PS 3511 
 
 .R93 
 
 F5 
 
 1904 
 
 
 Copy 
 
 1 
 
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Class <P^S6-/ / 
 
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 Copyright N^. 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
FIRESIDE 
 REVERES 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. L. J. H. FROST 
 
 While seated in tlie clieering glow of liglited liearlli, 
 our tliouglits at random roam. 
 
 Concord, New Haa\pshire 
 RUMFORD PRINTING COMPANY 
 
 A' / ti cU e e 11 // « n d r ed and Fo u r 
 
LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 
 Two GoDies Received 
 
 JAN 16 1906 
 
 Copyricht Entry 
 
 , tLASS ex. XKc, No. 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 Copyright, 1004, 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. L. J. H. FROST 
 
^ 
 
 INSCRIPTION. 
 
 TO FRIENDS WHO KINDLY THINK AND SPEAK OF ME, 
 THIS -BOOK IS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED. 
 
 L. J. h: F. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Day Dawn ....... i 
 
 A Thought 
 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 The Advent of Spring 
 
 
 
 
 
 4 
 
 Apostrophe to Easter 
 
 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 The Twihght Hour . 
 
 
 
 
 
 8 
 
 May 
 
 
 
 
 
 lO 
 
 Sunset .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 12 
 
 Heart Thoughts 
 
 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 Necropolis 
 
 
 
 
 
 i6 
 
 Afield .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 i8 
 
 Only a Lock of Silver-graj 
 
 • Hail 
 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 After This Life is Ended 
 
 
 
 
 
 21 
 
 Morning Glory 
 
 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 Some Day of Days 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 North and South 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 26 
 
 The Derelict . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 Laus Deo 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 Eventide 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 32 
 
 A Fragment 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 34 
 
 Gloria in Excelsis 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 The Burial 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 Love Unfeigned 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 40 
 
Morning ..... 
 
 
 
 42 
 
 Under the Daisies .... 
 
 
 
 42 
 
 Press On ..... 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 Tread Softly .... 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 Farmer Jolin ..... 
 
 
 
 46 
 
 Beautiful Maud 
 
 
 
 48 
 
 Tlie Days of Long Ago 
 
 
 
 50 
 
 Thanksgiving .... 
 
 
 
 52 
 
 Apostrophe to Our Granite Hills 
 
 
 
 54 
 
 Easter Lilies .... 
 
 
 
 55 
 
 A Legend of Winnepesaukee 
 
 
 
 56 
 
 Summer Reveries 
 
 
 
 58 
 
 I Would Be Pure . 
 
 
 
 60 
 
 The Dead .... 
 
 
 
 62 
 
 " Peace, Be StilP' . 
 
 
 
 64 
 
 Let Us So Live 
 
 
 
 65 
 
 The Cottage by the Sea . 
 
 
 
 66 
 
 The Soldier's Last Words 
 
 
 
 70 
 
 One Year Ago To-day 
 
 
 
 72 
 
 Evening Shades Are Gently Falling 
 
 
 
 74 
 
 A Gray Day .... 
 
 
 
 76 
 
 Scenes of My Childhood . 
 
 
 
 78 
 
 Magdalen .... 
 
 
 
 80 
 
 Let Us Pray .... 
 
 
 
 83 
 
 An "Old Home Day" Invitation 
 
 
 
 84 
 
 Lament of the Proscribed 
 
 
 
 86 
 
 Under the Hedges . 
 
 
 
 88 
 
 God's Ways Are Not As Man's Ways 
 
 
 90 
 
 A Summer Morning 
 
 
 
 92 
 
Contrast 
 
 
 
 
 93- 
 
 LemueFs Dream 
 
 
 
 
 94 
 
 It Might Have Been 
 
 
 
 
 96 
 
 So Long Ago . 
 
 
 
 
 98 
 
 After 
 
 
 
 
 99 
 
 Dandelions 
 
 
 
 
 100 
 
 Supplication . 
 
 
 
 
 102 
 
 Nearing Home 
 
 
 
 
 103 
 
 Tired Tim 
 
 
 
 
 104 
 
 Questionings . 
 
 
 
 
 106 
 
 A Prayer 
 
 
 
 
 107 
 
 Meadow-Land 
 
 
 
 
 108 
 
 Apostrophe to June . 
 
 
 
 
 no 
 
 Autumn . 
 
 
 
 
 1 12 
 
 The Battle-lreld 
 
 
 
 
 113 
 
 Those Halcyon Days 
 
 
 
 
 116 
 
 Hereafter 
 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 Open Mine Eyes 
 
 
 
 
 119 
 
 After All Is Over 
 
 
 
 
 120 
 
 Evening . 
 
 
 
 
 121 
 
 The Inebriate's Prayer 
 
 
 
 
 122 
 
 Along the Shore 
 
 
 
 
 124 
 
 Retribution 
 
 
 
 
 125 
 
 Inconstancy 
 
 
 
 
 130 
 
 Aspirations 
 
 
 
 
 132 
 
 Geneveive 
 
 
 
 
 134 
 
 A Ship at Sea . 
 
 
 
 
 '35 
 
 To Those Who Can Best Understand It 
 
 
 136 
 
 A Whisper of Green 
 
 
 
 
 13& 
 
Tarry With Me 
 
 In Memoriam . 
 
 My Youthful Hopes 
 
 Consolation 
 
 Canary . 
 
 Tlie Path I Walked In Chi 
 
 Waiting . 
 
 The Mother's Prayer 
 
 Retrospection . 
 
 Bettie and I 
 
 Under the Snow 
 
 You Remember 
 
 Could We But Know 
 
 Threnody 
 
 Dear Weary Hands 
 
 Blind 
 
 Death of Summer 
 
 So Near to Thee 
 
 Glorious Morning 
 
 The Wind 
 
 Charity . 
 
 Withered Flowers 
 
 An Answered Praver 
 
 Harvest Home 
 
 November 
 
 Snowflakes 
 
 Christmas Eve 
 
 The Passing of the Year 
 
 Good-Ni<iht 
 
 Idhood 
 
 139 
 
 140 
 142 
 
 143 
 144 
 146 
 148 
 149 
 152 
 
 '54 
 156 
 158 
 160 
 161 
 162 
 164 
 166 
 167 
 168 
 170 
 172 
 174 
 175 
 178 
 180 
 182 
 184 
 185 
 187 
 
Fireside Reveries. 
 
 DAY DAWN. 
 
 All night deep sleep had lain among the hills. 
 The drowsy waters whispered in the rills ; 
 The whippoorwill, from noisy throat, 
 Poured out his same three thrilling notes. 
 
 A streak of golden light now lay 
 Along the east to herald day ; 
 While in the vales the bridal mist 
 The violet's drooping eyelids kissed. 
 
 The dewdrops, without prayer or tune, 
 Baptized each new-born rose of June :, 
 The lily lifted up the lid 
 That all her costly perfume hid. 
 
 Then, where the woods and waters meet, 
 The silent air grew strangely sweet ; 
 While on the boughs the infant leaves 
 Hung trembling, waiting for the breeze. 
 
And now the sun, with fingers bold, 
 Laid on the hilltops caps of gold ; 
 While the gay skylark, soaring high. 
 Poured forth his soulful melody. 
 
 The robin cleared his husky throat 
 
 To imitate the skylark's note ; 
 
 And all the insects on the hill 
 
 Piped in their chorus sharp and shrill,— 
 
 Making a concert full and deep, 
 That woke the echoes from their sleep ; 
 While morning, from her garments gray. 
 Brought forth another new-born day. 
 
A THOUGHT. 
 
 See yon bright, flaming star ! 
 
 Brighter than its companions are. 
 
 With never-closing eye it looks on earth ; 
 
 On scenes of woe, on scenes of mirth ; 
 
 And ever gazing, seems to say, — 
 
 See by my light to heaven the way. 
 
 Oh, man! thy way on earth is drear; 
 
 Beset with snares. Trembling and fear 
 
 Take hold on thee. Oft with thy cup of bliss 
 
 Is mixed dark dregs of woe. Remember this, — 
 
 A Father's hand prepared the thorny way, 
 
 And mixed the potion for thee. Say — 
 
 Shall finite question infinite ? Beware ! 
 
 Man's wisdom is but foolishness. Nor care 
 
 Then for the morrow ; He who clothes 
 
 The lilies will remember thee. Thy woes 
 
 He feels; thy wants He will supply; 
 
 Till life's race run. He calls thee up on high. 
 
 From heaven's window still my light 
 Shall shine for thee; guiding thy steps aright. 
 Lest thou should 'st fall, or miss the way 
 Up to the land of one eternal day. 
 
THE ADVENT OF SPRING. 
 
 She is coming ! She is coming ! 
 
 Coming over the far-away hills ; 
 To awaken the sleeping violet, 
 
 And unfetter the ice-bound rills. 
 
 She will call to the waiting wildbird, 
 Bid him open his mouth and sing ; 
 
 And over the mountain and valleys 
 She will spread her mantle of green. 
 
 She will whisper unto the forest 
 " Unbind all your captive leaves ; " 
 
 And lo ! upon every treetop 
 
 They stand trembling in the breeze. 
 
 While up in the skies of April 
 
 Her snow-white plumes will appear ; 
 
 To tell us of showers and sunshine, 
 And of hopes not akin to fear. 
 
 'Mid the folds of her trailing garments 
 Lies hidden ambrosial perfume ; 
 
 She will scatter it over the wayside, 
 By the palace, the cot, and the tomb. 
 
She will speak to the heart of the human 
 In accents of hope and of cheer ; 
 
 From the face of the sick and sorrowful 
 She will banish the falling tear. 
 
 She will bring to the earth resurrection 
 Of all that is bright and fair ; 
 
 And the light of her life-giving presence 
 Will encircle us everywhere. 
 
APOSTROPHE TO EASTER. 
 
 Hail to thee, Easter morn ! 
 This day new hopes are born ; 
 
 For Christ hath risen. 
 Farewell to doubt and fear, 
 Faith reads her title clear 
 
 To mansions fair in heaven. 
 
 Hail to thee, Easter morn ! 
 Death is of terror shorn 
 
 Since Christ hath risen. 
 He wears no crown of thorns ; 
 Glory his brow adorns, 
 
 Victory to Him is given. 
 
 Hail to thee, Easter morn ! 
 We gladly greet thy dawn ; 
 
 Our Christ hath risen ! 
 Let every creature raise 
 A song of grateful praise 
 
 To God in heaven. 
 
 Hail to thee, Easter morn ! 
 Our dear Lord is not gone, 
 He is but risen ; 
 
And looking unto Him, 
 We, too, may victory win ; 
 May be forgiven. 
 
 Hail to thee, Easter morn ! 
 This day new hopes are born ; 
 
 Jesus hath risen ! 
 Behind the pearly gates 
 A mansion for us waits, 
 
 A glorious home in heaven. 
 
THE TWILIGHT HOUR. 
 
 'T is the sweet, sad hour of twilight, 
 And the friendly shadows have come ; 
 
 Now crouching down in the corners, 
 Now dancing about the room. 
 
 I hear the purr of the house cat, 
 
 As he lies before the grate ; 
 And it sounds, in its measured music. 
 
 Like the spinning-wheel of fate. 
 
 The tall clock in the corner 
 
 Says time is hurrying on ; 
 Says the wearisome days of earthlife 
 
 Will soon be over and gone. 
 
 Close by the fire in the corner 
 
 Stands the grandsire's vacant chair ; 
 
 Beside it an empty cradle. 
 
 For the child with the golden hair — 
 
 Who followed an angel heaven-ward, 
 Long ago on a summer's day ; 
 
 The sunlight of home has been darkened, 
 Since baby went away. 
 
Beyond this valley of shadows 
 Lies a land of eternal day ; 
 
 Up to its radiant portal 
 
 The Saviour leadeth the way. 
 
MAY. 
 
 Tripping o'er the meadow 
 Came fair, smiling May; 
 
 While the diamond dewdrops 
 Glistened all the way. 
 
 From her bright tiara 
 
 Gleamed the morning star ; 
 Wildbird's sweetest music 
 
 Came from near and far. 
 
 Starry-eyed arbutus 
 
 She carried in her hand ; 
 Scattering wide its fragrance 
 
 Over all the land. 
 
 While the first pale violets 
 
 Nestled in her hair, 
 Breathing out their perfume 
 
 On the pure, still air. 
 
 When the laughing streamlet 
 Saw her pass that way, 
 
 It caught her bright reflection. 
 And kept it all the day. 
 
Every month is lovely 
 In its own true way ; 
 
 But for grace and sweetness, 
 Give us blushing May. 
 
SUNSET. 
 
 Sunset far across the plain, 
 
 Sending back its golden rain 
 
 To the maiden at the door, 
 
 Whose bare feet press the sanded floor. 
 
 With her hand above her eyes 
 She the lowing herd espies ; 
 Coming slowly one by one, 
 As they oft before have done. 
 
 In the marsh the merry frogs 
 Sing upon half-buried logs ; 
 While the insects on the hill 
 Pipe their music loud and shrill. 
 
 But the twilight now has come, 
 And the herds are gathered home ; 
 While the maiden, pail in hand, 
 Goes to meet the waiting band. 
 
 Brightly beams the evening star 
 In the firmament afar; 
 While the songs of nightingales 
 Echo through the verdant vales. 
 
Soon o'er meadow, vale, and hill, 
 Over mists so white and chill, 
 Night will let her curtain fall 
 Like a blessing over all. 
 
 13 
 
HEART THOUGHTS. 
 
 Oh, that my soul might reach the goal it longs for, 
 And view the glories of the land unseen ; 
 
 Taste the pure waters of the crystal river, 
 And wander ever 'mid those pastures green. 
 
 I 've vainly sought to find one deep, untainted 
 fountain. 
 
 At which my thirsty soul might freely drink ; 
 I find on earth none but oblivion's waters, 
 
 In those dark depths my withered hopes all sink. 
 
 I ever had a something unattained to long for, 
 A wished-for blessing after which to reach ; 
 
 Toward which my weary spirit turneth ever, 
 
 As turns the restless wave toward the whitened 
 beach. 
 
 As the lone weary wanderer, heart-sick and be- 
 nighted. 
 
 Turns his sad eyes toward the northern star. 
 So turns my heart toward that land elysian. 
 
 Whose beams of hope and glory beckon from afar. 
 
 14 
 
1 long to find on earth affection pure and holy, 
 As that which glows in seraph hearts above, 
 
 Whose spotless souls wear the reflected glory 
 Of that great Being whose first name is Love. 
 
 O Father ! fill my thirsty soul with Thine own 
 spirit, 
 
 Bid all my weary longings evermore to cease ; 
 Soon may I see the heavenly dove descending, 
 
 Bringing unto my soul the olive branch of peace. 
 
 15 
 
NECROPOLIS. 
 
 Thou city of the dead ! within thy streets, 
 
 And on thine ivied walls, Death ever keeps 
 
 A tireless vigil ; watching with keen look 
 
 Each pale, still comer, as within his book 
 
 He writes their epitaph. A mournful train. 
 
 Oh, city ! bearing one whom Death has slain, 
 
 Oft comes within thy gates, — some young and fair, 
 
 With folded hands and pale flowers 'mid dark hair ; 
 
 Some old and gray, whose faded, wrinkled cheeks 
 
 And careworn brows the contest oft bespeaks 
 
 Of their life's battle, yet unwilling they 
 
 To lay their armor down at close of day. 
 
 And call the struggle past, the conflict done. 
 
 Blest they, if they can say, — "The victory's won." 
 
 Thou city of the dead ! within thine halls 
 Death holds his ceaseless banquet ; and loud calls 
 The canker-worm to feast upon fair forms 
 Whose hearts are still ; no crimson life-blood warms 
 Their frozen breasts, nor raise they now their hands 
 To wipe away the clinging mould that stands 
 Upon their once fair features. Those cold forms 
 Heed not the damp, or darkness, or the worms ; 
 
 i6 
 
Nor shrink from Death's most close embrace ; nor 
 
 start 
 To feel the frozen life-blood on the heart 
 Press heavy down. Those forms are lifeless clay ; 
 The better part — the soul — hath passed away. 
 
 Thou city of the dead ! Peace to thy shades ! 
 
 Up to that land where glory never fades, 
 
 Thou leadest us. Our pathway lies through thee 
 
 Unto eternal day. Our souls, all free 
 
 From hindering clay that they have cast aside 
 
 Within thy halls, shall flee, and hence abide 
 
 With the Eternal. But, oh, city ! keep 
 
 Thou safe the sacred forms we leave asleep 
 
 Within thy mansions, till a voice shall say : 
 
 " Give up thy dead," upon the judgment day. 
 
 17 
 
AFIELD. 
 
 The flowers have gone afield 
 
 This summer day ; 
 The rose with stately tread 
 
 Doth lead the way. 
 
 Next comes the lily fair, 
 
 Swinging her bell ; 
 Her bashful, modest mien 
 
 Becomes her well. 
 
 Then comes vain passion-flow-er, 
 
 Wearing her crown ; 
 Proudly she holds her head, 
 
 Nor once looks down. 
 
 Pansies and peonies, too, 
 
 Are in the train, 
 For last year's visitors 
 
 Have come again. 
 
 Sweet peas and fleur-de-lis, 
 
 And mignonette, 
 And starry-eyed, sweet flowers. 
 
 That whisper — " Don't forget." 
 
All these and many more 
 Have gone afield to-da)^ 
 
 For very well they know 
 Summer will soon away. 
 
 19 
 
ONLY A LOCK OF SILVER-GRAY HAIR. 
 
 Only a lock of silver gray hair, 
 Carefully folded and lying there. 
 Once it adorned the beautiful brow 
 Of one who is peacefully sleeping now. 
 
 Long, long ago we laid her to rest, 
 
 With sweet flowers scattered over her breast ; 
 
 Under the willows a grave was made, 
 
 Into it gently our treasure we laid. 
 
 Only a lock of silver-gray hair, 
 From the wrinkled brow that once was so fair ; 
 From the brow of one whose worth was ne'er told, 
 Whose loving heart could never grow old. 
 
 Oh, that silver lock doth volumes tell, 
 Of the mother dear whom we loved so well ; 
 May we meet her again by the crystal sea, • 
 Where souls from all grief are evermore free.^ 
 
AFTER THIS LIFE IS ENDED. 
 
 After this mortal life is ended, 
 
 When finished all its toil and pain ; 
 When we have drained our cup of sorrow, 
 
 And never need to weep again — 
 
 Then coming up from out earth's darkness 
 Into the sunlight of our Father's love. 
 
 We may solve clearly earth's vexed problems, 
 And rest in peace within our home above. 
 
 Ah ! then we shall no longer wonder 
 
 Why hope's flowers withered one by one; 
 
 Why morning's joy by grief close shadowed, 
 Had turned to sorrow ere the day was done. 
 
 Let us no longer idly question 
 
 The wisdom that withholds from mortal ken 
 The hidden secrets of the great hereafter ; 
 
 And cease regretting for what might have been. 
 
 For when our feet have crossed the river 
 
 That parts earth's shadows from eternal day, 
 
 Each cruel doubt and fear will vanish 
 And grief's dark phantom flee away. 
 
MORNING GLORY. 
 
 There is a glory in the morning, 
 
 When the sunbeams kiss the hills, 
 And the birds are chanting praises 
 
 With the music of the rills; 
 When the herds are lowing gladly 
 
 As they roam the pastures green. 
 To crop the tender herbage, 
 
 With its glistening, silvery sheen ; 
 When the peasant rises early 
 
 To catch the sunrise fair, 
 While to heaven his eyes he raises 
 
 As he breathes a thankful prayer ; 
 And nature's many voices 
 
 In an anthem sweetly blend, 
 Singing, — "As it was in the beginning 
 
 So it shall be till the end." 
 
 But a greater " Morning Glory " 
 
 Shall greet the waking eyes 
 Of those who sink in slumber 
 
 At the gates of paradise. 
 Oh ! great shall be their gladness, 
 
 As they rise and enter in 
 To that "land beyond the river," 
 
 Free from pain and death and sin. 
 
Oh ! that morning's fadeless glory 
 
 Shall only pass away, 
 When lost within the splendor 
 
 Of heaven's eternal day ; 
 A day whose glorious brightness 
 
 No somber cloud shall shade, 
 A day whose deathless beauty 
 
 Shall never, never fade. 
 
 23 
 
SOME DAY OF DAYS. 
 
 On some glad day of days 
 I shall not waken at the call of morn ; 
 
 My sleep will be so sweet 
 I shall not dream of sorrow or of scorn. 
 
 The sun may rise and shine, 
 Or dark clouds shed their tear drops, one by one, 
 
 'T will make no difference then, 
 Since all my care is past, my work all done. 
 
 If friends should gather round 
 My couch, and softly speak my name, 
 
 I shall not answer them, 
 Or break my rest to ask them why they came. 
 
 And should a word of praise 
 Be whispered, or some of my virtues tell, 
 
 I shall not proudly smile. 
 But coldly keep my sleep's deep, silent spell. 
 
 Or should some cruel word 
 Of blame be hurled by jealous hate at me, 
 
 I shall not shed a tear 
 For those who did not know my heart to see. 
 
And one who knew me well 
 Might say, "She ever sought and struggled to attain 
 
 The unattainable, 
 With disappointed heart and life of grief and pain." 
 
 But I shall slumber on 
 With folded hands ; so, kind friends, go your 
 way and think of me as one 
 
 Who strove to reach the goal, but failed at 
 close of day. 
 
NORTH AND SOUTH. 
 
 Written dtuing the late Civil War. 
 
 Two smiling infants in one cradle laid : 
 That cradle by their father's hand was made 
 And christened — "Liberty." With anxious care 
 The parent watched his children ; both were fair, 
 And fast they grew to boyhood, then to men. 
 He saw them living side by side and then 
 He blest them, and in reverend wisdom said, — 
 "My children, live in love and peace." Then read 
 To them a document. " These just rules keep," 
 Said he, " and ye shall prosper, and not weep 
 Over distraction. And be sure ne'er break 
 This bond of unity. For your children's sake 
 Give heed unto my counsel. I shall sleep, 
 But all my words within your memory keep." 
 
 ******** 
 The sire was gathered to his fathers. Then 
 The sons together wept. And learned men 
 Paid tearful tribute to his memory. Now, 
 They said, — " He was his country's father." How 
 They praised his valor ! Talked of conflicts fierce 
 Through which he led them on to victory ! This 
 They did and blest the great departed. 
 
 26 
 
Years 
 Passed onward ; and the sons forgot the fears 
 They once had lest they break that bond of peace 
 Their father gave. One, haughty, sought release 
 From its restrictions. For his brother said, — 
 " Your traffic is most sinful ; white, black or red, 
 All mankind should be free. If on my side 
 Your ' chattels ' then I find, I shall them hide 
 And give them liberty." Then answered he, — 
 "The heritage our father gave divide with me." 
 " Not so ; remember what our parent said : 
 Think of the solemn compact that he read, 
 Enjoining on us union. Not by thee 
 Or me shall that compact be broken. See 
 Thou to it that we live in peace !" 
 
 But now 
 The brother's wrath raged ; and he made a vow 
 To break asunder every tie which bound 
 Him to his brother. Soon was heard the sound 
 Of war's loud clarion, and the swift tread 
 Of hurried feet fast coming to the red 
 Field of battle. Now, throughout this once blest land 
 Is heard the voice of mourning ; this once blest 
 Land seems cursed. The eagle's shining crest 
 Is ruffled, and his wing is plumed for flight. 
 
 27 
 
He watches struggling liberty. Sad sight ! 
 
 His talons clutch the tattered "stars and stripes'" 
 
 And he will hold them until man clean wipes 
 
 From off the banner's folds all stain of dust, 
 
 And risen liberty shall give in trust 
 
 Her legacy of union, peace, and love 
 
 To us forever. 
 
 Great Spirit ! From above 
 Send quickly reconciliation. Reign 
 Thou in righteousness. Weak and vain 
 Is human wisdom. Show men thy just will 
 And bid them say, — "Amen." Proud heart be still, 
 And learn humility : Still clasp the hand 
 Of wisdom, and walk on toward that land 
 Where brother loveth brother. That blest home 
 To which strife or disunion ne'er may come. 
 Home for the rich and poor, the bond and free ; 
 O God ! Give to the right the victory. 
 
 28 
 
THE DERELICT. 
 
 On the ocean of time there lies drifting 
 
 A derelict dark and drear; 
 It was freighted in life's rosy morning 
 
 With hopes unmingled with fear. 
 
 With its bright pennon gaily floating 
 On the clear sweet morning air, 
 
 No ship was e'er launched with its prospects 
 More flattering or more fair. 
 
 But a cloud had gathered at noonday, 
 Whose shadow had darkened the sun ; 
 
 And the sea's rough, restless surges 
 Raged wildly when day was done. 
 
 While the ship that set sail in life's morning, 
 With its pennon and banner unfurled. 
 
 Hath cast out its ballast and burdens 
 To the depths of the dark sea world. 
 
 And now as day dies into darkness. 
 With no star to illumine its tomb. 
 
 The derelict, without a pilot. 
 
 Drifts hopelessly on towards its doom. 
 
 29 
 
LAUS DEO. 
 
 " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will 
 toward men." This was the theme of the song first sang on 
 the plains of Judea by rejoicing angels. To-day, reverberating 
 down through the past ages it comes to us again. 
 
 Hark! how sweetly it sounds! The wondering shepherds 
 of old heard it, and listening to its sweet melody praised God, 
 thanking him that a Kabe had been born in Bethlehem. 
 
 Have mortals to-day less cause for joy than they who first 
 heard the angel's grateful song on Judea's plains? Nay, let 
 every human heart be filled with gladness and shout aloud the 
 God-given message until it echoes back to Heaven again. 
 
 All hail ! Sweet Babe of Bethlehem ! 
 Fairest among the sons of men ; 
 Though in an humble manger laid, 
 By Thee our debt of sin was paid. 
 
 And now, dear Christ, to Thee we raise 
 A grateful song of heartfelt praise ; 
 Our gifts of love to Thee we bring, 
 And worship Thee, O glorious King ! 
 
 All hail ! To Thee, Saviour divine, 
 No earthly love compares with Thine ; 
 Within our hearts we humbly pray, 
 Be born again, sweet Christ, today. 
 
 30 
 
Bid angels come and sing to men 
 The song they sang at Bethlehem ; 
 That we may listen to their song 
 Once more on this, Thy natal morn. 
 
 All hail ! Dear Lord, O wondrous love 
 That brought Thee from the courts above, 
 To die upon the cross for them 
 Who slew the Babe of Bethlehem. 
 
 31 
 
EVENTIDE. 
 
 m\\\ day the busy bees 
 
 Had carried honey home, 
 
 And humming while they worked, 
 Safe locked it in the comb. 
 
 Upon the tree-boughs high, 
 The infant birdlings swung ; 
 
 The mother bird all day 
 Had fed the greedy young. 
 
 The brooklet in the dell 
 Went on its mossy way, 
 
 Singing a careless song, 
 As if 't were always May. 
 
 All day the fickle rose 
 Coquetted with the sun. 
 
 Blushing behind her smiles 
 Until her will was won. 
 
 But now along the west 
 There lay a lake of gold. 
 
 Whose shadow on the sky 
 The death of day foretold. 
 
 32 
 
Soon came the evening star, 
 And looked through ether blue, 
 
 Showing her glowing face 
 To weary mortals" view. 
 
 Then on her sable car, 
 
 Night came to weep for day, 
 
 That from the loving earth 
 Had passed too soon away. 
 
 33 
 
A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Above the dark clouds lower, while all around 
 The heavy air lies still, save that from the 
 Far-off hills booms heaven's artillery. 
 Low at my feet the ever-restless waves 
 Moan piteously. The screaming gulls seem 
 Angry at the sea, while from the harbor bar 
 Come sullen sounds of pent-up misery. 
 At this high rock's rough base, like sextons old, 
 The waves are folding their thick pall of black, 
 Dank seaweed, round the reef's cold feet. 
 
 Far out 
 A white-winged ship, hope laden, speeds upon 
 Her homeward way. The stormy petrel dips 
 His wing within the ocean's foaming spray ; 
 Then soars above the straining masts, circling 
 Around, as if half-minded to alight 
 And whisper into mortal ears his ill 
 Forebodings, sending dark, shuddering fear 
 To chill warm hearts that dream of love and home. 
 
 Hark ! Now the mighty wind comes rushing on. 
 Lashing the ocean waves most furiously. 
 
 34 
 
As some mad rider spurs his gallant steed 
 Until his reeking flanks are foam-flecked. 
 And now the falling rain a deluge seems, 
 Pouring its hoarded floods into the sea. 
 Darker it grows, and darker. 
 
 Suddenly 
 A lurid flash lights up the wind-swept main ; 
 And, lo ! the ship, hope-freighted, wrecked upon 
 The harbor bar ! Its crew, with cries of wild 
 Despair and pleading prayers upon their lips. 
 Have gone below to find a grave within 
 Old ocean's hidden caves, and calmly wait 
 The resurrection morn. 
 
 35 
 
GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. 
 
 Peace on earth the angels sing, 
 Bowing low with folded wing; 
 Seraphs join their sinless song, 
 While cherubim the notes prolong. 
 Catch the echoes, sons of men, 
 Christ is born in Bethlehem. 
 
 'T was a hard and humble bed 
 
 Where first laid His sacred head ; 
 
 And no crown the brow adorns 
 
 That would soon be crowned with thorns. 
 
 Out of pity Jesus came 
 
 For our sins to bear the blame. 
 
 Lo ! in dark Gethsemane 
 
 Jesus prays in agony ; 
 
 And while on the cross He dies, 
 
 " Father, forgive them." Hear, He cries. 
 
 Man's redemption now is won, 
 
 Pardon bought by God's own Son. 
 
 Praise to God the angels sing. 
 Making Heaven's high arches ring; 
 
 36 
 
He who died for sinful men, 
 Christ the Lord, is risen again. 
 Sons of earth sweet incense bring 
 And worship your victorious King. 
 
 37 
 
THE BURIAL. 
 
 There was an open grave, 
 And many an eye looked sadly on it. 
 The deep but narrow bed yawned gloomily. 
 And all impatient waited for the form 
 That soon would lie within it. 
 
 On they come ! 
 That slow funereal train, with pensive tread 
 And heads bowed low, and eyes that sadly looked 
 The heart's deep anguish, while silently 
 They dropped upon the dust the scalding tear — 
 Befitting tribute to departed worth. 
 
 The ebon bier, covered with sable pall. 
 Rested upon the grave's green brink ; and then 
 All footsteps listened while the man of God 
 With slow and solemn tone repeated 
 The heart-chilling words, " Ashes to ashes ! " 
 
 Then, 
 There rose a wail upon the ambient air. 
 That spoke a mother's sorrow. 
 What was all earth to her whose cherished son — 
 Her first born — ah ! her only, worshiped one, 
 
 3-8 
 
Was gone forever? Could the kind friendship 
 
 Of true hearts, or loving sympathy 
 
 From all the world, efface the lost one's image 
 
 From the tablet of her memory ? No ! 
 
 A mother's heart may learn soon to forgive. 
 
 But to forget, ah ! never. 
 
 True she may 
 Meekly bow her head and say, "My Father, 
 Let not my will but Thine be done." 
 Yet from her inmost soul there rises up to God 
 This pleading cry : " Oh ! let me go to him 
 And be at rest forever ! " 
 
LOVE UNFEIGNED. 
 
 You well remember, Marion, 
 
 The hour when first we met ; 
 The singing of the birds, love, 
 
 I hear their music yet ! 
 The murmur of the streamlet. 
 
 The humming of the bee, 
 The kindness of the zephyrs, 
 
 As they fanned both you and me. 
 
 You remember how the sunbeams 
 
 Danced through that leafy bower, 
 And played among your ringlets. 
 
 All that brief but happy hour. 
 How the flowers shed their perfume. 
 
 On the clear morning air. 
 To regale us with their fragrance, 
 
 And to tell us they were there. 
 
 And you know that little rosebud, 
 That wandered to my feet, 
 
 I plucked it, and you told me, 
 You ne'er saw rose so sweet ! 
 
 40 
 
And when that hour was ended, 
 
 You remember very well, 
 How sad it made our hearts feel 
 
 To speak the word, farewell. 
 
 Years have flown since then, Marion, 
 
 Years of pleasure and of pain ; 
 And that happy hour of long ago 
 
 Will ne'er come back again. 
 And on your once fair brow, Marion, 
 
 Time hath his fingers laid. 
 And I try in vain to smooth away 
 
 The wrinkles he has made. 
 
 Your eye has lost its lustre, 
 
 Your cheek its crimson bloom ; 
 Your hair is mixed with silver, 
 
 That whispers of the tomb. 
 But I love you just as well, Marion, 
 
 As on that hour gone by ; 
 We have passed our lives together. 
 
 Together may we die. 
 
 41 
 
MORNING. 
 
 O morning! fresh from the Almighty hand, 
 
 Like a pure seraph's thought dropt down from 
 
 heaven ; 
 May mortal hearts with thy bright spirit be 
 In tune ; inhale thy virgin purity 
 And be baptized with a high and holy inspiration. 
 
 UNDER THE DAISIES. 
 
 Under the daisies rest two little feet, 
 Under the daisies two blue eyes sleep, 
 Parted away from the forehead fair 
 Lies many a wave of soft brown hair. 
 
 Two little hands, on a calm, cold breast, 
 
 Are folded away, forever at rest ; 
 
 Two sweet lips will be parted no more, 
 
 Till they sweetly sing on the "shining shore." 
 
 Under the daisies a grave is made. 
 
 Under the daisies my treasure is laid. 
 
 Under the daisies! it cannot be — 
 
 I 'm sure that in Heaven my child waits for me. 
 
PRESS ON. 
 
 Press on, world-weary one, press on ! 
 What if the way be rough and long ? 
 The restful evening soon will come. 
 Remember thou art nearing home. 
 Faint not because of trials sore, 
 Sometime earth's trials will be o'er; 
 Ere long life's battles all will cease. 
 Leaving the soul in perfect peace. 
 
 Press on, O weary, fainting soul. 
 Thou soon shall reach thy longed-for goal ; 
 And should the way grow dark and drear, 
 Thy heart be filled with doubt and fear, 
 While sharp thorns pierce thy tired feet, 
 And raging storms around thee beat. 
 Shrink not, nor fear; He leadeth thee 
 Who walked the waves at Galilee. 
 
 43 
 
TREAD SOFTLY. 
 
 The following poem was very impressively read by Rev. 
 Roland D. Grant, U. D., at the funeral service of Elder John 
 G. Hook in Phenixhall on Sunday, April i6, 1899: 
 
 Tread softly, he sleepeth, 
 
 The day hath been long ; 
 He is weary of music, 
 
 Of mirth and of song. 
 Kind angels are watching 
 
 Beside him to-day, 
 Keeping all sorrow 
 
 And turmoil away. 
 
 Tread softly, he sleepeth, 
 
 The day hath been long; 
 He is tired of dividing 
 
 The right from the wrong; 
 And tired of sowing 
 
 For others to reap, 
 He hath folded his hands 
 
 And fallen asleep. 
 
 Tread softly, he sleepeth, 
 The day hath been long. 
 
 And foes have been many. 
 Friends long have been gone. 
 
 44 
 
Lay a few white immortelles 
 Upon his calm breast, 
 
 To him God hath given 
 His peace and sweet rest. 
 
 45 
 
FARMER JOHN. 
 
 Side by side at the window 
 Sat Farmer John and his wife, 
 
 And side by side they had traveled 
 Through fifty years of their life. 
 
 They were thinking the past all over. 
 And speaking of rain and shine ; 
 
 Of days so brimful of gladness 
 
 That they made no record of time ; 
 
 And of other days full of shadows 
 
 So terrible, dark, and deep, 
 That they sat them down in silence, 
 
 With never a tear to weep. 
 
 To-night, between daylight and darkness^ 
 They lived in the past again. 
 
 And gathered the fragrant roses 
 
 And the thorns that gave them pain. 
 
 Then they talked of precious treasures, 
 That God unto them had given ; 
 
 How one by one they grew homesick. 
 And wandered back into heaven. 
 
 46 
 
So now in their old age childless, 
 They were walking together alone ; 
 
 Oft thinking of those who were waiting 
 To lovingly welcome them home. 
 
 And now while the friendly shadows 
 Crouched down in the silent room, 
 
 The aged ones prayed for patience 
 Saying, "Thy wil],not mine, be done." 
 
 Then they talked of a better country. 
 And thus spoke old Farmer John : 
 
 " Dry your tears and cheer up good wife, 
 For the journey will not be long. 
 
 " We must try our best to be Christians, 
 And be kind to our fellow-men ; 
 
 When we get to the gate of heaven 
 Perhaps they will let us in. 
 
 " If they do, we will worship the Saviour 
 Who died on the cross for men ; 
 
 And thank Him for keeping the children, 
 The best that ever we can. 
 
 " So we '11 lift up our cross from the roadside, 
 And start for the heavenly gate ; 
 
 For we must be sure to get there 
 Before it shall be too late." 
 
 47 
 
BEAUTIFUL MAUD. 
 
 Beautiful Maud, with soft, brown hair, 
 Oh ! summer skies were not more fair; 
 With heart so good and pure and true. 
 That an angel sought my Maud to woo. 
 
 He came to her side one autumn day 
 And whispered — "Loved one, come away; 
 Earth is too full of sorrow for thee, 
 There 's a land above from sorrow free." 
 
 She gazed on the angel with wistful eyes, 
 And thought of that land beyond the skies ; 
 Then she cast one lingering look behind. 
 And said — " I will go, O angel kind ; — 
 
 " For I tire of earth with its sin and strife. 
 And my spirit longs for a nobler life ; 
 I have heard that within thy home above 
 There is perfect peace and perfect love." 
 
 Then the angel stooped and kissed her cheek, 
 And it bloomed more bright like an autumn leaf; 
 While he silently clasped her willing hand. 
 And led her away to that better land. 
 
Oh ! beautiful Maud, with soft, brown hair. 
 When shall I go and meet thee there ? 
 In thy home above from sorrow free, 
 Doth thy spirit wait and watch for me ? 
 
 49 
 
THE DAYS OF LONG AGO. 
 
 I often dream of the sweet long ago, 
 
 And how real my visions seem ; 
 I see the friends I used to love, 
 
 And they talk to me in my dreams. 
 
 The songs they sang in the days of yore. 
 
 Hold their old-time melody; 
 Sweeter than any song of bird, 
 
 Their music seems to me. 
 
 It floats along through the aisles of the past 
 
 With a cadence full and sweet ; 
 While in its soft and dulcet tones, 
 
 The past and the present meet. 
 
 Oh ! far-away days of the dear long ago, 
 
 Ye carry me back to my youth. 
 When life was full of love and hope, 
 
 And trust in the world's seeming truth. 
 
 When thoughts of the joys the morrow would bring, 
 
 Oft gilded the passing hours ; 
 While no regret for lost yesterdays 
 
 Ever shadowed life's sunny bowers. 
 
 50 
 
Ah, well ! we may dream of the sweet long ago, 
 
 Till we sink into dreamless sleep ; 
 Yet, sometime and somewhere, we certainly know 
 
 We shall have our lost treasures to keep. 
 
 SI 
 
THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Put on another backlog, 
 
 The fire must be bright and warm. 
 The morning is cold and frosty, 
 
 And the children are coming home. 
 
 Betsy, Sammy, and Mary, 
 
 And Thomas will all be here ; 
 
 And Annie, the darling baby, 
 Is coming our hearts to cheer. 
 
 Cloe has scoured the fire-dogs, 
 Till their faces fairly shine ; 
 
 And the pewter plates on the dresser 
 Are as bright as silver fine. 
 
 And to prove her skill in cooking. 
 She has done her very best ; 
 
 Making puddings, pies, and sweetcake, 
 Cookies and all the rest. 
 
 There is no end to the sweetmeats 
 Cloe knows how to prepare ; 
 
 And she says the darling children 
 Must each have a liberal share. 
 
 52 
 
And in the big tin-kitchen 
 
 The turkey is roasting well ; 
 Just when to turn the spit round 
 
 Old Cloe can always tell. 
 
 I ain't of much use, Samuel, 
 
 In doing the work to-day ; 
 Once I was young and sprightly, 
 
 And smart, folks used to say. 
 
 Time has brought many changes, 
 
 Husband, to you and me. 
 And many more years are behind us. 
 
 Than in the future we ever shall see. 
 
 Cut we've much for which to be grateful 
 
 On this Thanksgiving day. 
 For He who gave us the children 
 
 Has not taken one away. 
 
 When we reach that better country, 
 And give thanks before God's throne. 
 
 May our children and grandchildren 
 All at last be gathered home. 
 
 53 
 
APOSTROPHE TO OUR GRANITE HILLS. 
 
 Thoughts suggested by a visit to Craney Hill, Hennikei 
 N. H., August 14, 1902. 
 
 Oh, hills of God ! How fair ye stand, 
 Watching for aye the borderland ; 
 Like hoary sentinels ye seem, 
 Guarding the forest, lake, and stream. 
 
 The Maker's hand hath stamped on thee 
 His impress of eternity; 
 And throughout all the changeful years 
 No change upon ye e'er appears. 
 
 Your towering heads so grandly high, 
 Oft veiled by iieecy folds of sky. 
 Great monuments appear to be 
 Of God's eternal majesty. 
 
 The verdant vales about your feet 
 The story of God's love repeat ; 
 While from each cool, sequestered glen 
 The tale is echoed back again. 
 
 Oh, hills of God ! Ye seem to be 
 Gazing into futurity ; 
 But what is veiled from mortal ken 
 Ye ne'er will whisper unto men. 
 
 54 
 
EASTER LILIES. 
 
 O Easter lilies pure and fair, 
 Shedding your perfume on the air; 
 A fitting type ye seem to be 
 Of heaven's celestial purity. 
 
 Hidden beneath the winter's snow, 
 Your faithful hearts were all aglow ; 
 Waiting to hear the Master say 
 Come forth and bloom on Easter day. 
 
 O Easter lilies, sweet and white. 
 Clothed in your stainless robes of light ; 
 Would that my soul might be like thee, 
 From earth's defilement ever free. 
 
 Your presence cheers my fainting heart, 
 Bidding each doubt and fear depart; 
 Ye bring to me without a word 
 Sweet memories of my risen Lord. 
 
 55 
 
A LEGEND OF WINNEPESAUKEE. 
 
 Full many a weary year ago 
 Ere white men came to plow and sow 
 The land they call the Granite state 
 (Home of the noble and the great), 
 A beauteous Naiad, fair and wild 
 As any wayward, petted child, 
 Sought for herself a home to make 
 Beneath the waters of some lake. 
 
 She wandered till at last she found 
 A valley closely nestled down 
 Among the hills. "Now here," said she, 
 "I'll make my mansion broad and free." 
 Her mantle, then, she quickly took 
 And spread it at the mountain's foot ; 
 When low! through valley far and near. 
 The element we call a tear. 
 
 Here, many a long and happy year 
 The Naiad dwelt without a fear ; 
 At last within her palace deep 
 The water spirit fell asleep. 
 
 56 
 
Now mortals claim her cherished home, 
 And freely use it as their own ; 
 Where late the Naiad danced and sung, 
 The steamboat's signal bell is rung. 
 
 They tell us that the lake's fair breast 
 Seems sometimes to be ill at rest; 
 While 'mid the hills, all still and lone, 
 The night winds make a sullen moan ; 
 And angry billows come and go. 
 Their faces pale, ah ! white as snow, 
 As sadly watch they where she sleeps, — 
 The Naiad's ashes at their feet. 
 
 57 
 
SUMMER REVERIES. 
 
 Out in the rank and tangled grass 
 The golden buttercups glisten ; 
 
 And wild bees through the sunshine pass, 
 
 Murmuring ever a thankful mass, 
 While the zephyrs stop to listen. 
 
 The humming-bird kisses the rose's red lips. 
 
 While he steals away her sweetness ; 
 The clover's honey the butterfly sips. 
 And his beak in the fountain the oriole dips, 
 Never thinking of summer's briefness. 
 
 There's a robin's nest on the old apple tree 
 That stands by the edge of the meadow; 
 
 I wonder if birds so happy and free, 
 
 Ever a moment of sorrow see. 
 Or do they sing on forever? 
 
 A beautiful rosebud, veiled in green, 
 Is trying its fragrance to smother; 
 Nestling low down that it need not be seen. 
 Timid as any young bride, I ween. 
 Who clings to her loving mother. 
 
 58 
 
The tremulous lily is swinging her bell, 
 Unconsciously crying her sweetness, 
 
 While she droops her head modestly down in the 
 dell, 
 
 Forever believing that all things are well, 
 A beautiful pattern of meekness. 
 
 But here and there a shadow doth lay. 
 
 Dark and deep like a sorrow, 
 Saying plainly as words can say, 
 "Though the sun shines bright and fair to-day, 
 
 Clouds may come on the morrow." 
 
 59 
 
I WOULD BE PURE. 
 'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 
 
 I would be pure, like some clear brook, 
 
 Upon whose cr3'stal brink 
 The wood-birds stand and bow themselves 
 
 To shadows, ere they drink ; 
 5So would my heart transparent be, 
 Showing clear depths, O Lord, to Thee. 
 
 I would be pure like some sweet flower 
 
 That holds its gem of dew 
 In stainless cup, to be exhaled 
 
 By sunbeams ever true; 
 So would my heart its incense bring 
 In chalice pure to Heaven's King. 
 
 I would be pure, like some white cloud 
 
 Floating in ether blue, 
 Showing upon its snowy crest 
 
 Heaven's light to mortal view ; 
 So would I have my spirit be 
 A mirror of God's love to me. 
 
 60 
 
I would be pure, like drifted snow, 
 Upon some mountain's breast ; 
 
 Sinless like daisies fair that bloom 
 Where pale, dead children rest. 
 
 O Jesus ! wash me in thy blood, 
 
 That I at last may see my God. 
 
 6 1, 
 
THE DEAD. 
 
 '• They are here, there, everywhere." 
 
 Some repose in marble tombs, 
 With love to watch their ashes ; 
 
 either forms unburied lie 
 
 Where battle lightning flashes. 
 
 Some have died in princely halls, 
 And soft hands closed their lashes ; 
 
 Others fell where heroes fall 
 And roar of cannon clashes. 
 
 Some may rest in ocean caves. 
 Rude billows o'er them sweeping; 
 
 Others sleep on the mountain's brOw, 
 Heaven's tears upon them weeping. 
 
 Some expired on loving breasts, 
 'Mid kind words and caressings; 
 
 Others died in their huts alone. 
 With none to ask their blessing. 
 
 Some have gone from cherished homes, 
 From hearts all. filled with sadness; 
 
 Others left no friend to mourn, 
 
 And death seemed to them gladness. 
 
 62 
 
'T will matter not how they crossed the tide 
 When they meet " beyond the river " ; 
 
 They only came by different paths 
 To dwell in one home forever. 
 
 63 
 
"PEACE, BE STILL." 
 
 My barque is tossed upon life's sea, 
 
 A target for each blast ; 
 And threatening cloud-racks overhead 
 
 Make darkness as they pass. 
 
 Saviour! If it be Thy will, 
 Say to the waters, peace, be still. 
 
 1 long to reach that haven blest. 
 
 To which no storm can come ; 
 And safely moor my wind-swept barque 
 Forevermore at home. 
 
 Saviour ! If it be thy will, 
 Say to the billows, peace, be still. 
 
 The night has come. The raging deep 
 Yawns black beneath my barque ; 
 
 1 cannot see the beacon light. 
 
 The storm-clouds are so dark. 
 O Saviour ! If it be thy will, 
 Say to life's tempests, peace, be still. 
 
 64 
 
LET US SO LIVE. 
 
 Let us so live that when at last 
 The joys and grief of life are past, 
 The restless longing of the soul 
 To reach some long desired goal, 
 The weary aching of the heart 
 As we see dear loved friends depart, 
 'I'hat we can smile and clasp the hand 
 Outstretched to guide us to the land 
 To which there comes no pain or death, 
 Or chilling winds with blighting breath, 
 No withered hopes, no haunting fears, 
 No breaking hearts, no blinding tears. 
 But gladly greet the angel mild 
 Our Father sends to lead His child 
 Up from the world of toil and sin 
 To evermore abide with Him. 
 
 65 
 
THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 On a lonely cliff by the moaning sea, 
 
 Where the wild winds whistled and reveled free, 
 
 Stood a fisherman's cot, looking there alone 
 
 Like a sentinel guarding a fortress of stone. 
 
 No wild vine clambered above the door 
 
 To playfully shadow the sanded floor ; 
 
 And there on that gray old rock so high, 
 
 No tiower ventured to bloom and die. 
 
 No sound rent the air round this desolate home, 
 Save the sea-gull's scream and the ocean's moan. 
 As ever and ever with ceaseless beat. 
 The wild waves dashed at the headland's feet. 
 Two dwellers upon this bleak, weird spot. 
 Lived at peace with God in their humble cot : 
 An aged mother, all rae^k and mild, 
 And a gentle daughter, her only child. 
 
 Like some rare exotic, this maiden fair 
 Shed a perfume of love on the ambient air; 
 Her heart was as pure as the mountain snow, 
 Knowing nothing of sorrow or earthly woe ; 
 And nightly at eve when she knelt to pray 
 She spoke of her parent so far away, 
 
 66 
 
Saying, — " Dear Saviour, calm the billowy main, 
 And bring back my father in safety again." 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 The fisherman old, on the briny deep, 
 
 Watched the stars above while the waves were 
 
 asleep, 
 And he thought of his loved on a far-away shore, 
 Ever longing to look on their faces once more. 
 When the storm 'in wild fury was sweeping by 
 He silently prayed to his Father on high : 
 " Speak, Father of love, bid the angry sea 
 Bear me safe unto those who are waiting for me. 
 
 "Yet, if Thy will be, O Father on high. 
 
 That they watch and wait while I sink and die, 
 
 Keep them, I pray Thee, from danger and sin. 
 
 Until through Thy grace Thy heaven they win. 
 
 I leave them with Thee, Thou wilt give them bread : 
 
 From Thy liberal hand even sparrows are fed. 
 
 Unite us again in Thy presence above. 
 
 Forever to praise Thy pardoning love." 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 The night was cold and dark and drear. 
 The air seemed filled with forms of fear ; 
 In the fisherman's cot the firelight shone 
 On the face of a watcher kneeling alone. 
 
 67 
 
Wild were the words of her agonized prayer: 
 " God in heaven ! hear me ; my dear mother spare. 
 Take her not from me ; I can't live alone. 
 No mother, and father so far from home." 
 
 The sick woman slept, nor heeded her child. 
 She was dreaming of heaven and sweetly smiled ; 
 'Till she suddenly woke and murmured low : 
 " Farewell, my dear daughter, I'm ready to go. 
 God will take care of you when I am gone ; 
 Trust in Him always, press steadily on. 
 Would that your father once more I might see ; 
 O God ! I commend both my loved ones to Thee." 
 
 ******* 
 While the last setting sunbeams were gilding the 
 
 west. 
 Kind hands laid the mother away to her rest. 
 " Ashes to ashes," the man of God said, 
 Then the sorrowful maiden sank down like one 
 
 dead. 
 Bat a strong arm upraised her and bore her away. 
 " God be gracious and spare her, have pity I pray, 
 Thou hast mercifully spared from the ruthless sea 
 My life which I consecrate fully to Thee. 
 
 " Thou hast taken my wife whom I loved so well, 
 Up to Thy heaven with Thee to dwell ; 
 
 68 
 
Let my dear child live, O Saviour above, 
 To comfort my grieved heart with her love." 
 In after years oft at close of day 
 An old man and maiden knelt down to pray ; 
 And these were the words that were gratefully said, — 
 " We give thanks for the living and thanks for the 
 dead." 
 
 69 
 
THE SOLDIER^S LAST WORDS. 
 
 A young soldier dying in a hospital left the following mes- 
 sage for his parents with the kind female who had acted as his 
 nurse : 
 
 '"Come, kneel down by my bedside, 
 
 Hear what I wish to say; 
 From out my weary bosom 
 
 Life is ebbing fast away ; 
 And I fain would send a message 
 
 To my aged parents dear, 
 Whom I hope to meet in heaven, 
 
 Though I see them no more here. 
 
 " Tell my father that he never 
 
 Need blush to own his son, 
 For I acted my part bravely. 
 
 Yes, till the fight was done. 
 And though I fell sore wounded, 
 
 My back bears not one scar 
 To say that I retreated, 
 
 Fled from the tide of war. 
 
 "Tell my mother that I never 
 
 Forgot her parting words ; 
 And her last prayer for her 'darling ' 
 
 By my spirit still is heard. 
 
 70 
 
But to other hands was given 
 The task her own would crave, 
 
 And she 's kindly spared the anguish 
 Of looking on my grave. 
 
 " And you, my friend most faithful, 
 
 Have proved a sister dear ; 
 You have soothed my pain and sorrow, 
 
 Made my hope of heaven clear. 
 Farewell," he faintly murmured, 
 
 Then his weary spirit tied ; 
 And the martyr to his country. 
 
 The only son, was dead. 
 
 Then the watcher knelt beside him, 
 
 And breathed a silent prayer 
 For the distant, waiting mother. 
 
 Whose son had been her care. 
 Then she rose and kissed his forehead. 
 
 Brushing back the damp, dark hair ; 
 While she seemed to feel the presence 
 
 Of an angel hovering near. 
 
 71 
 
ONE YEAR AGO TO DAY. 
 
 One year ago to- day 
 
 The sun shone bright as now; 
 And flowers were blooming then, 
 
 While birds sang on each bough, 
 And joy sat smiling in my home, 
 But joy hath now forever flown. 
 
 One year ago to-day, 
 
 With yearnings deep and wild, 
 I clasped unto my breast 
 
 My precious, only child ; 
 But when that autumn day was done 
 His earth life closed at set of sun. 
 
 One year ago to-day 
 
 My darling left my side ; 
 And friends, low whispering, said 
 
 Her little boy hath died. 
 But though I look for him in vain, 
 I know we soon shall meet again. 
 
 One year ago to-day 
 
 My child, in garments white. 
 
 72 
 
Passed through Heaven's open gate 
 
 And wandered out of sight ; 
 And then, because he knew no sin, 
 The loving angels shut him in. 
 
 73 
 
EVENING SHADES ARE GENTLY FALLING. 
 
 Evening shades are gently falling 
 
 Round the weary feet of day ; 
 Voices of the night are calling 
 
 To the sunbeams, " Come away ; 
 For we fain o'er earth would wander, 
 
 Coming unto mortals near. 
 Whispering, precious time ne'er squander. 
 
 For each fleeting hour is dear. 
 Human life is brief at longest, 
 
 Closing with each dying day ! 
 Then with thine own soul^be honest, 
 
 Soon from earth thou 'It pass away ; 
 Night will hide each earthly sorrow. 
 
 Cover every human woe. 
 And the sunbeams on the morrow 
 
 Quietly will come and go; 
 Yes! ofttimes upon the morrow 
 
 Will the sunbeams go and come. 
 While they look on pain and sorrow. 
 
 Shading many a saddened home." 
 
 On the morrow, 'mid the billows. 
 Will the dancing sunbeams lave; 
 
 74 
 
Then they '11 sleep upon the willows, 
 
 Over many a new-made grave ; 
 Sleep, till wakened by the voices, 
 
 Calling them from earth away, 
 To that land where man rejoices 
 
 In one bright eternal day ! 
 But I hear the " voices " calling 
 
 To the trembling sunbeams — " Come,' 
 While the tears of eve are falling, 
 
 And the night-winds plaintive moan. 
 Yet there is a brighter morrow. 
 
 When the sunbeams ne'er shall fade ; 
 For no earthly crime or sorrow 
 
 Will nig-ht's mantle need to shade. 
 
 75 
 
A GRAY DAY. 
 
 The day is gray and cold, 
 The winds sigh as of old, 
 
 And sighing seem to say, — 
 "Summer hath passed away." 
 
 The chimneys belch their smoke 
 From out their open throats. 
 
 The pine trees wave their arms 
 Wildly, as with alarm. 
 
 Cloud-racks athwart the sky 
 Are swiftly crowding by. 
 
 The sweet bird songs are hushed : 
 The flowers lie dead and crushed. 
 
 Adown the wind-swept street 
 Lie leaves in windrows deep. 
 
 The fields, sodden and brown, 
 Have donned their autumn gown. 
 
 The stream that turns the mill 
 Runs slowly down the hill. 
 
 76 
 
As if it felt the strain 
 Of winter's icy cliain, 
 
 That soon with fetters strong 
 Will hush its erstwhile song. 
 
 A silence in the air 
 
 Tells that a storm is there. 
 
 Down in the leaden west 
 Day slowly sinks to rest, 
 
 While over hill and plain 
 Night folds her robe again. 
 
 n 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 I have journeyed back to my youth to-day, 
 
 And life's morning sun has illumined the way; 
 
 As I look through the radiant vista of years, 
 I forget all life's grief, its pains and its fears. 
 
 I stand, as of old, where the four roads meet, 
 Gleaning asters that grow by the dusty street; 
 
 And now, as oft then, again I hear 
 The oriole singing loud and clear. 
 
 And nestling there 'neath the elm trees three 
 Stands the old gray house that was home to me 
 
 And mother I see, as in days of yore, 
 Watching and waiting beside the door ; 
 
 Patiently waiting for me to come 
 
 Back to my loving mother and home; 
 
 And I seem to feel on my brow again 
 The touch of her kiss as I felt it then. 
 
 Out where the tall elm branches meet, 
 The well lies anchored at their feet ; 
 
 Of its sweet waters clear and cool 
 
 I oft have drunk on my way from school. 
 
 78 
 
While I travel along the dusty way, 
 
 My heart is in tune with the summer day; 
 
 Soon by my dear mother's side I stand, 
 And lay the wild flowers in her hand. 
 
 And father I see coming down the lane, 
 Leading the horse by his milk-white mane ; 
 
 Satchel in hand he sees me come, 
 
 And cheerfully bids me welcome home- 
 
 ******* 
 
 While I travel back through a mist of tears, 
 Back from my childhood's blissful years, 
 
 There comes to my heart a cruel pain. 
 As I long for the dear old days again ; 
 
 Long for the love so tender and true. 
 
 The sweet mother love that my young heart knew 
 Oh, that once more on my mother's breast 
 
 My world-weary head might peacefully rest. 
 
 79 
 
MAGDALEN. 
 
 The bars of the orient sunset 
 
 Glistened like beaten gold; 
 While the patient, watchful shepherds, 
 
 Were leading their lambs to the fold. 
 No sound forced its harsh intrusion 
 
 On all the ambient air, 
 Save the music of playful waters 
 
 And the muezzin's call to prayer. 
 
 Along a thread-like pathway, 
 
 That meandered over the plain, 
 Came a maiden with lingering footsteps. 
 
 And heart filled with anguish and pain. 
 She saw not the sunset's glory, 
 
 Neither knew that the earth looked aflame ; 
 To her the shadows of midnight, 
 
 And day's brightest light seemed the same. 
 
 She knelt and raised her eyes heavenward, 
 
 And offered a silent prayer ; 
 She looked like some truant angel. 
 
 Her face was so meek and fair. 
 At length she entered the city. 
 
 At the sad, sweet vesper time, 
 
 80 
 
And entering into a temple, 
 She knelt by its gilded shrine, 
 
 And murmured, — "I am unworthy 
 
 To pray in this holy place, 
 But I humbly ask for forgiveness. 
 
 And the blessing of God's grace. 
 They call me a dog of a Christian, 
 
 And brand me with guilt and shame: 
 Bereft of pity and friendship, 
 
 I bear a dishonored name." 
 
 Then she bowed her head in silence. 
 
 While the "faithful" were kneeling 
 around. 
 And the peace she so earnestly prayed for. 
 
 Her sorrowing spirit found. 
 She saw not the fading twilight. 
 
 Nor heeded the gathering gloom, 
 But knelt in worshipful silence, 
 
 Giving thanks for a priceless boon. 
 
 At length a belated worshiper 
 To the side of the maiden came. 
 
 And gazed in wonder upon her 
 Who never would sin again ; 
 
For while the sweet vesper incense 
 Was carried through heaven's door, 
 
 The shrieven soul of a mortal 
 Passed in to 2:0 out no more. 
 
 82 
 
LET US PRAY. 
 
 Night has come with noiseless footsteps, 
 And has closed the eyes of day; 
 
 While the flowers with folded petals 
 Seem to whisper, — "Let us pray." 
 
 Quietly the stars of evening 
 
 Gather in the milky way ; 
 While the winds with solemn cadence 
 
 Seem to murmur, — " Let us pray." 
 
 When shall come our life's last evening, 
 'Mid death's shadows cold and gray. 
 
 May we fold our robes about us. 
 Saying meekly, — " Let us pray." 
 
 83 
 
AN "OLD HOME DAY" INVITATION. 
 
 Ye wanderers from home, 
 
 Come back to your native state, 
 
 The lakes and mountains call. 
 The wild birds for you wait. 
 
 The cot at the foot of the hill 
 Still stands with an open door, 
 
 Ready to welcome you in. 
 As it did in the days of yore. 
 
 The forest is yet standing near, 
 And it echoes the mountain's call ; 
 
 Come back to the verdant hills. 
 
 Truant children, come back, one and all. 
 
 The wild flowers down in the dell 
 Hold their fragrance in chalices fair. 
 
 Already, whenever you come. 
 To perfume the ambient air. 
 
 Come back to the scenes that you loved, 
 In the far-away days of the past ; 
 
 Come back where the aged ones wait 
 To welcome you home at last. 
 
 84 
 
Kneel again at your mother's knee, 
 And repeat your childhood's prayer, 
 
 Then thank your loving Lord 
 That you are once more there. 
 
 Come back! Come back ! the echoes call. 
 From mountains, lakes, and stream. 
 
 And meet once more the dear old friends 
 Of whom you ofttimes dream. 
 
 Come back to the graves of your dead, 
 Where they quietly, peacefully sleep ; 
 
 There scatter sweet tributes of love, 
 And gather fond memories to keep. 
 
 85 
 
LAMENT OF THE PROSCRIBED. 
 
 I stand alone, 
 Like some scathed tree by fierce lightnings blighted, 
 A target for life's storms. I weep, but am 
 Unpitied. Hearts are cold that once were warm. 
 My hours are weary ; when night shuts up the 
 Gates of day I long for morn ; and when the 
 Dawn puts out the lamps of night I sigh for 
 Starry evening. 
 
 Great billows of unrest 
 Are surging o'er my soul. Earth can no peace 
 Bestow. Heaven pity me whom man disowns. 
 For many a year I have been a wanderer, 
 Fleeing from the wrath of man ; yet no refuge 
 Have I found. I long for a dreamless sleep, 
 I beckon for death's angel, yet he doth 
 Not come. Why should I wear life longer .? 'T were 
 Better far to wrest the death-stroke from the 
 Hand Almighty. Life loveless is not life, 
 But a dark, blank existence. 
 
 O Death ! I rush 
 To thine embrace. Alas ! Thou fleest from 
 Me. Death ! I stretch my hands toward thee and 
 beg 
 
 86 
 
To drain the cup my fellow-mortals shrink 
 From; wilt thou not give it me? O God, bid 
 The grim messenger unlock the portal 
 Of the grave, and do thou pardon grant and 
 Give me rest within Thy sinless land. 
 
 87 
 
UNDER THE HEDGES. 
 
 Under the hedges the wild rose is blooming, 
 
 Wasting its fragrance while no one is near ; 
 Up in the blue sky the gay lark is singing 
 
 His sweet song of triumph, in notes loud and 
 clear. 
 While hope to my heart whispers softly and 
 sweetly, — 
 " He ne'er will forget, have thou never a fear." 
 
 Out in the forest the fair golden lilies 
 
 Make tremulous shadows upon the clear stream, 
 While down at their feet the cool, verdant mosses 
 
 Entice one to slumber and peacefully dream. 
 So down in my heart lie sweet thoughts of life's 
 future. 
 
 Illumined by hope's most flattering gleam. 
 
 Under the hedges the rose leaves are faded, 
 
 Hushed 'neath the sky is the lark's gleeful song ; 
 Down in the forest the dead leaves lie shrouded 
 'Neath the pure robe of white the earth has put 
 on. 
 So, down in my heart hope's sweet buds have with- 
 ered ; 
 I will tenderly bury them one by one. 
 
 88 
 
Soon to the earth will come again springtime, 
 Fair roses and lilies will burst into bloom ; 
 Violets, green mosses, and starry-eyed daisies, 
 At the call of the south wind will come from their 
 tomb. 
 So, unto my heart there will come a glad spring- 
 time, 
 When the clear light of heaven shall illumine its 
 gloom. 
 
GOD'S WAYS ARE NOT AS MAN'S WAYS. 
 
 Know ye who count wealth by its millions, 
 That God made the green earth for all, 
 
 And loves with the same love his children. 
 Whether men call them great or small. ■ 
 
 Come down from thy lofty pedestals, 
 Where thy rubies and diamonds shine, 
 
 And know that with all thy greatness, 
 
 Some one's flagstaff stands higher than thine. 
 
 And remember the "mites" of the widow 
 Weighed more in the Master's esteem 
 
 Than the rich men's glittering silver, 
 
 With their haughty pride thrown between. 
 
 Know ye who boast of your brave deeds, 
 Standing high in the temple of fame. 
 
 There are heroes down in the low valley. 
 
 Though the world knows not even their name. 
 
 There are bowed heads in many a household, 
 
 By labor and sorrow pressed down ; 
 Though they bear not the name of martyr, 
 
 They '11 at last wear a martyr's crown. 
 
 90 
 
For God's ways are not as man's ways, 
 He searcheth the hearts of men, 
 
 He seeth their secret intentions, 
 x\nd judgeth the soul by them. 
 
 91 
 
A SUMMER MORNING. 
 
 The dew is shining on the meadow, 
 A lark is soaring toward the sky, 
 
 And yonder at the forest edges, 
 The noisy brook is running by. 
 
 Each tree has hung its leafy banner 
 High up upon the ambient air, 
 
 And all the flowerets stand aquiver, 
 While mist-veils shade their faces fair. 
 
 Down in the glens the bright red berries 
 Lurk cunningly beneath green leaves, 
 
 While all about with golden meshes 
 The morning sun a mantle weaves. 
 
 The wild bee from the purple clover 
 Is stealing now his winter sweets ; 
 
 On the tall elm tree boughs a-swinging 
 The oriole his sweetheart greets. 
 
 Nature all clothed in golden glory 
 Is offering up her matin prayer. 
 
 While from her shrine the sweetest incense 
 Floats upward on the slumbrous air. 
 
CONTRAST. 
 
 Oh ! proud is the flower that rears its head 
 
 And longs for the kiss of the sun ; 
 By his ardent embrace at last it lies dead, 
 
 Betrayed by the love it hath won. 
 Better the fate of the violet blue, 
 
 That trembles and shrinks from his eye ; 
 The love of its sheltering leaf is all true, 
 
 And will change not until both shall die. 
 
 Richer by far is the heart that hath won 
 
 The love of one true, humble friend, 
 Than that which has lavished its smiles upon all. 
 
 And hath none that will love to the end. 
 For sick is that soul which hope forsakes, 
 
 Then dark is the life that is borne ; 
 Oh ! lips may smile while the sad heart breaks, 
 
 And the cold world looks tearlessly on. 
 
 93 
 
LEMUEL'S DREAM. 
 
 Lemuel slept by a murmuring stream, 
 
 And his spirit was lost in a wondrous dream ; 
 
 He fancied he saw the gates of gold 
 
 Of the city of God to himself unfold, 
 
 And the shadowy forms of the dwellers therein 
 
 Wore garments of white unsullied by sin. 
 
 And gently out on the ambient air 
 
 Floated music sweet from an infant choir; 
 
 As they joyfully sang of wonderful themes 
 
 Their faces were gilded with glory beams, 
 
 And the anthem they played on their harps of gold 
 
 The shepherds heard in the days of old. 
 
 Now Lemuel knocked at an open gate, 
 Where an angel warder doth ever wait, 
 And in trembling accents asked of him 
 If a child of earth might enter in ; 
 In this beautiful city he fain would be, 
 And wander or rest by its crystal sea. 
 
 Then answered the warder with sword of flame, 
 "Pilgrim of earth, what is thy name.' 
 
 94 
 
Who dares to come and enlrance seek 
 To the home of the holy, just, and meek? 
 Knowest thou not that the dust of thy feet 
 Would sully the sheen of these golden streets ? " 
 
 Then Lemuel spoke with head bowed low, 
 " I am stained by the dust of earth, I know ; 
 But is there no fount or pellucid stream 
 In which I may lave myself and be clean ? " 
 Then the warder joyfully took his hand, 
 And showed him a fount called the " blood of the 
 Lamb." 
 
 Then Lemuel plunged in the fountain to lave, 
 And purity came to him out of the wave ; 
 Then he quickly returned to the pearly gate 
 Where the angel warder for him did wait, 
 Who welcomed him now to walk within. 
 For on him was found no stain of sin. 
 
 But Lemuel awoke from his beautiful dream 
 
 To find himself still by the murmuring stream, 
 
 And he wept while he thought how far he must be 
 
 From the pearly gate and the crystal sea ; 
 
 Then he prayed to be pure that at last he might see 
 
 The beautiful home of the Deitv. 
 
 95 
 
IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 
 
 It might have been, ah ! yes; if He had willed it, 
 Who noticeth the sparrows when they fall ; 
 
 It might have been, had we not met that sorrow 
 Which lies in wait for all. 
 
 It might have been, if shadows had not gathered 
 While sunshine on our path was freely shed ; 
 
 If hopes we cherished had but found fruition, 
 Instead of dying, leaving words unsaid. 
 
 It might have been. Leave those sad words un- 
 spoken — 
 Those "saddest words from tongue or pen "; 
 Were human heart-strings never broken 
 
 Mortals would miss the patience that is born of 
 pain. 
 
 It might have been ; yet, would it have been better 
 If flowers had bloomed where thorns and thistles 
 grow ? 
 
 In vain we ask our hearts the question 
 This side eternity we cannot know. 
 
 96 
 
It might have been ; ah ! well, we will not murmur, 
 The darkest night awaits a brighter morn ; 
 
 We will not weep ; but bid our hearts be patient 
 And bear life's burdens with a smile and song. 
 
 It might have been, 'tis true; but we will trust 
 Him 
 
 Who leads us in the ways our feet have trod ; 
 He will not chasten us forever, 
 
 And though He slay us, let us trust in God. 
 
 97 
 
so LONG AGO. 
 
 So long ago he went his way 
 One golden-hued, sweet autumn day, 
 That I have now almost forgot 
 To murmur at my lonely lot^ 
 
 So long ago; I cannot tell 
 How many times down in the dell 
 The lily fair has bloomed to fade, 
 Unseen within her quiet glade. 
 
 So long ago ; I hardly know 
 
 How oft stern winter's piled his snow 
 
 Over the daisy-covered breast 
 
 Of him who lies in dreamless rest. 
 
 So long ago ; yet year by year 
 His memory grows more fondly dear; 
 O Father, whisper "Thou 'rt forgiven,' 
 Then bid me meet my child in heaven. 
 
AFTER. 
 
 After the storm cloud passeth, 
 Cometh the bright blue sky ; 
 
 After grief's shadow fleeth, 
 Be sure that a joy is nigh. 
 
 After the "ashes to ashes," 
 
 Sweet daisies shall cover' the dead ; 
 After the sad words of parting, 
 
 The glad words of greeting are said. 
 
 After life's wearisome labor, 
 
 Cometh heaven's vi^elcome rest ; 
 
 After earth's fickle friendship. 
 Companionship with the blest. 
 
 After the " valley of shadows," 
 
 There are hills all covered with light ; 
 
 After the deep, dark river, 
 
 God's beautiful throne of white. 
 
 99 
 
DANDELIONS. 
 
 Little golden dandelions 
 
 Glowing in the grass, 
 Smiling at the weary ones 
 
 As they slowly pass ; 
 
 And their cheery faces 
 
 Seem to say to all, — 
 " While 't is gladsome summer-time 
 
 Never think of fall. 
 
 " Though there may be gloomy days, 
 
 Days of wind and rain. 
 Soon from out the storm-clouds 
 
 The sun will shine again. 
 
 "We are humble flowerets, 
 
 Oftentimes unseen, 
 Yet our robe of topaz 
 
 Well might grace a queen. 
 
 "And we wear contentment 
 
 As a priceless gem, 
 So we are always happy. 
 
 Far happier than men. 
 
" We say to downcast mortals, 
 Without wealth or friends, 
 
 Learn a lesson from the lowly, 
 That will cheer you till life ends. 
 
 Only little dandelions, 
 
 Blooming in the grass. 
 Teaching useful lessons 
 
 To people as they pass. 
 
SUPPLICATION. 
 
 O Lord God of hosts, look down from Thy throne 
 Of glory upon Thy suppliants. Bow down 
 Thine ear and listen to their pleading prayer. 
 O Thou who dost harken to the ravens, 
 Hear the cries of Thy children. Feed, oh, feed 
 The starving, clothe the naked, we pray Thee. 
 Send rain upon the parched earth, let it quench 
 The thirst of the dying, and cause the land 
 To yield an abundant harvest. O Father, 
 Thou hearest the sound of strife on bloody 
 Battlefields. Say to the restless nations. 
 Peace, be still. And then a great calm shall rest 
 Upon each rebellious spirit, until 
 All shall say, let Thy will be done. Give Thou 
 Wisdom to all rulers, that they may know 
 Thy will and rule in righteousness ; then shall 
 The angel's song, once heard in Bethlehem, 
 Be heard on earth again. Hear us and grant 
 Our prayer according to Thy will. Amen. 
 
N EARING HOME. 
 
 Slowly the shadows are lengthening, 
 The winds make a solemn moan ; 
 
 'Mid the golden light of the sunset 
 A soul is nearing its home. 
 
 Silently day is now fading, 
 
 While the stars come out one by one 
 To light up the heavenly pathway 
 
 For the soul that is passing on : 
 
 On through the quiet of midnight, 
 Up toward the mountains of light, 
 
 Whose crests wear a gleam of the glory 
 That streams from the throne of white. 
 
 Far away from the echo of farewells. 
 Beyond sorrow's bitterest groan, 
 
 Through the glorious gates of morning, 
 A soul has found its way home. 
 
TIRED TIM. 
 
 Cold blew the wind, and the sleet 
 Fell thickl}^ and fast on the street ; 
 While the wayfarers hurried on 
 To get away from the biting storm. 
 
 Round a corner a newsboy came, 
 Trying to sell his papers in vain ; 
 Men with coats buttoned up to their chin 
 Saw not, cared not, thought not of him. 
 
 Clad in garments ragged and old. 
 
 That sheltered him not from the piercing cold, 
 
 With worn-out shoes on his tired feet, 
 
 He hurried along the frozen street, 
 
 Crying, " Herald and Times, will nobody bu} ? 
 I am hungry and cold, and wish I could die ; 
 I have not a friend to love me, or know 
 Were I buried to-night under the snow." 
 
 " Herald and Times." His words fainter grew, 
 The cutting wind was chilling him through; 
 Slower and slower along the street 
 Moved the aching limbs and the weary feet. 
 
 104 
 
"I am tired, so tired," said little Tim, 
 As he sank by the way. No one noticed him. 
 The snow and the sleet fell on his pale brow, 
 But he heeded them not; he was sleeping now. 
 
 A watchman passing along his beat 
 Found a stiff little form half covered with sleet ; 
 He tenderly lifted it up with care, 
 Wondering who had been lying there. 
 
 Tightly clasped in his hands when he fell 
 Were the Herald and Times he had tried to 
 
 sell ; 
 They took the papers away from him, 
 God had given sweet rest to tired Tim. 
 
QUESTIONINGS. 
 
 O loved one, how long we have lived apart! 
 
 As the seasons come and go, 
 Dost thou hear the beat of the violet's heart, 
 
 Or feel the chill of the snow ? 
 
 And when in the holy twilight sweet. 
 
 To your resting-place I stray. 
 Dost thou know the solemn tread of my feet, 
 
 Or the sorrowful words I say ? 
 
 Dost thou catch the breath of the flowers fair, 
 That I kiss and lay at your feet ; 
 
 Or hear the hum of the bees in the air, 
 As they steal away their sweets ? 
 
 Dost thou know the longing within my heart, 
 
 That is ever calling for thee. 
 Or are we dwelling so far apart 
 
 That thou canst not know or see ? 
 
 Alas ! Alas ! To my questionings vain 
 No answer comes back from thee ; 
 
 And ever I hear but the sad refrain 
 That memory brings to me. 
 
 1 06 
 
A PRAYER. 
 
 Dear heavenly Father take my hand 
 
 And lead me day by day; 
 Be Thou my constant help and guide 
 
 Along life's thorny way. 
 
 I cannot tell what good or ill 
 Thou hast in store for me ; 
 
 Thou must Thy purposes fulfil, 
 And I must trust in Thee. 
 
 I do not know, when earth life ends, 
 What the next life may be, 
 
 But if Thou closely keep my hand 
 It matters not to me. 
 
 If it should be Thy righteous will 
 
 To give me grief or pain, 
 I still will trust, and clasp Thy hand : 
 
 I shall not trust in vain. 
 
 107 
 
MEADOW-LAND. 
 
 Down in the meadow-land, 
 
 Just over yonder, 
 Sweet, yellow cowslips 
 
 Have burst into bloom ; 
 And down in the rank grass 
 
 The wild birds are nesting. 
 While insects are piping 
 
 Their old-fashioned tune. 
 
 Down by the meadow-land 
 
 Tall trees are standing, 
 Casting their shadows 
 
 To darken the sun, 
 While up in their branches 
 
 A gay lark is singing 
 His sweet song of triumph 
 
 O'er some victory won. 
 
 Down close to the meadow-land, 
 
 Quite on its margin, 
 A frolicsome brooklet' 
 
 Is dancing along, 
 
 io8 
 
While thick on its border 
 The green, nodding rushes, 
 
 Keep time to the rhyme 
 Of its musical song. 
 
 Beautiful meadow-land, 
 
 Quiet and peaceful, 
 Spreading your green lap 
 
 To hold the bright sun ; 
 Down near to thy side 
 
 Would I find my last slumber. 
 When life's tiresome journey 
 
 Is joyfully done. 
 
 109 
 
APOSTROPHE TO JUNE. 
 
 O June ! Thy breezes seem bliss laden, like 
 The breath of angels. Thy flower embroidered 
 Robes are dripping wet with fragrance. And thy 
 Smile is like the beam that gilds some mold'ring 
 Tower with golden light at evening. 
 
 O June! 
 Thy presence is a prophecy of good 
 To come, a promise of the gifts our kind 
 And loving Father hath in store for us ; 
 A whisper of fair skies and music sweet 
 That all day long shall haunt the mossy woods, 
 Where berries red and rich lurk cunningly 
 Beneath green leaves. 
 
 O June ! Why is thy stay 
 So brief ? Doth no one bid thee welcome ? Dost 
 Thou tire of wasting thy rare melody 
 On souls attuned to grief ? When thou art gone 
 Why should I linger? Could I bear to see 
 Thy roses dead, crushed buds, and withered sweets ? 
 Should I not sadly miss thy gifts of love, 
 And pine for thy companionship ? Ah, yes. 
 And ever and forever would my soul 
 
Be longing after thee and restful sleep. 
 Far better would it be could we but be 
 Exhaled together, while some loving friend 
 Looked on and said, " Requiescat in pace."" 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 The leaves are painted with autumnal glory, 
 But sad winds whisper ever of decay, 
 
 While Nature tells her unforgotten story. 
 How all that's beautiful must fade away. 
 
 Through all the forest aisles the wild bee wanders. 
 Seeking to find one yet un withered flower, 
 
 And the last bird of summer sadly ponders 
 Alone within his melancholy bower. 
 
 Of all the flowers that summer fondly cherished, 
 Not one is left to breathe a farewell sigh ; 
 
 The roses and the passion-flowers have perished, 
 For things most beautiful are first to die. 
 
 The babbling brook has ceased its merry laughter. 
 And murmurs now in low and plaintive tones 
 
 The sweet, sad music of the word hereafter. 
 
 To breaking hearts that have world-weary grown. 
 
 To-day my heart is like the sad, sweet autumn, 
 For with the flowers my hopes have passed away, 
 
 But I shall find the flowers again in springtime. 
 And meet my hopes where reigns eternal day. 
 
THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 Slowly sank the sun adown the western 
 Sky ; his weary footsteps seemed to linger 
 On their homeward journey, as if he loved 
 The sunny southland, better even than 
 The shining west that with cheeks all glowing 
 And lips of crimson waited to greet him. 
 Perhaps 'twas pity staid his footsteps, for 
 He lingered on a field all gory, — wet 
 With human blood. 
 
 His rosy beams grew paler 
 While he gazed upon the broad-spread carnage; — 
 Sad result of an unholy human 
 Avarice ; and of passions fiend-like ; or, 
 Of a vain ambition that forever 
 Urges on its votaries toward that 
 Vortex by fate created to destroy 
 The hopes of mortals, making shipwreck of 
 The soul. 
 
 On that red field lay many an 
 Upturned face with pain distorted. Eyes that 
 Closed not with the death pang ; lips open but 
 Yet motionless ; through which had quickly sprung 
 
 113 
 
The immortal spirit, as the caged bird 
 
 Leaps forth from his prison house when careless 
 
 Childhood has the door unbound. 
 
 Old and young 
 Were there all silent; and the lingering 
 Sunbeams kissed a last adieu alike upon 
 The care-worn wrinkled brow, and cheek of manly 
 Beauty. Fathers were there, and brothers, and 
 The brave lover whose cold hand yet clasped the 
 Shadow of his spirit's idol ; all were 
 Sleeping, — a long, deep, dreamless sleep. Nor 
 
 could 
 The signal of the loudly beating drum, 
 Or thunder of the whole artillery. 
 Bring them to conscious life again. 
 
 Here was 
 The humanity of man ; all cold and 
 Lifeless, like the fiery charger that close 
 Beside him, with glaring eye, distended 
 Nostril and protruding tongue, panted his 
 Life away ; — an hour ago, how proudly 
 Bore he on his fearless rider to the 
 Bloody conflict ! But his work is ended. 
 He, too, sleeps. 
 
 114 
 
On the morrow into many 
 A home will dark-winged sorrow enter, as 
 The swift-footed messenger brings tidings 
 Of the dead. And friends will gather round him 
 Waiting anxiously to listen to the 
 Sad tale of woe that their own hearts have half 
 Mistrusted ; but they wait not long; too soon 
 The dread words fall upon unwilling 
 Ears, and eyes are deluged with the flood of grief 
 That now o'erwhelms the soul ! While hearts are 
 
 wildly 
 Beating, aching, breaking, that even at 
 The cry of " Victory ! Victory ! " will 
 Not cease their moan. 
 
 God of the battle-field ! 
 From her home in heaven let gentle Peace 
 Come down and dwell with mortals. Then shall 
 
 man 
 Learn war no more. 
 
 115 
 
THOSE HALCYON DAYS. 
 
 Those halcyon days, the days gone by, 
 With the star of hope in the bright blue sky ; 
 Their pictures are hanging in memory's hall. 
 And their voices answer my spirit's call. 
 
 I hear again the bluebird sing 
 On the sweetbrier bush that grew by the spring ; 
 And I gather the lilies down in the dell, 
 Where at noon the cooling shadows fell. 
 
 I fain would pick the violets sweet, 
 That used to grow at the old elm's feet ; 
 The elm whose branches towering high 
 Seemed touching the fleecy folds of sky. 
 
 I sit on the moss-covered stone once more. 
 That has lain for years on the river's shore ; 
 And I dream the dreams of my youth again, 
 The sweet old dreams, as I dreamed them then. 
 
 And I feel the loving clasp of a hand 
 That pressed my own in life's morning land ; 
 And a beautiful face again I see. 
 That once seemed fairest of all to me. 
 
 ii6 
 
But while I walk through the aisles of the past, 
 Dark shadows are gathering thick and fast ; 
 And my e37es are filled with the mist of tears, 
 That shuts out the light of bygone years. 
 
 117 
 
HEREAFTER. 
 
 Somewhere within the great hereafter, 
 
 Our souls will greet the loved who left us here ; 
 Over beyond the crystal river, 
 
 Hands will clasp hands with those most dear. 
 
 There we shall fully know the meaning 
 Of trials that o'ertook us on life's way; 
 
 And we shall wonder at the weak impatience 
 With which we murmured day by day. 
 
 We cannot tell the why and wherefore 
 
 Of all the mysteries that surround us here; 
 
 We only know that in the bright hereafter, 
 
 Things now seen dimly will be there made clear. 
 
 Some time within the glad hereafter, 
 
 The Christ of Calvary our eyes shall see ; 
 
 We shall behold His great white throne of glory, 
 And He will give us palms of victory. 
 
 ii8 
 
OPEN MINE EYES. 
 
 Open mine eyes that I may see 
 The majesty that dwells in Thee ; 
 While humbly bowing at Thy feet, 
 Where majesty and mercy meet. 
 
 Open mine eyes, O God of love, 
 Let peace descending like a dove 
 Abide with me and cheer my soul, 
 While waves of sorrow o'er me roll. 
 
 Open mine eyes and let me see 
 The way that leads to heaven and Thee ; 
 Then Father take my willing hand 
 And lead me to that better land. 
 
 119 
 
AFTER ALL IS OVER. 
 
 After life's toil is over, 
 
 And we fold our hands to rest, 
 The way our Father led us 
 
 We shall know hath been the best. 
 
 Though often grief's dark shadow 
 Turned to night our brightest day, 
 
 And our fondly cherished idols 
 Ever proved to be but clay; — 
 
 Yet, the Father always loved us. 
 
 Though with thorns He strewed life's way 
 While we traveled toward the "mansions" 
 
 Waiting in the land of day. 
 
 And when life's battle hath ended, 
 And we have laid our armor down. 
 
 We shall better know the reason 
 Why the cross precedes the crown. 
 
EVENING. 
 
 The young moon has set in the west, 
 While the night dews are silently falling 
 
 The nightingale, perched on a bough, 
 Loud and clear to his mate is calling. 
 
 The wind idly flutters the leaves, 
 As if tired of soughing and sighing ; 
 
 While the flower that lives but a day. 
 Yonder, out in the garden, lies dying. 
 
 The crickets pipe their shrill notes. 
 While the dusky twilight still lingers ; 
 
 Until all the firefly lamps 
 
 Are lighted by night's sable fingers. 
 
 Far off in the orient sky 
 
 A beautiful star is shining ; 
 And it seems to us mortals to say, 
 
 " Each cloud hath a silver linins:.'' 
 
THE INEBRIATE'S PRAYER. 
 
 A poor man knelt at close of day 
 An earnest, heart-felt prater to say ; 
 With head bowed low by weight of sin, 
 Thus did his humble prayer begin : 
 " O Father ! May I call Thee so ? 
 Thou knowest all my weight of woe ; 
 My wicked soul by Thee is seen, 
 I can but cry unclean, unclean. 
 
 "A vile, unworthy slave of sin. 
 
 For many a weary year I 've been ; 
 
 I've scorned Thy word. Thy name blasphemed. 
 
 Thine holy day I 've not esteemed. 
 
 I hardly dare to Thee to pray, 
 
 Lest Thou should cast my prayer away ; 
 
 And when I meet Thee face to face. 
 
 Refuse my soul in heaven a place. 
 
 " Christ Jesus died, I 've heard men tell, 
 To save poor sinful souls from hell ; 
 Do Thou for His sake pity me. 
 And from defilement set me free. 
 Thou knowest I am left alone 
 Within this desolated home ; 
 
My patient wife and children three 
 Have gone to heaven to live with Thee. 
 
 " I 'm wretched, starving, sick, and old, 
 Covered with rags, dying of cold ; 
 Pity, O God ! my aching brain. 
 Stung by remorse and filled with pain ;, 
 On earth I would no longer stay ; 
 I pray Thee let me die to-day. 
 I dare not hope to enter heaven, 
 I only beg to be forgiven." 
 
 ******* 
 A pitying angel passing by 
 Saw the lone man lay down to die ; 
 And gathering up the sinner's prayer, 
 He bore it up the golden stair 
 And laid it at the Saviour's feet. 
 When, lo! it changed to incense sweet. 
 The dear Lord said, — "He is forgiven." 
 And thus the inebriate's soul was shriven. 
 
 123 
 
ALONG THE SHORE. 
 
 Along the shore the solemn shadows gather, 
 To watch the sunbeams dying in the west ; 
 
 While sighing winds with gentle motion, 
 Rock the tired billows into slumbrous rest. 
 
 From yonder ocean bar comes sullen moanings, 
 Like the complaint of souls attuned to grief ; 
 
 Or like the hopeless wail of one heart-broken 
 To whom death only can bring sweet relief. 
 
 LTpon the shore a battered wreck is lying, 
 
 Thrown there, sometime, by the fierce angry sea 
 
 From broken masts its tattered sails are flying, 
 Like fettered spirits striving to get free. 
 
 Far out upon the waves a beacon light is streaming 
 To guide benighted ships upon their way ; 
 
 Lest some unshriven soul on long life dreaming, 
 Should find its grave before another day. 
 
 O'erhead the circling gulls are screaming. 
 
 Nearer the waves the watchful shadows creep ; 
 
 From out the west the last red streak has faded, 
 And soon o'er all will fall the quietude of sleep. 
 
 124 
 
RETRIBUTION. 
 
 Annie Arling sat by the window 
 
 In the dusk of the dewy eve, 
 
 And her eyes looked over the lowland, 
 
 Far out on the restless sea. 
 
 She saw not the gathering shadows. 
 
 She heard not the waves kiss the beach. 
 
 For her heart was learning a lesson 
 
 Which sorrow alone can teach. 
 
 Her face in the gathering darkness 
 Grew marble-like, ghostly pale, 
 As if to her heart the night-winds 
 Were whispering a fearful tale. 
 She forgot that the stars of evening. 
 As they lovingly looked upon all. 
 Saw the dead in the widow's cottage 
 And the bride in the princely hall. 
 
 But she thought to herself in her sorrow, 
 
 "No loving eye looks upon me." 
 
 Then she prayed, " Father, open heaven's portal 
 
 And let Thy sad child come to Thee." 
 
 She had raised her eyes pleadingly heavenward. 
 
 Her dark eyes all wet with grief's dew. 
 
 125 
 
And they looked like the star's companions 
 Who had wandered from out ether blue. 
 
 But the angel who watches the lowly 
 
 And comforteth those who weep, 
 
 Passing by on some errand of mercy, 
 
 Saw the maiden alone with her grief. 
 
 Then he paused and he whispered, " O maiden, 
 
 Think of Him who hath drained sorrow's cup ; 
 
 That of which thou hast but lightly tasted 
 
 He in his deep anguish drank up. 
 
 "Arouse thee, and live to cheer others, 
 The afiflicted, the erring, and weak; 
 Words of sympathy, hope, consolation. 
 Ever be it thy mission to speak. 
 And thus, like an angel of mercy, 
 Scatter smiles and never a frown. 
 Then our Father will lovingly bless thee 
 And at last He will give thee a crown." 
 
 Annie Arling arose from the window, 
 
 And wiping a tear from her cheek, 
 
 Murmured, "Father, since Thou hast willed it, 
 
 Strengthen me ; I am so weak." 
 
 That night while her head pressed her pillow, 
 
 A smile lighted up her pale face, 
 
 126 
 
For her spirit had heard a low whisper, 
 Saying, " Fear not, I give thee my grace." 
 
 Paul Sinclair rode in his carriage. 
 
 By his side sat his beautiful bride. 
 
 With never a thought of sorrow, 
 
 Her vain heart filled with pride. 
 
 And he thought, " I have married a fortune, 
 
 High rank, and shining gold." 
 
 But he strove to forget a vision 
 
 That haunted him still as of old. 
 
 A vision of spiritual beauty, 
 A face that was meek and fair ; 
 Dark eyes that were deeply lustrous 
 And folds of ebon-hued hair. 
 A voice like the wind-harp's music 
 Echoed ever in memory's hall ; 
 Like a melody unforgotten 
 It answered his spirit's call. 
 
 But he plucked the flowers of feeling 
 And buried them one by one 
 Deep down by the vow he had perjured, 
 And he smiled when his work was clone. 
 Then he said, " I '11 forget Annie Arling " 
 (Once he promised to love her till death), 
 
 127 
 
" I '11 forget her and think of my station, 
 My honorable office and wealth." 
 
 Time with swift feet hurried onward, 
 
 Bringing changes to lowly and great, 
 
 For none may desert in life's battle, 
 
 But all must accept of their fate. 
 
 Long years have passed by since Paul Sinclair 
 
 Cast from him a pure heart for gold ; 
 
 His wealth and his health have departed, 
 
 His proud wife sleeps beneath the earth's mould. 
 
 And now in a miserable cottage 
 
 Paul Sinclair is dying alone ; 
 
 No hand of affection to cheer him, 
 
 No loved one to list to his moan. 
 
 And he prays, in his soul's bitter anguish, 
 
 " O Thou who didst give Thy dear Son 
 
 To save sinners, forgive me. 
 
 And bless her I 've wronged." 
 
 He starts from his heart-felt devotion 
 To gaze on a form standing near. 
 And he thought, "Surely this is some angel 
 God hath sent down to answer my prayer." 
 
 128 
 
But she spoke in a voice sweet and lowly: 
 " I have come for I heard of your need." 
 Then he answered, " I am dying, kind lady, 
 But this my last message pray heed : 
 
 " Seek to find one they call Annie Arling 
 
 And give her this lock of gray hair ; 
 
 Then tell her I prayed for forgiveness 
 
 And God kindly answered my prayer. 
 
 And say though I 've sinned yet I 've suffered. 
 
 For my love it was true to the last ; 
 
 And I know she will kindly forgive me 
 
 The sorrow I caused in the past." 
 
 The kind lady smoothed the hard pillow 
 For the erring one's world-weary head ; 
 Then she looked on his wrinkled features 
 And knew that Paul Sinclair was dead. 
 Then she knelt by that humble bedside 
 And said in the silence there : 
 " O Father ! Let Thy will be my will." 
 And God heard Annie Arling's low prayer. 
 
 129 
 
INCONSTANCY. 
 
 A lily fair dwelt in a dell, 
 
 And all day swung her noiseless bell ; 
 
 And from a wondrous cup of white, 
 Scattered sweet perfume all the night. 
 
 A humble violet living near, 
 Looked on the lily without fear. 
 
 Fair lily saw his look one day 
 And proudly turned her head away. 
 
 Saying with sneer and lofty mien, 
 "A peasant may not woo a queen." 
 
 Close by, upon the other side, 
 A moss-rose lived, in regal pride. 
 
 Fair lily oft had glanced that way. 
 Hoping that rose some word would say. 
 
 At last, moss-rose declared his love. 
 Swearing by all the stars above. 
 
 And trembling lily bowed her head 
 And answered, "Yes," to all he said. 
 
 Awhile the lovers dwelt in peace. 
 Till from his vows one sought release, 
 
 130 
 
For fickle rose espied, one day, 
 A passion-flower across the way; 
 
 And looking on her petals blue, 
 
 Said to himself, "There's something new, — 
 
 " I fain would win that rare, bright flower, 
 To crown with grace my woodland bower." 
 
 Each day fair lil}^ looked more pale. 
 Trembled and sighed and grew more fraiL 
 
 But moss-rose acted well his part, 
 Nor heeded once her breaking heart. 
 
 A gentle daisy, without pride, 
 Became the slighted violet's bride. 
 
 And throughout all the vale around 
 Two happier flowers could not be found. 
 
 Rose to his passion-flower was wed. 
 And soon the lily fair was dead. 
 
 But happiness was not their lot, 
 The past refused to be forgot. 
 
 For rose remembered with regret 
 Fair lily's wondrous sweetness yet. 
 
 While passion-flower, with look forlorn. 
 Confessed, "Each rose conceals a thorn." 
 
 131 
 
ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 Oh, that my soul might reach the goal it longs for, 
 And view the glories of the land unseen, 
 
 Taste the pure waters of the cr3'stal river, 
 And wander ever mid those pastures green. 
 
 I 've vainly sought to find one deep, untainted 
 fountain. 
 
 At which my thirsty soul might freely drink ; 
 I find on earth none but oblivion's waters. 
 
 In those dark depths my withered hopes all sink. 
 
 I ever had a something unattained to long for, 
 A wished-for blessing after which to reach, 
 
 Toward which my weary spirit turneth ever. 
 
 As turns the restless wave toward the whitened 
 beach. 
 
 As the lone, weary wanderer, heartsick and be- 
 nighted. 
 Turns his sad eyes toward the northern star, 
 So turns my heart toward that land elysian. 
 
 Whose beams of hope and glory beckon from 
 afar. 
 
 I long to find on earth affection pure and holy, 
 As that which glows in seraph hearts above, 
 
 132 
 
Whose spotless souls wear the reflected glory 
 Of that Great Being whose first name is Love. 
 
 O Father ! Fill my thirsty soul with Thine own 
 spirit, 
 
 Bid all my weary longings evermore to cease ; 
 Soon may I see the heavenly dove descending, 
 
 Bringing unto my soul the olive branch of peace. 
 
 133 
 
GENEVEIVE. 
 
 Seaweed drifted on the shore, 
 Sea-gulls circling o'er and o'er, 
 Mad waves dashing up their spray. 
 All this wild November day. 
 
 Geneveive, why dost thou weep ? 
 Standing at the headland's feet, 
 Why that look of terror wild, 
 Like the look of frightened child ? 
 
 Doth the fear of coming ill, 
 All thy heart's warm pulses chill, 
 While the wild winds spread thine hair, 
 Like a banner on the air? 
 
 Cometh from the surging sea 
 Sounds of dying groans to thee ? 
 Seest thou a drifting wreck 
 With a cold form on its deck ? 
 
 Geneveive, upon the shore, 
 Weep and watch and wait no more. 
 Thou wilt ne'er with lover wed, 
 'Till the sea gives up its dead. 
 
 134 
 
A SHIP AT SEA. 
 
 I have a ship that sailed away 
 
 III the morning light of a summer's day; 
 
 I watched its form till it seemed to be 
 
 But a white bird dipping its wing in the sea. 
 
 With what was it laden ? With things most dear, 
 With treasures of hope, a smile, and a tear : 
 A tress of brown hair, a vow, and a ring, 
 With all the sweet things of which poets sing. 
 
 With a heart that was true, and a face that was fair, 
 By sorrow untouched, unfurrowed by care; 
 With a parting kiss that was borrowed from me 
 To light up the path o'er the treacherous sea. 
 
 How long since it went on its trackless way ? 
 On many a winter and summer day 
 The snow has fallen and grass has grown green, 
 While flowers have blossomed and withered be 
 tween. 
 
 Do I think it is lost in the covetous sea ? 
 
 On some day of days it will sail back to me. 
 
 Or my true-love will call, from the far-distant shore, 
 
 My spirit to his, when life's voyage is o'er. 
 
 '3> 
 
TO THOSE WHO CAN BEST UNDERSTAND 
 IT. 
 
 The world is a stage, the actors are hearts 
 
 That may smile though they break while performing 
 
 their parts ; 
 For faces may show no sign of the sin 
 Or burden of grief that is hidden within. 
 
 A palace may shelter a heart that is cold, 
 Longing ever to live in the love-light of old ; 
 Ever longing to listen to words left unsaid, 
 While watering with tears love's flowers that lie 
 dead. 
 
 The cage may be gilded without and within, 
 Yet to keep the bird pris'ner is no less a sin ; 
 For happier far would his free heart be 
 Were his nest on the bough of some evergreen tree. 
 
 Life loveless is not life, 't is only a state 
 
 Of dark, blank existence to which joy comes too 
 
 late ; 
 And the greatest of blessings to such life is given 
 When it slumbers on earth to waken in heaven. 
 
 136 
 
Oh, hearts that are weary for lack of the dew 
 Of affection that 's lasting and love that is true, 
 Lift your drooping heads heavenward, from thence 
 
 comes the rain 
 That shall cause them to freshen and blossom a^ain. 
 
 137 
 
A WHISPER OF GREEN. 
 
 There 's a whisper of green on the hillside, 
 
 Under the tall elm trees ; 
 And the days that are coming are brighter 
 
 And sunnier far than these. 
 
 There 's a song of a bird in the clear air, 
 While the brook babbles on past the mil 
 
 And somewhere the violets are budding, 
 Their promise to Spring to fulfil. 
 
 Down close to the side of the river, 
 
 The willows have hung out their bloom ; 
 
 That is soft as the softest velvet 
 
 That e'er came from the weaver's loom. 
 
 So I know that the winter is over, 
 
 And the glad, sweet springtime is nigh; 
 
 For the smiles and the tears of April 
 Lie up in the bright blue sky. 
 
 138 
 
TARRY WITH ME. 
 
 Tarry with me, day flies apace ; 
 I need Thy presence and Thy grace 
 To still the fears within my breast 
 And hush each troubled thought to rest. 
 
 Tarry with me. Through twilight dim 
 Help me to chant life's vesper hymn ; 
 I fain would hear Thy cheering voice, 
 Bidding my fainting heart rejoice. 
 
 Tarry with me. Life's troubled sea 
 Looks very dark and deep to me ; 
 I pray thee, Lord, with me abide 
 While I float down its ebbing tide. 
 
 Tarry with me. The shadows deep 
 Close round me while I pray and weep ; 
 I scarce can see hope's polar star 
 To guide me o'er the ocean bar. 
 
 Tarry with me. The night has come, 
 Lord, take the helm and guide me home 
 Safely across this swelling sea, 
 To evermore abide with Thee. 
 
 139 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 'T is autumn now, yet my regret 
 Blooms like an April violet, 
 
 And whispers of the dead ; 
 And memory points me to the mound 
 Where sweetly sleeps beneath the ground 
 
 One little curly head. 
 
 The night winds chant a low refrain, 
 And oft make mention of his name — 
 
 The name that 's ne'er forgot ; 
 And when the morning star grows dim 
 I wake from blissful dreams of him 
 
 To murmur at my lot. 
 
 He passed from earth one autumn day 
 And bore one half my heart away 
 
 Unto his home above ; 
 And now I watch and wait to see 
 The angel who shall carry me 
 
 Up to that land of love. 
 
 The spring will come to scatter flowers, 
 And songs of birds will haunt earth's bowers, 
 And Nature's face will smile : 
 
 140 
 
But if I 'm spared spring's days to see, 
 Those days will bring no joy to me, 
 My sorrow to beguile. 
 
 For while I list to hum of bee 
 Grief's cloud will overshadow me, 
 
 And my reft heart will weep ; 
 Then I shall long to go to him 
 Whom now I see by faith's eye dim, 
 
 Shall long for death's sweet sleep. 
 
 O Father ! to Thy home above — 
 That home of rest and deathless love, 
 
 My darling's heaven. 
 Oh, call me when I come to die. 
 To dwell with Thee and him on high, 
 
 And whisper, thou 'rt forgiven. 
 
 141 
 
MY YOUTHFUL HOPES. 
 
 They have sailed, a bright and beautiful band, 
 For the distant shore of an unknown land ; 
 And far away o'er a fathomless sea. 
 Their shadows dim are beckoning to me. 
 Alone I stand on this dreary strand, 
 Watching my hopes so far from the land ; 
 So far, that their shipmasts towering high 
 Seem touching the fleecy folds of sky. 
 
 I stretch my hand toward the billowy main, 
 And cry, bring back my dear hopes again ; 
 But the dancing waves in their reckless glee 
 Seem to laugh at my grief and mock at me ; 
 While the night winds are chanting a sad refrain, 
 And whispering, " Thy hopes will ne'er come again." 
 And the echoes that dwell on this desolate shore 
 Are repeating to me, " Nevermore, nevermore." 
 
 I am waiting now for the " Boatman pale," 
 
 I will hail with joy his silvery sail ; 
 
 For I know he will take my willing hand 
 
 And lead me away to that unknown land. 
 
 Oh, when I reach that distant shore, 
 
 I shall meet my hopes that have gone before ; 
 
 Then never again shall a tear dim mine eye. 
 
 There my hopes, like my heart, can never die. 
 
 142 
 
CONSOLATION. 
 
 Out of the shadow's deepest gloom 
 Love's sweetest violets oft will bloom ; 
 And when the heart seems most forlorn, 
 From bitterest tears new smiles are born. 
 
 Hands that are wearying day by day, 
 
 Clasping in vain their idols of clay, 
 
 Soon unto them long rest shall be given, 
 
 And for darkness on earth the daylight of heaven. 
 
 Though during the tempest the sunlight is gone, 
 The beautiful bow of the storm is born ; 
 So when our life the darkest doth seem. 
 Heaven lights up our path with a glorious beam. 
 
 Let us think when our heart joys have left us alone,. 
 
 That after the stars set then comes the sun ; 
 
 We will weep when we must, but smile while we 
 
 may. 
 And plant only flowers, not thorns, in our way. 
 
 And should the shadows grow black in their gloom. 
 
 Stretching on e'en to the door of the tomb ; 
 
 Yet may we trustingly cling to that hand 
 
 That is leading us on to the bright morning land. 
 
 143 
 
CANARY. 
 
 Canary bright, with golden wing, 
 Storms rage without, yet thou dost sing ; 
 A captive thou while I am free, 
 And dost thou seek to comfort me ? 
 
 A gilded cage is all thine own, 
 Yet wouldst thou not far rather roam, 
 And in the woodland sing thy lay 
 Upon some swinging, leafy spray ? 
 
 Still no complaint from thee doth come, 
 Dwelling within thy prison home ; 
 But ever some sweet, cheerful lay 
 To glorify the darkest day. 
 
 beauteous bird, with joyous heart. 
 To me of thine own joy impart; 
 
 That when life's days seem dark and long, 
 
 1 may look up with smile and song. 
 
 Sweet type of faith thou seemest to be, 
 
 Oh, may I learn to trust of thee ; 
 
 And though I walk through shades of gloom, 
 
 May hope's sweet flowers ne'er cease to bloom. 
 
 144 
 
Canary bright, with golden wing, 
 r dearly love to hear thee sing; 
 And may thy sinless life be long. 
 To gladden all who hear thy song 
 
 145 
 
THE PATH I WALKED IN CHILDHOOD. 
 
 In the path that I walked in childhood 
 
 My mind is wandering to-day; 
 I am picking the blue-eyed violets 
 
 And the daisies by the way. 
 The beautiful, golden buttercups 
 
 Stand glistening in the grass, 
 Smiling, and nodding a welcome, 
 
 Like old friends, as I pass. 
 
 The path lies down through the meadow 
 
 Where the yellow cowslips grow. 
 And their sweet, familiar faces 
 
 Seem like friends of long ago. 
 I have reached the little streamlet. 
 
 And crossed on the trunk of a tree ; 
 The rushes are thick on its border 
 
 As ever they used to be. 
 
 Now the path leads up through the woodland 
 Where berries lurk under green leaves ; 
 
 And the robin and bluebird are singing 
 In the top of the tall elm trees. 
 
 I have reached the stone clad in mosses, 
 That stands in the shadowy dell, 
 
 146 
 
Where I've oft sat listening to love tales 
 That birds to their mates will tell. 
 
 And down where the trees have parted, 
 
 The river flows on as of old ; 
 While the wonderful alchemist sunset 
 
 Is turning its waters to gold. 
 And they sparkle and gleam as they used to, 
 
 While we watched them, my friend and I, 
 Through the gold and purple sunsets 
 
 Of days long since gone by. 
 
 147 
 
WAITING. 
 
 The moon has arisen, my lover is late ; 
 
 I am waiting and watching alone at the gate. 
 
 O brook, cease your murmur, and cricket keep still> 
 
 And list for his coming from over the hill. 
 
 O zephyrs, be quiet, cease rustling the leaves ; 
 My lover yet tarries, my heart aches and grieves ; 
 The still stars are watching the flowers while they 
 
 sleep, 
 And the dewdrops are flashing like gems at my feet. 
 
 O nightingale, listen, your song is so shrill ; 
 
 The thought of his coming sends o'er me a thrill ; 
 
 heart, beat more calmly, be quiet, and wait, 
 
 1 know he is coming, although he is late. 
 
 The moon has arisen, my lover is near; 
 
 brook, you may murmur, for now he is here ; 
 Sweet nightingale, warble ; sing sweet to your 
 
 mate ; 
 
 1 am no longer waiting alone at the gate. 
 
 148 
 
THE MOTHER'S PRAYER. 
 
 'Twas evening when a mother fair 
 
 Knelt down beside her child, 
 And prayed to God, all merciful, 
 
 In accents strangely wild. 
 Her's was a widow's saddened home, 
 
 And penury dwelt there ; 
 While thin and thinner grew her cheek 
 
 By cankering grief and care. 
 
 Each day she toiled from morn till eve 
 
 To save her idol boy 
 From begging bread or starving want ; 
 
 He was her only joy. 
 But three short years had come and gone 
 
 Since Willie first had smiled. 
 And with his gentle, winning ways 
 
 His mother's grief beguiled. 
 ****** 
 'T was winter ; over nature's breast, 
 
 A pure white robe was thrown ; 
 The mother felt that very soon 
 
 That robe would be her own. 
 And now she prayed, so fervently 
 
 As only those can pray. 
 
 149 
 
Who feel that they are silenily 
 Passing from earth away : 
 
 "O Father ! art Thou calling me 
 
 To come to Thee on high ? 
 And must I leave my child behind ; 
 
 Oh, God ! Let him, too, die; 
 Thou knowest that on earth below 
 
 I am his only friend ; 
 Then who shall love or care for him, 
 
 When life with me shall end ? 
 
 "I know Thou hear'st the raven's cry. 
 
 And watchest well her nest ; 
 But will not he far safer be 
 
 In heaven upon thy breast ? 
 Oh ! bid, when Thou dost send for me, 
 
 The angel call my boy ; 
 Then will I clasp him in my arms 
 
 And come with rapturous joy." 
 
 'T was midnight, and the moon's pale rays 
 Silvered each vane and tower; 
 
 They glided through the broken panes 
 Of the sorrowful and poor. 
 
 150 
 
But they lingered long by one lone cot, 
 Where two lay calm and still, 
 
 For God had heard the " mother's prayer, 
 And granted all her will. 
 
 151 
 
RETROSPECTION. 
 
 We are sitting 'mid tlie shadows, 
 
 In the evening of our life ; 
 We are ahiiost done with labor, 
 
 And sorrow, too, dear wife. 
 We have journeyed long together 
 
 O'er a rough and thorny way, 
 But now we 're fast approaching 
 
 The deathless land of day. 
 
 Our hearts are filled with sadness 
 
 While memory reads the past 
 And shows us many a picture 
 
 Of joys too bright to last. 
 Of all the splendid castles 
 
 We 've built so high and fair. 
 Not even one is left us; — 
 
 All vanished in the air. 
 
 I am thinking now, my dear wife, 
 Of that sad and dreary day 
 
 When the eldest of our darlings 
 In the grave was laid away. 
 
 And also of another, 
 A day yet darker still, 
 
 152 
 
When our youngest pet was taken, 
 And we bowed before God's will. 
 
 Ah, well; we've had our trials 
 
 And troubles by the way, 
 But we must still remember 
 
 That after night comes day. 
 And when the morning breaketh 
 
 We shall meet our children seven, 
 Who are waiting now to greet us, 
 
 Close by the gate of heaven. 
 
 153 
 
BETTIE AND I. 
 
 We wandered the wild woods over, 
 
 Beautiful Bettie and I ; 
 Watching the bee sip the clover, 
 
 Watching the stream go by. 
 I gathered the modest vale lily 
 
 To twine 'mid her dark, shining hair ; 
 I thought, " The flower or the maiden, 
 
 I cannot tell which is most fair." 
 
 We sat upon earth's mossy carpet, 
 
 Her hand within mine closely pressed ; 
 While we gazed on the glorious sunset 
 
 That crimsoned the far-away west. 
 And I saw the bright sunset's reflection 
 
 Grow deeper on Bettie's fair cheek, 
 While her eyes told the eloquent answer 
 
 Her trembling lips dared not to speak. 
 
 We wander no more in the woodland. 
 
 Beautiful Bettie and I ; 
 Alas ! she has gone with the angels — 
 
 I hear but the lone wind's sigh. 
 
 154 
 
But I know that my loved one is waiting 
 For me on those far-distant strands; 
 
 And our hearts are forever united, 
 
 Though death rudely parted our hands. 
 
 155 
 
UNDER THE SNOW. 
 
 There are precious things hidden under the snow, 
 And home seems dark since we miss them so ; 
 Was there ever another form so fair 
 As the one we loved and buried there ? 
 Or the face so sweet with its eyes of blue, 
 And lips that smiled as the angels do ; 
 Bright bonny hair with its waves of gold, 
 Half of its beauty can never be told. 
 
 There 's a dear, kind heart lying under the snow. 
 How much we loved it the world does not know ; 
 We long for its tenderness ofttimes in vain. 
 As the sun-scorched earth thirsts for cooling rain. 
 There is nothing else that the world doth hold, 
 So dear to us still as the true heart of old, — 
 That we fain would fold in our loving embrace, 
 Dear Saviour in heaven, grant us Thy grace. 
 
 Say Thou to the waters of life's troubled sea. 
 " Peace, be still," as Thou said'st in sweet Galilee ; 
 Then a calm that is holy shall hush our soul's strife. 
 While the rainbow of hope shall illumine this life; 
 Till we see by its radiance the pathway to heaven, 
 
 156 
 
Through the dark clouds of grief Thy promise hath 
 
 riven. 
 Eternity reaps what time doth sow ; 
 Dear God, guard our loved ones under the snow. 
 
 157 
 
YOU REMEMBER. 
 
 You remember the starry-eyed daisies, 
 
 Tliat down in the grassy dell grew ; 
 And the beautiful golden cowslips, 
 
 Bejeweled with diamond dew; 
 And the old-fashioned pale blue violets 
 
 That hid underneath their green leaves. 
 While their tell-tale fragrance betrayed them 
 
 To the wanton, wandering breeze. 
 
 You remember the mossy hedges, 
 
 Where the wild roses blossomed each year. 
 While the sparrows built in their branches, 
 
 And brought up their young without fear. 
 And the brook that run through the meadow, 
 
 I am sure you can never forget ; 
 Its trout and your efforts to catch them. 
 
 Are fresh in my memory yet. 
 
 You remember the tall, speckled lilies 
 That grew by the edge of the wood, 
 
 How you harshly and wastefuUy plucked them 
 And said they were made for no good. 
 
 But you carefully fondled their sisters 
 Who grew in the green vale below, 
 
 158 
 
Swinging their bells in the sunshine, 
 Their fair faces all aglow. 
 
 You remember, I know you remember, 
 
 The cot at the foot of the hill, 
 Its vine-covered porch and its roses. 
 
 And the sound of the noisy mill. 
 And the peal, on a Sabbath morning, 
 
 Of the distant village bell. 
 And our walk to church through the woodland 
 
 You must remember it well. 
 
 You remember the dear old past, love. 
 
 Yet how very strange it doth seem 
 To think of those bright, happy days now, 
 
 And the years that have rolled between. 
 But 't is sweet to think of the old life, 
 
 And it ever seemeth to me 
 Like a faint foretaste of that future 
 
 That shall be from all sorrow free. 
 
 159 
 
COULD WE BUT KNOW. 
 
 Could we but know the sun would shine to-morrow. 
 We would not mind the storm-clouds of to-day, 
 
 And half the trouble that our sad souls borrow 
 Would spread its raven wings and tiee away. 
 
 Could we but know that kind words we have spoken 
 Have fell like dew upon some thirsty sod, 
 
 Far oftener would some cheerful, loving token 
 Point from earth's dreary wastes the way to God. 
 
 Could we but know the load of shame and sorrow 
 That presses heavy on the sin-stained breast, 
 
 We would not idly dream away to-morrow, 
 But rise and lead the erring one toward rest. 
 
 Could we but know that those who cross the river 
 Wait for our coming on the other shore, 
 
 We would not weep when earthly love ties sever, 
 But wait with patience till life's voyage is o'er. 
 
 Could we but hear our loving Father calling 
 His burdened children up to rest and peace, 
 
 Like a low benediction on our spirits falling, 
 Would be his summons bringing sweet release. 
 
 1 60 
 
THRENODY. 
 
 The red sun has sunk in the sea, 
 The wind is mournfully sighing; 
 
 My heart beats sadly. Ah, me ! 
 
 On the hearth the embers are dying. 
 
 There 's a withered rose in my hand ; 
 
 Long ago it was full of sweetness, 
 For it grew in a sunny land. 
 
 And dreamed not of summer's briefness. 
 
 Now it tells of a joy so sweet 
 
 That it banished all thought of sorrow ; 
 Could the past and the future meet 
 
 The dead rose would bloom on the morrow 
 
 The wraiih of a buried hope 
 
 From its dark, cold bed has arisen, 
 
 And my heart in its narrow scope 
 
 Beats its bars as a bird beats its prison. 
 
 Oh, hopes that have long lain dead ; 
 
 Why have you arisen unbidden ? 
 My soul is to sorrow wed, 
 
 I need not your awful chrism. 
 
 i6i 
 
DEAR WEARY HANDS. 
 
 Dear weary hands, now fold them to rest, 
 Tenderly lay them upon the cold breast ; 
 Their labors of love are faithfully done, 
 They have finished their work beneath the sun. 
 
 Dear quiet hands, clasping violets sweet 
 As the incense of old on the mercy seat. 
 Or the pure breath of prayers that have risen to 
 
 heaven 
 From hearts that were pleading to be forgiven. 
 
 Dear loving hands, on my aching brow 
 
 They have oft been laid ; oh, I need them now 
 
 To quiet the burning, withering pain 
 
 That is breaking my heart and crazing my brain. 
 
 Dear helping hands, they have smoothed life's rough 
 
 way, 
 Planting flowers to gladden me day by day, 
 Lifting earth's crosses from under my feet. 
 Making life's journey pleasant and sweet. 
 
 162 
 
Dear mother's hands, on the beautiful shore 
 
 They will welcome me home when this brief life is 
 
 o'er; 
 Folded once more in their tender embrace, 
 I will give thanks to God for his infinite grace. 
 
 163 
 
BLIND. 
 
 They tell me the roses are blooming. 
 That green is the myrtle and thyme ; 
 
 While the lilies their bells are swinging 
 With the soft winds keeping time. 
 
 They bring me a bunch of violets, 
 And tell me their eyes are blue ; 
 
 I perceive their wonderful fragrance, 
 But I see not their eyes' bright hue. 
 
 They bid me list to the oriole. 
 
 While he builds in the old elm tree: 
 
 I hear all his sweet, soulful music, 
 But his form I never can see. 
 
 They tell me the bright sun is shining ; 
 
 It is darkest midnight to me ; 
 When I 've crossed the valley of shadow 
 
 The Father may bid me see. 
 
 If so, shall I know my kindred, 
 
 Whose voices have cheered me here .' 
 
 Their faces to me are all strangers, 
 But their presence is very dear. 
 
 164 
 
I know not, but I will trust Him 
 Whose word made the blind to see. 
 
 And I hope at last to behold Him, 
 
 When my soul from this earth-life is free. 
 
 165 
 
DEATH OF SUMMER. 
 
 Summer, thou art dying ! 
 
 1 know it by the wind's sad sighing. 
 
 The birds have ceased the morning songs 
 They sang when you and they were young. 
 While now and then a withered leaf 
 Comes softly down to tell its grief. 
 The rose has laid aside its bloom 
 Within the shadow of thy tomb. 
 The crickets sing their solemn tune, 
 That ne'er was heard in leafy June. 
 Each breeze seems laden with a sigh 
 That says sweet Summer's death is nigh. 
 
 O Summer, thou art dying ! 
 How swiftly now the days are flying. 
 Why should thou leave us waiting here, 
 Weeping beside thine ivied bier.'' 
 Far better would it seem to be 
 Could we but be exhaled with thee, 
 And leave upon the scroll of time 
 A record true and fair as thine. 
 For human life at best is brief; 
 We fade and wither like the leaf. 
 O summer, may our earth life be 
 Peaceful and bright and fair like thee ! 
 
 1 66 
 
so NEAR TO THEE. 
 
 So near to Thee ! 'T is but a veil that parts us, 
 A veil a breath might rend and let us in ; 
 
 And yet we dwell so very far asunder, 
 
 How can we cross the gulf that lies between ? 
 
 So near to Thee ! We almost catch the echo 
 Of voices chanting some celestial hymn ; 
 
 We long in vain to sweep away the shadows 
 That cloud our way, and shut Thy glory in. 
 
 So near to Thee ! Once when the veil was lifted 
 To let death's angel bear our loved one in, 
 
 We wept and watched, with every nerve a tremble. 
 Eager to follow and escape from sin. 
 
 So near to Thee ! Thou blessed, loving Saviour ; 
 
 O lift the veil that hides Thee from our sight ; 
 Reach down, dear Lord, in pity and forgiveness. 
 
 And raise us out of darkness into light. 
 
 167 
 
GLORIOUS MORNING. 
 
 Through the glorious gates of morning, 
 
 That night has left ajar, 
 I hear day's distant footsteps 
 
 Swiftly coming from afar. 
 
 One lonely star is shining 
 
 Yet brightly in the west, 
 But Night, ere her departure. 
 
 Closed the eyelids of the rest. 
 
 I hear the lark's loud singing, 
 As he soars to greet the sun, 
 
 And his song sounds like a triumph 
 Over some victory won. 
 
 Last night there was a baptism 
 Strewn o'er each sleeping flower, 
 
 xAnd a shower of glittering diamonds 
 Fell down on every bower. 
 
 Down in the low, green valleys 
 Night has left her veil of mist. 
 
 Lest her trembling, sweet, pale lilies 
 Should by the sun be kissed. 
 
 1 68 
 
Nature's ten thousand voices 
 Join in one grateful song 
 
 To Him who beckons night away, 
 And sends to earth bright morn. 
 
 169 
 
THE WIND. 
 
 And it came rushing on, the mighty wind ! 
 Waking each sleeping flower, swinging each 
 Leaflet, then wiping the pearly tear from 
 Every grass-blade ; troubling the streamlet till 
 Its once placid waves dashed furiously ! 
 Now up in the blue ether chasing the 
 Silver cloudlet, then down again playing 
 "Hide-and-seek" through the tall tree boughs. 
 
 On, on 
 It came ; curling the smoke from the chimneys. 
 Rapping on the window-panes ; then rocking 
 The cradle of the birdling, chanting a loud 
 Lullaby as it swept along. Then off 
 Again to the forests, moaning, groaning. 
 And sighing through the evergreens, as if 
 Dame Nature herself was heart-broken, and 
 Boreas must chant her funeral song ! 
 Now back it came ; and into the churchyard 
 It went, wailing through the willows, then up 
 To the church spire, playing with the vane. 
 
 Down 
 Again, dancing on the hilltop, skipping 
 Through the valleys, romping from meadow to 
 
 170 
 
Meadow, like some wild schoolboy from irksome 
 
 Discipline unbound. On, on ! until quite 
 
 Elxhausted it crept into a lonely 
 
 Mountain cave, and died away, breathing its 
 
 Last so gently that even the sleepless 
 
 Echoes heard not its dying moan. 
 
 171 
 
CHARITY. 
 
 Chi da presto laddoppia il dono. 
 
 He that gives quickly doubles the gift. 
 
 — Italian Proverb. 
 
 An angel came to earth one day 
 (So doth an ancient legend say), 
 And folding down her wings of light, 
 She gathered up her robes of white. 
 And walked among the sons of men 
 Meekly, and unobserved by them. 
 
 She stepped within a poor man's door, 
 And scattered blessings on the floor; 
 Then passing out into the street, 
 A ragged waif she chanced to meet ; 
 Stooping, she whispered, " Poor child ! come, 
 I '11 guide thee to a happy home." 
 
 She entered next a widow's cot. 
 Who oft bewailed her toilsome lot ; 
 And with kind words of hope and cheer 
 She hushed each discontent and fear. 
 'J'hen read from out the Holy Word, 
 " Cast all thy burden on the Lord." 
 
 172 
 
She to a house of mourning went, 
 
 Upon some heavenly errand sent, 
 
 And kneeling by the ebon bier. 
 
 She said, " God's peace be with you here ; 
 
 Blessed are they that mourn and weep ; 
 
 He giveth his beloved sleep." 
 
 Once, in a lone, deserted street 
 
 A maiden fair she chanced to meet, 
 
 She kissed the stranger's tear-stained face, 
 
 Saying, " God give to thee his grace, 
 
 Comfort thy heart and come with me, 
 
 There is a place prepared for thee." 
 
 At last she reached a shelt'ring home. 
 To which all friendless ones may come. 
 And kneeling in the twilight there, 
 She offered up a thankful prayer : 
 "And here among the sons of men 
 I 've found a home, dear Lord. Amen." 
 
 She sitteth now, forevermore, 
 
 Within that hospitable door ; 
 
 With heavenly smile and outstretched hand 
 
 She beckons in her stranger band, 
 
 And grateful prayers ascend to heaven. 
 
 Since Charity to earth was given. 
 
 173 
 
WITHERED FLOWERS. 
 
 'T is autumn now, and the fair rose has faded, 
 And cold winds rudely mock the withered leaf ; 
 
 The violet's eye by folded lash lies shaded, 
 While loving wild bees mourn its life so brief. 
 
 In waxen shroud is laid the lily's sweetness, 
 The lilac tree has hid its wealth of bloom ; 
 
 While faded pinks express the summer's briefness. 
 And empty birds' nests look like vacant homes. 
 
 The gentle daisies long since ceased to blossom, 
 Shrinking with fear beneath their friendly leaves ; 
 
 The gladiolus' sword lies sheathed and conquered. 
 While the proud passion-flower all sadly grieves. 
 
 Yet 'mid the withered leaves and sodden grasses. 
 The purple aster proudly wears its crown, 
 
 Whilebright-eyed pansies show their velvet faces. 
 And shed their cheering perfume all around. 
 
 But soon these, too, will meekly fold their petals. 
 And close their eyes before the north wind's 
 breath ; 
 
 Yet they shall wake and smile again in springtime, 
 And sweetly tell us that there is no death. 
 
 174 
 
AN ANSWERED PRAYER. 
 
 Christmas eve had come at last, 
 Snow was falling thick and fast ; 
 In an attic dark and cold 
 Lay a woman, sick and old. 
 
 Lying on a bed of straw 
 Visions of her youth she saw, 
 And a prayer she feebly said, 
 Lying on that lowly bed. 
 
 " Father ; I feel that death is near. 
 Yet I can die without a fear; 
 Since Jesus died for such as me, 
 From sin's deep curse I now am free. 
 
 " But one great boon from Thee I crave- 
 Ere I am laid within my grave ; 
 It is that I once more might see 
 The long-lost son Thou gavest me. 
 
 " Ten weary years have rolled away 
 Since that sad, ne'er forgotten day, 
 When Frederick said farewell to me 
 And sailed away across the sea. 
 
 175 
 
"Oh ! must my life end here alone, 
 
 With none to hear my dying groan ? 
 
 Could I but see my boy again 
 
 'T would ease this hard, heart-breaking pain. 
 
 "Yet if 'tis not Thy holy will, 
 Bid my complaining heart be still. 
 And help my yearning soul to say. 
 Thy will, not mine, be done to-day." 
 
 The mother's pleading prayer was done. 
 She knew not if her wish was won, 
 But calmly in the silence there, 
 Waited God's answer to her prayer. 
 
 But on this snow-clad Christmas day 
 
 A ship had sailed into the bay. 
 
 Bringing the mother's only son 
 
 Toward her who prayed that he might come. 
 
 She did not hear upon the stair 
 The step of one ascending there ; 
 But soon a knock upon the door. 
 And then a step upon the floor. 
 
 " Mother ! " a voice said at her side, 
 " My son ! my son ! " the mother cried ; 
 
 176 
 
And then from out the evening gloom, 
 A grateful prayer rose from that room. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Another year has rolled away, 
 Bringing again glad Christmas day; 
 Within a cheery, love-lit home 
 Now live the mother and her son. 
 
 177 
 
HARVEST HOME. 
 
 They have gathered the wheat and barley, 
 i\nd brought home the golden corn ; 
 
 The yellow squashes and pumpkins 
 Lie out in the crowded barn. 
 
 Now they are picking the juicy apples, 
 The "baldwins" and "russets" brown, 
 
 The "nonesuch" and fair "blue pearmains" 
 (We own the best orchard in town). 
 
 The grapes shed their grateful odor 
 
 While they purple out in the sun, 
 And the late pears change their color, 
 
 As they soften one by one. 
 
 The boys have searched for the " hazels " 
 
 In all the forest around, 
 And they bring home the sweet, brown chestnuts 
 
 As soon as they fall to the ground. 
 
 There are heaps and heaps of " shag barks " 
 
 Lying upon the attic floor, 
 And bushels of great, black butternuts 
 
 Are drying behind the door. 
 
 178 
 
Oh, of all the beautiful seasons 
 Glad harvest time is the best, 
 
 For it gives us the finished fruitage 
 That's begun by all the rest. 
 
 And 'tis pleasant to sit at evening, 
 When the day's hard toil is done. 
 
 And think of the bountiful harvest 
 That we 've thankfully gathered home. 
 
 179 
 
NOVEMBER. 
 
 The sad, sighing winds of November 
 
 Are piling dead leaves at my feet, 
 As they hurry on toward the valley, 
 
 Where the winds and the waters meet. 
 The birds have whispered their farewells 
 
 And have flown to a sunnier clime, 
 While their nests, like houses deserted. 
 
 Are all they have left behind. 
 
 We miss the chirp of the cricket. 
 
 And the hum of the busy bee, 
 While the meadow brook sadly murmurs 
 
 Where it once sang glad and free. 
 The dead flowers now lie waiting 
 
 To be wrapt in the winding sheet 
 Of snow that will soon enfold them 
 
 And bury them under our feet. 
 
 But a voice unto me seems to whisper, 
 
 "The springtime will soon come again," 
 And bring back to earth her green garments. 
 
 Warm sunshine and soft falling rain, 
 She will bring back the brook's lost music, 
 
 And the birds with their merry lays, 
 And the flowers with all the fragrance 
 
 That perfumes the long summer d;iys. 
 
 I So 
 
She will cover the naked tree boughs 
 
 In fair robes of beautiful green, 
 And send gentle zephyrs to kiss them, 
 
 And dance in their glittering sheen. 
 So let us be patient and hopeful, 
 
 Nor mourn for the dying year, 
 For Spring with all her sweetness 
 
 Will certainly soon be here. 
 
SNOWFLAKES. 
 
 Snow! Snow! flakes of snow! 
 Whirling about, how fast ye go ! 
 Hither and thither over the street, 
 Kissing the lips of all whom ye meet. 
 
 Lightly ye rest on the beautiful brow 
 Of frolicsome children, innocent now; 
 Softly touching the maiden's fair cheek, 
 Blushing the love that she dare not speak. 
 
 Gently ye rest on the white brow of youth. 
 Fearing to sully that signet of truth ; 
 Tenderly kissing the pale brow of care 
 To lighten the sorrow that 's resting there. 
 
 Dropping a tear on the forehead of sin 
 
 To wash out the stain of guilt that's within ; 
 
 Spreading thy purity over earth's breast, 
 
 A shroud for the ashes of those now at rest . 
 
 'Neath thy kind charity seeking to hide 
 All of the errors of those who have died. 
 Yet what return doth thy kindness meet ? 
 Nortals but trample thee under their feet. 
 
Beautiful snowflakes ! Ye seem unto me 
 Emblems of that which I ought to be ; 
 Though here my virtues may reap no reward, 
 They will gain me at last a smile from my God. 
 
 183 
 
. CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 I am thinking of that first Christmas eve on the plains of 
 Judea ; of the wonder of the shepherds, as they listened to the 
 proclamation of the angels, that hallelujah chorus echoing 
 through heaven and earth like a God-given benediction closing 
 with a divine amen. And to-night I seem to hear the rustle of 
 angel wings, and their song proclaiming "Peace on earth, 
 good will toward men." 
 
 Peace on earth the angels sing, 
 Bowing low with folded wing; 
 
 Listen all ye sons of men, 
 Christ is born in Bethlehem. 
 
 Sweetest incense let us bring 
 To offer to the new-born King. 
 
 Let all men who rule to-night . 
 
 Rule by love and not by might. 
 Let good will toward all abound 
 
 Everywhere the world around ; 
 Then can angels come again, 
 
 Bringing God's divine amen. 
 
 Let sweet peace within each breast 
 Hush discordant notes to rest; 
 
 Let every thought of strife be stilled, 
 And every heart with love be filled. 
 
 While thoughts of God's great gift to men 
 Shall lead souls back to Bethlehem. 
 
 184 
 
THE PASSING OF THE YEAR. 
 
 Hear you the sighing and the crying 
 
 Of the old, old year? 
 He is passing, he is dying, 
 
 Without doubt and without fear. 
 
 But he mourns the withered roses 
 And autumn's faded flowers; 
 
 On dead leaves his head reposes, 
 While slowly pass the hours. 
 
 He is thinking of the music 
 Of the song-birds' early hymn. 
 
 When their softest, sweetest matins 
 Were only sung for him. 
 
 And of how the bright, glad sunbeams 
 Danced round him in their glee. 
 
 While the sparkling diamond dewdrops, 
 Shone on each hill and lea. 
 
 He is thinking of the treasures 
 He possessed when he was young, 
 
 Of the joys and hopes and pleasures 
 That have left him one by one. 
 
 185 
 
Of the great world he is leaving, 
 And of breaking hearts within it. 
 
 Of days now past recalling, 
 
 And wasted hours and minutes. 
 
 Ah ! his heart is sorely grieving; 
 
 Do you not hear him moan ? 
 He is slowly, surely passing 
 
 Into the great unknown. 
 
 1 86 
 
GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 'T is vesper time ; and flowers with folded petals 
 
 Seem worshiping the Great Supreme ; 
 With heads bowed low, birds hush their soulful 
 music, 
 And wait the morn with folded wing. 
 Good-night. 
 
 Hush ! hear the murmur of the restless waters, 
 They miss the sun's glad, warm embrace ; 
 
 Their voices sound like hearts complaining 
 The absence of some cherished face. 
 Good-night. 
 
 The evening star keeps calm and silent vigil 
 O'er many a loved one's new-made grave ; 
 
 While ocean waves, cold and white-crested. 
 Lock up their dead within their hidden caves. 
 Good-night. 
 
 A last good-night until the morning 
 
 Shall break that brings eternal day ; 
 Then may we fold away our tear-stained raiment, 
 
 And clothed in white walk up the shining way. 
 
 187 
 
JAM iQ "^^^^