PS 3525 
 .P162 
 E4 
 1895 
 Copy 1 
 
 S*#i3 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ©lap. ©xqu|ng|t !f a... 
 
 Shelf LikL^^c^ ^ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
ECHOES FROM THE HEftRT. 
 
 SONGS PIPED DURING THE FIRST 
 YEAR OF MANHOOD 
 
 BY 
 
 ANDREW M. McCONNELL, 
 
 BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA.. 
 1895. 
 
 ALABAMA EDITION. 
 Copyrighted 1805, by A. M. McCONNELL. "Vj^ Vi^ASH^ 
 
 ATLANTA, GA. I 
 
 THE FOOTE & DAVIES CO., PRINTERS AND BINDERS. 
 
 1895. 
 
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 87 
 
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With faithful 
 
 affection and esteem 
 
 to loved acquaintances and 
 
 literary friends, and to every person who 
 
 possesses a warm heart which pulsates with love 
 
 for Christ, for pure womanhood, for noble 
 
 manhood, and for the honor 
 
 of our glorious 
 
 Southland. 
 
''''Most 7nen know love but as a part of life; 
 They hide it in some corner of the breast, 
 Even from themselves; and only ivhen they rest 
 In the brief pauses of that daily strife, 
 Wherewith the world might else be not so rife, 
 They draw it forth {as one draws forth a toy 
 To soothe some ardent, kiss-exacting boy) 
 And hold it up to sister, child or wife . 
 Ah me! why may not love and life be one? 
 Why walk we thus alone, when by our side, 
 Love, like a visible God, might be our guide f 
 How would the marts grow noble! and the street, 
 Worn like a dungeon floor by weary feet, 
 See m then a golden court-way of the sun!''"' 
 
 — Henry Timrod. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Introductory 9 
 
 Echoes from the Heart 13 
 
 The Wish of My Heart 14 
 
 Vivian 15 
 
 Greensboro 17 
 
 Sorrow's Midnight Thoughts 18 
 
 My Star of Hope 20 
 
 Away from Thee 27 
 
 The Little World of Love 29 
 
 Streams of Sorrow 31 
 
 Setting Sun 32 
 
 My Lost Lorene 33 
 
 Our Home 34 
 
 The Lover's Song 35 
 
 •When Looks Are Fond and Words Are Few" 35 
 
 The Hand of God 36 
 
 Twilight Whispers 37 
 
 The Blues 38 
 
 Memorial to An Aged Man 39 
 
 Acrostic to L. N. S 40 
 
 To My Affinity 41 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 To Louise 42 
 
 Transported Thoughts 43 
 
 Acrostic 44 
 
 My Angel 45 
 
 My Watch 47 
 
 Lorene 48 
 
 Come Back Again 49 
 
 Wanted, A Better Word 50 
 
 Eyes 51 
 
 Higher, Let Me Climb 51 
 
 Unknown Poems 53 
 
 Lorene 54 
 
 Vivian 55 
 
 My Mother's Prayers 55 
 
 Does My Darling Pray for Me 56 
 
 My Love 57 
 
 In An Album 58 
 
 Alabama 58 
 
 Fateful Questions 60 
 
 Only Lula 61 
 
 Only Waiting 68 
 
 Standing at the Door 64 
 
 Do You Love Me? 65 
 
 South Carolina 66 
 
 False 69 
 
 Nature's Model Poem 71 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 Alabama 37 
 
 Sickening When You're N'ot "In It" 75 
 
 To S. F. M 76 
 
 The Flirt's Policy 77 
 
 Vivian's Eyes 78 
 
 Parting Throbs 79 
 
 The Old Revelation 81 
 
 Let Me Try 81 
 
 Evening's Fond Retreat 82 
 
 Sonnet 84 
 
 Part II. 
 
 A Living Heroine 85 
 
 Part III. 
 
 Alabama Writers 141 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Professor Andrew M. McConuell was born in 
 Blount County, Alabama, April 22, 1873. The 
 community was twenty miles from any railroad, 
 on the Sand Mountain, one of the healthiest and 
 prettiest rolling countries of the South. His 
 father was a plain, unpretentious farmer who 
 made no more than enough to supply his actual 
 needs. 
 
 His early associates and surroundings were not 
 conducive to intellectual growth, nor calculated 
 to foster the spirit of high ambition which char- 
 acterizes this sweet singer of the South, and 
 which has served him for Herculean tasks. 
 
 As a child he describes himself as tmcouth. He 
 had no sister and only one brother, who was 
 twenty years older than himself; therefore, he 
 was mostly alone, communing with his thoughts 
 and growing aspirations. 
 
 At eleven, he commenced attending three months 
 schools ; the rest of the year doing hard work on 
 the farm. Trained with Puritan strictness, he 
 joined the Methodist church at eight, and be- 
 came a favorite with ministers, teachers and old 
 people. 
 
 At school he could not bear to be excelled in 
 study or play, and was graduated without a de- 
 merit. His insatiate love of knowledge led him to 
 read everything he could get, and after a hard 
 
lO 
 
 day's work he would pore over books until late 
 by a pine-knot light. 
 
 At fifteen, he attended, for four months, an 
 academy in a village nine miles away, and was 
 there advanced sufficiently to teach a country 
 school, but was too young. 
 
 In 1890, at the age of seventeen, he was ap- 
 pointed census enumerator, and in the month 
 saved one hundred dollars. With this and his 
 father's assistance, he was enabled to attend 
 Blount College one year. Next summer he taught 
 a country school of seventy-five pupils in a dis- 
 tant part of the county ; then returned to college, 
 and in the coming June received the degree, B. S., 
 gained the prize for the greatest improvement in 
 penmanship, had held a high ofi&ce in the military 
 organization, and represented his society in com- 
 mencement debate. 
 
 Next summer he commenced a three months 
 school, but his failing health compelled him 
 to give up the work. Later he obtained the 
 principalship of the Jonesboro Academy, situated 
 in thai beautiful resident town, thirteen miles 
 south of Birmingham . From an ordinary school of 
 thirty or forty pupils, he built it up in three 
 months to an enrollment of one hundred and 
 three, including some boarders; continued a ses- 
 sion; then taught some writing schools; then, a 
 summer school in Etowah County. 
 
 Next September, 1894, he taught a school in 
 the suburbs of the- citv of Bessemer, until Christ- 
 
II 
 
 mas; then attended the Southern University at 
 Greensboro, and in five months completed a full 
 yearns course, represented the Belles-lettres So- 
 ciety in commencement debate, and gained for it 
 the honors. 
 
 Last summer he traveled over a large portion 
 of his native State, met a number of writers, 
 educators and other distinguished persons; but 
 spent most of his time in writing and studying. 
 
 In the fall of 1894, he went to South Carolina 
 in order to learn more of the Southern States and 
 people, and accepted a position in the Blackville 
 High School. 
 
 As editor of the ^^ Department of Southern Liter- 
 ature^' in the Southern Homestead Magazine^ At- 
 lanta, Ga., he is doing a grand work. 
 
 At twenty-one, he was not known in the liter- 
 ary world ; during the following year, besides 
 writing a number of prose articles for periodicals, 
 he has written two hundred and fifty pages of 
 poetry, studied theology, metaphysics, general 
 literature, and read extensively in Southern litera- 
 ture; also has taught eight months, has given a 
 course of biographical lectures, and has been an 
 associate editor of the Southern Homestead Maga- 
 zine; notwithstanding his eyes, during half of the 
 year, would not admit of study at night. 
 
 Recently the young author, who never took a 
 drink of whisky, who never used tobacco in any 
 form, who never mingled with the giddy throng 
 of the ballroom, who never played cards, even 
 
12 
 
 as a social game, and from whose lips a profane 
 or indecent word was never heard to fall, was 
 licensed to preach bj the Methodist Episcopal 
 Chnrch, South. 
 
 The keys to his success, he gives in these four 
 mottoes : *^Where there is a will, there is a way ; '' 
 ^*They can conquer, who but think they can*/^ 
 ^^Man grows, as higher grows his aims;^' and 
 *^ What others can do, I can do,^^ 
 
 Comment is unnecessary. The bare facts tell 
 the story of struggling genius, indefatigable en- 
 ergy, and unconquerable ambition. This volume 
 of embryonic efforts, he designs not for the liter- 
 ary world, but for the people who would appre- 
 ciate songs from one of their own ways; yet 
 these, the verses of his boyhood, we feel to be but 
 a faint prelude to the flood of music that will 
 some day pour forth from the ripened soul of 
 this poet of the South. 
 
 MARIE ANNIE HENSON. 
 
 Fork Union, Virginia, June, 1895. 
 
ECMOES rROA\ TI1E HEART 
 
 There are echoes of music from Dreamland, 
 And whispers from Fancy's retreat; 
 
 They are sweet as home songs in the evening, 
 Which the ears of the wanderer meet. 
 
 There are echoes from voices in childhood, 
 In the merriest tones we have heard, 
 
 And they render onr soul ever joyous. 
 As the notes from a jubilant bird. 
 
 There are echoes from loved ones, departed. 
 Who have traveled a different way : 
 
 They are sung in the tenderest sadness 
 On the flutes for sweet Memory's lay. 
 
 There are echoes of songs from a dear one. 
 And the whispers of love, with its kiss ; 
 
 Not a tongue can express their sweet soothing, 
 Nor a pen e'er reveal their wild bliss. 
 
 Thus the heart ever echoes a music 
 
 Of a soft and enlivening sound, 
 It is laden with happiest feelings. 
 
 That a lonely, sad life ever found ! 
 
14 
 THE WISH OF MY HEART. 
 
 Oh ! could you only tell me, 
 
 With those sweet brown eyes of yours^ 
 That some day you may love me 
 
 With the love that e'er endures ; 
 
 My days would be far brighter — 
 All the stars would shine above ; 
 
 I'd mount the rounds of greatness, 
 If supported by your love. 
 
 And could you only trust me 
 
 With your hand and with your heart, 
 I'd pray for God to bless me. 
 
 With the honor due my part. 
 
 Michael Angelo was once asked to fashion a 
 statue out of sno w . Think of such a peerless genius 
 spending his invaluable time upon a foible of 
 fancy, which for its existence, depended upon the 
 fluctuations of temperature ! Just so foolish is it, 
 for gifted minds to contribute the supreme efforts 
 of their evanescent years, to appease the fickle 
 whims of reputation. All whose memories are 
 less ephemeral than their years, have painted the 
 incarnation of illustrious deeds and thoughts 
 upon the eternal and unsullied canvas of exalted 
 character. 
 
15 
 VIVIAN. 
 
 When the morning sun is rising, 
 
 Robed in silvery beams of white, 
 And so gently is baptizing 
 
 All the land with floods of light ; 
 When the dew is disappearing, 
 
 And its rainbows we can see ; 
 Then my mind is sweetly nearing, 
 
 Vivian, fair, with thoughts of thee! 
 
 When the sun in noonday splendor, 
 
 Rides upon his flames of fire. 
 And his rays so warm and tender 
 
 Clothe the earth in green attire ; 
 When mankind are happy drinking 
 
 Nature^s waters; cool, and free; 
 I am then so happy thinking, 
 
 Vivian, sweetest one, of thee ! 
 
 When the sun is calmly pacing 
 
 Down his western streets of gold. 
 And the evening skies embracing 
 
 All his parting smiles, to hold ; 
 When these beams, in sweet resplendence, 
 
 Are reflected o'er the lea ; 
 Then I think, with fond remembrance, 
 
 Vivian, loveliest one, of thee ! 
 
 When the evening shadows hover, 
 And the stars in heaven are found ; 
 
 When the darkness all things cover — 
 Laborers, tired, go, homeward bound ; 
 
i6 
 
 Then my heart is filled with sadness, 
 Hope, the only star for me. 
 
 Shines to fill my soul with gladness, 
 Vivian, noblest one, 'tis thee! 
 
 When the hours in study fleeting, 
 
 Fill my lamp with midnight oil, 
 And I seek from Sleep a greeting — 
 
 Shunning all my mental toil ; 
 First I kneel in secret prayer. 
 
 Asking blessings full and free — 
 All the Savior's tenderest care, 
 
 Vivian, purest one, for thee ! 
 
 Then when I am sweetly dreaming 
 
 Of fair Future's angel prize. 
 All I see in Fancy beaming, 
 
 Are your tender sweet brown eyes ; 
 All the bliss in Dreamland's glory — 
 
 All the hope it has for me— 
 Future's home will tell the story, 
 
 Viyian, dearest one, with thee I 
 
 There's not a pain that lives in sorrow 
 No thought that born with tear, 
 
 But what will be a joy to-morrow — 
 A smile so sweet and dear. 
 
17 
 
 GREENSBORO. 
 
 Far down the sunny side of '^Here we rest/^ 
 There blooms a Southern town by nature blest 
 
 With beauties rare, to love and please; 
 Sequestered round with shrub and spreading oak, 
 Its lovely homes are wrapped in Verdure's cloak, 
 
 Which kindly hails the sylvan breeze. 
 
 Pair lawns imprison Beauty in her prime; 
 
 Their shades overlook vied Pleasure's hidden mine, 
 
 Enchantment lends a brighter view — 
 What venerable, stately buildings grand ! 
 Where oft I know, have gentle zephyrs fanned. 
 
 For grief, a long, farewell adieu. 
 
 Fair Erin's wit, old England's pride, nor Spain, 
 Could ne'er for lovelier girls, and sweet, make claim , 
 
 Than those who grace our Southern land. 
 From broad Kentucky's blue grass fields of green 
 To Florida's coronal golden sheen 
 
 That decks the face of glowing sand, ] 
 
 There's not another town more richly blest. 
 With lovely happy homes, w^ith men the best. 
 Than this fair model town of Greensboro. 
 Sweet Spring, in virgin prime, from Winter's snow, 
 And all his chilling rain and dew, 
 
i8 
 
 Now hides in hearts of Japonicas red, 
 
 And mirrors the sweet smiles of May long dead. 
 
 But Spring, a sweeter, lovelier home than this, 
 Hath dedicated to vied Beauty^s throne— 
 This throne is sacred to the girls alone. 
 
 Whose smiles e^er bring Greensboro's bliss. 
 
 Hallov^^ed love, with peace of mind swings ajar 
 the golden gates of Eden, opening into earthly 
 Paradise. 
 
 The earthly abode of happiness is in the halls of 
 activity — never content to dwell in the house of 
 idleness. 
 
 SORROW'S MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 The night is cold and dark and dreary. 
 
 The rain is falling fast ; 
 And so my life is dark and sad and weary 
 
 With rain and storm and blast. 
 
 It seems sweet Sleep no more is coming. 
 My tear-drenched eyes to close. 
 
 The rain still beats its plaintive humming, 
 My heart with grief overflows. 
 
19 
 
 Oh ! mother ! mother, dear ! what's giving 
 
 My heart this bleeding sore? 
 Oh ! has she left this world of living? 
 
 She's gone f orevermore ! 
 
 Where is the lovely face of mother, 
 The wrinkled hands and brow? 
 
 Oh ! never can I love another. 
 As I love mother now ! 
 
 The hands that cared for me are moulding 
 
 And turning back to clay ; 
 The arms that held me oft, are folding, 
 
 In death's lone silent way. 
 
 The lips that kissed me oft are going 
 
 To leave no more imprint ; 
 The heart that loved me long is showing, 
 
 That life's sweet chord is rent. 
 
 My loving mother has departed 
 
 Far from this world of care, 
 My tender soul is broken-hearted 
 
 With grief I cannot bear. 
 
 O God ! send Thy comforting Saviour, 
 
 To guide my footsteps here, 
 So that I'll meet in heavenly favor, 
 
 My sainted mother dear ! 
 
20 
 
 MY STAR OF HOPE. 
 
 In the happy realms of Fancy, 
 There in peaceful skies of blue, 
 
 Shines my star of Hope so sweetly, 
 That no other star I view. 
 
 Many nights, it's lovely shining 
 Has so filled my heart with light. 
 
 That the night-time seems more lovely 
 Than the day with sun so bright. 
 
 When I first its rays saw streaming 
 To my lonely, saddened heart, 
 
 All my skies shone brightly beaming — 
 All the darkness did depart. 
 
 Ah ! what beauty then was filling 
 
 All the glory in the blue ; 
 Lonely cares it then was killing. 
 
 And my Guiding Star I knew. 
 
 Then I dropped my cares and climbing 
 Up the long and weary steep, 
 
 Sweetly did my Star keep timing 
 With its twinkling to my feet. 
 
 Calmly breezes then were blowing. 
 Laden with a blissful peace ; 
 
 Happy flowers there were growing. 
 Lovelier than the Golden Fleece. 
 
21 
 
 Onward tip the rising mountain, 
 Nothing but my Star to lead ! 
 
 Drinking at each clear cool fountain, 
 Nothing but my Star to heed ! 
 
 Soon strong wings, to me, were given. 
 
 Swiftly to my Star I flew ; 
 Oh! it was a happy heaven. 
 
 Then to meet it in the blue. 
 
 We had met before — no never. 
 But my heart said ^t would not do 
 
 From that time, till death, to sever, 
 From my soul, the Star in blue. 
 
 Long we wandered mid the glory 
 
 Of cerulean joys so free — 
 Happier than heroes of story, 
 
 Ever found Fruition^s lea. 
 
 Still more sweets were e^er unfolding 
 To my rapture-stricken gaze — 
 
 Still my Star is kindly holding 
 All the hope of earthly days. 
 
 Star of Hope ! ^tis thou, in splendor. 
 Queenly rules two castles grand ; 
 
 And thy heart, supremely tender. 
 Scatters sunshine o^er the land. 
 
22 
 
 Literature's castle lightening 
 A.11 earth's care, to give it love ; 
 
 Art's fair temple ever brightening, 
 With the beauties from above. 
 
 These two temples in fair Aidenn, 
 Thou art evermore their queen ; 
 
 And v^hen death shall bring thee laden 
 With the richest harvest seen, 
 
 Oh ! then I'll praise the God of heaven. 
 Who kindly gave our Southern sky. 
 
 The brightest star that could be given — 
 A jewel from an angel's eye. 
 
 The golden beams my Star sent flowing. 
 All through my warm and tender soul. 
 
 Then filled my life with purest glowing. 
 And ever through my heart will roll 
 
 A music sweet v^ith heavenly beauty — 
 The noblest songs of God and love— 
 
 An aim to work and do my duty 
 And store my treasures all above. 
 
 So sweetly, through Elysium gliding 
 With thee, my Guiding Star of hope, 
 
 A nameless longing, life abiding. 
 With thee to go adown life's slope. 
 
23 
 
 Oh, Duty! cruel, good, both blending. 
 Conspired to part me from my Star ; 
 
 Oh parting pain ! what grief so rending ! 
 When time and distance did debar? 
 
 Youthful visions long unfolding. 
 All life's beauties sweet and fair. 
 
 Faintly seemed a phantom, rolling 
 To my Star of beauty rare. 
 
 Sweet Angel, since raj childhood dreaming 
 Of blissful joys in Fancy born. 
 
 Ambition points, v^ith glorious beaming, 
 A Star of Hope my heart to adorn. 
 
 I trusted God, forever believing 
 
 His hand, some day, would kindly guide 
 To one congenial, e'er achieving, 
 
 To stand in love close by my side. 
 
 A voice, it seemed, so gently told me. 
 When first I gladly read your book. 
 
 You were my Guiding Star to hold me. 
 Since then my hope can't help but look 
 
 To you, dear one, from all the living. 
 
 To be my only Love so true ; 
 For more of joy to me you're giving, 
 
 Than all the rest of earth can do. 
 
24 
 
 I could not think that Fate intended 
 To give such honor to my part, 
 
 But still you say our souls are blended, 
 And that you love me from your heart ; 
 
 When I have nothing for your liking — 
 No work commending for my name, 
 
 While others, talented, striking, 
 And who have won a lasting fame. 
 
 Quite oft, to you, their love, have plighted, 
 And longed to ever live for you, 
 
 Have had their fondest hopes e*er blighted, 
 And lost the poise of manhood's due. 
 
 And still you gave to me love's greeting, 
 To others, ne'er you'd faintly shown, 
 
 And that just after our first meeting — 
 Oh ! has it not God's pointing shown? 
 
 I think fair Favor's envied smiling. 
 And many talents just and true, 
 
 Good Heaven will give me for my whiling, 
 Until I'm worthy, Love, of you. 
 
 I look for Fortune's kind caresses. 
 
 And lovely music from above, 
 As long as God so richly blesses 
 
 Me with your warm and tender love. 
 
25 
 
 How could He now be but alltiriiag 
 With hopes that I can never gain? 
 
 Oh! could He leave without assuring, 
 That soon, the goal, I may attain? 
 
 No Fate can never sadly sever, 
 For aye, the souls that now are twin. 
 
 We can^t be haunted long with ^* Never,'' 
 We cannot bear : ^*It might have been/^ 
 
 But as this life is not for pleasure, 
 Nor all our work for selfish gain. 
 
 If duty take from me my treasure, 
 I'll bravely' bear the rending pain. 
 
 For duty, would my face be smiling. 
 For you, my heart would bear its tear; 
 
 For God, my hours, I'd e'er be whiling, 
 For you, my memory would be dear. 
 
 And if in love, you give another, 
 The lovely hand that lay in mine; 
 
 In me you'll have a darling brother— 
 A brother's love will still be thine. 
 
 But if for any reasons, other 
 Than love then found sincerely true, 
 
 You give your hand then to another, 
 But still love me till life be through. 
 
26 
 
 Oh! in sorrow would be blighted, 
 
 All the peace of life for me ! 
 All my days would seem blighted 
 
 With the gloom of misery ! 
 
 I'd be alone in troubles sailing 
 0*er my life's dread wasteful main; 
 
 The winds would howl a plaintive wailing- 
 Death would be a happy pain. 
 
 For us to love, and ne'er united, 
 Have to leave from life its bliss, 
 
 Would cause me, if by sin benighted. 
 Soon to end my days in this. 
 
 But when the friends of earth forsake me. 
 
 And my loved one turns to go, 
 Oh ! then my God will kindly take me, 
 
 Far from this sad world of woe ! 
 
 But let us never look for sorrows, 
 And pine o'er all expected woe; 
 
 But live in hope^of bright to-morrows, 
 And gather smiles while on we go. 
 
 ^*Ah, well! for us" one *'sweet hope lies, 
 Deeply buried from human eyes ; 
 
 And in the future, angels may 
 
 Roll the stone, from its grave away." 
 
27 
 
 Your angel smiles embody a stm that makes 
 my heart bloom with many sweet, fragrant 
 roses of tender loye. 
 
 Smiles re-echo the music of the soul. 
 
 AWAY FROM THEE. 
 
 How can I spend these lonely hours- 
 How can lifers blessings fall in showers, 
 
 Away from thee? 
 
 How can I hear the bird^s sweet singing. 
 How can I feel the joys now springing, 
 
 Away from thee? 
 
 How can I hunt, with friends, for pleasure. 
 How can I count long hours a treasure, 
 
 Away from thee? 
 
 How can my days be blest of Heaven, 
 How can I work to spread life's leaven, 
 
 Away from thee? 
 
 How can I wait our next sweet meeting. 
 And live so long without love's greeting. 
 
 Away from thee? 
 
 My mind is dull but e'er reflecting 
 Of all the joys I'm not expecting, 
 
 A^vay from thee? 
 
28 
 
 My days are many, long, and dreary— 
 My heart is sad and lone and weary. 
 
 Away from thee ! 
 
 I'll tell thee how I'll spend each hour. 
 For which, I pray God's strongest power^ 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 Until our meeting's lonely lateness, 
 I'll work to do all deeds of greatness, 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 I'll strive to mark, like those of story. 
 My life, with acts for Honor's glory. 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 I'll hunt for all life's peaceful beauty, 
 I'll try to do each coming duty, 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 I'll pray for thee in secret prayer, 
 I'll ask for us His tenderest care, 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 For thee, I'll soar to Fancy's Aidenn, 
 That all my songs be music laden, 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 I'll tune my soul to beauties beaming, 
 With brightness only known to seeming. 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
29 
 
 1^1 fehow my pen the paths, though olden, 
 That lead the mind to thoughts still golden, 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 I'll wear a smile for duty's calling, 
 And think of thee, whate'er's befalling, 
 
 While away from thee. 
 
 So when that happy hour of meeting 
 Arrives, at la6t,to bring love's greeting, 
 
 When I meet with thee. 
 
 For all my work at God's commanding, 
 I'll be of high and noble standing, 
 
 Worthy, Love, of thee! 
 
 THE LITTLE WORLD OF LOVE. 
 
 There's a little sweet world, 
 With a king and a queen — 
 
 ^Tis the happiest world 
 That earth's mortals have seen. 
 
 'Tis the land of True Love, 
 With its flowers so sweet ; 
 
 It was sent from above. 
 For the lover's retreat. 
 
 'Tis the home of the Spring 
 And the beauties of May, 
 
 Where the birds ever sing 
 All the sadness away. 
 
30 
 
 There the heart is the sun, 
 With a tender soft light, 
 
 And lovers moon has been won, 
 For the glory of night. 
 
 'Tis a land by the sea. 
 
 With the river of Joy ; 
 Where the Pleasures are free. 
 
 And no woes can annoy. 
 
 'Tis the home of Content, 
 Where she dwells all the while > 
 
 And her blessings are sent 
 In a peaceful, sweet smile. 
 
 There a breeze gently blows 
 From the haven of bliss. 
 
 And there nobody knows, 
 When lovers stealing a kiss. 
 
 'Tis a world for just two — 
 Its rich king and fair queen ; 
 
 They are strolling it through , 
 While they're living a dream. 
 
 Many live there alone. 
 
 Just to list to the sigh 
 Of sad Memory's moan 
 
 For the dead, sleeping nigh. 
 
31 
 
 Many pine in its shade 
 O'er a heart rent in twain, 
 
 By a traitor betrayed, 
 After hope had been slain. 
 
 Many live there for life 
 
 Mid its bonntifnl bliss, 
 Far away from the strife 
 
 And the trouble of this. 
 
 'Tis a little sweet world, 
 With a king and a queen ; 
 
 'Tis the happiest world 
 That earth's mortals have seen, 
 
 A life without love is like a violin without a 
 bow to awaken the music. 
 
 STREAMS OF SORROW. 
 
 Every heart has a trouble, 
 And an unknown woe. 
 
 Where the lonely, cold rivers 
 Of grief ever flow. 
 
 'Tis a wail trom the desert 
 
 Of a wasted life. 
 Or a groan o'er the failures 
 
 In a hopeless strife. 
 
3a 
 
 Weary man bom of sorrows, 
 
 There is yet a balm — 
 In the happy to-morrows, 
 
 Many days of calm. 
 
 Breathe a pra^yer in the evening 
 From that heart of thine, 
 
 Praying blessing of Heaven 
 Evermore to shine. 
 
 There is balm in sweet Gilead 
 And a peace thine own ; 
 
 There is glory in living 
 When the clouds have flown. 
 
 SETTING SUN. 
 
 There^s a bright and golden glory 
 Round the setting of sun, 
 
 And a soft tender radiance 
 From its flushings have come. 
 
 So when life's sun is setting. 
 
 May eff'ulgence remain 
 Of a fair golden splendor, 
 
 From a life without stain ! 
 
 May it fall in tenderness 
 O'er the hearts that 1 love; 
 
 May it point them to Heaven, 
 And beckon them above. 
 
33 
 MY LOST LORENE. 
 
 In a lone valley rise, my dear one lies 
 
 'Neath the flowers that sigh round her tomb. 
 
 And the willow trees weep in mournful sleep 
 For the love and the joy of life's bloom. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Oh ! my darling Lorene never more is seen, 
 
 Since we laid her to rest in the grave. 
 And my joys ever seem still to haunt the stream, 
 
 And to weep o'er her dear lonely grave. 
 
 Many years now have past since I saw her last, 
 
 Still I list to the strains of regret; 
 For a dreariness sways all the burdensome days. 
 
 Since the star of my hope has been set. 
 
 But in Heaven above I shall meet my Love, 
 And we never shall part any more. 
 
 She will greet with a kiss at the gates of bliss ! 
 And we'll live there to love as before ! 
 
 This heart of mine has culled from the murmer- 
 ings of streams, the songs of birds, the fragrance 
 of flowers, the whispers of fancy, the longings of 
 childhood, the musings of Dreamland and the 
 echoes of hope, a garland of tender words for 
 love's dictionary, which at every touch of the 
 pen, like a kaleidoscope, it presents a new and 
 varied picture of the beautiful queen of my afi'ec- 
 tions. 
 
34 
 
 OUR HOME. 
 
 We'll have a home, somewhere, vSometime, 
 
 My darling Love and I ; 
 Where happy days will sweetly chime 
 
 In music as they die. 
 The future years of love and rhyme 
 
 Will kiss and pass on by. 
 
 Perhaps 'twill be a cottage neat, 
 
 Where want has bid farewell, 
 Upon a cosy lawn retreat, 
 
 Where Love has come to dwell. 
 And everything be fair and sweet, 
 
 Beyond what words can tell. 
 
 Perchance in noisy city's din — 
 
 But be it where it may, 
 A quiet peace will reign within, 
 
 Where Love and I shall stay. 
 Content and joy we'll kindly win. 
 
 And keep them every day. 
 
 That home may be an Aidenn shore. 
 
 Beyond life's sunset glare, 
 In lovely Eden's garden store, 
 
 'Mid beauties sweet and rare: 
 Somewhere, sometime, we'll part no more! 
 
 Then love's vied bliss we'll share ! 
 
35 
 
 THE LOVERS' SONG. 
 
 We don't know what the future brings, 
 
 We'll only love and wait, 
 And fly with hope, on viewless wings, 
 
 To lovely Eden's gate. 
 
 We know our hearts were made to love, 
 
 And taught to e'er be true ; 
 We know our souls will join above, 
 
 When parting pain is through ! 
 
 But can't sweet Hymen for us join 
 Our hands and hearts while here, 
 
 A mUvSic sweet of union born 
 Would soothe each coming year. 
 
 We don't know what Hereafter gives, 
 
 We'll hope it's only bliss — 
 A home where love in fondness lives, 
 
 And Heaven sends its kiss. 
 
 ^'WHEN LOOKS ARE FOND AND WORDS 
 ARE FEW." 
 
 No words are coined that can reveal 
 The happiness which lovers feel. 
 While hearts are learning to be true — 
 ^^When looks are fond and words are few.'* 
 
 They seek the lone sequestered spot 
 Where blooms the sweet forget-me-not; 
 Then, falls love's peace with evening dew, 
 *^When looks are fond and words are few.'^ 
 
36 
 
 Then, strolling home by Lima's light, 
 They feel a joy beyond delight, 
 While stars are peeping through the blue, 
 And *^looks are fond and words are few !'' 
 
 They sip from future's cup its bliss, 
 
 And find a heav'n in ever}'' kiss, 
 
 An feel enraptured, through and through, 
 
 ^'When looks are fond and words are few !'' 
 
 They sail for earth's enchanted isle, 
 Where Peace and Love forever smile, 
 There Paradise they still renew, 
 •^'When looks are fond and words are few!" 
 
 THE HAND OF GOD. 
 
 I was born in Poverty's dry vale, 
 
 Bred to work and bear the sun ; 
 But no man is doomed to work and fail, 
 
 Better climes, I since have won — 
 'Twas the hand of God! 
 
 Days have filled themselves with dread despair, 
 
 Bringing nothing but sad gloom. 
 Times have borne me cares too hard to bear. 
 
 Still the springtime came with bloom. 
 'Twas the hand of God. 
 
37 
 
 Many times I've fallen helpless, faint, 
 Struggling hard up learning's hill; 
 
 But the goal ne'er smiled to greet complaint,. 
 Birth was given to my will ! 
 'Twas the hand of God. 
 
 TWILIGHT WHISPERS. 
 
 The evening breezes stir 
 
 A sweet but plaintive murmur — 
 The whispers borne from her 
 
 Who holds my heart in bondage. 
 
 A soothing calm they give 
 Of tender peace and quiet ; 
 
 They ask me should I live 
 Forever 'way from Lula ! 
 
 Their gentle sighs repeat 
 The echoes low and cheering, 
 
 Of words in answered greet 
 To love made known at twilight, 
 
 Mild zephyrs, bear a word 
 From me to distant Lula ; 
 
 It fell from Hymen's bird, 
 Which sings of blissful union : 
 
 Remind her of the day, 
 Still bound in fairy future. 
 
 The first of tranquil May, 
 When we shall enter Eden ! 
 
38 
 THE BLUES. 
 
 Long dreary days of burdened gloom, 
 Oft wilt awhile life's fragrant bloom ; 
 Ah ! would a gentle hand then choose 
 To fondly pet away the blues. 
 
 My spirit sinks to dread despair, 
 And moans o'er heavy cares to bear; 
 Life's sweetening peace withholds its dues, 
 Without a hand to soothe the blues. 
 
 When hopeless failures end the day, 
 And dreariness beclouds my way, 
 To grief I bear the dreaded news, 
 Without loved hands to calm the blues. 
 
 A gentle, tender, maiden hand. 
 Resigned for life to love's command, 
 Would bring the balm Content renews. 
 By fondling off the dreaded blues. 
 
 There is a sacredly sweet pleasure and a timely 
 exercise of virtue in supporting each other, like 
 the cedars of Lebanon, till across the treacherous 
 quicksands between worthy effort and liberal 
 recognition. 
 
39 
 
 MEMORIAL TO AN AGED MAN. 
 
 Buried is my father, loved so dearly ^ 
 
 Buried with my joy, beneath the rose. 
 Time has made his weary feet to falter, 
 
 And into the stream of Death he goes. 
 Many weary years of humble labor, 
 
 Came and found him toiling for the right; 
 Valiantly he led the Christian vanguard. 
 
 Conquering all with Christ's sweet love and light, 
 
 Kindly trained he me, in early childhood, 
 Guided all my steps with loving care. 
 
 Never uttered he a word of scolding- 
 Love, that winning law, so good and rare, 
 
 Swayed he all in meek and kind obeyance. 
 Now his form grows young in vernal May, 
 
 Over life's tempestuous murky billows. 
 Where he lives in Heaven's eternal day. 
 
 Never longed he for life's fame and honor. 
 
 Only cared to walk the humble way. 
 Winters long of earthly cold and worry. 
 
 Came to bleach his hair a silvery gray ; 
 Sixty-seven springs, robed in their flowers, 
 
 Filled his heart with gentleness and love; 
 And as many autumns, with their harvests, 
 
 Garnered he life's golden grain above. 
 
 E'er the angel, Death, came with his summons, 
 God had caused his time-worn feet to rest — 
 
 Paralyzed, they lay in quiet stillness. 
 Resting calm to walk the regions blest. 
 
40 
 
 Sweet repose, before the farewell parting ! 
 
 Sunset radiance shone in golden tints, 
 Flushing splendors from a life of virtue. 
 
 Leaving in our hearts his kind imprints. 
 
 Time, that restless, swift, and turbid river, 
 
 Bore his spirit from its house of clay 
 To that Aidenn home so bright and vernal. 
 
 Perennial with the treasured sweets ot May. 
 Sands of earth oft glitter with rich jewels, 
 
 But our God sends Time and Death to store, 
 And to bear them to that Sweet Beyond, 
 
 Where thev'll shine in crowns forevermore. 
 
 ACROSTIC TO L. N. S. 
 
 Lula, name that sounds still sweeter 
 Unto me each time I see 
 Lovely curls and shining tresses, 
 And her smile my lovers beguile. 
 
 Never can my heart, hereafter, 
 E'en, forget the times I met 
 Lula's fond glad smile of welcome. 
 Sweetest peace wilFnever cease 
 Over memory land to hover, 
 ^Newing thrills her music wills. 
 
41 
 
 So as years roll in the future, 
 And perchance, if Fate^s romance 
 Name a farewell day of parting, 
 Drown the hope that lives in longing, 
 Even the lays of loving days, 
 Kound my heart will twine a pleasure, 
 Such as came with Lula^s name ! 
 
 TO MX AFFINITY 
 
 It is not doubting thy sincerity, 
 That gives my eye its frequent tear ; 
 
 But it is Fate^s unkind severity, 
 Which never brings thy presence near. 
 
 I never fear— thy looks were lying. 
 But 'twixt us are full many miles. 
 
 Which make my life continued dying, 
 Deprived of thy angelic smiles ! 
 
 'Tis not despair — thy love decaying. 
 That robs each day of all that^s sweet; 
 
 But ^tis the long — too long ! delaying 
 Of Heaven on earth — When we shall meet! 
 
 The roses of love beautify the garden of life. 
 
 4 
 
42 
 
 TO LOUISE. 
 
 Your tender eyes of blue 
 Which sparkle like the dew 
 And whisper you are true, 
 My poise of heart annoy, 
 And all my thoughts decoy. 
 
 Your lovely rosy face, 
 Enhanced with nameless grace — 
 The model of our race, 
 ^Tis this that I admire. 
 Enkindling love-lit fire ! 
 
 Your sweet delicious lips. 
 Where love its nectar slips, 
 And bliss its sweetness sips ! — 
 I live a painful sigh. 
 Debarred from Heaven so nigh ! 
 
 Your wealth of raven hair 
 And bordering curls so fair 
 Entraps a beauty rare, 
 And charm my heart to tell 
 Louise, I love you well ^ 
 
 And when you sweetly sing, 
 Emotions tender spring 
 And bear me on the wing 
 Above life's care and strife 
 Into a happier life. 
 
43 
 
 Your nobleness and pride 
 And virtues that abide, 
 Which angels could not chide, 
 Enthrone you as the shrine 
 To woo this heart of mine ^ 
 
 TRANSPORTED THOUGHTS. 
 
 Sweet emotions unknown to the tongue of ex- 
 pression. 
 Oft enkindle their fires on the hearth of the heart ; 
 And our thoughts, their bright sparks, fly upward 
 
 and vanish, 
 Only seem to regret that they rose to depart. 
 Like a child, we will grasp at their brightness, 
 
 and wonder 
 That a beauty so rare was permitted to die. 
 Ne'er are words so transparent as to minor their 
 
 image; 
 Nevermore they return ; we bemoan with a sigh ! 
 
 Oh, the embers which sparkle in splendor and vanish 
 
 As they rise to a height where no mortal has been ! 
 They are sighs from the Finite, enslaved, craving 
 
 freedom 
 
 In the realms of Infinity, beyond our ken. 
 Aspirations too pure not to rise toward Heaven, 
 
 And refuse to decay with the treasures of Time. 
 When they pass from our sight, I imagine bright 
 
 angels 
 
 Sweetly sing these soul songs to a music divine ^ 
 
44 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 How sweetly lives the year now dead ! 
 Ah ! blest its spring wherein our souls were wed I 
 Preserve for love this hallowed year just fled, 
 Pour Memory's incense round its sacred June, 
 Youth's heaven of love then ope'd life's fragrant 
 
 bloom. 
 
 Bright springs, with twenty wreaths of flowers 
 Intrusted thee their beauties — winsome powers * 
 Rich summers twenty times dissolved in thee, 
 Their sweet quintescent gentleness and glee; 
 How grand the gift of twenty autumn dyes ! 
 Dear wealth of harvest hue they gave thy eyes ; 
 As oft, cold winter snows, thy heart ne'er chilled^' 
 Yet into it their purity instilled. 
 
 This year, may Heaven send its joys as free, 
 
 O Love ! as w^hen I found earth's heaven in thee ! 
 
 My thoughts rob every moment of its tear — 
 You know each brings our meeting still more 
 
 near I 
 
 Love whispers Hope's consoling, soothing peace : 
 Our severed heart-aches some sweet day will cease. 
 Void life, were hearts not free to choose their 
 
 mates, 
 Enslaved, oh, hell I to take the will of Fates • 
 
45 
 
 MY ANGEL. 
 
 There's an angel 'mong us earthlings, 
 Come to glad the hearts of men ; 
 
 And my only sad misgiving- 
 Do you chide me with a sin? — 
 
 Is, I love her far too dearly, 
 Wishing, hoping her my own. 
 
 In my mind she lives so nearly. 
 Thoughts of others long have flown. 
 
 ^*Angel?'' yes, for none are purer, 
 
 Sent by God to fallen men. 
 Making hopes of Heaven surer, 
 
 Smiling off the thoughts of sin. 
 Heaven's gentleness residing 
 
 In her tender, virgin heart. 
 Beaming through her eyes, confiding, 
 
 All the sweetness looks impart. 
 
 Eyes that show the soul's deep beautj', 
 
 Wield an influence most divine ; 
 And her heart' s resigned to duty — 
 
 Angel, to this life of mine I 
 None can know her but to love her. 
 
 None can name her but to praise. 
 Zephyrs play my heart-song 'bove her: 
 
 ^^Wondrous are her works and ways!'' 
 
 Heaven wills each man an angel, 
 Just to calm his troubled life ; 
 
 Such a sacred, pure evangel. 
 Is his loving, trusting wife. 
 
46 
 
 But if Fate, so heartless, cruel, 
 Chains him from his angel love, 
 
 He ne'er finds another jewel, 
 Fit to lure his soul above. 
 
 So the angel God intended 
 For my life, my heart has found ; 
 
 Sweet to know my wanderings ended, 
 And to feel our souls are bound. 
 
 But a feeling worse than sadness, 
 
 Stays to haunt me with its pain, 
 Only hope can \srhisper gladness — 
 
 'Twixt us intervenes a plain ! 
 Months will pass before our meeting. 
 
 Heals the wounds of long good-bye. 
 Love will keep the hours from fleeting, 
 
 Loading each one with a sigh ! 
 
 Dear friend, I wish you all the smile 
 
 Fair future holds in store ; 
 And trust you'll live in hearts not vile 
 
 When you are here no more. 
 
 I gaze at my star of Hope, through a shower of 
 wishful tears and see glimmering tints of a rainbow 
 of promise. Unending thanks to Fate if he will 
 brighten the bow. 
 
47 
 MY WATCH. 
 
 Many brag of their watches 
 Keeping times to the spheres ; 
 
 And to hear them tell it, 
 They don^t vary in years. 
 
 But my watch is as diflferent 
 As a mule from a sheep; 
 
 It believes in changing, 
 No monotony to keep. 
 
 When I call on my sweetheart, 
 On the weather to chat. 
 
 My wild watch runs faster 
 Than a frightened stray cat. 
 
 When ray girl is a-singing 
 A love song, just for me, 
 
 Every minute hops quicker, 
 Than an Alabama flea. 
 
 When her mother keeps sitting 
 
 In the parlor with us, 
 Till I have to leave her 
 
 Without getting a buss. 
 
 Then my watch runs slower, 
 Like a pull up the grade, 
 
 And I never felt ^*worser,'' 
 Since the day I was made. 
 
48 
 
 When she tells me she loves me 
 And is glad when I come; 
 
 Till next time, my watch slumbers, 
 Like a nig in the sun. 
 
 I have known it to vary, 
 
 Six long hours in a day ; 
 It'll gain three when I am with her, 
 
 And lose three when away. 
 
 LORENE, 
 
 'Tis the home of my youth, and I love it so well : 
 There I roamed with Lorene o'er the hills and the 
 
 dells; 
 We would chase butterflies and we'd hunt for 
 
 birds' nests, 
 While we list to the singing of Robin-red-breast. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Gone, those days with my love and my darling 
 
 Lorene ; 
 I am living the past — all ray joys are a dream 
 Of those happy spring days, and the sweet little 
 
 girl, 
 With a smiling, bright face and a long, golden curl! 
 
49 
 
 We would gather wild flowers as we strolled 
 
 down the way 
 To the river, and wandered the rest of the day 
 Long the shore, watching fish, as we played in 
 
 the sand ; 
 But as sun would go down, we went home, hand 
 
 in hand. 
 
 Soon sad death tore my heart from my darling 
 
 Lorene, 
 And she went to that land which we never have 
 
 seen. 
 But returns every night for my vigils to keep. 
 While I vslumber and dream in my peaceful sweet 
 
 sleep ! 
 
 COME BACK AGAIN. 
 (Song.) 
 
 Come once more, my wayward lover, 
 
 Bring again your sweetest smile. 
 As you did in days long ended, 
 
 When your heart was free from guile. 
 Walk with me in dreamy woodlands 
 
 Where the quiet zephyrs blow ; 
 Sing again, ye birds, as sweetly 
 
 As the birds we used to know ! 
 
50 
 
 Wander with me to the willow 
 
 Standing on a rising knoll ; 
 Sing again sweet love songs tender, 
 
 Breathing peace all through my soul ; 
 Call me still your ^ ^little darling/^ 
 
 As you did once 1 ong ago ; 
 Look again love's tender feeling, 
 
 Which would send a heavenly glow ! 
 
 Tell your love in happy fondness. 
 
 Fold your trusting arms around, 
 Draw me to your noble bosom. 
 
 Kiss each smile that can be found ; 
 Bring again those pleasures golden, 
 
 Love me as you used to do — 
 Bring, once more, the blisses olden. 
 
 Tell me that you will be true ! 
 
 WANTED A BETTER WORD. 
 
 Give me a w^ord. Oh thou sweet singing bird. 
 Plucked from the roses that bloom in the heart. 
 
 Borne by a dove from its garden of love. 
 That to my dearest fair one will impart — 
 
 Feeling untold, that my heart cannot hold ! 
 
 Love is too weak to express its sweet bliss. 
 Can it be found with such musical sound. 
 
 As to reveal the vied sweets of her kiss? 
 
51 
 
 EYES. 
 
 I love the modest, brown-eyed girls 
 With golden hair and auburn curls, 
 Whose eyes entrap the autumn hue, 
 Reflected through the harvest dew.' 
 
 I love the gentle blue-eyed girls 
 With shining hair and raven curls, 
 Whose eyes have stolen azure blue 
 From nights of moonless summer view. 
 
 The sw^eet brown eyes reveal a soul 
 And heart of purest, lasting gold ; 
 A lovely grace, and beauty rare 
 Is hid in orbs so sweetly fair. 
 
 Oh, tender eyes of heavenly blue! 
 They show a heart that's kind and true ; 
 They beam with virtue's angel smile. 
 And ne'er will trusting ones beguile. 
 
 HIGHER, LET ME CLIMB. 
 
 I'm broken-hearted, sad, and weary here. 
 Oppressed wnth toil and common fretful care; 
 There's nothing round me but a j)ressing crowd, 
 Unknown I sigh beneath life's shadowed^shroud. 
 
 I'm tired of this dark, slippery, narrow dell. 
 Where heartless, wretched millions round'me dwell ; 
 Ah ! can it be mad Fate's unchanging will 
 To bury me at foot of Honor's hill ? 
 
52 
 
 My heart is burning with ambition's fire, 
 My soul now craves to fly to regions higher, 
 Where live in manly prime the good and great 
 In happy homes in Manhood's grand estate. * 
 
 Oh ! have I power to mount and climb 
 The snow-capped mountains of my restless time? 
 Will feet and hands and will and muscle bring 
 The strength to reach life's cool refreshing spring? 
 
 Ye favored few, who live in Guerdon sweet, 
 Oh ! come and help me climb this rocky steep; 
 But if you can't, then give a w^elcome smile, 
 'Twill bring me rest and courage all the while. 
 
 God help me reach that genius-gifted height 
 Where thoughts e'er shine wnth Heavenly light. 
 To brighten long, this dark, benighted place, 
 Where walk the unlearned sons of Adam's race. 
 
 Make haste, mj soul ! Life's rising mornino; sun 
 Is flying fast ; his course will soon be run ; 
 And strive to leave some act or thought sublime, 
 To better fallen man and conquer time. 
 
 I'll hold a prayer and a thought for thee — 
 One thought as long as the time shall be, 
 'Till work is done and I'm duty free. 
 Ah ! then voull see a fond smile and me ! 
 
53 
 UNKNOWN POEMS. 
 
 Every heart has some beautiful poems 
 With a musical rhythm and rhyme, 
 
 Never sung to the pen but in mocking, 
 But the soul feels their sweetness of chime. 
 
 There is one, a smooth song of the river. 
 With a chorus of love very sv^eet ; 
 
 There the trust of a heart was once given, 
 And was sealed in that kissing retreat. 
 
 There are streams of the loneliest wailing — 
 The refrains of the dying and dead, 
 
 With a chorus of the sweet Remember, 
 In the tones of the hope that has tied. 
 
 But the poem that^s sweetest and dearest, 
 Is the chiming of golden soft bells ; 
 
 With the rhyming of lovers' fond union. 
 And the rhythm of Eden it swells ! 
 
 The old Latin maxim, ^^They can conquer who 
 but think they can,^^ is an aphoristic embodiment 
 of my soul's most steadfast belief. And I will 
 conquer or prove false the motto : ''Where there 
 is a will, there is a way,'' which has piloted every 
 illustrious seaman safely across the tempestuous 
 sea of life's endless endeavor, to earth's haven of 
 immortal memory and into Heaven's still harbor 
 of eternal felicity. 
 
54 
 LORENE. 
 
 While musing through a happy lovelit dream, 
 I heard an angePs whisper breathe, ^^Lorene/^ 
 
 A blissful stillness calmed my restless soul, 
 And soothing peace did o'er me softly roll. 
 
 A tender joy that's only known to seem, 
 
 Came with that lovely childhood name, Lorene. 
 
 Ah! would you know the spell that bound the 
 
 dream. 
 The name's my guardian angel Love, Lorene. 
 
 I'll glide on down my life's imbittered stream. 
 And list to angel songs from sweet Lorene. 
 
 VIVIAN. 
 
 Vivian ! 'tis the music of my dreaming. 
 
 The name that fills my heart with love; 
 Word that's sweeter than the bliss^of seeming, 
 
 A sample of the names above, 
 Lovely poem of an untold sweetness, 
 
 A song that echoes through my soul. 
 Name that makes my cares take lightning fleet 
 ness. 
 
 While blissful joys around me roll. 
 
55 
 
 Vivian ! name that wakes my longing, 
 
 And bids me soar on tireless wing 
 Far above the atmosphere of wronging 
 
 To honor's cool, refreshing spring; 
 Name that lifts my soul to fancies golden, 
 
 Around the Eden home of love, 
 Bringing sweeter peace than known of olden. 
 
 When Heaven sent its angel dove. 
 
 Vivian ! name that makes me think of Aidenn, 
 
 Sweet home that Future holds for me 
 And the fair and lovely angel maiden, 
 
 Who^ll bless my heart, and days to be. 
 Name that sings of sweeter hope and glory 
 
 Than ever thrilled my heart of old. 
 And the one that prompts the old, old story 
 
 Of love for her the name doth hold. 
 
 MY MOTHER'S PRAYERS. 
 
 This vexing world of troubling cares 
 Has nothing sweet as mother's prayers; 
 They drive my trials far away. 
 And seem my only help and stay. 
 
 This sinful world of luring snares, 
 Has nothing good as mother's prayers; 
 They bear my thoughts to Heaven's home, 
 And keep my feet from vice to roam. 
 
56 
 
 Oh ! saintly mother's tender prayer ! 
 'Tis richest blessing life can share. 
 O mother, pray ! Thy prayers alone 
 Can for thy son^s wrong deeds atone! 
 
 DOES MY DARLING PRAY FOR ME? 
 
 When the shades of evening gather, 
 
 Borne on dusky wings of Night, 
 And fair Luna, through her pity, 
 
 Comes to calm with soothing light; 
 When these hours of mellow moonlight. 
 
 Smoothly glide o'er work and thee, 
 Till sweet sleep has called for Alice, 
 
 Does my darling pray for me ? 
 
 If a prayer of gentle whispers 
 
 Fly to Heaven's throne for me. 
 From her soul so pure and holy. 
 
 Then far stronger I would be. 
 All the strength of manhood's valor, 
 
 All the courage left the free, 
 I would use for right and honor. 
 
 If my darling prayed for me. 
 
 Ever since our first sweet meeting. 
 
 While my heart has learned to love, 
 I have bowed before my dreaming. 
 
 Asking angels from above 
 Then to hover round sweet Alice, 
 
 Till the ghostly shades would flee,— 
 Praying love to make me holy — 
 
 Did my darling pray for me ? 
 
57 
 
 MY LOVE. 
 
 I love to tell my love so well, 
 Because 1 love far more than vsrell ; 
 It can't be told, the love I hold. 
 From now until Fm gray and old. 
 
 I love with might and know it right 
 To love and feel love's fond delight. 
 I love the ease to bow my knees 
 And tell my love when no one sees. 
 
 I love to feel what hearts conceal, 
 For love is earth's sole joy and weal. 
 I love the bliss of love like this, 
 For no true love is found amiss. 
 
 I love with pride, and cannot hide 
 The love that will f ore'er abide. 
 My love will live and always give 
 A charm to glad the years I live. 
 
 The man with no preconceived harbor of pur- 
 pose is as useless to the needy millions of humanity, 
 as an aimless ship in mid-ocean, with sail spread, 
 subject to be driven to and fro by changeable 
 winds until wrecked on some unknown rocks. 
 Load your vessel with themerchandisable exports 
 from the peculiar products of your own individu- 
 ality, hoist the flag of honor, and sail for a defi- 
 nite port of entry to the needs of humanity. 
 
5« 
 IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 May fragrant roses of the mind, 
 
 Within you, find their native soil ; 
 May grace and gentleness be twined 
 
 Around you in a maiden foil. 
 May each recurring, blooming year, 
 
 A virtue lend to rich your heart ; 
 May every day, with duty done. 
 
 Declare you did a noble part. 
 
 ALABAMA. 
 
 I am waiting, only waiting. 
 
 Till this heavy year is o'er, 
 Then I'm bound for Alabama — 
 
 For the Heaven she holds in store. 
 Ah ! to meet my friends and loved ones/ 
 
 Whom I left so long ago. 
 Would renew a golden pleasure 
 
 Which the angels hardly know. 
 
 I am waiting, sadly waiting. 
 
 For the greetings fond and true 
 In my own dear Alabama 
 
 From the friends I always knew. 
 Parting gilds the chains of friendship 
 
 With a gold undimmed by Time, 
 And my soul's inborn sincerity 
 
 Makes the tie a bond divine. 
 
59 
 
 I am longing, vSweetly longing, 
 
 For the gladsome, happy springy 
 When to fond, dear Alabama, 
 
 My glad heart will take its wing. 
 Spring! the emblem of my feelings. 
 
 When that gracious time shall come — 
 When Vm happy and contented 
 
 In ray Alabama home. 
 
 I am waiting, gladly waiting, 
 
 Till from work and cares I'm free, 
 When the smiles of Alabama 
 
 Give the joy that's life to me. 
 No proud clime is kissed by Heaven^ 
 
 Like my fair, sweet native land : 
 Were I hunting earth's best garden, 
 
 I would find thy winsome strand. 
 
 There the flowers bloom serenely 
 In pure Nature's home retreat; 
 
 There sweet birds are joyous singings 
 Weary feelings to defeat ; 
 
 There each streamlet echoes, faintly,. 
 Wooings of the god of Love ; — 
 
 There a maiden land reposes, 
 
 Fairest 'neath the stars above ! 
 
 • 
 
 I am dreaming (happy dreaming!) 
 
 Of this haven of my heart ; 
 Thoughts of queenly Alabama, 
 
 Never from my dreams depart. 
 
6o 
 
 I am far from her, but love her 
 With a constancy unknown, 
 
 And think of her so proudly, 
 Thoughts of other lands have flown. 
 
 When the shades of evening hover 
 
 O'er thee, pious mother-land. 
 When thou kneelst in humble pleading 
 
 For the guidance of God^s hand. 
 Pray, invoke His gracious blessings 
 
 On thy wayward, wandering boy, 
 Till again within thy bosom. 
 
 He is safe from all annoy. 
 
 THE FATEFUL QUESTIONS. 
 
 Will you marry me and love me 
 
 With a constancy unknown ; 
 Will you live with me and bless me 
 
 With the thought that you're my own? 
 
 Will you sow within my bosom, 
 
 Seeds of gentleness and love; 
 Will you plant within my nature. 
 
 Nine sweet virtues from above? 
 
 Will you glad our home's fair garden 
 
 With the roses of the heart. 
 Will you stud the skies above it 
 
 With the stars bright minds impart? 
 
6i 
 
 Will yoti cheer my life and soothe it 
 With the sympathy of love, 
 
 Close it with a benediction, 
 Fit to welcome it above? 
 
 ONLY LULA. 
 
 Only Lula is my darling, 
 
 Whom ^tis Heav^Q to linger near; 
 Only hours are fond and fleeting, 
 
 When I'm calling her my dear! 
 
 Only words from her bring music, 
 Echoing long within my soul; 
 
 Only eyes like hers are gentle 
 With the azure they unroll. 
 
 Only forms like hers are graceful — 
 Eloquent with inning charms; 
 
 Only she disturbs discretion. 
 As love's magnet for my arms. 
 
 Only hair like hers is lovely, 
 Luxuriant with dreamy curls ; 
 
 Only hands like hers are fashioned 
 For the fairest, sweetest girls. 
 
 Only lips like hers are tempting, 
 Luscious with an apple hue ; 
 
 Only honeyed fees of parting. 
 Are the joys for which I sue. 
 
62 
 
 Only Lula is my darling, 
 
 Whom I love with all love's might ^ 
 Only Lula has attractions, 
 
 Drawing me to her each night. 
 
 ONLY WAITING. 
 
 I am waiting, only waiting. 
 
 Till the twilight hours appear, 
 When I'm happy as an angel 
 
 With my darling Lula near ; 
 Then the fleeting hourlets whisper 
 
 Of fair future's siren charm — 
 Of the soothing draughts of pleasure 
 
 When our life is arm in arm. 
 
 I am waiting (anxious waiting!) 
 
 Till the stillness of the night 
 Thrills my soul, to take me quickly 
 
 To my heart's enrobed delight. 
 Far more vied than kingly favor. 
 
 Is love's welcome in her eye; 
 Blessing me so much, I envy 
 
 Not a man below the sky. 
 
 I am waiting (fondly waiting ! 
 
 Till the evening vespers chime. 
 Then, the thrills of love reneweth 
 
 With her lily hand in mine. 
 
^3 
 
 Ah ! the joys that linger round me, 
 Wafting bliss so veiy near, 
 
 While my eyes drink in her sweetness 
 And my lips pronounce her dear ! 
 
 I am waiting, I am longing 
 
 For her promise to be true — 
 For the cheer of union-music 
 
 Till my life and hers are through ; 
 For the balm of love to soothe me 
 
 With the gentleness of peace, 
 For my love and hers to bless me, 
 
 Till my life and hers shall cease. 
 
 My heart is echoing responses to your oft-re- 
 peated promise of a Heaven-honored, blissful 
 time, when the melancholy strains of longing 
 and the plaintive tunes of hope will cease to be 
 marred by the discords of uncertainty, and will 
 join in a lovely harmony with the enchanting 
 songs of conjugal love, soothing music of the 
 hearths realization, and the enlivening anthem re- 
 frains of happiness ; when Joy and Peace 
 will never grow^ weary dancing to the music, and 
 Content will ever be entranced in admiration; 
 when all will blend into a glory -tuned song to 
 enrapture, continually, our envied home in Frui- 
 tion, until life's music shall cease and her harps 
 be unstrung. 
 
64 
 STANDING AT THE DOOR. 
 
 Fond bliss enstores a dainty treat, 
 
 Standing at the door ; 
 The kings ne'er had such joy complete,. 
 
 In the days of yore. 
 
 'Twould take the help of ages old, 
 
 With their endless lore. 
 To tell the love that's often told. 
 
 Standing at the door ! 
 
 But few have learned the magic power 
 
 When the day is o'er, 
 To put life's sweets in one short hour, 
 
 Standing at the door. 
 
 When clasped hands are feeling thrills. 
 
 Longed for evermore. 
 The heart-throbs tell what ecstasy wills» 
 
 Standing at the door. 
 
 There's other happenings sweeter far I 
 But can't tell you more, 
 
 For fear 'twill all my bliss debar. 
 Standing at the door. 
 
65 
 DO YOU LOVE ME ? 
 
 Do you love me darling, tell tne, 
 Does your heart respond to mine? 
 
 For I love you, darling, fondly, 
 With that feeling called divine ! 
 
 Do you love me, darling, tell me? 
 
 Let me feel life's only bliss ; 
 For I love you, darling, only. 
 
 And your love I cannot miss. 
 
 Though I feel it, let me know it. 
 Let your words bring ceaseless joy ; 
 
 Let them fall, like Heavenly manna, 
 To give life where donbts destroy. 
 
 Though your eyes flash welcome gleamings^ 
 From their sparkling depths of blue ; 
 
 Though I feel it, nearly know it, 
 That you love me fondly, too, 
 
 Still I crave the sweet assurance 
 
 And the music of the words, 
 Which alone can make me happy 
 
 With the gushing joy of birds ! 
 
66 
 SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 
 Carolina ! Carolina ! 
 
 There's a glory in thy name ; 
 Prom thy wisdom and thy valor 
 
 Thou hast won a deathless fame. 
 Dauntless heroes awed the Briti^ih, 
 
 In those history -making years, 
 IVhen young Freedom's banner floated 
 
 In a gloom of doubt and fears. 
 
 Honor to thy peerless Marion, 
 
 Sumter, Pickens, and thy Lee, 
 l^ho from dread despair won victory. 
 
 Gaining liberty for thee ; 
 Laurels for thy humble Jasper, 
 
 Who reset thy flag to wave 
 With a pride of daring courage 
 
 O'er the noblest of the brave! 
 
 Praises to the timely eff*orts 
 
 Of thy *^City by the Sea," 
 To give succor to our army 
 
 While it fought to make us free ; 
 'Twas when Northern ports had fallen 
 
 Prey to England's might and greed. 
 And the valiant North States trembled 
 
 When our army came to need. 
 
67 
 
 Great and many were thy statesmen 
 
 After Freedom came to stay, 
 And the mantles of their greatness 
 
 Have been worn till our own day. 
 Great Calhoun still towers grandly 
 
 In the trio of our pride ; 
 Robert Hayne, the South's debater, 
 
 Won allegiance to our side. 
 
 History culls from South Carolina 
 
 Priceless legacies (so rare). 
 Of unparalleled devotion 
 
 By her daughters, brave as fair; 
 Emily— -embodiment of valor — 
 
 In a maiden^s queenly grace, 
 Won from loyal hearts the tribute : 
 
 '^Bravest, sweetest of our race!'' 
 
 And fair Dicey, for her frequent daring, 
 
 Shared the glory of applause; 
 Mrs. Dillard saved an army — 
 
 Angel to young Freedom's cause! 
 
 And true patriotism renders 
 Mrs. Mott a cherished fame; 
 Hundreds more deserve a mention, 
 
 As the builders of a name. 
 
 Mexico w^ill speak in praises, 
 Such as conquered tongues proclaim, 
 
 Of Palmetto's vict'rious regiment, 
 Which has been consigned to fame. 
 
68 
 
 In our recent bloody struggle 
 South Carolina was the first 
 
 To secede, and first the thunder 
 Of the w^ar upon her burst. 
 
 Still, as years roll in the future, 
 
 Noble sons and daughters rise, 
 Worthy of our favored country — 
 
 Fairest ^neath the bending skies. 
 Emulate your sires, conspicuous 
 
 For their virtues and their might ; 
 Gild your names on deeds illustrious, 
 
 For your Southland and for right. 
 
 Back in the dear dead years of Southern glory, 
 when the balmy breezes of our fragrant South- 
 land bore to a friendly world the sweet aroma of 
 virtuous lives and deeds, which bloomed in peren- 
 nial spring-exuberance beneath our favoring skies, 
 Heaven, so proud of our garden land, gave to her 
 Henry Timrod, a sweet singer, w^ith a gentle voice 
 of pathos and tenderness, to sing of her beauty 
 and glory, to trace the matchless symmetry of her 
 bending skies, and to pipe eulogiums of praise to 
 her noble sons and fair daughters. 
 
69 
 
 FALSE. 
 
 False! the sobbing winds bemoan it. 
 
 As the grief of all my years ; 
 Whispering breezes long have borne it, 
 
 Like a prescience born of fear. 
 
 False ! the constant stars are twinkling, 
 Stars, they only heard our plight. 
 
 Feverish tears, the thought is sprinkling 
 O'er dead love's forsaken night. 
 
 False! no thought was fond or fragrant, 
 Till it bowed beneath the throne 
 
 Sacred to those eyes so radiant, 
 There to worship thee alone. 
 
 False! no work was sweet or pleasant, 
 But that done to give thee joy ; 
 
 Love made me an humble peasant, — 
 Happy as thy errand boy. 
 
 False! no dreams had peace without thee 
 Queen of every phantom part — 
 
 'Twas mirage so turned about thee 
 From thy image in my heart. 
 
 Go, false joy and hope, forever, 
 
 Still I'll never bow to thee. 
 Though 'twould turn the tides that sever; 
 
 To God alone, I bend my knee. 
 
70 
 
 I haYe manhood still unshaken 
 
 And a courage born of pride 
 Which can ne'er be overtaken 
 
 By the eyes and lips that lied. 
 
 I am glad 'twas you proved faithless 
 
 To the feeling oft exprest ; 
 For if 1 had proven faithless, 
 
 'Twould have robbed my life of rest. 
 
 To betray a queenly maiden 
 
 In the trust of constant love, 
 To forsake a heart enladen 
 
 With the virtues from above. 
 
 To prove false to worded passion. 
 Caught from flames that burn the heart,- 
 
 Chill Remorse would lose compassion ; 
 Conscience thrust its piercing dart. 
 
 So farewell, and if forever, 
 
 May the will of Fate prove best. 
 
 And perchance the years that sever 
 May bring each a love more blest. 
 
71 
 
 NATURE'S MODEL POEM. 
 
 Nature has one model poem 
 Wrote to woo the poet's heart — 
 
 Wrote to wean him from the faulty^ 
 Soulless verse of studied art. 
 
 Twenty years of gushing springtime^ 
 Nature's buddings of the mind 
 
 Were implanted in this poem 
 To enrich it o'er its kind. 
 
 Twenty summers filled with sweetness^ 
 Nature sipped life's nectar — ^love, 
 
 For the passion of this poem, 
 Thrilled by touch of Muses' glove. 
 
 Twenty autumns, tinged with saffron^ 
 
 Nature harvested the gold 
 Of rich thought and deep emotion. 
 
 For this poem of his mould. 
 
 Twenty winters, angel feathers 
 Fell to whiten earth impure ; 
 
 Nature gathered all their virtues, 
 That his poem would be pure. 
 
 Twenty years of fairy beauty, 
 Nature chose a grace unseen 
 
 For a measure and a rh3'thm, 
 Faultless as a flowing stream. 
 
72 
 
 Now the work of years is finished, 
 Built upon a breath divine — 
 
 Masterpiece of Nature's genius, 
 Graced with music and with rhyme. 
 
 And the title of this poem 
 Shows an Idyl from above; 
 
 'Tis the spirit of the poem 
 Felt by all, as *^MADE TO LOVE/' 
 
 Nature, modest as a maiden, 
 Rich in worth, un wooed by fame, 
 
 Hides this charming master-poem 
 From immortelles of name. 
 
 Only friends and cherished loved ones 
 Read his work of hidden art : 
 
 And I, favored of the favored, 
 Will it all my pride and heart. 
 
 This sweet poem is a maiden 
 Whom a Raphael might defy 
 
 To portray the hidden beauty 
 Of her soul and gentle eye. ^ 
 
 And the poets and the painters 
 Of the present and the past, 
 
 Ne'er^have had a queenlier model 
 To inspire a perfect task. 
 
73 
 
 She has given my soul its music, 
 And my thoughts their gentle rhyme ; 
 
 She has made my heart a poet, 
 With emotions all sublime ! 
 
 And I'll sing of her, the Lovely, 
 Till the coming years shall pine 
 
 For one look at her rare beauty — 
 This fair maiden-Love of mine. 
 
 And the world of song shall know her,. 
 
 Through the tribute of my rhyme, 
 As the fairest sweetest maiden 
 
 Who has trod the shores of Time. 
 
 ALABAMA, 
 
 Though thy present's brown and sear, 
 Silvery d awnings linger near ; 
 For thy fame is everyrwhere, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 Westward empires wind their w^ay, 
 Following sunset's golden ray- 
 Now has come thy bridal day, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 Thou art past thy trying days. 
 Dark with shameful mist and haze, 
 And a future charms thy gaze, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
74 
 
 Springtime comes with budding trees, 
 Fragrance floats on every breeze — 
 Progress brings thee days Uke these, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 There is treasure in thy hills, 
 Money in thy coming mills, 
 Lavished wealth fond Heaven wills 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 Harvests rich bring forth rare spoil 
 From the pleasant faithful toil 
 On thy varied, fertile soil, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 There's a murmur in thy streams. 
 Sweet as music in our dreams, 
 And love's paradise it seems — 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 Flowers glad thy dreamy dells, 
 Still a sweeter beauty dwells 
 In thy bonnie, blooming belles, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 And thy sons by merit rise, 
 To the sphere where honor lies ; 
 There they pride thy doting eyes, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
75 
 
 Tis Elysium of the West, 
 
 Said by Greeks, the land most blest, 
 
 Where the mighty heroes rest, 
 
 Alabama. 
 
 If a land be Heaven's pride. 
 Where its beauties e'er abide — 
 'Tis our State — 'tis not denied, 
 
 Alabama, 
 
 SICKENING WHEN YOU'RE NOT ^^IN IT. 
 
 Did you ever see two lovers 
 
 Strolling through the soft moonlight, 
 When they had the sweet assurance 
 
 That no others were in sight? — 
 
 Hand in hand, they whisper softly 
 
 More than Cupid ever heard ; 
 Then they squeeze each hand the tighter 
 
 After every loving word. 
 
 On they walk with tortoise slowness, 
 Feeling thrilled with earthly bliss ; 
 
 And monotony, to vary, 
 Oft they stop, caress, and kiss. 
 
76 
 
 He forgets and leaves around her 
 His left arm, though on the3^ go, 
 
 Caring not to lose such pleasure, 
 As the neighbors will not know. 
 
 Fear intrudes his cruel presence — 
 Every sound disturbs her wits, 
 
 Forcing way his arm so quickly 
 From the waist it warmly fits. 
 
 Every eve they wish it over, 
 
 Just as hitherto defined; 
 ^^Cuss^' they will, but can't express it. 
 
 When a couple's close behind. 
 
 TO S. F. M. 
 
 You wear a sunny, blushing smile. 
 Shown through a merry laughing wile. 
 That wakes the feelings of my heart 
 And longing thoughts of love impart. 
 
 Your large, soft, tender, radiant eyes 
 Are beaming through my wistful sighs : 
 They hold a depth of azure blue — 
 A fairy heaven, for some man's due! 
 
 Your wavy wealth of flaxen hair 
 Enshrines a charming beauty rare; 
 Your sandy, silken, circling curls 
 Enthrone you queen of lovely girls. 
 
77 
 
 Your full, soft, pearly, glowing face 
 Is fashioned with a nameless grace; 
 Your form is all the Grecian mould, 
 Improved upon the type of old. 
 
 My tribute will not be complete. 
 Unless I falter at your feet. 
 And to your modest ears make known 
 The height to which my love has grown 
 
 I offer you a faithful heart — 
 It's wounded now by Cuj)id's dart. 
 I'll vow my love forever true. 
 If constanc^^ remain in you. 
 
 But you're so gentle, fair, and sweet. 
 To be your mate I feel unmeet ; 
 But if my heart you don't refuse, 
 I'll give you love and honor's dues. 
 
 THE FLIRT'S POLICY. 
 
 I'll vum ! the luck is ^dogged' bad — 
 A score of sw^eethearts Christmas times; 
 
 I'll own I look a ^kinder' sad 
 To think how they will take the dimes. 
 
 I've tried to fuss and break the ^^case" 
 With ever^^ one of them you see ; 
 
 But each one holds me to the race. 
 And says ''you can't lose me, Charlie." 
 
7S 
 
 They call me sweet and '^hoo doo^' names 
 When present giving times are near, — 
 
 They know the cards in all the games. 
 And throw my ^^ pockets out of gear/' 
 
 VIVIAN'S EYES, 
 
 There are glories that gleam like an angel's dream, 
 
 From the radiant sunset skies ; 
 There are splendors that stream from the morning 
 beam, 
 
 When the bride of the day doth rise; 
 But they in their pride have never defied 
 
 The beauty of Vivian s eyes. 
 
 The lustrous stars, with their golden bars — 
 
 The diamond gems of the skies, 
 Whose sparkles so bright enrapture the night 
 
 With a glory that nevermore dies, 
 Are scarcely as bright as the radiant light 
 
 That twinkles in Vivian'' s eyes. 
 
 The lily of the vale has a sweet little tale, 
 That the nymphs and the fairies prize; — 
 
 An angel willed that her smile be instilled, 
 And now in the lily it lies ; 
 
 But the sweet lily fair can never compare 
 With the sweetness of Vivian'' s eyes. 
 
79 
 
 The tenderness shown in the Southern dome, — 
 In the mild, sweet snmmerland skies, 
 
 Like the smiles of love from the Saviour above, 
 Are as gen tie as a maiden's sighs ; 
 
 But their tenderest place has never a trace 
 Of the tenderness of Vivian* s eyes. 
 
 They are windows divine to Virtue's shrine— 
 
 The purest below the skies ; 
 More tender and true than the ages knew 
 
 In their queens of the heart and its ties ; — 
 So pardon my sighs and frequent cries 
 
 For a gaze at Vivian's eyes. 
 
 PARTING THROBS 
 
 The night bewails the sadness 
 
 That we must part ; 
 The morning brings no gladness 
 
 To cheer our heart ! 
 
 The winds are softly blowing 
 
 Their sad refrain, 
 But none on earth are knowing 
 
 Our cureless pain ! 
 
 The starlets twinkle sadly 
 
 Their pity -cry ; 
 My heart beats— oh ! so madly— 
 
 To say good-bye ! 
 
8o 
 
 YouMl wait in vain my coming, 
 
 Each silent eve ; 
 And with the night wind's humming, 
 
 You'll sit and grieve I 
 
 And w^hile love songs you're singing — 
 
 Those songs we sang, 
 From every word, upspringing. 
 
 Will dart a pang I 
 
 Dear Love, we know the anguish 
 
 Of burning tears; 
 And oh ! we'll have to languish 
 
 For gloomy years ! 
 
 Our eyes will tell the story. 
 
 In accents sad. 
 Of love's departed glory 
 
 And Heaven we had ! 
 
 The bloom of life will wither,— 
 
 The bloom joys give. 
 And oft we'll wonder whether 
 
 'Tis best to live. 
 
 O God of Love and Heaven ! 
 
 Is there no balm 
 That parted souls are given 
 
 To bring life's calm ? 
 
8i 
 
 THE OLD REVELATION. 
 
 I love a maiden ; if twill please 
 
 Your heart, 111 say ^^I love Louise.'' 
 
 If not, I'll heave a wistful sigh 
 
 And, longing, glance at your soft eye. 
 
 Then look toward Heaven, and sadly pray 
 
 To meet a loved one some sweet day. 
 
 Yet if your heart and eyes respond 
 To all my feelings warm and fond, 
 Like tendrils of the leaning vine, 
 My love v^ould round you firmly twine ; 
 And in its fond and gentle grace 
 Would live and die, in your embrace. 
 
 LET ME TRY. 
 
 Ambition bids my soul arise 
 And soar to heights beyond these skies ; 
 A hell 'twould be, to crawl and die 
 Upon the earth ! oh, let me try ! 
 
 And Duty makes me e'er believe 
 Tis noble only to achieve. 
 Attempting brings a blessing nigh 
 To soothe the hearts of those who try. 
 
82 
 
 And if a storm dissolve in air 
 Our every prospect, sweet and fair, 
 There^s peace that fate cannot deny 
 To bless the unknown souls who try. 
 
 If others soar the topmost height, 
 And weVe not wings for lofty flight; 
 Let's climb the summit ere we die 
 And learn God blesses those who try. 
 
 If work refund no ample store — 
 A happy conscience wills us more, 
 And Heaven gives what earth denies, 
 For God rewards each one who tries ! 
 
 If marble shaft do not proclaim : — 
 ^^He lives immortal here with Fame.'' 
 This worthy tribute's not denied 
 To anv humble soul : — ^^He tried !" 
 
 EVENING'S FOND RETREAT. 
 
 When the evening brings the shadows 
 
 With a quietness to calm ; 
 Day just fled with all its labor. 
 
 Love suggests a soothing balm — 
 How to spend the wintry evening 
 
 Pleasantly as kings would please, 
 Only down the street to wander 
 
 To the home of sweet Louise. 
 
83 
 
 There the hours in fleetness vanish, 
 
 Breathing o'er me fond delight, 
 While I gaze upon her sweetness — 
 
 Charmed to stay within her sight 
 Ah ! such moments are so happy. 
 
 Cheering me with peaceful ease ; 
 Thankful for the precious blessing, 
 
 Just to see and love Louise. 
 
 Oft I plead with her to love me 
 
 As a sweetheart fond and true ; 
 But a ^^no'^ rewards my pleading 
 
 With a chill and heartache too. 
 Still she asks me ^^not to leave her, 
 
 Looking for another, please ;'' 
 And to show her all my kindness, 
 
 I remain with sweet Louise. 
 
 Yet I'd go and cease to love her. 
 
 Leaving with a wnstful sigh. 
 But I plainly can discover 
 
 Hope — a kindness in her eye, 
 And a welcome in her features ; 
 
 So again, when no one sees, 
 I renew my earnest pleading 
 
 For the love of sweet Louise. 
 
 Blessed are the hours of twilight, 
 Happy are the hearts they blend ; 
 
 Joyous are the hours of wooing. 
 Sweet the blissful peace they send. 
 
84 
 
 Ever welcome hour of evening, 
 Soothing is th j quiet breeze ; 
 
 Then I^m happy and contented 
 With my bonnie, sweet Louise 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 The pilgrim, fleeing from the land of sin, 
 When worn with travel, sick of burning sun. 
 Kneels gladly in the calm when day is done, 
 And lifts his eyes, in prayer, to Heaven's glen 
 Where twinkle stars of hope and peace for him ; 
 Just so, I haste from out the cheerless throng. 
 Who have no love to sweetly glad life's song, 
 And loathing care's annoying weary din 
 I bow in twilight's calm before your feet ; 
 And look with prayer into those ans^wering skies 
 Which lie empearled within your sparkling eyes, 
 Where thoughts of love, like twinkling starlets, 
 
 shine, 
 And promise ^^Heaven to me when you are mine;" 
 Come soothe my life, fond Love's long sought 
 retreat ! 
 
PART II. 
 
 A LIVING HRROINE. 
 
 DEDICATED TO THE W. C. T. U. AND I. O. G. T. 
 
 I. 
 
 I have a sad tale that fain I'd tell : 
 
 'Tis fraught with a wish that long t'will well 
 
 Encourage the vows that conquer crime. 
 In years that have gone I used to meet 
 A maiden of youth's fond smiles and sweet, 
 
 Though passed she the years of youthful prime, 
 
 Oh, bright were her eyes with virtue's grace ! 
 And beauty had kissed her rosy face, 
 
 Then quietty losing it's glow ; 
 How could it e'er fade from nature's shrine, 
 Ah, would it e'er be embalmed as mine! 
 
 Was ever my prayer to know. 
 
 The Hght of Christ's love had blest her days. 
 Which charmed me so with her winning ways ; 
 
 House cares she would never shirk ; 
 A thrifty wife is a husband's pride, 
 Her happy smiles on every side, 
 
 Are mirrored in her work. 
 
86 
 
 So lovely and sweet the songs we sang, 
 In unison our voices then rang 
 
 The music of God and love. 
 Such charms had those songs for her and me, 
 It seemed that our hearts would melted be, 
 
 To join, like the souls above. 
 
 My heart then gave life to words of love. 
 Expecting such back like coos of dove. 
 
 Alas ! I heard no reply. 
 It seemed that she liked me more than all, 
 And always looked pleased when I would call — 
 
 But could not she love me, why? 
 
 A mystery ^s there that caused me woe; 
 I prayed her to tell. I longed to know 
 
 Just why she couldn^t love me then. 
 In secret she told her story sad, 
 While down o'er her cheeks flowed tears as mad 
 
 With sighs that ^*It might have been.'' 
 
 II. 
 
 ^^It's not the old tale of love untrue; 
 For he was the truest one I knew, 
 
 Or ever expect to know. 
 Oh * John was so gentle, mild, and kind— 
 So lovely was he, in heart and mind, 
 
 My love toward him did grow. 
 
87 
 
 *^ Quite often he came to bring a smile, 
 
 Which caused one returned, from me, the while 
 
 Though short, that he spent with me ; 
 For surely it seemed, mad time would fly. 
 Then ever so rashly, swiftly by, 
 
 That ten came at eight, to be. 
 
 *^The days and the months stole fast away; 
 My heart with its love grew bright as May 
 
 When woods are so green with life. 
 Oh I that I could see more days as bright— 
 Oh ! that I could dream more dreams at night 
 
 So free, like those days, from strife. 
 
 '^Full many a day of azure blue, 
 We sailed on the river, just us two ; 
 
 So smooth were the flow and glide, 
 It seemed that the coming days would flow 
 As calm through the years of life below, 
 
 If he would e^er be my guide. 
 
 ^'Just like the mild flow of the waters one. 
 Our hearts seemed to join, to run 
 
 In unison evermore. 
 True hearts which are bound by nature's will. 
 Will meet like the rills from sides of hill. 
 
 No matter what might ignore. 
 
88 
 
 *'My cup for lifetime seemed blest with love. 
 Ah ! sweet were its sips like those above — 
 
 The drink of the angels bright. 
 This life would a desert be, and cold, 
 Without in each heart, true love, to hold 
 
 Poor way-faring man a light. 
 
 ^'He said I was e'er his guiding star, 
 And hope's fairest prize, then near or far, 
 
 Which long he had wished to gain. 
 He said that his days were bright and fair. 
 While trying to win a heart so rare. 
 
 Like snow, which is free from stain. 
 
 *^And just then he said ^will you be mine, 
 And take me, dear one, to e'er be thine. 
 
 As long as our hearts shall live? 
 Oh ! be my loved rose to sweeten my life. 
 Enticing me home from sin and strife. 
 
 To bask in the smiles 3'ou give.' 
 
 ^^ *How could you say more, my dear, my own! 
 This moment has made my heart full grown, 
 
 Embalmed in a cup of bliss ! 
 Of course, dearest John, our souls are one. 
 Ordained to be so when God begun 
 
 To form a sweet world like this !' 
 
89 
 
 III. 
 
 ^^Remembered, that hour and always will, 
 That witnessed these words for Fate to kill 
 
 Their hopes ; for it soon did rend 
 Sweet music, from heart both tuned to play 
 The songs of true love, mid smiles of May. 
 
 Alas ! for those songs ao;ain. 
 
 ^^At night, when I knelt in secret prayer, 
 Quite often I longed to ask God spare 
 
 My John from all trials sore. 
 Oh, sad ! but I never asked Him to — 
 Unnumbered the woes it^s brought me through. 
 
 Repenting it evermore ! 
 
 ^*I thought he would shun the Tempter's snare— 
 Ah ! sin could ne'er stain a soul so rare. 
 
 Nor ruin a true heart so pure ! 
 But frost ever seeks the sweetest flowers, 
 And woodmen e'er hunt the fairest bowers — 
 
 How can earthly bloom endure? 
 
 *^The evil Seducer set a snare. 
 
 On which he had hoped to mildly bear 
 
 My John to that place of doom. 
 The flowers that bud most tender here. 
 Are culled by his hand, which plucks them where 
 
 They smile, with their sweetest bloom. 
 
90 
 
 *^Yoti see we had built a castle grand. 
 Alas ! for its base ^was earthly sand, 
 
 Which crumbles, and madly falls 
 Headlong into Misery's ocean doom. 
 And drowns Expectation's hopeful bloom ; 
 
 Ne'er to deck more castle walls ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 *^The hours seemed to hunt that sweet May day, 
 The birds were to sing our wedding lay — 
 
 Uniting our lives for time. 
 Then Happiness, flower of earth's fair dell. 
 Was growing in loveliness, to tell. 
 
 Our hearts would make perfect rhyme. 
 
 ^*The night just before our wedding day. 
 Midnight's lonely tongue had held its sway. 
 
 Before I could find sweet sleep. 
 Then dreamed I saw buried a drunken soul, 
 But Virtue and name he'd buried in bowl 
 
 And covered with years so deep ! 
 
 *^ Another — once fair — now thin and pale! 
 What bruised, care-worn face, tear-furrowed, 
 frail ! 
 
 Great scars on her face and arm ! 
 Her eyes ! what a book of woes reveal ! 
 Dead hopes had their graves where looks conceal 
 
 Not much of their faded charm. 
 
91 
 
 **This mother, his wife, alone could ci>, 
 From others no tears, not yet a sigh 
 
 For rum-ruined man so vile. 
 Small children in rags there cried for bread ; 
 But one, nearly grown, by father led. 
 
 Was drunk as a fool the while. 
 
 ^^One bright little girl, in accents sweety 
 
 Then said: ^Oh, don^t cry, mamma. Pa beat 
 
 You so every time he drinks ^ 
 He^s mean ; let him die and go away 
 Where whisky men go and have to stay. 
 
 He never loved us, I thinks. ^ 
 
 ^ ^But still the grieved mother sobbed and mourned. 
 She thought of the trials, troubles borne I 
 
 Her son, now her only stay, 
 Was wrecked by his sire, who sealed a doom 
 Upon the young boy, just in life's bloom; 
 
 For plucked is the bud to-day ! 
 
 ^^I saw the sad wife and mother leave 
 
 The drunkard's lone grave. Who could but grieve ! 
 
 A sermon of truth and woe 
 Was preached in the tread of shoeless feet. 
 That w^ent to a home that once was neat — 
 
 Now owned by rumseller, though!" 
 
92 
 
 V. 
 
 *^1 woke and my eyes were wet with tears. 
 What could all this mean, my dream and fears? 
 
 My wondering ceased in sleep. 
 Another dread vision filled with fear ! 
 A gallows and hundreds standing near, 
 
 All eyes were about to weep. 
 
 **My God ! the same mother as before, 
 And children round her, an bleeding sore, 
 
 Their hearts were still full of woe • 
 A sheriff then led a boy, eighteen. 
 Around to the scaffold, — horrid scene! 
 
 Alas ! 'twas the boy I know, 
 
 ^^Who went to his father^s grave so drunk. 
 He stood in the face of death, but shrunk 
 
 At first, as he saw his fate. 
 Then said he in lone and dread despair : 
 *I have but a farewell breath to share, 
 
 And Hope it will be too late. 
 
 '' * 'Tis rum that has brought me here to die; 
 Next moment will be ray last cold sigh. 
 
 I'll go Hke a flash to hell 
 And meet my doomed father who gave me 
 The first cursed drink ! Oh ! friends you see 
 
 That rum will our souls soon sell !' 
 
93 
 
 4i 
 
 So ended his fate. His mother wild, 
 Was carried to the poorhouse. Every child 
 
 Was bound to some friends for life. 
 The mother heart-broken, sad and lone, 
 Soon died of her grief, with none to moan 
 
 Her death, as she passed from strife. 
 
 ^^Her face was quite like some old true friend, 
 Just so the drunken man^s, but thoughts would 
 tend 
 
 Back to the young boy just hung. 
 What crime had he done to bring such doom? 
 I asked one to tell what plucked the bloom 
 
 That from life's sweet stem was wrung? 
 
 ^^He said that the boy had won a heart — 
 A good, fair young girl promised to part 
 
 From under paternal care. 
 Her father and mother wouldn't consent. 
 The boy, in a rage, when drunk, then rent 
 
 Life's chords, from her parents rare!" 
 
 VI 
 
 This horrible sin and crime so great — 
 The strain of excitement made her wake 
 
 To a fearful silent gloom ! 
 ^^This awful sad dream ! what can it be? 
 O Fate ! is it life's gall cup for me? 
 
 Must I bear an earthly doom?" 
 
94 
 
 O'er her cheekvS, rolled glad and saddening tears^ 
 In her mind rose hopes accompanied with fears ; 
 
 Soon a light began to steal 
 Through the room ; she thought it hailed anxious 
 
 Day, 
 So she opened a door for Morning's glad ray, 
 
 Her dread loneliness to heal. 
 
 But Egyptian darkness of gloomy, weird night, 
 Was the greeting received by her awe-stricken 
 sight ! 
 Fiery fiends and wild ghosts filled the air I 
 Lo ! among them she saw drunken crews of 
 
 gambling men. 
 Some were young, but all darkened with vice 
 and with sin. 
 But the sight was too horrid to bear! 
 
 So trembling, ghostly pale, quickly bolted she 
 
 the door. 
 With a painful lone feeling that never before 
 
 Had thrilled her with such vague unknown woe. 
 Then suddenly she thought of the mystical light, 
 That had kept the whole room still so won- 
 drously bright. 
 And the thoughts made her restlessness go. 
 
 Not knowing what to do, to send thoughts far 
 
 away. 
 She began then to play a new temperance lay. 
 And so feelingly, softly to sing. 
 
95 
 
 She was thinking of times when her lover was 
 
 there, 
 When she^d sung the same song — not noting the 
 
 wild glare 
 Of his eyes, while the music would ring: — 
 
 Song. 
 
 If ever you are straying 
 
 Around a saloon ; 
 You needn't come praying 
 
 To walk with me soon. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The man that drinks liquor , 
 Will never be mine ; 
 
 The wife of such tricker, 
 Will sadly repine. 
 
 If ever you're gambling 
 Or playing at night, 
 
 You'll ne\er be rambling 
 With me in moonlight. 
 
 If ever you 're cursing 
 Where people can hear. 
 
 You'll never be nursing 
 Your pet ^Mittle dear." 
 
96 
 
 Go on with your drinking, 
 
 And revel in wine; 
 But still youVe not thinking 
 
 You'll ever be mine. 
 
 Oh ! yes, you will leave it, 
 
 And quickly reform ; 
 But the woman will grieve it 
 
 Who enters the storm. 
 
 So you needn't be drinking, 
 
 Nor duding it through. 
 If ever you're thinking 
 
 My heart you will woo. 
 
 It was sung in sincerity and truth's feeling tone, 
 And determination of the strongest she'd known, 
 
 Made her kneel for a sacred life vow : 
 *^I will never, O God, place my life on hell's 
 
 brinks. 
 Just to marry a man who continually drinks — 
 
 'Tis my honor's own pledge to Thee now!" 
 
 Her blue eyes were sparkling, and the light re- 
 mained. 
 While a silent, sweet stillness over all things 
 reigned, 
 With a charm like the sirens have won; 
 Then a voice far sweeter than earth's mortals 
 
 had known. 
 And a lily-white hand was caressing her own, 
 As an angel maid said *^0h, well done; 
 
97 
 
 **I have come to warn you, sweet maiden, good 
 
 and true. 
 This sad vision yon Ve seen is the future for you, 
 
 If you marry the one whom you love ; 
 For he drinks, and your joys he will ever ensnare, 
 Be not grieved, for hereafter you'll bloom over 
 there. 
 In the home of the happy Above.'' 
 
 What would we do were itnot for angels bright — 
 Some guardian loved one from the blue, 
 
 To warn us all of foes that come at night — 
 The dangers which we never kne^sv. 
 
 Oh, blessed thought ! fair ministering angel bands 
 
 Will leave their glory -home to guard these lands 
 Till darkest trials are through ! 
 
 Before those sad, heart-rending ^vords were said 
 
 Pale Lillie fell back on the floor. 
 The light went out and darkness came instead — 
 
 A gloom for many days in store, 
 Came o'er her when the angel left her sight. 
 She moaned and wrung her hands and cried out- 
 right, 
 
 *^0 God ! Oh, let me live no more ! 
 
 ^^Oh, take me home! my guardian angel, fair! 
 
 Oh, bliss ! if I could only die ! 
 M^^ God ! this cup is more than I can bear ! 
 
 O John ! my John ! why do I cry? 
 
98 
 
 Ten thousand curses on the demon drink ! 
 I'd shoot the A?\rretch who led to ruin's brink 
 My noble John ! Sweet death come nigh ! 
 
 ^*My dream I a drunkard's wife ! what woes a wait 
 A miserable, mean drunkard's cursed wife! 
 
 My vow ! — I'll never be a drunkard's mate! 
 Lord, no ! I'll live a lonely life, 
 
 Without my John — without a hope instead, 
 
 And lose my love, my joy, and beg for bread, 
 Before I'll bear a drunkard's strife! 
 
 **My happy days of love and peaceful joy — 
 They're gone! they're dead ! to live no more! 
 
 And I, sad fate! am bound to grief's annoy — 
 No peace can future hold in store. 
 
 Sad woman's fate! thus chained to face her 
 doom. 
 
 While man may roam the v^orld to find its bloom, 
 And shun the scene of living gore. 
 
 **0 woman ! curse this hell-made liquor, vile; 
 
 For since the fall of mother Eve, 
 The bowl has nursed the serpent's tempting guile, 
 
 Our doting loved ones to deceive. 
 I hate! despise! abhor! this Satan snare. 
 That kills the peace which comes to woman's 
 
 share. 
 And makes her live to mourn and grieve ! 
 
99 
 
 **0 woman ! come, let's arm ourselves to fight 
 This heartless foe that dooms our way. 
 
 Maybe, some gallant men will lend their might, 
 And make their votes and speeches sway. 
 
 Our fall will fill the land with ceaseless woe; 
 
 Our gain will bring prosperity's overflow. 
 Let's work and fight and hope and pray. " 
 
 Her anguishedheart, with ghostly fears o'ercast^ 
 
 Of scarry, frightful, ugly mein, 
 Then brought a lulling spell of fainting fast. 
 
 A fever soon disturbed her brain. 
 Sweet fancy, still submissive to desire. 
 Soon fills her mind with quiet love -lit fire — 
 
 She lives some happy hours again. 
 
 The evening rays are smiling through their gold, 
 
 The cloudless sky is azure still. 
 The lovely flowers, sweet petals unfold, 
 
 The waters murmur in. the rill. 
 The birds playing, chirping, sweet and low, 
 And breezes gently from the westw^ard blow, 
 
 As they walk slowly down the hill. 
 
 Her John puts cedar twigs around her hair. 
 
 Among her nightly raven curls, 
 *^I live for you — 'tis all I ask to share 
 
 Your life, oh loveliest one of girls." 
 She plucks the ivy w^hite and crimson red, 
 To shade his heart when he so sweetly said : 
 
 ^^You are most precious of the pearls." 
 
lOO 
 
 They Ve wandered to the clear, cool river now, 
 
 And watch the many fishes swim. 
 The weeping willow bends her drooping bow 
 
 Around the lovers graced and true. 
 Their hearts, too full to speak, their lips now 
 
 meet, 
 In kisses loving, fond, and heavenly sweet, — 
 
 So fond, a queen v^ould envy them ! 
 
 Soon the tender full voice of Lillie rose in song, 
 So sweet, angels would listen to hear. 
 
 Her lover imagined 'twas a siren love-throng 
 That were singing to charm him more near : 
 
 Song. 
 
 Will the bright glowing rays of the morning 
 Fill our souls w4th the heart's wedding lay? 
 
 Will Hymen's bridal sweetness be adorning 
 All our da3^s with the beauty of May? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Where the roses of love, sweetly tender. 
 
 Are budding to bloom angel-fair. 
 And the joy-bells of song ever render 
 
 A bliss, for our hearts' happy share. 
 
 Will the downy, soft wings of Favor, 
 E'er hover o'er the paths that we roam? 
 
 Will the blessings of our dear Savior, 
 Be showered in the future's sweet home? 
 
lOI 
 
 In the solemn, delightful silence, a clear tone, 
 Sweetly filled with its echo, her hearths torrid 
 zone — 
 Twas a song from her lover so dear : — 
 
 Song, 
 
 We will live in the happy, fond Aidenn, 
 
 In a home, which your smiles will adorn ; 
 And the music of love will be laden 
 With the life cheering rays of the morn. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Let your head on my heart be lying, 
 And your eyes looking kindly in mine ; 
 
 While I kiss away tears, which are tenderly 
 drying 
 On your cheeks, as you lovingly recline. 
 
 Yes, my Love, Lillie fair, sweet To-morrow, 
 Will unite our true hearts evermore ; 
 
 And the smiles of kind Fortune will borrow 
 All the joy that this life has in store. 
 
 If lovers' dreams had their fruition, 
 Aspiring hopes, their peaceful Aidenn ; 
 
 Our hearts would feel no deep contrition, 
 Our homes would have no pining maiden. 
 
102 
 
 If love could keep it's secret heaven, 
 
 And lips could hold a loving kiss ; 
 We'd need no future to be given, 
 
 This earth would be a home of bliss. 
 
 And could our minds the mystic future scan, 
 
 And see our troubles held in store, 
 We'd all give o'er and ne'er the courage man 
 
 To climb the Alpine steep before. 
 If only could we in life's morn begin 
 Our journey wath mistakes reversed again, 
 
 We'd sail a calmer day to shore 
 
 The lovers still are sharing fancy's dream, — 
 A boat sails down the rapid flowing stream 
 
 And lands close by the lovers' side, 
 The name of boat. Whisky, bright letters gleam 
 ^^BouND FOR Destruction — Pleasure Ride ;" 
 A rough, strong wretch, with mocking, angry 
 
 lip. 
 Then grasped her darling John, with firmest grip, 
 
 And bore him off on rolling tide. 
 
 A shriek, more loud and wild than maiden tongue, 
 In all past woes, had ever thrilled the air and 
 wrung 
 
 The sleeping ears till all awoke. 
 Was heard, in rending tones, from Lillie's room. 
 Her parents and her sisters were there soon, 
 
 To see what danger it bespoke. 
 
103 
 
 Fair blooming Lillie, eldest one of eight, 
 
 To their surprise and trembling horror great, 
 
 Was found there fainted on the floor ! . 
 Their joys, their hopes, from Fancy's happy 
 
 height, 
 Then fell, so lightning fast, to gloom of night ! — 
 
 In joy and grief weVe equal store. 
 
 O world of change ! O hopes and dreams of bliss ! 
 O fallen peace ! O troubling love like this ! — 
 
 So happy sweet and flowery fair. 
 That heaven it holds in every trusting heart — 
 Yet full of pain and woe, all share a part 
 
 Of hell, in what they have to bear ! 
 
 Were none of earth, though, found to be unkind — 
 Were all of pure and virtue-loving mind. 
 
 Who deign to love in times like this — 
 Were whisky sent forever from our land. 
 We'd have young men, more noble, true and 
 grand, 
 
 And love would keep its secret bliss. 
 
 VII, 
 
 With all my skill, my pen cannot portray 
 
 The gloom and grief that hovered night and day, 
 
 For long, sad weeks round Lillie's form. 
 As fever tossed her restless, aching brain ; 
 Unconscious, though, of all her piercing pain, 
 
 Her fancies reveled through the storm. 
 
104 
 
 Would time were giYen, long, with which to tell 
 The dreams, some sad, some gay, that oft did 
 dwell 
 
 Upon her mind, while in this trance — 
 Her frequent journeys to the river dark — 
 The river Death, where cried she to embark — 
 
 This all would make a long romance. 
 
 One warm day, while her fever was raging so 
 
 hot and so high. 
 That her parents and all her acquaintances 
 
 thought she would die. 
 In a trance, the last time, to Death's river, she 
 
 ^went; 
 Many weary, lone hours, did she pace o'er the 
 
 long trodden shore, 
 While she cried to pass o'er to the heav'n that 
 
 her hopes had in store — 
 To the haven of bliss and its sweet enjoyment. 
 
 She was longing to cross from this world and 
 its grief, 
 Far beyond all its troubles annoyed with care, 
 To the shore decked with flowers, affording 
 relief 
 And a balm for the soul that had sorrow to 
 share. 
 
I05 
 
 Still she gazed on the Spring laden land, bloom- 
 ing sweet, 
 With a beauty unseen, and a grandeur un- 
 known, 
 Happy angel-tuned songs, with a music complete, 
 Lillie's ears then enticed from the balmy breeze 
 blown. 
 
 From the shore of perennial Spring, laden sweet 
 With the fragrance of flow'rs and the music 
 of love. 
 Twas the borderland fair, of the heavenly 
 retreat ; 
 Far beyond was the home of our Savior above. 
 She was thrilled and entranced w^ith the love- 
 mirrored scene ; 
 So she rushed to the brink, but the boatman 
 refused 
 To ferry her across to the tropical green . 
 From a rapture, she fell with her heart sorely 
 bruised, 
 
 And cried : ''Boatman, oh ! pilot me across 
 
 To where my guardian angel lives ! 
 Ah ! leave me not lost love's heartrending cross. 
 
 But bear me to the balm God gives 
 To those who suffer long life's paining sore. 
 
 Ah ! wilt thou leave me here alone 
 And haunt me with lost hope's sad Nevermo?e, 
 
 And doom me still to live and moan? 
 
106 
 
 '^My mother taught me that when sore oppressed, 
 
 When pain and anguish wrung my brow, — 
 When hope and life and love had left my breast, 
 
 That God in mercy would allow 
 For me the gates of pearl to open wide 
 
 And take me from my troubling grief, 
 To place me by mj guardian angeVs side, 
 
 Where e'er I'd live in blest relief. 
 
 *^0 angel band ! come bear me from this shore, 
 
 Where false and luring fancy's dream 
 Brings hope and love and joy in blissful store, 
 
 So full of sweets that only seem. 
 Oh ! take me to that land where hope can live, 
 
 Where love can hold its blissful joy : 
 Where happy dreams their own fruition give, 
 
 And snares no more our loved decoy." 
 
 She turned to see the throng that crossed. 
 
 She watched Death's boatman come and go ; 
 Most all, into the darksome stream, he tossed, 
 
 And they were washed to hell below ; 
 But some were carried safely o'er the tide 
 
 And landed on the Aidenn shore. 
 Their loved ones met them on that blissful side. 
 
 And greeting angels sang before. 
 
 Forsaken Lillie saw the badge, ^^Duty," 
 That shone upon the welcomed band, 
 
 In gleaming gold and radiant beauty : 
 It was the passport to God's land. 
 
107 
 
 The angels wore a badge of rainbow hue, 
 Which on their forehead beamed ; 'twas ^^ Love/ ^ 
 
 Resplendently, its golden beamings threw 
 A radiance o'er the Home above. 
 
 Soon she beheld just over her own heart, 
 
 The same gold badge of Love, so sweet, 
 *^Ah, now!'' she thought, ^'I'll make a safe 
 embark 
 
 And with my angel maid, I'll meet. 
 Who came to warn me of my woes to bear — 
 
 To show me horrid Fate to shun ; 
 And said I'd bud and bloom forever there. 
 
 Where laurel wreaths fair brows have won." 
 
 But no, the boatman still refused to take 
 
 Her 'cross the surging billows dark ; 
 But soon her angel came for mercy's sake 
 
 To comfort Lillie's breaking heart. 
 Her Guardian Angel said, with greeting smile. 
 
 Yet with a look that pity gave, 
 ^* Where is your badge of Duty, fair grieved child, 
 
 To show that in Right's cause you're brave?" 
 
 ^i 
 
 Dear Guardian Angel; see, I wear this : Love — 
 
 I loved one with my heart and soul ; 
 You wear this badge and so do all above ; 
 
 Don't this far more than Duty hold?" 
 ^^Ah, trusting maid ! you loved but one, of all 
 
 God's many children, loved and dear, 
 On whom, alike. His rays of mercy fall. 
 
 And for whom Christ did shed His tear. 
 
io8 
 
 ** You loved but one, and he tinwrorthy, too ; 
 
 How can you hope a crown to gain? 
 Congenial love, thoughts right, when nobly true — 
 
 The same through shadow, sun, or pain. 
 It brings the sweetest joys of earthly time, 
 
 And fills with sunshine, all its days ; 
 When hearts are tuned to Love's sweet song and 
 rhyme — 
 
 Departing not from Honor's ways. 
 
 **This boon of love is woman's shield and life — 
 
 Her hope, her joy, her long sought prize — 
 And all that makes a good and happy wife — 
 
 The soul of beauty in her eyes. — 
 The bond that binds her loved one to the home — 
 
 That sw^eetly guards the spring of life — 
 That holds the children fast, from tempting 
 Rome, 
 
 Around the fireside, free from strife. 
 
 *' 'Tis heaven's gift of bliss God willed to Eve 
 
 To make her life one lasting joy ; 
 Were not she caught by Satan's lured deceive^ 
 
 She yet would know no woes' annoy ; 
 But now tis half and half, a smile, a tear — 
 
 A day of hope and cloudless blue — 
 A night of storm and gloom and living fear.— 
 
 A heart that's false, a heart that's true. 
 
1 09 
 
 *^ First, \sroman fell by apples luscious red, 
 
 And man was doomed by tempted share ; 
 But lately, Satan tempts the man, instead, 
 
 With wine-cup's ruddy, luring glare; 
 So man has caused the race a second fall. 
 
 But woman bears its load of woe ; 
 It kills her peace, and throws o'er love and all, 
 
 A gloom that's worse than known before. 
 
 **^To her is measured now more saddening care, 
 
 Than peace and joy, and hours of rest; 
 More sleepless nights and heartless blows to bear, 
 
 Than happy days with loved ones blest. 
 Our saving Christ was man's salvation, great, 
 
 For all his fall from Eden's bliss ; 
 But this last fall from grand manhood's estate, 
 
 To darkest plains of sin, like this," 
 
 ^^Will Prohibition from disgracing shame 
 
 Soon come to make him free and wise? 
 It: will refine his tarnished, rusting name. 
 
 And open wide his heart and, eyes. 
 Fair maid, cast off your badge of Love ; go live 
 
 For God and man, and truth and right, 
 And wear this badge of Duty I now give; 
 
 Your life will then be pure delight. 
 
 ''List to the music sweet from Heaven's choir, 
 Heed not the doleful strain, 'Regret' ; 
 
 Make love for all, your soul and heart's desire; 
 Remember God, your lost forget. 
 
no 
 
 For Prohibition work and fight and pray, 
 
 And live to do your duty more ; 
 And then, at last, when conies your dying day^ 
 
 We'll ^welcome you on Heaven's shore/' 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The angel left her there alone to think — 
 
 A noise! she looked — an army grand 
 Was marching straight to Death's cold river- 
 brink. 
 
 They stepped, ^^Columbia," by the band. 
 The soldiers wore a sad, expressive face. 
 
 Which told of hopes long lost in gloom ; 
 Of lives misspent, without one spark of grace — 
 
 They seemed to know that next came doom. 
 
 They were striving to run far away from the 
 
 river so cold. 
 But a general and thirty-eight captains, with 
 
 ofl&cers bold. 
 Were sufficient to keep sixty thousand at bay. 
 Lillie's wonder aroused, then she said •** What, 
 
 kind stranger, can mean 
 All this numberless army that reaches as far as 
 
 can be seen ; 
 Can it be that the world has been ended to- 
 
 dav ?" 
 
Ill 
 
 But as he turned to speak, a horrid fright 
 Ran through her till her blood was cold. 
 
 In gilded letters, ^'Whisky Appetite,'' 
 He wore in front on badge of gold. 
 
 She looked 'round at the army ; every man 
 
 Was cursed with this all-shameful, telling 
 brand. 
 Which showed that honor had been sold. 
 
 A shamed expression, from an unknown woe, 
 
 Crept o'er the officer's rough face, 
 When first he saw fair Lillie's heavenly glow ; 
 
 Perchance, a thought of life's disgrace— 
 A thought of his own wife, once angel fair, 
 And all the pain he made her bear, 
 
 But quick to answer he made haste : 
 
 **Fair maid, 'tis Whisky's annual army great, 
 That marches on to Hell these years of late ; 
 
 It's from United States alone. 
 The officers of my own rank you see, — 
 Our Ca^ptain State commissions us to be 
 
 Lieutenant Rum Sellers at home. 
 
 **We have to pay our good old Captain State 
 To get this office — high with honor — great ; 
 
 But soon we make our money back. 
 "^Ve make our soldiers round us trembling stand, 
 And take from them their goods — to house and 
 land — 
 Captain don't care if they're beat black. 
 
112 
 
 '^TLere're forty-four, these Captain States, so 
 
 grand ; 
 They own the whole rich country, Unionland ; 
 
 But six are shabbiest men who live, 
 They never help to guide this army through, 
 But stay at home to make improvements new, 
 
 And share the rest their labors give. 
 
 ^^That^s General Samuel Union, greatest man 
 Who ever led the victory -gaining van ; 
 
 He gives to Satan, for some gold. 
 To keep his stately buildings and affairs 
 In goodly fix and give them kingly airs ; — 
 
 Satan steals it from him, weVe told.'^ 
 
 *^This army, sixty thousand men, so brave. 
 Are marched to Hell each year, by way of 
 Grave ; 
 They volunteered where whisky sold/^ 
 He would have said mu.h more, but proud 
 
 command, 
 **In file, march into river, every man !'' 
 But horrorss 1 what did she behold ? 
 
 The star-decked flag, our country ^s precious boon. 
 
 The heritage of Freedom's fight. 
 The general waved, alas! so deadl3' soon 
 
 'Twould go into the land of night. 
 Impulsive thrill! she bound, the flag to save, 
 And cried: ''Traitor! betraying, wretched 
 knave ! 
 
 Hovv^ dare you sell our country's right?" 
 
113 
 
 But no, her weakly hands could not regain 
 The flag, the gift from Honor's will. 
 
 The general, heartless wretch, with mind insane. 
 Then fiercely struck the maid, until 
 
 She fell, heartbroken, on the slippery ground. 
 
 Amid the scoff's and sneers of all around. 
 The general said, in harshest thrill : 
 
 * *Take that, unwoman thing ! and leave for home, 
 Where all your kind should have to stay. 
 
 And when you learn some sense, you'll let alone 
 Us men, who have the right to say 
 
 And do what we think best for country's good 
 
 The men are they who have to gain a liveli- 
 hood, 
 And always will have their own way." 
 
 Though stung by these rough words, and hurt 
 by blow, 
 
 The savage general had just dealt ; 
 Forgot she all she had to undergo, 
 
 And only for the banner felt : — 
 ''If I were now a man," the heroine said, 
 ''I'd save my country's flag, or fall here dead ; 
 
 I'd save the land where Freedom dwelt. 
 
 "God curse the soul that is so wretched low 
 
 To sell our Liberty, we prize 
 Above all else earth's longing mortals know, 
 
 The best and sweetest boon that lies 
 
114 
 
 Within the reach of man. It gives a peace 
 That's only known to souls when chains release, 
 To let them roam 'neath home's blue skies. 
 
 *^Traitor! can yoti forget what blood has 
 bought — 
 
 That Revolution fathers spilled? — 
 The liberty for which Washington fought, 
 
 And to our nation's trust was willed? 
 The flag that waved in triumph for the Right — , 
 Can you take down in Hell's abyss of night, 
 
 To wave no more o'er hearts it thrilled?" 
 
 Still on they go as heedless as a stone, 
 
 As heartless as a time-worn tree; 
 A prayer she cries, with a despairing moan : — 
 
 ^^Will crime triumph o'er bended knee? 
 God ! can the flag that waved o'er land and sea 
 Be torn from hands and hearts of brave and 
 free? 
 
 O God send help! I trust in thee!" 
 
 Behind a rush ! she heard a running man 
 Leap by. He grasped the flag to save; 
 
 He triumphed soon and bore from Satan's van — 
 Yes, from the clench of savage knave, 
 
 The precious flag of downtrod, fallen right. 
 
 Bold Lillie's face then beamed with heav'nly light, 
 When conquered this hero so brave. 
 
115 
 
 Impulse o'erwhelmed, at once she ran to meet^ 
 To welcome, love, and learn the name 
 
 Of this fair model hero, brave and fleet, 
 A man who'll have no peer in fame. 
 
 He smiled and said his name was Prohibition, 
 
 His work to better fallen man's condition — 
 To keep him from dread whisky's flame. 
 
 His features were as fair as the sun in the 
 morning, 
 And his eyes were so kind and so tenderly blue, 
 Much intelligence beaming, his face was adorning,^ 
 
 And to honor and duty he lived to be true. 
 On his brow the word God in bright gold was 
 gleaming. 
 In his hands, the dear flag of our country, he 
 bore, 
 O'er his heart, the sweet letters of Home were 
 gleaming. — 
 He was purest of mortals that dwelt here 
 belo^w. 
 
 Our true Lillie was beaming with lovelit glowing. 
 And her feelings were opened with wishes for 
 him: — 
 ^^May the breezes of heaven fore'er be blowing 
 O'er the land that's honored with your home 
 — a love hymn. 
 
ii6 
 
 "^^May the whispers of peace and the music of 
 Heaven 
 Ever echo their joys o'er the loved of your 
 home; 
 May the smiles of prosperity and hope be given 
 To the firesides of all in the country you roam. 
 
 ^^May you guard the motto of Home youVe 
 bearing ; 
 
 May you treasure the trust of the banner you 
 ^wave, 
 May the sons of freedom forever be sharing 
 All *the land of the free and the home of the 
 brave;' 
 May the stars of that flag for men's rights be 
 shining, 
 May the rivers of love forever overflow, 
 May the blessings of God, all your days be lining, 
 May you reign King of Home, till you're called 
 from below." 
 
 ""Lovely maid, take the thanks that my tongue 
 can't express ; 
 Ever on through my life, will the prayers you 
 have said, 
 Be a solace and cheer that my memory will bless. 
 Like a prophet, my hopes and my aims you 
 have read ; 
 
117 
 
 'Tis for freedom, my country, full justice and 
 right,— 
 ^Tis for home and its sacredlove shrine which 
 God gave. 
 That forever I'll stand and there bravely will 
 fight 
 Till King Whisky is killed, and Love's banner 
 can wave. 
 
 ^^Noble maid, for your work and your prayers 
 for me, 
 I will guard and will keep all your loved ones 
 from fear, 
 Woman's dower I'll bring to the homes of the 
 free — 
 The sweet dower of love, and protection so 
 dear. 
 To the firesides I'll give the contentment of bliss, 
 A sweet haven of rest — a long reign of loved 
 peace — 
 Tender smilings of love — holy virtue's own kiss — 
 All of these, I'll bring that woman's joys may 
 increase. 
 
 All the men will be gallant, kind-hearted, and 
 true ; 
 They will carry the banner of honor and right, 
 I will make them so loving and noble for 
 woman's trust due. 
 That no heart will be wrecked with neglect^ 
 nor with blight. 
 
ii8 
 
 ^^All the land soon will grow and will prosper in 
 wealth, 
 And the South and the North and the East 
 and the West 
 Will be free from vile liquor's devastating 
 stealth. 
 Then the homes and the nation and all will be 
 blest. 
 
 ^^And no more will the lover be drawn by the 
 snare, 
 From the heart and the side of his darling 
 sweet Lpve, 
 And no longer will maid have to pine and to bear, 
 For the loved and the lost till death calls her 
 above. 
 But her love will be true and her days w^ill be 
 blest 
 With the bounty of home and its pleasures 
 untold, — 
 With companionship sweet of her dearest and 
 best, 
 'Twill return all the bliss of the Eden of old/' 
 
 Lillie's eyes then were sparkling with hopefulness 
 bright. 
 And they showed that a gloom had just passed 
 far away, 
 As her blue orbs then beamed with a glorious 
 light. 
 While she looked him the thanks that her 
 tongue could not say. 
 
119 ' 
 
 ^'God bless you/' she murmured, as he bade her 
 good-bye : 
 ''I'm content now to live for my duty to him, 
 Ne'er again shall I utter a moan or a sigh. 
 For my lost, though the light in my heart 
 groweth dim." 
 
 IX 
 
 The vision faded, 'twas a fevered dream 
 
 Of how she tried to cross life's darksome stream. 
 
 She then awoke to feel her pain ; 
 But every hour would bring a brighter glow, 
 Till soon her body strong did health bestow : 
 
 The smile of peace came home again. 
 
 Long, weary day s of death her love had fraught. 
 But still the badge of Duty, good, it bought : 
 
 That made her woe bring heav'nly peace ; 
 Would we could blindly trust in God, with faith, 
 And lean on what the sacred scripture saith. 
 
 Then joy and right would e'er increase. 
 
 Each cheering, rosy morn, with brush unseen, 
 Which painted all the sylvan woods so green, 
 
 Would gently touch sweet Lillie's cheek, 
 Until it shone again with beauty rare, 
 And graced v^ith Duty's peace and virtue's fair. 
 
 Sweet mercy's light beamed round her feet. 
 
I20 
 
 Quite soon she walked those old retnembered 
 
 'ways, 
 And sang again the memory 'chanted lays; 
 
 Then oft an unknown woe would rise, 
 And bring a lonely tear of vague regret — 
 A ^sh that Love and she had never met 
 
 With bliss and grief, and joy and sighs. 
 
 Oh, memory! wliy renew thy backward flight 
 To foolish days of love, that turned to night? 
 
 Why keep us doomed to live the past?— 
 It has no peace, that's free from longing woe — 
 It's all a seeming charm of distant glow — 
 
 A siren dream that does not last. 
 
 Why shun the present day with all its store, 
 And run to ope the luring memory door. 
 
 Oh, mortal ! live God's given time. 
 But if no star will send its cheering light. 
 And all your present lot is gloomy night, 
 
 Then live in Hope, the land of rhyme. 
 
 But if this land is turned to burning waste. 
 Then welcome Christ; He'll make your heart 
 more chaste. 
 And give you Duty's badge and boon. 
 Then friends will come and heaven's blessings 
 
 greet ; 
 The birds will sing; the land will seem more 
 sweet ; 
 On every knoll, a^flower^will bloom. 
 
1^21 
 
 These noble thoughts would cross her mind, and 
 
 oft 
 They^d bring a balmy, soothing music soft 
 
 With tones of consolation dear. 
 And then she'd think no more of Love's star set, 
 But look at Duty's brighter star she'd met, 
 
 Which sent its cheering beams so near. 
 
 X. 
 
 ^ She wrote to her loved John, though lost, still 
 dear. 
 He held the trusted post of engineer. 
 
 She sent him Fate's unchanging will. 
 As parting keepsake from her heart and soul, 
 She wrote two poems for his good to toll. 
 When tempting snares would lure to ill: — 
 
 The Railroad of Life. 
 
 This life is like a crooked railroad ; 
 
 The engineer is brave. 
 Who makes the rough, long trip successful 
 
 From Cradle to the Grave. 
 
 And there are many stations on it, — 
 
 On this railroad of life ; 
 False flags will wave to stop your engine 
 
 And plunge it into strife, 
 
122 
 
 And you may run the curves of trouble; 
 
 For days and nights with ease ; 
 But time will have you side-tracked, 
 
 By the switchman, Disease. 
 
 And you may cross the plains of manhood^ 
 
 Run tunnels long of strife , 
 But having God as your conductor 
 
 On lightning train of life, 
 
 You'll never have to fear the stitching. 
 
 On up-grades 'long the road. 
 If you have Hope for your good fireman,. 
 
 You'll always pull the load. 
 
 Now name your engine, True Religion, 
 While running day or night ; 
 
 And use the coal of Faith for fuel — 
 'Twill always run you right. 
 
 Then never falter in your duty. 
 But put your trust in him, 
 
 And you will always find your engine 
 In best of running trim. 
 
 Always be mindful of instruction — 
 
 Your duty never lack ; 
 Still keep your hand upon the throttL 
 
 Your eye upon the track. 
 
123 
 
 But you will often find obstruction 
 
 That^s laid by evil brain 
 Across some dangerous, frightful chasm, 
 
 To try to wreck your train. 
 
 Then stop and move the dreadful danger, 
 
 Then mount and onward go ; 
 Still put your trust in Christ, the Savior, 
 
 Vile plans Hell overthrow. 
 
 Then ring your bell and blow your whistle, 
 
 Let not your courage slack ; 
 E'er keep your hand upon throttle. 
 
 Your eye upon the track. 
 
 When you have made the trip successful^ 
 
 And at your journey's end ; 
 You'll find the blessed angels ^vaiting 
 
 To ^welcome you right in. 
 
 And then you will meet the Superinten dent > 
 
 Who's waiting for you now. 
 With blissful, happy smiles of welcome — 
 
 A crown to deck your brow. 
 
 ("The Railroad of Life" was really written by the heroine.) 
 
124 
 
 Remember Me and Shun the Bowl. 
 
 Fate has parted us forever, 
 Untuned our harps of music sweet ; 
 
 Gone, the days of love and pleasure. 
 Their smiles no more our hearts will see. 
 
 Satan lured you from my keeping, 
 And bound to Demon Drink, your soul — 
 
 Stealing all that's pure and holy- 
 Remember me, and shun the bowl. 
 
 Has your manhood passed away, 
 
 Has courage left a weakly hand ? 
 Be a hero now of valor. 
 
 The hellish drink and snare withstand ; 
 Temperance, truth, and virtuous living, 
 
 Are names on Honor's manhood roll, 
 Heed the cry of loving Lillie, — 
 
 Remember me, and shun the bowl. 
 
 Think of your dear saintly mother. 
 Who's praying God her son to save; 
 
 Soon, if you don't change for better, 
 You'll send her hopeless to the grave. 
 
 Think of your lost darling Lillie, 
 
 Who loved you from her heart and soul ; 
 
 Think of how you sent the sorrow- 
 Remember me, and shun the bowl. 
 
 Think of your dear loving sister. 
 Now budding fair with rosy bloom — 
 
 Think — a drunkard might be wooing, 
 To fill her life wnth endless doom. 
 
 Cries she oft, to know you're drinking; 
 It wounds her very inmost soul. 
 
 Think of all the woe you're causing; 
 
 Remember me, and shun the bowl. 
 
125 
 
 Painful tears are quickly running 
 
 Down o^er the cheeks that once you kissed; 
 But ^tis vain to be repining 
 
 For all the joy our love has missed ; 
 John, grant me one farewell favor, 
 
 It comes from out my heart and soul ; 
 Do whatever you will^ but always 
 
 Remember m,e^ and shun the bowl I 
 
 LiLLIE. 
 
 These verses, covered o'er with spots of tears, 
 
 She sent as farewell warning's call 
 To him who brightened all her sunny years — 
 
 First love — ^last love — that tells it all. 
 She begged him then to go so far aw^ay, 
 
 Their eyes would never meet again, 
 Until beyond the final judgment day 
 
 They met above life's ruining gin. 
 
 At once John left his post as engineer ; 
 
 And none has known, yet, where he went; 
 
 Inquired and searched, have people, far and near, 
 But never news from him was sent. 
 
 Young man ! launched out on vice and luring 
 snares, 
 Bereft of hope and love and joy — 
 
 We send to God our earnest, pleading prayers- 
 Lord, may he shun the drink's decoy. 
 
126 
 
 XI. 
 
 If Lillie^s mind were only highly trained 
 
 In school, and on through college, too. 
 For tender verse and thoughts, she'd soon be 
 famed 
 
 Far more than poets w^hich she knew. 
 ^'But Knowledge to her eyes, its ample page, 
 
 Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll ; 
 Chill Penury repressed her noble rage. 
 
 And froze the genial current of her soul.'' 
 
 But still despite her constant household care — 
 
 Bereft of gentle word that flows 
 In milder streams from those who learning 
 
 share — 
 Though still, her happy love in maiden youth — 
 
 Her loss which willed the boon of Duty, 
 Did fill her soul with music, heav'n and truth, 
 
 So that oft writes she verse of beauty : — 
 
 Dark and Bright. 
 
 No sweet hope lives, but what to-morrow, 
 
 With cruelness and fears. 
 Will kill and bury long in sorrow. 
 
 And cover o'er with tears. 
 
 There's not a plan but what will tumble 
 
 And fall to depths below ; 
 There's not a man but what will grumble, 
 
 In this sad world of woe. 
 
127 
 
 There^s not a flower, but blooms to wither 
 
 And live, no, nevermore; 
 There^s not a friend, but wanders hither. 
 
 Where we can never go. 
 
 There's not a soul that soars to glory, 
 
 And shares all earthly fame; 
 But soon we'll cease to tell his story, 
 
 And soon forget his name. 
 
 There's not a heart that shares Fruition — 
 
 Desire will never cease ; 
 Our hearts are prone to pain's condition, 
 
 And never made for peace. 
 
 Our souls will never lose their longing. 
 
 Our hearts, their aching pain. 
 Until we leave this land of wronging, 
 
 And cross beyond life's main. 
 
 Yes, there's a home in distant Aidenn, 
 Where live the pure and free — 
 
 A rest for souls with sorrow laden^ 
 A balm for you and me. 
 
 This home, with all the peaceful glory 
 
 That bliss can sweetly give, 
 Is free to all who read its story. 
 
 And ever faithful live. 
 
 Ah, now! I'll work alone for Duty— 
 
 The good that I can do ! 
 I'll leave the flaws and look for beauty 
 
 And seek the smiles in view. 
 
128 
 
 And now T find in life a pleasure — 
 
 On every face a smile ; 
 In every heart a golden treasure, 
 
 Sweet peace lives all the while. 
 
 No flower withers, till another 
 
 Is born to bloom as fair ; 
 No friend departs until some other 
 
 Is found our love to share. 
 
 No sweet hope lives but what to-morrow 
 
 Will roll its stone away ; 
 No rending pain e'er reigns in sorrow. 
 
 But what will die some day. 
 
 To live for God and Man and Heaven, 
 
 All troubles pass away ; 
 For then our lives are sweet with leaven. 
 
 Content then smiles each day. 
 
 *^Full many a gem of rarest ray serene. 
 
 The dark, unf athomed caves of ocean bear- 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air.'' 
 
 If the flow'rs from the wildwood and jewels 
 
 from sea. 
 Could be gathered, what beautiful garlands 
 
 would be ! 
 If the flowers of mind and the jewels of soul, 
 Could be gathered on earth, we would have 
 
 Heaven's whole. 
 
129 
 
 Under Liberty ^s throne and Prosperity's home, 
 
 Far more flowers could be culled from the parch- 
 ing dry loam ; 
 
 But the strife's for the gold — not the bettering 
 of mind, 
 
 Hence the many who have perished for tendings 
 we find. 
 
 Alabama's responsible for ignorance of late, 
 That exists in our homes, more than in another 
 
 State. 
 'Tis no wonder that Lillie's education was small, 
 As she lived behind Poverty's dark, heavy wall ; 
 For her father, a farmer, with family large. 
 Had a struggling hard work to support well his 
 
 charge. 
 And the public free schools for three months and 
 
 some less, 
 Were all out by the time that a child could 
 
 progress. 
 
 But boys of high ambition, joined to pluck. 
 Have overcome and blessed all this bad luck. 
 They work and go to school, then work again^ 
 Until at last they're great and able men. 
 If any man deserve our highest praise, 
 'Tis he who climbs from Poverty's dark ways. 
 This is the reason why that ^'Here we rest," 
 Has men that grand Nobilit^^ counts best. 
 
130 
 
 But her neglect to educate the poor, 
 Has made her ballot more corrupt than sure; 
 Her institutions, too, will stay on sand. 
 Unless the children now in her command. 
 Are taught and trained for citizenship true. 
 As it has been, no difference what they do. 
 The girls can never rise as boys have done. 
 It surely is a partial luck for one. 
 
 So girls with fathers poor, have had to pine 
 And live without the cultures that refine. 
 If Mercy's balm e'er soothe a human breast. 
 It should be girls by hope and want oppressed. 
 Oh ! noble hope that burns the livelong day ! 
 Will man e'er roll the heavy stone away? 
 It is a cowardly, unmanly sin 
 To keep them doomed e'er with ^^It might have 
 been." 
 
 I crave to be a wealthy millionaire 
 
 Por only this ; when girls are found so rare, 
 
 To open doors for hopes that ever cling. 
 
 And help them mount to learning's sweet'ning 
 
 spring. 
 Oh, woman pure! if earth have long oppressed, 
 God gives a home where 3^ou will e'er be blest. 
 No hopes there wail, no loved one proves untrue. 
 There brightest stars will shine in crowns for 
 
 you. 
 
131 
 
 But there is always a befitting place, 
 
 By God ordained, for humblest one of race. 
 
 ^^Work for some good, be it ever so slowly, 
 
 Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly. 
 
 Labor! all labor is noble and hol^^ !'' 
 
 So Duty found for Lillie many ways. 
 
 Despite her chance, where weakly hand e^er pays, 
 
 And soon her influence, good, around her sways. 
 
 She visits sick and seems to them as sent. 
 Like angels, with the balm of sweet content. 
 And ev'ry Sunday morning bright. 
 She's at her Sabbath-school class ; blessed sight. 
 To see her teach the little children how" to live 
 To share the glorious peace that Christ can give. 
 And soon the trusting ones have learned to love, 
 And think her sweet and pure as gentle dove. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The noblest work she yet has ever done — 
 
 One that will win a heaven and a crown : — 
 The friendship of the village girls she won. — 
 
 Her gracious influence circling round 
 Them for the holy temperance cause to strive 
 
 And work to drive all whisky from the place. 
 The village once was beautiful and live 
 
 With every good and chastening grace. 
 
132 
 
 Its rural people then were richly blest 
 
 With love and honor, health and ease. 
 Contented hours, in plenty, then were dressed, 
 
 And peaceful pleasures came to please. 
 Sweet maidens, rosy-cheeked and angel-fair. 
 
 Once wandered o'er the village green. 
 They beamed with virtue's holy smile so rare — 
 
 No lovelier, happier girls ^were seen. 
 
 Their health and beauty, full of nature's grace, 
 
 No fashion craze had yet oppressed. 
 The mother's care — the father's pride, no race 
 
 With sweeter girls were ever blest. 
 The boys grew honest, kind, and true; 
 
 A Christian training brightly shone 
 From handsome brows ^svhich plainly showed 
 they'd do 
 
 To enter noble work when grown. 
 
 School buildings— churches, crowned the rising 
 hills. 
 
 Where happy. Christian people, true 
 To God and home and native land, instilled 
 
 The worth of mind and heart, all through 
 The glowing youthful years, to children dear. 
 Alas ! they dreamed not then, a frowning day 
 
 Of vice quite soon would reign supreme, 
 And that the dear ones that they taught with 
 fear 
 
 Would soon be turned to wretches mean. 
 
133 
 
 A railroad soon ran 'cross the village green, 
 
 'Twas ^c\relcomed with a cheering gieet, 
 For then the busy world could e'er be seen — 
 
 New styles and ways were thought so sweet. 
 The boys then went to cities large, 
 
 And to the railroad with its snares. 
 The honest looks and virtuous ways, encharged 
 
 To them at fireside evening prayers, 
 
 Saloons and wicked comrades, round their vine 
 
 Of luscious temperance fruit, home gave, 
 Ere long the once so noble sons, entwine 
 
 Their necks with chains to drunkard's graves. 
 Oh, world of change! what can an hour bring? — 
 
 A grief for joy — a wreck for man, 
 A hell for home — a woe for mother's sting. 
 
 The village w^as by drink o'erran, 
 
 The churches lost their glow of heavenly white 
 
 And plainly shovv^ed there was neglect; 
 The schoolhouse caught the deadly rusting 
 blight. 
 
 Its former glory soon was wrecked. 
 O God ! can't love its rural kingdom hold. 
 
 Its village home of blessed peace. 
 Where virtue's mint yields pure and lasting gold 
 
 And sinless pleasures ne'er decrease ; 
 
134 
 
 But social hours of joy and merry song, 
 
 And gatherings at the day's dechne, 
 Gave way for dancing all the night-time long, 
 
 And constant revels in the wine. 
 The maids have lost their winsome beauty fair, 
 
 That queenly face that won the heart ; 
 They're nothing now but giddy girls who share 
 
 No charms that womanhood impart. 
 
 These girls that used to ply the household care, 
 
 And let their mothers have some rest, 
 Now lounge, and read the trashy novel's snare, 
 
 And let alone the books which blessed 
 Their growing minds and hearts in days gone by. 
 
 Their mothers bear the burden now. 
 While daughters frolic, fret, and wish, and sigh 
 
 For stylish dress and paint for brow. 
 
 No worthy, manly men now come to woo 
 
 And win a queen to bless a home, 
 But dudes and flirts and drinking boys, untrue — 
 They promise city homes and latest style. 
 
 And ne'er will let them w^ork again. 
 Girls yield with pride, but ere a little while. 
 
 They're lost to peace by worthless men. 
 
135 
 XIII. 
 
 Such havoc wild, the drink fiend wrought for 
 years, 
 
 Until bold Lillie came to save. 
 The girls she told of v%'hisky's killing tears. 
 
 That lead our loved ones to the grave ; 
 She told of liquor's wrongs too long endured, 
 
 Of how the village used to be — 
 She mentioned sacred rights to be secured 
 
 Before their hearts from grief would free. 
 
 She worked with faithful, patient efforts long^ 
 
 And got the girls quite all agreed 
 To shun, and ne'er respect, like shameful wrongs 
 
 The men who're bound to w^hisky's greed. 
 She wakened slumbering right, and taught a 
 truth 
 
 That they who countenance a vice. 
 Are sinners, too ; 'tis true from age to youth, 
 
 In all the actions that entice. 
 
 The ladies, who associate with men 
 
 Of dissipated habits vile. 
 Are great accessories to help the sin 
 
 Of drink to spread and more beguile. 
 The worthless ' ^gentlemen" (?) then raved and 
 s^svore 
 
 That soon the '^saints" would welcome them. 
 And said the town was dead to live no more — 
 
 The worst then left for darker den. 
 
136 
 
 Ere long the better sons and fathers true, 
 
 Are roused from honoris shameful sleep, 
 And organize a Prohibition crew, 
 
 And work with might and main to keep 
 Saloons and whisky men from out the town ; 
 
 Quite soon their efforts paid full well. 
 For now no whisky hells are close around — 
 
 No place for vice and crime to dwell. 
 
 The golden days then slowly come again, 
 
 But healing sores ne'er lose their scars : — 
 Mothers knew not the peace that once had been — 
 
 Some sons behind the prison bars ! 
 Some daughters now are drunkard's wives, 
 bereft 
 
 Of all the peace a home can give, 
 Their hope, their joy, their peace, their all, was 
 left 
 
 To sink where lasting miseries live. 
 
 But still the palmy days of old renewed 
 
 And sweetened hearts that lived regret ; 
 Then sunshine, progress, peace, and love ensued — 
 
 A heav'nlier change was never met. 
 All praise to Lillie, heroine for the Right,— 
 
 An angel sent for home's defense ; 
 Would there were thousands such to use their 
 might. 
 
 Constructing, 'round the home, a fence. 
 
137 
 
 Some years rolled by, the village prospered well ; 
 
 As fruits of peace and love and truth, 
 A high-school building stood with merry bell 
 
 To call aspiring, happy youth. 
 And Lillie's father, true to parents' due, 
 
 Then left the farm, by riverside, 
 And moved his family to the village, too ; 
 
 Where they did pleasantly reside. 
 
 While all his children to the growing school, 
 
 Then went and learned so very fast ; 
 They loved their teachers and obeyed their rule, 
 
 Till happy school-days, all were past. 
 Oh ! how they love their father, kind and dear. 
 
 For doing this for their own sake, — 
 To leave the farm and move so very near. 
 
 Then work — while they their schooling take. 
 
 Such noble fathers, e'er will children bless 
 
 By word and then by living creed ; 
 They'll emulate their christianlike goodness, 
 
 And live to work for honor's need. 
 From homes like this come those who bless the 
 race — 
 
 Self-made— they tempered their own steel ; 
 They're firm and true and e'er will bravely face 
 
 The foe, for right and country's weal. 
 
 10 
 
138 
 
 The worthy father toiled from morn till night; 
 
 Through sun and rain, through heat and cold, 
 Until his constitution broke outright, 
 
 And soon for him the church bell tolled ! 
 Heartrending grief long flows when rich men 
 die 
 
 And leave their loved ones, money's wealth; 
 But think how hard must be the painful cry. 
 
 When poor men die, and leave to stealth. 
 
 Their families large, with nothing to sustain ^ 
 
 His only son was scarce fourteen — 
 Ah ! picture grief, and hope decayed to pain ! 
 
 And children robbed of vernal green ! 
 The children one shortyearin school had spent — 
 
 Now all their chance to learn seemed past; 
 And worse than all, their hearts were sorely 
 rent — 
 
 Sad gloom their days had overcast. 
 
 'Twas all that could be done by them to earn, 
 
 While their dear father w^as alive, 
 A common living, by an economic turn. 
 
 But now they must still harder strive. 
 Good Lillie helped her mother all the year, 
 
 To let her sisters go to school; 
 Ah ! 'twould have been a privilege so dear, 
 
 Could she have gone to learning's yule. 
 
139 
 
 And still a heroine, she proved to be, 
 
 In this dark hour of ^vant and woe ; 
 She and her little brother worked so free, 
 
 That no great want the family knew ; 
 She and a younger sister clerked in store, 
 
 Her brother hired in various ways ; 
 The younger girls were sent to school some more, 
 
 Heroic Avork, like this, we praise ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Two years roll by— her father had just bought 
 
 Their village home before he died. 
 But had not paid for it; so, when 'twas sought, 
 
 They could no longer there abide. 
 So, to the little farm, again they moved ; 
 
 'Twas hard to leave the village dear. 
 And part with those whom friendship had im- 
 proved. 
 
 But still it was so very near, 
 
 That oft the boys and girls would spend 
 
 A pleasant day at Lillie's home ; 
 A merry time, the day would always send, 
 
 While 'mong the river flowers they roam. 
 Out in the swift canoe, they joyous glide, 
 
 And fish and talk the hours away ; • 
 Such country pleasures, that to some denied, 
 
 Make glad the hours a lonely day. 
 
140 
 
 'Twas here I met the lovely heroine true — 
 
 The heroine for Duty's might ; 
 She made me turn for Prohibition, new — 
 
 To stand for home and country's right. 
 Her pure, sweet Christian life, and works sub- 
 lime. 
 
 Have sent God's sunshine to my heart ; 
 Such virtuous maidens sweeten earth's lone clime 
 
 With smiling sunshine they impart. 
 
 On lightning wheels, the years are rolling by — 
 
 They all find Lillie true to right; 
 Her badge of Duty, ne'er will she deny, 
 
 Its radiance gives a gracious light ; 
 Full many men of honor came to w^oo 
 
 And win the lovely heroine ; 
 But to her lost — her only Love— she's true, 
 
 Her heart echoes : ^^ It might have been.'^ 
 
 The cheerful morning-glory vine, 
 Round her cottage porch doth twine ; 
 Cool zephyrs, from the river sent, 
 Are laden with a sweet content ; 
 Though yet she hears the strain, ^^Regret,'^ 
 And sighs that Hope's loved star has set^ 
 Ere long, she'll bud and sweetly bloom 
 In Aidenn spring, beyond the tomb. 
 
PART III. 
 
 ALABAMA WRITERS. 
 
 It was the worthy aim of the author to intro- 
 duce, through this part, every Alabama writer of 
 note and merit. But with his short acquaintance 
 with the literati of the State, and his limited time 
 in preparing this, he fears that many who deserve 
 a notice have not been represented. It was his 
 object to introduce each one by an acrostic, fol- 
 lowed by the best thoughts to be culled from his 
 or her respective writing ; but want of space, time, 
 and an opportunity to select from the writing of 
 every one, has prevented this being done in every 
 case. 
 
 Truly, Alabama should feel proud of her writers, 
 and considering the number of her promising 
 young authors, she, perhaps, soon, will hold the 
 front rank in Southern letters. 
 
 Father Abram J. Ryan, formerly of Mobile, was 
 the warmest patriotic poet of the South. Mrs. 
 Augusta Evans Wilson, now living in Mobile, is 
 one of the greatest of novel writers. There is a 
 strain of nobleness and purity of sentiment per- 
 vading her numerous works. Judge A. B. Meek, 
 who died at the close of the war, in Tuscaloosa, 
 was an uncommonly sweet poet. He published 
 two books of poems ; both are out of print now. 
 
142 
 
 One ^was entitled ** Songs and Poems of the South.'' 
 Dr. Samtjel Minturn Peck, of Tuscaloosa, is in 
 many respects the greatest living poet. He would 
 be known and loved in every cultured home in our 
 Southland, but his verses are copyrighted by a 
 Northern publisher and, consequently, not so ex- 
 tensively sold in the South. The author is indebted 
 to the kindness of Fredrick A. Stokes & Co., New^ 
 York, for the privilege of selecting the roses of 
 thought from his second volume of poems, ^^Rings 
 and Love Knots.'' The young and wonderfully 
 gifted Miss Ruby Beryl Kyle, of Birmingham, has 
 made a brilliant debut into the world of letters, 
 as a story-writer and the author of ^^Paul St. 
 Paul." The South learned with pride of the 
 marvelous genius of Miss Alice Vivian Brownlee, 
 of Mulberry, w^ho, at the age of fifteen, had writ- 
 ten the delightfully sweet and tender novel, ^*The 
 Affinities," for the copyright of which she refused 
 $2,800. Dr. Orion T. Dozier,in his recent book of 
 poems, ^^ Foibles of Fancy and Rhymes of the 
 Times," has given our patriotic literature an 
 offering to make us admire him and love him. 
 Miss Mary Gordon Duflfee, of Blount Springs, has 
 long been giving to the world the fruits of her re- 
 markable genius for poetry and history. Mrs. B. 
 F. Moore, of Auburn, has been delighting the 
 humorous world with the backwoods sketches of 
 ''Betsy Hamilton." Mr. Aubrey Harwell, of 
 Birmingham, is a sweet and promising singer. 
 Miss Margaret O'Brien, of Birmingham, is a rare 
 
143 * 
 
 writer. Mr. T. C. DeLeon, of Mobile, is a worthy 
 contributor of the Century Magazine, Miss Veni 
 McDonald (^'Pearl Meredyth'') has, from early 
 childhood, been giving us rare, sweet thoughts in 
 story and verse. Dr. J. M.P. Otts,of Greensboro, 
 is a talented theological and Biblical writer. Mrs. 
 J. I. McKenney, of Montgomery, some years ago, 
 published a creditable volume of verses under the 
 pseudonym, ^^Katy-did.'^ Mr. J. Burdick Clarke, 
 of Montgomery, is an interesting dialect story- 
 writer. Mr. J. Waller Henry, of Montgomery, 
 writes beautiful poems. Mrs. Zula B. Cook, of 
 Anniston, and Mrs. Mary Ware, of Birmingham, 
 have appreciated poems published frequently. 
 
 Among other writers are Mrs. Alice Kate Ro- 
 land, Birmingham ; Mrs. Francis J ansenius, Birm- 
 ingham; Prof. S. L. Robertson, Birmingham; 
 Mr. T. M. Owen, Birmingham; Mr. Sheffield 
 (deceased), Bessemer; Mr. John E. Brady ('*Joe 
 Archy^'), Bessemer; Rev. J.*L. Abernathy, Lang- 
 ston; Miss Martha Young (^'EU Shepheard''), 
 Greensboro; Mrs.J.B. Lennard ('*Evola''), Wilson 
 Ridge; and Miss Sallie Oden, Bangor: 
 
 Those whom the author has not mentioned have 
 not been neglected intentionally, but for want of 
 their acquaintance. 
 
Southern breezes rose and milder blew, 
 
 As, when out the gates 'neath heaven's bowers, 
 
 Minturn, through the ether wavelets flew 
 
 Unto our sweet summer land of flow'rs. 
 
 Empyrean songs from courts of blue 
 
 Lent glad melodies to be his dow'rs. 
 
 Mantled with the South's fond bending skies, 
 Idolized with cool magnolia's shade, 
 Nursed mid flow'rs as fair as sunset dyes, 
 'Tis no wonder he has gladlj^ Inade 
 Unto song the wealth of all his ties. 
 Purer, sweeter gems, with Muses' aid. 
 Never from a genius soul did rise ! 
 
 Poet-laureate of gentler rhymes ! 
 Each quaint song of innocence and glee 
 Calls an honor to our Southern climes — 
 Known his fame across the barrier sea. 
 
145 
 
 (Rings and Love Knots.) 
 
 The mocking bird joined in my reckless glee, 
 
 I longed for noangePs wing, 
 I was just as near Heaven as I wanted to be 
 
 Swinging in the grapevine swing. 
 I'm tired of the world with its pride and pomp 
 
 And fame seems a worthless thing. 
 I'd barter it all for one day's romp. 
 
 And a swing in the grapevine swing. 
 
 Swinging in the grapevine swing. 
 
 Laughing where the wild birds sing, 
 I would I were away 
 From the world to-day. 
 
 Swinging in the grapevine swing. 
 
 She hath a witching dimple ; 
 
 Now was it not a sin 
 That when the fairies crowned her 
 
 They put that dimple in ! 
 The heartaches it hath given 
 
 It grieves my soul to think ; 
 She has no care how lovers fare — 
 
 The little lass in pink. 
 
 Meet me where the apple blossoms blow ; 
 
 Let the floating petals flake your tresses, 
 Breathing us a benison below, 
 Crowning our betrothal with caresses. 
 For in the upper deep. 
 The stars are now a-peep, 
 
146 
 
 The drowsy river murmurs in its flow, 
 I hear its voice repeating : 
 *' Lifers in blossom — time is fleeting/' 
 Ah ! let us catch the fragrance ere it go, 
 
 Love 
 Oh, 
 Meet me where the apple-blossoms blow ! 
 
 The love in my heart is as strong as the hills 
 
 And as deep as the fathomless sea. 
 Yet pure as the breath of the rose that thrills 
 
 The soul of the summer with glee. 
 As fair as the light of the faithful stars 
 
 That beam in the boundless blue ; 
 No selfish mote its radiance mars, 
 
 And sweetheart, it is all for you. 
 
 All for you ! 
 
 Strong and true. 
 No time the tie can sever, 
 
 Till the angels doubt, 
 
 And the stars burn out, 
 I am yours, sweetheart, forever. 
 
 Chrysanthemums are fair. 
 And orchids are rare. 
 
 And many there be that love them ! 
 But with dew-besprinkled faces, 
 And wildwood graces ; 
 
 Oh, the blackberry blossoms are above them 
 
147 
 
 So, loyal little rosebud, 
 Just whisper to my sweet ; 
 
 I sigh for her, 
 
 I'd die for her. 
 My heart is at her feet. 
 
 What were life wathout you. Oh, I cannot, dare 
 
 not dream ! 
 'Twere worthless as a shattered leaf upon an au- 
 tumn stream ! 
 
 O my sweet. 
 At your feet. 
 
 Heed my lonely cry ; 
 Grant relief 
 To my grief. 
 Love me, or I die ! 
 
 I've toiled and won an honored name. 
 
 And now Tm growing old ; 
 I've touched the shining hem of fame, 
 
 And fotmd its touch was cold; 
 But still, from out the shadowy past, 
 
 One memory brings me bliss, 
 For I shall keep, while life shall last. 
 
 Our first betrothal kiss. 
 
148 
 
 Her breath is like the breeze that plays 
 
 Amid the fragrant thorn ; 
 Her voice outsweets the rill that strays 
 
 Through April woods at morn. 
 Alas ! for him who stops to gaze 
 
 Upon her locks a-twined ; 
 His aimless feet shall go their ways, 
 
 And leave his heart behind. 
 
 If on the field of love you fall, 
 
 With smiles conceal your pain ; 
 Be not to love too sure a thrall, 
 
 But lightly wear his chain. 
 Don^t kiss the hem of Beauty's gown. 
 
 Or tremble at her tear, 
 And v^hen caprices weigh you down, 
 
 A word within your ear : 
 Another lass, another lass. 
 With laughing eyes and bright — 
 Make love to her. 
 And trust me, sir, 
 'Twill set your wrongs aright. 
 
 O little love, with wayward curls. 
 
 No jewel do I bring you ; 
 If tripping rhymes were glossy pearls, 
 
 What shining gems I'd string you ! 
 And through the night. 
 With laughing light, 
 
 A diadem I'd fling j^ou. 
 
149 
 
 Senorita, dark thy hair, 
 
 Gleaming with imprisoned light, 
 Like a subtle shining snare. 
 
 Tangling fast my dreams by night. 
 Sleep or waking, still for thee, 
 All my fevered thoughts do flow ; 
 
 Sweetheart, if thon lov^st not me, 
 Break the spell and let me go . 
 
 Our love-life has witnessed more laughing than 
 
 weeping ; 
 We chase with fond kisses the footprints of care; 
 But my little wife never dreams I am keeping 
 The little red ribbon she wore in her hair. 
 
 Though faded and crinkled. 
 
 And rumpled and wrinkled, 
 The bonnie bright looping that glistened so fair; 
 
 Far down in my pocket 
 
 It lies in a locket. 
 The little red ribbon she wore in her hair. 
 
 Oh ! could some painter^s facile brush, 
 On canvas limn my garden's blush. 
 The fevered world its din would hush 
 
 To crown the high endeavor ; 
 Or could a poet snare in rhyme 
 The breathings of this balmy clime. 
 His fame might dare the dart of Time 
 
 And soar undimmed forever ! 
 
150 
 
 She sings as soft as the wind that grieves 
 When the summer roses blight. 
 
 O first love, O last love, 
 
 Beside the summer sea ; 
 As clasps the wave the star above, 
 
 So clings my heart to thee ! 
 
 Whose are the veins that laugh and leap, 
 
 Whenever thy name is heard ? 
 Whose are the eyes that fain would weep, 
 
 To think of a hope deferred ? 
 Whose is the arm that will not fail, 
 
 If ever thy need shall be ? 
 Whose is the love that never grows pale ? 
 
 Come, look in my heart, and see ; 
 Dear heart. 
 
 Look in my heart and see. 
 
 Be my fate or dear or bright, 
 Soon, ah ! soon I'll know it, 
 
 If I may not be her knight,— 
 Still I'll be her poet ! 
 
 She stooped and plucked a daisy. 
 
 To bind amid her hair, 
 And I seemed to see it laughing 
 
 With the rapture to be there. 
 
151 
 
 Wooing, wooing, w ooing ! Alas 'tis growing late 
 The birds are mated long ago ; sweetheart shall 
 
 we not mate? 
 The tender melody of love makes music in the 
 
 blood; 
 The magic tide that comes but once is rolling to 
 
 the flood. 
 Alas ! for those who dream and dream unplighted 
 
 on the shore. 
 And wake to find the tide of love has ebbed for- 
 e verm ore ! 
 
 There was envy in the skies 
 When the stars beheld her eyes, 
 So lovely are the glances of that little lass of mine. 
 There's a song most wonderful that never has 
 
 been sung, 
 'Tis waiting for a worthy bard to breathe its 
 golden line ; 
 O poet, come and sing it on a harp with silver 
 strings, « 
 
 No other lay were fitting for that little lass of 
 mine. 
 
 Come ripple forth the praises 
 Like the rillet through the daisies. 
 And let your rhymes part, meet and kiss like 
 blossoms on a vine. 
 
 While a fairy's wings unseen 
 Float the trembling strings between. 
 To make the carol meeter for that little lass of 
 mine. 
 
152 
 
 (The South.) 
 
 No blot of shame thy record mars 
 
 In senate-hall, or lurid fight ; 
 Thy spotless fame shines like the stars 
 
 That guard thee through the balm}- night, 
 In weary wandering to and fro, 
 Thou hast my heart where'er I go. 
 
 And I dream by the billows blue 
 Of a heart that was leal and true; 
 And I Yow by the tide, 
 Though fate may divide 
 My faith shall abide 
 And grow ; 
 And my heart ever turn while the light stars burn 
 To my love in the long ago. 
 
 There is a mate for every heart 
 
 That throbs beneath the sun, 
 Though some by fate are kept apart 
 
 Til] life is nearly done ; 
 Where is the loyal heart and hand 
 
 Shall make my life complete? 
 God bless my love, on sea or land. 
 
 Until our paths shall meet ! 
 
Obedient fame to thoughts of birth divine, 
 Responds to meed the burning glow of thine. 
 In patriot hearts where live the inner soul 
 Of Southern hope, bulwarked with valor bold, 
 No song of thine will ever be untold. 
 
 Thy ^^Galaxy of Southern Heroes'* brave. 
 Holds deathless tributes which vicious grave 
 Entombs not, while proud memory has a thought 
 Of how our Southern heroes braved and fought ! 
 Put this beside the *^ Conquered Banner' ' grand! 
 Hold them to show the greatness of our land. 
 Impulsive with a patriot's burning zeal ; 
 Luxuriant thoughts and wisdom's words of steel, 
 Unite to form a power of mighty name, 
 So strong and rich it wins thee peerless fame. 
 
 Descends thou then to milder, gentler strains 
 
 Of constant friendship, love, and their refrains. 
 
 Zeal's patriot poet, friendship's nobleman! 
 
 In loving fondness gentle zephyrs fan 
 
 Each treasured song of thine along the strand 
 
 Round Dixie's glorified immortal land. 
 11 
 
iS4 
 ( ^'Foibles of Fancy and Rhymes of The Times.'') 
 
 Let angels that hover around us in air, 
 
 Keeping record of joys that bloom in the hearty 
 Proclaim from their tablets the dearest joy there; 
 
 And in whispers of spirit we'll hear themimpart^ 
 That it is the sweet pleasures when exiles we roam^ 
 
 Of knowing that loved ones remember us still, 
 And that dear ones we've left behind us at home 
 
 Have thoughts of ourselves, their memories to 
 fill! 
 
 To flatter her is just as silly, 
 
 As trying to paint the fairest lily 
 
 But I will not attach a blame 
 
 To one of such transcendent charms ; 
 For heaven itself would blush in shame 
 
 To see such beauty in my arms. 
 'Twas fate that taught my youthful hearty 
 
 Its love upon such charms to set. 
 But fate can never teach the art 
 
 To change from love, and then forget. 
 
 When lips to lips and breast to breast 
 In tenderness of love are pressed. 
 There speaks a voice from out the heart ; 
 That faltering words will not impart! 
 And love's sweet music, through the voice 
 Makes all within the soul rejoice! 
 
 I .. 
 
155 
 
 And now all the joy in life that T ask 
 
 Is to walk and to muse by the sea, 
 Whose every low surge is a funeral dirge 
 
 For that loved one now lost to me. 
 And to gaze o'er the main with longings in vain, 
 
 And to mingle my tears with the wave 
 Which the tides in their sweep shall bear o'er the 
 deep, 
 
 To moisten the grass on her grave. 
 
 It is your promise to be mine. 
 That like some sweet refrain 
 
 Will echo in my heart 
 Till I eome back again. 
 
 And oft when I in slumbers lie. 
 My soul escaping from my breast, 
 
 Will back to Minnie swiftly fly 
 And vigils keep while she's at rest. 
 
 Oh, what in this life is worth living for me 
 When thy face and thy form no longer I see f 
 No music can soothe me, no pleasures delight. 
 When thou art not near me, my life is a blight I 
 
 Then sitting down by Eula's side, 
 I clasp her little hand in mine. 
 
 And while the moments swiftly glide 
 I drink the nectar — love divine! 
 
156 
 
 Go search the world from pole to pole, 
 
 And view mankind in every state ; 
 You'll never find a living sonl, 
 
 Whatever his land whatever his fate, 
 Who has not felt within his breast 
 
 The tides of sorrow ebb and flow, 
 And has not felt, when cares oppressed. 
 
 That mortal man was made for woe. 
 
 And since to earth this queen was bom, 
 The ranks of beauty to adorn, 
 
 With every year more fair she's grown. 
 Till 1 have vowed that little elf 
 
 Shall rule but one, and one alone. 
 And I shall be that one myself. 
 
 And thus my joy in life shall be 
 
 Whilst memory's chain holds firm and true; 
 Altho' your face no more I see. 
 
 To sweetly— sweetly think of you. 
 
 Her lovely cheeks are soft and fair. 
 As ever claimed a poet's thoughts. 
 
 My life is like a ship at sea 
 
 That soon will sink beneath the wave, 
 And sinking leave no sigh or trace 
 
 Of its eternal resting grave. 
 
157 
 
 Old Satan never smiles so bright, 
 Nor darker gloams the frowning skies, 
 
 Than when men split the right in twain 
 And called the action ''compromise.'' 
 
 And in the fields of human life. 
 
 Oft found in humble ways 
 The pure in heart, the mild, and good 
 
 Escape our upward gaze. 
 And in our rush and wild pursuit 
 
 Of best in social skies, 
 We sometimes crush a noble breast 
 
 That heaven itself would prize. 
 
 And when you go to church 
 
 And sit down in er pew. 
 And a gal with monster hat 
 
 Shuts the preacher out from view ; 
 Don't you feel more like cussin' 
 
 Than you do to kneel and pray. 
 Now, really, if you don't. 
 
 Don't you sorter feel that way. 
 
 And you who's fond ob smokin'. 
 May put dis in yer pipe, 
 
 Dat a kicker am a greener 
 Who's seldom ober ripe. 
 
158 
 
 'Tis said that wicked Birmingham 
 
 Is not a friend to grace ; 
 That every dweller in its bounds 
 
 Is heading for that place 
 Where w^aterworks are never known 
 
 And ice supplies are scant, 
 But I don^t think it wholly true, 
 
 I can't, oh, I can't ! 
 
 I don't go much on brag ^nd blow 
 
 And all dat kind ob stuff 
 But when it comes to what I no 
 
 I guess I iloes enuff; 
 I've read the Bible tru and tru 
 
 And Watson's commontater 
 And what I hasn't got from books 
 
 Ise learned from human nater. 
 
 My belubbed cullud brudders 
 
 Havin' lef at home my specks 
 I'll hav ter ax yer pardin' 
 
 Fer not rekdin' ob my tex^; 
 But yer'U find de inspirasion 
 
 Ob what I has ter say. 
 In the pistle ob de postle 
 
 To de church in Africa. 
 
 My words are nuts o' wizdum. 
 Shucked clean ob all de hulls, 
 
 And I hope dey'U find a lodgment 
 In the hollers ob 3^er skulls. 
 
159 
 
 Three cheers sed I fer that great man, 
 
 Who allers holds his tung, 
 And never blows er bout a plan 
 
 Till success ter it is brung. 
 
 (Dude. ) 
 
 I guess the God who made him 
 
 Must have made him for a cause, 
 But really I'm too shallow 
 
 To imagine what it was. 
 His head I know is empty. 
 
 No virtue fills his breast, 
 And of all his mammy's children. 
 
 He loves himself the best. 
 
 Yes, I rudder be er flyin' squirrel 
 Ter fly erwhile and fall, 
 
 Dan ter be a lazy tarepin 
 An' do nothin' else but crawl. 
 
 And I can't help hate a croaker. 
 With his weak an' watery eyes, 
 
 Allers turned toward de groun', 
 Neber raised toward de skies. 
 
l6o 
 (Georgia.) 
 
 And thou hast many mountains grand 
 
 And Yalleys fair to see, 
 And Heaven's sun ne'er shone upon 
 
 A fairer land than thee ; 
 And as thy wandering son returns, 
 
 Resolved no more to roam, 
 He lifts his song in measures strong 
 
 To praise his native home. 
 
 The banner of temperance now widely unfurled 
 Gives cheer to the nation and hope to the world. 
 
 But a calmness like that of a lake in a cave, 
 
 And a peace, undisturbed as the peace of thegrave^ 
 
 Shall reign o'er the land, and the countr^^ will 
 
 seem 
 Like heavenly paradise viewed in a dream ! 
 
 (To Frank Stanton.) 
 
 And love and tenderness and worth, 
 Like flowers that spring from mother earthy 
 Will ever bloom and bud and twine 
 Around the poet's sacred shrine; 
 And thy sweet songs, in sadness sung, 
 Shall live when death has stilled thy tongue. 
 
i6i 
 
 Alabama! Alabama! 
 
 lam dreaming no^w of thee, 
 And I see the trend of thousands, 
 
 Coming from beyond the sea, 
 As they mount upon the billows. 
 
 Streaming through the spray and foam 
 Wildly joyous of the prospect 
 
 Of an Alabama home. 
 And I see within my dreaming, 
 
 Visions of the future cast, 
 That shall overwhelm with brilliance 
 
 All the glories of the past; 
 For I see the spirit, Progress, 
 
 Hovering o^er thee with her wand. 
 At whose lightest touch, responding, 
 
 Wonders burst on every hand. 
 
 And it may be in the future. 
 
 Touched by Time's soft, soothing art, 
 That the blow will be forgotten. 
 
 And love again revive her heart. 
 
 For never yet in any land, 
 Was marshaled out a braver band 
 
 Than those who stood on Southern soil, 
 To battle for their native land. 
 
1 62 
 
 Fair sunny land — home of the brave, 
 
 How wondrous and supremely" blest ! 
 Like billows on tempestuous sea, 
 
 Emotions rise within my breast. 
 And surging with a pathos deep, 
 
 Sweep o'er my soul in currents grand, 
 Whene'er I hear or breathe thy name — 
 
 Sweet Sunny South, my native land ! 
 
 What other land 'neath Heaven's dome, 
 
 By braver men was ever trod ? 
 What other land on earth is known 
 
 So lavishly endowed by God ? 
 Where else on earth such valorous deeds. 
 
 As by our Southern patriots done; 
 And where — oh ! where— such women true, 
 
 As here beneath our Southern sun ? 
 
 And in that last great coming morn. 
 
 When God shall bid all sleepers rise 
 From earth and seas to camps on High, 
 
 Joined hand and heart beyond the skies. 
 In armistice of eternal peace, 
 
 We'll bivouac then amid the stars. 
 And reverence, through eternity. 
 
 The stars and stripes and stars and bars ! 
 
 A man whose noble, chivalrous heart, 
 
 Ne'er hath a pulsing throb 
 That does not beat for fellow-man, 
 
 For country, and for God. 
 
163 
 
 And till the cycling years of time, 
 Have into dark oblivion rolled, 
 All love of home and native land, ^ 
 
 Their valorous deeds will still be told ! 
 
 No human tongue, in words, can frame. 
 
 Nor wreath in thoughts, however bright. 
 The measure of their deathless fame. 
 
 Not even that celestial host, 
 
 Who drove with wrathful thunder dire. 
 The traitor, Satan, and his horde 
 
 From Heaven's cotirts to pits of fire. 
 Was more unselfish, brave and true. 
 
 Than was that grand, heroic band, 
 Who fought beneath the stars and bars. 
 
 For God, for home, and native land I 
 
All ! there^s a poem in her name, 
 
 Loved rose of sweetest Southern fame ! 
 
 In literature's treasure land, 
 
 Crowns, gemmed, await her, pen in hand — 
 
 E'er filled with jeweled thoughts so grand. 
 
 Vain words ne'er find her gifted pen, 
 Imbued with right, ennobling men ; 
 Vernal spring morns are like her ways — 
 In angel looks, her beauty sways. 
 And Virtue's holy smiles (so sweet), 
 Ne'er leave her fairyland retreat. 
 
 Bright one, historian of the heart ! 
 Rich laurel wreaths we bring thy part. 
 Oh! wield thy brush and pen of love. 
 While South, the land that's kissed above, 
 Ne'er loses gems so rare and pure. 
 Long will thy name and works endure; 
 Enshrine her art, oh! Southern sky. 
 Engraft her words where truth can't die! 
 
i65 
 (^^Flames on Flint Ridge/^) 
 
 Easier it is to feign what we do not feel, than to 
 conceal what we do feel. 
 
 She had a smile so sweet that it was a pity she 
 did not smile oftener. 
 
 The Lord sweeten the mouth of that feller that 
 invented the astonishing lie about the trees tip 
 there at Birmingham hanging with old-time frit- 
 ters, and the lakes full of molasses — nothing to do 
 but sop, eat, and sleep and wake up and find your 
 pockets full of dollars, nothing but dollars. 
 
 If we could see adown the flight of years. 
 And know what lies before our way. 
 
 We oft would faint before our cares come on, 
 And have no strength to go on day by day. 
 
 The whippowils have the night to themselves 
 and are filling it with pathos. 
 
 Life is like a flowing river : 
 Men are leaves which on it glide. 
 
 Though they strive and e^er endeavor. 
 They are swept before the tide. 
 
1 66 
 (^^The Affinities/') 
 
 Parting, the twin sister of Death, wafts us 
 a^way on balmy wings. 
 
 Heaven designed that woman should reflect 
 beams of cheerfulness and purity upon the broad- 
 spread waste of life. 
 
 Casting rays of roseate brilliancy, 
 
 What pleases us most does not al^srays make 
 the pot boil. 
 
 It was a regular Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-^ 
 nego experience. 
 
 It will be a constant reminder of the summer 
 days in store for me. 
 
 A flirt is a rosebud from which every lover has 
 plucked a petal, leaving the thorn for the future 
 husband. 
 
1 67 
 
 The air was nectar, the trees marvels of ver- 
 dure, and the flowers sent out a thousand odors 
 of blended sweetness. 
 
 The gold from those dear soft locks has slipped 
 into your heart. 
 
 We may speak of men and angels, but the ac- 
 cents of the heart are uttered in a still, small voice 
 and silence is more golden than applause. 
 
 He shut up the sweet, sad story of his heart, and 
 guarded it as a miser guards his gold. 
 
 He begged to be allowed to insert himself be^ 
 tween those he admired most and loved best. 
 
 It was a moment never to be forgotten, inex* 
 pressibly bitter, yet mingled with a sensation of 
 pleasure so deeply soothing and affecting as at 
 once to awaken and to open the flood-gates of 
 the heart. 
 
 Weighed down by a burden heavier and more ac- 
 cursed than ever borne by so honorable a person. 
 
i68 
 
 Love you — I have been like a man that has 
 fallen in love with a star, and because it was so 
 far above him he prayed for death if that might 
 bring him nearer it. 
 
 A silence more eloquent than language. 
 
 It was told with the quiet conviction of one 
 who utters an eternal truth. 
 
 Hidden in one of the world^s Plebian corners. 
 
 All regret was sweetened by a dreamy hint of 
 summer days, the future held in store. Within 
 her mind she faintly heard the refrain of a poem 
 whose mystic, passionate lines were bom of the 
 mocking birds song and the perfume of flowers. 
 
 Night spread her pitying wings more closely 
 around the scene; while beneath the throbbing 
 stars the flowers bent their heads in sorrow under 
 the trembling kiss of the dewdrop. 
 
169 
 
 Never did a soldier obey the orders of his com- 
 mander more willingly than they did the mandates 
 of a guardian angel that had come, sweet as the 
 tinkling of fairy bells, breathing the soul-inspiring 
 word — hope. 
 
 If we could only begin life with the experience 
 that is beat into us before its close, what a world 
 of mistakes and troubles would be avoided ! 
 
 A seventh heaven of delightful expectancy. 
 
 Oh ! blessed sunlight that enwrapped them as 
 they stood there covered with that light which 
 was never *^on sea or on land/^ They had entered 
 into a realm where they measured not their wealth 
 by acres, nor counted it down in real gold. 
 
 This thought, like one draught in the wilderness, 
 was to be refreshment to her heart duringthelong 
 waste of life before her. 
 
 Envy, the incurable cancer of the soul, like the 
 deadly upas tree, destroys with its noxious breath 
 every fair flower that would bloom in the human 
 heart. 
 
 12 
 
170 
 
 Nothing can doom us to a life of misery on 
 earth if we have a quickened conscience and follow 
 its dictates. 
 
 If we look up we will find radiant stars of cheer 
 and comfort twinkling in the sky of existence. 
 
 A melancholy mind imparts a gloomy tinge to 
 everything around it. 
 
 No tender wife will ever twine loving arms 
 around my neck and shed tears of sympathy, or 
 illumine my path with her smiles. 
 
 Would not vows which rob people of their peace 
 and becloud their hope of heaven be better broken 
 than kept? 
 
 It is a grand nature to lose sight of self and be- 
 come interested in the aspirations of others. 
 
 The kind things said of us are life's sunshine. 
 
 I trust you will cease to regard as an enemy the 
 one person in all the world who is most anxious 
 to befriend vou. 
 
171 
 
 Any and all hcnest labor that will contribute to 
 my comfort will be honest and sweet to me. 
 
 She unconsciously scatters rose leaves and balm 
 plants in the paths of all with whom she comes in 
 contact. 
 
 You have that in your face which authorizes 
 trust. 
 
 Within the sacred empire of the soul. 
 
 Charity ! charity ! where have you hidden your 
 beautiful face in these days of almighty dollars? 
 
 What a magnificent mind ! intuitively correct 
 like a woman^s, but competent of reasoning like a 
 man^s. Loving, tender, and true, yet capable of 
 stern justice. 
 
 Follow the banner of the good knight— sincerity, 
 
:^^'-<Y 
 
 Rich legacy of Southern trust ! 
 
 Untiring work has kept from dust 
 
 Both name and thoughts from her so bright 
 
 Young master of the pen of might. 
 
 Bold warrior for the Southern pen ! 
 Each plan is voiced and caught again 
 'Round Dixie's clime, and soon 'twill tell. 
 Yield long, cute verse, and books as well. 
 Loved one, proud Birmingham's sweet belle. 
 
 Keep watching. South, thy rising star, 
 Your hopes of such rare genius are; 
 Long treasure works of her bright name, 
 Enroll her on the scroll of Fame. 
 
173 
 
 (*^Paul St. Paul/^) 
 
 Pale cameo streams wandered from the mother 
 heart of sunset coloring, and through their film, 
 stars gleamed like rose diamonds. 
 
 She aspires to be a second Dickens and her char- 
 acters are hollow shells without the echo of the 
 
 sea. 
 
 Surprises are the sparkle of existence. 
 
 Made of themselves serfs to attend her smiles 
 and wishes. 
 
 They sat all absorbed in the sweet intercourse of 
 spoken love. 
 
 God keep you pure and sinless, sweet child, and 
 give you death rather than dishonor. 
 
 Centuries, cycles, milleniums, and eons weigh 
 down this time-worn globe ; and yet love never 
 tires of rehearsing her many tragic plays in the 
 sphere of human hearts. 
 
174 
 
 Her calm, sweet smile descended like a benedic- 
 tion upon his wild unrest. 
 
 Love, with the velvet sheen of its divinity, half 
 vanished in pale language. 
 
 In her heart was a living grave, enshrining a 
 living corpse. 
 
 Virtue which thrives in questionable places beg- 
 gars words for description. It is as white as the 
 ivory battlements around the throne of God. No 
 star is half so pure. It is Heaven incarnated in 
 an earthly mould. 
 
 Love means the enslaving of the talents which 
 make men famous. 
 
 Make the gift sweet with a smile, 
 
 What right had pale day to chalk the tresses of 
 jet and throve drops of languor into those lustrous 
 orbs. 
 
175 
 
 The weeping willows were at their eternal 
 prayers. 
 
 Not a single jewel marred the gorgeous sim- 
 plicity of her attire. 
 
 A veil of satiny, yellow hair, that mocked the 
 very hues of gold, wreathed the slender form in a 
 shroud of sunshine; the face was as fair as one 
 of RaphaeFs dreaming angels; twin stars, having 
 lost their way in the Heavens had taken refuge 
 underneath snowy lids, and a ruby had left its 
 blood upon her lips. 
 
 The marble fragments of other days had been 
 for years stowed away in the dead-veined hollows 
 of the past. 
 
 It ^vas summer in her heart though winter winds 
 raged fearlessly across the bare breast of groaning 
 earth. 
 
 The ashes of the seared years that were gone 
 fell from the fender. 
 
176 
 
 The ravishing airs from the first violin of God's 
 heavenly orchestra, whose pathos shakes the very 
 pillars of the spheres, were not loud enough to 
 penetrate the icy rind of his soul. 
 
 Wild rich curls of jet clustered above a high 
 Grecian brow and watched the midnight glow of 
 splendid eyes ; soul-deep eyes of darkest night in 
 whose fathomless depths slumbered Promethean 
 fires. 
 
 Silently memory turned the leaA^es of life's bril- 
 liant book, traversing complacently the shining isles 
 of the dear dead past. The year now fast slipping 
 through Time's greedy fingers was rife with pleasure 
 for Lim and full of Ambition's dearest consum- 
 mation — Success. Fame, fickle goddess, had re- 
 mained steadfast by his side through the vicissi- 
 tudes of an uncertain career. 
 
 I loved her so much until it seemed that such a 
 passion could not have been the growth of a life- 
 time. I knew her in another world and loved her 
 there almost as dearly as in this. 
 
 The ice-bound years had lusted for the peach- 
 bloom on the cheek of memory. 
 
177 
 
 A tear which did honor to strong manhood, 
 trembled on his cheek. 
 
 We have succeeded admirably in wasting a half 
 hour. 
 
 He was being refined in the crucible into 
 which destiny casts a man whenever it wishes to 
 make a scoundrel or a demi-god. 
 
 Sorrow is the great lapidary who is constantly 
 employed in polishing and refining the soul. 
 Trouble embalms virtue in strong minds. 
 
 To forget often means to remember. To be 
 faithless often means to be true. 
 
 Never while I have the heart to appreciate and 
 the soul to pray for you, shall I forget your good- 
 ness to me. 
 
 Too much learning in a lady's composition is as 
 unpardonable as a waste of sugar and spice in a 
 chicken pie. 
 
178 
 
 He was going through one of those terrible 
 trials from which the weak come forth infamous 
 and the strong sublime. 
 
 Pity in a woman is queen of every emotion. 
 
 The eyes were fixed in a dreamy content. 
 
 The stars had been sifted from the chariot 
 wheels of night, all over the higher meadow, and 
 the moon was leading the milky way in a minuet 
 along the sky. 
 
 Dian beautiful? Her fair face glowed like a 
 ruby in the sun ; brunette night had poured her 
 ink upon the head of her loveliest votary ; and 
 growing fonder still, emptied the bottle into the 
 eyes of her mistress. 
 
 Ordained of fame and loved of earth, 
 And then of Heaven's choosing. 
 
 There is no grander, sweeter dream — 
 No higher, dearer, better theme 
 
 Than Heaven gained ; through ego losing, 
 
IP ■ » > kwi ' t rm 
 
 Are Southland's lilies turned to verse, 
 Bound fondly in a language terse. 
 
 Mock -birds no sweeter songs can sing — 
 Each poem thrills with patriot-ring : 
 E'er will ^^Songs of the South'' be known,- 
 Keepsake of each proud Southern home. 
 
 (^^SoNGs AND Poems of the South.") 
 
 The homes of Alabama, 
 
 How beautiful they rise 
 Throughout her queenly quiet realm , 
 
 Beneath her smiling skies ! 
 The richest odors fill the breeze, 
 
 Her valleys teem with wealth, 
 And the homes of Alabama 
 
 Are the rosy homes of health. 
 
i8o 
 
 Ob, come to the South, 
 The shrine of the sun, 
 
 And dwell in its homes, 
 Sweet, beautiful one ! 
 
 Girl of the Sunny South, 
 Bright, round thy rosy mouth. 
 
 Dimples and smiles are at play ; 
 Sweet in thy fountain eyes. 
 Mirrored, the azure skies, 
 
 Tell us of angels and Heaven alway. 
 
 Then pledge to-night their memories bright, 
 
 Our noble Southern mothers ! 
 Who in the strife — maid, mother, wife — 
 
 Stood by their sons and brothers ! 
 
 And the locks that swing back, as she swings in 
 
 the breeze. 
 Are dark as the raven's wing, seen through the 
 
 trees ; 
 The bloom of the peach on her round cheek is 
 
 spread ; 
 Her lips, half apart, dim'the holly's pure red ; 
 And her^eyes, flashing wildly when with gladness 
 
 they shine, 
 Have the dark liquid glow of the ripe muscadine. 
 
i8i 
 
 Voluptuous spring ! in this soft Southern clime, 
 With prodigality of birds and flowers ; 
 
 Droop down thy willows, Southern land ! 
 
 Thy bard, thine orator, is dead. 
 He sleeps where broad magnolias stand, 
 
 With ^'summer roses'^ o^er his head ; 
 The lordly river, sweeping by, 
 
 Curves round his grave, ^th solemn sigh ; 
 And from yon twinkling orange stem. 
 The mock-bird pours his requiem ! 
 
 Bard of the South ! the *^ Summer Rose'* 
 May perish with the ^* Autumn Leaf;'* 
 
 The footprints left on Tampa's shores, 
 May vanish with a date as brief ; 
 
 But thine shall be the life of fame. 
 
 No winter winds can wreck thy name, 
 And future minstrels shall rehearse 
 Thy virtues in memorial verse! 
 
Most rare and beautiful your rhymes ! 
 Arrayed in noble, tender thought, 
 Rich melody of music chimes 
 Your airs, in graceful sweetness fraught. 
 
 When fame descends from mountain heights. 
 Around which brilliant star-souls shine, 
 Rewarding unpretentious lights, 
 Enwreathed will be the verse of thine. 
 
 We looked upon the sky and earth. 
 
 And all did seem so fair 
 We wondered that so bright a place 
 
 Could be the home of care. 
 The music of the running brook, 
 
 We fashioned into song ; 
 And gathered whispers from the winds 
 
 To bear its notes along. 
 
1 83 
 
 And pity 'tis that hearts should learn — 
 Such trusting hearts as ours — 
 
 That sin and sorrow left their blight 
 Upon earth's fairest flowers. 
 
 When nature in a merry mood, 
 
 Is singing her own praises — 
 When every dainty dimpled dell 
 
 Laughs with its wealth of daisies ; 
 When all the bright-eyed flowervS seem 
 
 To smile in baby wonder, 
 And fling their kisses to the breeze, 
 
 And nod, and gravely ponder ; 
 When all the little stars that blink 
 
 In heaven's blue above us, 
 Are telling in their own sweet way, 
 
 How very much they love us — 
 And every smiling face we meet 
 
 Is true as Heaven meant it — 
 Oh, is it but reflected light, 
 
 Or was it God that sent it? 
 
 Her life untrammeled b^^ the arts 
 Of fashion's busy whirl, — \ 
 
 Though portionless and little known. 
 Give me the country girl ! 
 
1 84 
 (St. Augustine.) 
 
 In the dreamy land of stimnier, 
 
 Where s^weet nature ever smiles, 
 Where her laughing face is dimpled » 
 
 With a thousand sunlit skies; 
 Where the voice of ocean ^s ever 
 
 Freighted with a wealth of sighs, 
 And the tall palmetto ^s creeping 
 
 Nearer to the bending skies ; 
 In that land of song and story, 
 
 Rich with legendar3^ lore, — 
 Like a ghost of the departed, 
 
 Seems that ancient town of yore, 
 Pointing with historic fingers 
 Where the dust of ages lingers. 
 
From Mrs. Zula B. Cook's "Writings. 
 
 Each goodly deed forms a strong link which the 
 Trusty Guide is forming to draw us to the Mount 
 of Love and Peace. 
 
 Disentomb your mind from theearth of illiteracy, 
 cleanse it daily with brush of studious application, 
 and soon its natural sagacities will ascend by suc- 
 cessive grades into the brightest elements of re- 
 finement. 
 
 Why endeavor to avenge the maltreatment of 
 any, when silence manifests an indifferent superi- 
 ority nobler far than open revenge. 
 
 Modesty is a canopy under ^which every woman 
 should walk who would escape the scorching rays 
 of criticism. 
 
 I've a fault to match yours and I cease to [com- 
 plain. 
 I would like to remove each incision of pain ; 
 I am ready to come, won't you meet me halfway? 
 When you're guilty of wrong, aren't you willino:to 
 
 pay? 
 
 13 
 
i86 
 
 A blissful marriage is a dipthong uniting two 
 human vowels into one svllable of accord. 
 
 Do unkind words befall where compassion should 
 
 win? 
 
 Are your deeds sweet with justness or bitter with 
 
 sin? 
 Do your hands meekly toil or impatiently stay? 
 Do your feet walk aright or oft lead astray? 
 
 No power on earth can recall the spirit of virtue 
 on wing. 
 
 The fairest life scene, the truest life-tie 
 About the old home unceasingly lie ; 
 No grief half so mild, no pleasure so great, 
 As viewing old home in permanent state. 
 
 Sweet are those lips which speak no ill, 
 And every heart-moan seek to still ; 
 With kisses deep, and whisp'rings soft. 
 They bring to us earth-glories oft. 
 God bless them — would all life were blest 
 TVith loving lips and love-calm rest. 
 
 A young face istheasterismof ahappyhomelife. 
 
i87 
 
 Love is the axis on which the wheels of purest 
 life revolve. 
 
 Recognizing questionable character is equal to 
 an open ballot of approval. 
 
 Keep the rifts from your heart, keep it ever apart. 
 
 From the chiseling and boring of hate; 
 With disruption well stayed no repairs can be made^ 
 
 And you'll never be sighing ^'too late/' 
 
 (Failure.) 
 
 Shall I crouch beneath the weaponed monster? 
 
 Shall I shed my heart's blood for his greed? 
 Shall I clasp my hands and poise then upward, 
 
 Plead surrender that I may be freed? 
 Tho' his dagger-blade may pierce my bosom 
 
 Thrice — yea, thrice again— I'll struggling rise ! 
 Failure? No. With courage now I'll journey, 
 
 Upward, battling to the victor's skies. 
 
 Deep midnight tears, dark midnight tears ! 
 Oh ! how the heart quails 'neath its sears ! 
 None seeth save that Wakeful Eye ; 
 Or heareth e'er the pain- wrung sigh. 
 He only lifts our lashing fears — 
 Bids comfort follow midnight tears. 
 
From '^Wayside Glkanings/' 
 by mrs. francis jansenius. 
 
 Of all things beautiful and grand, 
 If I could a choice be given, 
 Let music charm me last on earth 
 
 And greet my spirit first in Heaven. 
 
 Beneath thy darksome waters safely keep 
 The many treasures of the mighty deep ; 
 We love thy ceaseless, changing, wild unrest; 
 Thy peaceful calm or foaming ocean crest. 
 Majestic, grand, and awful in thy powers we 
 
 know. 
 Yet enchanting, beauteous Gulf of Mexico ! 
 
 The advice I would give is to do as you please; 
 Your mind, if you have one, will feel more at ease. 
 But expect at each turn to meet all kinds of scandal, 
 Andif you try tostop themyou'resoou inatangle. 
 For people most surely will talk. 
 
 The dream is past, I grieve no more. 
 Each tender thought of you has fled ; 
 
 Not all the wealth of India's mines, 
 Would tempt me now with you to wed 
 
1 89 
 
 My every day and hour of life 
 I lived for you and you alone, 
 
 And in my sacred heart of hearts, 
 You dwelt as king upon a throne. 
 
 We sat beneath a lofty pine 
 
 After a sultry summer day, 
 Cupid sat listening overhead 
 
 To hear what lovers had to say : 
 He will not tell, and so you see 
 
 That talk was just for him and me. 
 Heart spoke to heart that dewy eve 
 
 In language tongue cannot express ; 
 He sought a promise which I gave, 
 
 He sealed it with a warm caress ' 
 Cupid approved, and so you see 
 
 That love was just for him and tne. 
 
 Life is like a weary waiting 
 For a day that never dawns, 
 
 When our hearts will be contented 
 And all vexing cares be gone. 
 
 Poetry should be such as to call forth the purest, 
 holiest thoughts and highest aspirations of the 
 soul and harmonize with the pui^st, tenderest 
 chords of our natures. 
 
 Even the sad events of life are brightened when 
 set to the flow of a pleasant rhyme. 
 
From ^^ Songs of the South/' 
 by miss mary gordon duffee. 
 
 Lone and low in the South, hke a star in the 
 Heavens above, 
 The orange hangs in a glory of gold on the trees. 
 
 A land where summer sleeps in the shade of the 
 palm. 
 
 Come not with your harp to awaken a hope that 
 is fled. 
 
 They Hst to the music of Heaven; we, only to 
 strains of regret. 
 
 The waves flow on, as the heartless world, when a 
 soul goes down. 
 
 Ill think of thee in e^^ery hour 
 
 I pass the lonely spot. 
 Where Earth wears on her breast the flower 
 
 They call Forget-me-not. 
 
191 
 
 You talk of the fragrance of flowers, the beauty 
 of skies overhead ; 
 Do the roses carven on marble, so pure and so fair, 
 Yield unto the heart that bends over them the per- 
 fume of hope that is fled ? 
 Better dream of the days that await us, the bud 
 and the bloom over there ! 
 
 I shall walk in the shadows, down the lonely land 
 of regret. 
 
 Fond memory wove a magic spell 
 Of other scenes and other years. 
 
 Of those who loved us, and who left 
 Us — parted in the realm of tears. 
 
 The night that domes our Southern sky. 
 Reflects its image in thine eye. 
 And love breathes in thy tender sigh. 
 Sweet rose of Alabama ! 
 
From ^'Fickle Fate." 
 by mrs. alice kate roland. 
 
 As there are lights and shades in the clonds, and 
 tints and hues belonging to the landscape, which 
 no artist has ever found coloring to portray, so 
 there are heart-sorrows which no pen, however 
 eloquent, has ever described. 
 
 The human heart can no more live without love^ 
 than the flowers without the refreshing raindrops. 
 
 It is for the sake of being pleasing to you that I 
 would look beautiful. 
 
 The room was a poem within itself, combining 
 the harmonies of both arrangement and design. 
 
 To know you better would be to realize the dear- 
 est wish of my life. 
 
 Films of white frost mantled the trees with a 
 crystal armor. 
 
193 
 
 In the sullen noise of the waves, an answering 
 voice would speak to me in deep tones, lulling me 
 into a calm content. 
 
 Thus we spent many such happy, idlehours, and 
 time fled with the rapidity it displays when no im- 
 portant event occurs to mark its course, and each 
 day being so full of tranquility, that we forgot to 
 look forward or backward. 
 
 A low breeze sang among the branches, like a 
 harp accompaniment to the songs of birds. 
 
 The poor woman looked the thoughts she could 
 not speak. 
 
 Their bright eyes and flower-like lips vied with 
 the flashing gems and blushing roses, with which 
 they were adorned. 
 
 It mattered not how I was occupied, there 
 floated before my mental vision a fair face, whose 
 features were of the most exquisite moulding, and 
 whose head was covered with a wealth of dusky, 
 golden hair. 
 
From Miss Veni McDonald's Writings. 
 
 If it be only a bird's nest or an Arab's tent in 
 the desert, there is no place like home. 
 
 It is when we are glad that we want the day ; 
 but when pain-struck and weary, we ask only for 
 some place in which to hide — somewhere that the 
 soul can sHp for a while the restraints of the body 
 and stand face to face with itself. Long ago in 
 compassionate pre-knowledge of this, the dear 
 sympathizing God said : *'Let there be night as 
 well as day," and since then into the sympathetic 
 ear of the dark, have been sobbed the secrets of 
 all the restless and grief -laden of earth. 
 
 All that we know or feel or breathe of agony is 
 found in the death of those we truly love. Words 
 may express thoughts hut feelings never. 
 
 Each heart keeps its diary and in it are pages 
 turned down and blotted with tears for dear re- 
 membered dead. 
 
 When strains of lovely music die away, they 
 must go to Heaven. 
 
195 
 
 When we receive our slight cuts and bruises in 
 life there is generally an outcry and plenty of 
 sympathy. But when we receive our deep wounds 
 — those that leave scars — often only God knows ; 
 and is it not best? For He can heal^ while our 
 best friends can only probe. 
 
 The heart cannot relinquish its habits half as 
 readily as the mind. 
 
 For every one that sits idle and lets the world 
 go by, there is a burden-bearer who assumes the 
 duties and responsibilities which the rightful 
 owner shirks. 
 
 Thoughtlessness is no excuse for a creature en- 
 dowed with a brain and a heart. 
 
 We should not endeavor to purify and make 
 better our lives because, coward-like, we are 
 afraid to displease God, but because He loves us 
 and has redeemed us with an immeasurable dem- 
 onstration of this love. 
 
From The Poems of Miss Sallie W. Oden. 
 
 'Tis not a human's lot below 
 To anchor all his ships afar 
 Within Fruition's vale; and so 
 
 1 grieve not when they sink, but know 
 
 Them in thy care, my Guiding Star. 
 
 Misfortune may weight the spirit 
 That's bound in narrow spheres ; 
 
 But the one of real merit 
 Will rise above his cares. 
 
 The cares that try our souls below, 
 
 In mercy s^weet are given. 
 That we may overcome and know 
 
 Them stepping-stones to Heaven. 
 And sweet it is to sit and dream. 
 
 Amid earth's sunset glare, 
 Of home beyond the icy stream, 
 
 I shall inherit there. 
 Beyond the bars — 
 
 Beyond the glorious sunset bars. 
 This nether-sun I know some day, 
 
 Into the west will fade 
 
 To rise again no more for aye. 
 In brilliant light arrayed ; 
 
197 
 
 I am so weak and small, and yet 
 When suns have ceased to shine 
 
 And moons and stars for aye have set. 
 Eternity is mine — 
 
 Beyond the bars — 
 Beyond the widening sunset bars. 
 
 Whatever is, is well ; there are no flaws 
 To mar the great eternal plan, 
 
 By which all things are subject to the laws 
 That mould the destiny of man. 
 
 'Tis well we cannot walk the way alone 
 And all our hope is borrowed might ; 
 
 Would we could blindly trust the Stronger One, 
 And know whatever is, is right. 
 
 Oh, happy he who ever does his best 
 In all the paths of rugged ways ! 
 
 He knows no sting regret but peace and rest 
 In consciousness of well-spent days. 
 
198 
 
 In the silence and the grandeur 
 
 Of a midnight all alone, 
 Tread I in the sweet illusion 
 
 That the past is back again. 
 Oh I the Angels of the bj^-gones, 
 
 Hold a charm for souls contrite, 
 Though the night be clothed in shadows 
 
 And the spirits w^alk in white. 
 
From Mrs. J. B. Lennard's Poems, 
 (^^evola/') 
 
 To-day in graves in distant land, 
 
 While fame her watch doth keep, 
 Untended by a kindred hand, 
 
 Some fallen heroes sleep. 
 And through the coming tide of years, 
 
 Where rest the gallant dead, 
 Will woman ^s tribute — flowVs and tears^ 
 
 Bedeck their lonely bed . 
 Where laurels bloom and ivies twine, 
 
 And winds sigh sad refrain ; 
 Where moan the cypress and the pine, 
 
 Lie some in battle slain ; 
 Sleep on ye noble sainted dead ! 
 
 High on the scroll of fame, 
 (Tho^ marble shaft ne^er mark your bed) 
 
 Will be each hero's name ! 
 
 In this sinful world of woes 
 Things are all not what they seem ; 
 
 Oft beneath the surface flows 
 Sorrow's dark and turbid stream. 
 
200 
 
 Then let's rejoice with trembHng hope, 
 **Take Hfe as hfe is given '^ — 
 
 Our sorrows here the gate may ope 
 That leads the way to Heaven. 
 
 Summer flowers twice have come, 
 With sweet off'erings for his tomb ; 
 Autumn winds, with solemn round, 
 Twice have strewn the leaves around. 
 And Winter, wath his ice-bound clasp. 
 Twice has come, like Death ^s cold grasp ; 
 And yet we know no gentle Spring, 
 To us again our loved will bring ! 
 
From ^^Lagonisms.'' 
 
 BY DR. J. M. p. OTTS. 
 
 The secret of success consists in the wisdom that 
 discovers the mistakes of to-day , and corrects them 
 in the work of to-morrow. 
 
 A good woman is an angel without wings. She 
 does not fly from men, but walks with them, and 
 leads them to good. 
 
 Every man has his peculiarities. A man without 
 peculiarities would be the most peculiar of men. 
 
 Fools hate the good man who seeks their good, 
 and love the flatterer who seeks their goods. 
 
 Some speak evil of others as a kind of indirect 
 self-praise. 
 
 14 
 
202 
 
 The reason that some give so little to send the 
 gospel to others is because they get so little of it 
 themselves. 
 
 It is the highest form of originality to say what 
 everybody knows, and yet something that nobody 
 ever said before. 
 
 Nobody admires the man of many words ; every- 
 body loves the man of his word. 
 
 When men come to believe that there is no good- 
 ness on earth, they will soon begin to fancy that 
 there is no God in heaven. 
 
 It is much easier to love the negro when he is a 
 thousand miles away, than when he is your next 
 
 door neighbor. 
 
203 
 
 Thought is the sap of life, love its flower, and 
 action its fruit. 
 
 When Columbus discovered the Orinoco River, 
 he said: ^^No such river as this can flow from an 
 island. Such a stream must drain the water of a 
 continent.*' Considering what the Bible is and 
 w^hat it has done for the world, one must say : 
 ^^No such book as this can flow from the mind of 
 man; it must be a stream that issues from the 
 fountain of divine wisdom and love. 
 
PARTING WORDS. 
 
 My kind, dear reader, the time has come forns 
 to say au revoir, I sincerely trust that some of 
 these ^' Echoes^' from my heart, through the rever- 
 berations of sympathy, have caused, at least, some 
 low re-echoes of kindness, tenderness, aspiration, 
 nobleness, and love from your own heart, all having 
 a tendency to rekindle the flames of love, start 
 the sparks of hope flying heavenward, soothe life, 
 and ennoble the soul. 
 
 May the excelsior whispers of your better soul 
 tell vou : 
 
 And 
 
 ^^It is not all of life to live. 
 Nor all of death to die;'' 
 
 ^* Lives of great men all remind us, 
 We can make our lives sublime." 
 
205 
 
 May the voice of hope cheer you, may the calm 
 of love soothe you,may the consciousness of virtue 
 ennoble you, may the word of God guide you, and 
 may the blood of Christ redeem you. 
 
 And now, kind friend, if our paths through life 
 are so widely separated that w^e can never meet 
 and exchange the warm grasp of friendship, may 
 we both so live that after our life-work is ended, 
 we can meet on the balmy shores of the Sweet 
 Beyond. 
 
"^m 
 
 ,W.^'jj'^,?,Y. OF. CONGRESS 
 
 015 909 236 7