, when, gathered around, 
 We listened, enchanted, to her as she told 
 
 Of the Savior who came, of the greeting He found, 
 Of the honor ascribed by the merchants of old. 
 
 Glad day when He came ; He, the greatest and best 
 That ever gained homage from angels or men, 
 
 And we rather would hear of the heavenly guest 
 Than be glutted with tales from the novelist's pen. 
 
 Gftt £$ofP3ttf feamenf. 
 
 "Glitters brightly the gold in my raven locks streaming, 
 Rich coral around my graceful neck gleaming," 
 Like a bird, free as air, o'er the wide world I roam, 
 But my heart ever turns to my old mountain home. 
 
 O'er mountain and plain roves our band, pleasure making 
 For peasant and prince — our hearts never quaking 
 At the danger unseen which we know ever roams, 
 For our spirits grow bold at the thought of our homes. 
 
 I remember the day when, my native hills leaving, 
 We hastened away, our hearts never grieving. 
 With spangles of gold and the light tamborine, 
 Ne'er a sorrowful thought ever touched us, I ween. 
 
 But afar we have strayed, and full long we've been roaming, 
 And often I sigh as I dance in the gloaming. 
 And when backward we turn, never more then to roam, 
 We will joyously join our old friends at home. 
 
 51 
 
Fragments 
 
 Gfit Srfe of t0e $0<xtknm. 
 
 Wildly the storm is raging, 
 
 Loudly the thunders roll — 
 Heaven's artillery waging 
 
 Conflict that stirs the soul. 
 Out in the tempest's darkness, 
 
 Battling with wind and wave, 
 Tosses the good ship "Harkness." 
 
 Is there no one to save? 
 
 "Men," shouts the captain, fearless, 
 
 "None but the God above 
 Knows our position cheerless, 
 
 Far from the ones we love. 
 But, lads, he is our keeper, 
 
 Whether on land or sea ; 
 He is no idle sleeper — 
 
 He cares for you and me." 
 
 Only a score of seamen, 
 
 Rough and uncouth, may be, 
 Fighting the fierce storm demon 
 
 Out on the rolling sea. 
 Never a hope to cheer them, 
 
 Never an outstretched hand 
 Came in the night to bear them 
 
 Safe to a welcome strand. 
 
 Up rose the sun at morning, 
 
 Bright shone its rays and warm — 
 Billow crests white adorning — 
 
 This the scene of the storm? 
 Where are the fearless seamen? 
 
 Where the ship, stanch and tried ? 
 Slain by the dread storm demon, 
 
 Slumbering side by side. 
 
 52 
 
General 
 
 No immortelles nor roses 
 
 Cover the heroes there; 
 But, as He did for Moses, 
 
 God made their grave with care. 
 And in that morn supernal, 
 
 Nothing from which to flee, 
 Into the port eternal 
 
 Safe will their entry be. 
 
 £0e ffitotn (Kent. 
 
 Deep down within the heart of mother earth 
 
 A jewel lay; 
 Man needed but to know its priceless worth. 
 
 Its brilliant ray, 
 To seek to give the unknown treasure birth. 
 
 Deep down within the heart of every man 
 
 A pearl is kept; 
 To gain it needs not guileful scheme or plan 
 
 Of shrewd adept. 
 Who wills to find this gem of beauty can. 
 
 The earthly treasure may be precious stone 
 
 Of value rare. 
 He who the jewel righteousness will own, 
 
 Beyond compare 
 Will find it — naught will for its loss atone. 
 
 £0e (BtuBe'0 <BKft 
 
 'Tis encouraging quite when an editor asks 
 
 For the work of your brain and your pen ; 
 But composing is usually one of the tasks 
 That is shirked by the most gifted men. 
 You will sharpen your pencil, your paper prepare, 
 You will toy with your rather luxuriant hair, 
 And the upshot will be, you will make people stare, 
 And accuse you of emptying flasks. 
 
 53 
 
Fragments 
 
 Oh, this blessing the Muse upon few will bestow, 
 
 And the fewer the better, 'twould seem. 
 If Tom, Dick and Harry could only but know 
 The effect of their verse, which they dream 
 Will wing its way onward, by all men admired — 
 I say could they know how they made others tired, 
 They'd have less occasion to read "not desired," 
 For sense from their verses would gleam. 
 
 Ruin and desolation, 
 
 Famine and glistening sword — 
 All the American nation 
 
 Stirred by one anarchist's word. 
 What! Is such futile endeavor, 
 
 Sure to involve death and crime, 
 Thus to continue forever, 
 
 Heedless of reason or time? 
 Children and wives' anxious pleading 
 
 Answered for naught when began 
 This fearful strike. Never heeding — 
 
 Ruthless and misguided man! 
 
 ;§but0core. 
 
 Few people see their eightieth year complete ; 
 
 This age is fast, and men are faster still. 
 Nor's age a tonic for the lagging feet 
 
 When years have sapped all energy and will. 
 
 To store a pint of gin is some men's aim, 
 And see the state drink always puts them in ! 
 
 Since not a rag of clothing they may claim, 
 They lose respect and sink in depths of sin. 
 
 The man of fourscore years may look with pride 
 Upon the checkered pathway he has trod 
 
 If he can say, whatever else betide, 
 
 "I've kept my manhood, and I trust in God." 
 
 54 
 
General 
 
 Circus ©dg. 
 
 The people gather on the street, 
 
 And interfere with cabs and cars. 
 The circus they are here to greet; 
 
 They wish to see the noted stars 
 Of chariot, ring, trapeze, and wires; 
 
 They want to see and hear the bands ; 
 While youth and age alike aspires 
 
 To see the beasts from many lands. 
 
 Here elephants and camels are, 
 
 With lions, zebras, polar bears, 
 Hyenas, monkeys from afar, 
 
 And tigers fresh from jungle lairs. 
 And here are scores of horses, too, 
 
 With gay cockades of blue and red, 
 Their tinseled trappings bright and new, 
 
 Their bodies sleek and highly fed. 
 
 The people shout, and well they may 
 
 (But once a year the circus comes), 
 The while the brazen trumpets bray, 
 
 Amid the rattle of the drums, 
 And there's the organ run by steam ; 
 
 Altho its notes discordant be, 
 The small boy's furnished with a theme 
 
 For many an hour's repartee. 
 
 The clowns are funny as of yore. 
 
 (Their essayed jokes are stale, you say? 
 What if we've heard their gags before? 
 
 We're not too critical today !) 
 The people crowd into the street, 
 
 And all are glad, and all are gay, 
 As on they go with eager feet 
 
 To the big tent — 'tis circus day ! 
 
 55 
 
Fragments 
 
 JfctfWiif QJnfo ©edffl. 
 
 It was down in Old Virginia, in the days of '64, 
 
 Where engaged in deadly conflict stood our freemen by the 
 score; 
 
 And the boys in gray were fighting as they never fought 
 before, 
 
 For their loved ones were in danger from the conquering 
 Yankee band, 
 
 And their homes were being pillaged by th' invader's pow- 
 erful hand, 
 
 While the lowering cloud of want and woe was spread 
 throughout the land. 
 
 One bright morning from a mansion rode a man, in flush 
 
 of youth ; 
 From his eyes there flashed defiance, on his countenance 
 
 sat truth ; 
 At his side there rode his servant; black as coal was he, 
 
 'tis true, 
 But his love for "Massa Charlie" was not hid by dusky 
 
 hue. 
 On they rode, and reached the army ; into battle fierce they 
 
 went; 
 But unless besides his master, faithful Tom was ne'eir 
 
 content. 
 
 Once upon the eve of conflict, "Tom, come here," his 
 
 master said ; 
 "You have been a faithful servant," (and the negro bowed 
 
 his head) 
 And I ask you now to promise, should I fall amid the fray, 
 You will take this ring to mother — do not loiter on the 
 
 way. 
 Tell her, Tom, I died contented, for my country and for 
 
 her. 
 Swear it, Tom." In trembling accents came the black's 
 
 reply, "I sw'ar." 
 
 56 
 
General 
 
 All day long the fray continued — far into the night they 
 
 fought, 
 Till at last the grays were forced to think their fighting 
 
 was for naught, 
 And they slowly drew their forces from the field with danger 
 
 fraught. 
 
 Early morning saw the negro (who amidst that bloody fray 
 Had been severed from his master) crouched upon his knees 
 
 to pray. 
 For a dream had brought a message to his superstitious 
 
 heart, 
 And he felt the time approaching when "Mas' Charles" and 
 
 he should part. 
 
 Long he prayed, until the sunrise lighted all the ghastly 
 
 plain, 
 Then he cast a look around him, where the earth was one 
 
 vast stain. 
 Little bloody rills were flowing far as eye could view the 
 
 scene, 
 And, like islands in the ocean, here and there a spot of green 
 Which had 'scaped the leaden hailstorm rose the gory 
 
 streams between. 
 
 Here the negro sought his master; here he found him 
 
 lying, dead, 
 While the blood was slowly oozing from his sorely wounded 
 
 head. 
 But, "the ring, the ring," he murmurs, and he lifts the hand 
 
 that bore 
 This last message to the mother, from a pool of mud and 
 
 gore. 
 Gone the ring — the finger shattered — this the sight that met 
 
 the gaze 
 Of the sorrow-stricken negro, filled with sorrow and amaze. 
 And his oath to "pore, dead Massa" — how could he now 
 
 keep his word, 
 
 57 
 
Fragments 
 
 And his failure tell the mother, as the crushing news she 
 
 heard ? 
 But a thought his mind enlightened — now his duty was as 
 
 clear 
 As the eyes of any maiden who has dried the last sad tear. 
 Take the ring back? No, he could not, but "the massa" 
 
 should return, 
 And upon the lifeless body would the news his mother learn. 
 
 None will know the tireless effort of the poor old faithful 
 
 slave 
 Till the judgment books are opened, and the dead come from 
 
 the grave. 
 Over field, and fell, and meadow, through the calms and 
 
 blinding storms, 
 Toiled the faithful negro, bearing his dead master in his 
 
 arms, 
 Till one summer day at sunset, to the home he once had 
 
 known, 
 Knowing not that far before him all the citizens had flown, 
 Came a slave in tattered raiment, with a burden foul to see, 
 Which he propped with careful hands against the body of 
 
 a tree. 
 And the morning found him keeping watch with him who 
 
 first had bled; 
 But the angels sang a welcome, for old, faithful Tom was 
 
 dead. 
 
 Soft as the twilight stealing 
 
 Over the fragrant earth, 
 Or as the thunder, pealing, 
 
 Heralds the fierce storm's birth- 
 Whether at eve or morning, 
 
 Midnight or sultry noon, 
 Tho it may be a warning, 
 
 Song is a priceless boon. 
 
 58 
 
General 
 
 (gttnericd'0 (§t$iftnin$B. 
 
 I. MARCO POLO IN CATHAY. 
 
 To cull from history of our world its true 
 
 And yet romantic scenes is our intent : 
 From earliest times, when first inquiry grew 
 
 In minds of men, on wide discovery bent. 
 
 When yet the masters of the learned world 
 Conceded that this globe was one broad plain, 
 
 Afraid to venture far, lest they be hurled 
 
 O'er edge of earth, to depths where demons reign, 
 
 A man arose to power and widespread fame 
 
 By his discovery of a kingdom grand 
 In farthest Asia, unto which he came 
 
 In quest of treasure and an unknown land. 
 
 Cathay 'twas called — its ruler, the Grand Khan ; 
 
 Its cities large, with architecture rare ; 
 Its products dazed the wondering eye of man 
 
 With richness of design beyond compare. 
 
 Returned to native land, Italia's shore, 
 
 Far spread his tale, but credence was denied ; 
 
 The many, tho content to share his store, 
 In mind disordered thought Cathay descried. 
 
 Today we know as China that Cathay 
 
 Which Marco Polo saw with wondering eye ; 
 
 And that brave spirit, seeking e'er to stray 
 
 To unknown climes, has fame which ne'er shall die. 
 
 II. ST. BRENDAN S ISLE. 
 
 As Christianity thruout the west 
 
 Of Europe became general and spread, 
 
 With missionary zeal and holy zest, 
 
 Rose good St. Brendan, in old Erin bred, 
 
 59 
 
Fragments 
 
 And others filled alike with Christian zeal, 
 Who out upon the broad Atlantic sailed. 
 
 For pagan nations' spiritual weal 
 
 Their hearts with ardor burned. And tho assailed 
 
 With storms and tempests, yet in course of time 
 One of their number shouted out with glee : 
 "There! there is land; perchance a pleasant clime 
 To cheer us on this madly raging sea." 
 
 Their bark they stranded on the blackened beach; 
 
 (A rock they thought it, 'twas so smooth and worn;) 
 A fire was kindled, and then each to each 
 
 Asserted they by heaven's winds were borne. 
 
 But suddenly a shock — their landing-place 
 Appeared to move, and then commenced to sink. 
 
 Alarm and dread depicted on each face, 
 Again they man their boat on sea of ink. 
 
 Instead of continent with good replete, 
 An ocean monster, so the legend reads, 
 
 Had been the harbor for their weary feet — 
 A mockery of their dire and pressing needs. 
 
 III. COLUMBUS. 
 
 At Genoa, of long historic fame, 
 
 There dwelt a weaver, honest and genteel, 
 
 Whose eldest son in after years became 
 
 A foremost factor in the new world's weal. 
 
 Columbus, what a thrill the name still sends 
 Thruout the frames of true Americans ! 
 
 Consideration of his story tends 
 
 To help the young in forming noble plans. 
 
 60 
 
General 
 
 Young Christopher an early aptness showed 
 For learning, and uncommon diligence, 
 
 And yearning for the sea ; his bosom glowed 
 With thoughts of voyage, ardent and intense. 
 
 An eldest son, the darling of his sire, 
 At his behest he sought to mold his life 
 
 To quiet scenes of commerce ; but the fire 
 Of ocean love within his breast was rife. 
 
 At last he left his quiet home, and sailed, 
 No more to share his parents' peaceful lot ; 
 
 Thenceforth strife was his portion, which entailed 
 Experiences ne'er to be forgot. 
 
 Thru many perils passed, at last he gained 
 The city Lisbon, where his brother dwelt, 
 
 And valued facts Columbus here obtained; 
 In after years the world his presence felt. 
 
 IV. SAN SALVADOR. 
 
 From patient study of achievements wrought 
 
 By navigators of the mighty deep, 
 Columbus the belief o'erpowering got, 
 
 By one bold stroke great honors he might reap. 
 
 First to his native city he applied, 
 
 And then in Venice ; deemed a fool, he failed. 
 In Portugal his project also died — 
 
 Before his plans these hardy seaman quailed. 
 
 To Ferdinand and Isabella then 
 
 The now discouraged mariner retreats, 
 
 At last to find brave, even daring men, 
 And victory, after many sore defeats. 
 
 61 
 
Fragments 
 
 With vessels three and men sixscore in all, 
 The third of August, fourteen-ninety-two, 
 
 He sailed from Palos, shadowed by the pall 
 Of ignorance that hid the world from view. 
 
 As farther from their native land they went, 
 Like mists before the sun their courage waned, 
 
 Until at last rose strife and discontent 
 
 Ere yet their object had been half attained. 
 
 The chief with skill the mutiny bridged o'er, 
 Until (October 12th) the sun's first rays 
 
 Discovered to their eyes San Salvador. 
 Complaint evanished in a psalm of praise. 
 
 Chestnutting ! Chestnutting ! Sport of the autumn time, 
 
 Gay occupation of young men and maids, 
 Robbing the trees of their fruit in its golden prime — 
 
 Tall chestnut trees in the forests and glades. 
 
 Chestnutting! Chestnutting! Sport of my youthful days; 
 
 Fond recollection restores to my sight 
 Scenes that evoke but the truest of ardent praise — 
 
 Brightest of memory's visions of night. 
 
 Chestnutting! Chestnutting! Could I live o'er again 
 Some of those child-pleasing days of the past, 
 
 Could I but sever those joys from the mists of pain, 
 How would I cherish them, holding them fast ! 
 
 Chestnutting ! Chestnutting ! Memory brings to me 
 Rich views of childish joys, laden with truth. 
 
 Sweet, loving memory, heart-soothing memory, 
 Takes me again to the days of my youth. 
 
 62 
 
General 
 
 When Mother Hubbard searched her store 
 
 For flesh or other food, 
 Her dog a pleasant visage wore — 
 
 He was in hopeful mood. 
 But when she found her cupboard bare, 
 
 Poor Towser, hungry grown, 
 Slunk off, dismayed, no one knows where, 
 
 With neither crust nor bone. 
 
 How like the dog mankind appears. 
 
 When hope fills head and heart, 
 We give no thought to useless fears — 
 
 Anticipate no smart; 
 But when adversity and want 
 
 Would of us make a prey, 
 How oft, like Towser — hungry, gaunt — 
 
 We turn and run away. 
 
 (Uncertainty. 
 
 Well, Christmas time has come and gone, 
 
 My turkey has been eaten, 
 And indigestion has, alas, 
 
 My stomach badly beaten. 
 But still I had a pleasant time, 
 
 Though by the doctors routed, 
 And I can say that through it all 
 
 I never even pouted. 
 
 And now I look around and see 
 Some tasks I soon must tackle 
 
 If I would hope to free myself 
 From many a galling shackle. 
 
 They have a most uncertain look, 
 But may they soon be plainer, 
 
 63 
 
Fragments 
 
 Nor make me need, like John L. S., 
 The aid of any trainer. 
 
 In '88 I wrote three poems 
 
 For holidays intended, 
 And, viewed with tyro eyes, they had 
 
 Good rhyme and reason blended. 
 They took their flight, with fondest hopes 
 
 And aspirations tended. 
 The Ed. gave one convulsive gasp — 
 
 His magazine "ascended." 
 
 Now, where have roamed those poems three, 
 
 Or what dire desolation 
 They wrought while on their heedless way, 
 
 I know not by relation. 
 But as I saw choice papers die 
 
 As children lacking nurses, 
 I often gave myself the blame — 
 
 Confound those Christmas verses ! 
 
 The months rolled on, as roll they will — 
 Old Time loves not to linger — 
 
 And hours and days escape our grasp 
 As sand from thumb and finger. 
 
 December, '94 — ah me, 
 
 That I have now to say it — 
 I owed a penalty to fate ; 
 
 Of course, I had to pay it. 
 Well printed on a page of white, 
 
 With not a blur nor error, 
 My doom appeared, on which I looked 
 
 With trembling fits of terror. 
 For there, with name and address, too, 
 
 (For months I'd vainly sought 'em,) 
 The worst of those three poems I wrote 
 
 Six years ago last Autumn ! 
 
 64 
 
General 
 
 Vile prodigal, no fatted calf 
 Awaited your returning; 
 
 But expectation had prepared 
 A stake and royal burning. 
 
 Outwitted, duped, alas, 'tis true; 
 
 And not yet is the ending 
 Of all the woes the Muse is now 
 
 Upon her servant sending. 
 Of all sad fates that come to men 
 
 I may this cruel one dread : 
 What I now write may not be used 
 
 Till Christmas, ninete en-hundred! 
 
 $0<XXiKBtin$. 
 
 The time is fast approaching 
 
 When those pests of some — the boys, 
 
 We'll often find encroaching 
 On our quiet with their noise. 
 
 They'll find our trees, ne'er failing, 
 As they chuckle to themselves, 
 
 To seek to scale the paling, 
 
 Scenting sweets, the roguish elves. 
 
 No use to storm and splutter 
 As they steal the luscious fruit ; 
 
 If stern rebukes you utter, 
 
 They will simply "follow suit." 
 
 When one you catch, however, 
 Seize his collar, throw him out; 
 
 You must be quick and clever 
 If you put the boys to rout. 
 
 65 
 
Fragments 
 
 W0en ffle Circus Cornea to £ot*m. 
 
 What is all this fuss about? 
 
 Why the racket and the noise, 
 As with laughter and with shout 
 
 Pass along the girls and boys ? 
 Games and toys are put aside 
 
 With no trace of scowl or frown. 
 Newer, sweeter joys abide 
 
 When the circus comes to town. 
 
 Youth and age alike are out — 
 
 Here's a pleasure never cloys; 
 'Tis no more a time for doubt, 
 
 'Tis the hour of real joys. 
 Now along the streets appears 
 
 The parade, with band and clown ; 
 And we feel no need for tears 
 
 When the circus comes to town. 
 
 So it is our lives thruout. 
 
 When the tinseled set deploys 
 We will banish with a shout 
 
 Each condition that annoys. 
 And perhaps 'tis better so, 
 
 For we put our troubles down 
 And make friends of every foe 
 
 When the circus comes to town. 
 
 (W#. 
 
 Silent is nature, the birds are all sleeping ; 
 
 Gone with his chariot of fire is the sun. 
 Only anon is the cricket heard cheeping — 
 
 Mankind is resting, the day's labors done. 
 Listen, oh, listen ! o'er hilltop and mountain, 
 
 Down thro the valley comes faint melody — 
 Song of the night wind ; while 'neath yonder fountain 
 
 Whippoorwill warbles his sweet elegy. 
 
 66 
 
General 
 
 Beautiful flower, with fragrance replete, 
 Scenting the air with thy perfume so sweet, 
 Many the worshipers found at thy shrine, 
 Found where thy blossoms in crystal recline. 
 I, too, with ardor thy resting-place greet. 
 
 Thousands will gather with hastening feet, 
 Queen of the water, with homage most meet ; 
 Beauty and wealth will thy clusters entwine, 
 Beautiful flower. 
 
 Come from the city, its bustle and heat — 
 Come where the water queen raises her seat, 
 
 Cover with garlands not rosetree or vine; 
 
 Banish all others if only thou'rt mine, 
 Filling with fragrance my sylvan retreat, 
 Beautiful flower. 
 
 fetfe'0 (&im. 
 
 Press onward ! Life is not a shadowy dream, 
 Peopled with ghostly figures moved by chance ; 
 
 But tho ofttimes its mazes such may seem, 
 Be not deceived — we live not in a trance. 
 
 We were not born to lives of useless ease, 
 Ourselves to serve, our souls alone to save, 
 
 But every opportunity to seize 
 
 For helping others ere we reach the grave. 
 
 When duty calls us may our hearts grow warm ; 
 
 May we in faith life's trials bravely meet. 
 So, mid the sunshine or the fearful storm, 
 
 Our mission shall at last be deemed complete. 
 
 67 
 
Fragments 
 
 Cremation's now the rage 
 
 With fashionable folks ; 
 While life and death fierce battles wage. 
 
 These treat them all as jokes. 
 
 Come death whene'er he may, 
 
 I'll follow their design, 
 Nor leave my bones to slow decay 
 
 In any churchyard shrine. 
 
 Zo <xn 3n<tcfit>e (pod. 
 
 O bard of old, thy lute, once tuned to gladness, 
 
 Is mute and still ; 
 Thy former place is now a bower of sadness 
 
 Which none can fill. 
 
 Yet, bard of old, the hand which once with pleasure 
 
 Swept living strings, 
 Retains that cunning in the fullest measure. 
 
 Whence power springs. 
 
 Return, O bard of old, thy mission meeting; 
 
 Thy message sweet 
 Shall once again in human lives, tho fleeting, 
 
 Find blest retreat. 
 
 QRefroBpect 
 
 Back to the days of the "coach and four" 
 
 Memory goes tonight ; 
 Precious they are as I con them o'er 
 
 After the years' swift flight. 
 
 Glimpses of childhood are foremost now — 
 
 Leaving the old fireside, 
 When a seat in the one-horse sleigh, somehow 
 
 Gave one the fleetest ride. 
 
 68 
 
General 
 
 Railroads were few, and were not, at best, 
 
 What they have since become. 
 Yet we were happy, and joy's a zest 
 
 Wholly unknown to some. 
 
 Stoves we had none — even grates were few ; 
 
 Fireplaces answered then. 
 Tea was a luxury — costly, too — 
 
 Scorned by all manly men. 
 
 Strange tho they seem as I think them o'er, 
 
 As the years fly amain, 
 Back to those slow, simple days of yore 
 
 Would I were back again. 
 
 ZU Stuffg j^utnan. 
 
 The poet who can pen a rime 
 
 Which merits second reading, 
 Whose wit and wisdom are sublime, 
 Without a trace of acrid slime 
 (Oft gained from overfeeding), 
 
 Whose humor lacks that fleeting hue 
 
 Which rules in life's Sahara, 
 Is scarcely ever brought to view — 
 As well expect the honey dew 
 In bitter springs of Marah. 
 
 More often he who gains a name 
 
 Sinks to the common level 
 Of narrowness in wrong and shame — 
 None other than himself to blame — 
 No better than the devil. 
 
 The humblest acts I'd rather do, 
 And strive for true soul-beauty, 
 
 Than gain a kingship (some folks do, 
 
 To use a figurative view), 
 Yet lose all sense of duty. 
 
Fragments 
 
 Somebody's mother is sitting alone, 
 Waiting for somebody out on the sea ; 
 
 Teardrops will fall as she stifles the moan : 
 ''When will my laddie be coming to me?" 
 
 Somebody out on the billowy deep, 
 
 Eagerly straining his eyes toward the land, 
 
 Knows that a mother will pray and will weep 
 Till she can fondle her sailor boy's hand. 
 
 Somebody scans the horizon in vain. 
 
 Storm clouds are gathering out in the west ; 
 Thunders are muttering; presently rain 
 
 Patters, then pours upon old ocean's breast. 
 
 Loud shrieks the wind as he hastes from his lair; 
 
 Night comes apace, and the waters are wild. 
 Somebody's laddie is doing his share, 
 
 Trusting in God, like an innocent child. 
 
 Fiercer, more terrible still howls the blast; 
 
 Swifter than eagles, on, on to its fate 
 Plunges the vessel — the die has been cast — 
 
 Help may arrive, but alas ! all too late. 
 
 Morning is dawning ; the sun in the east 
 Comes, as a bridegroom, rejoicing to call 
 
 Friends and acquaintances to the great feast 
 Marking his making some maiden his all; 
 
 Smiling and plating the ocean with gold, 
 Smiling and strengthening men on the shore, 
 
 Smiling it enters and banishes cold 
 
 From the cot where somebody comes no more. 
 
 Somebody's mother, somehow, seems to see 
 Her boy in the sunlight, beckoning on ; 
 
 And crying, "Laddie, I'm coming to thee !" 
 Mother, too, smiles, and her spirit has gone. 
 
 70 
 
General 
 
 There are many pleasant memories that come to me tonight ; 
 Scenes of childhood, boyhood, manhood, and the joys 
 each had in store; 
 And the present fades from view as all the past looms into 
 sight, 
 With its wealth of cherished visions of the happy days 
 of yore. 
 Yet there's one of all the coterie that forges to the fore, 
 And within its earnest, forceful grasp my very being 
 thrills ; 
 'Tis the brightest of the bright in life — 'tis bliss to 
 ponder o'er 
 Those days I wandered yonder on the Pennsylvania hills. 
 
 I've learned to care for other spots within this land of 
 right, 
 By broad, deep Mississippi, or by bleak Atlantic's shore, 
 Where joys brought bliss and gladness, or where sorrow left 
 its blight, 
 And oft the fruits of living seemed devoured to the 
 core, 
 But yet the spot preeminent grows dearer, more and more ; 
 
 Tho I am exiled from it, still the murmur of the rills, 
 The wind amid the treetops, and the rushing torrent's roar, 
 Are wafted to my study from the Pennsylvania hills. 
 
 Oh, dear days gone forever — must I say, forever, quite? — 
 
 The music of the past rings sweet, as thru the open 
 door 
 The tinkle of the cowbells, with their echo faint and light, 
 
 The west wind on its pinions to my senses often bore. 
 And tho I gained of India's riches many and many a crore, 
 
 Life still would seem afflicted with a multitude of ills, 
 If never to my burdened heart imaginative lore 
 
 Brought back those blissful memories of the Pennsylvania 
 hills. 
 
 71 
 
Fragments 
 
 (Experience. 
 
 (a parody.) 
 
 There's an eye that watches me when I'm tight- 
 
 A crafty policeman's eye; 
 And his form assumes a prodigious hight, 
 And his right arm gathers tremendous might 
 
 As I seek to pass him by. 
 
 My dream of a hole bored down to hell 
 
 Is real at his command, 
 As one of his ilk stands sentinel, 
 While I am entombed in a gloomy cell, 
 
 Because I've so little "sand." 
 
 That last big schooner of foaming beer 
 
 In memory still I see; 
 And a hand that, beckoning, drew me near. 
 (While my money lasted I had good cheer, 
 
 But the devil laughed with glee.) 
 
 I know the place where a drunkard lies, 
 
 A legion of drunks, forsooth : 
 A quiet grave for the man who dies, 
 But the rum-fiend's victim falls but to rise 
 
 To a prison pen, in truth. 
 
 I have conjured ghosts of the land and sea 
 
 From a glass of sparkling wine; 
 I have heard the demons in ghoulish glee 
 Discuss the mortgage they have on me — 
 Have they one on that soul of thine ? 
 
 I drank a gallon of rum one day — 
 
 The thirst in my breast was deep; 
 And I sent it straight to the spot where lay 
 The gnawing worm which has paved the way 
 For many a maudlin sleep. 
 
 72 
 
General 
 
 Winter. 
 
 A drift of cloud against the sky's expanse, 
 
 A bank of fleecy fragments leading far 
 Away horizonward, the sure advance 
 
 Of heaven's elements, prepared for war. 
 The silent, steady pour of missiles, white 
 
 And harmless as the little child at play, 
 Holds safe in check grim powers of fearful might, 
 
 Which, unrestrained, engage in vengeful fray. 
 
 A winter scene — how full of beauty rare ! 
 
 No loud alarms of summer's thunder-showers; 
 The lightning-shafts are checked, and pure and fair 
 
 Descends the snowy mantle thru long hours. 
 The summer may be bright, but why decry 
 
 The spotless beauty of the winter-king? 
 Then hail to winter ! May he linger by, 
 
 And may his visits joy to all men bring. 
 
 ZU (pdftBdbeB, 
 
 The Palisades in lofty grandeur rear 
 
 Their cold, gray summits up toward the sky, 
 
 While at their feet the merry boatmen steer 
 
 Their boats upon the Hudson, flowing calmly by. 
 
 The Palisades in matchless beauty stand, 
 
 A living monument to craft above — 
 Grander than workmanship of human hand — 
 
 A pledge of lavish nature from the God of love. 
 
 The Palisades, the Hudson — potent charms — 
 
 Appeal to every nature-loving one. 
 All men alike, forgetting night's alarms, 
 
 Enjoy the beauteous scene when upward mounts the sun. 
 
 73 
 
Fragments 
 
 &vlx jE)ome 3* (p&rcfoxBt. 
 
 Our little band complete 
 
 Is bright and recherche, 
 While never one you meet 
 
 Refuses to be gay. 
 
 Here happiness holds sway, 
 With many features nice ; 
 
 So, one and all, we say, 
 Our home is paradise. 
 
 Mid leafy trees we meet, 
 
 And here, too, any may 
 Feel sure of welcome treat 
 
 Whenever here they stray. 
 
 Auspicious be the day 
 When you secure the price 
 
 To bring you out this way ; 
 Our home is paradise. 
 
 We've tempting things to eat, 
 
 And nothing mars the tray 
 Where buttermilk, or sweet, 
 
 Is served, with naught to pay. 
 
 No wight of common clay 
 Comes here, but in a trice 
 
 He's quite content to stay — 
 Our home is paradise. 
 
 L'Envoi. 
 
 Prince, hear me now, I pray. 
 
 In spite of men or mice 
 I'll vow — and end my lay — 
 
 Our home is paradise ! 
 
 74 
 
General 
 
 feife'0 ©dg. 
 
 At break of day, to greet the sun's first beams, 
 
 The birds and flowers shake off the chains of sleep, 
 And as the earliest rays in silence creep 
 
 In at the casement, and their radiance streams 
 
 Thru night's dense blackness, driving like foul dreams 
 The shadows of the dark down morning's steep, 
 Mankind awakes from rest and slumber deep, 
 
 And joins the song with which all nature teems, 
 
 And earth is glad. Yet, while it still is day, 
 
 Come sickness, sorrow, death, in grim array, 
 And dusk returns e'en at the noontide hour ; 
 
 For wide extremes life on our path may lay, 
 And man, tho lord of nature, feels their power, 
 Nor, ere the drouth, has strength to pluck the flower. 
 
 ^untise on f#e §t<x. 
 
 The gray dawn stirs itself — a restless move 
 As any little child may make in sleep, 
 
 When the soft hand of fond maternal love 
 Upon her darling's head may gently creep. 
 
 The gray dawn moves, and one by one the stars, 
 God's watchmen of the night, prepare to place 
 
 The curtains tightly o'er their v/indow bars, 
 
 That naught may dim the sun's approaching grace. 
 
 A strip of ebon the horizon bands; 
 
 A golden ribbon stretches just above, 
 As if the hard, dark pathway to all lands 
 
 Were canopied with never-failing love. 
 
 The east acquires a deep and rosy red, 
 As red as blushes on a maiden's cheek 
 
 When, risen early from her restful bed, 
 
 She starts with joy to hear her lover speak. 
 
 75 
 
Fragments 
 
 And now 'twixt rose and black the blue appears, 
 With here and there a golden gleam, as when 
 
 The courier of an eastern monarch nears 
 
 To claim obeisance from all castes of men. 
 
 Now has the black to royal purple turned, 
 As well befits the trappings of a king; 
 
 Now has his splendor thru the shadows burned — 
 Mankind in unison his praises sing. 
 
 The purple breaks, the gold in deeper hue 
 Floods all with light; a pathway now is seen, 
 
 Uniting sea and sky; a splendor new 
 Lights up old ocean, lying all serene. 
 
 And as our Lord on Galilee's pure wave 
 
 Walked harmless, as tho treading solid ground, 
 
 So Sol, His creature, from his watery grave 
 Uprises, to begin his daily round. 
 
 A ball of fire, his pathway bathed in light, 
 
 He comes across the deep; and shadows drear 
 
 As noisome spirits fade and slink from sight, 
 All hail ! all hail ! the king of day is here. 
 
 (& §&on$ of t0e QSag. 
 
 A furled sail and a quiet bark, 
 With the anchor dropt and the vessel dark- 
 Sing ho ! the bay at Charleston. 
 
 The crew ashore and the voyage done 
 And the well-earned rest but just begun — 
 Sing ho ! the bay at Charleston. 
 
 The moon rides high and the wind is low, 
 And the white-winged sailboats onward go- 
 Sing ho ! the bay at Charleston. 
 
 76 
 
General 
 
 While the maidens fair, the city's pride, 
 Stand watching the vessels onward glide — 
 Sing ho ! the bay at Charleston. 
 
 But pleasures fade while the heart grows sad; 
 The nest must fall from the place it had — 
 Sing ho ! the bay at Charleston. 
 
 Lights disappear, and the city sleeps, 
 While the fate-wrecked maiden wakes and weeps- 
 Sing ho ! the bay at Charleston. 
 
 3n (Jtkmorictm. 
 
 Joyous were we ere the sad tidings came, 
 Over the distances stretching between, 
 Saying our friend of such wide-spreading fame, 
 Even our mentor, of intellect keen, 
 Purest and best, without shadow of blame, 
 Had the solution of all mysteries seen. 
 
 Bowing in sorrow, we bathe with our tears 
 
 AH the loved relics. Let memory tell 
 
 Doings of kindness each mystic reveres, 
 
 Gracing his dealings with others who dwell 
 
 Ever in Thedom. Then, sage of the years, 
 
 Rest, loved and honored. Dear comrade, farewell ! 
 
 tftt QResuff of a (pebt^ree. 
 
 Ancestral pride makes people bigoted fools 
 
 Who slander their neighbors whenever they can. 
 
 The other's dear children "are late at the schools, 
 And worse than all others," says each surly man. 
 
 77 
 
Fragments 
 
 Their grounds can't be matched, in each other's esteem, 
 For garbage and rubbish piled high as the fence. 
 
 Tirades on another to such always seem 
 
 Symbolic of thought and of learning immense. 
 
 'Twere well if some stream near their dwellings could flow, 
 
 A law being made that all bigoted men 
 Be drenched in its waters whenever they show 
 
 The least inclination to quarrel again. 
 
 78 
 
A LAUGH OR TWO. 
 
 <Wen (Kroner (gtmtz Ut 
 
 They're hevin' quite an argyment in Washington these days, 
 An' clear across the kentry hez extended this 'ere craze. 
 Yet when their talkin's over, the hull discussion will 
 Resolve itself inter this fraze— "When Grover reseats Lil." 
 
 We've heerd our parson tell us how the Lord, in days ov old, 
 Sot Solomon on to a throne ov eighteen-karet gold. 
 But thet can't hold a candle ter the diplomatic skill 
 Which will, we reckon, show itself "When Grover reseats 
 Lil." 
 
 They tell us how he sent hiz man, Commishuner J. Blount 
 (The same as all the papers sence hez nicknamed "Pary- 
 
 mount"), 
 Away ter Honolulu with a note from Gresham's quill 
 Which said ter them 'ere heathen, Grover'd try ter reseat Lil. 
 He sent another messenger, an' Willis wuz his name, 
 Ter try an' reassure the English envoy's dusky dame ; 
 With him he also sent the word — it was a bitter pill 
 Ter Dole an' all hiz cabinet — that Grover'd reseat Lil. 
 
 Now, while they're talkin' polyticks about this heathen 
 
 wench, 
 The poor Amer'can workin' men are sittin' on the bench, 
 A hopin' Congress will hev time ter kill the Wilson bill 
 An' bring them wunce again good times — "When Grover 
 
 reseats Lil." 
 
 Then let us keep a prayin' even if old Grover's rash, 
 Thet somehow we kin strike a job thet pays a little cash. 
 An' tho it's slow a-comin', we know it surely will 
 Be due in this vicinity "When Grover reseats Lil." 
 
 79 
 
Fragments 
 
 feed? Tgedr. 
 
 List now, lads and lassies true, 
 
 List, and I will tell to you 
 
 How in early days began 
 
 First to be observed by man 
 
 That great nuisance termed Leap Year, 
 
 To some maidens' hearts so dear. 
 
 'Twas by Patrick, patron saint 
 Of old Erin, that the quaint 
 Custom gained its early start. 
 Patrick had a tender heart, 
 And St. Bridget, knowing this, 
 Gained her wish by artifice. 
 
 On Lough Neagh's delightful strand 
 Bridget, head of convent band, 
 Sat one morning bathed in tears, 
 When St. Patrick there appears, 
 And with kindness and caress 
 Asks the cause of her distress. 
 
 Straight she tells her cause for grief, 
 And from Patrick seeks relief. 
 For the ladies of her band 
 Had announced, in accents bland, 
 They with man should equal be; 
 They'd propose, as well as he. 
 
 Patrick conned the matter o'er, 
 (Gallant was he, to the core,) 
 And proposed, to make things even, 
 That within one year in seven 
 Ladies should their rights avail 
 By proposing to a male. 
 
 80 
 
A Laugh or Two 
 
 "Arrah, Patrick !" she upbraids, 
 "Sure, I could not to my maids 
 Go with such a poor behest. 
 Surely now you only jest." 
 Arms around his neck she threw, 
 And to him she closer drew. 
 
 Straight the gallant Pat replied, 
 "Sure, to help you be the bride 
 Of some man whom you adore, 
 Let us say one year in four. 
 I will give your wards, I wot, 
 Leap year, longest of the lot." 
 
 Straightway, having gained her quest, 
 
 Bridget put it to the test — 
 
 Popped the question then and there. 
 
 Backward Patrick turned, his hair 
 
 Up on end, as though in fear; 
 
 But escape was not so near. 
 
 Bridget, with an air distressed, 
 Gaining not this last request, 
 Murmured that the saint should make 
 Laws which he the first should break. 
 Pat replied, with ne'er a frown, 
 "You shall have a new silk gown." 
 
 In these days, dear boys, beware 
 Of the Leap Year maiden, fair. 
 Let her not approach too near, 
 Lest proposals you may hear. 
 If declined, with smile or frown, 
 You must give a silken gown. 
 
 81 
 
Fragments 
 
 Zfc ficfcfe fte. 
 
 A bright summer morning saw Robert and Kate 
 Speak tearful farewells at the old garden gate; 
 For Robert was leaving for far distant lands, 
 To build up a fortune with strong, willing hands. 
 
 And Kate was heartbroken — at least, so she said ; 
 Her grief was redundant — she wished she were dead. 
 Yet scarcely a fortnight had glided away 
 When lo ! again Kate became merry and gay. 
 
 The change had been wrought in an evening — just one 
 
 (It pains me to say it, but truth will prevail). 
 A tall soldier lad with a helmet and gun 
 Had turned into singing her sorrowing wail. 
 And Robert's true kisses 
 She now never misses; 
 Her new lover knows not the meaning of fail. 
 
 Days, pass into months and the months into years, 
 
 And suddenly, one summer morning, 
 Comes back to the sweetheart he left bathed in tears 
 The lover. He came without warning, 
 And Kate, be it known, 
 
 Is Miss Katie no more; 
 The maiden has grown 
 To be Mistress Telore. 
 Her heart's citadel had been stormed since the morn 
 
 She parted with Robert beside the old gate. 
 Some other his jewels and silks will adorn, 
 
 For faithless and false has been pretty Miss Kate. 
 
 Young man, some advice ere I finish my song : 
 
 'Twill save you, I'm certain, much sorrow and wrong. 
 
 If you have a sweetheart 
 
 Do not ask her to part, 
 But, when seeking your fortune, just take her along. 
 
 82 
 
A Laugh or Two 
 
 GX)t $<XBB\n$ of Coneg. 
 
 The principal section of Coney Island was destroyed by fire, May 26, 1899. 
 
 Where can I my shekels squander? 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 To what spot shall I now wander? 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 Vainly shines the sun above me, 
 Vainly maidens vow they love me; 
 Life is simply torn out of me, 
 
 Coney's gone. 
 
 When I mount my wheel at even, 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 Friends forsake, betray, deceive, an' 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 Dear old Bowery, I shall mourn you ; 
 Often did my form adorn you, 
 But today I can but scorn you — 
 
 Coney's gone. 
 
 Sad my lot, for soon or sooner 
 
 (Coney's gone) 
 I shall miss my wonted schooner — 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 "Concert" halls, by some berated, 
 Naught could be more strongly hated, 
 To oblivion you are fated ; 
 
 Coney's gone. 
 
 Shall I e'er survive the trial? 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 Echo sadly makes denial — 
 
 Coney's gone; 
 So, old friend, than you none truer 
 (To the faker, and the brewer), 
 Skies are blue, but I am bluer — 
 
 Coney's gone. 
 
 83 
 
Fragments 
 
 'Tis midnight; silence wields untrammeled sway. 
 
 The silvery moon is hid beneath a cloud. 
 The toil and turmoil of the busy day 
 
 Lie clad in darkness and a sable shroud. 
 The watchman nods in yonder passageway, 
 
 And counts the stars, to keep himself awake. 
 And all is peaceful ; both the sad and gay, 
 
 Their grief and joys forgot, like slumber take. 
 
 Now suddenly upon the tranquil air 
 
 Breaks forth a long, unearthly, dismal wail. 
 'Tis not of earth — a grim demonic pair 
 
 Hold friendly converse, 'neath sardonic pale. 
 The warder starts, his guard again begun; 
 
 He lists intently where the ghastly strains 
 Rise loud and shrill, like mortal cries of one 
 
 Condemned to lasting woe on Stygian plains. 
 
 Nearer and nearer come the unhallowed sounds; 
 
 The watchman pauses, trembling with alarm, 
 His nerves unstrung, while 'gainst his bosom bounds 
 
 His heart, all fearful of approaching harm. 
 And now again is silence, as the grave : 
 
 The sounds that stoutest hearts might well appall 
 Are hushed. You ask, what scared the watchman brave? 
 
 A pair of felines on the garden wall! 
 
 You may talk of the tariff on sugar or tin, 
 Or abuse proposed free silver coining; 
 
 You may say to the country no wool shall come in- 
 Free entrance would equal purloining; 
 
 You may even convince us that man has no soul. 
 Or that Darwin's mistaken in treating 
 
 His favorite theme; yet, tho minds you control, 
 You can never prohibit our eating. 
 
 84 
 
A Laugh or Two 
 
 Once I wooed a pretty girl — 
 Dimpled cheeks and teeth of pearl ; 
 Soon my brain was in a whirl 
 Over her. 
 
 I papa's acquaintance made, 
 That I might not be afraid 
 When I came to court the maid ; 
 But he swore 
 
 That I would disgraceful prove 
 To the family of my love ; 
 Then "persuaded" me to move 
 Instantly. 
 
 As some imp of darkness cast 
 From the heavens, so I passed, 
 And my banishment will last, 
 Sayeth he. 
 
 ©tBCtetton. 
 
 A student of medicine took a vacation, 
 And went to the Rockies for game; 
 
 Intending, he said, to surprise all creation, 
 And thus to acquire a great name. 
 
 One morning he left for a wild, lonely region 
 To slay the big bear with his gun; 
 
 But as he had naught to maintain a long siege on 
 He soon had to make a home run. 
 
 'Twas not very safe for a would-be physician," 
 He said, when they asked why he left, 
 
 'To risk being placed in the awkward position 
 Of being of life-blood bereft." 
 
 85 
 
Fragments 
 
 3n tfc (Jfrfice $<xtxo£ 
 
 Oh, what a ride ! 
 
 Enchanting ? 
 
 Supplanting 
 All else beside — 
 What a ride! 
 
 A cop. by my side, 
 Diligent, 
 Duty-bent, 
 Agreeable guide 
 For a ride ! 
 
 Pray don't deride; 
 You may some 
 Day become 
 
 Seated inside. 
 
 What a ride! 
 
 ?6 
 
INSCRIPTIONS TO FRIENDS. 
 
 3n @tufogtdp0 (&f8unt0. 
 
 (to e. J.) 
 "When we meet again" — 'tis a phrase that's full of 
 
 meaning — 
 Simple little words, yet a host of memories screening. 
 "When we meet again" ! — in this world it may be never, 
 But we know that there, where the ransomed ne'er shall 
 
 sever, 
 We will meet again, with the Lamb to dwell forever. 
 
 O may our circle ne'er be broken 
 
 By Satan's wily hand; 
 And tho the sad farewells be spoken, 
 
 May we, a ransomed band, 
 Around the throne, our ranks unbroken, 
 
 With Christ for ever stand. 
 
 (to e. h.) 
 
 The sun is setting, 
 And its golden rays intense 
 Throw a cloak of radiance 
 
 On all around. 
 May your life be like the sun, 
 And whene'er your journey's run 
 
 May joy profound 
 Fill the heart of every friend, 
 And with hope and friendship blend, 
 
 New faith begetting. 
 So may thine example prove, 
 All thine actions fraught with love, 
 
 A heavenly gem in purest setting. 
 
 87 
 
Fragments 
 
 (to f. g. a.) 
 These youthful days, may every simple pleasure 
 Make you to parents dear a priceless treasure ; 
 And as with riper years youth's fancies perish, 
 May you find some true heart to love and cherish. 
 
 (to a. h.) 
 In after life as o'er these pages white, 
 
 Then yellowed by the aging hand of time, 
 You look, and pause awhile as comes to sight 
 
 Friend after friend, in sentiment or rime, 
 Giving to one a thought, to one a sigh, 
 
 And for another shed regretful tears — 
 Invoke sweet memory, when this you spy, 
 
 And glimpse a faithful friend of other years. 
 
 Wif0 (Jtew feat's (Biff* 
 
 (to a. c.) 
 The holly and the mistletoe 
 
 Have played full well their part, 
 And now the old year has to go — 
 
 Even old friends must part. 
 May the new year in God's own way 
 
 Shower blessings on your head; 
 And when you read this simple lay, 
 
 Just think of Uncle Ed. 
 
 (to m. h.) 
 A year of joy, a year of fun, 
 
 A year of pleasures true, 
 A life of usefulness begun, 
 
 Dear friend, I wish for you. 
 The year just closed was good, no doubt, 
 
 But thru the open door 
 Of Time's abode there cometh out 
 
 The best year, nineteen-four. 
 
 88 
 
 L.CT w. 
 
Inscriptions to Friends 
 
 (to l. p.) 
 Lovers of Merry England we — 
 
 I greet you, friend, today. 
 Our fatherland will ever stand 
 
 As more than common clay. 
 May the New Year's prosperity 
 
 To you, dear friend, be sent, 
 And smiles and tears thruout the years 
 
 In God's own way be blent. 
 
 (to f. g. a.) 
 May joy be yours this New Year day; 
 
 May friends be never few, 
 And may prosperity alway 
 
 Her smiles bestow on you. 
 And as you count your blessings o'er, 
 
 A list with scarce an end; 
 May you remember once — or more — 
 
 Him who is still your friend. 
 
 (to h. m. b. c.) 
 All thru the year may happiness 
 
 And love attend your way. 
 May care and pain grow less and less, 
 
 And sorrow flee away. 
 As God his daily blessings sends, 
 
 And fills your life with mirth, 
 May you remember with your friends 
 
 Edward E. Hollingworth. 
 
Fragments 
 
 Of &ge. 
 
 (to l. l. m.) 
 
 Dear little friend, I greet you now 
 
 Full eighteen years of age. 
 Henceforth I must defer, I trow, 
 
 Unto your wisdom sage. 
 And yet the day is one that brings 
 
 Responsibility, 
 As o'er your shoulders Old Time flings 
 
 The cloak "majority." 
 
 They say you are "of age," dear friend, 
 
 And I will not deny it ; 
 Yet still to me you must unbend ; 
 
 If fashion frowns, defy it ! 
 To me you never will grow old, 
 
 Or too demure for jesting; 
 Nor can you e'er become a scold, 
 
 Or grow uninteresting. 
 
 May these your happiest hours prove, 
 
 With less of carking care, 
 And more of friendship, more of love, 
 
 And many pleasures rare. 
 May this a golden cycle be, 
 
 And may your life be true, 
 As usefulness and harmony 
 
 Shall be vouchsafed to you. 
 
 Thus I congratulate you, friend, 
 
 On your new dignity, 
 And pray that God to you will send 
 
 His gifts right royally. 
 So may you prove to every one 
 
 A helper and a friend, 
 And merit, when life's sands are run, 
 
 Joys that shall never end. 
 
 90 
 
Inscriptions to Friends 
 
 &i$tun Treats ©fb. 
 
 (to m. h.) 
 
 Eighteen sweet, joyous, happy years, 
 
 Dear friend, have been your lot; 
 Sunshine has crowded out the tears, 
 
 Sorrow has found you not. 
 God in His love has spared your life 
 
 And shaped your pathway straight, 
 Unharmed by aught of worldly strife, 
 
 Toward heaven's pearly gate. 
 
 Eighteen short, happy years are told — 
 
 The future, who can tell ? 
 The furnace purifies the gold, 
 
 The fire tests the bell. 
 God in His wisdom may decree 
 
 His furnace fires for you ; 
 But even then I know you'll be 
 
 To God and duty true. 
 
 Eighteen sweet, happy years are past. 
 
 Dear friend, thru eighteen more — 
 Yea, thrice eighteen, for time flies fast — 
 
 May heaven its riches pour 
 Upon your head ; and may you know 
 
 Not chill affliction's blight, 
 Until the Savior bids you go 
 
 Where there shall be no night. 
 
 The music dies, the song is stilled; 
 
 The joyous natal day, 
 With such pure pleasures overfilled, 
 
 Fades silently away. 
 The angels draw heaven's window bars 
 
 From pearly portals bright, 
 And in the silvery light of stars 
 
 I bid you, friend, good-night! 
 
 91 
 
Fragments 
 
 <Wi$ (S<xkntiUB. 
 
 (to l. l. m.) 
 
 Best of the products of the South, 
 
 Fairest of girls in Dixie land ; 
 Like cooling shower in a drouth, 
 
 Or oasis in desert sand, 
 Like fragrant rose or violet sweet, 
 
 Like anything that's bright and fair, 
 You are, dear friend; yes, I repeat, 
 
 In all things you're beyond compare ! 
 
 (to l. p.) 
 
 The days roll on, the seasons come and go; 
 
 Saint Valentine arrives mid ice and snow. 
 
 Let him take care, however, lest Love's blaze 
 
 Melt snows beneath his tread, and make him go 
 
 Consumed by pure affection's bright'ning rays. 
 
 May this all-joyous season's gifts attend 
 
 You now, and thru the coming days, dear friend. 
 
 (to m. h.) 
 
 Saint Valentine has called again 
 
 And stirred love's pulse anew ; 
 Nor maid nor swain can now refrain 
 
 From bringing love's own gifts to view. 
 With gladsome thoughts of happy days, 
 
 And joys that shall pursue 
 Through life's affrays your winning ways, 
 
 I make this offering, friend, to you. 
 Mere written words are given restraint, 
 
 Yet unto each his due : 
 The good old saint has manners quaint — 
 
 Your glorious eyes have lovelight true. 
 
 92 
 
■C 12 
 

m 
 
 ; 
 
 II