I 
 
Class IE3_i_10i_ 
 Copyright N^ 
 
 COPYRrCHT DEPOSIT. 
 
POEMS. 
 
POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 GERTRUDE LEONARD ADAMS 
 
 EDITED BV 
 
 M^WINCHESTER ADAMS 
 
 Author "'Polly,' sBd other Poems," "Pathwayo, and other Poems' 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 FRANCIS W. ORVIS 
 1907 
 
[UBRARY of CONdHESSJ 
 Two Copies Rweived 
 
 DEC 19 1907 
 
 CoByrlgst tntry 
 ACOPT B. 
 
 ^c,zb^\ 
 
 ^-v 
 
 
 Copyright 1907 
 
 by 
 
 M. Winchester Adams. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
To 
 
 Marie, Lois, Doris, 
 
 Enid, Ted, 
 
 'Little" Elizabeth and Hilda. 
 
Write, if thou writest but one line, 
 
 And perchance, it may be 
 Its happy thought, through endless yeaurs 
 
 Shall live and speak for thee. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 A Dedication For A Scrap Book 123 
 
 A Bird's Lament 96 
 
 A Fragment 97 
 
 A Kindergarten Song 142 
 
 A Lullaby 175 
 
 A Song 93 
 
 A Single Page 131 
 
 A Tribute 30 
 
 Advice 177 
 
 Answered 126 
 
 Apple Blossoms 199 
 
 Aspirations 73 
 
 After Many Days 48 
 
 Betty Antoinette 33 
 
 Beyond 21 
 
 Birthday Thoughts 132 
 
 Birthday Wishes 128 
 
 Bonnets and Sonnets 150 
 
 Brookside 85 
 
 Castles 185 
 
 Change 197 
 
 Childhood Days 105 
 
 Could We 163 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Day Dreams g_ 
 
 Dreams 
 
 Do Not Delay ,5 
 
 Evening Hymn ^ 
 
 Fames Reward g:^■ 
 
 Fancies 
 Far Away 
 
 Marie 
 
 March 
 Meditation 
 Moving- Dav 
 
 66 
 90 
 
 Forget Me Not jog 
 
 Fragment 
 
 Gentle Connecticut -^ 
 
 Gtoria In Excelsis ^g 
 
 Grandma's Treasures ,yg 
 
 Highland Lake ,.. 
 
 Highland Maid ,^7 
 
 Honeysuckle Dell 
 
 Hymn ^ 
 
 Imagination g 
 
 Impressions _^ 
 
 Imprisoned g^ 
 
 In Thought -^ 
 
 June Is Dying ^^ 
 
 Let In The Sunshme u- 
 
 Life And Death jg. 
 
 Life's Best 
 
 Lines 
 
 Look Up 
 
 Love 
 
 143 
 62 
 
 94 
 
 ~ 34 
 
 Love's Power jo^ 
 
 26 
 133 
 
 45 
 189 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Mt. Tom 
 Music 
 
 November 
 
 57 
 145 
 
 My Dolly 200 
 
 My Sailor Boy 179 
 
 Nannette Lee 69 
 
 Nameless Graves 84 
 
 New Year Bells -jy 
 
 New Year Song 201 
 
 Nothing- Wasted 25 
 
 127 
 
 On Life's Sea 'j2 
 
 Passaic Boating Song 43 
 
 Peu-a-Peu 75 
 
 Poetry Versus Dining 42 
 
 Questionings 71 
 
 Rue 83 
 
 Selma's Violin 63 
 
 Serenade Anita 169 
 
 Sibyl 70 
 
 Spring 171 
 
 Such A Little Child 176 
 
 Sunshine And Shadow 76 
 
 Stilly Night 157 
 
 Summer Roses 99 
 
 Sympathy 29 
 
 Some Of My Genealogy 183 
 
 Tell Me 24 
 
 The Answer 58 
 
 The Waif 193 
 
 The Blind Wisher 165 
 
 The Bell 35 
 
 The Bowl of Marigolds 153 
 
 The Chimes 118 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Chimney Qimber 151 
 
 The Dance loi 
 
 The Easter Lilies 49 
 
 The Great Musician 44 
 
 The Jewel 51 
 
 The Jolly Grocer 190 
 
 The Mill 27 
 
 The Miser 109 
 
 The Nightmare 103 
 
 The Old New England Homestead 79 
 
 The Past 154 
 
 The Pasteboard Box 173 
 
 The Phantom Form 134 
 
 The Poet's Inspiration 159 
 
 The Reply 141 
 
 The Seasons 149 
 
 The Sleigh-ride 195 
 
 The Spanish Maid 119 
 
 The Two Roses 61 
 
 The Village 161 
 
 The Valentine 107 
 
 The Wanderer 155 
 
 The Winco-pipe 78 
 
 The Wind Storm 191 
 
 There's A Maid In The Mist 121 
 
 Time 31 
 
 Time's Changes 147 
 
 To Elsie 74 
 
 To My Father I44 
 
 "Tots" 170 
 
 Trudy 187 
 
 Two Views 129 
 
 Underneath The Clover 53 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Violets 47 
 
 Volunteer i8i 
 
 Where Dwell The Gods 8l 
 
 Wherefore 95 
 
 Which Best 65 
 
 Who Would You Marry 124 
 
 Youth 98 
 
POEMS. 
 
 BEYOND. 
 
 Oh, had we strength of vision, with calm eyes 
 To pierce the future, doubting never, but 
 Leaning only on our own endeavor, 
 And, in the courage of our souls, behold 
 The far-land of the coming day ! Beyond— 
 Oh, but to part the opalescent blue 
 That with its wavering unsteady light 
 Bewilders all. Disarm the present hour 
 Of its enamoring, silvery sheen 
 And let the glorious, ever changing 
 Qualities of soul and brain, illumine 
 Like a queen, the ever opening way! 
 Heart fuses heart, and intellect may sway 
 The world. The gold of Croesus hath powerj 
 But never can it give to hearts the fire 
 
 21 
 
BEYOND. 
 
 Of youth. It cannot bring back wasted hopei 
 That circled, Hke a fairy wreath, the brow 
 Of Love. Nor will the warmth of rosebud lip;. 
 Respond to yellow gold. Oh, God, what strange 
 And unknown land is this, Thou callest Earth, 
 Where men, women, babes and little children 
 Pass to and fro, through the panorama 
 Of a day, whose morrow is as distant 
 As long past cycles of forgotten years! 
 Wherefore are we accountable who are 
 The children of vain circumstance? The past — 
 What of the past ? For who, in very truth, 
 Dares say 'tis stored in household of the gods, 
 There to be meted out in good or ill. 
 When all is o'er. The future, like heaven, 
 We die to gain, may a delusion prove. 
 Whose opal light of hope forever lures 
 The mariners in quest of fairer lands, 
 Of brighter scenes, of truer loves. Beyond — ■ 
 Why care we where it leads, if in the strength 
 And grandeur of our imier lives, there dwell 
 But that composure, trustfulness and love 
 Of man, to help attain the perfect hour 
 To-day. What of the future ? What were gold. 
 If hearts were all at strife ? Or what were love, 
 If we forget to speak the word to ears 
 That barken? Or palaces, if marble 
 Halls and archways but coldly sounded back 
 
 22 
 
BEYOND. 
 
 In mocking tones our every footstep? 
 Or what were plighted vows, if from them came 
 Fulfillment never ? Or what were our homes, 
 If from true love came not the little loves 
 To gladden our lives? Or what were sickness, 
 With no fond hand to comfort? Or e'en death. 
 With but the grave to be our final home? 
 What then is wealth ! The hour, the perfect hour 
 Is now. Now is the day to live and love, 
 And in the present to attain the wealth 
 Of days that never can return, of days 
 That are going. The future — What of that ? 
 Whoso can tell? 
 
 23 
 
TELL ME. 
 
 Are our dreams but firefly fancies, 
 Perfume laden of the past? 
 
 Are our hopes but showy baubles 
 That soon petish, can not last? 
 
 Are our loved ones only idols, 
 
 And their sweet souls merely breath? 
 
 Is there really no hereafter ? 
 Does our living end with death ? 
 
 Tell me, then, the use of living 
 Working on from day to day ? 
 
 Ah! the soul is surely better 
 Than the body made of clay! 
 
 So I'll just go on believing. 
 And my help to others give. 
 
 Tell me what's the use of doubting 
 There's another life to live? 
 
 24 
 
NOTHING WASTED. 
 
 Talk not of the June that is ended, 
 
 Nor yet of the day that is past ; 
 Talk not as if love here is wasted 
 
 It all will be garnered at last. 
 
 Let hope in thy heart live forever, 
 Let thy love and joy be supreme, 
 
 Let trust in thy Maker be greater. 
 Make life like a beautiful dream. 
 
 Weep not for the rose that is faded. 
 Sigh not for the sunbeam so bright, 
 
 Another will gladden the morrow 
 With just as resplendent a light. 
 
 Take courage dear heart in thy journey 
 "Thy reward love's labor shall be ;" 
 
 Be firm and life's purposeful efforts 
 For good shall bear witness for thee. 
 
 Then, when we have passed from this life work 
 
 To the work in the life above. 
 We shall know that nothing was wasted 
 
 Neither June, nor roses, nor love. 
 
 25 
 
MARIE. 
 
 There dwells within my cottage 
 By the brook and old beech tree, 
 
 A dainty little maiden 
 
 Who is only half past three. 
 
 Her hair is like bright amber, 
 Her cheeks like the roses red, 
 
 Her winsome happy laughter 
 
 Cheers my heart when day is fled. 
 
 She sweeps the hearthstone daily 
 With a dove's pale silver wing. 
 
 Her merry song and shouting 
 Make the cottage rafters ring. 
 
 The oaken bench, so stately, 
 
 She dusts it every day. 
 The blue bowl on the mantel 
 
 She fills with flowers of May. 
 
 Fair Marie, dainty Marie, 
 
 With her ways so sweet and mild, 
 My merry hearted darling 
 
 And my own beloved child. 
 
 26 
 
'A dainty little maiden 
 Who is only half past three." 
 
THE MILL. 
 
 Far down in the hollow, under the hill, 
 I stood by an old and moss covered mill, 
 Its wheel, then so silent, was old and worn, 
 It had ground the wheat, it had ground the corn, 
 But aged and gray it was standing still, 
 The waters were rushing on past the mill, 
 For the useless old mill had had its day, 
 And now the waters were having their way ; 
 And I thought how, when we are young and strong 
 We can grind the years, as they come along. 
 But when we grow older, we then stand still. 
 The years rush by us, as water the mill. 
 For life is a mystery, deep and wide, 
 That reaches from here to the other side. 
 The good we've done, is the grist of the mill 
 After work is over, say what you will. 
 While the Master Miller with His own hand 
 Will guide us safely to the better land ; 
 And we know, at last, when this life is o'er 
 We'll be counted one of the Miller's store. 
 
 27 
 
GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. 
 
 There lurks a poison in each cup of joy, 
 
 A sorrow in each golden crown of bhss; 
 There is a tear for ev'ry fleeting smile, 
 Yet cry we : — "Gloria in excelsis," 
 
 Death, we inhale in ev'ry breath we breathe, 
 Ere we have time to learn what life may hold ; 
 
 Great grief and bliss so closely are entwined, 
 As one, they enter o'er the heart's threshold. 
 
 There is a balm for ev'ry weary heart. 
 And bitter tears for ev'ry merry eye ; 
 
 Then let each one this lesson learn to-day. 
 And praising God, be not afraid to die. 
 
 28 
 
SYMPATHY. 
 
 Oh ! it is sweet to meet a kindred soul whose heart is 
 warm 
 With a melodious song, that chimes in perfect measure 
 With thine own, recalling half forgotten notes in the 
 storm 
 Of less congenial beings. 'Tis more than cold, cold 
 pleasure. 
 
 'Tis a sonnet, 'tis an anthem to the soul. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis grand to watch the fading day if thy simple song 
 Hath reached some untouched heart, and won for thee 
 a single thought 
 Of kindred feeling. Not for fame, but sympathy, they 
 long. 
 Who calmly wait the lisping echo that their song hath 
 wrought, 
 
 'Tis a prayer, a benediction to the soul. 
 
 29 
 
A TRIBUTE. 
 
 TO E. D. S. 
 
 Oft in the long still hours of night, 
 When darkness holds control, 
 
 We think of those our hearts hold dear 
 As treasures of the soul. 
 
 There looms before us joy on joy. 
 
 Of girlhood's happy days; 
 'Tis then thy dear face comes to cheer 
 
 The sad or darksome ways. 
 
 And oft I wonder was it chance 
 From far lands sent thee here. 
 
 To be unto my heart as balm. 
 Or music sweet and clear. 
 
 But, no, the Maker of the world 
 Has in His plan no chance, 
 
 And this thought added to thy worth, 
 Thy friendship doth enhance. 
 
 Oft in the long still hours of night, 
 I breathe for thee a prayer. 
 
 That God, the loving Father, keep 
 Thee ever in His care. 
 
 30 
 
TIME. 
 
 Oh ! Time, thou tide of human ills, 
 Thy waves are hearts' pulsating thrills; 
 Thy hand may stay the course of fate. 
 Thy flight, oh. Time, turn love to hate! 
 The young, the beautiful, the good 
 Become the victims of thy mood: 
 Thy power ev'ry where is shown. 
 From humble cot, to princely throne. 
 
 Who can withstand thy mighty strength, 
 Or chain thee for a moment's length? 
 Who bid thee stay one word to hear? 
 Who claim thee friend, without a tear? 
 Yet, in thy flight may tried ones find 
 Comfort and grace, repose of mind. 
 Mariners beg of thee a gift, 
 As o'er the sea of life they drift. 
 
 31 
 
TIME. 
 
 Oh ! Time, thy stem ruling power 
 Gives us each fair budding flower; 
 The tiny spring of thee gains force; 
 Thou bringest Ufe, love, joy, remorse; 
 Each one and all must feel thy breath, 
 Thou claimest all, oh, Time, with death! 
 Herald, thou art of each new year 
 Thou harvester of love and fear. 
 
 All bow to thee, thou monarch Time, 
 Singing thy praise in prose and rhyme ; 
 All hail thee king of smiles and frowns; 
 No one hath made thee wait for crowns 
 That youth would place upon thy brow, 
 Thou monarch of the past and now. 
 Oh ! Time, thou tide of human ills, 
 Thy waves are hearts' pulsating thrills. 
 
 32 
 
'In your heart is sweet content, 
 Loyalty and love divine." 
 
BETTY ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Little Betty Antoinette, 
 
 Sunshine lingers in your hair, 
 Winsome little ocean waif. 
 
 Your wee heart is free from care! 
 On the sand you play and sing, 
 
 Through the long bright summer day 
 In the winter still you sing, 
 
 Though the days are short and gray. 
 Just a fisher hut your home. 
 
 Who your parents no one knows, — 
 Save some great white ocean wave 
 
 On the sand that comes and goes; — 
 In your heart is sweet content, 
 
 Loyalty and love divine, 
 Would I were again a child 
 
 With content and peace in mine. 
 Little Betty Antoinette, 
 
 May the angels watch o'er you. 
 May the God who guards and guides 
 
 Keep your heart forever true. 
 
 .^0 
 
LOVE. 
 
 There's a magic in music that thrills like a kiss, 
 There is joy in fond hoping that giveth rare bliss, 
 There's a nectar in beauty, strong is its power, — 
 But the beauty of thought will outlive beauty's hour. 
 
 There is sorrow in fashion and pleasure in art, 
 There's a virtue in good deeds that touches the heart, 
 Honor, glory and fortune are but as a name, 
 If the eyes of my darling but sparkle the same. 
 
 There are days that seem perfect from cloud and from 
 
 rain 
 There are others filled often with life's sad refrain, 
 There are eyes bright with pleasure, while others look 
 
 sad, 
 But the eyes of my darling are merry and glad. 
 
 There are words sympathetic we never forget, 
 There are words said in anger that bring but regret, 
 But the one word of all words, where'er speech is fotind. 
 Is love and its power makes the universe bound. 
 
 34 
 
THE BELL. 
 
 "On, Fleetfoot, on ! thou stalwart gray, 
 Nerve ev'ry sinew to obey ! 
 On ! for a life rests in thy stride, 
 Ford thou the stream whose rushing tide 
 Would bear thee and our lives away; 
 Reach yonder town before the day 
 Shall herald with its gleaming light, 
 The hour of peril and our night," 
 
 The rider spurred his noble steed 
 It forward dashed with mighty speed; 
 A time it held its onward course 
 Fighting the river's swirling force. 
 Then, losing footing, all seemed lost 
 As on the surging waves they tossed; 
 The rider, guiding with his hand, 
 "On to rescue !" gave stern command. 
 
 Dawn was wrapt in a misty fold. 
 
 The gray skies bore no tint of gold; 
 
 Peace and sereneness lit the scene 
 
 And quiet reigned a very queen. 
 
 The villagers had naught to fear 
 
 The quaint old town looked brown and sere, 
 
 But yet, the rising of the sun 
 
 Meant death to one — his work undone. 
 
 35 
 
THE BELL. 
 
 Death to a strong man free from ill, — 
 Doomed to die by a monarch's will, — 
 Whose only thought had been to live 
 And to the wretched, succor give. 
 To better here his fellow man; 
 Was thus to end his helpful plan? 
 To die ! die at the dawn of day ! 
 Was there of hope not e'en one ray? 
 
 All hope lay in the rider's hand. 
 For, life might still at his command 
 Be saved, could he but reach th' tower 
 Before the fatal dawning hour; 
 And so he urged his willing steed 
 Making brave effort to succeed; 
 At last within the gate he crept, 
 The prison gate, while yet all slept 
 
 Save one, that one alone slept not, 
 Though reconciled unto his lot. 
 He prayed, thought of and blest his k>vc, 
 Ere tolled the heavy bell above ; 
 When, at his cell a figure stood 
 Closely mantled, with priestly hood. 
 Who said : — "A steed waits, haste away, 
 The bell tolls at the breal< of day." 
 
 '"Tis thou, 'tis Nicholas, thank God!" 
 "Speak not ! 'tis but a single rod 
 
 36 
 
THE BELL. 
 
 'Twixt thee and liberty. Now go! 
 Nor pause to ask nor wish to know 
 The secret here within my breast, 
 Stay not a moment now to rest, 
 But, in yon cavern, by the sea, 
 Await my coming and be free." 
 
 The sunlight crept with smiling ray 
 To bring to earth another day; 
 The keeper woke from troubled dreamf 
 To wait the day's first golden gleams, 
 When he must climb th' gloomy towe! 
 To ring the bell at sunrise hour. 
 A moan of pity filled his breast 
 For him below so sore oppressed. 
 
 Slowly, with keys hung at his side, 
 The keeper faltered and his stride 
 Shortened, as he drew near the cell 
 That held his son. Ah ! who can tell 
 The woe, the agony and grief, 
 With not one hope to bring relief. 
 For there he stood 'twixt pride and joy. 
 His trust to keep, or save his boy. 
 
 He knelt outside the iron gate 
 And prayed to God to alter fate, 
 It seemed his reason must have fled, 
 When Nicholas placed on his head 
 
 37 
 
THE BELL. 
 
 A soothingf hand and said : — "Arise, 
 Look for thy son with thine own eyes;" 
 He gazed as in a dream. "What gonef 
 Then peace came o'er his features wan. 
 * * * 
 
 Starlight rested o'er the hillside, 
 When Nicholas resumed his ride 
 And journeyed onward to the sea, 
 Musing on life and destiny; 
 But once, he paused, to cool his lips, 
 And bathe his brow with finger tips 
 Dipped in a spring, then closer wound 
 His priestly robe his form around. 
 
 The darksome cavern by the sea, 
 
 But mocked Madisko's misery ; 
 
 So silent, cold! yet no alarm 
 
 Or thought of self or fear of harm 
 
 Entered her mind, that trying hour, 
 
 While word she waited from th' tower ; 
 
 By fortitude and courage blest 
 
 Fond hope grew strong within her breast. 
 
 The pine woods echoed not a note. 
 Hushed was the song in each bird's throat. 
 Madisko's heart gave sudden bound, 
 "Oh, joy !" she cried, "the welcome so.und, 
 
 38 
 
THE BELL. 
 
 'Tis thou, my heart's best love, 'tis thou. 
 But say, where is my brother now?" 
 "He sent me, love, to wait with thee, 
 Within this cavern by the sea." 
 
 He took her hand, yet was he led. 
 
 His eyes were moist with tears unshed; 
 
 Tears fraught with joy, they ne'er should part. 
 
 Then pressed Madisko to his heart. 
 
 Of love he spake, then of his cell 
 
 And how he listened for the bell. 
 
 How Nicholas, his life did save. 
 
 Then both rejoiced, though both were grave. 
 
 Soon Nicholas came. With just pride 
 
 He told Madisko of his ride; 
 
 Then joined their hands ere rose the sun, 
 
 Blest them and so pronounced them one. 
 
 Then softly said: — "Oh, brother mine, 
 
 There is a grief for thee and thine. 
 
 Thy father died, as thou didst leave, 
 
 With him all's well, though thou wilt grieve ; 
 
 Yet tears may comfort and help heal 
 
 Thy wounded heart, that, ay, must feel 
 
 The surging of emotion deep, 
 
 As storm stirred shore, the waves that leap 
 
 And beat by mighty forces tossed ; 
 
 But, hasten now or all is lost. 
 
 39 
 
THE BELL. 
 
 Quick, launch the boat, unfurl the sail, 
 Haste, haste away, lest now all fail." 
 
 The boat was launched. Upon the sea 
 
 They struggled, toiled, at last were free 
 
 And sought, by ship moored near at hand, 
 
 A happy home in far off land 
 
 Where freedom reigns. Thus, all was well ! 
 
 Here ends the story of the bell. 
 
 He had brave heart and steady hand, 
 
 Who, "On to rescue" gave command. 
 
 40 
 
HYMN. 
 
 Lead me in life or death, 
 
 To the one destiny; 
 And may my ev'ry breath 
 
 Sing praises unto Thee 
 
 I know my ev'ry prayer 
 Ascendeth not in vain ; 
 
 That Thou dost hear me where. 
 Ne'er enters sin nor pain. 
 
 And when I sometimes stray. 
 And know not which the way; 
 
 Oh! help me then I pray 
 And wash my sins away. 
 
 Oh! fill my inmost soul, 
 With love divinely pure ; 
 
 That I may be quite whole. 
 My earthly weakness cure. 
 
 And to that home prepared. 
 Oh ! may my spirit glide ; 
 
 And may my hopes be shared 
 With loved ones by my side. 
 
 41 
 
POETRY VERSUS DINING. 
 
 Just supposing I were married 
 And my husband came for dinner 
 
 And espied me writing verses, 
 "Tasty viands," quoth the sinner. 
 
 This roundelay might do as steak. 
 
 These quick grown lines as mushrooms serve:, 
 This tart and spicy six Hne verse 
 
 Might do to tone each o'er taxed nerve. 
 
 As sauce this piquant quatrain ought 
 
 Appeal to him as extra good, 
 And this new sonnet as dessert 
 
 I'm sure will please him, as it should. 
 
 But, oh, how hungry I should be 
 With only viands such as these! 
 
 I'm sure I'd say : — "Go order, dear, 
 A capon and a salad, please." 
 
 42 
 
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PASSAIC BOATING SONG. 
 
 The moonbeam's gleaming 
 Is o'er us streaming, 
 
 Its silver rays enchant us as we row. 
 Its gentle seeming 
 Keeps us a dreaming, 
 
 As o'er the waves we gliding swiftly go. 
 Oh! fairy twilight, 
 Oh ! lovely moonlight. 
 
 Our hearts they leap to thee in merry song. 
 Come join our rowing 
 For time is going, 
 
 And hills resound our echoes full and long. 
 Thus as we're riding 
 The flood tide gliding, 
 
 Brings in the waters of the distant bay. 
 While we are floating 
 We'll sing of boating. 
 
 And bid you join our party while you may. 
 Then shout while singing 
 Let voices ringing, 
 
 Hail ! to the beauty of the oarsman's friend. 
 New Jersey's daughters 
 Have skimmed its waters, 
 
 New Tersev's sons have rowed it to the end. 
 
 43 
 
THE GREAT MUSICIAN. 
 
 The Great Musician holds the earth 
 
 A harp within His hand, 
 Each soul a chord, each heart a note 
 
 Is tuned at His command ; 
 Some vibrate to the faintest touch 
 
 As if by zephyrs fanned ; 
 And some so pure, so clear, so strong. 
 
 Respond in anthems grand; 
 While all is kept in harmony 
 
 By the Musician's hand. 
 
 44 
 
MEDITATION. 
 
 What hour is there so dear, so filled with song 
 So full of memories or pleasant dreams, 
 As the soft hour of twilight? 'Tis the long 
 Gray shadows that kiss the slumbering past ; 
 Tis the wan light that wakens footsteps dead. 
 Loved words, a hope, a sigh ; they come, they go, 
 As thus we meditate. What heart is there 
 So sad, so full of grief, but some sunshine 
 Faded and past, may over-beam it with 
 Its light, lifting the mists that hide from us 
 The future way, and on our onward path 
 A brightness throw of perfect peace and trust 
 And faith, that lights the path our feet must tread. 
 Daily, we add some mem'ry to the past. 
 That guards alway these cherished reveries; 
 And thus, when twilight mingles with the dusk 
 We count them as a novice does her beads. 
 
 45 
 
MEDITATION. 
 
 Gaining, in that hour of meditation 
 
 Courage and strength to rise to higher thought 
 
 And purpose, as the weird host of fancies 
 
 Disappear and night its mantle circles 
 
 O'er hearth and heart. 'Tis then we lift our thoughts 
 
 In prayer, thanking the Father for the dreams 
 
 Of life. 'Tis then the future is illumed. 
 
 And the darksome grave its sorrow loses, 
 
 In perfect and abiding trust ; unknown 
 
 In daylight and unfelt. 
 
VIOLETS. 
 
 Just as violets in the spring 
 
 To earth and air their sweetness g^ve; 
 Just as blushes to a maiden 
 
 Proclaim that it is good to live ; 
 So the heart gives of its loving 
 
 From the depth of its devotion, 
 Just as sunbeams glint and glisten 
 
 On the summer sunlit ocean. 
 
 Just as moss clings to a rosebud 
 
 Does a maiden love her lover; 
 Just as bees above the flowers 
 
 In the summer love to hover ; 
 So the violets in the wood 
 
 Give to all the earth their beauty, 
 Lifting up their blue eyes smiling, 
 
 Saying life is love and duty. 
 
 47 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS. 
 
 After many days the ship returns 
 
 That's laden with our heart's desire; 
 Be brave, oh, ye mariners, be brave, 
 
 Nor lose your courage but aspire 
 To heights unreached ! The noble life ship 
 
 Launched here upon the sea of time 
 Must trials, sorrows, keen anguish bear 
 
 Ere it shall reach a sunny clime 
 To laden be, with those precious g^fts 
 
 That worthy are to compensate, 
 For long days and months and years that faith. 
 
 In almost darkness, had to wait. 
 
 After many days the ship returns 
 And brings our fondest hopes ashore ; 
 
 After storm, calm ; after sorrow, joy ; 
 After long days time will restore 
 
 Our ship unto its rightful harbor. 
 And there 't will rest forevermore. 
 
 48 
 
THE EASTER LILIES. 
 
 FROM BERMUDA. 
 
 Hark, did the lilies softly speak! 
 
 Or was it some low, silvered song 
 That from their snowy bosoms stole 
 
 Wrapped in their gentle hearts so long ; 
 Perhaps the breezes of yon isle 
 
 Fanned them to sleep at eventide, 
 And while they slept some stranger sent 
 
 Them o'er the bounding blue to ride 
 A while at sea. What sound was that! 
 
 Did no one speak in accents low, 
 As wavelets whisper to the beach 
 
 When with the tide they come and go! 
 I thought I heard them sigh and say: — 
 
 "Where is our summer isle of bliss. 
 Where the sun's rays, so warm and bright. 
 
 First gave to us their morning kiss ! 
 Laying my hand upon their stems 
 
 I said : — "Why grieve, I love thee well, 
 To-day is Easter, earth is glad 
 
 Because a Savior came to tell 
 Of peace. Oh, lilies, pure and frail 
 
 So comest thou o'er waters blue, 
 
 49 
 
THE EASTER LILIES. 
 
 Holding in chalices of white 
 
 The fragrance gathered in the dew, 
 To breathe thy messages of joy ! 
 
 Canst thou not on this bosom rest 
 For just one Httle fleeting hour, 
 
 To give a peace to thoughts distressed 
 And comfort with thy perfectness? 
 
 Thy wondrous beauty makes me glad. 
 But as I spoke they seemed to say : — 
 
 "We are so very, very sad." 
 Then from the choir an anthem rang 
 
 That made the lilies nod and sway. 
 Bowing my head I softly prayed, 
 
 "Shall duty stern or love to-day 
 Be here my cross or Easter crown ; 
 
 Oh, Father, 'tis a long, long way, 
 I, a pilgrim, like the lilies 
 
 Would thy commands in truth obey!" 
 It seemed the lilies changed and there, 
 
 All dressed in robes of dazzling white, 
 A throng of seraph angels stood 
 
 Singing, singing with all their might. 
 "Peace to thy troubled soul," they said, 
 
 "Christ is risen. He is not dead. 
 Peace to all wounded and oppressed. 
 
 For thee He bore the cross instead ; 
 Lift up thy head, dear child, and see 
 The lesson of Gethsemane." 
 
 50 
 
THE JEWEL. 
 
 A queen beheld a jewel 
 And won it by her power; 
 
 The opal changed its color 
 And was faded in an hour. 
 
 Thus lost in thought, we all may lose, 
 
 The fairest gem that we might choose. 
 
 5? 
 
EVENING HYMN. 
 
 Hark, the twilight bells are ringing, 
 Pealing sweetness through the air; 
 
 List, their accents while they're singing, 
 "Come ye weary kneel in prayer. 
 
 Open up your treasure keeping — 
 
 Share your heart's best with the Lord; 
 
 While the bells are gayly leaping, 
 Kneel, yes, kneel with one accord. 
 
 See the day is swiftly dying — 
 
 The last note has pierced the air; 
 And your weary heart is sighing 
 For the incense born of prayer. 
 
 Hark, the message swift is given 
 To each wanderer oppressed; 
 
 Just as darkest clouds of heaven 
 Always have a golden breast. 
 
 52 
 
UNDERNEATH THE CLOVER. 
 
 Wlat if your to-day is sad! 
 Other days wil make you glad; 
 Hope ne'er dies within the breast 
 L eaving darkness and unrest ; 
 I ove cries ort to be restored 
 To heights, as yet inexplored, 
 And thus we Hve on 
 The vie ory to gain ! Anon, 
 We shall rest, be'oved. 
 
 What if. when life is over, 
 We sleep beneath the clover! 
 If we here have done our best 
 As the time draws near for rest, 
 Who will chide us then and say 
 They believed not in the way 
 
 We looked heavenward ! 
 
 Ay ! for underneath the greensward 
 
 All shall rest, beloved. 
 
 53 
 
UNDERNEATH THE CLOVER. 
 
 What if we love eyes of blue ! 
 Other eyes were just as true, 
 Just as kind words have been said 
 By the gentle ones now dead ; 
 Hearts now still were once as warm 
 As those battling with life's storm; 
 When all is over 
 Underneath a little clover 
 Rest the once beloved. 
 
 What if oft thy faith grows dim ! 
 Trust thou only then in Him 
 Who made all you love and see ; 
 Joy beyond awaiteth thee, 
 For the eyes of brown or blue, 
 They are watching there for you ; 
 
 When all is over 
 
 We shall rest beneath the clover; 
 
 Rest is sweet, beloved. 
 
 .=;4 
 
"Had not two dear dimpled hands 
 Brousl.t me back with their caresses. 
 
DREAMS. 
 
 I sat thinking, I sat dreaming 
 
 In my big, soft, easy chair, 
 And my mind was filled with fancies 
 
 I had pictured in the air; 
 All my thoughts were gently soaring 
 
 In a cloud of rosy glow, 
 Till I seemed myself the phantom 
 
 Of some dream of long ago. 
 
 I could see forms softly tripping 
 
 O'er the hard oak polished floor, 
 Powdered wig and high-heeled slippers, 
 
 Knight and maid, but now no more; 
 I could hear the music's cadence 
 
 Rise and fall in accents sweet, 
 Hear their voices and their laughter, 
 
 And the measure of their feet. 
 
 To and fro in wondrous mazes, 
 
 In, now out, now here, now there, 
 Thus I lost myself in dreaming 
 
 In my big, soft, easy chair; 
 Nor should I have soon awakened 
 
 Had not two dear dimpled hands, 
 Brought me back with their caresses 
 
 From my trip to "Happy Lands." 
 
 55 
 
GENTLE CONNECTICUT. 
 
 Flow on, thou gentle river, through the valley, 
 Pray, who could chide thee in thy winding course ? 
 
 Yon old gray mountain keeping guard for ages, 
 Bends low to thee, as if by magic force. 
 
 The logs that float upon thy breast so gently, 
 Have listened to the woodman's cheery song, 
 
 They all have felt the ax upon them battling 
 Yet now they glide a merry jostling throng. 
 
 See how the meadows and the woodlands teeming 
 With beauty, sing to thee a song of praise ; 
 
 Ah ! who could have the heart to chain thy flowing, 
 As on thy curving banks they pause and gaze ? 
 
 Flow on and on, unceasing in thy journey 
 Till thou hast found thy future in the sea, 
 
 As in our hope for higher thought and action 
 At last we find ours in eternity. 
 
 56 
 
MT. TOM. 
 
 Behold the quiet beauty of Mt. Tom ! 
 
 Behold and gaze upon its lofty brow! 
 Methinks the gods who dwell in yonder skies, 
 
 Did plan it and with glory it endow. 
 
 Here at its foot the golden meadow lies 
 
 Teeming with grain, a harvest to its praise, 
 
 There at its side the gentle river glides, 
 While we in grateful song our voices raise. 
 
 Behold the culture that on ev'ry side 
 
 Circling adds honor to its well earned fame ! 
 
 Behold ! ye in th' valley of ambition, 
 Look up, aspire and win a lasting name. 
 
 57 
 
THE ANSWER. 
 
 Long rays of sunshine, 
 A stretch of yellow sand, 
 
 A dying day, 
 
 A maiden near at hand. 
 
 The golden gleaming, 
 
 Bright on the distant shore, 
 Sends back the waves 
 
 With their sad nevermore. 
 
 58 
 
IN THOUGHT. 
 
 When first the rosy hghted dawn 
 
 Awakes the slumberer to day ; 
 When first the gentle warblers' notes 
 
 Make glad the earth with sweetest lay. 
 When Hfe is bright with love and hope, 
 
 And the young day appears a song, 
 Ah ! then thou art remembered, dear. 
 
 Though thou art absent long. 
 
 When day grows stronger and the flush 
 
 Of dawn has ripened into noon, 
 And buds shall burst with incense sweet, 
 
 And earth's again in mellow tune ; 
 When radiant with the sun's bright glow 
 
 The flowers smile a happy throng, 
 'Tis then thou art remembered, dear, 
 
 Though thou art absent long. 
 
 When earth about her form shall wrap 
 
 The mantle of the day's decay. 
 When winds of lonely fall shall blow. 
 
 Or breezes of bright sunny May 
 Come telling eventide is near. 
 
 Or that all things shall pass away, 
 Ah ! still thou art remembered, dear, 
 
 With the last thoughts of day- 
 
 59 
 
IN THOUGHT. 
 
 When in the dark blue dome above 
 
 The stars shine brightly forth at night; 
 And peaceful, happy dreams shall come 
 
 Again with their familiar sight; 
 The angel Silence walks abroad 
 
 Singing within its heart this song; 
 "Loved one thou art remembered, dear, 
 
 Though thou art absent long." 
 
 fa. 
 
THE TWO ROSES. 
 
THE TWO ROSES. 
 
 Oh ! rose of my garden, where are you, where are you, 
 You bloomed here in beauty but just yester-e'en; 
 
 Your soft damask petals with dew was asparkle. 
 Rose of my garden, of the garden its queen. 
 
 Ohl rose of my heart's depths, where are you, where are 
 you? 
 
 The sunlight grows dim when your smile is not near ; 
 A moment ago I could hear your sweet laughter. 
 
 Oh! rose of my heart's depths, why are you not here? 
 
 Rose of my heart's depths, you have th' rose of my 
 garden, 
 
 I spy you there hiding and laughing in glee ; 
 I shall come for you both, to get you and keep you, 
 
 The two fairest roses the world holds for me. 
 
 ^ 
 
LINES. 
 
 Thou hast a noble, knightly soul, 
 
 And yet I say thee nay, 
 Ere in the west the bright glad sun 
 
 Shall kiss the fading day; 
 The honor mine, the sorrow thine, 
 
 Alas! that this should be, 
 That I should be the cause of grief 
 
 Is misery to me, 
 Fillino^ my heart so full of thoughts, 
 
 But who would understand 
 All the sweet music love can sing, 
 
 Sweeter than gold or land, — 
 And so kind friend, I say thee nay, 
 
 I grieve that this should be. 
 Yet I do pray that thou wilt find 
 
 Some one who loves but thee. 
 
 62 
 
SELMA'S VIOLIN. 
 
 At her feet, on a crimson cushion, 
 
 I dreamed, a sweet dream of delight, 
 My soul seemed in mid air suspended. 
 
 And fast fell the shadows of night; 
 There, swayed by the violin breathing 
 
 Its sympathy, pathos and love. 
 In fancy I dwelt in the region 
 
 'Twixt earth and the blue sky above. 
 
 My dream took a fanciful turning. 
 
 As varied the notes of her scale ; 
 Now, climbing some rugged steep mountain, 
 
 Now, dropping to some misty vale. 
 A spirit's wild laughter, it followed, 
 
 It led me through glens by a brook; 
 In deep tangled vine covered hedges, 
 
 It showed me a sweet hidden nook — 
 
 Where a bee buzzed just for a moment, 
 
 In the cup of a wild blue bell, 
 That shook by the weight of the stranger, 
 
 As it sipped from its nectared well ; 
 
 63 
 
SELMA S VIOLIN. 
 
 Then it led me into the mountains 
 Wh-re miners were digging for ore; 
 
 They had taken out gold in millions, 
 And, still they were searching for more. 
 
 Then darkness came with the evening 
 
 And entered the room, whi'e the song. 
 Floated up and on till my vision 
 
 Seemed fil'ed with an unbidden throng 
 Of silver robed, beautiful maidens, — 
 
 All keeping the time with their feet, — 
 While chanting weird words to the music 
 
 In voices bewitchingly sweet. 
 
 I awoke. The violin silent 
 
 Was resting at Selma's white throat, 
 Her face had the look of an angel 
 
 As echoed the last joyous note; 
 And there, looking up at her beauty 
 
 Orr souls in sweet unison met; 
 The magical thrill of the music 
 
 Shall we either ever forget? 
 
 6* 
 
WHICH BEST. 
 
 Pray ask me not which I love best 
 For I can hardly bear the test; 
 As all inspired with goodness true, 
 One sister thrills me through and through, 
 The other by her own sweet grace 
 Holds me a captive face to face, 
 Deep hidden in each loved one's eyes 
 A glimpse of heaven surely lies. 
 
 65 
 
FAME'S REWARD. 
 
 Weak, dismayed, discouraged, full of fever and longing, 
 Full of a wild sweet song that his parched lips could not 
 
 utter. 
 Paused he at break of day on a wooded liillside, and 
 
 sadly. 
 Fiercely he cried to himself, and then on the gods of the 
 
 greenwood. 
 Begging for aid for the immortal lay that dwelt in his 
 
 bosom, 
 That bosom whence oft had arisen brave songs for the 
 
 people. 
 Again, he cried : — "Harken, oh, harken, ye nymphs of the 
 
 woodland ! 
 Come from your dells or glens or mossy glades where 
 
 sweet slumber 
 Kisses the morning hours in gay fancies away, oh, 
 
 awaken ; 
 Breathe to my harp that lies helpless, lisp now the lay 
 
 that escapes me ; 
 Hope upon hope lies dead, and my song in my bosom 
 
 may perish. 
 Who is there to hear this murmuring soul-wounding sad- 
 ness? 
 
 66 
 
FAMES REWARD. 
 
 Who to give strength or courage to music vibrating 
 
 within me? 
 Bright once were life and hope, and I sang to the people 
 
 my gladness, 
 Touching some heart that was sad, and bringing it back 
 
 to sereneness. 
 Now that my heart fills with song, ready to burst with 
 
 emotion. 
 All about me is still, not even the breeze from the moun- 
 tain, 
 Sadly wailing, allures me to action. Thus in this lone 
 
 wood 
 I shall die, if the notes of my song I soon cannot utter." 
 Lamenting thus, down he gazed and beheld in the valley, 
 Far below, a wayfaring brother weary and footsore, 
 Like him dismayed, yet not despairing to master the 
 
 summit. 
 Tuned by the pitying sight was his soul at the threshold 
 
 of madness. 
 He rose, singing the song to the measure long hushed in 
 his bosom. 
 
 Touching the harp at his side, he thrilled the woodland 
 
 with 
 Echoes. Till exhausted he fell asleep far away in the 
 
 greenwood. 
 
 ******* 
 On the sloping hillside, a fairy, asleep found the minstrel. 
 
 (^7 
 
FAME S REWARD. 
 
 While the notes of his song, full of pathos, were on a 
 
 parchment 
 Writ. There wove she a wreath fit to crown the noblest 
 
 of singers, 
 "AH praise, all honor!" cried she. Then placed on the 
 
 brow of the sleeper 
 Fame's wreath, but he never awoke. So the song of the 
 
 songster 
 Heralded was to the world, but in life, until death he 
 
 awaited 
 All in vain for the echo of praise or of favor. Thus he 
 
 died 
 Lone, heart-broken as he finished his song. Thus ended 
 
 his labor. 
 
 68 
 
NANNETTE LEE. 
 
 I know no eyes so bright as thine. 
 
 That now look up at me ; 
 I know no words that touch my heart 
 
 Like those that come from thee; 
 No grief Hke thine can make me grieve, 
 
 No voice persuade like thine ; 
 Oh ! fairest maid, turn not away 
 
 But say thou wilt be mine. 
 
 I'll climb life's steep and rugged path 
 
 And win a name for thee ; 
 I'll love thee well what e'er betide 
 
 Through all eternity ; 
 I pray thee listen to my heart, 
 
 Oh ! do not say me nay, 
 And enter sorrow in my life, 
 
 But brighter make my day. 
 
 I know no song so sweetly sung 
 
 As that by thy dear voice ; 
 I know no smile whose winsomeness 
 
 So makes my heart rejoice; 
 The cottage down the shady lane 
 
 Beside the old beech tree. 
 Is waiting every day for thee. 
 
 My dearest Nannette Lee. 
 
 69 
 
SIBYL. 
 
 Once, years ago, when Sibyl Gray was young, — ■ 
 With Hps and cheeks Hke cherries red; — 
 
 There came a stranger to old Yarmouth town, 
 And "madly loved her," so he said. 
 
 He praised her "seraph voice," so clear and sweet. 
 Her hair, her eyes, her winsome way ; 
 
 He clasped fair Sibyl's hand and fondly said : — 
 "You are my guide by night and day." 
 
 "Your love," he said, "will ever be my shield, 
 Protecting me from sin and harm ;" 
 
 But, when he sailed to foreign lands away 
 He left fair Sibyl at the farm. 
 
 Years passed and Sibyl married Milton Gray, 
 
 The stranger wed for an estate ; 
 Content and peace in Sibyl's cottage dwelt, 
 
 While discord was the stranger's fate. 
 
 70 
 
'Tell me, sweet child." 
 
QUESTIONING. 
 
 Tell me, sweet child, such a short time from heaven 
 That angels still smile as they look on your face, 
 
 Do plans we make here, come there to fruition ? 
 Shall we in that realm all our best longings trace? 
 
 Tell me, sweet child, shall we find all our loved ones 
 Awaiting us there in that world whence you came ? 
 
 Shall work be for love, unshadowed by sorrow 
 The joy of the doing, the height of our aim? 
 
 Tell me, sweet child, for the true light of heaven 
 Reflected, I see, on your innocent face, 
 
 What did you grasp, as to earth you descended, 
 That fills your eyes full of God's infinite grace ? 
 
 71 
 
ON LIFE'S SEA. 
 
 Like unto ships, with sails, are men. 
 The force propelling is the breeze; 
 
 Like ocean steamers, women need 
 A hand to guide them o'er the seas. 
 
 The All- Wise made them as they are. 
 And each is strong and each is weak ; 
 
 When storms arise or when becalmed. 
 Both must for help His guidance seek. 
 
 The strong one oft becomes the weak, 
 The weak one, greater strengfth may show, 
 
 Each craft is built for its own work, 
 And for the journey it must go. 
 
 Then why comment upon the way 
 Each makes the trip across life's sea; 
 
 The chart's marked out, each in its course 
 But follows the divine decree. 
 
 72 
 
ASPIRATION. 
 
 Fill up the glass till it no more can hold, 
 Let not one drop of aught save perfect joy 
 Be placed therein ; 
 Then quaff the glowing essence till all told ; 
 Then free from sorrow, from the world's alloy. 
 From earthly sin, 
 We rise to heights unknown, save immortality, 
 And seem to gain perfection through its reality. 
 
 73 
 
TO ELSIE. 
 
 As I look into thy dear eyes 
 
 So true, I find but pure delight; 
 How can I look up at the skies 
 
 When chained by thy fair orbs of light ! 
 They touch my heart, loved of my soul, 
 
 As doth the music of thy voice; 
 Space may divide us, long years roll, 
 
 Still, in thy love, will I rejoice. 
 
 74 
 
PEU-A-PEU. 
 
 It is little by little the rays of light 
 
 Through the clouds are sifted like purest gold, 
 
 And little by little, if we use our might, 
 
 We can spread heart-sunshine ere life is told. 
 
 Why then be sad and say life has no setting. 
 The cross that you bear, another has borne, 
 
 Bear it then bravely, why live in regretting. 
 The rose that's fairest oft wears sharpest thorn. 
 
 What is the use of forever repining 
 
 And dreading the rain or the cloud's dark pall, 
 For back of the clouds is the sun still shining 
 
 And an All Wise Power reigns over all. 
 
 *Tis little by little we climb the mountain, 
 'Tis little by little all tasks are done, 
 
 When life is o'er we shall rest at the Fountain 
 The Fountain of Life with victory won. 
 
 75 
 
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. 
 
 Fair is the sight of ships on the ocean, 
 
 Though to distant ports they sail away ; 
 Fair is the light of the sky at sunrise, 
 
 Although it bring but a sadder day ; 
 Fair is youth's hope, with its untried power, 
 
 Though life's land of shadow lieth near; 
 Fair is the bride at the altar kneeling, 
 
 Though clouds may lurk in the sky now clear. 
 
 Sorrow enters the heart that is lightest, 
 
 And checks the peal of the laughter gay; 
 It invades the thoughts of little children, 
 
 Till they leave their playmates and their play. 
 Oose to the sunshine lieth the shadow. 
 
 Close in the heart lieth trust and fear. 
 There's never one joyous, happy moment, 
 
 But has a sorrow in hiding near. 
 
 76 
 
NEW YEAR BELLS. 
 
 I had listened to their music, 
 
 Till with them my thoughts kept time, 
 And I passed through scenes of pleasure. 
 
 Till I dwelt in realms sublime; 
 Laughing, sighing, sobbing, dying, 
 
 Floated up those strains to me, 
 As the billows travel landward 
 
 From a rough and troubled sea. 
 
 Then, I thought how much like music 
 
 Ought this life of ours to be. 
 Light and happy, calm and thoughtful, 
 
 Till upon eternity. 
 Rippling, ringing, dancing, singing, 
 
 Floats the music of the soul; 
 Thus attuned would earth be better, 
 
 As the ages onward roll. 
 
 77 
 
THE WINCO-PIPE. 
 
 There is growing a wee flower 
 
 So modest in its beauty, 
 There are few people who can tell 
 
 What is the flower's duty. 
 
 In stubble fields or country roads, 
 In damp or cloudy weather. 
 
 It opens not its flowers bright 
 Beside the wayside heather. 
 
 But, if the day is to be fine 
 At all the world 'tis peeping, 
 
 It then foretells to young and old 
 It has no time for sleeping. 
 
 That far from home they all can roam, 
 
 Without a fear of getting 
 A drop of rain upon their clothes, 
 
 To spoil them by a wetting. 
 
 78 
 
W 
 Is 
 
THE OLD NEW ENGLAND HOMESTEAD. 
 
 The old New England homestead by the roadside stands 
 to-day, 
 In the grandeur of simplicity and worth ; 
 Around its walls affection twines fond dreams both sad 
 and gay, 
 That gladden and make thoughtful this old earth. 
 The lilac blossoms by the door 
 
 In white and lilac plumes. 
 And in the garden near is found 
 All the old fashioned blooms; 
 The fragrant box, the old time rose, 
 
 Moss pinks and lemon balm, 
 With thyme and marjorum and sage 
 The weary nerves to calm. 
 
 The old New England homestead by the roadside stands 
 to-day, 
 A monument to courageous hearts and true ; 
 
 79 
 
THE OLD NEW ENGLAND HOMESTEAD. 
 
 From out its halls brave sons have passed to battle in 
 life's fray, 
 For right, not might, their daily task to do. 
 The courtesy of old time days 
 
 Beside its hearth is found, 
 Like lavender and rich old lace 
 It makes the blood to bound; 
 As potions of the old time mints 
 Gave o'er taxed nerves a calm, 
 So old New^ England homesteads lend 
 To weary hearts a balm. 
 
 80 
 
WHERE DWELL THE GODS? 
 
 Where dwell the spirits of the gods 
 Who touch and bring to life, 
 
 The words immortal of the bards 
 Whose measures soothe all strife? 
 
 Methinks they dwell in purple mist 
 At dawn and close of day, 
 
 Methinks they sleep while others work 
 And work while others play. 
 
 8i 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 Say, sweetest fancy, from what sunny summer clime 
 
 Dost hail? Perchance thou'rt that from which our 
 dreams are wrought, — 
 Or didst thou gain existence from some silv'ry chime. 
 
 That softly floated through the air, and fondly sought 
 To tune the hearts of men? Methinks love made thee 
 fair. 
 
 And crowned thee queen of this, our ever changing 
 world. 
 Where age and sorrow silver all too soon the hair; 
 
 Where grief and anguish flaunt their banner all un- 
 furled. 
 Say, does the purple mist on yonder mountain's crest 
 
 Give birth to thy fair form ? Say, sweetest fancy, say 
 Where dwells thy flitting ghost when earth is hushed to 
 rest, 
 
 And Night has covered with her mantle sleeping Day? 
 Who hath not met thee at the portals of sweet sleep, 
 
 Fearing to lose each moment thy companionship? — 
 Yet at thy accents often must we pause and weep 
 
 So strange so cruel are the words that leave thy lip. 
 Who hath not followed thee to paradise, of love 
 
 Knows naught, nor the soft soothing bliss almost divine 
 From thorny, rough and ugly paths to heav'n above 
 
 Making our way, we gladly would be slaves of thine. 
 
 82 
 
RUE. 
 
 Shut out the darkness, shut in the light ; 
 Shut in the beauty, shut out the night ; 
 Build on the hearthstone the cheerful fire. 
 And list, oh, list to my heart's desire ! 
 The night wind is harsh, the night is wild, 
 Oh, where, oh, where is my best loved child ! 
 Oh ! God have mercy, he sails the main. 
 And bring him home to my heart again. 
 
 83 
 
NAMELESS GRAVES. 
 
 There are full many nameless graves 
 Uncared for and unknown, 
 
 Within whose quiet lowly sleep 
 Souls that once brightly shone. 
 
 There are full many nameless graves 
 Unmarked by stone or cross, 
 
 And though the sleepers we knew not, 
 Some one has felt their loss. 
 
 There are full many nameless graves 
 Where grasses sweeping sigh 
 
 Above the loved and cherished ones, 
 Who now so calmly lie. 
 
 There are full many nameless graves 
 Where toilers pause to rest 
 
 And dwell on holy thoughts of life, 
 That rise within the breast. 
 
 There are full many nameless graves 
 
 The world forgets to-day, 
 But He who notes the sparrow's fall 
 
 Will watch o'er them for ave. 
 
 84 
 
BROOKSIDE. 
 
 Listen to the cattle lowing 
 
 By the murmuring rill, 
 See the meHow sunlight streaming 
 
 O'er meadows sof l and still ; 
 The summer day is full of peace. 
 
 The hour is one of prayer, 
 In ecstacy of sweetest thorght, 
 
 Life seems devoid of care. 
 
 The hours of the glorious day 
 
 Ebb like the ocean's tide; 
 The sunlight and the shadows rest 
 
 All closely side by side. 
 The crystal brook, the moss grown stile 
 
 The willows bending o'er. 
 Are but the means for fancy's flight 
 
 Until in dreams I soar. — 
 
 85 
 
BROOKSIDE. 
 
 To that fair realm of endless peace, 
 
 God's land of perfect day, 
 Where not a shadow comes nor doubt 
 
 To haunt the gladsome way, — 
 By the brookside, reawaking, 
 
 A song of praise I'll sing 
 Till the meadows and the woodlands 
 
 In unison shall ring. 
 
 Nature's voice speaking gently 
 
 To hearts attuned to hear. 
 Tell the story of God's power 
 
 To the listening ear; 
 As the day fades, by the brookside, 
 
 To eventide sublime. 
 May these voices be prophetic 
 
 Of the happier clime. 
 
 86 
 
'And each day is full o'er flowing 
 For a little lassie's sake." 
 
DAY DREAMS. 
 
 I will tell you if you'll listen 
 
 Of a dream so rich and rare, 
 Half of earth and half of heaven 
 
 Seems this dream to me so fair. 
 By the roadside stands a cottage 
 
 Bowered o'er with trailing vine. 
 Half in shade and half in sunshine 
 
 Stands the cottage that is mine. 
 
 There, the morning zephyrs playing 
 
 Kiss my eyelids as they wake, 
 And each day is full o'er flowing 
 
 For a little lassie's sake. 
 Through the open door, the sunshine, 
 
 Floods the old hall with its light, 
 And the splendor of this brightness 
 
 Fills my soul with pure delight. 
 
 "Love," some say, "is for the spring-time," 
 
 "Not so," say I, " 'tis for life," 
 Pain and anguish, care and hardship, 
 
 What count they, in life's fierce strife? 
 Just a little word will alter 
 
 All the darkness of a day, 
 Love possesses the same sweetness 
 
 When the spring has passed away. 
 
 87 
 
DAY DREAMS. 
 
 Love believes in looking forward 
 
 Helping others day by day, 
 Doing some wee act of kindness, 
 
 Stopping here and there to pray; 
 Seeking always first our duty, 
 
 Though it seem quite hard and plain, 
 And this gives to us a blessing 
 
 That is afterward our gain. 
 
 Work is noble, love is precious, 
 
 Kindness is the Christian's part. 
 Riches oft prove but a sorrow 
 
 Crushing good deeds from the heart. 
 Let the day dreams of our making, 
 
 Then be builded so that they, 
 Shail be helpfi 1 and uplifting 
 
 To those battling in life's fray. 
 
 88 
 
IMPRISONED. 
 
 God pity the heart that exists in a prison cell ! 
 God pity the tried soul that lives in an earthly hell ! 
 For, if the God who made them doth pity not bestow, 
 Pray, who is there on earth, who will listen I would know 
 To the heart that sorrows from unjust sentence given ! 
 Is there a God on earth or does He dwell in heaven ? 
 Where needs the soul tried man and woman His mighty 
 
 love 
 So much as here? Here, where 'twill help them to rise 
 
 above 
 The temptation that bewitches them, and where some are 
 Seeming devils to drag them down or lure them afar ; 
 To the imprisoned, death holds a solace and a bliss, 
 A peace the world's temptations deprive them of in this. 
 
 89 
 
FANCIES. 
 
 There are ships that ride on the billows, 
 
 Far out on the mighty deep, 
 And they carry our heart's best treasures. 
 
 The best that was ours they keep. 
 
 And the white capped sails as they flutter. 
 Then disappear from our sight, 
 
 May never go into the harbor 
 That hope has flooded with light. 
 
 For some of these barks are but fancies, 
 
 Lx>, others are real as day ! 
 Some have dauntless hearts at the compass 
 
 To guide them upon the way. 
 
 Our hopes are like crafts on life's ocean. 
 Tossed about here and now there, 
 
 Yet a peace may come when storms arise 
 By the breathing of a prayer. 
 
 If ever the longed for port is reached 
 Shall our hearts no echo hear? 
 
 Shall no vibrant chord respond to us 
 From the hopes we held most dear? 
 
 90 
 
JUNE IS DYING. 
 
 The mellow light at sunset 
 
 Kissed the blushes on the rose. 
 The stars came twinkling brightly, 
 
 As the earth sought sweet repose ; 
 The breezes through the tree tops 
 
 A mystic song was sighing, 
 And far off echoes answered 
 
 "Fair June, fair June, is dying." 
 
 Thus fairest days must perish. 
 
 Though our hearts in them take pride ; 
 Full soon life's morning passes, 
 
 And too soon comes even-tide. 
 The perfume of the roses. 
 
 Makes us long for June to stay, 
 Alas ! that June must perish 
 
 In its beauty pass away. 
 
 Will June again come to us 
 
 With sweet rose-covered bowers? 
 Will the sunshine seem as bright 
 
 As in life's earlier hours? 
 Will our hearts drink in the joy 
 
 Of the June days long since dead? 
 Will the silvered locks be loved 
 
 When the golden locks have fled? 
 
 91 
 
JUNE IS DYING. 
 
 Then a south wind gaining force, 
 
 From some far off sunny sea, 
 Came to comfort and to bless, 
 
 With a soothing melody ; 
 But its soft and plaintive song, 
 
 As it sang of Junes long fled, 
 Bore this note of present grief, 
 
 June, Time's darling June, is dead. 
 
 92 
 
A SONG. 
 
 I'm waiting, sweet mother, 
 
 Dear mother, dear ; 
 I'm waiting, just waiting 
 
 Oh, I pray do not fear! 
 The way may seem dreary 
 
 But my mission demands, 
 That I must be loyal 
 
 To the Master's commands ; 
 Sweet mother, dear mother. 
 
 Dear mother, dear. 
 
 I'm waiting, still waiting 
 
 Dear mother, dear; 
 Take courage, take courage. 
 
 Oh, I pray shed no tear ! 
 For, if on my journey 
 
 I may tarry full long, 
 I still love you, darling. 
 
 And this love is my song; 
 Sweet mother, dear mother, 
 
 Dear mother, dear. 
 
 93 
 
LOOK UP. 
 To M. S. McL. 
 
 Look up, dear heart, sweet rest 
 
 Is hers to-day, 
 Henceforth her feet shall walk 
 
 The brighter way ; 
 No pain, nor sickness can 
 
 Her heart oppress. 
 Yet she is ever near 
 
 Thy way to bless ; 
 Like the unseen perfume 
 
 Of rare flowers, 
 Her love stays to comfort 
 
 Thy coming hours, 
 Like a benediction — 
 
 A tender grace; — 
 Dear heart, thy loved beholds 
 
 The Savior's face. 
 
 94 
 
WHEREFORE. 
 
 We build for others not ourselves 
 The palace grand and fair ; 
 
 We form with beauty and with art 
 Each winding turret stair. 
 
 We place the chimes, in belfr)^ high, 
 
 The clock, in steeple tall. 
 And when 't is done, we lie quite dead, 
 
 And others gain them all. 
 
 95 
 
A BIRD'S LAMENT. 
 
 Alone, in this prison house, sorrow I here, 
 
 Yet those all about me, in love hold me dear ; 
 
 Though I'm petted, caressed and fed from their hands, 
 
 This house is a prison of brightest gilt bands; 
 
 I'm fed ev'ry day on the gifts that they bring. 
 
 But my soul, oh, my soul, oh, how can I sing ! 
 
 I long for the blue sky that's over my head. 
 
 And the sunsets that die all golden and red. 
 
 For fields full of blossoms, oh, how can I stay, 
 
 When brooklets are calling me out where they play ! 
 
 I envy the songster who builds his own nest. 
 Where soft winds may rock him so gently to rest ; 
 Who carols his song to his God and his mate, 
 With never a feeling of sorrow or hate ; 
 Come, take down these bars and my freedom restore, 
 I long just to fly to the woodlands once more; 
 To pour forth the song that's asleep in my throat 
 In one long entrancing melodious note; 
 The hand that retains me a captive, I'm sure 
 Knows not the heart longings a bird must endure. 
 
 96 
 
A FRAGMENT. 
 
 "If I should die to-night," 
 Who then of me would write — 
 ''Much good, no harm she did," 
 Above my coffin lid? 
 Who then would come and say, 
 O'er me at break of day ; — 
 "No noble action wrought," 
 Much good, no harm she sought? 
 Ah! one I know would come, 
 From out life's busy hum 
 Of toil and grief and care. 
 That all our hearts must bear, 
 And she, my mother dear, 
 Above my lonely bier. 
 Would drop for me a tear 
 Of love and trust sincere; 
 And in her heart would say : — 
 "Darker has grown the day 
 Since she, my child, to-night 
 Hath passed to realms of light." 
 
 97 
 
YOUTH. 
 
 Sleeping in the sunshine or reveling in the clew, 
 Letting precious moments pass, that now seem all too 
 
 few, 
 Longing ^or the stars of night before the day's begim, 
 Wishing for the coming day, ere yet the day is done, 
 Dreaming of the future's work and planning it most fair, 
 Holding consultation with the unseen in the air, 
 Listening to the robin call or the whippoorwill, 
 Drinking in the perfume rare that the flowers distil ; 
 Chasing oft the butterfly o'er fields of clover sweet, 
 Walking paths or country roads where those we love we 
 
 meet. 
 Dipping oar in ruffled stream or floating with the tide, 
 Singing low some melody, as gently on we glide, 
 Searching for some magic lore within some musty book, 
 Building fairy castles grand, within a shady nook, 
 Making love to beauteous spring in its gala dress. 
 Calling every summer ours with a fond caress, 
 Oaiming us the autumn comes and lo, we wake to grief 
 Crying out, oh, where is youth and who has been the 
 
 thief! 
 
 qR 
 
"Listening to the robin call." 
 
SUMMER ROSES. 
 
 Sweet is the breath of the summer roses, 
 
 Albeit they wither, fade and die ; 
 Sweet is the dream of a day departed, 
 
 Although it wring from the lips a sigh ; 
 Sweet is the hour when we are remembered, : 
 
 Though time and distance loved friends divide ;- 
 Sweet is the sound of the wild waves beating 
 
 Against the shore with the rising tide. 
 
 (thoughts that crept in.) 
 
 Why sigh for the summer's sweetest rose, 
 Will its fragrance bring thy heart repose ? 
 Will the dream fade at the dawn of light ? 
 Will sadness give thee a second sight ? 
 Will remembrance heal thy wounded heart, 
 And lead it on to a better part ? 
 Will years of divided friendship bring 
 'iy thinking, aught but a bitter sting? 
 'Vill the sad waves as they rush ashore 
 £ver cease their cry of "Nevermore"? 
 
 99 
 
LOVE'S POWER. 
 
 As constant as the river's flow in winding journey ever. 
 As fervent as the spring-time's glow remains true love 
 
 forever ; 
 It surges high, the billowy deep with it can not compare. 
 Its warmth and tenderness doth leap like cataracts 
 
 through the air. 
 It mounts the soul a fevered flame consuming in its 
 
 power, 
 It exists but for a single name and love's endearing hour ; 
 By want or grief it is not crushed, they strengthen its 
 
 devotion, 
 It will not like a child be hushed with music's gentle 
 
 lotion. 
 The flame is fanned by ev'ry ebb of every tide or breeze, 
 And like a fly caught in a web the enraptured know no 
 
 ease; 
 It dies not e'en with mortal breath nor from brave souls 
 
 will sever, 
 Love ne'er is conquered here by death, for love lives on 
 
 forever. 
 Who never felt its thrilling power till breathing seemed 
 
 to cease 
 Hath never known the spring-time hour nor the fireside's 
 
 gentle peace. 
 
 lOO 
 
THE DANCE. 
 
 Vibrate ye cords of music most entrancing, 
 
 Let sorrow take the wings of flight, 
 Join in the revel of our merry dancing, 
 
 Ere mom shall waft away the night. 
 For life itself is but a few short dances, 
 
 We meet, then part forevermore ; 
 Who will not revel in its fairy trances, 
 
 Lose sweets they cannot well restore. 
 
 If Cupid tunes some hearts to wild romancing, 
 
 Lightly we'll try the dance with joy. 
 We'll pass the hours in bliss and fancy dancing, 
 
 And try and cheat the darling boy. 
 Fill up the glass, fill up the bowl of pleasure, 
 
 Then dream of youths and maidens fair, 
 Come, let us tread the magic dance's measure. 
 
 Ere sorrow fill us with despair. 
 
 O, do not be forever backward glancing, 
 
 But forward always to the light! 
 Come, mingle with the gay ones in their dancing, 
 
 Ere pass the cup of sweets from sight ; 
 Ere ruby lips and loved forms have departed, 
 
 And the music hath lost its charm. 
 Before the night to kiss the day hath started, 
 
 Once more we'll circle arm in arm. 
 
 lOI 
 
THE DANCE. 
 
 Once more, to-night, come, heed its wondrous thriUing, 
 
 While stars above us hold their sway, 
 Let all our hearts with raptured joy be filling, 
 
 O, let us dance till break of day! 
 Here, man of sadness, gladness seek to borrow, 
 
 And sport a moment in the bliss ; 
 Here, here, is pleasure, fling away all sorrow, 
 
 Till night shall toss to morn her kiss. 
 
 T02 
 
THE NIGHTMARE. 
 
 Through long perplexing mazes, 
 Where beings use not phrases, 
 
 And the cheerful sun is never known to shine ; 
 Where no footsteps ever fall 
 In the dreamland dreamer's hall. 
 
 And the place presents the aspect of a mine ; 
 
 There in fancy once I strayed, — 
 I was very much afraid, — 
 
 When I spied a prince in royal robes asleep; 
 He was bound, it seemed quite sad 
 By a string to paper pad. 
 
 And for grief of this I soon began to weep. 
 
 Not a sound escaped my lips, 
 And my tears turned into chips 
 
 Falling ev'rywhere, each way, I did but gaze, 
 And in this most dreadful plight 
 I did try to call outright 
 
 With some wonder startling, horror striking phrase 
 
 103 
 
THE NIGHTMARE. 
 
 But my voice was stricken dumb, 
 To assist me none would come, 
 
 I awoke in fevered anguish and despair; 
 And folks said who thought they knew, — 
 Of such folks there are a few, — 
 
 'Twas a nightmare and I'd better have a care. 
 
 Since that time, I've taken care, 
 Biscuits hot and truffles rare, 
 
 Lobster salad, coffee, mince pie, I refuse 
 At the hour of retiring, — 
 They're not at all inspiring, — 
 
 And a nightmare's not a Pegasus I'd choose. 
 
 11)4 
 
CHILDHOOD DAYS. 
 
 TO J. R. G. 
 
 We live not for ourselves alone, 
 But for our friends and kindred dear ; 
 
 We toil and hope and watch and wait 
 And weep, ah, many a tear! 
 
 Yet oft we cross a sunny path 
 Bordered with memory flowers, 
 
 Reminding us of childhood's days, 
 And youth's bright happier hours. 
 
 lOS 
 
IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 Ring out ye notes from yonder Gothic tower. 
 
 Let no flaw be within thy sway, 
 Peal out within thy granite's lofty bower 
 
 A bridal anthem's sweetest lay ; 
 For, who can say as down the roll of ages 
 
 Thy joyous echo gently glides, 
 It may not cheer the heart that it engages, 
 
 Making it happy as a bride's. 
 
 Toll out in measured tones from yonder tower, 
 
 Let thy notes calm sad hearts to-day, 
 Pour out a requiem that shall have power 
 
 To lighten sorrow's darksome way ; 
 For, who can say but that adown the ages 
 
 Thy calming echoes, to the sad 
 May be, a balm that ev'ry grief assuages, 
 
 Making the future ages glad. 
 
 To6 
 
THE VALENTINE. 
 
 TO H. G. 
 
 It was just a bit of blue ribbon 
 
 Binding- some violets blue, 
 While here and there twined a white lily 
 
 Fragrant, half covered with dew, 
 
 I sent them away on a mission 
 Bearing a bright gladsome lay; 
 
 Ah ! I wonder does he remember 
 Dear old Saint Valentine's day. 
 
 107 
 
FORGET ME NOT. 
 
 "Forget me not/' the ebb tide waves 
 Lisped as they left the shore ; 
 
 The breeze took up the sweet sad strain, 
 And murmured ; — "Never more.'' 
 
 "Forget me not," a warbler sang; 
 
 His accents thrilled a soul, 
 As through the air in tenderness 
 
 His plaintive music stole. 
 
 "Forget me not, the world is wide," 
 
 Two said at close of day, 
 
 Two hearts in unison replied : — 
 
 "Not till life pass away." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 The first incoming wave erased 
 The ebb tide's lisping word ; 
 
 The soul forgot the warbler's song, 
 In newer songs it heard. 
 
 Two lovers parted for a time, 
 
 Found other loves near by; 
 Forget me not ! The world forgets 
 
 The same as you and I. 
 
 io8 
 
THE MISER. 
 
 Once a miser, lean and old. 
 
 Saved his gold, 
 And wlien all his wealth was told, 
 
 Was unrolled. 
 You could pour it from your hand, 
 Like a golden fountain grand, 
 
 Till the floor 
 Like a golden street appeared, 
 But he lost, it is much feared. 
 
 Lost his soul, 
 
 On the whole. 
 
 Once he was a youth most fair. 
 
 And his hair 
 Curled about a shapely head, 
 
 It is said; 
 And he had a stately step. 
 Kindness through his pulses leapt, 
 
 Till one day. 
 Who can say what changed his course ; 
 Do you think it was remorse, 
 
 Made him strive. 
 
 Thus to thrive? 
 
 Was it grief that made him grind. 
 Made him bind. 
 
 109 
 
THE MISER. 
 
 Till his chests with gold all lined 
 
 You could find ; 
 Till his youth it disappeared, 
 And at sentiment he sneered. 
 
 Was it death ? 
 Or love, changed his gentle ways, — 
 Made him sour in his young days, — 
 
 To this state? 
 
 Was it fate ? 
 
 Bit by bit he saved the ore, 
 
 Saved it more; 
 At first folks thought ambition. 
 
 His mission; 
 Then his heart was kind and good, 
 Few there were who understood, 
 
 Why he chans:ed, 
 But I knew him when his heart, 
 Was a thing from gold apart, 
 
 Long ago, 
 
 This was so. 
 
 I will tell his tale of grief 
 
 It is brief. 
 First he built in love's bright hour, 
 
 A bower; 
 In it grew a flower fair, 
 Yet a canker worm was there, 
 
 To destroy. 
 And he tried to crrsh the thing. 
 
 no 
 
THE MISER. 
 
 Ere it left its poisoned sting-, 
 On his dove. 
 His dear love. 
 
 But her spirit did depart, 
 
 And his heart ; 
 Heavy grew upon life's way. 
 
 That sad day ; 
 Then he hardened grew and cold, 
 Though he was not very old. 
 
 And from then, 
 Hoarded for the sake of pelf, 
 And he thought of naught but self, 
 
 Bitter years. 
 
 Without tears. 
 
 The dear one who charmed his days, 
 
 By her ways, 
 And the brisrhtness of her smile. 
 
 For a while, 
 Took the c^a'^^necs from his life. 
 When she >ft fhis world of strife, 
 
 I. one asro 
 And his henr: ?ern-ed turned to stone, 
 And he Mvp'^ for '^-^Id a^one, 
 
 Yellow ?old. 
 
 Gold untold. 
 
 Ye, of noble heart rivA mind. 
 Be not blind ' 
 
 II 5 
 
THE MISER. 
 
 For the miser lean and old, 
 
 And his gold, 
 Is a lesson of life's loss, 
 And its bitterness and dross. 
 
 Doubt, despair. 
 Grief we know must have its day, 
 But look up, the better way. 
 
 Leads from night, 
 
 Into light. 
 
 112 
 
FRAGMENT. 
 
 Over my heart there sweepeth, like a sea, 
 
 A current of pulsations and to-night 
 My thoughts are clinging ever near to thee, 
 
 While waiting for the dawning of the light. 
 
 Before my vision comes a scene I know, 
 And yet its setting is all strange and new, 
 
 Can soul read soul ? I wonder is it so 
 And if the key is given to the few ? 
 
 The picture fades, the scene dies far away, 
 
 Leaving an after wish oft to recall 
 The trance thus gone, oh, why will it not stay 
 
 When in it is enshrined life's little all ! 
 
 And still we watch and wait for it the same 
 
 To come again, resist it as we may ; 
 There is an influence without a name 
 
 That bears a power in the world today. 
 
 'Tis a fragment, an echo stirred to life, 
 
 A living spirit full of force and will. 
 It is thought fired and charged with thought at strife. 
 
 But of the universe a fragment still. 
 
 113 
 
FAITH. 
 
 He is not dead, his baby eyes 
 
 Are laughing- in a glad surprise, 
 
 At all the bright and pretty things 
 
 Some watchful angel to him brings ; 
 
 And ev'ry morn and noon and night 
 
 He comes to you in his delight, 
 
 And keeps your hearts in touch with him, 
 
 In that fair land where naught grows dim ; 
 
 And in your tasks here day by day 
 
 He walks beside you all the way ; 
 
 To help you by some loving deed 
 
 That here your human hearts may need ; 
 
 Your guiding angel here is he 
 
 And will be through eternity. 
 
 114 
 
'In your tasks here day by day 
 He walks l:)eside vou all the way. 
 
FAR AWAY. 
 
 Far away gleam the lights of the city, 
 
 Beyond looms the lone mountain's brow ; 
 The subduing influence of midnight 
 
 Hushes earth into slumber now. 
 The last note from the belfry has sounded, 
 
 The last step on the stair has fled, 
 While the calm and repose of the moment 
 
 Fills the soul with a solemn dread. 
 
 Far away seems the past like the future, 
 
 To-day seems like yesterday's ghost; 
 While the midnight and beautiful silence 
 
 Seem filled with a fluttering host 
 Of bright joyous-eyed, merry-eyed fancies, — 
 
 But time will soon bring them to tears, — 
 Thus unbarring the doorway to dreamland, 
 
 We wander devoid of all fears. 
 
 Far away seems the soul when we're sleeping, 
 
 It roams without trouble or care ; 
 Then the loved of our hearts seem the nearest, 
 
 Fulfilled seems our every prayer. 
 We heed not then the time in its passing, 
 
 For time has not conscience nor heart. 
 Departed seem our grieds and our trials 
 
 And the cares of life's busy mart. 
 
 "5 
 
FAR AWAY. 
 
 Far away, we are told of a city 
 
 Ablaze with the light of the soul ; 
 Where the midnight of earth never enters, 
 
 Though age upon ages shall roll ; 
 There our thoughts are the echoes of music. 
 
 There the right is easily done, 
 There this earth and its dreams are forgotten 
 
 And victory, victory's won. 
 
 ii6 
 
LET IN THE SUNSHINE. 
 
 Lift up the ruby curtains 
 
 Let God's sunshine in to-day, 
 Your life will be the brighter 
 
 For each happy dancing ray. 
 Lift up your cross though heavy 
 
 'Tis no more than you can bear, 
 And if you bear it bravely 
 
 It will help to lighten care. 
 For some, Joy's cup o'er floweth 
 
 But to bring them griefs untold; 
 Life's trial sheet is balanced 
 
 By commingled dross and gold. 
 Rejoice then in the sunshine 
 
 And encourage it to stay, 
 The fostered clouds grow darker 
 
 So let sunshine in to-day. 
 
 117 
 
THE CHIMES. 
 
 I closed my eyes and fancied my love was sitting there, 
 There beside the fire bright with its glint upon her hair ; 
 And there in youthful beauty, with heart o'er full of glee, 
 Her merry eyes in gladness they seemed to laugh at me. 
 Upon a crimson cushion before the grate fire's light, 
 My little love sat singing a year ago to-night ; 
 It seemed she sang again to me, th' songs that pleased 
 
 me so. 
 And that th' vision bright must stay and warm me with 
 
 its glow, 
 But as the song in sweetness upon my hearing fell, 
 From out old Grace Church tower pealed forth the New 
 
 Year's bell. 
 But, as the last stroke sounded the vision softly fled, 
 And the joy of a past hour lay withered, crushed and 
 
 dead. 
 
 ii8 
 
"Oh, let me see my native town, 
 And hear my mother's song."' 
 
THE SPANISH MAID. 
 
 Come, sleep, with gentle lullabies 
 Kiss lightly these tired eyes ; 
 
 Loop up the curtain of dreamland 
 Where longed for solace lies. 
 
 And waft me back to the Southland 
 That land beside the seas, 
 
 And let me hear the music sweet 
 Sung by the wooing breeze. 
 
 Oh, let me see loved faces dear, 
 And hear the Spanish tongue, 
 
 Then, will I sing and dance with glee 
 With heart both light and young! 
 
 Oh, let me see my native town, 
 And hear my mother's song, 
 
 And touch again my dear guitar 
 All silent now too lonaf! 
 
 119 
 
THE SPANISH MAID. 
 
 Oh, let me hear the wild bird's note, 
 
 And feel its magic spell, 
 And pluck the Spanish broom so sweet 
 
 Whose haunts I know so well! 
 
 Then let me by some shady brook 
 
 Dream of my native shore. 
 Oh ! waft me to that sunny land, 
 
 To rest forevermore. 
 
 12(» 
 
THERE'S A MAID IN THE MIST. 
 
 There's a maid in the mist, take care, 
 That has silvery shining hair, 
 
 Through the air 'tis spread 
 
 Like a silken thread; 
 There's a maid in the mist, beware! 
 
 The mist enshrouds her form, take care. 
 Naught is seen but her snowy hair, 
 
 Like a fine spun veil 
 
 Is this halo pale 
 That conceals this sprite of the air. 
 
 Yet this maid can never be found. 
 Although oft has the thrilling sound. 
 
 Of her laughter long — 
 
 Of her joyous song — 
 Misled the sailor shoreward bound. 
 
 Beware, beware, take care, take care. 
 She's combing her shadowy hair. 
 
 This waif of the sea — 
 
 Is no love for thee — 
 O sailor lad, beware, beware ! 
 
 121 
 
THERE S A MAID IX THE MIST. 
 
 This maid of the mist does not care. 
 She heeds not how her victims fare, 
 
 Her song- is follow — 
 
 Her heart is hollow — 
 List not this phantom's song, so fair. 
 
 Her harp is strung- with threads of hair, 
 Silver threads, that glimmer and glare, 
 
 Gleam and glare with light 
 
 Luring ships at night. 
 O sailor lad, thy heart I'd spare! 
 
 Trust her winsome song, O never. 
 You'll find her heart false, forever. 
 
 For you'll run ashore — 
 
 And return no more — 
 No matter how brave and clever. 
 
 Keep from the shore nor wait to hear 
 The siren's song, low. soft and clear. 
 
 Away, from her spell 
 
 For the fog bells tell 
 Death to the sailor lad so dear. 
 
 122 
 
A DEDICATION FOR A SCRAP BOOK. 
 
 Place here-in, but choose with dexterous care, 
 Precious thoug-hts, humorous, bright, wise and fair : 
 Gems, that will give a crowning- to thy life. 
 Bits gathered from the world of busy strife ; 
 Wisdom, knowledge and merry mirth so gay, 
 Should fill thy scrap book with their joyful lay ; 
 Till, completely filled like a well spent day 
 No grief 'twill cost thee to lav it away. 
 
 123 
 
WHO WOULD YOU MARRY. 
 
 Prithee, who would you marry, 
 
 The Boston girl with classic brow. 
 Who, when you ask her, says : — "Not now ;" 
 Or maiden with romantic head 
 Who thinks of narght except to wed; 
 
 Say, is it best to marry? 
 
 Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 
 
 Prithee, who would you marry, 
 
 A New York miss with charming way, 
 Who ne'er believes one half you say, 
 Or maiden rich in land and gold 
 To care for you, when you are old ; 
 
 Say, is it best to marry? 
 
 Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 
 
 Prithee, who would you marry, 
 A Philadelphian heart free. 
 Who knows by rote her pedigree. 
 Or corntry lass, who laughs at morn 
 And never plavs the maid forlorn ; 
 
 Say, is it best to marrv? 
 
 Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 
 
 T24 
 
WHO WOULD YOU MARRY. 
 
 Prithee, who would you marry, 
 
 A Baltimore belle with face divine, 
 And lips the shade of ruby wine, 
 Or bit of child with piquant ways 
 And a sweet voice to sing soft lays ; 
 
 Say, is it best to marry ? 
 
 Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 
 
 Prithee, who would you marry, 
 
 A Washington pet, this year out. 
 Whose life is gay beyond a doubt. 
 Or girl of sense who works each day 
 And has a heart both blithe and gay; 
 
 Say, is it best to marry? 
 
 Nay, nay, I pray thee tarry. 
 
 Prithee, who would you marry, 
 
 A charming, classic, laughing maid, 
 Romantic, piquant, not afraid. 
 With good old name, a face to love. 
 And common sense all these above; 
 
 If she love thee, then marry, 
 
 For 'tis not wise to tarn,-. 
 
 125 
 
ANSWERED. 
 
 Oh ! where are the ripples that ruffled the brook, 
 
 As beside it we rested a while ; 
 Oh ! think you they sing o'er the stones as they pass 
 
 By the broken old mossy grown stile ? 
 
 Oh ! where are the sunbeams that played on the mead - 
 As we loitered beneath the oak's shade ; — 
 
 Pray, think you they dance there as brightly to-day 
 As they enter the path in the glade? 
 
 Are our hearts just as light as in youth's bright day? 
 
 Do our steps to sweet music resound ? 
 Does the future hold care ? Has the past no song 
 
 That is wrapped in heart-memories 'round? 
 
 The brook ripples on to its home in the sea, 
 
 And the stile is the same as of yore ; 
 While the sunbeams they dance and leap in their play 
 
 In the path in the glade as before. 
 
 If our hearts then so young have grown kinder, love, 
 
 Let us sing all the songs over, dear, 
 Then past days or future, what are they compared 
 
 To the joy laden present that's here. 
 
 126 
 
NOVEMBER. 
 
 The amber light of summer 
 
 Is faded from earth away, 
 The opalescent glimmer, 
 
 Of this chill November day. 
 Casts shadows gray and lonely, 
 
 And the earth seems sad and drear 
 With milky clouds above us, 
 
 And no sunshine near to cheer. 
 
 127 
 
BIRTHDAY WISHES. 
 
 Wishes and what are they? 
 
 They but express in part 
 The gladness and the love 
 
 That's locked within the heart. 
 Birthdays and what are they? 
 
 But cycles full, complete — 
 A year closed, one begun 
 
 With mem'ries sad or sweet. 
 Of those gone, all is well, 
 
 Of those to come I pray, 
 God's blessing rich and full 
 
 May meet thee day by day. 
 
 128 
 
TWO VIEWS. 
 
 There was an old woman named Bunday, 
 Who always made bread of a Sunday ; 
 
 And the rest of the week 
 
 She would ev'ry day seek, 
 
 In her work where she could 
 
 To be doing some good ; 
 But alas ! never paused one moment to think 
 That in giving the poor both victuals and drink. 
 She was wicked to make bread of a Sunday. 
 
 There was an old woman named Lunday, 
 Who went to church every Sunday ; 
 
 And all the year around 
 
 At church service was found. 
 
 For her sins she would say 
 
 A prayer every day, 
 But she never once opened her purse I'm told, 
 To give to the heathen a bit of her gold. 
 Though, from church she never stayed of a Sundaj 
 
 129 
 
TWO VIEWS. 
 
 Now, these two dames, Bimday and Lunday, 
 Made different uses of Sunday; 
 
 One prayed by loving deeds, 
 One followed only creeds; 
 And this is just the way 
 With the folks of this day, 
 It matters not much where you happen to be. 
 These two kinds of people you are sure to see. 
 And they make different uses of Sunday. 
 
 130 
 
A SINGLE PAGE. 
 
 I know a cool and shady nook, 
 
 Where mountain mint doth grow; 
 Violets white delight the sight 
 
 And babbling brook doth flow. 
 Near by the fern, the maiden hair, 
 
 Waves gently to and fro; 
 Beyond the rill, the pink cranesbill 
 
 Makes pasture lands to glow. 
 To plant life, e'en a thousand kinds, 
 
 The humid soil gives birth. 
 The meadow lark, with crescent dark. 
 
 Builds here her nest near earth. 
 The flag, the cattail and the rush, 
 
 Have sermons for the sage, 
 Who from this nook, in Nature's book, 
 
 Reads but a single page. 
 
 131 
 
BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS. 
 
 Could we but cross the border-land of thought, 
 And chain the years that swiftly glide. 
 
 We would have always sunshine and fair youth, 
 But never the sweet eventide. 
 
 Hearts all would beat in unison and joy, 
 And birthdays ne'er would make us glad ; 
 
 No shadows o'er our pathway then would fail, 
 No sorrow then would make us sad. 
 
 The Father planned the changing years of life. 
 The seasons as they come and go ; 
 
 'Tis best that e'en the roses fade and die, 
 Or else we had not loved them so. 
 
 We see the years slip by us one by one. 
 And sadly oft we say, "Farewell;" 
 
 We try to look beyond the future's veil, 
 Where all our aspirations dwell. 
 
 Each year we find the far off hope less near, 
 The daylight fades ere heights are won. 
 
 But if we keep our armor clean and bright, 
 We'll hear the Master's praise, "Well done." 
 
 132 
 
MARCH. 
 
 You gusty, blustering, noisy fellow, 
 
 Unruly child, all hurry and scurry, 
 You always seem glad to be in a whirl, 
 
 And are forever in such a worry. 
 Why can not you take things easy and be, 
 
 A little peaceful, a wee bit smiling ; 
 Just once for the sake of letting us think 
 
 Our hearts from sorrow, you are beguiling. 
 You come like a great electrical shock 
 
 A clamorous message along a wire, 
 I wonder you would not rest for a while, 
 
 And, prithee, my dear, do you never tire 
 Of blowing and throwing the signs about, 
 
 Endangering folks at peace out walking? 
 Say, stormy, swaggering, boisterous March, 
 
 Why don't you lower your voice in talking? 
 Impetuous, frisky, vehement one. 
 
 Spoiled child, ill mannered, wilful and haughty 
 Of all the children of old Father Time, 
 
 You are the one most frequently naughty. 
 
 ^33 
 
THE PHANTOM FORM. 
 
 Listen, sweet ! It is her footstep 
 
 Sounding on the oaken floor. 
 For I know her cheery greeting, 
 
 So I'll open wide the door. 
 There Fll see my darhng waiting 
 
 Oh! the rapture and the bUss, 
 Of the greeting of my darling, 
 
 And her loving, tender kiss. 
 
 Harken, dear! I am mistaken, 
 
 It is but a phantom form, 
 And the moaning of the night wind. 
 
 Telling of the coming storm. 
 No, it cannot be my darling. 
 
 For her voice was soft and sweet, 
 And beyond where / am waiting, 
 
 Would not pass her lithsome feet. 
 
 No, I cannot ope the casement, 
 
 Nor to-night unbar the door. 
 For those footsteps, phantom footsteps, 
 
 I have heard them oft before. 
 'Tis my heart that hears the knocking,- 
 
 She will enter never-more, — 
 For my darling, gently slumbers, 
 
 'Neath the silver sycamore. 
 
 134 
 
HIGHLAND LAKE. 
 
 ELDRED, N. Y. 
 
 Up among the quiet mountains, 
 
 A beauteous lake is seen, 
 On its bosom floats the Hly 
 
 Royal as a very queen, 
 All about, grow fern and laurel, 
 
 Weaving each, a garland fair, 
 And the breeze is heavy laden 
 
 With sweet perfume, rich and rare. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Highland beauty, oft shall fancy 
 Wake thy beauty in my heart; 
 
 Oft shall come the thoughts of summer 
 With the dreams thou didst impart. 
 
 Gliding o'er the silent water. 
 
 Resting in some shady nook. 
 Dancing 'neath the starry banner, 
 
 List'ning to the rippling brook; 
 Walking to the distant hamlet 
 
 Gay companions by our side, 
 Laughing, singing, telling stories 
 
 As upon the lake we glide. 
 
 US 
 
HIGHLAND LAKE. 
 
 Highland Lake, O, may thy beauty 
 
 Never fade nor seem less dear! 
 May the breeze that fans thy waters 
 
 Sing a gleesome song of cheer. 
 May the youths and happy maidens 
 
 Sport upon thy surface blue; 
 May their hearts be gay, yet kindly, 
 
 And their lives be good and true. 
 
 136 
 
HIGHLAND MAID. 
 
 Oh, dream, dream, dream away the daylight. 
 
 Till starry night shall deck the day's blue dome 
 Oh, love, love, lovely highland maiden — 
 Come, through the meadows let us roam, 
 Garlands wreathing. 
 Sweet songs breathing — 
 Oh, beauteous, airy summer day, 
 
 Leave, leave thy highlands, by the water 
 And we'll together dream the hours away ! 
 
 Oh, dream, dream, dreain with love enticing. 
 
 It gladdens hearts and makes them light as air ; 
 Oh, love, love, lovely highland daughter — 
 I'll crown thy bright and sunny hair. 
 How entrancing 
 To be dancing — 
 Gayly, lightly, lightly tread the way; 
 
 Come, leave thy highlands, by the water, 
 Ere pass the glad and joyous summer day! 
 
 137 
 
HIGHLAND MAID. 
 
 Oh, dream, dream, dream away the daylight, 
 
 In singing songs to sweet tunes by the hour. 
 Oh, love, love, lovely highland maiden, 
 Thou art the fairest mountain flow'r. 
 Sweet songs singing, 
 Lilies bringing. 
 Filling hours with love and joy for aye. 
 Oh, leave thy highlands, by the water. 
 And we'll together dream the hours away! 
 
 138 
 
HONEYSUCKLE DELL. 
 
 "Little maiden in the shade, 
 You'll be stolen I'm afraid; 
 With your dainty ways so shy, 
 Orbs as blue as yonder sky, 
 Rosebud lips and cheeks so pink, 
 I will steal you, yes, I think 
 I will steal you, winsome elf, 
 I will gain you for myself." 
 
 Just as I, these words had said, 
 Came a bee from overhead; 
 I was thinking of the maid, 
 Of the bee she was afraid; 
 On my nose he lighting, spoke! 
 But I did not like his joke! 
 "Cit)-^ chaps who fain would steal," 
 Said he, "Should be made to feel." 
 
 139 
 
HONEYSUCKLE DELL. 
 
 I did feel and left the maid 
 In the honeysuckle's shade ; 
 But the chap who stole her said,- 
 The year after he was wed. — 
 That "'the bee was kind to me, 
 And he wished a humble-bee 
 Had been kind to him as well 
 In the honeysuckle dell." 
 
 "Moral," said he, "do not steal, 
 Else a punishment you'll feel." 
 
 140 
 
THE REPLY. 
 
 TO M. W. A. 
 
 "What is a year?" If we but spend it well 
 
 It must have its own history to tell ; 
 
 "A year to live" is far better I say 
 
 Than the "might have been" of a yesterday. 
 
 Th' action of living brings its own reply. 
 
 The memories stored need no question "why;" 
 
 The spirit that dwells in every breast 
 
 Cries : — "I shall live again" and th' thought is blest. 
 
 A Messenger came from the land of light, 
 
 His coming illumined earth's pathway bright 
 
 By hope that shall last forever and aye, 
 
 Till love is perfect and sin pass away ; 
 
 What we have garnered He alone can tell 
 
 When work is o'er. If our tasks are done well 
 
 Our cry will be one of great joy not pain; 
 
 "We die in Christ" but we shall live again. 
 
 141 
 
A KINDERGARTEN SONG. 
 
 Wake up little blue eyes 
 
 Arise now I say. 
 The sunshine is coming 
 
 From over the way, 
 It soon will be school-time 
 
 And then you must go, 
 Where all the good children 
 
 May stand in a row. 
 
 Then dress in a hurry 
 
 Bright eyes at one call, 
 Come Jessie and Bessie 
 
 Nor tarry at all, 
 Now Freddie and Teddy 
 
 Come hasten away, 
 For the Kindergarten 
 
 Makes happy the day. 
 
 There teacher and children 
 
 May join hands and say, 
 Some bright pretty verses 
 
 Or sweet roundelay, 
 Then games to make merry 
 
 These children so nice. 
 Ere school-time is over 
 
 If still as wee mice. 
 
 142 
 
'It soon will be school-time. 
 
LIFE'S BEST. 
 
 "Oh, what was love made for, if 'tis not the same" 
 Through courtship and marriage, I beg you explain ; 
 I ask not for wealth, position nor glory, 
 But love must be mine to th' end of the story. 
 
 143 
 
TO MY FATHER. 
 
 It seems but yesterday, and yet 
 Full forty years have sped, — 
 
 Since by his side I tripped along, — 
 Where have the long years fled ? 
 
 Five passed in study, five in art, 
 
 Five playing by a rill, 
 Five teaching an impulsive heart 
 
 To be controlled at will. 
 
 Ten, in a cottage covered o'er 
 With roses bright and gay, 
 
 Slipped by while laboring for fame, 
 For which I strove each day. 
 
 Ten passed in leisure, with loved ones, 
 To bless my waning years. 
 
 So, this is how the time was spent, 
 I've left out all the tears. 
 
 144 
 
MUSIC. 
 
 Melodious music makes men glad 
 And gathers followers a throng, 
 
 Who, list'ning to its gladsome beauty, 
 Soul touched are braver for the song. 
 
 Children for music pause in playing, 
 By some strange impulse of the breast ; 
 
 The babe upon its mother's bosom 
 Is hushed by song to perfect rest. 
 
 The wanderer on distant prairie 
 Nearing some settler's cabin home. 
 
 And hearing the song his mother sang 
 Regrets the hour that made him roam, 
 
 Regrets and drinking in its beauty, 
 Resolves by those soft strains and low, 
 
 To change his course, retrace his footsteps, 
 And on the morrow homeward go. 
 
 The sailor on the wave tossed ocean 
 Singing his, "Ho ! heave ho ! heave ho ! 
 
 Oft cheers the hearts of tired travelers, 
 As o'er the bounding blue they go. 
 
 145 
 
MUSIC. 
 
 Some hearts that else by grief had drifted. 
 Are saved by music of a voice ; 
 
 Others, by some soul wrought song, become, 
 As slaves without a will of choice. 
 
 Sacred music makes all men to bow 
 
 Submissive to a Higher will. 
 And unbelievers believing come 
 
 Responsive to its solemn thrill. 
 
 The prima donna doth captive hold 
 The hearts of men, who homage give. 
 
 She hath the power to touch their souls 
 And make them better while they live. 
 
 The happiest music of the world, 
 Is Nature's voices glad and free; 
 
 And they who listening pause shall hear. 
 The world's most perfect symphony. 
 
 146 
 
TIME'S CHANGES. 
 
 There seems to be a change in things 
 
 Since you and I were boys ; 
 The street cars have no horses now, 
 
 The grist-mill few employs. 
 A mighty stride is being made, 
 
 And wire holds the power, 
 That is the push in ev'ry thing 
 
 In this prevailing hour. 
 
 There seems to be a change in things 
 
 As older here we grow, 
 The colleges are teaching now 
 
 A lot we do not know 
 About athletic sports and such. 
 
 But, when it comes to work. 
 The lesson that the boys learn best 
 
 Is how, a task, to shirk. 
 
 147 
 
TIME S CHANGES. 
 
 There seems to be a change in things, 
 
 Commencements by the score 
 Are not now what they used to be 
 
 In good old days of yore ; 
 Then folks went to the big town hall, 
 
 And say! it used to pay, 
 But now, some funny business 
 
 Fills up the classic day. 
 
 There seems to be a change in things, 
 
 Which, think you, is better. 
 The good old friendly handwriting, 
 
 Or, th' typewritten letter? 
 Ah, well. Time rushes on apace ! 
 
 We are not boys and so 
 We'll make the best of what we have, 
 
 While letting old ways go. 
 
 T48 
 
THE SEASONS. 
 
 The summer days are now no more, — 
 
 Joy days that made us glad, — 
 We sadly ask: — "Where have they gone?" 
 
 For fall days make us sad ; 
 The leaves are strewn in ev'ry path, 
 
 The flowers are asleep; 
 The birds have flown to other climes 
 
 And tangled wild woods deep. 
 
 With blessings is the summer full, 
 
 While spring and autumn days, 
 Are days in which the heart should sing 
 
 The sweetest, brightest lays; 
 The winter with its mantle soft 
 
 Of purest, whitest snow, 
 Is just the best time of the year, 
 
 Do you not think 'tis so? 
 
 149 
 
BONNETS AND SONNETS. 
 
 Forgotten lies last year's bonnet, 
 Neglected is last year's love, 
 
 Deep buried lies last year's sonnet 
 "To the clouds," that float above. 
 
 I've purchased a newer bonnet 
 That has won my later love, 
 
 By writing another sonnet 
 To the same old clouds above. 
 
 150 
 
THE CHIMNEY CLIMBER. 
 
 (Thoughts suggested while watching "Steeple Jack" pushing 
 his toilsome way to the top of the great chimney of Clark's 
 Thread Works.) 
 
 Say, who will climb yon chimney tall 
 
 And put a scaffold to its crown? 
 The mill is closed, the workers all 
 
 Are unemployed about the town. 
 Is there no one to say, — "Aye, here" ? 
 
 Has courage fled and valor died? 
 Think of the hungr}' and the dear 
 
 Who by this idleness are tried. 
 
 Forth from the throng a brave man pressed, 
 
 "Aye, here's the man the deed will do! 
 I'll scale the stack and only rest 
 
 When daylight fades and work is through. 
 I'll raise a ladder, climbing high. 
 
 And reach the topmost cap above, 
 Nor shall I faint, nor fall, nor die, 
 
 But liz-e to work for those I love." 
 
 i^i 
 
THE CHIMNEY CLIMBER. 
 
 So should we place our ideals high, 
 
 With purpose just as truly grand, 
 Scorning failure — "On ! up !" the cry, 
 
 Till at the summit's point we stand. 
 Then as we view the work thus done. 
 
 And count the rounds that all may climb. 
 Know our success is fully won ; 
 
 When others reach these heights sublime. 
 
 IS? 
 
THE BOWL OF MARIGOLDS. 
 
 As I sit here beside you, writing, 
 
 My heart the sunshine holds, 
 From your cheerful faces reflected. 
 
 Beautiful marigolds. 
 
 Your leaves are feathery and fragile, 
 Close to your stems they cling ; 
 
 While their piquant and spicy fragrance 
 Joy to my heart doth bring. 
 
 If "cruelty" be your life's emblem, 
 
 I understand not why 
 Unless, while we're paying you homage, 
 
 You fade away and die. 
 
 I gathered you in from the garden, 
 
 Be kind to me I pray, 
 Just to show that the old time fable, 
 
 At last, has passed away. 
 
 Yoiir dwelling shall be, this antique bowl. 
 This old time stand your sphere; 
 
 And all our hearts shall cease from grieving, 
 If you remain to cheer. 
 
 LS3 
 
THE PAST. 
 
 Begone, thou child of wav'ring fancy! 
 
 Nor in the present haunt our rest, 
 To-day is glad and bright and joyous, 
 
 With thee we would not be depressed. 
 We would look out into the future, 
 
 The spring time of a grand new birth ! 
 When birds and flow'rs and merry music, 
 
 Shall come again to deck the earth. 
 
 Not backward to those scenes familiar, 
 
 That caused our hearts such grief and pain. 
 But forward, where the mellow sunshine 
 
 Shall fill our souls with peace again. 
 We would not call to life and being. 
 
 The past though filled with mem'ries bright. 
 Begone, thou child of wav'ring fancy. 
 
 Into oblivion and ni^ht ! 
 
 154 
 
THE WANDERER. 
 
 I am a wanderer, so long- 
 Estranged from friends and those most dear, 
 
 That hke the roaming of the winds, 
 I have no home on earth, I fear. 
 
 I toiled for years and heaped up gold, 
 That distant countries I might see ; 
 
 And, having gained my fond desire, 
 I studied then to learned be 
 
 I sought in science, art and creeds, 
 To find beginnings and the end, 
 
 But never thought in my young life 
 Of love or of a dear, dear friend. 
 
 One day at dusk such mighty clouds, 
 
 Hung heavy in an English sky, 
 I thought, wliat is the world to me, 
 
 And who would care if I should die. 
 
 I wandered idly, here and there, 
 
 Until a lass I chanced to meet, 
 And stopping asked : — "Where are you bound 
 
 With heavy load my pretty sweet?" 
 
 155 
 
THE WANDERER. 
 
 "So near heaven, kind sir," she said 
 "It must be an errand of love; 
 
 Those who are waiting there, I ween. 
 Must hear the sweet music above." 
 
 "What is an errand of love, child, 
 And where is heaven," then I said, 
 
 "What is the song- you say they hear 
 And where are our beloved dead?" 
 
 "Errands of love are kind deeds done, 
 Which angels praise through gates ajar; 
 
 Heaven lies in humanity. 
 
 Not in some wondrous land afar." 
 
 Not these words did the lassie use, 
 But this the soul of what she said, 
 
 With hand on her heart she whispered, 
 "Here abide our beloved dead." 
 
 156 
 
"1 dream the vista of the coiuin.i^- days.'' 
 
STILLY NIGHT. 
 
 Oh, stilly night, in thy sereneness vast, 
 
 I pause, awe struck, in reverential fear. 
 The solemn splendor of the starry night, 
 
 A canopy gem-studded, doth appear! 
 An inspiration swells within my breast 
 
 A loftier, a higher height to gain, 
 Moved by its all impelling force I strive. 
 
 Though at the summit waits but grief and pain. 
 
 Oh, stilly night, in thy unbounded space 
 
 I am as naught in God's plan to compare, 
 Mysterious, soul examining hour. 
 
 The essence and the semblance of a prayer ! 
 Wherein I know, I feel a Higher Will, 
 
 That prompts my ev'ry act, my ev'ry thought, 
 And yielding to this providential force ; 
 
 In true devotion, kneeling, I am brought. 
 
 Oh, stilly night, in thy far distant height, 
 I dream the vista of the coming days, 
 
 And see bewildering, wondrous fancies, 
 
 And hear ?oft notes of glad, deliprhtsome lays ! 
 
 157 
 
STILLY MIGHT. 
 
 I know this all inspiring, solemn hour 
 Will fit the future, with its perfect strain 
 
 Of merry music from which shall never, 
 Arise a discord or an anguished pain. 
 
 Oh, stilly night, sweet benediction's hour, 
 
 Wherein glad, joyous, happy thoughts may sway 
 The enraptured soul, inspired of heaven. 
 
 With precious dreams that never come by day ! 
 In thy vast magnitude, oh, mighty night! 
 
 With thy strange influence o'er soul and brain, 
 Gazing on thy beauty, all inspiring, 
 
 I would fair heaven's perfect heights attain. 
 
 158 
 
THE POET'S INSPIRATION. 
 
 Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 
 
 Oh, loved one of the mind. 
 Cruel though Fate has been to us, 
 
 Yet thou wilt ever find, 
 One who believes that hour by hour 
 
 Will ope the perfect way. 
 And joy shall tune the unused harp. 
 
 And Love shall sing his lay. 
 
 Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 
 
 By thee my pulse is thrilled. 
 The power of thy influence 
 
 Hath all my being filled ; 
 No one can change the harp, dear heart. 
 
 It lisps its own decree, 
 Wild notes of love, pure notes of love, 
 
 Through-out eternity. 
 
 Thou art resting on my heart, dear. 
 
 My trust is all in thee. 
 My love, my light, my life, my hope, 
 
 Thou art all this to me ; 
 A dream, my fair Adonis still, 
 
 Of all my song the soul ; 
 The idol of perfected thought, 
 
 The chime that echoes roll. 
 
 159 
 
THE POET S INSPIRATION. 
 
 Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 
 
 Thou beauteous child of joy, 
 Carved by the art that loving hands 
 
 To fashion thee employ; 
 Thy marble beauty seems to warm 
 
 Whene'er thy name I lisp. 
 Thou art pale marble then no more 
 
 Nor fleet Will-O'-The-Wisp. 
 
 Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 
 
 A vision fair and sweet, 
 Oft bearing me to far off climes, 
 
 On wings or fairy feet. 
 There warmed by some soft wooing sky, 
 
 'Neath which there is no strife, 
 By some melodious song I sing. 
 
 Thou gainest joyous life. 
 
 Thou art resting on my heart, dear, 
 
 Creation of my dream ; 
 Perfected thought, perfected love. 
 
 Of heaven's bliss a gleam. 
 From labyrinths of fancy, thou 
 
 Hast found this heart of mine, 
 And all the songs that I shall sing 
 
 Foreverniore are thine. 
 
 i6o 
 
THE VILLAGE. 
 
 I think I see it, as I saw it then, 
 
 In the first rose blush of the morning's dawn ; 
 Ere the sun had Hghted the mountain's side 
 
 With a golden glow ; ere the pearly fawn 
 Of the vapor soft, that clings like a robe, — 
 
 Enshrouding the valley and mountain's brow, — 
 Had lifted its veil like a blushing maid; 
 
 Of that village I'm dreaming now. 
 
 A mist comes over my eyes as I dream 
 
 In futile longings for that olden time ; 
 I lose the present as memory drifts 
 
 Back to that morning that was half sublime. 
 In the roseate glow of that fair morn, 
 
 The future and the mountain seemed so near. 
 Only the valley to travel across. 
 
 The way looked short, life's sky was clear. 
 
 i6i 
 
THE VILLAGE. 
 
 I think I can see a fair golden head, 
 
 As a tiny form swings out on the gate ; 
 Oh ! the dear old cottage where I was born, 
 
 How oft I have wondered as to its fate. 
 I dream that the village has not been changed, 
 
 That children play on the green as of yore ; 
 That youths and fair maidens walk hand in hand ; 
 
 Shall I e'er see that village more? 
 
 But dreams fade swiftly, as the mists that rise 
 
 With each rosy day as it draweth near; 
 Yet music they bring from the long ago, 
 
 That is doubly sweet to the dreamer's ear. 
 And the village then as I saw it first. 
 
 Asleep at the foot of the wooded hill 
 Is a picture I love to dwell upon. 
 
 And in fancy I see it still. 
 
 163 
 
LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 Didst ever pause, while deep in meditation 
 On the life that is and that which is to be, 
 
 And think, that there is room for greater action, 
 And far nobler thoughts than those that rise in thee ? 
 
 That thy least thought, or noblest word shall ever 
 
 Pass on and on and forever, ever roll. 
 That, what we call life and what we think is death, 
 
 Are but two separate garments of the soul ? 
 
 The first so tinted is and so well shaded. 
 
 That it shows the Artist's high light strong and clear ; 
 The second is a Rembrandt so rich and dark, 
 
 Yet so beautiful, it takes away our fear. 
 
 163 
 
COULD WE. 
 
 Could we but lift the curtain fronii the hearts 
 Of those who sorrow in our daily life, 
 
 Could we but ease their griefs, that pierce like darts 
 Then might we live for something in earth's strife. 
 
 Could we but bridges build o'er failings here, 
 With cables strong, abysses dark to span, 
 
 Then might we make life glad and full of cheer, 
 And be a helper to our fellow man. 
 
 Could we but know some smiling face to-day 
 A sorrow masks, as onward here we go. 
 
 We would not pass with careless word and gay, 
 And leave that one to grieve, could we but know. 
 
 164 
 
THE BLIND WISHER. 
 
 I wish I were all that thou art, love, 
 I wish I were what I should be, 
 
 I wish all the thoughts that I have, love, 
 Were the good thoughts I think of thee. 
 
 I wish all the good we should do, love. 
 Were less hard, more easy to do, 
 
 I wish all the fickle in life, love. 
 Would learn to be faithful and true. 
 
 I wish I could make the sad, gay, love. 
 By deeds I would willingly dare, 
 
 I wish I could make the bad, good, love. 
 By lisping my childhood's wee prayer. 
 
 I wish that the poor were not poor, love, 
 I wish that their lot were more blest, 
 
 I wish that the rich were more wise, love. 
 And they had a heart in each breast. 
 
 165 
 
THE BLIND WISHER. 
 
 But what is a wish worth, I ween, love, 
 Unless it could bring thee to me, 
 
 But if it could bring thee to me, love. 
 Thy face I could never more see. 
 
 But wishing is vain and not wise, love. 
 Because my eyes never can see, 
 
 For weeping hath blinded my sight, love. 
 Hath blinded, while wishing for thee. 
 
 i66 
 
DO NOT DELAY. 
 
 We danced all night till morning-. 
 
 Fair Polly, Bess and I, 
 Along with Molly Bassett 
 
 And Jack and Bert and Cy, 
 And little blue eyed Nelly, — 
 
 I seem to see her yet ; — 
 Her ways so bright and winning, 
 
 I never shall forget. 
 
 I led her through the lanciers, 
 
 Adown the polished floor ; 
 She nodded to the others, 
 
 Beside the open door. 
 I said the little nothings, — 
 
 That folks say as they dance, — 
 To speak the words that filled me, 
 
 I failed to find a chance. 
 
 167 
 
DO NOT DELAY. 
 
 Alas ! for fate and fortune, 
 
 For in the next quadrille, 
 I saw her smiling sweetly, 
 
 On my big brother Will. 
 And he found time to tell her, 
 
 The words I would have said, 
 And so he won fair Nelly, 
 
 The one I thought to wed. 
 
 A moral has this story. 
 If you have aught to say, 
 
 Just speak right up and say it. 
 You lose if you delay. 
 
 168 
 
SERENADE ANITA. 
 
 Oh, fair Anita, wake, oh wake ! 
 Sleep hath its charms, but for my sake 
 
 Sleep thou no more, 
 
 I thee adore. 
 Why dream if I thy love be near. 
 Wake for my sake if I be dear; 
 
 Loved Anita, 
 
 Dear Anita, 
 What eyes on earth are there so bright 
 That sparkling with their magic light 
 
 Hold such power 
 
 Through ev'ry hour ! 
 Oh ! loved Anita, wake, oh ! wake. 
 Sleep hath its charms, but for mv sake 
 
 Dream thou no more, 
 I thee adore. 
 
 169 
 
"TOTS." 
 
 TO J, F. M. 
 
 I kissed the child, as he played at my feet, 
 Where I sat in the mellow golden light 
 
 Of an autumn day, as the sun declined, 
 
 While my heart was full of a sweet delight. 
 
 And there on the bank of the old, old road, 
 I sat, till the sunbeams grew tired of play, 
 
 Twining gay wreaths for his fair baby curls, 
 As garlands of love on an autumn day. 
 
 But my hands grew cold, as the wreaths I twined, 
 The sunbeams faded away in the west, 
 
 "Oh, Dearie ! my. Dearie !" the baby cried, 
 'T want to go home, I like home the best." 
 
 Then we hurried home to the loved hearthstone. 
 Where the warmth and the light of love held sway ; 
 
 And carried our garlands of blue and gold. 
 Our harvest of blooms, of an autumn day. 
 
 170 
 
"TOTS." 
 
SPRING. 
 
 Softly sighing through the pine trees, 
 Came the breeze all laden rare ; 
 
 Kissing now and then my forehead, 
 Fanning oft my tumbled hair. 
 
 Came the breezes sweet a wooing, 
 With scented breath of flowers ; 
 
 Hidden in the mossy woodland, 
 
 Though I'd sought them many hours. 
 
 And their sweetness, from their shelter, 
 Tossed by southern zephyrs fair. 
 
 Filled my soul with wondrous calmness 
 That had strength to banish care. 
 
 Till the subtle, hidden sweetness. 
 Bore me on to heaven's gate, 
 
 Where no dreary winter enters 
 
 Where for spring one need not wait. 
 
 171 
 
SPRING, 
 
 Like the breezes, softly sighing, 
 Passed the vision far away; 
 
 Left me thinking of the problems, 
 That are ours from day to day. 
 
 Why we only grasp the summer 
 As the breezes bring the fall ; 
 
 Only see the golden autumn, 
 
 When drear winter claimeth all. 
 
 172 
 
THE PASTEBOARD BOX. 
 
 It is but a pasteboard shoe-box, 
 
 Badly worn and very old, 
 And 'tis filled so full of letters 
 
 Not another can it hold. 
 
 I will just look through its contents 
 To decide which ones to keep ; 
 
 There are letters full of comfort. 
 There are some o'er which I weep. 
 
 Those tied with a golden ribbon 
 Oh, with those I ne'er shall part, 
 
 They were written by my mother 
 From a mother's loving heart. 
 
 "Friends" is marked upon this package, 
 I will read them o'er and see 
 
 From their number just how many, 
 To the flames consigned may be. 
 
 1/3 
 
THE PASTEBOARD BOX. 
 
 I have read the letters over, 
 
 All the sad ones and the gay, 
 And so much of youth they've brought me, 
 
 I shall not burn them to-day. 
 
 In the box I'll put the letters, 
 Though 'tis verv' worn and old, 
 
 And I'll tie on close the cover, 
 For the box no more can hold. 
 
 174 
 
A LULLABY. 
 
 Over the mountain, darling, 
 Over the mountain high, 
 
 We're going on a journey 
 To land of Lullaby. 
 
 Over the hill tops, darling. 
 
 Over the stony way. 
 To land of faultless footsteps. 
 
 To land of Perfect Day. 
 
 Over the mountain, darling, 
 Where dreams of rosy hue 
 
 Shall light your eyes, my darling. 
 Your baby eyes of blue. 
 
 Over the hill tops, darling, 
 No Wake-up land is there ; 
 
 Over the hill tops, darling, 
 There is no need of prayer. 
 
 175 
 
SUCH A LITTLE CHILD. 
 
 "Will you tell me little maiden 
 
 Why your eyes are wet with tears ? 
 
 Will you tell me why no laughter 
 "Round your pretty mouth appears?" 
 
 " 'Cause I've broken my big- dolly, 
 And my doggy's gone astray, 
 
 And I can't have any candy 
 
 'Cause my daddy's gone away." 
 
 "Mamma says, — 'I'm cross and naughty,' 
 
 Susan's busy with her pies, 
 And I dare not play with Freddy 
 
 Mamma says, — 'He tells such lies.' " 
 
 "So I've no one left to love me, 
 
 I've a dreadful lot of cares. 
 And I want to go to heaven 
 
 But I cannot find the stairs, 
 
 If I could, I'd go directly," 
 Here the little darling smiled ; 
 
 "But, oh, dear, I cannot find them 
 For I'm such a little child." 
 
 176 
 
ADVICE. 
 
 Beware of yonder parlor 
 
 You foolish little fly, 
 For don't you see the spider 
 
 Has mischief in his eye ? 
 
 His winding stairs will make you 
 Quite giddy in the head, 
 
 And you'll no more come down them 
 When you are cold and dead. 
 
 His parlor, rainbow tinted, 
 
 Is neat as he doth say ; 
 But when he once hath caught you, 
 
 You cannot get away. 
 
 Beware, you silly house fly. 
 Don't climb his tempting stair, 
 
 But seek your humble living 
 Out in the open air. 
 
 Perhaps his offered parlor, 
 May seem a pretty sight, 
 
 But beauty often leads one 
 Into a sorry plight. 
 
 // 
 
GRANDMA'S TREASURES. 
 
 A bunch of withered flowers, the likeness of a face, 
 Some letters worn by reading with here and there a trace, 
 As if the heart had filled, like an overflowing spring, 
 In grandma's box I found these, with a wee baby's ring. 
 
 178 
 
MY SAILOR BOY, 
 
MY SAILOR BOY. 
 
 My sailor boy went sailing far 
 
 Across the stormy deep, 
 I knew the dangers he must brave 
 
 And this caused me to weep. 
 
 I watched my sailor boy depart; 
 
 He waved his hand and cried : — 
 "I shall be back again, some day 
 
 Upon the rising tide." 
 
 He sailed away, oh, far away, — 
 
 Across the dining room, — 
 I heard him shout, "Heave ho! Heave ho! 
 
 My heart was filled with gloom! 
 
 The ship was rocking very hard, 
 
 The blue waves rolling high, 
 The ceiling of the dining room 
 
 Made dark my sailor's sky ! 
 
 But little cared my sailor boy 
 
 Bound now for Liverpool ; 
 He steered his ship without a chart, 
 
 Or rigid, laid down rule! 
 
 T70 
 
MY SAILOR BOY. 
 
 Full soon his ship reached England's shore 
 
 And then, for France set sail, 
 Both voyages were safely made 
 
 Without a single gale ! 
 
 He did not land, but turned about 
 For Gotham this time bound; 
 
 It was a flying trip he made. 
 For by the clock I found 
 
 It took just half an hour to go 
 
 Across the raging sea, 
 And for the rising tide to bring 
 
 My sailor back to me ! 
 
 God grant upon life's voyage when 
 
 Storms come and skies are drear, 
 My sailor boy may steer his ship 
 From all life's whirlpools clear. 
 
 i8o 
 
VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Yes, of course the Volunteer won, 
 Pray how could it otherwise be? 
 
 She needed no gale 
 
 To fill out her sail 
 To race with the Thistle, you see. 
 
 I think it is certainly true 
 
 That thistles should remain on land ; 
 
 They're not aquatic, 
 
 And not erratic. 
 And were meant on the ground to stand. 
 
 Then let the bonny Scotchman name 
 Their boats more appropriately ; 
 
 For it is a trick, 
 
 A thistle will stick 
 Wherever it happens to be. 
 
 i8i 
 
VOLUNTEER. 
 
 We are young as a nation now, 
 Yet already our place is made; 
 And whate'er the breeze, 
 Or where'er the seas, 
 America is not afraid. 
 
 For, our center board's true as steel. 
 To our nation or yacht applied. 
 And the cup we'll keep. 
 While opponents weep, 
 As o'er the Atlantic they glide. 
 
 182 
 
SOME OF MY GENEALOGY, 
 
 First John and Priscilla of Mayflower fame. 
 Who wedded in Plymouth soon after they came; 
 They settled in Duxbury and th' records declare 
 Eleven boys and girls in their love had a share. 
 Next, Joseph, their son, who in Bridgewater dwelt, 
 A fanner because 'twas his duty he felt ; 
 Mary Simmons he wedded, was happy they say 
 And six sons and daughters lent joy to their day. 
 Deacon Joseph, their son, lived in Bridgewater, too, 
 Esteemed in the church where he found much to do ; 
 Hannah Dunham of Plymouth he took for his bride, 
 Their ten boys and girls added much to their pride. 
 Th' Deacon's son, Samuel, lived in Titicut, Mass., 
 And successfully wooed Captain Edson's bright lass 
 Abiah by name, and their home came to hold 
 Nine bright boys and girls by the records we're told. 
 Next Josiah, their son, who moved quite "out west," 
 And settled in Ludlow, as that place he liked best; 
 Then, fair Bathsheba Jones of Raynham he wed. 
 And nine boys and girls brought them joy it is said. 
 Their daughter Abiah, two dozen years old, 
 Benjamin Winchester wedded so we are told. 
 Three sons and a daughter to their household came, 
 Ere Death the grim monarch the mother did claim. 
 
 183 
 
SOME OF MY GENEALOGY. 
 
 Their son, Hosea, my grandfather and thine, 
 Wed John Robbins's daughter the fair EmeHne ; 
 Two children they had, one thy mother and mine 
 Who bore Hke her mother the name Emeline. 
 Henry Adams she married, three daughters had they, 
 JMyra, Gertrude and Elsie which comes to our day 
 The ninth generation from the Mayflower time, 
 To make easy remembrance I've put all in rhyme. 
 
 184 
 
CASTLES. 
 
 As I sat before the fender 
 Building castles in the air, 
 
 Came a fairy teasing-, tempting 
 Me from out my easy chair. 
 
 Nearer, nearer came the darling 
 Gliding softly to my side; 
 
 As I stretched my arms to grasp her 
 "No, you don't," she sweetly cried. 
 
 Then I said : "I'm of? to napping. 
 Don't you bother me, so there — 
 
 You have spoiled my fairy visions 
 That were floating in mid air." 
 
 "Papa's cross," — I heard her musing, 
 "Don't you think so kitty, say, 
 
 To be making ugly castles 
 That so quickly fly away" ? 
 
 185 
 
CASTLES. 
 
 "When we build our castles kitty 
 They'll be tall and grand and high, 
 
 And we would not be surprised 
 If they reached up to the sky." 
 
 Thus I listened, nearly dozing, 
 To the baby on the floor ; 
 
 And to conscience's gentle ra|) tap 
 Till I could not bear it more. 
 
 Then I took my darling loved one 
 In my arms and tossed her high, 
 
 Till she said with eyes asparkle : — 
 "I'm your castle in the sky," 
 
 i86 
 
TRUDY. 
 
 "You can see her any clay 
 At the Library," they say, 
 If you'll walk around that way; 
 And her name it should be May, 
 Though 'tis Trudy I hear say, 
 Trudy Hepburn Flyaway. 
 I wish that I had power, — 
 To paint her in a bower, — 
 Bubbling o'er with winsome glee, 
 With her heart so light and free, 
 I would pose her lips to speak; 
 And I'd tint her lily cheek 
 With the soft blush of the rose ; 
 And her dainty little nose 
 I would paint with care and skill, 
 Then with buds her lap Td fill. 
 I would tangle up her hair 
 Make it fall about her there. 
 Like a halo, like a crown, 
 Fairest lassie in the town. 
 "You can see her any day 
 At the Library," they say. 
 
 187 
 
TRUDY. 
 
 Any day at half past four. 
 Poring over fairy lore ; 
 Drinking sunshine, sipping dew, 
 Half believing fairies true ; 
 Weaving fancies passing fleet 
 That make ev'ry moment sweet. 
 Ev'ry one who knows concedes 
 She is quiet when she reads, 
 Then she is demure I'm told 
 Though she is but twelve years old ; 
 But the rest of ev'ry day 
 She is Trudy Flyaway, 
 Winsome, happy, laughing, gay, 
 My young neighbor Flyaway. 
 
 188 
 
"Poring over fairy lore." 
 
MOVING DAY. 
 
 How children love a moving day! 
 
 They clap their hands in glee, 
 And putting heads together say: — 
 
 "Now, then, what shall we be? 
 
 Oh, yes, we'll all be gipsy men, 
 
 The stove's a buffalo. 
 Mamma won't care, how things look when 
 
 It's moving day, you know ! 
 
 The chairs we'll place to form a tent; 
 
 A shawl our roof shall be; 
 Our fire, will not require a vent 
 
 If not a flame you see. 
 
 It's only just a make believe 
 
 Of sticks and paper red; 
 A fire would cause mamma to grieve. 
 
 And may be make us dead." 
 
 The children all love moving day, 
 
 In it but joy they see, 
 Oh, would we were as blithe as they, 
 
 With hearts as lig^ht and free. 
 
 189 
 
THE JOLLY GROCER. 
 
 There was a jolly grocer-man 
 
 Who lived in Newark town, 
 And to some little folks he was 
 
 A man of great renown. 
 He was good natured, always kind, 
 
 And any one could see, 
 That his customers, ranged in years, 
 
 From three to eighty-three. 
 He had the goodies in his store 
 
 In view upon a shelf, 
 He kept them there, I'm thinking, just 
 
 To tempt some little elf. 
 He had cookies, cakes and candies, 
 
 Nuts, citron, figs and spice, 
 Grapes, maple sugar, raisins, prunes 
 
 And other things as nice. 
 Oh, many, many, many times, 
 
 In days long, long ago. 
 We tried to keep our pennies but 
 
 They burned our pockets so, 
 We had to take them down the street 
 
 And leave them at the store. 
 Where the jolly grocer met us 
 
 All smiling at the door ! 
 
 190 
 
THE WIND STORM. 
 
 Down, down came the torrents of splashing rain, 
 
 With a whirl and mighty hurrying force, 
 And the gusty wind kissed the window pane, 
 
 Fining the chimney with its sad remorse ; 
 Like a school-boy loudly it cried "boo-hoo" 
 
 And then it crept through the tall reeds sighing ; 
 Till you would have thought all it had to do, 
 
 Was to keep dear little children crying. 
 
 Around, around, hastening up and down. 
 
 Then forward and back, as in the lancers, 
 First here and then there, all over the town 
 
 Glides Mister Wind, the chief king of dancers; 
 His voice as sad as Love's is when weeping, 
 
 He acts in his play like a gay coquette ; 
 Yon swaying poplar awakes the sleeping, 
 
 For the wind is wild and the night is wet. 
 
 Rattle, rattle goes the shutter and door, 
 
 "Let me come in," cries the wind in the air, 
 
 "Long has it been since I came here before. 
 Surely this time you must grant me my prayer ; 
 
 191 
 
THE WIND STORM. 
 
 Else the green goblins while you are sleeping, 
 I'll send in the next gust to haunt your rest ; 
 
 From ev'ry shadow you'll see them peeping, 
 From the chimney comer and oaken chest." 
 
 Rushing, rushing, with wild splashing and roar! 
 
 Is the ocean mad, I should like to know, 
 The breakers that hiss as they rush ashore, 
 
 To-night are as white as heaven-sent snow ; 
 Sorrow enough you've wrought in your rushing, 
 
 No rest shall you find in my home to-night, 
 For many ships and true hearts you're crushing, 
 
 Go, with your "goblins" and threatening might 
 
 103 
 
cq 
 
 
THE WAIF. 
 
 Of what shall I write, of sorrow or care. 
 Of misery keen oft bringing despair, 
 Of hearts a-weary, or of waves that sigh 
 As they rush on the shore, then fade and die 
 Of their own force, like a summer day's dream ? 
 Oh, tell me, I pray, what shall be my theme ! 
 
 I know. I wonder I ne'er thought before 
 Of the babe, that sat by the open door 
 Of the cottage "Brier" over the way. 
 Where I watched him playing many a day ; 
 Bright was his hair as the sun in the skies, 
 Blue were his eyes that looked up in surprise. 
 
 This poor little waif was left at their door 
 
 One cold winter's night, when work it was o'er, 
 
 For no one loved him and nobody cared 
 
 It seemed, how this bit of a mortal fared. 
 
 But its pitiful cry a mother heard, 
 
 And promptly responded without a word. 
 
 She took baby in and nursed it with care. 
 Loved it, cherished it, said many a prayer 
 For the babe, but hoped as the days passed by, 
 To take her darling not a one would try ; 
 For she and her household all loved the child. 
 The neighbors as well rejoiced when he smiled. 
 
 193- 
 
THE WAIF. 
 
 The years passed silently, swiftly away, 
 
 The babe grew rosy, "the mother" more gray, 
 
 Till He who guided the child to her door, 
 
 Summoned her home to eternity's shore; 
 
 Then the child grew restless and would not play, 
 
 Nor laugh in the sunshine, from day to day ; 
 
 But crept to her grave and softly he cried, 
 
 Till the wee heart broke and "Our Sunshine" died, 
 
 Where his aching heart had a vigil kept, 
 
 There the neighbors found him and thought he slept, 
 
 But the joyous light of his clear blue eyes 
 
 Had faded forever from earthly skies. 
 
 194 
 
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THE SLEIGH RIDE. 
 
 Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 
 
 Hear the merry sleigh-bells ring, 
 Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! 
 
 Do you hear the children sing. 
 They are off for a frolic, 
 
 They are off for a ride. 
 They are packed close together 
 
 In the sleigh side by side. 
 
 Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 
 
 Full of joy and glee they glide. 
 Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 
 
 They have not a thought beside, 
 They are off from their lessons, 
 
 They are off for the day. 
 They are leaving all their books 
 
 And their tasks far away. 
 
 Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 
 
 Hear the trumpet's long-drawn blast, 
 Jingle ! Jingle ! Jingle ! 
 
 As they rush and hurry past, 
 Good-by, dear little light hearts, 
 
 Good-by, dear hearts so gay. 
 When next you go sleigh-riding 
 
 I hope you'll pass my way. 
 
 195 
 
THE SLEIGH RIOE. 
 
 Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! 
 
 They're returning, I declare! 
 Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! 
 
 Sounds upon the evening air: 
 They've checks as red as roses, 
 
 And eyes like stars at nig^l, 
 Oh! I think I never saw 
 
 One-half so fair a sight. 
 
 196 
 
CHANGE. 
 
 I said to a sunbeam : — "Oh, come let us play, 
 But the sunbeam it danced and glided away ! 
 I said to the wind : — "You rollicking rover, 
 You have kissed the rose and tumbled the clover, 
 Sing me a melody, I pray you, just one ;" 
 But at its beginning he cried : — "I am done." 
 Then I said to a brook : — "You mischievous elf 
 Why do you keep singing so much to yourself? 
 You are always rippling and running away, 
 Oh, I beg you one moment, with me, to stay ! 
 But it only gurgled and bubbled the more 
 And left me as puzzled as ever before. 
 Next, I said to the stars with their twinkling light, 
 "What joke are you glistening over to-night ? 
 You seem to be always so full of your glee, 
 Pretty stars, pretty stars please tell it to me. 
 But blinking and winking they gently went out. 
 And I know not yet what their glee was about; 
 In turn to each season, I cried in despair : — 
 "Oh, spring days, oh, June days and autumn so fair. 
 
 197 
 
CHANGE. 
 
 Why do al! tilings change and our loved pass away ?'' 
 Then winter made answer in this Httle lay: — 
 "The child that is laughing and singing in play, 
 The sunbeam so bright as it flitteth away; 
 The wind and the brook, the stars and the flower 
 They every one change with each fleeting hour. 
 The dear ones you love, they must fade, too, and die. 
 While time speedeth onward with never a sigh; 
 Change marks her deep furrows on ever}' brow, 
 I know not just why, nor just when, nor just how; 
 God planned every change though ever so small, 
 So I know it is best change cometh to all." 
 I listened again for stern winter to sing, 
 And, lo! while I waited, again it was spring. 
 
 To8 
 
APPLE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Buy my blossoms, buy my blossoms, 
 
 Apple blossoms sweet and rare. 
 You can wear them or can give them 
 
 To your own dear lady fair ; 
 But be sure they are not faded, 
 
 For, my mother says, that g^ief 
 Always comes, if to a lady 
 
 One gives drooping bud or leaf. 
 These, I promise, will not wither, 
 
 But my blossoms, buy to-day, 
 They will make a dainty chaplet 
 
 For your lady, buy them pray! 
 
 199 
 
MY DOLLY. 
 
 Sometimes I play at hide and seek 
 
 As happy as can be ; 
 Sometimes I hold my waxen doll 
 
 That is so dear to me. 
 Sometimes I sing a lullaby 
 
 If she begins to fret, 
 Then smooth her hair and fix her gown 
 
 And call her "my sweet pet." 
 She has long curls and big blue eyes 
 
 A dimple in each cheek, 
 And when I call her pretty names 
 
 I think that she will speak. 
 Her eyes will open and will close, 
 
 I sing her oft to sleep, 
 But never do I scold her for 
 
 I would not have her weep. 
 Sometimes I play at hide and seek 
 
 As happy as can be ; 
 But better yet I love to hold 
 
 My dolly Esther Lee. 
 
 200 
 
'But better yet I love to hold 
 My dolly Esther Lee." 
 
NEW YEAR SONG. 
 
 Now, one and all, 
 
 Fair maidens tall, 
 Ye lassies gay and smiling, 
 
 L«t's trip in glee. 
 
 With steps so free. 
 Our hearts with joy beguiling; 
 
 There's none sad nigh, 
 
 To make us sigh, 
 The hour is one of pleasure, 
 
 The music sweet, 
 
 Makes life complete. 
 Oh, New Year, fairest treasure. 
 
 Oh, darling lad. 
 
 So newly clad, 
 Your steps are light and prancing, 
 
 The world is fair. 
 
 Now, look you there. 
 Come lead us in our dancing ; 
 
 With holly, bay. 
 
 This gladsome day, 
 We crown you at the portal. 
 
 With welcome song, 
 
 And shouts full long. 
 Oh, New Year, fairest mortal. 
 
 20X 
 
NEW YEAR SONG. 
 
 Let sweet notes still, 
 
 Our beings thrill, 
 As all our joy we're telling, 
 
 May the power 
 
 Of a glad hour 
 Within our hearts be dwelling; 
 
 Trip, trip with glee, 
 
 Light-hearted, free, 
 New Year knows naught of sorrow ; 
 
 His smiling face. 
 
 May some day trace, 
 The tears we will not borrow. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 202 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 018 604 368 6 M