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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 -Z^^J 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bundleoftwigsOOcumm 
 
HESTER \J. GUMMINS. 
 
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 ]={ 
 
 BI3NPW OF 5Wi®s 
 
 BY 
 
 HESTER V. CUMMINS 
 
 LA POUTE CITY. I A. 
 
 FIllST EDITIOX. 
 
 A'lNTOX. IOWA. 
 
 ■Ill i: TKLKIiKAlMJ Klis' ITU. 
 
 lS!i:;. 
 
 "I'^s* 
 
7^ 
 
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COPYRIGHTED OCT. 1893 
 
 — BY — 
 
 HESTER V. CUMMINS. 
 
INOEX. 
 
 A Bit of Autumn 251 
 
 A Breath of Spring 171 
 
 Absent Ones 107 
 
 Absent Yet Near ! 212 
 
 A Call from Death 128 
 
 A Careless Word 245 
 
 A Child's Thought 141 
 
 A Complaint 161 
 
 A Cross Birdie 233 
 
 After the Sunshine 83 
 
 After School 63 
 
 Afterglow 19 
 
 After the Rain 267 
 
 Afterward 268 
 
 Again 61 
 
 A Gift 27 
 
 A Gift of Love 66 
 
 A Glad New Song 108 
 
 A Greeting 187 
 
 A Late Spring 196 
 
 A Lost Rosebud 138 
 
 Altruism 189 
 
 Always Winter 211 
 
 Ambition 125 
 
 A Medley 34 
 
 A Message of Love 181 
 
 A Message 122 
 
 A Monotone 248 
 
 An Autumn Day 215 
 
 An Early Blossom 250 
 
 A Picture 117 
 
 A Poem 262 
 
 Appreciation 106 
 
 A Promised Rhyme 173 
 
 A Rainy Morning 65 
 
 A Reverie 258 
 
 A Reproof 203 
 
 A Rhyme 73 
 
 A Sabbath Day 98 
 
 Asleep 44 
 
 A Sonnet 41 
 
 A Soliloquy 58 
 
 A Storm 149 
 
 A Summer Song 97 
 
 At Evening 183 
 
 A Thought in Autumn 57 
 
 At Noontime 137 
 
 At Twenty-five 115 
 
 Aubrey Yere 33 
 
 A Visit from the Fairies 103 
 
 A Violet's Song 118 
 
 A Wedding Wish 227 
 
 Barriers 231 
 
 Belated Spring 68 
 
 Be True 91 
 
 Bitter Sweet 202 
 
 Blindness Ill 
 
 Building 69 
 
 By the Stream 126 
 
 Calling to You 74 
 
 Cared For 119 
 
 Carving 75 
 
 Careless Fingers 192 
 
 Changed 299 
 
 Coming and Going 298 
 
 Come and Play 78 
 
 Content Ill 
 
 Contentment 200 
 
 Crossing the Bridge 139 
 
 Crushed Violets ' 53 
 
 Dearer Than All 150 
 
 Dolly in the Hammock 14 
 
 Don't Do It 301 
 
 Don't Fret Over Other Folks' 
 
 Ills 11 
 
 Don't Worry 41 
 
 Drifting 290 
 
 Easter Day 271 
 
 Evening Prayer 42 
 
 Expectation 229 
 
 Fairies 13 
 
 Fame 28 
 
 Floy 279 
 
 Forget Me Not 30 
 
 Getting Acquainted 178 
 
 Glad Hearted 38 
 
 God Knew it Would be So 241 
 
 Going Home From Church 29 
 
 Golden Sunbeams on the Wall . . 32 
 
 Goodbye 127 
 
 Goodbye Old Book 67 
 
 Goodnight but not Goodbye .... 64 
 
 Grandmother's Birthday 70 
 
 Grandma's Grave 169 
 
 Growing Old 113 
 
 Home at Last 21 
 
 Home Agam 100 
 
 Hope 47 
 
 Hope is not Dead 64 
 
 How Can We Come 237 
 
 I am With You in My Dreams . 188 
 
 I Am Glad We Cannot See 105 
 
 I am Poor 236 
 
 Idleness 176 
 
 If 289 
 
 If I Had Known 56 
 
I Have Given up My Dreams . . . 141 
 
 I know It Isn't So 204 
 
 Imperfection 29 
 
 In Aftertimes 153 
 
 In Borderland 73 
 
 Inevitable 222 
 
 In June 239 
 
 In Other Days 251 
 
 In the Way 60 
 
 In the Twiliglit 146 
 
 In Vain 223 
 
 Is it Nothing to You 28*7 
 
 I've Done What He Commanded 243 
 I Would Just as Soon Die as 
 Not 283 
 
 Janie 36 
 
 June 145 
 
 Just For Fun 182 
 
 Keep Alive in the Hearts of 
 
 Your Friends 22 
 
 Keep Nothing Bade 43 
 
 Keep in Line 157 
 
 Keep Me Near Thee 165 
 
 Last Night 90 
 
 Late Roses 282 
 
 Let the World Move On. 197 
 
 Life is Short 99 
 
 Lines on Receiving a Valentine 207 
 
 Lines : 197 
 
 Listening to the Rain 140 
 
 Little Worries 174 
 
 Little Golden Hair 76 
 
 Look Up 252 
 
 Looking Beyond 236 
 
 Loss and Gain 269 
 
 Lost 253 
 
 Love Me For What I Am 296 
 
 Love Me and Tell Me So Some- 
 times 302 
 
 Maytime 55 
 
 Married 247 
 
 McGill and McGee 208 
 
 Meditation 174 
 
 Mother's Birthday 39 
 
 Musing 216 
 
 My Friend and 1 134 
 
 My Lover 110 
 
 My Heart is With Her Still .... 260 
 
 My Old Sweetheart 133 
 
 My Old Friend Jim 221 
 
 My Sheaves 247 
 
 My Treasures 151 
 
 Never Again 133 
 
 No Letter .• 24 
 
 Not Satisfied 226 
 
 Not Alone 118 
 
 Nothing Like Work 306 
 
 O'er Distant Hills 15 
 
 Old Smut 219 
 
 Old Times.. 93 
 
 On Both Sides 'of the Door 159 
 
 Only a Little Way 21 
 
 Only a Bunch of Flowers 79 
 
 Only a Year 189 
 
 Only a Child 152 
 
 Our Grandma 128 
 
 Our Boys 293 
 
 Out of the Night 115 
 
 Out of the World 31 
 
 Over the River 201 
 
 O, You are All the World to Me 234 
 
 Pansies 120 
 
 Pining 184 
 
 Playtime 163 
 
 Pleading 276 
 
 Plum Blossoms 199 
 
 Prayer 198 
 
 Pretty Pet 304 
 
 Pussy's Lesson 217 
 
 Questioning 143 
 
 Quietude 95 
 
 Rain Drops 218 
 
 Recompense 102 
 
 Remembered 123 
 
 Requited 164 
 
 Rest at Last 166 
 
 Retribution 186 
 
 Retaliation 284 
 
 Robin Red Breast 51 
 
 Rock of Ages 157 
 
 Round Rolls the Ball 239 
 
 Sabbath Dawn 147 
 
 Seen from the Other Side 286 
 
 Separated 246 
 
 Shade or Sun 59 
 
 Sighing or Singing 130 
 
 Silent Chords 120 
 
 Since Janie Died 274 
 
 Sing to Me 170 
 
 Sing 244 
 
 Sometime 15 
 
 Somebody Tells It 35 
 
 Some Day 112 
 
 Somebody was Glad 192 
 
 Strangers Yet 210 
 
 Summer Bloom 9 
 
 Summer 301 
 
 Sweet Lilacs 297 
 
 Sympathy 94 
 
Thank God for the Children .... 12 
 
 Thankfulness 250 
 
 The Way of all Earth 11 
 
 The Setting Sun 18 
 
 The Future 20 
 
 The Time is Long 37 
 
 The Song of the Kain 37 
 
 The Land Where Our Dreams 
 
 Come True 52 
 
 The Same Old Story 83 
 
 The Model Fisherman 233 
 
 The Farmer 235 
 
 The Last Day of School 264 
 
 The World is White Again .... 230 
 
 The Same 170 
 
 The Turkey 195 
 
 The Last Stamp 212 
 
 The Timid Bee 180 
 
 The Summer Sun 142 
 
 The Same Old Song. 136 
 
 The Old Year and the New .... 288 
 
 The Tide 305 
 
 The Wind 156 
 
 There are Brighter Days 
 
 Beyond 158 
 
 They Shall Gather the Eoses ... 45 
 
 Think of Me 214 
 
 Three Leafed Clover 48 
 
 Time Basses on 185 
 
 Tired 257 
 
 'Tisbuta Day 108 
 
 To a Christian Friend 47 
 
 To a Bet Horse 277 
 
 To Carrie F. Wheeler 132 
 
 To Guy 297 
 
 Together 144 
 
 Tokens of Spring 205 
 
 To My Love 286 
 
 Tommy's Opinion 294 
 
 Tomorrow 16 
 
 To My Scholars 25 
 
 Tommy Riddle 243 
 
 "Tre Le, Tre Le" 240 
 
 Treasures 255 
 
 Trusting 89 
 
 Turn on the Sunlight 147 
 
 Unanswered 49 
 
 Unforgotten 131 
 
 Unfinished Still 167 
 
 Unrequited 125 
 
 Vacation ; 55 
 
 Violets 103 
 
 Wake Up 95 
 
 Weaving 82 
 
 We Let the Days Go By 263 
 
 We Must Fight Our Own 
 
 Battles 54 
 
 We Shall All Come Back Again 224 
 
 We Shall Meet 130 
 
 What Shall the End Be 71 
 
 What He Likes 231 
 
 When Roses Bloomed 271 
 
 When the Day is Over 278 
 
 When I Grow Old 303 
 
 Why 17 
 
 Which Way is Best 80 
 
 Who Won the Day 227 
 
 Wine is a Mocker 26 
 
 Winter 97 
 
 With the Tide 206 
 
 Words 241 
 
 Years after 292 
 
 You Wouldn't If You Loved Me 275 
 
 You Will Not Be Forsaken 200 
 
 You and I 177 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 SUMMER BLOOM. 
 
 O THB boughs were heavy laden 
 With their wealth of summer snow, 
 
 And the winds, with faintest sighing-. 
 Sway the branches to and fro. 
 
 Bringing to our charmed senses 
 Dainty breath and touch sublime, 
 
 Of this bit of Heaven about us, 
 Beautiful, cheery, blossom time. 
 
 How it thrills our hearts with gladness. 
 How it drives dull care away, 
 
 Taking us in dream and fancy, 
 To life's sweetest brightest w^ay. 
 
 As I write I see you standing 
 
 'Neath the gnarled old branches tall, 
 
 With their fair sweet scented blossoms, 
 You — the fairest of them all. 
 
10 A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Soon the wind in playful frolic, 
 
 Wafts the loose leaves o'er your head, 
 
 Making- many a mimic shower. 
 As the trees their blossoms shed. 
 
 For they, too, have had their mission, 
 Warning- care-worn hearts, at times, 
 
 Into blissful paths of memory. 
 Hearing- sweetest music chimes. 
 
 So I love these summer flowers, 
 Frag-rant blooming- that shall tell 
 
 Many an oft' repeated story. 
 
 Where there hidden spirits dwell. 
 
 We w^ill cherish, ever fondly. 
 
 All the g-ood and peace they bring-. 
 
 That shall chain our restless footsteps 
 From their love of wandering". 
 
 As I read your loving- letter, 
 
 These thoug-hts flitted throug-h my brain. 
 And I think that life is better. 
 
 And our striving not in vain. 
 
 If we list in song- and story. 
 
 To these harbingers of good, 
 That bring hopeful cheering promise. 
 
 We might cherish if we would. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 11 
 
 DON'T FRET OVER OTHER FOLKS ILLS. 
 
 TakB care of the minutes and hours, 
 
 The days swiftly pass on the wing-, 
 
 And you have scarce time, as you journey, 
 
 To pause for murmuring-. 
 
 The spring- with its verdure soon passes 
 
 To summer's golden glow, 
 
 And autumn's brilliant colors 
 
 Are followed by frost and snow. 
 
 Don't look for petty failures. 
 
 In the lives of other men. 
 
 But do your own duty bravely, 
 
 Over and over again. 
 
 Don't worry because your neighbor, 
 
 Leaves some of his work undone, 
 
 You have business enough to keep you 
 
 Working from sun to sun. 
 
 If not, lend a hand to your neighbor. 
 
 Give him aid with hopeful cheer. 
 
 But don't cloud your own good nature. 
 
 With a weight of needless fear. 
 
 The Ivord is all-wise and gracious, 
 
 And heeds the slightest call. 
 
 And though we forget to trust Him, 
 
 Kindly watches over us all. 
 
 THE WAY OF ALL EARTH. 
 
 The tide is changing and the ebb and flow 
 Changes our lives without our voice or will. 
 
 Though we would have but peace and joy alway, 
 The shadow^ and the storm are with us still. 
 
12 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 f 
 
 The years are chang-ing- and do hearts change not? 
 
 Do tender thoughts at all times have full sway? 
 Or do the darker moments bring harsh tones, 
 
 And lovelight fade in reason's clearer way? 
 
 The flowers are fading and the withered leaves 
 Fall silently where careless footsteps tread. 
 
 We cannot keep their beauty or their bloom; 
 
 They, like fond hopes are withered, cold and dead. 
 
 The years are passing, but we grudge them not 
 The few fresh joys that greet our lives today. 
 
 There's change in all around us as we go. 
 We heed it not as seasons pass away. 
 
 THANK GOD FOR THE CHILDREN. 
 
 Thank God for the little children. 
 With their smiles and voices sweet, 
 
 And their innocent ways of goodness. 
 Wherever we chance to meet. 
 
 Thank God for their helpful presence, 
 And their sunshine day by day, 
 
 Karth were too drear to live in 
 If they were taken away. 
 
 At times, too, they are helpless. 
 And we need to strengthen them; 
 
 But we receive a double gift 
 For the deeds we do for them. 
 
 What comfort and consolation 
 In the touch of a little hand. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 13 
 
 Caressing- our faces in silence; 
 Who says they don't understand ? 
 
 Ah! there is a deeper meaning- 
 
 In their actions than we know; 
 They are g-uide-lig-hts sent by the ang-els 
 
 To cheer us as we go. 
 
 When we are sad and despairing-, 
 
 Our hopes and pleasures gone, 
 If we hear a baby prattling 
 
 We smile and journey on. 
 
 So, I say thank God for the children, 
 
 These harbingers of good, 
 Who would gladly share our burdens 
 
 Of sorrow, if they could. 
 
 Yes, thank Him ever and often; 
 
 In the hurry do not forget 
 That He blesses us in His giving — 
 
 The children are with us yet. 
 
 FAIRIES. 
 
 They came in merry groups at eve, 
 And clustered round my vine-clad door; 
 
 I love to hear their sweet low tones. 
 Telling me stories o'er and o'er. 
 
 All through the bright June day I wait 
 To hear their voices sweet and low; 
 
 They sing the lovliest songs of joy 
 And dance and flutter to and fro'. 
 
14 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 They comfort me when I am sad, 
 
 And bring- g-ay trophies from their homes; 
 
 Oh, how I'd like to g^o and dwell 
 In a fairy dell with spirit g^nomes. 
 
 Today I hear their tiny feet. 
 
 Pit-patter 'round my g-arden chair, 
 
 And I in fancy smile and say 
 Good-bye to every trifling- care. 
 
 They tell of joy that we shall know 
 
 When earth-world frees our restless hands. 
 
 And we wander at our own sweet will 
 With friends in an enchanted land. 
 
 We know no sorrows when they come; 
 
 The sky takes on a deeper blue, 
 And all of earth seems a rare dream, 
 
 And do you tell me 'tis not true? 
 
 Then let me dream and never wake 
 To know how poor a life can be. 
 
 Leave me the fairies and their dreams — 
 Their fancies sweet and mysteries. 
 
 DOLLY IN THE HAMMOCK. 
 
 RocK-A-BYi;, dolly; swings high and swing- low, 
 I will watch over you dear as you g-o. 
 
 Your nice little hammock hang-s here in the lig-ht, 
 I will sing- to you, darling-, a loving- g-ood nig-ht. 
 
A BUNDLIi OF TWIGS. 15 
 
 So close your eyes gently, and fold your hands so, 
 While I sing- to you, dolly, swing high and swing low. 
 
 O'ER DISTANT HILLS. 
 
 O'er distant hills the faint light gleams. 
 In wavering shadows to the west, 
 While I in dreams of doubt and loss. 
 Have filled my soul with sad unrest. 
 The changing years yet bring to me, 
 Pair visions, far above all ills. 
 Of joyous hope and peace sublime. 
 Beyond the grandeur of the hills. 
 
 SOMETIME. 
 
 We are climbing the heights here, day by day, 
 And often the way seems dark and long. 
 Then again, our hearts are light and free. 
 As we hear from friendly lips a song. 
 How we cherish the warmth and love it brings, 
 And hope, a sweet echo in memory rings. 
 
 We are steadily, earnestly, sowing seed. 
 That perhaps finds rest in a fertile soil, 
 And will bring forth fruit a hundred fold, 
 A just reward for honest toil. 
 Ivet us scatter the seeds of kindness well, 
 Their worth, the future alone can tell. 
 
16 A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. > 
 
 We must not pause thoug-h we fail today. 
 Tomorrow may bring- an easier rule, 
 Or greater streng-th for the burden g-iven; 
 We should patience learn in every school. 
 Work on in sunshine and in rain, 
 Sometime to know, it was not in vain. 
 
 Yet, when there are thorns 'neath our weary feet, 
 
 We fain would seek another way, 
 
 Forg-etting- that every path in life 
 
 Must have its clouds, somewhere, some day. 
 
 E)arth's fairest flower may have a thorn. 
 
 As noontide and nig-ht follow rosy morn. 
 
 Thank God for the beautiful sometimes here. 
 That are brig-ht and precious, and dear and sweet. 
 Red letter days in after times. 
 Making- our lives here more complete. 
 For if unfinished our work mav be, 
 'Twill be rig-hted at last in eternity. 
 
 TOMORROW. 
 
 Tomorrow! Ah me. 'Tis a fitful word, 
 And many a hope on its dawning- ding's. 
 
 Many joys are planned for the time to come. 
 As the bird at the open window sings. 
 
 Tomorrow! But then it may never come. 
 
 That which we hope is a joy for years 
 May but awaken in our hearts, 
 
 A feeling- of sadness, akin to tears. 
 
A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 17 
 
 Then while today is brig-ht and fair, 
 With happy memories for this spot, 
 
 Receive the g^ood that earth can bring-. 
 
 Content without pleasures that you have not. 
 
 WHY. 
 
 I DO not love you fondly. 
 
 Because your eyes are g"ray. 
 
 Or that your hair is wavy, dark and brown. 
 
 Nor for your g^entle actions, 
 
 And laug-hter light and g'ay, 
 
 The music of your voice I fain would drown. 
 
 The world may be all smiling". 
 
 And cheerful unto you — 
 
 Its tones may lure you onward to the g^oal. 
 
 You may find kind companions, 
 
 But friends are oft' untrue. 
 
 And bitter poison sears the trustful soul. 
 
 I know you labor g-ladly. 
 
 With ready brain and hand. 
 
 And your earnest work will never be in vain. 
 
 And sometimes as I watch you, 
 
 I can fully understand, 
 
 That life has pleasant joys, unfraugfht with pain. 
 
 Now I will tell a secret 
 
 You may not like to hear. 
 
 Yet, after all, perhaps you will not care. 
 
 You remind me of a lost one, 
 
18 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Whose memory I hold dear, 
 
 I knew so long- ago, when life was fair. 
 
 Then grudge me not your friendship, 
 
 Or e'en a pleasant smile, 
 
 To cheer me sometimes, as I pass along. 
 
 I thank you for it kindly, 
 
 'Twill brig-hten for awhile 
 
 The pathway that seems full of doubt and wrong-. 
 
 THE SETTING SUN. 
 
 I WATCH the sun adown the western sky. 
 Grow redder as it nears its hiding place, 
 
 And yet its rays are dimmer on my hand; 
 Its warmth is chang-ing- from my tired face. 
 
 Ah g-lorious sun, how much of warmth you take; 
 
 How much of lig-ht the dark earth loves to keep. 
 Yet you'll be coming- with your sunny beams 
 
 For morrow's light, while we are fast asleep. 
 
 How much of sin is hidden from our eyes 
 
 By the rude darkness when you sink from sight; 
 
 How many crimes that shrink from light of day 
 Will find retreat in hushed and silent nig-ht. 
 
 Why do I dream? Time, with his rapid strides, 
 Ne'er pauses more than yonder river's flow. 
 
 While deeds of g-ood are missed and friends grow 
 strang-e. 
 As I dream on, more than I care to know. 
 
A BUNDIvE O^ TWIGS. 19 
 
 What matter now, if we ne'er meet again. 
 
 Tomorrow's sun will gleam as warm and bright, 
 As though no aching, erring, longing hearts 
 
 Through trembling lips say sadly now, "good- 
 night." 
 
 AFTERGLOW. 
 
 The, light will come after my darling, 
 The storm cannot last when its wrath 
 
 Has taken the office of nature, 
 
 And swept the debris from your path. 
 
 Then there will be nothing but roses; 
 
 No eyes to meet yours filled with pain. 
 Only sweet peace, and contentment. 
 
 And a knowledge that life is not vain. 
 
 Only the sunshine to greet you; 
 
 No shadow to linger or fret. 
 Our hearts are so weak that when tempted, 
 
 How easily they can forget. 
 
 The faint tinge of daylight that painted 
 The hill-tops with pink when I came, 
 
 Has vanished, and yon distant mountain 
 Bears now the red light of a flame. 
 
 But in life we must ever be earnest; 
 
 And though some are false that we know, 
 There's a deep under-current of kindness. 
 
 With a never ceaseless flow, 
 
20 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 That brings us a peace and contentment, 
 
 That all may truly know, 
 Even though after the tempest. 
 
 It is only the afterglow. 
 
 THE FUTURE. 
 
 There is no light like hope, 
 
 There is no joy like gain; 
 There is no greater happiness 
 
 Than that, after grief and pain. 
 
 There is no time like now — 
 Shadows pass with the night. 
 
 Temptations can not linger. 
 Our weak hearts to affright. 
 
 No sorrow is deep or sad, 
 
 But its power must be spent. 
 
 And a calmer peace abide 
 As a cheerful supplement. 
 
 Though the past was full of snares, 
 At times hope's light unseen. 
 
 The winter's frost and snow 
 
 Are followed by spring-time green. 
 
 And the sunshine of love is bright. 
 
 And hope, on joyful wing. 
 Points toward the future years, 
 
 And our eager voices sing. 
 
A BUNDIvE or" TWIGS. 21 
 
 And our eyes look up to find 
 
 Ivife has a brigfhter way, • 
 
 If ,we think of the scenes beyond, 
 As we journey day by day. 
 
 HOME AT LAST. 
 
 Home at last — O sacred refug^e 
 From the cares of earthly strife 
 
 Safe within the blessed portal, 
 Where we have eternal life. 
 
 All our weakness, sin and sorrow, 
 Left upon the earthly shore. 
 
 Home at last, with blessed Jesus, 
 Here to rest for evermore. 
 
 No more wandering- in darkness. 
 Fearing- thorns and restless tides; 
 
 Safe from life's perplexing- duties, 
 We are His and naught beside. 
 
 ONLY A LITTLE WAY. 
 
 Dear little hands that we have clasped so fondly; 
 
 Sweet lips that we have pressed to ours. 
 We miss so much the g-entle, living- presence. 
 
 Of these sweet, blooming-, earthly flowers. 
 
22 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 O precious, dear, is that fond life that held 
 
 Alluring- sunshine for our home. 
 How can we journey on without them, 
 
 With aching- hearts so empty, sad, and lone? 
 
 Full well we know his feet knew not the tiring- 
 Of thorny paths and roug-h, uneven ways; 
 
 His winning- smile, his laug-hter, lig-ht and joyous, 
 Brig-htened our lives for a few happy days. 
 
 Yet we are g-lad the journey is no long-er 
 From us to him (if needs be he must g-o,) 
 
 And we shall hope and pray, with patience. 
 To meet him, when our Father wills it so. 
 
 KEEP ALIVE IN THE HEARTS OF YOUR FRIENDS. 
 
 If you dwell in distant places. 
 
 If you find new friends to g-reet, 
 Newer and fairer faces, 
 
 And voices low and sweet, 
 Just cherish a tender memory 
 
 For the ones you leave behind. 
 Whose hearts are true and loving-, 
 
 Whose deeds are ever kind. 
 
 Don't let them soon forg-et you. 
 But show from time to time 
 
 That you are fond and loving-. 
 And want their love's sunshine. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 23 
 
 The world is full of sorrow; 
 We often hear its moan 
 
 In throng's of eager pleasure, 
 Where thrills its undertone. 
 
 There are saddened hearts still aching, 
 
 From some memory of the past, 
 As trees are twisted and ruined 
 
 By the fierceness of the blast. 
 But there is joy and gladness 
 
 For those who heed His will; 
 So let us be kind and forgiving, 
 
 And remember the old friends still. ^ , 
 
 Keep alive in the hearts of your friends, then. 
 
 Don't let them ever forget 
 That you still love their memory. 
 
 And long to see them yet. 
 If they're near just visit them often, 
 
 Show by your look and tone, 
 That you still have a claim on their friendship 
 
 That your love is not outgrown. 
 
 Yes, be kind and cheerful always; 
 
 Keep the shadows from your face. 
 Show the friends who are true and faithful, 
 
 You are not behind in the race. 
 Keep pace with the moving millions — 
 
 Keep up with the advanced time. 
 Keep alive in the hearts of your friends, too. 
 
 In every land and clime. 
 
24 A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 
 
 NO LETTER. 
 
 {Dedicated to K. B.) 
 
 Dearest, I found a book today, 
 
 With your name written neatly there. 
 
 It brought to mind, so vividly. 
 
 The days we knew once — O, so fair. 
 
 I did not read the lines above 
 
 The name, for I was very sad, 
 To think that you are silent now, 
 
 When once, your letters made me glad. 
 
 Why, dear one, through the changing years. 
 Have you withdrawn your friendly hand. 
 
 That penned sweet words that kept us joined, 
 Though you were in a distant land? 
 
 Are you in trouble, are you ill? 
 
 Or why this silence, hard to bear? 
 I never even doubt your love 
 
 With the harsh thought, you do not care. 
 
 If sorrow is the bitter foe 
 
 Who separates us now, my prayer 
 
 Is ever, that the clouds may fade 
 And leave no shadowing of care, 
 
 To darken, any time, your life, 
 Whose sunshine, even in the past. 
 
 Was tempered with a bitter pain 
 Of silent grief. Does it still last? 
 
 If so, then write me but a word, 
 To tell me you do not forget. 
 
A bundle: of twigs, 25 
 
 O, let us still, through future days, 
 Be earnest, true, and faithful yet. 
 
 O friend, today I reach my hand 
 Across the waste of changing tide, 
 
 And this betokens that I'll be 
 
 Faithful and true, whate'er betide. 
 
 TO MY SCHOLARS. 
 
 iviTTL^E feet, that need such tender guiding. 
 Will, always, some one guide their way? 
 
 And fill their pathway full of roses. 
 Sweet-scented, 'neath the sunset's ray. 
 
 Your love to me has been such a sweet treasure; 
 
 I prized it as the choicest gem. 
 God grant that ever, all your future teachers 
 
 Will find you just as kind and good to them. 
 
 1 thank you all, dear children, for the roses 
 
 That filled the room with fragrant breath and bloom; 
 That carried us, in thought, to fairy woodland. 
 Away from whitewashed walls and dusty room. 
 
 Today we part, dear ones, perhaps forever; 
 
 And yet, I cannot bear to have it so. 
 I know I'll long again for those dear faces. 
 
 That have smiled on me in the summer's glow. 
 
 The harvest-time has passed, and we have gathered 
 The golden sheaves from out the treasured store, 
 
26 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And said g-ood-bye, for a short time, to labor, 
 To rest awhile, outside the school-room door. 
 
 Good-bye dear ones, I would that I mig-ht ever 
 Teach each kind heart and hand to do the rig-ht. 
 
 I leave you with God's blessing- resting' o'er you. 
 And bid you all a loving-, last g-ood-nig-ht. 
 
 WINE IS A MOCKER. 
 
 O RUM, what a curse to this nation ! 
 
 What bitter and desolate woe 
 You leave in the paths around you, 
 
 Wherever your footsteps go. 
 You rob men of manhood and honor — 
 
 Making-'them kneel in the dust, 
 Knowing- not their own baseness, 
 
 Or that you are ever unjust. 
 
 They fig-ht you in vain in their weakness. 
 
 This army now marching- along. 
 Over the g-raves of its loved ones, 
 
 'Till its strength is almost gone. 
 O cruel and mocking tempter! 
 
 Yet, ruled by the hand of men, 
 When will the earth, rejoicing. 
 
 Be free from your toils again. 
 
 Boys and men are tempted — 
 
 Sometimes, e'en the strongest fail, 
 
 Carried away by this evil 
 
 That is worse than a cyclone gale. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 27 
 
 You silently, stealthily enter 
 The homes that might be fair; 
 
 Did not you, with your mocking" laughter. 
 Fill them with g-rief and care? 
 
 When will the people conquer — 
 
 Those who bow down to it now — 
 Who will not listen to reason. 
 
 But break every pledge and vow? 
 God grant that sometime in this nation 
 
 We no longer may find willing slaves 
 To this evil that only brings them, 
 
 At last, to dishonored graves. 
 
 A GIFT. 
 
 I GAVE you my friendship long ago. 
 When you were a happy, joyous boy, 
 
 And you, on other thoughts intent. 
 Cast it away as a w^orthless toy. 
 
 Ah well, perhaps 'tis better so; 
 
 The changing years will leave no trace 
 To tell that I have happier been, 
 
 For that kind smile upon your face. 
 
 We may not meet again on earth — 
 In different paths our duties lie; 
 
 And, if we did, we'd only smile, 
 
 And turn with that one w^ord — good-bye. 
 
28 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 FAME. 
 
 Onward to fame our weary feet are pressing; 
 
 We think each day we're nearer to the end. 
 And loving" eyes are watching*, while in fondness 
 
 Sweet prayers from patient, trembling- lips ascend. 
 
 Tomorrow's dawn but brings today's fresh trials, 
 And burdens we must carry o'er life's road. 
 
 Must patient be, through sunshine and through shadow, 
 Though light or heavy be the given load. 
 
 True, we shall reach the end of merry school life, 
 
 To turn another corner in life's street, 
 Where many seeming friends, wearing two faces. 
 
 Will make our lessons only more complete. 
 
 We learn the worth of all who journey with us. 
 
 Sometimes, the cost, the loss of faith and trust. 
 To teach us there should be no earthly idols. 
 
 For human forms return again to dust. 
 
 Then hope may leave our hearth-stones for a season. 
 And grim despair sit frowning at the door; 
 
 A simple flower, a song, may soon recall her. 
 And we shall bless her coming o'er and o'er. 
 
 Again we think, what is the use of striving — • 
 
 So many never realize wealth or fame. 
 Why should our lives be spent in haste and labor, 
 
 To leave at last, perhaps, a simple name. 
 
 That, seeing, future men will not e'en question, 
 "Who was he — why is his name written here?" 
 
 Is our reward just praise for all expended, 
 Or censure from the lips we hold most dear? 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 29 
 
 It matters not; our duties lie before us, 
 
 And if we trust to God to make them plain, 
 
 Yet murmur not, but Help the weak and fallen, 
 In that day we'll not count our loss and pain. 
 
 GOING HOME FROM CHURCH. 
 
 I WATCHBD the long- line marching- onward. 
 And wondered what the end would be — 
 
 Where some of their bright boats would anchor 
 Upon life's heaving*, restless sea. 
 
 A strain of music, deep and thrilling-. 
 Came from the org-an at the rig-ht, 
 
 While the long- column, still unending-, 
 Kept wending onward, out of sight. 
 
 IMPERFECTION. 
 
 Sometimes, when days are dark and long; 
 
 When the fair sky has lost its blue, 
 And silent are the wild birds' songs. 
 
 And everything seems harsh, untrue, 
 
 .1 think life is a weary way — 
 
 Thorns only, press beneath my feet. 
 No place of refuge all the day. 
 Where I may find a safe retreat. 
 
30 A BUNDI^B OF TWIGS. 
 
 But what is tliat ! A merry note 
 From out the budding- alder tree. 
 
 joyous bird, your swelling" throat 
 Seems bursting in glad ecstacy. 
 
 And see ! The moonlight, not too late, 
 Gleams over house, and hill, and glen. 
 
 1 hear a whistle at the gate. 
 
 And all the world is bright again. 
 
 FORGET ME NOT, 
 
 When the winter day is waning, 
 And the evening shadows creep 
 
 'Round your room so warm and quiet. 
 Where you soon will rest in sleep, 
 
 Let your restless fancies wander 
 To a friend who loves you well, 
 
 Though no more as room-mates ever, 
 We may for a season dwell. 
 
 While the lights are changing, shifting. 
 And the night its vigil keeps, 
 
 Ivet us roam, in dreamy longing, 
 Up fair Memory's charmed steeps. 
 
 Let us join in song and story. 
 
 Newer pleasures we have known, 
 
 And once more we'll laugh together, 
 As we did in days now flown. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 31 
 
 OUT OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Out of the world with its sorrow, 
 
 I wandered away, away. 
 And never even wondered 
 
 What it would do, or say. 
 Here in my dear home-cottag-e. 
 
 With flowers sweet and fair, 
 I dream all the long-, bright summer, 
 
 With never a thought of care. 
 
 •■te ■ 
 
 I'm happy, but they don't know it 
 
 Out in the world, for sin 
 Keeps them so far from my dwelling- 
 
 They can not enter in. 
 I hope they will never find me. 
 
 For they did not miss me when 
 I left them, far too weary 
 
 To ever g-o back again. 
 
 It was out in the world that temptation 
 
 Ived me to taste of sin; 
 Old stories and early teachings 
 
 Grew strangely misty and dim. 
 Then my heart grew cold and resentful, 
 
 And my restless feet longed to stray 
 Out of the gilded pathway, 
 
 To the sunshine of truth's clear way. 
 
 So I took up my burden of sorrow. 
 And bade the great world good-bye; 
 
 Went away to find but sunshine. 
 And birds, and cloudless sky. 
 
 And so years have soothed the anguish 
 And healed, the wounds of pain. 
 
32 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And the words of One all forgotten 
 Come with comforting help again. 
 
 So at last, without fear or sadness, 
 
 Or cause for bitter tears, 
 I dwell in peace and gladness. 
 
 Knowing that future years, 
 Though they bring shade of sadness. 
 
 Will bring strength to do the best 
 If I am only patient. 
 
 And irust Him for the rest. 
 
 GOLDEN SUNBEAMS ON THE WALL. 
 
 The afternoon turns all our best thoughts westward. 
 
 E^re. night comes settling o'er us like a pall; 
 And while we ponder and sit idly dreaming, 
 
 We watch the golden sunbeams on the wall. 
 
 They gleam awhile in radiant lines of beauty. 
 Then figures make, where shadows lightly fall; 
 
 Or lead us where the paths are perfume laden. 
 
 These quaint and flickering sunbeams on the wall. 
 
 We care not what the outside world is doing. 
 If we but see the cheerful lines of light 
 
 That urge us onward to our untried duties. 
 And give us courage for the true and right. 
 
 We see our children climbing swiftly, lightly 
 Upon these ladders of dream, fame that rise 
 
A BUNDIyB OF TWIGS. 33 
 
 Like pleasure heights, just scaled by easy measures, 
 With ne'er a storm to dim the perfect skies. 
 
 On sunbeams, too, come back the days long- vanished, 
 Brig-ht scenes of youth and happy playmates all ; 
 
 And we but live the time o'er, in the silence. 
 While watching- g-lancing- sunbeams on the wall. 
 
 O beams, we thank you ever for your coming-; 
 
 The fancies sweet, the memories pure, we trace, 
 And we still ask that thoug-h you journey elsewhere, 
 
 With us you find a daily resting- place. 
 
 Shine on, g-leam on, in all your transient beauty. 
 And leave us never, thoug-h time's cross may fall; 
 
 But let us feel that we have hope and comfort. 
 While we have golden sunbeams on the wall. 
 
 AUBREY VERE. 
 
 They come like a troop of fairies, 
 The joys that I once called mine; 
 
 Thoug-h memory's touch still saddens 
 The love that once was thine. 
 
 Your joys seem sweeter and richer. 
 Your voice has a g'ayer tone; 
 
 And the careless life you are living-, 
 From a fruitless past has g-rown. 
 
 But I know there are repining-s. 
 And constant cares that fret, 
 
 For whatever the outward seeming, 
 The heart cannot forget. 
 
34 A BUNDIvK OE" TWIGS. 
 
 I mig-ht join in the laughter and music; 
 
 Might sing- with the gayest a song, 
 Not heeding the whispers of conscience, 
 
 As they come in a motley throng. 
 
 I might turn aside from the pathway, 
 Once bright with a roseate hue 
 
 Of love's too garnish sunlight, 
 That fled when it proved untrue, 
 
 I might, but my woman's heart fails me; 
 
 The past was too dear to me 
 To make a light pastime of it — 
 
 Such a hollow mockery. 
 
 Too bitter the grief I have suffered — 
 The grief, mine to bear alone; 
 
 I wonder if years of fond loving 
 Could, after all, fully atone. 
 
 I cannot tell, but I grudge you 
 No joy that your life may hold; 
 
 Only peace, undimmed and cloudless. 
 As the future years unfold. ! 
 
 A MEDLEY. 
 
 The Sabbath light is lingering o'er the hills 
 
 As I wait. 
 And all earth's joys are turned to ills, 
 
 Soon or late. 
 
A BUNDIvE^ OF TWIGS. 35 
 
 The river, sullen, flowing' at my feet 
 
 As I dream, 
 Changes to bitter all that once was sweet; 
 
 And the stream 
 
 That in summer time flowed cheerily. 
 
 With noisy song-. 
 Has chang-ed to murmuring-, notes that merrily 
 
 It did prolong-. 
 
 So I am lingering- on the darkened side, 
 
 And none may see 
 That as the winds are shifting with the tide. 
 
 Fate, destiny, 
 
 Brings naught to me but loneliness and pain. 
 
 And deep regret; 
 For if the past was well, or lived in vain, 
 
 We can't forget. 
 
 SOMEBODY TELLS IT. 
 
 How does my neighbor know 
 What I am daily about? 
 Why does the busy world see 
 What I want it not to find out? 
 Why, surely, somebody tells it. 
 
 How does the editor learn 
 
 Of the happenings of the week? 
 
 Where do the children gain 
 
 The numerous things they speak? 
 
 O somebody must have told it. 
 
36 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But I think this meddlesome person, 
 
 So busy all the day, 
 
 Had better put his weapons of warfare all 
 
 away. 
 And leave all the chiding" and judging* 
 Till that last recurring day — 
 And let only the angels tell it. 
 
 JANIE. 
 
 JaniB, my dear old darling, 
 
 I miss you at morn and at eve; 
 And, thinking of you as absent. 
 My heart can not but grieve. 
 
 1 miss the old time gladness. 
 The sunshine and the song; 
 
 Since you are not with me Janie, 
 The time seems very long. 
 
 The familiar scenes about me 
 
 Recall you so to mind 
 That death seems very cruel. 
 
 And selfish, and unkind. 
 
 My heart cries out for you, darling; 
 
 The days seem long and drear 
 When I cannot see you, darling — 
 
 Never can find you here. 
 
 The waters are wild and angry 
 In that wide, dividing stream; 
 
 So that we may not see you. 
 Only as in a dream. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 37 
 
 We long" for the boatman to tarry, 
 To take us with him o'er the tide, 
 
 Where with you in that Ivand of Promise, 
 We may e'er in peace abide. 
 
 THE TIME IS LONG. 
 
 I STRETCH my hands out through the days that ling-er. 
 And seek to reach yours — clasp them as of old, 
 
 For I again can hear the bees' low murmur. 
 
 As they swiftly pass through sunlight's filtered gold. 
 
 The blackbirds carol in the leafy hedges, 
 
 In gayest mood, through sunshine and through rain. 
 
 While I, averse, cannot be merry hearted. 
 
 But hear their songs with heart so full of pain. 
 
 The time is long, and there are broken measures 
 In happy scenes and olden memories fond; 
 
 The music is discordant, but the beauty 
 
 Of peace and love may come in days beyond. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE RAIN. 
 
 Thb wind is sobbing and sighing; 
 
 The rain in swift gusts sweeps 
 Against my bedroom window. 
 
 And awakes me from my sleep. 
 
38 A BUNDIvB OI" TWIGS. 
 
 rain, so full of music! 
 
 O wind, with your lonesome sound! 
 
 1 love you both as I listen. 
 
 As you go on your ceaseless round. 
 
 I think, and dream, and fancy 
 That I hear the rain repeat 
 
 Some old and loving- story, 
 So quaintly true and sweet. 
 
 Over and over 'tis sing-ing- 
 That song- of merry June; 
 . When all nature was bright and smiling-. 
 And with love's own joy atune. 
 
 So rain drops beat your measure 
 
 Upon my window pane, 
 And winds still murmur gently; 
 
 My heart heeds the refrain, 
 
 And takes up the thought and g-ladness 
 Of that sweet time — once mine. 
 
 When life was one fair dreamland. 
 And earth all brig-ht sunshine. 
 
 GLAD HEARTED. 
 
 I AM so glad that all the past has vanished. 
 And nevermore can the short seasons hold 
 
 Half of the misery or darkness 
 That came to me in days of old. 
 
A BUNDIvi: OF TWIGS. 39 
 
 The future days must be all bright and sunny; 
 
 Joy must out-ride all barks upon the tide, 
 That have a cloud to mar their peace or pleasure, 
 
 I cast all dreams of fame aside. 
 
 those old days! How I abhor their memory! 
 How hidden all their brig-htest light has been; 
 
 For idleness was there, and pleasure, 
 
 So that sweet peace could never enter in. 
 
 The storms, indeed, were very fierce at seasons; 
 
 But now I see a clear, untroubled sea, 
 And fairer sky, of loving promise. 
 
 Bringing all happiness to me. 
 
 1 welcome you, O days of life's glad summer — 
 
 Sunshine and peace, and love and bliss. 
 Let none but happy memories linger. 
 And let me know no dread but this — 
 
 That I shall sometime prove so weak, unworthy 
 Of all the blessings that the years may hold. 
 
 But I shall labor ever, O so gladly! 
 To keep the best of life's pure gold. 
 
 MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Dbar Mother, the daylight has vanished, 
 The shadows of night are here; 
 
 And I have been longing to see you, 
 But know you are not near. 
 
40 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 A year has vanished, Mother, 
 Since I saw your smiling- face, 
 
 Yet I hear the music of your voice. 
 In many a weary place. 
 
 The scenes where once we lingered, 
 
 In the days of long- ago. 
 Have gone, perhaps forever — 
 
 Their joys we may not know. 
 If grief has been your portion, 
 
 I write you now with cheer. 
 To brighten all your pathway. 
 
 Through all the coming year. 
 
 May only sweetest flowers 
 
 Still bloom around your way, 
 And bring you peace and comfort. 
 
 On this, a glad birthday. 
 Ivife has its lights and shadows, 
 
 Its joy, and bliss, and care. 
 But the blessings of His kindness 
 
 Surround us everywhere. 
 
A BUNDLrE OF TWIGS. 41 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 Forward bring- all your trophies now, 
 O children young- and old; 
 Remember that the w^estern sun 
 Takes on a ting-e of gold. 
 Yet life is not all darkened now, 
 Wen thoug-h some shadows fall; 
 In brig-hter morn the day shall dawn; 
 God reig-neth over all. 
 Humbly we now tog-ether meet, 
 Knowing- life's joy and love. 
 Peaceful and happy here, and hope 
 To meet in Heaven above. 
 
 DON'T WORRY. 
 
 WeIvIv, what is the use to worry? 
 
 The world will take care of its own; 
 There are places abloom with flowers. 
 
 Where the sun has never shone. 
 
 Don't fret because your neig-hbor 
 
 Has a finer house and lot; 
 At the same time he may be longing- 
 
 For something you have got. 
 
 If you envy other people 
 
 For wealth, or joy, or fame; 
 
 If your position was reversed. 
 You'd be longing just the same. 
 
42 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Don't worry if the seasons 
 
 Are not just to suit your taste; 
 
 Trust God to manage a little — 
 The earth will not all be waste. 
 
 He alone can g"ive the increase — 
 Can provide the abundant supply; 
 
 And only when He chooseth, 
 Shall a blossom fade and die. 
 
 He can attend to the weather, 
 
 And we need never fret; 
 For He is wise and loving-, 
 
 And never can forg-et. 
 
 So don't try to run the machinery 
 Of the whole w^orld at once; 
 
 For, instead of becoming- a g-enius, 
 You may only remain a dunce. 
 
 There are other people, remember. 
 In this world; nay, not a few. 
 
 Who can g-et along- without you. 
 No matter what you do. 
 
 EVENING PRAYER. 
 
 Our Father in Heaven we thank Thee 
 For all of Thy love and care, 
 
 And may we ever serve Thee, 
 Is our constant wish and prayer. 
 
A bundle; of twigs. 43 
 
 KEEP NOTHING BACK. 
 
 KiiEP nothing- back. Give out your heart's best 
 treasures. 
 
 Let others breathe the sunshine that you feel. 
 Leave no lone ship to drift in sorrow's waters, 
 
 Until despair's harsh stones grate on its keel. 
 
 Smile when you can, thoug^h your own heart be ach- 
 ing-; 
 
 It may call forth from other lips a smile. 
 And we can ill afford to cherish sadness — 
 
 We journey here for such a little while. 
 
 And all the way is roug-h, and careless walking- 
 Bring-s many a thorn-prick to our feet; 
 
 And even all the resting- at the twilig-ht 
 
 Can scarcely make our lives with bliss replete. 
 
 If your flowers bloom and fond love crowns life's 
 g-ladness, 
 Give to your near ones, all, a plentious share; 
 For they may pass beyond the reach of g-iving. 
 Before the next year's flowers bloom fresh and 
 fair. 
 
 Sing- a sweet song-, if some one wants to hear it. 
 
 The voice that asks so kindly for it now 
 May soon be silent — broken chord of music; 
 
 We know not where we'll meet ag-ain — or how. 
 
 All the kind words received in each dear letter. 
 Think fondly on, and answer soon and well; 
 
 For who may read the next kind messag-e sent you, 
 Or yours to them, no human voice can tell. 
 
44 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Keep nothing" back. Make all the world some bet- 
 ter. 
 
 Though weak, unworthy, all your life may seem, 
 L/et cheerful words shine like a light around you, 
 
 To guide some other boat adown life's stream. 
 
 Keep nothing back. The ocean waves are grander 
 For every rippling rill that swells the tide; 
 
 I^et us be sowing, soon will come the reaping, 
 As we draw near the last, bright eventide. 
 
 ASLEEP. 
 
 The springtime is here, my darling. 
 
 But you do not know it yet; 
 But I am thinking about you — 
 
 I think I shall never forget. 
 
 The tenderly springing grasses 
 
 Are dotting the earth again, 
 And the birds, with their wild, free music. 
 
 Are heard in meadow and glen. 
 
 The little flowers are blooming, 
 Just out of the dark, brown mold, 
 
 Where they have been warmly sheltered. 
 All through the winter's cold. 
 
 But you lie, all unconscious 
 
 Of the gladness of life we see 
 All around and about us — 
 
 Nature's sweet mystery. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 45 
 
 You are happier in your silence 
 Than I know I can ever be; 
 
 For one gladness that I longed for, 
 Will never come to me. 
 
 I shall come in the summer twilight, 
 And sit by your shrouded bed, 
 
 And watch the simple flowers 
 That will dainty perfume shed 
 
 Above the pla6e where you're lying, • 
 And the time will pass away; 
 
 And I shall meet and greet you 
 As I used to do, some day. 
 
 Sleep on, in your sheltered silence ! 
 
 I will not disturb your rest. 
 But will come again to greet you, 
 
 When our Father thinks 'tis best. 
 
 THEY SHALL GATHER THE ROSES. 
 
 We may toil as we will, as we journey; 
 
 We may taste of the pleasures we know. 
 But the free hands shall gather their roses. 
 
 While ours shall lie 'neath the snow. 
 
 If we are bound with a burden — ' 
 
 If our feet are wearied still, 
 We must not complain if others 
 
 Gather the roses at will. 
 
46 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Hidden 'neath smiles of pleasure. 
 We mig"lit look for a tortured brain, 
 
 And hear the throbbing- life-beats 
 Of a heart that is full of pain. 
 
 And we think some are g^athering- roses^ 
 
 Who only scatter the seed, 
 L/eaving" the g-rowth of the blossoms 
 
 To be watched by those who need 
 
 So much of life's best sunshine, 
 
 Untempered, without alloy, 
 To fashion their better natures — 
 
 To fill their world with joy. 
 
 And shall we beg^rudg-e the roses 
 
 To other lives than ours, 
 That are needing the scented life-breath 
 
 Of the fresh, the beautiful flowers? 
 
 Shall we wish the thorns to poison 
 The fing-ers that reach for them. 
 
 Because our pathways are shadowed — 
 We never see sunlig-ht ag^ain? 
 
 O help us. Our Father in Heaven, 
 To strive for the better tone 
 
 Of purity and kindness. 
 Of selfishness outg-rown. 
 
 And a simple trusting- that tells us, 
 We may serve Him if we will, 
 
 E^ven if others around us 
 Gather the roses still. 
 
A BUNDIyB OF TWIGS. 47 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 The morning- brouglit clouds and sadness, 
 The noon broug"ht clear sunshine; 
 
 And now as the twilight gathers, 
 Sweet comfort and peace are mine. 
 
 Peace, not of earth so fleeting. 
 
 That the wing of a bird might sway, 
 
 But the rich blessing of his promise, 
 That fadeth not away. 
 
 And I thank Him tonight, for His goodness 
 Has brought such a brightness to me; 
 
 A hope — that after parting. 
 
 If he wills it, our friends we shall see. 
 
 If not in this world that we gather, 
 Where are partings and promises vain. 
 
 We may greet in that heavenly mansion. 
 Never to part again. 
 
 TO A CHRISTIAN FRIEND. 
 
 Arise, dear friend, behold the glorious morning, 
 
 That wakens at the rising of the sun. 
 As if all nature, and the friends of nature, 
 
 A newer, stronger life had just begun. 
 Throw off the yoke of care and discontentment, 
 
 And let sweet joy fill all your soul today; 
 Put on the garb of peace and royal service. 
 
 And from your life bid sorrow flee away. 
 
48 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Dwell now in Him, and learn of Him e'er gladly, 
 
 As ceaseless time flies by on tireless wing's; 
 No hope for earthly things in His bright haven, 
 
 The pilgrim knows, as cheerily he sings. 
 The world may scornful be, and sneer so rudely 
 
 Upon the travelers, though they have sinned; 
 Have touched the hem upon His sacred garment, 
 
 And crying "help," look toward the light undimmed. 
 
 On rudest thorns their untrained feet are pressing. 
 
 But no complaint shall pass their trembling lips; 
 For he who long has drained the cup of pleasure, 
 
 Must learn its worth as from the dregs he sips. 
 How can we keep from singing His dear praises. 
 
 Since He to earth a lonely wanderer came! 
 Took on the flesh and daily walked so humbly, 
 
 Bearing so meekly all the guilt and shame. 
 
 Shine on, O sun, and brighten in your beauty. 
 
 This busy world from which a chosen few 
 Shall meet with Him, and be in love united, 
 
 Yet while on earth, are happier for you. 
 How happy are the ones who live and trust him! 
 
 Who meekly bear in peace His chastening rod; 
 Whose happiest moments here are in the toiling 
 
 That brings them nearer to their home with God. 
 
 THREE LEAFED CLOVER. 
 
 O CLOVER abloom in the meadow! 
 
 O heads gleaming white in the grass! 
 Why do you bend and quiver. 
 
 And shrink from my feet as I pass? 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 49 
 
 I love you, O leaves and blossoms; 
 
 I watch you as I pass by, 
 And earth seems to hold more of gfladness, 
 
 And I see no clouds in the sky. 
 
 Yet I cannot always remember 
 
 The lessons of joy you would teach. 
 
 I cannot sing praises half worthy 
 Of you, in my faltering" speech. 
 
 And still you are nodding- and bending", 
 
 Where g^ently the breezes blow; 
 I laug"h as I reach out and clasp you, 
 
 fairy-like blossoms of snow. 
 
 But four-leafed, where are you hiding, 
 
 1 look for you, all in vain; 
 Only three leaves g"reet my vision. 
 
 Over and over ag"ain. 
 
 But I know a good spirit is sheltered, 
 Where even the three leaves dwell; 
 
 Whose story, faintly and sweetly, 
 To me in fond accents they tell. 
 
 UNANSWERED. 
 
 O HiivivS, fast purpling in the twilight dim. 
 
 Your grandeur bids me toil and gain your heights. 
 
 Where, in the nearer, plainer vision gained, 
 
 I may peer through the sun's fast fading light. 
 
50 A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. 
 
 What chains you there, immovable, serene. 
 
 Through calm or storm, through shade or shine? 
 
 What mystery of hope or peace have you, 
 That may not, if I wish it, now be mine? 
 
 O towering" hills, bend lower now and tell. 
 
 In whispering* tones, I plead, what lies beyond. 
 
 May I pursue, untiring-, all the way. 
 
 And find such joy that my heart shall respond? 
 
 You answer not, O hills so calm and cold; 
 
 You stand unchanged through all the seasons' time. 
 You have no answer on your proud, high brow. 
 
 To answer this rebellious heart of mine. 
 
 So I must wait, through weary days and years, 
 To greet the joy I hoped to find today; 
 
 But life must know some gladness and content. 
 Though what we love to keep is given away. 
 
 Yes! Though we lay a burden that we love 
 
 Down at the feet, so eager, too, to go. 
 We must resign it, though 'twere sweet to keep. 
 
 And never let them know we prized it so. 
 
 So life goes on, and every round of years 
 
 Brings with its sadness, some sweet peace or bliss, 
 
 Fulfilling all the promises of love. 
 
 And making, too, amends for what we miss. 
 
A BUNDIvi; OF TWIGS. 51 
 
 ROBIN RED BREAST. 
 
 LiTTivB Robin Red Breast, 
 
 I am g-lad you are here; 
 For you come so early, 
 
 And tell us spring is near. 
 
 You look so g"ay and cheerful — 
 
 Do you want to sing-? 
 Are you g-lad to come here? 
 
 Do you think it's spring-? 
 
 I will feed you, Robin, 
 
 For I love to hear 
 Your sweet song-s and chirping-s. 
 
 In notes so loud and clear. 
 
 And do you know, dear Robin, 
 What mamma told to me? 
 
 That if we'd wish for something-. 
 The first robin that we see, 
 
 Our wish will be g-ranted, Robin; 
 
 Yes, it will all come true. 
 Now do you wonder, Robin, 
 
 That I am kind to you? 
 
 I love you, little Robin, 
 
 As I have said before; 
 Now come and g-ather all the crumbs 
 
 I've scattered by the door. 
 
 You are my friend, dear Robin, 
 
 And I will ever be 
 A friend to all the robins. 
 
 With their free-hearted g-lee. 
 
52 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 So, little Robin Red Breast, 
 
 Sing" and sing" to me, 
 Come every morning early, 
 
 With your cheery chirp chee re. 
 
 I will not fling an arrow, 
 
 To wound your bright red breast, 
 
 For God has made you, Robin, 
 And can care for you the best. 
 
 THE LAND WHERE OUR DREAMS COME TRUE. 
 
 There's a land in a far away country, 
 Where the skies are fadeless and blue. 
 
 Where there's never a sound of sorrow — 
 The land where our dreams come true. 
 
 There is music and mirth and pleasure 
 
 As pure as the fragrant dew, 
 Where is never a tone discordant, 
 
 In the notes so sweet and true. 
 
 O that beautiful, beautiful city. 
 
 Where is sunlight undimmed and brig"ht, 
 
 Where fairest flowers are blooming 
 With never mildew or blight. 
 
 Where strife and sinning and sorrow 
 
 Will be ended for you and I, 
 And faint lips never murmur 
 
 '"Twill be better by and by." 
 
A BUNDLE O^ TWIGS. 5S 
 
 Where rested feet are pressing- 
 
 The g"reen and daisied sod, 
 And purest lives are blended 
 
 With the perfect life of God. 
 
 And pleasures undimmed and fadeless, 
 
 With never a thought untrue, 
 No fancies to tire our senses 
 
 But where all our dreams come true. 
 
 CRUSHED VIOLETS. 
 
 Sweet scented blossoms that I loved 
 
 And g"athered at the close of day, 
 Why should you droop and wither so, 
 
 And hide your smiling eyes away. 
 
 g-entle flowers, lowly born, 
 
 You scarce look up to g*reet the lig"ht. 
 And only for a little while 
 
 You help to make the sad earth bright. 
 
 1 hold you in my trembling hands, 
 And burning tears fall while I say, 
 
 I cannot keep you fresh and fair, 
 Like hopes of earth, you fade away. 
 
 We too shall fade, and missed no more, 
 While laughter rings above our tomb, 
 
 And where the moist earth covers us, 
 
 Next year the sweet spring flowers shall bloom. 
 
54 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 WE MUST FIGHT OUR OWN BATTLES. 
 
 Wb must fig^ht our own battles, my children, 
 We must wage against wrong w^ith the right; 
 
 We must have but one leader for captain, 
 If we would be first in the fight. 
 
 We must ever be patient and cheerful — 
 A smile is more precious than gold. 
 
 We may all be helpers and teachers, 
 To the young as well as the old. 
 
 And out of the pleasures and trials. 
 Our own lives must strive and awake; 
 
 Work as we will for the Master, 
 He suffered e'en death for our sake. 
 
 We cannot ask others to help us, 
 To carry the burdens we've made. 
 
 And let them toil, weary and sunburned. 
 While we sit at rest in the shade. 
 
 No, we must be faithful soldiers, 
 
 If every battle we would win; 
 No one can live our lives for us. 
 
 Whether of goodness or sin. 
 
 Then gird on your armor, my children, 
 
 Right about face in the field. 
 Keep step, and keep faith in your captain— 
 
 Ivook well to your helmet and shield. 
 
 You want to be heroes and victors? 
 
 Thenjig^kl till the last light of day, 
 And you will have captured the enemy, 
 
 And conquered, at last, in the fray. 
 
A bundIve; of twigs. 55 
 
 VACATION. 
 
 The old school house stands empty in the sunshine, 
 The bell's loud clanging- tong-ue is still; 
 
 The teachers now are seeking* other pleasures, 
 
 While the dear children roam at their sweet will. 
 
 The days pass by with healthful pleasures laden, 
 Our hearts g-row lig-ht and g-ay with joy again. 
 
 And we are feeling — O so glad and thankful 
 That labor ended where our rest began. 
 
 The sun shines brighter through the waving tree-tops. 
 
 The birds sing sweeter from their nest. 
 And every day of happiness so welcome 
 
 Is crowned at last by evening's peaceful rest. 
 
 So let the children learn to prize their freedom- 
 Freedom of thought, and action as they live. 
 
 And of the joys and peace their lives are needing, 
 May they have all the changing earth can give. 
 
 I leave them so, all happy, cheerful, loving. 
 May sorrow never make their bright eyes dim. 
 
 And may the teachings live so as to meet them 
 In blissful happiness, some day, with Him. 
 
 MAYTIME. 
 
 The first of May and only tender leaves, 
 Are seen where once rich foliage has been. 
 
 Sweet May, with happy mirth and song. 
 And a few flowers are gladly welcomed in. 
 
56 A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 
 
 Now in the meadow, down where the tiny streams^ 
 Ivow murmuring", flow steadily along", 
 
 I stop to pick a few brig"ht yellow flowers, 
 And know they will not ling"er with us long". 
 
 The fresh g"reen g"rass is short and softly fine. 
 And makes a verdant carpet for our feet. 
 
 We thank you for it with a g"rateful heart. 
 
 Nor chide because your flowers are not as sweet 
 
 As household blooms we cherish in our homes. 
 Where many a joy is welcomed with delig"ht, 
 
 For we still love you and will ever be, 
 
 Imager to welcome you, with warmth and lig"ht. 
 
 IF I HAD KNOWN. 
 
 If I had known in the spring"time. 
 
 How, all the summer long", 
 I should miss your pleasant friendship, 
 
 In the midst of mirth and song"; 
 If I had know^n, ah, in knowing", 
 
 Could I have kinder been, 
 And kept the loving" letters. 
 
 With such sweet peace -w^ithin? 
 
 I doubt now, when I ponder. 
 
 That I could have smiled and said, 
 
 Such tender words that the flowers 
 Of friendship, would not now be dead. 
 
 But I did not know in the spring time — 
 The summer brought me the truth. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 57 
 
 And I wrote on the dear fond letters, 
 "Another dream of youth." 
 
 Then came the dark brown autumn, 
 
 With its undertone of woe. 
 With its wailing- and sobbing, sighing". 
 
 As if for the "long- ag-o." 
 And now white chilling winter, 
 
 Is monarch of the land, 
 All dreams and hopes are buried. 
 
 Beneath his out-stretched hand. 
 
 But to each in his life I am thinking. 
 
 Come seasons of pleasure and pain. 
 Oft' we lay down a precious burden, 
 
 That we ne'er shall take up again. 
 No matter for thorns or crosses, 
 
 That beset our lives today. 
 Sometime they too shall vanish. 
 
 And love, himself, hold sway. 
 
 A THOUGHT IN AUTUMN. 
 
 The summer days have passed, and autumn, 
 With nature's brush is painting everything. 
 
 The once green trees are donning colored garments. 
 As gay as singing oriole on the wing. 
 
 The crickets chirp harsh notes, and children 
 
 Play livelier games upon the sward. 
 And we, although we labor gladly. 
 
 Grow too impatient for reward. 
 
58 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 We look for rain, but still the cold dark morning, 
 Tends only toward a brighter sun at noon, 
 
 And later, falls the chilling twilight. 
 The clouds have vanished all too soon. 
 
 A SOLILOQUY. 
 
 You were married tonight, my darling. 
 
 And the old-time joys we knew 
 Must never be remembered, 
 
 Or some one will be untrue. 
 I sit alone in the firelight, 
 
 Building air-castles again; 
 I wonder and I wonder, 
 
 When we two shall meet again. 
 
 I think how your fair face, darling. 
 
 Will shine in the brilliant light. 
 As some one shall greet you fondly, 
 
 And call you his own, tonight. 
 You do not think of me, dearest. 
 
 Sorrowing here alone 
 For the one I thought would make sunshine 
 
 In my little cottage home. 
 
 Your heart is gay and gladsome; 
 
 Your smile is bright and free. 
 'Tis better so my darling — 
 
 That you do not think of me. 
 The world will move on tomorrow. 
 
 The same as in days gone by. 
 What matter if things look different, 
 
 Even to you and I? 
 
A BUNDIvIi OP" TWIGS. 59 
 
 Yes, truly, what does it matter? 
 
 We shall all in time grow old; 
 The leaves of our life book each moment 
 
 More readily unfold. 
 And as we near life's evening", 
 
 What verdict will "they" pass 
 Upon the sober scholar, 
 
 And the merry, brown haired lass. 
 
 Who lives in the little cottage ? 
 
 "A bachelor, old and gray; 
 His old sweetheart lives in the mansion 
 
 Standing across the way. 
 Grieving, or sorry ? O no, sir! 
 
 She is happy and never cast down. 
 While he, (Jim Brown in the cottage,) 
 
 Is the merriest old bach in town." 
 
 SHADE OR SUN. 
 
 We find sweet flowers growing 
 
 In many a thorny hedge, 
 And sometimes rare, sweet blossoms 
 
 On high or stony ledge. 
 In storm, or shade, or sunshine clear, 
 
 Some song or joy our hearts shall cheer. 
 
 We find kind friends anear us, 
 
 To sympathize and plan, 
 Helping us bear our burdens 
 
 As kindly as we can. 
 And we smile sometimes, though clouds may roll, 
 
 For love and peace cheer the trusting soul. 
 
60 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 'Tis the sunshine makes the shadow — 
 
 More joy comes after pain, 
 And we cease to frown at the service 
 
 Performed again and ag-ain. 
 So we lift our hearts in thankful praise, 
 
 Por shadow and sunshine of the days. 
 
 IN THE WAY. 
 
 In the way, yes, ever and always. 
 
 I feel, with a sense of pain, 
 That trying" to do my duty 
 
 Is at last to be all in vain. 
 
 The sunlig"ht that shines throug-h the window 
 Brings its comfort and joy, and yet, 
 
 Through all the glimmer and splendor, 
 Come thoughts I can't forget. 
 
 I think of the jokes and the laughter 
 
 That arose at my expense, 
 With never a word or token 
 
 Of love, for recompense. 
 
 There must be, on this earth somewhere, 
 
 A place where I may go. 
 And, with a life all happy, 
 
 I'll freely, gladly know 
 
 That from that time forever — 
 
 No more to go astray — 
 I shall have a home of refuge, 
 
 And not be in the way. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 61 
 
 AGAIN. 
 
 Come again, sweet springtime, 
 
 With your flowers, and warmth, and glow; 
 Come to me here in this haven. 
 
 As you did in the long ago. 
 
 Did you know I was happier with you 
 
 When the birds in yonder tree 
 Sang, in the shade of its branches, 
 
 Such beautiful songs to me ? 
 
 They sang because they were happy, 
 
 I think, and they seemed so gay; 
 But the tiny things were frightened 
 
 When I stirred, and flew away. 
 
 I have no pleasant memories 
 
 Of a dear love, and whispered words 
 
 That were heard with their tender accents, 
 Only by me and the birds. 
 
 If I had, my heart would be sadder, 
 
 And I could not bear the pain 
 Of seeing the birds and the flowers 
 
 In the same loved spot again. 
 
 But you see I had no lover 
 
 To pledge his vows to me, 
 And then forsake and forget me. 
 
 While he went over the sea 
 
 To find a fairer lady, 
 
 And bask in her sunny smile. 
 Truly, I had no such lover — 
 
 I am happy all the while. 
 
62 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I love you for your flowers, 
 
 And the winds that softly blow 
 
 Over the fresh, g-reen meadows. 
 And, too, the g^entle flow 
 
 Of the little, silver streamlet. 
 
 Here in this shady glen. 
 It sing-s to me sweeter and strong^er 
 
 Than the changeful voice of men. 
 
 It seems to me I can hear it, 
 
 Ivaug-hing" in merry glee, - 
 As it goes to tell some story 
 
 To the ever murmuring sea. 
 
 I do not long for old friendships, 
 
 That were sweet when they were mine, 
 
 But lost their trust and kindness 
 When chilled by the winds of time. 
 
 But I just want the fresh, green springtime; 
 
 Then summer will come again. 
 And we shall eagerly gather 
 
 The sheaves of golden grain. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 63 
 
 AFTER SCHOOL. 
 
 CiyARA, my dear old schoolmate, 
 
 I can hardly write a word; 
 I feel so very lonesome — 
 
 Not as happy as a bird, 
 
 I dare not think of my schoolmates, 
 
 Or the old schoolroom at all. 
 For fear that in remembering-. 
 
 The bitter tears should fall. 
 
 The winds sweep over the prairies. 
 And a mist hides the light of the sun 
 
 As it creeps over hill and meadow; 
 And I, with my day's work done. 
 
 Start on my homeward journey, 
 
 Not happy, and light, and free. 
 For my life is dull and dreary — 
 
 Void of all ecstacy. , 
 
 I can't tell you about the children 
 
 Just yet, for a little while, 
 But I shall, when again I see you. 
 
 Welcome you with a smile. 
 
 So goodnight, dear friend, and God bless you; 
 
 May the future years to us bring 
 No more clouds than brightness. 
 
 In this maze of wandering. 
 
64 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 HOPE IS NOT DEAD. 
 
 L/OVE's beautiful fruition may be a transient beam — 
 A flickering" lig-ht to linger at the last; 
 
 And we may feel despairing when skies are not serene, 
 And tire of life when happy days are past. 
 
 Above the thundering tempest and warfare of the 
 w^orld, 
 Where strife, enthroned ne'er dreams of peace and 
 rest, 
 Gleams a bright star, like a flag of truce unfurled, 
 That whispers to the spirit, "God knows best." 
 
 So cheer up, lonely traveler, through every thorny 
 way 
 
 Hope gleams anew, to dispel doubts and fears, 
 And we shall find a respite — find comfort after loss, 
 
 And live again without the blinding tears. 
 
 Hope is not dead; 4t liveth, within the secret heart, 
 And hushes all the wailing and despair. 
 
 And lifts our thoughts in raptures above earth's tran- 
 sient bliss, 
 And points us to a vale all bright and fair. 
 
 GOODNIGHT, BUT NOT GOODBYE. 
 
 We say goodbye, and sad the word at parting, 
 
 As if some shadow is to come 
 Between us and the glad tomorrow, 
 
 E^re our short tasks of love are done. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS.. 65 
 
 Goodnight, but not goodbye. I linger 
 
 With lighter heart beside the door; 
 But when I hear a goodbye spoken, 
 
 I wonder, "shall they meet no more?" 
 
 Goodnight, until the day awakens, 
 And we say goodmorning as we meet, 
 
 After a season of changeful shadows. 
 Finding life's friendships doubly sweet. 
 
 Goodnight ! The twilight falls so gently. 
 
 The earth seems sinking to repose; 
 While we, with glad hearts for our labors. 
 
 Welcome the day's sweet, restful close. 
 
 Then say goodnight, while we, in life's short jour- 
 ney. 
 
 Part but to meet as time goes by; 
 But when the journey here is ended, 
 
 At the last parting say, goodbye. 
 
 A RAINY MORNING. 
 
 The morning light comes creeping through the win- 
 dows, 
 
 The barn-yard fowls proclaim the day is nigh; 
 While showery mist and sparkling raindrops hasten 
 
 To cover earth and dim the distant sky. 
 
 And I arise, with heart all glad and thankful 
 For mercies passed, and blessings yet to come; 
 
 And for this, now, that He has sent us moisture 
 To grow us food within this earthly home. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 The corn stands straighter on the southern hillside; . 
 
 E^ach flower and weed lifts up its drooping head^ 
 And gives us such a hopeful, joyous pleasure, 
 
 In knowing that at least they are not dead. 
 
 We gaze with grateful love upon the meadows 
 That crown the fruitful workings of His will, 
 
 And meekly bow as we receive His blessings. 
 
 And say, through sun and storm, we love him still. 
 
 So on they go, the bright days coming after 
 
 The showers we need to make the dark world 
 bright; 
 
 And we find life is fairer, richer, sweeter, 
 
 For this short rain that came to us last night. 
 
 'A GIFT OF LOVE. 
 
 How did you know my heart was full of pain 
 That I was longing for your tenderness 
 
 That every line you wrote, and word 3'^ou spoke, 
 Was to my soul, a balm of blessedness ? 
 
 I love the book you sent me with your love; 
 
 I deem it as a constant friend of mine; 
 I read, and read again, the precious gems 
 
 That can not help but give me light, divine. 
 
 I touch the pansies with caressing hand — 
 They mean so much to me; I can not tell 
 
 The sad, sweet memories they bring 
 
 Of that dear one I knew and loved so well. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 67 
 
 Think not, dear ones, I slighted your fond gift 
 Because the days in silence have passed by; 
 
 Thought has been busy fashioning new ways. 
 Weaving rare pictures in love's cloudless sky. 
 
 But do you think that I can write, or say, 
 E^ven in rhymed words so fond and true, 
 
 The tender love, the gentle, kindly peace, 
 
 That came to me with this sweet book, from you? 
 
 Words fail to tell you all; and deeds will fail 
 To show how much I prize it, and its worth 
 
 Is far above the rubies and the pearls — 
 It helps to make my Heaven here on earth. 
 
 I shall not try to thank you, then, at all, 
 
 But gauge your loving thoughts, girls, by my own, 
 
 And I pray that into all your lives may flow 
 A portion of the joys that I have known. 
 
 GOODBYE OLD BOOK. 
 
 GooDBYB old book, you're written through 
 With divers thoughts, some good, some ill; 
 
 And you are soiled, and old, and worn. 
 And yet, methinks, I love you still. 
 
 For you and I have been together 
 
 When all the world was lost in sleep. 
 
 You know the joys that I have known, 
 And you, too, know why I must weep. 
 
68 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I think sometimes you almost share 
 
 My griefs and cares— my days of bliss— 
 
 But out of friendship, or of love, 
 
 Our g-ladness comes at last to this — 
 
 That we must say a last goodbye; 
 
 Must leave the past, whate'er we will, 
 For if we love we must not speak, 
 
 But wait in lonely silence still. 
 
 BELATED SPRING. 
 
 The world was green but yesterday. 
 And cheery birds sang out their lay; 
 
 And warmth and light, and budding flowers 
 Made us forget our work, to play. 
 
 But in the silence of the night 
 
 Old Winter came, with footstep light, 
 
 And scattered snow with lavish hand. 
 
 And dressed the quivering trees in white. 
 
 Today the branches bend and groan 
 Beneath the weight of clinging snow, 
 
 And frightened birds flit in and out — 
 Where is the spring that cheered us so ? 
 
 'Tis interrupted in its flight. 
 
 'Twas here last night — 'tis gone today. 
 We hope old Sol will soon come out 
 
 And chase the Snow King far away. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 69 
 
 BUILDING. 
 
 I BUiLrT my hopes upon the sinking sand, 
 My ideal, but an erring human form, 
 
 And so my courage failed me ere the night 
 Had swallowed up the rosy light of morn. 
 
 Their's was the gain and mine the loss at last, 
 Though watching them was pleasure for awhile, 
 
 I know full well we should not prize too much 
 The transient merits of a friendly smile. 
 
 I walked alone, and trembling looked upon 
 
 Those climbing upward, as to some loved God, 
 
 Nor strove to find a newer broader path. 
 
 But blindly followed after, where they'd trod. 
 
 Still thinking that I, too, sometime should stand. 
 Where their feet rested on the higher ground. 
 
 My life but proved a weary sham and cheat, 
 
 While theirs, the real, the truth and beauty found, 
 
 I found the truth at last, in autumn time. 
 
 When earth her dreariest garments flaunted wide, 
 
 The raindrops pattered on the falling leaves, 
 And seemed to murmur "Lost upon the tide." 
 
 The day and my thoughts were in unison, 
 And made but discord in my puzzled brain, 
 
 While with the ever varying mood and time 
 Sought answer to that tremulous refrain. 
 
 *'0, builder wherefore linger in despair. 
 
 And pine for hopes and dreams now in the past; 
 
70 A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 
 
 Cast off thy burden— look to Him for strength, 
 And build on a foundation that shall last." 
 
 Now I am building- from the truth at last. 
 
 Cheerful and kind my life shall be alway, 
 So that my structure shall shine clear and bright, 
 
 Beneath his smile upon the last glad day. 
 
 GRANDMOTHER'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Welcome uncles, cousins, aunts, 
 
 Brothers and sisters all, 
 Welcome children and grandchildren, 
 
 And their children, great and small. 
 E^veryone is welcome. 
 
 Glad are the friends we greet. 
 Grandma smiles at the laughter 
 
 And the patter of little feet. 
 
 Tiny hands are uplifted. 
 
 Caressing the dear old face. 
 That in our hearts forever, 
 
 Shall find a resting place. 
 How many pleasant birthdays. 
 
 Grandma has known in her time. 
 Sixty-eight through shade and sun. 
 
 And today will be sixty-nine. 
 
 We hope they have all been pleasant. 
 
 Filled with joy and bliss. 
 But we know not one among them, 
 
 Can out-weigh the joy of this. 
 
A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 71 
 
 One by one have these milestones, 
 Been passed in the journey of life, 
 
 There has been some sunshine, always. 
 Some rest in the busy strife. 
 
 The flowers of g-randma's childhood. 
 
 With their sweet and rich perfume, 
 Have put on a fuller beauty, 
 
 'Neath the gleam of the sunny noon. 
 And though their hues are somber. 
 
 Since the noontide of life has passed. 
 There are still sweet peace and comfort, 
 
 In the days that g"o so fast. 
 
 Bless you grandma, God bless you 
 
 More and more as you grow old. 
 May the evening of life have dull shadows, 
 
 To mar the sunset's gold. 
 When your work on the shore is ended, 
 
 And your boat is launched on the tide, 
 May His hand gently guide you, 
 
 To your home on the other side. 
 
 WHAT SHALL THE END BE? 
 
 The sun comes up to the eastward. 
 And shines for you and for me; 
 
 The Frost King has waved his scepter 
 Over summer blossom and tree. 
 
72 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 As we go to our daily labors, 
 
 With hearts that are bond or free, 
 
 We wonder, ah! still we wonder, 
 What, at last, the end will be. 
 
 We laugfh and smile in our g"ladness; 
 
 We moan and sigh in our pain. 
 Yet life, still, still unresting-, 
 
 Calls us on to our tasks ag^ain. 
 
 So on we toil — pursuing* — 
 
 O'er mountain, and valley, and lea, 
 Thoug-h never a step in the journey 
 
 Foretells what the end shall be. 
 
 O feet, thoug-h weary with walking- 
 Since the light of early dawn. 
 
 Pause not, there shall be resting 
 After earth's light has gone. 
 
 Yes! after the fitful shadows, 
 The great glory we may see; 
 
 In Him made perfect, immortal, 
 And know what the end will be. 
 
A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. 73 
 
 A RHYME. 
 
 I HAVE sat in the vale of shadows, 
 And waited, with bitter tears, 
 
 Por the busy gleaners to bring- me 
 The fruit of the passing" years. 
 
 But I am weary of waiting- — 
 Every one has something- to do; 
 
 And he who is earnest and faithful 
 Will receive the reward that is due. 
 
 So I'll take up my burden g-ladly, 
 
 Nor murmur or complain, 
 Knowing-, if clouds surround me, 
 
 The sunshine will come again. 
 
 IN BORDER-LAND. 
 
 My heart is filled with longing- dreams, 
 O friend of mine, in memory true; 
 
 And through strange mysteries and scenes 
 I'm wandering ever nearer you. 
 
 Nearer to that fond, trusting heart 
 That beats in unison v/ith mine; 
 
 Could we but journey side by side, 
 
 We'd have no need of earth's sunshine. 
 
 O dearest one, I reach my hand 
 Across the space between us yet, 
 
 And clasp your hand so tenderly, 
 
 For hearts, we know, can not forget. 
 
74 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Can not forg-et, through changing- years, 
 With love-lig-ht always for a g^uide; 
 
 Will not forg-et — joys are too sweet, 
 
 And brighten life through storm and tide. 
 
 So heart, and love, and memory, 
 
 Still cheer, or haunt me, in life's way, 
 
 Though I must heed stern duty's call. 
 And rest not in love's shining way. 
 
 But I'll ne'er chide your presence sweet; 
 
 I welcome you as I fondly say, 
 The dreams we dream in border-land 
 
 Shall all come true, somewhere — some day. 
 
 CALLING TO YOU. 
 
 My heart calls out to you, darling. 
 Through slowly passing days; 
 
 I think and dream about you, 
 As we journey different ways. 
 
 But the stars in heaven above us, 
 With their tiny, twinkling light, 
 
 Keep guard so true and watchful, 
 As we slumber through the night. 
 
 And I know the misty shadows 
 That burden our lives today, 
 
 Shall, as we walk together, 
 Silently drift away. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 75 
 
 O darling, the way must be brig-hter 
 
 For the few kind words I send, 
 For you know my heart is lighter 
 
 For your comforting, my friend. 
 
 CARVING. 
 
 Here is the marble, rough, unhewn; 
 
 What will you choose for your design? 
 Come with a will, and plan it well — 
 
 I can not make your life-work mine. 
 
 Take time's worn chisel — just at hand. 
 
 Wait not for future light or gold; 
 But work, while yet 'tis early day, 
 
 Before your heart and brain are old. 
 
 Your hand must carve the features fine. 
 Or leave coarse, rugged lines of woe. 
 
 Another's hand might mar it all; 
 
 Your hand must work — He wills it so. 
 
 Will you have Fame? Then strive and win 
 The jewels for an earthly crown, 
 
 And, though disaster meet you, oft. 
 
 Through storm and tide, be not cast down. 
 
 Will you have Joy? Then sing and act — 
 What life means in its gladness given; 
 
 Nor pause to sigh, though misty skies 
 Come, as love's fondest ties are riven. 
 
76 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Will you choose Ivove? Then follow on, 
 Where dear, fond hands are reaching- down 
 
 To draw^ you from your lowly toil 
 
 To higher paths — to share your crown. 
 
 Will you choose Peace ? that passeth earth. 
 And tells the soul of heavenly things? 
 
 That maketh Life one long, bright day. 
 And is a balm for sorrow's stings? 
 
 Then look, and learn, and lean on Him 
 
 Who guides — upholds you where you stand — 
 
 And Who, when storms are fierce and wild, 
 Still keeps you 'neath His sheltering hand. 
 
 LITTLE GOLDEN HAIR. 
 
 The sound of tiny, restless feet 
 Made sweetest music in my home; 
 
 I guarded them with watchful care, 
 That they might never want to roam. 
 
 They will never walk in the paths of sin, 
 
 For I sit alone in the twilight dim. 
 
 The sweet voice, lisping baby words, 
 The dear hands, busy with their play, 
 
 Have been here, but the baby's lips 
 Feel not my loving kiss today. 
 
 How dreary the old home nest will be. 
 
 Since mv bird has flown awav lor me. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 77 
 
 Here's a half-worn shoe, and a little dress 
 That I made with tender, loving care, 
 
 That but remind me now, with pain, 
 That I have lost my "Golden Hair." 
 
 I cannot repress the bitter tears 
 
 As I look toward the future, joyless years. 
 
 Look toward the years that bear for me 
 So much of loss, without redress; 
 
 So much of pain and misery. 
 
 O, what can ease this loneliness! 
 
 Can anything' cheer my aching" heart, 
 
 Since the baby and I must dwell apart? 
 
 I miss the little prayer she lisped — 
 The face that nestled close to mine, 
 
 And the dear, brown eyes and golden hair. 
 That brightened those happy days of mine. 
 
 But now there is silence, still and deep. 
 
 That tells me she has gone to sleep. 
 
 My little Pet that I loved so well — 
 
 Can any other mother know 
 What it is to listen for the feet 
 
 That cannot patter to and fro' ? 
 To list for a voice, but all in vain — 
 To call, when one cannot come again? 
 
 If other hearts are sad like mine — 
 If they, too, know the pain and loss, 
 
 O help me, Father, now, I pray. 
 More patiently to bear my cross. 
 
 To live in the light of Thy love alway — 
 
 To meet her at last, where 'tis always day. 
 
78 A BUNDLE OI" TWIGS 
 
 COME AND PLAY. 
 
 You may have my box of colored silks. 
 My book with its cover of blue; 
 
 The blocks to build nice bridg-es with — 
 My hammock and rocking- chair, too. 
 
 You may take my doll with the yellow curls, 
 
 And eyes of turquoise blue; 
 She is just as loving- as she can be, 
 
 And I'll let her play with you. 
 
 You may rock Annette in the cradle swing-. 
 Or sew on the quilt for my doll; 
 
 You may hold old Tabby when you swing-, 
 If you will not let her fall. 
 
 We will drink our tea in the parlor, Bep, 
 From the dishes of gold and white, 
 
 And we will let Tabby and Towser stay, 
 If they will be very polite. 
 
 And after that we will sing- and play, ' 
 
 Or run, or romp, or keep still. 
 
 O, if you will only come play with me, 
 You may do whatever you will. 
 
 But I am lonely, and want you now — 
 Come and kiss me while I wait; 
 
 Just get your hat and leave mamma. 
 And meet me at the g-ate. 
 
 to' 
 
 Come and stay here all day long, 
 And at eve hear the crickets sing; 
 
 And the frogs will croak in the low, damp bogf, 
 And the bird with the spotted wing 
 
A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 79 
 
 Shall sit in his cage and sing- for you, 
 
 And you may rest if you will; 
 But only come and play with me, 
 
 And then I will try and keep still. 
 
 Come, little Bep, come out and play; 
 
 I love you so well, you see, 
 And if you will come, I am just as sure 
 
 That you are in love with me. 
 
 ONLY A BUNCH OF FLOWERS. 
 
 'Tis all that is left me, Katie, 
 
 To remind me of old times and you; 
 
 This bunch of faded pansies. 
 Purple, and gold, and Tblue. 
 
 The yellow has not faded; 
 
 This pansy — I think it means you. 
 Is purple with a heart of gold-dust — 
 
 A token of love so true. 
 
 Only a bunch of flowers ! 
 
 And yet, how much they tell 
 Of old-time friends and schoolmates. 
 
 Who loved each other well. 
 
 Oft will I long, dear schoolmate. 
 As I look at these withered flowers, 
 
 To be back, for a time, to that summer, 
 With its happy and sunny hours. 
 
80 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But clouds will g-ather round us 
 As we go, sometimes astray, 
 
 So that only in memory we wander 
 Back to a vanished day, 
 
 That held some sacred pleasure 
 
 We tried to keep — in vain. 
 There's a sadder chord in the music, 
 
 When we listen to it again. 
 
 I'll keep these flowers, thoug-h faded. 
 As a token of friendship true — 
 
 All that is left me, Katie, 
 
 To remind me of old times and you. 
 
 WHICH WAY IS BEST? 
 
 Morning? Ah, yes, the way is darkened; 
 
 The sweet g"lad sunshine in our home 
 Seems to have vanished, and in daylig*ht, 
 
 We think the evening time has come. 
 
 If we could tell what g-rief she might have suffered, 
 What sorrows seen upon her earthly way, 
 
 Would we, e'en in our fondest loving-. 
 Have wished our darling- child to stay ? 
 
 Stay in this world with all its bright temptations, 
 When her dear feet in childhood's sunnj^ day, 
 
 Had not begun to feel the thorns beneath them, 
 But found sweet roses only all the way ? 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 81 
 
 Is it better so ? Why question when w^e know 
 His g-entle hand doth lead us as we g^o, 
 
 Watching- the tender lambkins of His flock, 
 Because the way they cannot, cannot know. 
 
 And yet, to think we may not daily see her, 
 That our sweet blossom of fond love has g"one. 
 
 Was it that we in simple trusting- faith, 
 
 Mig-ht say to him, "We'll g-ladly follow on?" 
 
 We cannot tell; today our hearts are g-rieving-. 
 And mourning- for the baby in our home. 
 
 Scarce pausing- now to think that in His wisdom; 
 He has not left us comfortless alone. 
 
 While one sweet voice is silent as we ling-er, 
 
 A little comforter is truly ours. 
 Who, when the way is dark and long-. 
 
 Will strew our path with love's sweet flowers. 
 
 But when I see her plaything-s — tokens all — 
 Of her brig-ht self, of life and hope to be, 
 
 And then to think life's thread is broken now, 
 'Tis hard to any joy or pleasure see. 
 
 We seem to see her playing- everywhere, 
 
 We hear her voice in childish song- ring- out. 
 
 And when school closes for the day. 
 
 We hear her step and merry joyful shout. 
 
 We hear them? No, 'tis only in a dream. 
 
 The days pass on, and time is chang-ing- still, 
 While we must bear our burdens with the rest, 
 
 And take our share, alike, of g-ood and ill. 
 
82 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 We miss her thoug"li — God only knows how much 
 At nig-ht her kisses, through the day her songf, 
 ' But we still have a hope and promise sure, 
 Our journey here on earth will not be long-. 
 
 Ah soon we'll pass far out upon the tide, 
 To anchor safely on the g-olden shore. 
 
 What blissful happiness will then be ours, 
 
 To meet our loved ones there, to part no more. 
 
 WEAVING. 
 
 OlvD Time with his shuttle is weaving" today, 
 Do you hear the sound, click clack, click clack ? 
 
 While we are furnishing warp and woof. 
 In deeds of love we can never take back. 
 
 Or threads of darkness, doubt and pain, 
 That will make the shadowing, in a life 
 
 That we would have so bright and fair. 
 And so, we too, enter in the strife. 
 
 He weaves a bit here of sunshine pure, 
 
 A thread of gold it must surely be, 
 While the little threads of unselfishness 
 
 Are pearls from out the heart's love free. 
 
 Again a clouded piece appears, 
 
 Bright hopes that were marred by vain regret, 
 And the broken threads that we must leave. 
 
 We never, never can forget. 
 
A BUNDI/E OF TWIGS. 83 
 
 Yet we must be striving- day by day, 
 
 To bring- bright threads, good seeds to sow. 
 
 That when the thrums are gathered well. 
 Our web of life we'll surely know. 
 
 And count it not all dark and uneven, 
 
 If some is bright and fair to see, 
 If the Master's voice shall say to us, 
 
 "Well done, now bring thy sheaves to me." 
 
 AFTER THE SUNSHINE. 
 
 The night has come and all day I have missed you, 
 Have thought about you on your way, 
 
 Wondering if you, too, are weary — lonely. 
 This evening after this bright Sabbath day. 
 
 I thought of you as the bright morning sunlight 
 Came in its splendor through my window pane, 
 
 And sighed to think that ever for your coming, 
 Today I should be looking all in vain. 
 
 Still hope gleams on, above the lonesome hill tops, 
 And whispers low, "The time will not be long," 
 
 We all must labor, whether shade or sunshine 
 Is ours, to mingle with our daily song. 
 
 THE SAME OLD STORY. 
 
 "Come wife, let's go to meetin', 
 I think it's about the time; 
 
84 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 While I've sot here a readin', 
 
 I heerd the clock strike nine. 
 The young- folks — I s'pose they're a g6m\ 
 
 I see the girls flyin' round; 
 And the boys, them noisy critters, 
 
 I ain't heerd much of a sound 
 Prom them, so I g^uess they're busy, 
 
 Rig-g-in' themselves up rig^ht. 
 My ! my ! if I'd dressed like they do. 
 
 Wouldn't I a' been a sig-ht ? 
 But thing's is a chang-in', chang-in' — 
 
 I wonder if I'll chang-e, too, 
 And g"et a different body — 
 
 One that is strong and new. 
 Ah me ! Well, they're a comin'; 
 
 We'll g-o 'n hear the preacher a spell, 
 An' see if he'll preach sort o' decent, 
 
 Or just g-ive us pictures of hell. 
 Here's Nathan 'n Susan 'n Km'ly, 
 
 And Kate an' Billy 'n Joe; 
 Is that all, or can't I count 'em? 
 
 Why, there, yes, I ought to know. 
 There's one more — our baby, our darlin'. 
 
 Who makes more light, I've found. 
 Than the great big sun a shinin'; 
 
 And her voice is a sweeter sound 
 Than the little birds a twitterin' 
 
 And a chirpin' roun' the door; 
 Now where is the little mischief? 
 
 I've called her o'er and o'er." 
 "Why Jon'than," his wife said meekly, 
 
 "Benton Dinsmore just come by, 
 
A BUNDIvK OF TWIGS. 85 
 
 And asked our Dolly to walk with him; 
 
 'I g-uess it's all right,' said I, 
 So they are ahead of us, Jon'thau." 
 
 "Yes," he muttered, "in more ways than one; 
 If young- men must come a courtin', 
 
 Why'd they take the young-est one? 
 So that is our baby, our Dolly, 
 
 A walkin' up the street 
 With our neighbor's stylish nephew, 
 
 A smilin' on him so sweet; 
 I thought sometime she'd leave us, 
 
 But not for years and years. 
 O, to just think of partin' with her, 
 
 Fills my old eyes with tears. 
 And here is Susan 'n E)m'ly, 
 
 Older and steadier, too, 
 And Kate, she's a goodly housewife, 
 
 But it seems none but Dolly will do. 
 Well, I'll set that young feller a thinkin' 
 
 When this here meetin's through; 
 He'll find that this game o' courtin' 
 
 Must allers be played by two. 
 But then he can't mean nothin', 
 
 Surely; why 'tis only a spell 
 Since she was a toddlin' round here 
 
 A prattlin' baby talk. Well, 
 Here we are to the meetin'— 
 
 I'll hear w^hat the preacher'll say; 
 If he does what he ought to. 
 
 He'll preach a good sermon today. 
 I see Dolly a smilin' at me 
 
 From the other end of the pew 
 As much as to say, 'O daddie. 
 
86 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I'm glad you're with us, too,' 
 She's such a soft little creetur', 
 
 Rosy, and dainty, and small; 
 I suppose a feller with any heart 
 
 Must love her, after all. 
 What's the preacher a sayin' ? 
 
 Lay up your treasures in Heaven, 
 Where thieves can't break in 'n steal 'em. 
 
 And let all wrong's here be forg-iv'n ? 
 That means if a neighbor is sneakin', 
 
 Why you must be good to him. 
 And heap coals of fire on his head. 
 
 And not believe in his sin. 
 Well, I'll think it over. Preacher, 
 
 When I've been home a spell, 
 But now I'm thinkin' of Dolly, 
 
 Is she a treasure? Well, 
 I just guess she is, and a good one — 
 
 There, I'm a gettin' old. 
 And think more of my children 
 
 Than a miser does his gold. 
 But here is an end o' the meetin'; 
 
 I heerd the choir screech 
 As if Heaven is a long way off, 
 
 And mighty hard to reach. 
 I like the old-fashioned singin', 
 
 Where we all joined in the hymn, 
 And I think 'twill be union service 
 
 When we meet to sing with Him, 
 Yes, truly, times is changin' — 
 
 Do I change most of all? 
 If I do, it don't much matter, 
 
 Por Death's angel soon may call. 
 
A BUNDI^B OF TWIGS. 87 
 
 I see Dolly a comin', 
 
 A smilin' at me so sweet; 
 It won't need many in Heaven 
 
 L/ike her, to make it complete. 
 'O dad,' she says, most in a whisper, 
 
 'Wasn't that sermon grand, 
 About the treasures in Heaven?' 
 
 And she takes me by the hand 
 Just as she does every day, most. 
 
 As we g"o walkin' round — 
 When her eyes are full of mischief. 
 
 And her voice has a pleasant sound. 
 Yes, I sa}^ he preached a fair sermon. 
 
 But I like some treasures here. 
 'I know how you think, daddy. 
 
 You're such a g^ood old dear. 
 You want us all to be perfect. 
 
 Now we must be going, I guess. 
 For you're hungry, ain't you, daddy ? ' 
 
 'Yes, I am, I must confess.' " 
 "Why, John'than, what makes you so sober?" 
 
 His wife said at his side, 
 "The minister preached a good sermon, 
 
 And the music was nice beside." 
 "Yes, I know," he said slowly and gently, 
 
 "I've been thinkin' of His word, 
 And seein' my transgressions 
 
 Again' the will of the Lord. 
 An I'm goin' to forgive neighbor Hartly, 
 
 For the wrong that he has done. 
 An' I'll feel as it it pleased the Ivord; 
 
 The years so swiftly run, 
 That I'll soon be laid away to rest. 
 
 An' I want the children to know 
 
88 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 That I tried to do what was just and rig-ht. 
 
 Before I had to go." 
 "Don't talk so John'than Morley, 
 
 You know you try to be g"ood, 
 And do by neighbor an' family 
 
 Just as a christian should. 
 And they all esteem and respect you, 
 
 They know you will keep your word, 
 So don't be sad and down-hearted 
 
 At the sermon you have heard." 
 "It aint the sermon, Nancy, 
 
 That's a troublin' my heart just now: 
 But I'm a thinkin' of Dolly, 
 
 I can't give her up, somehow. 
 She is such a comfort to daddy, 
 
 An' cheers his poor old heart, 
 I don' kno' what'll ever become o' me. 
 
 If we two has to part." 
 "Now see here, my good kind John'than, 
 
 Just think when you was young, 
 Didn't you love a nice young girl, 
 
 That laughed an' played an' sung?" 
 "But — but, she was older, Nancy." 
 
 "Yes, but the youngest of the flock." 
 Then John'than grew quite sober. 
 
 He felt a fearful shock 
 Of truth and pity assail him 
 
 And his eyes again grew dim. 
 When the scenes that others pictured, 
 
 Related so closely to him. 
 "So you see its the same sweet story — 
 
 Their happy time. Life's June." 
 Yes, the same old song or story, 
 
 But — its sung to a different tune. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 89 
 
 TRUSTING. 
 
 The awakening- earth, new beauty all around. 
 Tell us where happiness alone is found. 
 The opening" leaves, the g^rass with dew o'er spread, 
 The flowering- branches beckoning- us o'erhead. 
 
 Call forth the rain, and sunshine's g-entle breath, 
 O what a resurrection after death. 
 What emblem of the life that may be ours, 
 For we shall fade, and wither as the flowers. 
 
 The Lord is g-ood and g-racious, this I know, 
 For how he g-uides my wanderings to and fro, 
 He heeds the sparrows, knows the raven's call. 
 And keeps His loving- watch-care over all. 
 
 And out of all of my rebellious past, 
 
 He bring-eth forth a messag-e sweet, at last, 
 
 That speaks of only g-ladness in a song- 
 
 Of praise to Him. The journey is not long-. 
 
 Then I shall rest with Him, in that home-land. 
 Where heart and for each shall understand, 
 No sad forboding-s, weariness or pain, 
 But a reunion with our loved ag-ain. 
 
 And shall be rest, and joy, and peace. 
 And perfect happiness, that shall not cease. 
 External bliss beyond earth's death of nig-ht. 
 Where naug-ht but love and peace g-reets heaven's 
 light. 
 
9(> A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 LAST NIGHT. 
 
 IvAST nig-lit I dreamed of Janie. 
 
 pale was she, and fair, 
 
 And she seemed to know no sorrow, 
 Or have one thoug-ht of care. 
 
 But just like the old-time playmate, 
 
 So merry and cheerful, too. 
 Sometimes I am, O so sorry, 
 
 That never a dream comes true. 
 
 Nora and I had been walking', 
 
 And came in where the lamplig-ht's g-lare 
 Showed us that vision of Janie, 
 
 With her wealth of g*old-brown hair. 
 
 She said she came over to see me, 
 
 1 was g"]ad as in olden day; 
 
 And we were so happy, not thinking- 
 That she had not come to sta3\ 
 
 We talked of our cares and pleasures, 
 
 She had her trials, too. 
 About her tasks of crocheting". 
 
 And the work that she could do. 
 
 She could not stay till morning-, 
 
 And soon prepared to go; 
 But there were no dark shadows. 
 
 Or rain, or mist, or snow. 
 
 Onl}^ the calm still autumn. 
 
 And the wondering- wind's low breath, 
 So calmly had faded the summer 
 
 That we heeded not its death. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 9f 
 
 And when she was ready to leave me, 
 
 She came and kissed me g-oodbye; 
 While outside I saw the glitter 
 
 Of stars in the distant sky. 
 
 I was not sad at the parting-, 
 
 For I thought when the morning came 
 
 We should meet again in gladness, 
 
 But the dawn showed my hoping vain. 
 
 It was only a journey to dreamland, 
 
 I had taken in the nig-ht; 
 The fair sweet vision faded 
 
 Away in the morning light. 
 
 "BE TRUE." 
 
 "This above all," from a past history ring-ing. 
 Though each may strive to execute his plan; 
 
 "Unto thyself be true," and it shall surely follow, 
 "Thou canst not then be false to any man." 
 
 Thou must be true. Ah, what an inspiration ! 
 
 What noble thoughts to mortal minds impart; 
 What pleasing rhymes of home, and friends, and coun- 
 try, 
 
 Might now arise from out a throbbing heart. 
 
 "Unto thyself !" Yes, truly, there all greatness 
 Begins, but may not end— 'twere folly then. 
 
 It must arise, like mist o'er land and ocean, 
 And kindle purer thoughts in other men. 
 
 J! 
 
9% A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS 
 
 "And it shall follow, then"— what consolation — 
 "As night the day," and day the uigfht ag-ain. 
 
 If thou feel kindly toward all fellow creatures. 
 For evil deeds thou'lt not g"ive back again 
 
 The evil thoughts deep rooted in thy nature, 
 But will, with pure and steadfast eye, yet g'ive 
 
 Hope, courage, strength, to all who smite or harm 
 thee — 
 Teach them the better, stronger life to live. 
 
 A life that wavers not at each misfortune. 
 But nobly rises from the sorrow's deep. 
 
 With calmer vision, and more peaceful being. 
 As if the time had been spent in a sleep. 
 
 "Thou canst not then be false," ah! pause and listen. 
 
 "To any man." That meaneth all mankind, 
 For if thy work be good, and pure, and earnest. 
 
 How near a nobler life, thy path thou'lt find. 
 
 I charge thee, then, to learn these words of Shakes- 
 peare's; 
 
 Kngrave them deep upon thy heart and brain. 
 And though temptation sweep o'er every landmark, 
 
 Remember them through toil that seemst in vain. 
 
 'Twill give thee strength, and faith, and renewed 
 courage 
 
 To fight life's battles^ — gain the right at last; 
 And gratitude and love through all thy being, 
 
 Will be for him who wrote them in the past. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 93 
 
 OLD TIMES. 
 
 Turn back, O years full of sorrow. 
 And bring- me the golden past, 
 When my heart was g"lad and happy, 
 And I thought every joy would last. 
 
 years, with your bitter bondage, 
 And Time, with your lines of care 
 That you're leaving upon my forehead, 
 And in my shining hair, 
 
 Could you not give me freedom, 
 
 E'en for one short day. 
 
 To review the scenes of childhood 
 
 That are now far away? 
 
 That blossomy, fruited orchard, 
 
 South of the old red gate; 
 
 How often have I sat 'neath its shadows. 
 
 Waiting for Fortune and Fate. 
 
 1 no longer dream of the future — 
 I awakened long* ago. 
 
 And said goodbye to the homestead, 
 With its blossoms of scented snow. 
 That fell, like feathery snowflakes, 
 When the budding time was o'er; 
 And the bitter tears fell quickly, 
 As I left the old home door. 
 "Old times !" how we yet love them, 
 Though others, too, may please; 
 Old faces ! how we bless them — 
 No others seem like these. 
 Kind fingers, whose firm clasping 
 Gave strength to some weak heart — 
 Why, then, in all the future, 
 Must we still drift apart ? 
 
94 A BUNDLE OF TAVIGS. 
 
 Will never the tide roll backward, 
 And bring- my boat to the shore, 
 Where I left the dear ones standing' 
 When the parting- time was o'er? 
 If not, O then may I meet them, 
 Anchored in safety there. 
 Upon the shore before me, 
 Where all is bris"ht and fair. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 Sometimes when I am sad and weary — 
 
 Tired of life's crosses and its pain, 
 I know, amid the shadows g-athering' round me, 
 
 I'll long for those dear old-time friends ag'ain. 
 
 Not for the days when first I knew them. 
 
 For I know that all the sunshine, bright and warm. 
 
 That filled the pathway where their feet had ling-ered. 
 Has vanished in the tempest of Time's storm. 
 
 I'll long" for a few kindly words to cheer me, 
 Or for the clasp of some dear, vanished hand, 
 
 So I shall know that some old friends w'ere faithful. 
 Who dwelt within that happy, chosen band. 
 
 Where then, with all their merry laug-hter. 
 Will be the g-ay young- friends I knew of old? 
 
 Will some be wandering* in outer darkness. 
 
 Or safely g-athered 'neath home's sheltering fold ? 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. *>5 
 
 I can not tell, for all the years are Hidden 
 
 From eyes that would grow weary could they see 
 
 The future 3^ears, so filled with pain and pleasure. 
 That ma}' be g'iven, perhaps, to 3^ou and me. 
 
 WAKE UP. 
 
 Wake up, little flowers, look vip to the sun, 
 
 For 3^our sleep for the winter I'm sure must be done. -U 
 
 The warm winds are blowing-, far over the hill, ■ 
 
 And the little, short g^rasses are nodding- at will. 
 
 The waters are flowing', down there in the brook, 
 
 And nature is opening- her beautiful book. 
 
 I love you, sweet blossoms — O, why will you sleep ! 
 
 Why, still in the brown house, so sheltered you keep ? 
 
 L/ook up to the sun, and g-row all the day, 
 
 And help the dear earth to look smiling and g"ay. 
 
 Come one and come all, I welcome you, flowers. 
 
 With birds and the srass and the p-entle showers. 
 
 QUIETUDE. 
 
 Under the daisies and g-rasses- 
 Under the lillies, he sleeps; 
 
 While often, in lonely silence, 
 A mourning one still weeps. 
 
% A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 The winds whisper softly above him; 
 
 The birds coo a lullaby, 
 And Nature soothes our sadness, 
 
 As the cheerful days go by. 
 
 We list to the changeful echoes 
 
 Of the moving things we see, 
 And almost wonder, in silence, 
 
 That we heed Death's mystery. 
 
 For, out of the fitful shadows. 
 
 He has passed on the narrow way. 
 
 To sleep till His call shall awake him, 
 At the last, great Judgment Day. 
 
 Then shall he share the gladness 
 
 Of a love that is all in all, 
 Though no more can he be with us — 
 
 He has gone beyond recall. 
 
 The sunshine g'leams through the branches, 
 
 The gxasses nod and bend, 
 And we know that His care will sustain us, 
 
 Who loves us to the end. 
 
 Thank God for the rest and the silence 
 That have crowned a life so dear; 
 
 We shall journey on to meet him, 
 Though he could not linger here. 
 
A BUNDIwE OF TWIGS. 97 
 
 A SUMMER SONG. 
 
 The breezes sig-h through field and grove. 
 The clover tops are bending- over, 
 
 All thing's are whispering- g^lad and g3.y. 
 But where are \"ou, my truant lover. 
 
 Where indeed, throug-h the long-, long- day, 
 When Nature's wealth toward us is tending-, 
 
 Fills and enriches all the earth, 
 
 And sing-s sweet sbng-s that seem unending-. 
 
 The crickets chirp, the wild birds call, 
 The g-rasses nod, and wave and quiver, , 
 
 While early leaves are sifting- down 
 Upon the bosom of the river. 
 
 I listen to these sounds, nor heed 
 
 The war of strife that man is making". 
 
 Toiling- to win his daily bread. 
 Oft failing- in the undertaking. 
 
 O summer, sing- your sweet g-lad song-s, 
 And cheer the heart of each fond rover, 
 
 We all shall hold your memory dear, 
 When the bright summertime is over. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 , 1 LOOK out on the gathering night. 
 Through a wavering snow}'^ mist. 
 On the tall trees bare and brown, 
 That all dav the winds have kissed. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TAVIGS. 
 
 And I see the river flow 
 
 B}- the banks so sullen and black, 
 And a drift of snow where at morn 
 
 Was a narrow icy track. 
 
 Ah me! is one sorrow hidden 
 
 In all the mist and storm? 
 Do the poor g^o thinly clad, 
 
 And need a fireplace warm? 
 
 I think of the chill of life's winter, 
 The shadows and toil and fear; 
 
 Then I ponder on the gdadness. 
 
 That will come with the brig'ht new year. 
 
 A SABBATH DAY. 
 
 Heaven's own beautiful sunlig'ht 
 Is flooding the earth with lig'ht, 
 
 Wag-ing* war with the frost king", 
 Who was reveling- here last night. 
 
 A thousand diamonds g-listen 
 
 Where his brush, like an artist's wand. 
 Has made rare, fanciful pictures 
 
 All over this wintry land. 
 
 The trees stand tall and stately, 
 Nalvcd, and bare, and brown, 
 
 Robbed of their summer verdure — 
 But are snow- wreathed for a crown. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 ♦>9 
 
 The snow lies, white and restful. 
 
 In roug"h, unev^en ways, 
 With rifts of lig-ht and shadow — 
 
 A marvel as we g*aze. 
 
 The calm and restful silence 
 
 Fills all the holy day. 
 With nauo'ht of earth's discording s 
 
 To take the J03' away. 
 
 Dear Lord, forg'ive our transf>"ressions — 
 
 Help us to rightly pra}''; 
 Give us of Thine abundance 
 
 Of gladness, da}^ by day. 
 
 Keep us as Thy dear children; 
 
 Help us to understand 
 The way we are to follow, 
 
 Ived by Thy g-uiding hand. . 
 
 And may joy and blessed thanksg^iving- 
 Out from this Sabbath flow, 
 
 Like the peace of a benediction. 
 If Thou dost will it so. 
 
 LIFE IS SHORT. 
 
 IviFE is too short for repining. 
 
 Or to fret at ever}^ ill. 
 Be a man and battle bravely. 
 
 And smile in the world's face still. 
 
KM) A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 If some shall choose to scorn you, 
 
 Be thankful they notice you; 
 And if they are bitter, work harder 
 
 To prove that their words are untrue. 
 
 Don't stop to idle a moment — 
 
 Make the most of your talents and time. 
 Get nearer the ideal standard — 
 
 Keep striving- to make life sublime. 
 
 Be up and be doing-; be faithful; 
 
 Keep a watch on your actions, too, 
 For the world takes note of your movements, 
 
 And is ready to prove you untrue. 
 
 Yes, life is too short to be wasted — 
 
 Too precious to idle away; 
 So keep up, with courag'e unaltered, 
 
 To the duties you find round your way. 
 
 Then never pause for the pleasures 
 That lure you away from the rig"ht, 
 
 But keep to the straig-ht road before you — 
 
 Do vour best in your streng"th and your mig'ht. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 My life has lost some of its shadows. 
 The clouds are drifting away; 
 
 And I'm thinking- and fondly dreaming-, 
 As I sit in the twilig-ht g-ray — 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 101 
 
 Dreaming" of days now vanished, 
 That held real joys I knew; 
 
 And now my boy is with me, 
 Loving-, and kind, and true. 
 
 My boy ! God knows how I've missed him, 
 
 Throug-h many a weary day. 
 How I long-ed to hear his footstep. 
 
 When I knew he was far away. 
 I hope he will never leave us, 
 
 For we are g^etting- old and gray; 
 Kre many years have vanished. 
 
 We, too, shall g^o away. 
 
 My boy, so grand and king"ly — 
 
 So loving" now to me — 
 Good, and kind, and cheerful. 
 
 Just as he used to be. 
 The flowers will bloom more brig^htl}^ 
 
 When the springtime comes ag"ain, 
 And my heart vs^ill feel more peaceful, 
 
 And lose some of its bitter pain. 
 
 Now that our boy is with us. 
 
 To cheer us throug"h all the g"loom. 
 His presence, so brig-ht and cheerful, 
 
 Makes sunshine in every room. 
 So today I am fondly dreaming- 
 
 Of my boys — their lives and mine. 
 And throug"h my brooding fancies 
 
 There comes a mellow chime 
 
102 * A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Of merry bells, all ringing- 
 
 In a sweet, low undertone. 
 They seem to tell me g-ladly, 
 
 "Wish you joy, 3^our boy's come home." 
 Come home to the friends who love him — 
 
 Come home and come to sta}-; 
 To do his rig-htful duty — 
 
 Gladlv, now, alwav. 
 
 RECOMPENSE. 
 
 The world was hidden in shadows. 
 
 The children had g'one away. 
 And it seemed that nothing" but discord. 
 
 Came to fill the Sabbath da^^ 
 
 My heart was full of rebellion, 
 
 I could not sing', I said, 
 When hope was g'one, and the flowers 
 
 Of pleasure were withered and dead. 
 
 Then throug'h the open window 
 
 Came the sound of a blessed hymn. 
 
 And m}^ heart throbbed with latent gdadness, 
 And my eyes with tears were dim. 
 
 And a calm fell on m}' spirits, 
 
 Ivike a shield of true defence. 
 And I felt that for every trial 
 
 His love was a recompense. 
 
A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 103 
 
 VIOLETS. 
 
 IviTTivE blue flowers abloom in the grass, 
 
 I stoop to greet you, as lig-htl}^ I pass. 
 
 You Avaken old memories and cheer me toda3^ 
 
 I would I might keep you as lovely alway. 
 
 But I know you'll be weary, at setting" of sun, 
 
 For then you'll be nearing" the race you're to run. 
 
 But you are so dainty and beautiful, too, 
 
 I think you are tokens, of love fond and true. 
 
 I g-ather a bunch of your blooms blue and white. 
 
 And kiss you and clasp you with gfleeful delig-ht. 
 
 If shadows are coming" I shall not despond, 
 
 For 3'OU teach me lessons of g'ladness beyond. 
 
 Look Up to the sun and smile and be free, 
 
 For surely you're happy when 3^ou are with me. 
 
 I love you and hold you agfainst ni}^ warm cheek, 
 
 You gladden my heart thoug-h there's no need to speak. 
 
 beautiful flowers abloom in the g^rass, 
 
 1 seek you for comfort, each da}^ that I pass. 
 
 A VISIT FROM THE FAIRIES. 
 
 The long- nig-hts pass. 
 
 The chang-eful days g-o by; 
 The soft breeze, whispering-, tells to me 
 Some story sweet. 
 
 That I still love to hear — 
 A key to unlock the unknown world to me. 
 
104 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And I can see, 
 
 As countless throng-s come near. 
 The fairy folks, so quaintly clad; 
 Their eyes ag-low 
 
 With love's pure, radiant lig-ht — 
 They are so happy, every lass and lad. 
 
 I sit and dream, • 
 
 And v^atch them as theyg^o. 
 On some sweet deed of charity intent; 
 They sing- to me 
 
 The notes, so sweet and low. 
 That all my life seems teeming- with content. 
 
 And then they come. 
 
 Draw near to my low chair, 
 And in a chorus say to me, 
 "We'll take your cares. 
 
 That you have borne so long-. 
 And g-o and fling- them all into the sea." 
 
 "We'll take your tears, 
 
 And all your doubts and fears 
 And scatter clouds that lie so close to you; 
 And you shall be 
 
 As free and g-ay as we. 
 Just say we may, and you will find 'tis true." 
 
 "What ! Take my tears ? 
 
 And every g-rief I've known, 
 And leave me joy alone, alway? 
 May I not keep 
 
 One fond, sad memory 
 Of a dark g-rief that came to me one day?" 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS, 105 
 
 With saddened mien, 
 
 And voices murmuring low, 
 They turned and left me. O'er and o'er 
 I call, in vain — v 
 
 They will not come again^ — 
 They've turned the key inside the charmed door. 
 
 And now I know 
 
 That I may hug my grief — 
 May pray for patience, love, again; 
 Though hope is gone. 
 
 Yet life were too near Heaven, 
 Were we to lose the bitterness and pain. 
 
 I AM GLAD WE CANNOT SEE. 
 
 I AM glad we cannot see the shadows 
 That lie so darkly round our way, 
 
 That send their darts of pain and power. 
 Athwart our lives like ocean spray. 
 
 I am glad we do not know what sorrows 
 Await us on the morrow's dawn; 
 
 Perchance our weary feet would stumble. 
 Have no new strength to journey on. 
 
 I am glad a veil divides the future 
 And present, that our eyes may rest 
 
 Upon the scenes that lie before us; 
 God wills it so, and it is best. 
 
106 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 We may not tear aside the curtain 
 
 That shields the unknown from our sig*ht, 
 
 'Twere added pain to our dull vision, 
 
 To strive ag-ainst His streng-th and mig-ht. 
 
 So I am g-lad that we may trust Him, 
 May find safe shelter 'neath His wing; 
 
 That we may come and seek His blessing-s 
 In all our earthly wandering's. 
 
 APPRECIATION. 
 
 "I ivOVE my mamma the best," said Ned, 
 
 As he laug-hingly shook his sunny head. 
 
 "I love her the best as you will see, 
 
 I think she's as g-ood as she ever can be. 
 
 She lets me spin my top on the floor, 
 
 And does not scold at the open door. 
 
 She finds my cap and mittens for me, 
 
 And g-ets my kite from the maple tree. 
 
 She mends m}^ pants when the boys all laug-h, 
 
 And she taug-ht me to feed the brindle calf. 
 
 She poulticed my fing-er when it was hurt. 
 
 And brushed my clothes when I fell in the dirt. 
 
 When grandpa went home and didn't take me. 
 
 She kissed and comforted poor little me. 
 
 She makes the best cookies under the sun, 
 
 And she lets me eat 'em just for fun. 
 
 Yes, I know there was never a mother so good, 
 
 Now wouldn't you have her if you could?" 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 107 
 
 ABSENT ONES 
 
 The change has come at evening", 
 
 The shades have darker g-rown 
 Since I've journeyed back, and remember 
 
 That I must walk alone. 
 
 The trees have lost their verdure, 
 
 The flowers have dropped their leaves; 
 No more the swallows twitter g 
 
 Beneath the drooping- eaves. " 
 
 How silent is the woodland ! 
 
 The brown leaves rustle long-, 
 And sadden all the landscape 
 
 Of nature's cheery song-. 
 
 Down by the dear, old brooklet 
 
 I sit awhile to rest, 
 And list ag-ain, in memory. 
 
 To the voices I love best. 
 
 They come in pleasant cadence. 
 
 Whispering- soft and low ; 
 Cheering- this restless spirit 
 
 With their mirth of long^ 'ig'O- 
 
 But I ne'er shall see the faces 
 
 Of those dear ones I knew; 
 Still I shall ever cherish 
 
 Their memor3% warm and true. 
 
 And that will brig-hten the pathway 
 
 To joys and hopes unknown, 
 Where all the darkening- shadows, 
 
 Into fullest lig-ht have g-rown. 
 
108 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 A GLAD NEW SONG. 
 
 In bursts of song* my happy heart 
 
 Finds its relief of melody, 
 And throug"h the passing- hours I trace 
 
 The soul's sweet notes of harmony. 
 
 Over the fields a lone bird comes, 
 On g^entle wing, in quest of food, 
 
 While patiently the mother sits, 
 
 Watching- the remnant of her brood. 
 
 O calm, still air; O summer song; 
 
 O songster's notes that fall so free; 
 Bring all your peacefulness to bear 
 
 On this blest summer day to me. 
 
 I'll sing with you; nor let a doubt 
 Lodge like a shadow in my breast, 
 
 But listen to the bright, new world. 
 Knowing for aye, His waj^ is best. 
 
 'TIS BUT A DAY. 
 
 Ring out, O joy-bells, with a gladsome measure; 
 
 Bid all the earth be free, and glad, and gay. 
 And all shall don their robes of peace and splendor, 
 
 For this must be a festal memory day. 
 
 I send you this in token of remembrance. 
 
 For joys that have been — hope of joys to be; 
 
 Though many boats with time's rich fruitage laden, 
 May never pass upon life's changing sea. 
 
A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. 109 
 
 I write these words, this pleasant summer even, 
 To let you know that in this home-like spot 
 
 Sweet memories are cling-ing, aye, and resting, 
 That seem to whisper low, "Forget me not." 
 
 Forget you not ! Ah yes, we will remember. 
 
 Through all, but just the happiest, sweetest things; 
 
 And ne'er will we regret the days now vanished, 
 For joys still come, though borne on tardy wings. 
 
 'Tis but a day that saddening thoughts shall grieve 
 us, 
 
 And then comes sweetest rest, the silent night; 
 When we forget our cares, and dream in slumber. 
 
 Until the dawning of a newer light. 
 
 'Tis but a day that here our work is given, 
 To bear, and do, and patiently live well. 
 
 We sow the seed, then wait the rain and sunshine; 
 But what the harvest. He alone can tell. 
 
 'Tis but a day; then, nevermore the parting, 
 
 In silent sorrow, as our loved ones go, 
 While we, in vain, wait for their kindly greeting; 
 
 Our loneliness their hearts can never know. 
 
 'Tis but a day, and then the absent, missing, 
 (We miss some who, on earth, are very near) 
 
 Shall meet together with a glad rejoicing. 
 In perfect love, that casteth out all fear. 
 
 Then, birthday bells, ring out in tuneful measure — 
 We count not time as you go passing by; 
 
 For joy will rise above all earthly sorrows. 
 
 And hope's bright sun shine on in pleasure's sky. 
 
110 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 MY LOVER. 
 
 O, HE is the dearest old darling-, 
 So gentle, and fond, and true; 
 
 I am sure if you only knew him, 
 You could not help loving* him, too. 
 
 So cheerful, he is, and unselfish^ — 
 He bring^s me rare gifts every day; 
 
 The days are so sad and lonely. 
 Whenever he g"oes away. 
 
 He is brave to encounter all dang^er, 
 And g'aily laug-hs at my fears; 
 
 And when I am troubled, my lover 
 Just kisses away all m}'' tears. 
 
 He is eager to please and assist me. 
 With hands ever willing- and free; 
 
 And when we can share our misfortunes, 
 We're as happy as happy can be. 
 
 I have learned to trust and adore him; 
 
 I willing-ly come at his call. 
 He tells me sometimes, O so gently. 
 
 In sweet tones, "I love you «//. " 
 
 "I think you are such a g-ood gfirl, 
 
 To do kind thing's for me." 
 I say, "Because yo/^ are so loving-," 
 
 And we are both happy, you see. 
 
 Yes, he is my prince among princes. 
 
 As gfood and as pure as g-old. 
 His love is true and unselfish, 
 
 My lover not quite four years old. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. Ill 
 
 CONTENT. 
 
 The day is wearing on apace, 
 The western sky is all aglow. 
 
 The tree tops touched by varying breeze, 
 Are gently swaying to and fro. 
 
 I hear the sighing of the wind, 
 
 And watch the pigeons in their flight. 
 
 And see content in every scene 
 
 Of nature's beauties, clear and bright. 
 
 BLINDNESS. 
 
 It was a nice mornings in summer. 
 
 The birds sang their songs of glee, 
 As they followed each other blithely 
 
 From the limbs of the maple tree 
 To the rose bush under my window, 
 
 Where the sweet-scented flower bloom. 
 Came, like a breath from heaven. 
 
 And perfumed my darkened room. 
 
 I could not see their beauty, 
 
 But they felt fresh on my hand, 
 And helped me to be patient 
 
 And better understand 
 Why this cross to me was given 
 
 To carry a little while; 
 I should love my darlings better. 
 
 When again I saw them smile. 
 
112 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And yet there has been repining, 
 
 Sometimes in this little room, 
 When my heart was very heavy 
 
 And all seemed deepest g-loom. 
 Then I'd hear the chirp and twitter 
 
 Of the little birds at play, 
 And that would drive my heartache 
 
 And mournfulness away. 
 
 And, though my eyes grew misty, 
 
 Oft times as I longed to see 
 If the old home all around it, 
 
 Was just as it used to be. 
 I knew in the blessed future, 
 
 The scales from eves should fall. 
 If in patience I did His bidding, 
 
 Who knoweth best, after all. 
 
 SOME DAY. 
 
 Some day, ah me, some sacred time, 
 When lillies bloom and joy-bells chime, 
 Will you come back, lost one, to me. 
 With all your old sincerity ? 
 Lost! did I say? It is not so. 
 If you were mine I'd not say "go;" 
 But I say, lost (just lost to me) 
 Because your face I no more see. 
 No more clasp loving hands and say, 
 We will be true and kind, alway. 
 You never would be true I know, 
 
A. BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 113 
 
 For you could never love me so; 
 You could not feel the faith and hope 
 That, always, need no larger scope 
 Than a warm heart to love and bless, 
 And a peaceful home's own sacredness. 
 Into all lives the darkness falls — 
 Dread shadows that the soul appalls — 
 And saps the life-blood from the brain; 
 And tasks our lives beyond the strain- 
 Can we w4th g-entle patience say, 
 " 'Twill end ere long-, 1 know, some way? " 
 O life is full of strang-e, sad scenes, 
 
 flig-hts of fancy — foolish dreams; 
 And we may hear their tones, I say, 
 In memory's cords of Yesterday. 
 My heart has known its song- of woe. 
 Its flowers of mirth, that bud and blow; 
 
 1 thoug-ht I could be g-lad and g'ay. 
 If you came back to me, some day. 
 
 GROWING OLD. 
 
 There are white threads in your hair, dear, 
 And your once fair brow, I see. 
 
 Has some shadowy wrinkles in it; 
 Are you happy as can be ? 
 
 Do you find the way all beauty ? 
 
 Do you find love's roses, too, 
 Clambering- over ledge and highway — 
 
 Roses blooming, sweet, for you? 
 
114 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Does your heart get weary, sometimes, 
 
 At the tardiness of fate? 
 Do you learn of some sweet g^ladness 
 
 That was meant for you — too late? 
 
 Do you feel the chill of shadows, 
 As the years around you creep ? 
 
 Do you need a hand to aid you, 
 
 When you're toiling* up the steep? 
 
 Ah ! dear one, I think you falter, 
 
 As your journey you pursue; 
 You have missed the fairest blessing's — 
 
 You've refused some g-ladness, too. 
 
 Yes; I know the years move slowly. 
 And at times there's pleasant weather: 
 
 Yet, the joys of life are lessening". 
 But — we will g-row old tog*ether. 
 
 So I say, if dreams are fading- — 
 
 If illusions cannot last. 
 If some sacred trust was chosen. 
 
 And relinquish in the past, 
 
 We can read from the same pagfes 
 Through a mist of tender tears. 
 
 All the records kept in memory 
 Of the once brig^ht happy years. 
 
 For I, too, feel time's oppression — 
 Feel the chill of wintry weather. 
 
 But we have this consolation — 
 We are growing- old tog-ether. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. , 115 
 
 OUT OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 Out of the night the soft winds came, 
 
 Tenderly, 
 And sang- to me in a gentle strain, 
 
 L/Ovingly, 
 Of the happy friends I love so well, 
 
 Sincerely, 
 On thoughts of them I love to dwell. 
 
 Dearly. 
 Out of the night the day awoke, 
 
 Light-gemmed ; 
 I looked on the bright, new world, and spoke: 
 
 "O Friend, 
 Who reigns above in joy and lig"ht. 
 
 Fervently, 
 We raise our hearts in love's delight. 
 
 Ardently." 
 
 AT TWENTY-FIVE. 
 
 Today is my twenty-fifth birthday 
 And the tide of life ebbs and flows, 
 
 Carrying upon its bosom, 
 
 Pleasures and pain as it goes. 
 
 At twenty I thought life a failure, 
 And all hopes only a dream, 
 
 But five years of earnest endeavor 
 Have made the poor past only seem 
 
116 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I/ike a wavering- light for a beacon. 
 Where the careless feet may tread, 
 
 While today so strong-ly invites me, 
 That I steadily look ahead, 
 
 To a clearer lig-ht shining-, and fancy 
 I see the blest dawn of success. 
 
 While peace and contentment abiding-, 
 How sweetly and gfladly they bless. 
 
 Uprising- o'er every temptation, 
 The way to the rig-ht I behold, 
 
 While ring-ing- through all of my musings, 
 Comes the story that never grows old. 
 
 A tiresome world? This we live m? 
 
 If we look at the stormiest side, 
 And never once search for the sunbeams 
 
 That reflect golden light on the tide. 
 
 For clouds will always be thickest 
 Where we look for them here below. 
 
 We may find g'ood in every creature, 
 If the good we want to know. 
 
 And this is a part of life's labor, 
 To seek for the good and the pure. 
 
 That happiness and contentment 
 For ourselves we may insure. 
 
 The notes I've been singing are stronger 
 Than the ones I sang last year. 
 
 And the words of hope are sweeter, 
 I am happier, never fear. 
 
A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 117 
 
 My story is hardly ended, 
 But the time creeps on apace, 
 
 And as the world still grants us 
 A home and resting- place, 
 
 I must work for the good and honor 
 Of the dear ones toiling here. 
 
 For my life has some light of gladness 
 For each day of this pleasant year. 
 
 A PICTURE. 
 
 They came up through the crimson-lighted west, 
 The happy maiden and her kingly knight, 
 
 Free-hearted, gay, and unaware. 
 
 That life held aught of care or blight. 
 
 So proud he looked, as if the world were proud, 
 
 To call him heir to its estate,- 
 As if success for him were mete; 
 
 In tardiness it should not wait. 
 
 And she, my loving, true, sweet girl, 
 So sunny tempered, free as summer air. 
 
 Her life one perfect holiday 
 
 Of joy and peace without a care. 
 
 Both dear to me; both good and fond and true. 
 May they with love, g^o hand in hand alway, 
 And ever through love's rainbow, shadow-kissed, 
 Find hope's clear light in fairy land of day. 
 
118 A BUNDLE UF TWIGS. 
 
 A VIOLET'S SONG. 
 
 Here in the quiet wild wood 
 
 In pleasant joy I bloom, 
 Where there's never a shade of sadness, 
 
 Or sorrow, or dreary gloom. 
 O come, ye sorrowful children, 
 
 And when this nook you've found, 
 Where there is only beauty, 
 
 And no harsh g-rating- sound. 
 
 You wmII be cheerful and happy 
 
 All the livelong- day. 
 And never think of the autumn 
 
 Of your life, as time flys away. 
 The merry birds are sing-ing- 
 
 Their pretty songs of gflee. 
 Then come and find sweet comfort. 
 
 Here in this home wnth me. 
 
 NOT ALONE. 
 
 We cannot live to ourselves alone. 
 
 In this world of toil and sorrow, 
 For the help that we g-ive and the joy that we get, 
 
 Are more than the trouble we borrow. 
 
 We cannot work for ourselves alone — 
 
 So many are needing assistance; 
 We must smile, and sing, and comfort bring. 
 
 In the face of all resistance. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 119- 
 
 We cannot see for ourselves alone; 
 
 Others are failing- — stumbling-; 
 We must let our lig"lit shine clear for them. 
 
 Without repining- or g-rumbling-. 
 
 Ah me ! we think, so selfishly, 
 
 If we need not work for others 
 What sig-hts we should see — how happy we'd be- 
 
 In not caring- for sisters or brothers. 
 
 But g-entler thoug-hts must g-uide our lives; 
 
 We must ever and ever be doing-, 
 Seeing- the fairest, and sweetest, and rarest — 
 
 Only the g-ood pursuing-. 
 
 CARED FOR 
 
 I AM g-lad you are safe-sheltered 
 
 In the tender love and care 
 Of home's clear lig-ht and sunshine, 
 
 That make life bright and fair. 
 
 I am thankful that true friendship, 
 Like the g-entle, swaying- leaves. 
 
 Twines around your heart and memory 
 Like a happy dream that cleaves. 
 
 Your feet, dear, will never weary 
 Of the tiresome paths in life, 
 
 For the pleasant ways they traverse 
 Are not near the storm and strife. 
 
i:W A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Yes, the love of those about you 
 Keeps you free from every harm, 
 
 While you still lean confiding-ly 
 On His sustaining- arm. 
 
 SILENT CORDS. 
 
 I TOUCHED the harp in musing- mood, 
 But it g-ave no answering- tone; 
 The sweet old notes I loved so well 
 Had now forever flown. 
 The chords were silent at my touch— 
 Ah me ! I prized them overmuch. 
 
 PANSIES. 
 
 O PRECIOUS fateful pansies, 
 
 How dear you are to me! 
 What old fond memories waken 
 
 When your faces sweet I see. 
 
 You are almost speaking-, pansies, 
 You are fresh, and bright and fair. 
 
 And when I g-aze upon you, 
 My life forg-ets its care. 
 
 You recall some happy moments, 
 Some peaceful summer days. 
 
 Some loving- friends and dear ones 
 Who have g'one in different ways. 
 
A BUNDIvi: OF TWIGS 121 
 
 But though their g-entle faces, 
 
 I cannot really see. 
 You bring them nearer, pansies, 
 
 In a sacred memory. 
 
 I look upon you fondly, 
 
 Though the tears cannot but start; 
 And a love for your rare beauty 
 
 Fills all my earnest heart. 
 
 Yet, how, through the long summer, 
 
 The first since she went away. 
 Can I bear life without her? 
 
 We used to be glad and gay. 
 
 My heart is aching often 
 
 For her look and gentle tone. 
 And yet I know her gladness 
 
 Is greater than I have known. 
 
 And pansies, you make me remember — 
 
 I see it all again — 
 The road over which she journeyed. 
 
 Freighted with hours of pain. 
 
 But you brought her such rich pleasure, - 
 Far more than I could tell — 
 
 Can there be any fairer flowers 
 Where vanished spirits dwell? 
 
 If, out of our earthly sunlight, 
 
 She needs must walk alone, 
 I am glad that you are left us, 
 
 To bring hope to our home. 
 
122 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 L/ift Up your pure sweet faces 
 And bloom for us alway. 
 
 As messeng-ers of beauty, 
 To cheer us day by day. 
 
 April 30, 1892. 
 
 A MESSAGE. 
 
 Today, if I had known that you were weary. 
 
 Tired of life's fitful sun and storm — 
 Ivong"ing" for a day that is not dreary, 
 
 And the shelter of a home all brig-ht and warm; 
 
 If I had known your heart was aching*, long-ing-. 
 
 For kind words from the friends that you have left, 
 
 And pictures of the dear and lovingf faces. 
 Of which you now so sadly are bereft, 
 
 I would have sent you loving- words to cheer you; 
 
 To g"ive you couragfe as your road extends 
 Farther away from all that is familiar: 
 
 Have written you that we will still be friends. 
 
 Come back again to those who miss you sadly — 
 Who listen for your footsteps, all in vain; 
 
 Come back to help and cheer them as time ling-ers, 
 F'en thoug-h you lose a tithe of wealth and g-ain. 
 
 The years will bring you gladness, rich, unmeasured. 
 
 In caring for these dear ones here, I know; 
 Then come once more and cast your lot among them, 
 
 And cease your restless wandering to and fro'. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 123 
 
 REMEMBERED. 
 
 While the fleeting- years are folding- 
 
 Your life in the mantle of time, 
 Thoug-h some of the way be dreary, 
 
 Void of sweet sunshine. 
 You say you will remember, 
 
 The scholars you leave today, 
 And think of them with kindness 
 
 When you are far away. 
 
 Sometimes when we sit in the shadows, 
 Away from the light of the sun. 
 
 And are dimly hoping-, wishing-, 
 That the race will soon be won, 
 
 When the pleasant dreams of morning- 
 Are wrapped in evening-'s g-loom. 
 
 And we w^eep for youth's g-ay spring-time 
 That has vanished all too soon. 
 
 The advice of an absent loved one, 
 
 Given in kind words and true. 
 Will g-uide us in our weak judg-ment. 
 
 And g-ive us a work to do. 
 Something- to keep us busy, 
 
 Something- to strive for and win. 
 Idleness is a tempter 
 
 That leads to ruin and sin. 
 
 There are many things you have told us. 
 To help us do what is right. 
 
 We will ever tednerly cherish. 
 The words you have said tonight. 
 
124 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Borne on the wings of memory, 
 
 They will come with the earnest tone, 
 
 That will have lost none of its sweetness, 
 Though many years have flown. 
 
 You remember the least among us, 
 
 What a comfort that will be. 
 When we are faint and discouraged, 
 
 Adrift on a boundless sea. 
 Ivike strains of sweetest music, 
 
 Your words will come again, 
 Freighted with deeper meaning 
 
 Than they held for us then. 
 
 No more in the dear old schoolroom. 
 
 Shall we see your smiling face; 
 And it seems wrong to us someway 
 
 For a stranger to take your place. 
 But we will never forget you, 
 
 Wherever you may be. 
 With your life as example 
 
 Of truth and sincerity. 
 
 We shall strive to remember your teachings, 
 
 And keep our lives good and pure, 
 For whatever the seed time. 
 
 We know the harvest is sure. 
 If some have been neglectful 
 
 They will gather withered leaves. 
 But steady and faithful endeavor 
 
 Will give harvest of golden sheaves. 
 
A BUNDI^B OI" TWIGS. 125 
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 Ambition makes us blindly soar 
 Beyond the present time and deed, 
 
 Neglecting", in our eager haste. 
 To sow with care the tender seed. 
 
 The springtimes pass, unnoticed, by; 
 
 We're eager for the summer's heat. 
 We chase the hours of changeful time, 
 
 With ever restless, careless feet. 
 
 We, like the poet fond, have thought. 
 By our ambition's glorious flight. 
 
 To soar beyond the common world, 
 And revel in undimmed delight. 
 
 But 'tis a cheat, I know full well. 
 
 That leads us far beyond our strength; 
 
 And how'er rough the road may be. 
 
 We'll strive to traverse its whole length. 
 
 Some day kind reason — patient still. 
 Will lead us back to friends and home; 
 
 Content to do our own work well, 
 
 Though we should gain no earthly throne.. 
 
 UNREQUITED. 
 
 We went to school together, he and I, 
 
 When summer leaves were changing by the frost, 
 
 And some days, filled with idleness and mirth, 
 Counting by earthly time, for us, were lost. 
 
126 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I thoug-ht he was so kind, and g"ood, and true; 
 
 No prince or king- could ever g^rander look, 
 As he, with ever thoug-htful air, bent low 
 
 Above the pag-es of his well read book. 
 
 She never noticed where he chanced to be — 
 
 Near her in study, or in joyful play, 
 But spent her time, aside from study hours, 
 
 With friends whose youthful hearts were lig-ht and 
 ^ay. 
 
 'Tis passing- strangle, and yet 'tis strictly true; 
 
 (As he who strives will reach his journey's end) 
 Today she's proud and happy as his wife, 
 
 While I am greeted only as a friend. 
 
 BY THE STREAM. 
 
 I HEAR the murmuring' waters at my feet, 
 
 In the quiet stream scarce moving" from its bed, 
 I see the tiny fishes dart about, 
 
 The g-olden sun is all around o'er head. 
 
 • 
 
 A few steps farther up the shaded heig-hts 
 I hear the sound of waters g*urg"ling- low, 
 
 And nearer in the hedge's sheltering- leaves. 
 The twittering- birds flit in the softened g-lov^^. 
 
 The water, clear as crystal, sparkling- bright, 
 
 Comes tumbling- o'er a rocky moss-g-rown ledg-e, 
 
 Where we may look, with keen and rapt delig-ht, 
 From out our cool retreat in leafy hedge. 
 
A BUNDLrE OF TWIGS. 127 
 
 Ag-ain the foam in tiny bubbles rolls 
 Away, to vanish in the quiet stream. 
 
 There's scarce a ripple, where they gently meet 
 The laug"hing waves, kissed by the stray sun- 
 beam. 
 
 The scattered stones all silent lie in wait, 
 Lapped by the circling- of the lulling- tide. 
 
 And all earth seems a quiet resting- place, 
 A paradise of bliss, and naug-ht beside. 
 
 The tall dead grasses, nodding- in the stream. 
 Are lig-htly touched, and gently sway and bow, 
 
 By the soft south wind, that tenderly 
 Caresses nature's fading- verdure now. 
 
 GOODBYE. 
 
 Dkarest, I did not mean to wound you — 
 I did not mean to ever do you wrong; 
 
 I hope that all the pain that I have caused you 
 Will vanish as the seasons pass along. 
 
 My heart is heavy as I linger, darling, 
 
 In the old home where we should happy be; 
 
 But you misjudged my deeds and actions, surely, 
 And brought no peace or happiness to me. 
 
 So now goodbye, I know you do not love me; 
 
 Why need I fill my heart with deep regret? 
 If you will not forgive I still must labor, 
 
 And — if we tr}^ I know we can forget. 
 
128 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 A CALL FROM DEATH. 
 
 But this we know, when summer's ended, 
 The nodding- fields of ripened grain 
 
 Must all have been cut by the reapers. 
 Before the springtime comes agfain. 
 
 Aud when the chill of death's dark winter 
 Takes some dear loved one from our fold, 
 
 'Tis but a sheaf that He is needing- 
 From out the harvest's ripened g-old. 
 
 Thus life and death are ever blending- 
 In all times as the bud and flower. 
 
 Some are made ready for the reaper 
 And early greet life's evening- hour. 
 
 OUR GRANDMA. 
 
 We fold the dear dead hands 
 
 Over the silent breast. 
 And weep to see them so, 
 
 Thoug-h it means a perfect rest. 
 How can we leave them there, 
 
 As the long days come and go, 
 When they once clasped ours fondly, 
 
 With a warmth we loved to know. 
 
 And that kind loving face — 
 The lips that ne'er will say 
 
 A loving word to greet us. 
 As in the past glad day. 
 
A. BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 129 
 
 When gathered closely round her, 
 
 We heard her gentle tones, 
 That brought so much of sunshine 
 
 In many of our homes. 
 
 So quiet now and silent 
 
 Are the lips we oft have kissed; 
 Will she know that we are lonely. 
 
 That her presence we have missed ? 
 But the days and nights still linger. 
 
 And we know she is not here, 
 Every footstep but re-echoes 
 
 That grandma is not near. 
 
 And O, 'tis sad to lose her, 
 
 So cherished by us all, 
 Must all our dear ones leave us. 
 
 As autumn leaflets fall ? 
 Yet in trusting His promise, 
 
 We may be truly blest, 
 'Come unto me ye that labor 
 
 And I will give you rest." 
 
130 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 WE SHALL MEET. 
 
 MeTHINKS that sometime we shall meet ag-aiii, 
 To journey o'er the roug-her paths together; 
 
 Up rugfged heigfhts — in lowly vales, 
 
 Cheerfully in every change of weather. 
 
 Once more your smile for me will lig-ht ag'ain 
 The face that has g-rown calm these later years; 
 
 And these sad eyes of mine, throug'h watching long", 
 Shall cease to fill with bitter, blinding- tears. 
 
 The passing- years but dim the distant gleam 
 Of fame, ambition, that did shine afar; 
 
 And we today strive nobly — not in vain, 
 
 To keep in view the steadier light, Hope's star. 
 
 And so, while we are changing with the years. 
 In spite of all, I still will call you mine, 
 
 For I have faith that we shall meet again, 
 To dwell together in a sunnier clime. 
 
 SIGHING OR SINGING. 
 
 The earth is glad toda}^ for those who labor, 
 
 Rich treasures bringing. 
 And we are journeying on our way — 
 
 But are we sighing or sing'ing? 
 
 The sun smiles out in all his glittering splendor, 
 
 His gold down-flinging; 
 And we, to make earth dark or fair. 
 
 Are sighing now, or singing. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 131 
 
 Go on your way, kind friend, and cease repining, 
 
 Joy — hope, upspringing*; 
 So darken not your neighbor's way 
 
 B}^ sighing, but come singing. 
 
 Do well the work God gives you in His kindness- 
 Be not to old hopes clinging; 
 
 Fresh wells of truth are rising near. 
 In sweetest tones low singing. 
 
 The morning fair is full of Heaven's beauties; 
 
 The bells anear are ringing, 
 And all is bright, and glad, and gay, 
 
 When we are not sighing, but singing. 
 
 UNFORGOTTEN. 
 
 Dear friend, with your blighting sorrow. 
 
 Perhaps the words I say 
 Will not ease your grief or sadness. 
 
 Or drive e'en a shadow away. 
 
 But I think of you so often — 
 
 How lonely, sometimes, you must be; 
 
 And how dark the currents of trouble. 
 That flow in life's foaming sea. 
 
 I have wondered how I could help you. 
 
 For it seems to me all in vain 
 To think of giving you comfort. 
 
 Or rest from the bitter pain 
 
132 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 That you feel when you think of the loved one, 
 Whose boat has passed on to that shore, 
 
 While yours is left here, strugg^ling-, 
 In the sound of the billows' roar. 
 
 But I send you this token of friendship, | 
 
 Of sympathy, warm and true. 
 If you need a friend in your trouble, 
 
 Be sure I will come to you. 
 
 TO CARRIE F. WHEELER. 
 
 How sweet are the words you have written. 
 That bring- back the days of the past, 
 
 And the dreams of our joyous youth-time. 
 That were far too fair to last. 
 
 The dim, misty veil of the future 
 
 Lies between this and long- ag-o; 
 We forg-et our former blessing-s 
 
 In the weight of our present woe- 
 Such deep, tender thoughts and feelings, 
 
 As your words tell in rhyme, 
 Give to the earnest reader 
 
 Great sorrow, or bright sunshine. 
 
 I thank you for words you have written. 
 Deep-freighted with meaning so true; 
 
 I would that I, too, might write something 
 That would give as much pleasure to you. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 133 
 
 NEVER AGAIN. 
 
 Never again, in all the dreary future,. 
 
 Will one kind word of comfort come to me 
 From those whose boats I cast out-drifting-, ' 
 
 Upon life's stormy troubled sea. 
 
 I know that now they all are safely anchored 
 
 In rest unbroken on the other side, 
 While I, by ruder winds am driven. 
 
 Almost a wreck, upon the changing- tide. 
 
 Never ag"ain, will one dear hand be lifted, 
 
 To help me when the clouds obscure the way. 
 
 Gone once now and forever, is the splendor 
 
 That brightened my sad life for one short day. 
 
 MY OLD SWEETHEART. 
 
 The letters that you wrote me, love, 
 
 (Long, long ago when when we were young. 
 When we were gay and glad and free, 
 
 And with light hearts, words jesting flung,) 
 I lay upon the burning coals. 
 
 And watch the red blaze brightly shine. 
 With no sad tears to know that these 
 
 Were once your treasures, love, and mine. 
 
 I smile as flames rise higher now, 
 
 They bring no fond dreams of the past. 
 
 The joys we knew were very sweet, 
 But who would want them all to last ? 
 
134 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Ah me ! I did not hope for that, 
 I looked for brig'hter days to be; 
 
 But you are married no^\^ they say, 
 And father of g-ood children, three. 
 
 I do not care, I will not weep, 
 
 For Time with all his chang^ing* ways. 
 Has broug-ht me onlj^ purest joys. 
 
 And all througfh life, just sunny days. 
 Yes, love and peace have dwelt with me. 
 
 Within the home I love so dear; 
 My heart is filled with thankful praise 
 
 For blessing's sent year after year. 
 
 For, dear, I call you husband now, 
 
 And my fond love I do not smother. 
 For our sweet children Roy and Bess, 
 
 And little Janie, call me mother. 
 And that is why these letters old, 
 
 I lay upon the coals today, 
 With no sad thoug"hts for their sweet past, 
 
 For 3^ou are with me all the way. 
 
 MY FRIEND AND I. 
 
 'TwAS Christmas Kve in the city. 
 
 And the churches were brig-ht and warm; 
 
 There were bounteous fires, and comfort, 
 To shelter all from the storm — 
 But mv friend and I. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 135 
 
 We stood outside in the pathway 
 That lead to the old church door> 
 
 Where once we had been welcomed, 
 But were welcomed there no more — 
 My friend and I. 
 
 We stood with feet aweary, 
 
 And eyes with tears made dim: 
 
 And, thinking- of all the brig"htness. 
 I turned and said to him: 
 
 "Don't it seem as if He is in there — 
 
 The g^lory shines so clear ? 
 I wish He was, and would stumble 
 
 Upon us, standing- here — 
 Outside the gate. 
 
 Then I guess a share of the pleasures 
 That are scattered everywhere, 
 
 Would be given to you and me, friend; 
 Then our burdens we'd gladly bear 
 You, friend, and I." 
 
 But see, the presents are going — 
 Let's wait till they are through 
 
 Giving, and maybe, Jamie, 
 There will be one for you — 
 If it is late. 
 
 But no ! now the tree is empty, 
 And the people are ready to go. 
 
 Leaving us, poor and watchful. 
 With a bed and a cover of snow — 
 My friend and I. 
 
136 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Perhaps, in the dawn of morning', 
 The sunshine will be so brigfht 
 
 That we will feel like singing-. 
 
 And not mind the cold of tonig-ht — 
 My friend and I. 
 
 We'll watch for the g-ood Lord Jesus, 
 
 And when we see Him pass by. 
 We'll call Him, and He will help us— 
 My friend and I. 
 
 THE SAME OLD SONG. 
 
 With your birthday g^ladness I send to you, 
 
 Kindly wishes, fond and true. 
 
 As springing- grasses and fragrant bloom, 
 
 Set all our hearts with joy atune. 
 
 We meet and greet with kindest thought, 
 
 And welcome the day with its mission fraught. 
 
 True, life has cares we can't forget, 
 
 And restless hours that tire and fret. 
 
 And some rude seasons seem all wrong, 
 
 'Tis then we come with the same old song. 
 
 "Cheer up, cheer up, be glad and gay, 
 
 'Twill be all the better tomorrow," I say. 
 
 So welcome the sunshine and the rose. 
 
 Welcome the rest at the daylight's close. 
 
 For over the hills we see again, 
 
 A fairer sky and a greener plain. 
 
 There is joy and hope and peace we know, 
 
 And love for those who onward go. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 137 
 
 The flowers talk and the trees can think, 
 And they lure us away from perilous brink. 
 And we see sweet life in everything — 
 From the waving- grass to the birds that sing. 
 So today if the time seems long to you, 
 And you think life has a thought untrue. 
 And everything goes half way wrong. 
 Just ask me to sing you the same old song. 
 
 AT NOONTIME. 
 
 I HEAR the wind creep through the latticed window, 
 And sigh and shriek as if in mortal pain; 
 
 But no entreating can pursuade me ever 
 To take up e'en a moment his refrain. 
 
 The noonday sun shines brightly on the tree tops. 
 Yet warns us that the day will soon be gone. 
 
 So we must learn to prize the flying moments, 
 Nor wish for them again when they are gone. 
 
 The cheerful acts of childhood gleam about us, 
 Making the darkest places feel their light — 
 
 Making us bear our journey all the better, 
 And cease to dread the coming of the night. 
 
 The wild birds sing their happy tuneful praises. 
 With cheery glee the earth-world echoes back; 
 
 And we are singing too in words and actions, 
 And find of pleasure and of joy, no lack. 
 
138 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Then blow ye winds of mirthfulness and sadness, 
 Telling- of balmy days and stormy weather; 
 
 We like your voice, you are a dear companion, 
 In all life's ways we'll journey on together. 
 
 Sing" on, O birds, and teach us in your g-ladness 
 To give more praises unto Him above. 
 
 And fill this poor life while we yet may ling-er, 
 With blessedness of kindly deeds and love. 
 
 A LOST ROSEBUD. 
 
 Dear Lord, I know 'twas but a tiny bud, 
 Scarce used to fitful winds and storms, 
 
 But it was cherished, O so tenderly. 
 Within the shelter of these arms. 
 
 I've had bright dreams of the dear flower so fair. 
 
 That was to blossom out of this; 
 And now no more the sweetly smiling lips. 
 
 Give back to niine an answering kiss. 
 
 Did I too fondly love and cherish it, 
 And guard with a too jealous care, 
 
 The fair, frail flower I loved so true and well, 
 Who greater blessings now shall share ? 
 
 Ah, my sad heart cannot be patient yet. 
 
 Will not cease aching for the lost. 
 That might have felt rude winds at times, 
 
 But now will ne'er be tempest tossed. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 139 
 
 CROSSING THE BRIDGE. 
 
 Over the g-urgling river 
 
 The bridg-e stretched, gloomy and black, 
 While a silver snake in the moonlight. 
 
 Lay the gleaming railroad track. 
 
 There were no boats on the water, 
 But the yellow lights from the shore 
 
 Sent a sickly gleam through the darkness 
 That shrouded the city o'er. 
 
 I heard the drip of the waters, 
 Where the ice had broken away; 
 
 And it made me shudder and shiver, 
 And long for a streak of day. 
 
 The wind, mad with frost and fury. 
 Swept round the curve to my right. 
 
 And I thought that a kindly shelter 
 Would be a welcome sight. 
 
 The waters lapped aud gurgled, 
 
 With a horrid, surging sound, 
 And my brain conjured awful terrors, 
 
 As the wind wailed with mournful sound. 
 
 O for a hand to aid me ! 
 
 O for a face I knew! 
 Then down through the iron trestle. 
 
 The wind like an eagle flew. 
 
 Then again the waters gurgled, 
 And splashed against the shore, 
 
 As I reached the end of the pathway, 
 That would welcome my feet no more. 
 
140 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And into the lig-ht and gladnessj 
 The glow of the world again, 
 
 I hurried on in the silence, 
 To the busy haunts of men. 
 
 But still through the long night watches, 
 
 Came the sullen undertone 
 Of the dripping, splashing river. 
 
 And its burden and saddened moan. 
 
 LISTENING TO THE RAIN. 
 
 O, RAIN, I hear you falling, 
 In a rushing, restless tide, 
 
 And I welcome your gladsome music, 
 As I sit by my fireside. 
 
 Splashing and pattering, tumbling- 
 
 Into the winter snow; 
 O careless, rollicking rain drops, 
 
 I love to hear you so. 
 
 Now steadily down-pouring, 
 And pit-patter on window pane, 
 
 But close shut in by the fire-light, 
 I listen to your refrain. 
 
 Now softly and low you are singing. 
 Now loud in the rush of the wind, 
 
 Then peaceful and deep and restful. 
 Comes a tone all loving and kind. 
 
A BUNDLE OI" TWIGS. 141 
 
 Nig-ht rain, I greet you gladly, 
 
 Winter will soon be o'er. 
 And flowers that drink in your showers 
 
 Will spread the green earth o'er. 
 
 A CHILD'S THOUGHT. 
 
 Clare stood by the breakfast table 
 
 And quietly, quaintly said 
 Of the sunbeams, "see the white shadows 
 
 Falling on papa's head." 
 
 I HAVE GIVEN UP MY DREAMS. 
 
 O DARK has been the pathway 
 
 Where faltering feet have trod, 
 And weak has been the faith sometimes 
 
 That kept me nearer to God; 
 But now I wonder calmly 
 
 Beside His cooling streams 
 For, 'mid earth's changing seasons, 
 
 I have given up my dreams. 
 
 What are these dreams, but pleasures 
 
 Untasted of this world ? 
 A snare for the unwary, 
 
 A banner wide unfurled. 
 
142 A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 
 
 So while I look about me, 
 So much of life but seems, 
 
 And, for a bright reality 
 I give up all my dreams. 
 
 We are but tiny creatures, 
 
 To do His will at best — 
 The great reward awaits us 
 
 To enter in his rest. 
 To linger — drink forever 
 
 From His life's cleansing streams, 
 No more earth's fading brightness, 
 
 No more of idle dreams. 
 
 O wonderful salvation, 
 
 O peace beloved of God, 
 Well worth the weary climbing. 
 
 Or scourging with the rod. 
 To reach that bright Forever, 
 
 Where nothing ever seems, 
 To dwell in bliss eternal. 
 
 Beyond the land of dreams. 
 
 THE SUMMER SUN. 
 
 Welcome, O summer sunshine. 
 Dotting the hills with gold; 
 
 You make life so bright and joyous, 
 I think time will ne'er grow old. 
 
 The flowers are happy and smiling; 
 The children laugh and run. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 143 
 
 And I think that life's best duties 
 Are only just begun. 
 
 The rippling* fountains murmur 
 
 In silvery undertone, 
 And reflect each passing object 
 
 With a beauty all their own. 
 
 The joy-bells chime in rapture 
 At the brightness life may hold; 
 
 For darkness is turned to daylight 
 When the Sun King scatters gold. 
 
 Then leave us not, O sunshine. 
 
 But cheer us day by day, 
 Until earth and its pleasures 
 
 Shall forever fade away. 
 
 QUESTIONING. 
 
 And must it be that weary days shall pass, 
 And no fond greeting break the silence dim ? 
 
 No loving words to cheer my darkened life. 
 No Present, like the Past has been ? 
 
 The world moves on, and my tasks must be done; 
 
 Greater perhaps, if no love comes to cheer. 
 The grass is just as green, and flowers as sweet, 
 
 Though all shall cease to smile for me this year. 
 
 Must I, through all the merriment and glee, 
 Crush out the longing in my heart today, 
 
144 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And play the part of one who knows no ill, 
 Although my loving* friends are far away? 
 
 'Tis only hope that keeps our sad lives pure, 
 And bids us labor, though our lips are dumb; 
 
 That tells us, after grief, and pain, and loss, 
 Sweet peace and happiness at last shall come. 
 
 Then, bird of hope, sing on within my heart. 
 Nor let me sigh for pleasures — earthly dross; 
 
 But live, and be, and labor all for Him, 
 Bearing full well and patiently, my cross. 
 
 TOGETHER. 
 
 We have climbed the heights together, 
 
 Through every shade and sun. 
 We are near our journey's ending, 
 
 Our work will soon be done; 
 We have been happy ever, 
 
 Cheering each other's heart. 
 Knowing life would be darker 
 
 If we should drift apart. 
 
 Soon we shall rest together. 
 
 In life's declining day. 
 Quietly watching the sunset, 
 
 As the last light fades away 
 L<eaving a golden shadow 
 
 Out-lined against the sky. 
 As silently will our lives, dear. 
 
 Fade, too, as the time goes by. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF twigs! 145 
 
 Leaving perhaps behind them 
 
 Not much of the golden light, 
 That makes our time here pleasant, 
 
 If we only use it right; 
 Yet some one may be watching 
 
 For the good seed we have sown, 
 Always together, darling. 
 
 Never, ah never, alone. 
 
 Sit nearer beside me, darling. 
 
 The light is growing dim. 
 Help me here in the twilight. 
 
 Sing the evening hymn; 
 Trusting in Him who guides us 
 
 When we come nearer home, 
 Hoping to reach it together, love. 
 
 Never to be alone. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 Join hands with the month of roses. 
 
 Under the leafy trees. 
 Naught but rest and contentment 
 
 E'er come to you near these; 
 Sing a glad song as the fragrance 
 
 Of roses sweet come to you, 
 Twine them into a garland 
 
 Of peaceful friendship true. 
 
146 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 IN THE TWILIGHT. 
 
 The whip-poor-will sings in a mournful tone, 
 But I see a light like a streak of gold 
 
 In the western sky, beyond the groves, 
 And I do not heed the chill and cold. 
 
 There are gentle whispers in the trees, 
 And, nearer, the crickets chirp and cheep. 
 
 As though they love the night the best, 
 And do not want to go to sleep. 
 
 The doves are cooing near my door — 
 The children cluster about my knee, 
 
 And in the purpling lights and shades, 
 I am just as happy as I can be. 
 
 welcome, quiet, restful hour; 
 
 I cease from care, and jarring note, 
 And listen to the subdued tone 
 
 That comes from night bird's joyous throat. 
 
 1 clasp the baby to my breast, 
 
 And sing a soothing lullaby. 
 While the last faint light of the dying day 
 Sinks 'neath the shadows of the sky. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 147 
 
 SABBATH DAWN. 
 
 After the storms of the night, 
 
 The light of the morning came, 
 And we felt the blessed peace 
 
 That comes through the Father's name; 
 And the sunlight was fair and sweet— 
 
 And the clouds all fled away; 
 And once more we felt the joy 
 
 Of a perfect Sabbath day. 
 The sun kissed the laughing waves; 
 
 The wind tossed the leaves about. 
 And the children came out to play. 
 
 With many a merry shout. 
 The birds sang their sweetest songs, 
 
 As they flew from tree to tree, 
 And all of the gray, old world 
 
 Was as happy as it could be. 
 
 TURN ON THE SUNLIGHT. 
 
 Arb you down in the valley doubting — 
 
 In the cloudlands of despair, 
 Where there's never a blossom of comfort, 
 
 To perfume the leaden air? 
 
 Have you' felt the scourgings of sorrow ? . 
 
 Has death darkened your pleasant home ? 
 Do you feel that God has left you, 
 
 And you must walk alone ? 
 
148 A BUNDLrE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Is the darkness of hopeless long'ing' 
 
 Filling your heart today? 
 Then turn on the beautiful sunlight, 
 
 To chase the shadows away. 
 
 Climb till you reach the headlands, 
 And gain Hope's towering height; 
 
 You will find new strength and vigor 
 In the gospel's glorious light. 
 
 Draw near to God; He will help you; 
 
 He cares for the weak and frail. 
 Seek refuge in believing — 
 
 His strength alone can prevail. 
 
 Then turn on the sunlight, christians- 
 The sunlight of His dear love 
 
 That comes like a benediction 
 Of blessings from above. 
 
 And let naught but love and gladness 
 Abide in your heart for aye; 
 
 For God's sunlight will ever scatter 
 The evils that throng your way. 
 
 Step out on his faithful promise 
 
 Of his never failing care; 
 His guidance will ever keep you 
 
 In Life's journey, everywhere. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS 149 
 
 A STORM. 
 
 'TwERE foolishness, and sin, to call it anger, 
 
 This throbbing- motion in my heart; 
 Yet if 'twere grief, I should be sad and quiet. 
 
 While gentle tears would from my eyelids start. 
 
 Anger or grief, it matters not, in substance 
 The answer to them both, is one, the same. 
 
 In letting present pleasures shape my duties, 
 I have lost sight of that for which I came. 
 
 I have scorned and lost the comfort of the blessings, 
 
 In seeking for a higher, clearer light, 
 Have learned that he who humbly stoops to conquer 
 " Is he who in the end shall win the fight. 
 
 'Tis hard to yield? Ah yes, I know the meaning 
 Of that short sentence, in more ways than one; 
 
 But if we yield, the foe is never conquered. 
 Though warfare for the right is well begun. 
 
 How will it end. My weary brain seems striving 
 To form an answer, as the days pass on; 
 
 Why let my boat drift idly with the current. 
 Until all hope of anchor, rest, is gone. 
 
 I can not tell, I grow so sad with longing 
 To do the right, and find a haven sure, 
 
 Where no ill wind of passion, pride or malice, 
 Can 'taminate the sacred and the pure. 
 
 soon I hope to welcome your sweet coming, 
 O friend of mine, sincerest of them all, 
 
 1 fain would hear your gentle voice in answer. 
 When I, so weak and lonely, faintly call. 
 
150 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 My sill lies in the knowing", and not doing-, 
 
 Of those thing's which must be the best and right, 
 
 Making the way now full of thorns and discord. 
 Where once my heart content, found sweet delight. 
 
 But now, good night, dear one, I would not grieve 
 you 
 
 With sad repinings — bitter thoughts to you — 
 Telling more of storm and tempest ever. 
 
 And how, sometimes, I fail to be quite true? 
 
 I hope that none of this will cast a shadow, 
 
 E)ver upon a life I love so well. 
 Good night: may God's rich blessing rest upon you; 
 
 We'll leave the future, for He doeth well. 
 
 DEARER THAN ALL. 
 
 When I sit in the waning shadows. 
 
 After my work is done, 
 And review the tiresome duties 
 
 With sad heart, at set of sun, 
 
 Through all my idle dreaming. 
 
 Like the fragrant breath of a flower. 
 
 Comes to my wearied senses 
 The scene of a vanished hour. 
 
 And new courage comes with the memory — 
 
 Hope rises, glad and free. 
 And brings back the song-w^ords of friendship, 
 
 That you sang one day to me. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. I5l 
 
 And I shall tenderly cherish 
 Your memory, day by day, 
 
 And that will aid me ever. 
 To keep in a sunny way. 
 
 My boat, sometimes, may be drifting 
 
 Over the angry foam; 
 Away from the loving faces 
 
 Of the friends that I have known. 
 
 But may a strain of that music 
 
 Over the waters come. 
 To guide me back to their friendship, 
 
 As a wanderer is guided home. 
 
 MY TREASURES. 
 
 They are laid away in my bureau drawer- 
 My treasures, so sweet to keep; 
 
 Though sometimes as I look them o'er. 
 They make me sigh and weep. 
 
 Here in a little box I find 
 
 A braid of auburn hair; 
 In another place, a piece of work 
 
 That was left, unfinished, there. 
 
 , A bracelet, woven of shining hair. 
 That her loving hands begun; 
 
 But they were clasped in their last rest 
 Before the task was done. 
 
152 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 There are many things I've treasured here — 
 
 Precious and dear to me; 
 I will guard them always with loving- care, 
 
 Wherever I may be. 
 
 ONLY A CHILD. 
 
 Yes, only a child they call me, 
 With plaints and fit and fears; 
 
 Only a child with odd fancies, 
 And days of clouds and tears. 
 
 A child to be loved and petted. 
 Or scolded as one thinks best. 
 
 Hurried hither and thither. 
 Never a time for rest: 
 
 'Tis well they cannot fathom 
 The depths of my tender heart; 
 
 'Tis well they know no reason 
 For me to sit apart 
 
 From the group of merry children, 
 
 Singing in joy and glee. 
 Playing a part of life's drama. 
 
 Half hidden in mystery. 
 
 Can a child's heart ache and quiver 
 With pain of griefs untold ? 
 
 Can an outcast ever sorrow 
 For a loving- arm to enfold ? 
 
A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 153 
 
 O, deep are the hidden waters 
 
 That with ever ceaseless flow, 
 Are changing the lives of the children, 
 
 Whose thoughts we may not know. 
 
 O, sad are the hours that linger, 
 
 In dreary times at best. 
 When the heart is panting — longing — 
 
 With its burden of unrest. 
 
 When even mother's letters, 
 
 A message from home so dear, 
 Cannot blot out the dull scenes nearer, 
 
 Does not check the falling tear. 
 
 Ah me, it is well that the children 
 Do not tell all the hopes they possevss. 
 
 It is well the gay world is unheeding 
 Their grief and loneliness. 
 
 Yet they have a blessed promise, 
 
 His chosen ones are they. 
 Where they meet Him, all sorrow shall -vanish, 
 
 And sighing flee away. 
 
 IN AFTERTIMES. 
 
 These: hands of mine, dear, need such tender clasping; 
 
 These quivering lips, such tender kisses sweet, 
 And I have need of aid to find a pathway 
 
 For these poor faltering, stumbling feet. 
 
154 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And every day I miss your kind low voice, love. 
 The gentle whispering's that seem, 
 
 (As I think back upon them, dearest,) 
 But the mere semblance of a dream. 
 
 And now throug-h seasons' chang-ing- lig-ht and shadow, 
 
 Thoug"h I your deeds of love no long^er see. 
 My heart is g^lad and thankful that some dear one. 
 
 In long" past days has kindly cared for me. 
 I had not thoug^ht so far into the future — 
 
 That we should meet, and shortly part ag'ain — - 
 But e'en the joy we knew in that fond friendship 
 
 Made full atonement for the parting pain. 
 
 Ivast nig"ht, dear friend, as I was journeying- homeward, 
 
 Watching- the shadows 'mid the wavering* trees, 
 I g-ladly breathed the cool air moisture-laden, 
 
 That came to me on every passing- breeze. 
 The rustling corn, low murmuring- as the moonbeams 
 
 Shone on the leaves, half drooping from the frost, 
 As if the beauty they then wore was borrowed, 
 
 And all their sweet life liberty was lost. 
 
 The stalks stood up like sentinels on duty. 
 
 With bayonets half bent, in dim array; 
 With just a bit of their old silver brightness. 
 
 Where on the leaves the moonbeams' gleaming lay. 
 I watched it all, the thick low shrubs and branches, 
 
 Some hidden in the blackness of the night. 
 While others seemed so beautiful and friendly. 
 
 Wearing a smile of welcome in the light. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 155 
 
 I watched them, dear, and thought strange things about 
 you, 
 
 Wondering if you would like to see these scenes, 
 Or if grave, wiser thoughts, your brain would ponder. 
 
 Than fancied visions, seen through stray moonbeams. 
 I almost think they're like our friends in earthworld, 
 
 Who sometimes cheer or freeze us with a smile. 
 And some grown old with toil, and pain and sorrow, 
 
 Are still our loving friends, dear, all the while. 
 
 In aftertimes, will we sometimes remember 
 
 These friends, and scenes, and lights that come and go? 
 If we in happier times gain newer friendships. 
 
 And fairer lovelier scenes shall learn to know? 
 Yes, love, when we no more shall daily journey, 
 
 Near these familiar things to which we cling, 
 Shall we recall each kind and loving friendship. 
 
 As through strange scenes we're ever wandering? 
 
 In aftertimes? Ah me! My absent darling. 
 
 In aftertimes our hearts may need to bless 
 The kindnesses, the love, the simple pleasures, 
 
 That we have known in friendship's blessedness. 
 But now, good night: I leave you to your dreaming 
 
 Sweet fancies, dear, that sometime may come true. 
 Still in His love, and live well in the knowing 
 
 That through all ways, He careth well for you. 
 
156 A. BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 
 
 THE WIND. 
 
 The wind is a rollicking- jolly old soul, 
 
 And a jolly old soul is he, 
 He calls for the frost, and he calls for the sun, 
 
 No fear on the earth knows he. 
 
 He shrieks through the trees, all brown and bare, 
 
 He rattles the windows in glee. 
 And laughs in his might at the creaking signs, 
 
 And the restless waves of the sea. 
 
 He climbs the mountains, for frolic and fun. 
 
 He bends the flower heads fair, 
 And hurries away over valley and plain, 
 
 And we hear of his pranks everywhere. 
 
 Sometimes, when he goes, all nature is still. 
 
 And everything rests for a spell. 
 When he quickly returns with a rush and a roar. 
 
 We know his voice full well. 
 
 And now, what is that he is rattling so. 
 
 What now can be the matter? 
 O what a horrid wind again. 
 
 With his gay wild songs and clatter. 
 
 Once you are welcome, O changeful wind, 
 
 When the summer grass is waving, 
 And the heated brows of the working clan, 
 
 With lavish hand you are laving. 
 
 Yes, come to us then, with your cool sweet breath, 
 
 To kiss the heads of the clover. 
 But please be quiet, and rest you now, 
 
 Till the wintry snows are over. 
 
A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 157 
 
 ROCK OF AGES. 
 
 "Rock of ages cleft for me," 
 
 O blessed words of truth and love, 
 Giving- hope to you and me. 
 
 Blessed promise of life above; 
 The sweetest words my heart can know, 
 
 Iveave them to me for I love them so; 
 Sing- them, sister, to me again. 
 
 For they rid my life of its weary pain, 
 And bring sweet comfort and sense of rest, 
 
 Rock of ages, forever blest. 
 
 KEEP IN LINE. 
 
 Thk world is a living picture 
 
 Of beauty, and strength, and love, 
 
 Teaching us, in its workings, 
 Of our Father who is above. 
 
 Are the children leading the nation ? 
 
 Followers are we to be. 
 In the all important questions, 
 
 And the nation's perplexity ? 
 
 And shall we be left in the marching — 
 
 Shall we forget the .time ? 
 And, though we are needed in battle, 
 
 Shall we fall out of the line? 
 
 Shall we, while the ranks are passing, 
 Stand aside like a useless train, 
 
 While millions of faithful soldiers 
 March on, over hill and plain? 
 
158 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Or shall we awake with the nation — 
 
 Gird on our armor, and go; 
 Pill up the vacant places, 
 
 And the strife of the conflict know? 
 
 Dear friends, we must march and labor — 
 We must strive for the gfood for all time, 
 
 In this busy world about us; 
 
 We must still keep step in the line. 
 
 Ivook above, to the sunlig-ht of heaven; 
 
 God loves us, and He is Divine; 
 So never give up in the strugg-le — 
 
 March onward, and keep in line. 
 
 THERE ARE BRIGHTER DAYS BEYOND. 
 
 The; sunshine is coming* after 
 The tempest of wind and rain; 
 
 There are glorious heights of gladness 
 Beyond the sodden plain. 
 
 There are days so full of pleasure; 
 
 There are nights so full of calm; 
 There is peace that shall anoint us — 
 
 Make us feel its healing balm. 
 
 There are eyes so true and tender 
 That their light shall beckon you 
 
 On to right, and strength of purpose,. 
 And your faltering hopes renew. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 159 
 
 There are lives so full of meekness 
 That your own a shame shall prove, 
 
 With its bitter strife and hatred; 
 There are lips that gently move, 
 
 And invoke a tender blessing* 
 On the wayward and the strong; 
 
 There are friendly hands to aid us. 
 Reaching out to make us wrong. 
 
 God, in all of His great wisdom. 
 
 Has provided everything, 
 E^ven though our hearts are restless, 
 
 And our lips refuse to sing. 
 
 He has added joy and blessings — 
 
 He has sent his angel bands 
 To surround — encourage — save us. 
 
 In the dreary, desert lands. 
 
 Let us not repine in sorrow, 
 
 But to his glad light respond; 
 Leaving chidings — seeking gladness. 
 
 For there' re brighter days beyond. 
 
 ON BOTH SIDES OF THE DOOR. 
 
 I HEAR the clock on the mantle, 
 
 Ticking the hours away; 
 And I'm resting me here 'neath its shadow, 
 
 After a beautiful day. 
 
160 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I hear a low murmur of voices 
 On the other side of the door, 
 
 Interming*led with ripples of laughter — 
 To the right I hear a snore. 
 
 So I know one is resting" in slumber, 
 While two are spooning" away, 
 
 In the June-time of Love's gladness. 
 Too bright to vanish away. 
 
 I wonder if they are as happy 
 On that other side of the door, 
 
 As we two, who sit here in silence. 
 Dreaming life's pleasures o'er. 
 
 O what can they be discussing, 
 To prolong the hours so late, 
 
 The gay cavalier, Mr. Denny, 
 
 And his dear little sweetheart, Mate. 
 
 The time flies swiftly, unheeded. 
 When those two are together; 
 
 Of what do they talk so often — 
 
 Is it love, or the world, or the weather? 
 
 Ah me ! 'Tis an unsolved problem, 
 That we long have pondered o'er; 
 
 But we think we are happier this side. 
 And they — -on that side of the door. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 161 
 
 A COMPLAINT. 
 
 They say I must write an essay, 
 
 Or at least a composition; 
 Perhaps I migfht do both, 
 
 If I had the disposition. 
 But first, there's a subject to find; 
 
 Do you know of one that is lost ? 
 Or else I must borrow one— 
 
 I must have one, at any cost. 
 
 Some have written on "stepping stones," 
 
 Others on "g-ood old times;" 
 One has told of his travels 
 
 In fair and sunny climes. 
 "Silent tears" and "g^oodbye," 
 
 Were written on long ago; 
 And even "perseverance," 
 
 And also "beautiful snow." 
 
 "Books" and "education," 
 
 And the subject "reading," too. 
 Have been given to the public. 
 
 So what can a person do? 
 "Kindness," "birds" and "flowers," 
 
 "Clouds," "sunshine" and "pleasures," 
 "Idleness," "wisdom," and "learning," 
 
 Have all been chosen treasures. 
 
 "Air castles," "rain," and "blizzards," 
 Have received their due attention; 
 
 ''Mary had a little lamb," 
 
 I think there's no need to mention. 
 
162 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 "Time" and "procrastination," 
 
 "Almanacs" and "trees," 
 "Potatoes" and "frog's" are g-ood subjects, 
 
 But someone has written on these. 
 
 A "rainy day," and "mosquitoes" 
 
 And "cities of the dead," 
 Have received lost time and talent 
 
 In "days forever fled." 
 "Unkinduess," and "borrowed umbrellas," 
 
 Have been used enough for our good; 
 I would like to have a subject 
 
 More worthy of thought, if I could. 
 
 "Autumn leaves" and "politeness," 
 
 "On examination day," 
 "Memories" of "evening thoughts" 
 
 Have long since passed away. 
 "The last day of school" with its shadows 
 
 Has vanished from our sight. 
 While "writing for the paper" 
 
 Will you choose the "wrong or right?" 
 
 "I can" "never say fail" when working 
 
 For the good of this glorious nation. 
 And think it our duty to strive 
 
 For its welfare, whatever our station. 
 I'm compelled to reject every subject; 
 
 Even "winter," "spring," "summer" and "fall. 
 I'm sorry to disappoint you. 
 
 But can write on nothing at all. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 163 
 
 PLAY-TIME. 
 
 The soft winds come with whispering breath, 
 O'er distant hill and meadow green, 
 
 Making our resting time more bright. 
 With scented bloom and golden sheen. 
 
 Of mid-day sun and tossing grain, 
 
 Ivow murmuring brooks and quivering leaves, 
 That tell us soon the harvest home 
 
 Will labor crown, with garnered sheaves. 
 
 But now is play-time; we can sing, 
 And lave our souls in fairest dreams, 
 
 And wander, careless and alone, 
 
 Beside sweet summer's purling stream. 
 
 From every breeze that comes and goes, 
 
 New life and beauty come to me, 
 And in its wealth of perfumed breath, 
 
 I revel in sweet ecstasy. 
 
 We rest us in the eventide. 
 
 Nor sigh for morning dew and light. 
 But greet it gladly as we list 
 
 To murmuring voices of the night. 
 
 The sun fades in the purple west; 
 
 The sodden earth is gray and lone; 
 The trees scarce nodding where they stand, 
 
 Nor mock us with a sigh or moan. 
 
 Labor may come with other days — 
 Sorrow may come with other years, 
 
 But this is only a time for joy — 
 No sadness now, or bitter tears. 
 
164 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Come as you will, O woe and care, 
 After this play-time, bliss sublime. 
 
 And I shall greet you with a smile — 
 
 Shall fill my heart with Love's sunshine. 
 
 Nor heed your frowns, or burdens wrong", 
 But live in peace, to know at last 
 
 That life has still a page of joy; 
 
 Although its springtime has been passed. 
 
 REQUITED. 
 
 I HEARD thy voice, dear loved one, pleading 
 
 So tenderly and low; 
 I thought how sad for so much needing 
 
 Of pain and woe. 
 
 Not unto me were all the tender love-tones, 
 
 That thrilled and broke. 
 Through all thy voice as from thy throne, 
 
 Thou knelt and spoke. 
 
 And all in vain, at last unheeding 
 
 Your sadness then, 
 She turned as if your journey speeding, 
 
 So must men. 
 
 Learn early to uphold the burdens 
 
 Given to bear. 
 Until each one has reached his guerdon, 
 
 And rests from care. 
 
A BUNDIvE Oi^ TWIGS 165 
 
 And yet, today, your joy and gladness 
 
 Fill up all space. 
 Quite banished are those hours of sadness, 
 
 And your face 
 
 Is smiling- now, and younger looking. 
 
 As time g-oes on. 
 As if the years are no more brooking-. 
 
 The peace you don. 
 
 'Tis well; I wish you all the sweetness 
 
 Love's cup ma}^ hold. 
 And life in all of its completeness. 
 
 As you grow old. 
 
 KEEP iVIE NEAR THEE. 
 
 Keep me near Thee lest I falter, 
 Ivest my feet forg-et the way. 
 
 And in seeking earthly pleasures 
 From the safest way I stray. 
 
 Keep me near Thee in the darkness, 
 For the shadows bring- but fear; 
 
 Keep me near Thee in the sunshine. 
 For Thy presence helps to cheer. 
 
 Keep me near Thee daily, hourly. 
 For my faint heart clings to Thee; 
 
 Through the tem^pest and the sunshine, 
 For Thy child I e'er would be. 
 
166 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 REST AT LAST 
 
 He who was, O, so weary — 
 
 Whose hours were filled with pain, 
 
 Has found the rest he longed for — 
 He will ne'er be weary again. 
 
 We are left to earth's labors, 
 And only a dream of the past 
 
 To remind us that love and pleasure 
 Of this earth are too brief to last. 
 
 He was so kind and loving. 
 But his life work is done; 
 
 The golden sheaves have been gathered 
 And laid in store, one by one. 
 
 He left us when earth was joyous 
 With the mirth of Christmas tide, 
 
 Kre the New Year, with its sunshine. 
 Had entered earth to abide. 
 
 The summer, in all its beauty. 
 
 Will come with its wealth of flowers; 
 
 He loved them, O, so dearly. 
 Through all his weary hours. 
 
 And though we see them daily. 
 
 In this familiar place. 
 We shall not hear his footstep, 
 
 Or see his kindly face. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 167 
 
 Yet a ray of hope is g-leaming*, 
 Across the distant plain, 
 
 Tellingf us that our waiting- 
 Will not be all in vain. 
 
 For we know that we shall g-reet him, 
 Sometime, upon that shore. 
 
 To dwell in perfect g^ladness. 
 With loved ones evermore. 
 
 UNFINISHED STILL. 
 
 I ivAiD the book down with a weary sigh, 
 I had been reading- on that pleasant day. 
 
 And wished that I might find a better task 
 To pass the shining hours of morn away. 
 
 Unfinished still, the book I laid aside, 
 But could I say that I was satisfied? 
 
 Full many a task with merry heart begun. 
 
 Is laid aside ere half the day is gone; 
 And newer cares, and stranger deeds are tried — 
 
 Rejected — as the time flies swiftly on. 
 Unfinished still, the work we mean to do. 
 
 Will the world blame us, or call our lives untrue? 
 
 There are lonely hearts in need of our kind care, 
 Now mourning in the shadow day by day, 
 
 While we, unthinking of their loss and grief. 
 Go cheerfully and lightly on their way. 
 
 Sometime we mean to be so good to them. 
 There's time enough as seasons come again. 
 
168 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Too late, we learn of some dear friend who g"oes 
 
 Upon a journey to a better land, 
 Whose patient love and sweet enduring- trust, 
 
 We just beg-in to faintly understand; 
 And think how many kind acts if we will, 
 
 May shed love's brig^htness over wrong- and ill. 
 
 Unfinished still! Ah! yes 'tis ever so. 
 
 From morn till noon, from noon till nig-ht, we say. 
 
 Yet when the evening- shadows g-ently fall. 
 We wait until tomorrow — happier day. 
 
 We ling-er still, as golden days pass by, 
 Sowing- to reap in sorrow — ^you and I, 
 
 We mean to do, and be so good and true. 
 
 That guardian angels may our lives address, 
 
 With cheerful praise amid this earthly dross. 
 For such sweet acts of self-forgetfulness. 
 
 But O, how small our sheaves of good appear, 
 When garnered at the ending of the year. 
 
 Will God forget I wonder in that day. 
 
 And leave our names half written in His book. 
 
 Where all the blessed ones redeemed in love. 
 May with mild eyes upon them daily look? 
 
 And say, "Think not dear ones I do this deed for ill, 
 The tasks I gave you left unfinished still." 
 
A BUNDL,E OF TWIGS. 169 
 
 GRANDMA'S GRAVE. 
 
 There's a grave all lonely and silent, 
 
 Up there on the side of a hill; 
 Where sleeps a cherished loved one, 
 
 Whose presence seems with us still. 
 
 Our grandma? How strange, my children, 
 
 To know she has left us here; 
 She who has always loved us — 
 
 Was ever ready to cheer. 
 
 When here, her work — her pleasure. 
 Was among the sweetest flowers; 
 
 Rich blossoms, whose very brightness 
 Beguiled her w^eary hours. 
 
 Her hands seemed ever rested. 
 
 When her work could be with them; 
 
 Dear hands, whose gentle clasping 
 We shall never feel again. 
 
 But now her hard work is ended; 
 
 There is nothing we can do 
 To show her our affection 
 
 For love so fond and true. 
 
 Unless, in summer sunshine. 
 
 We place our blossoms fair, 
 Upon the grave we cherish. 
 
 Because her form is there. 
 
 Rest on in your peaceful slumber. 
 
 And we, with heads bent low. 
 Will silently think of the gladness 
 
 We knew in the long ago. 
 
170 A BUNDIyB OF TWIGS. 
 
 When here in the midst of our pleasures, 
 You sat in your rocking chair, 
 
 Smiling" ever so fondly 
 
 On the faces so bright and fair. 
 
 We will leave the flowers, grandma, 
 
 Tokens of love from home; 
 Hoping soon to meet you, 
 
 When the last great day shall come. 
 
 THE SAME. 
 
 The years pass on, and lives grow old, 
 And still we cling to joy and light; 
 
 Still look for brighter things beyond. 
 But all too soon comes mist or night. 
 
 Yet, after all, the sun will shine 
 
 As brightly when the storm has passed; 
 
 Sweet rest will come with light and love — - 
 Then welcome it with joy, at last. 
 
 SING TO ME. 
 
 Sing me a song, dear sister. 
 Sweet with music and mirth, 
 
 "To me it will be dearer 
 Than anything on earth. 
 
A BUNDLK OI* TWIGS 171 
 
 I grow SO sad and weary, 
 
 As I toil on day by day, 
 And see no light in the shadows 
 
 That" will not arift away. 
 
 I have not learned to be patient, 
 
 And contented everywhere, 
 I look for lig-ht in the darkness. 
 
 But find only burdens of care. 
 
 But sing" me a song, sweet sister, 
 'Twill ease all my heartache away. 
 
 And bring pleasant dreams at twilight, 
 Evre the dawn of another day. 
 
 Yes, sing, softly and gently, 
 
 Here in the shadows dim. 
 Let your voice be earnest. 
 
 And sing me the evening hymn. 
 
 A BREATH OF SPRING. 
 
 Where only tiny buds are seen. 
 On trees, or in seas of tossing green. 
 
 Comes near. 
 The piping voice of a wild bird free, 
 Over the waving grass to me; 
 
 I wait to hear. 
 It seems to bring pleasure and hope and those 
 Who wearily sigh at the day's dark close. 
 
 And sadly say, 
 "What need have I to be good and kind, 
 
172 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 When care and trouble perplex my mind, 
 
 And seems today 
 Has had more evils than I could bear, 
 Yet the little buds look fresh and fair. 
 
 And hope may be 
 li^ven now lighting some better way. 
 That my weary feet shall find some day, 
 
 And rested be." 
 They heed not the little birds blithe and gay, 
 That chirp and twitter in their play. 
 
 And it is wrong 
 To repine and fret the whole day through, 
 Instead of being kind aud true, 
 
 As they go along. 
 Or loving the things that God has given. 
 As sweet as sacred joys from Heaven, 
 
 Here on earth. 
 The birds, the children, and the flowers, 
 I pass unheeded in cloudy hours. 
 
 And scorn their worth. 
 Some days will come to me in song, 
 And give me hope and courage strong. 
 
 To be alway, 
 Loving, and good, and kind, and true, 
 E^arnestly doing what I can do, 
 
 Day by day. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 173 
 
 A PROMISED RHYME. 
 
 You have said goodbye to your schooldays here, 
 
 They have passed forever from your sight, 
 You are telling us a long farewell, 
 
 In the few brief words you say tonight. 
 There have been storms in the rough sea, 
 
 Whereon your boat has taken you, 
 Yet after storm the sunshine came. 
 
 And you've had friends both kind and true. 
 
 You are going now amid life's throng. 
 
 To seek for fame perhaps, and gold, 
 The story of your happiest days 
 
 May be for many years untold. 
 Here you have labored well, my friend. 
 
 Proudly stood first in lessons all, 
 You are building your castles broad and high, 
 
 Of knowledge and truth, but not to fall. 
 
 Over the tide of coming years. 
 
 If we could know what time will bring, 
 L/Ove and peace and joy for you, 
 
 And summer birds that sweetly sing; 
 Or will it bring clouds of despair, 
 
 To drive the sunshine all away, 
 And leave you lonely, friend, and sad. 
 
 To wander on in any way. 
 
 I can not tell what it will be — 
 
 Sunshine or shadow, joy or woe — 
 But my best wishes for your good. 
 
 Are with you, friend, where e'er you go. 
 So if my friendship e'er will be 
 
 A help to keep you good and true. 
 Gladly and freely now my friend. 
 
 Here in these lines, I give it you. 
 
174 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 LITTLE WORRIES. 
 
 They take all the smiles from our faces^ 
 They take all the blue from the sky, 
 
 They leave us no comfort or pleasures, 
 As the minutes go hurrying by. 
 
 They bring- the care lines to our faces, 
 
 They keep us forever adrift. 
 This spirit of hustling" and bustling*, 
 
 That is more than the spirit of thrift. 
 
 They show us the thorns 'neath the roses. 
 They find every flaw in the seam. 
 
 They show us life's plain at its dullest, 
 When it might be a poet's dream. 
 
 So over the hills of discomfort. 
 
 We hobble blindly along-, 
 Hugging our idols — these worries. 
 
 And never find time for a song". 
 
 We crush all the leaf-buds of promise, 
 We scorn all the blessings that stay. 
 
 Not knowing- the burdens we carry. 
 Keep Heaven farther away. 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 
 HEART of mine, why ling-er? 
 The time is long, and near 
 
 1 hear the minutes telling- 
 The passing of the year. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 175 
 
 The sunbeams, warm and mellow, 
 Their lights of gladness show 
 
 Upon me as I ponder; 
 
 And the beautiful, heartfelt glow 
 
 Gives to my fainting spirit, 
 Some sweetness of the ways 
 
 That God marks out to follow, 
 Through many changeful days. 
 
 The birds, in happy medley, 
 
 The loveliness prolong. 
 As I wonder dimly, idly. 
 
 Through all this light and song, 
 
 If some hearts must be aching — 
 Some lives be void of sun — 
 
 Hopeless and despairing. 
 Before the day is done. 
 
 And then I think, contritely, 
 That I am wrong to dwell 
 
 Upon the ills and sorrows. 
 And say it is not well. 
 
 For there is a God above us. 
 Patient, and true, and kind. 
 
 Who heedeth all our failings, 
 Who leadeth when we're blind. 
 
 So I will cease repining. 
 
 And humbly say to him: 
 "O Father, guide me — keep me 
 
 Pure without — within." 
 
176 A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 
 
 IDLENESS. 
 
 Ah ! this a week day morning; 
 
 The busy ones I hear, 
 Performing household duties, 
 
 With thankfulness and cheer. 
 
 I hear a voice low humming 
 
 A sacred. Sabbath hymn; 
 Rising in tuneful cadence 
 
 Above the merry din. 
 
 But I rest me here in the sunshine. 
 Nor fret at the loss of a day; 
 
 For the hours, like stray sunbeams. 
 Pass silently away. 
 
 And I drift adown the current. 
 In happy, changeful mood, 
 
 And my soul finds sweetest resting, 
 By peaceful nature wooed. 
 
 My feet have walked rough pathways 
 
 In times past, and my joy 
 Has found, in every season, 
 
 A portion of alloy. 
 
 But why repine at the chastening, 
 Or shrink from the cross I bear? 
 
 It only adds to my burdens. 
 
 And I miss what is sweet and fair. 
 
 So I sit in the morning sunlight, 
 And write, while other feet 
 
 And hands are laboring gladly. 
 The work of the day to complete. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 177 
 
 YOU AND I. 
 
 O, MOTHER, with your sad eyes looking 
 Toward all the years that yet may come, 
 
 You have a right to voice your sorrow, 
 While I, alone, must e'er be dumb. 
 
 You miss the childish arms, close clinging 
 Around your neck — the morning kiss; 
 
 While I, through daylight and through darkness. 
 Have no such memory as this. 
 
 Your heart has throbbed with deepest pleasure, 
 
 To hear the children at their play; 
 To watch their growth of mind and stature, 
 
 And mark what joys were round their way.. 
 
 Your eyes grew brighter with the gladness 
 That pleasure brought with speech and song; 
 
 But now the memory of it hastens 
 Your bitter sorrow to prolong. 
 
 Yours, then, the loss of precious loved one. 
 
 (Though one less loving now remains,) 
 For you have felt his fond caressing, 
 
 Though followed now by deepest pain. 
 
 Have I no loss? Ah deeper sorrow 
 
 It seems to me, that I must keep. 
 No loving one to pet or miss me, 
 
 Or for my care to lull to sleep. 
 
 My aching heart has e'er a shadow; 
 
 My empty arms must never be 
 A shelter for those trusting dear ones, 
 
 With their truth and simplicity. 
 
178 ' A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Yes, 'tis denied me, and I sorrow, 
 
 Althoug-h I pray "Thy will be done." 
 
 I almost covet your g-reat sorrow, 
 
 Dear mother, for — His peace shall come. 
 
 Ah me! To lose must be keen ang-uish. 
 The kindliness and tender care, 
 
 But to not know the love and trusting- — 
 There is refug*e in sweet prayer. 
 
 GETTING ACQUAINTED. 
 
 I MET you when earth was a picture 
 
 Of sweetness and beauty to me; 
 When I, with the brig-ht world about me, 
 
 Was as happy as happy could be. 
 
 You smiled with eyes kind as a woman's, 
 You clasped hands so g^ently, yet firm; 
 
 You were kind and you g-ave me your friendship, 
 And I gave you mine in return. 
 
 The trees nodded more in the breezes, 
 The birds sang- their sweetest lays; 
 
 And all the chang^eful seasons 
 Seemed filled with happy days. 
 
 For a thought of you ever cheered me, 
 
 A vision of you, first and last 
 In the day, as it came and vanished, 
 
 Brought me pleasures that faded fast. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 179 
 
 No joy was too slig^ht to cherish, 
 
 To tell to your listening- ear; 
 No sorrow so deep or well guarded, 
 
 But you sought out the lurking fear. 
 
 O blissful, changeful gladness ! 
 
 O friendship, without its stain 
 Of untruth, and selfish longing, • 
 
 That leaves such a bitter pain. 
 
 Will always the sorrow come after 
 The joy or the bliss that we feel? 
 
 Will ever a shadow darken 
 
 Love's light, earth's fairest ideal ? 
 
 Ah me ! what a lifetime of blunders, 
 
 What undercurrents to stem; 
 Will our boats sink 'neath the torrent, 
 
 Or rise to the surface again ? 
 
 You taught me the kingly kindness 
 
 Of loving, and finding a way. 
 All bright with earth's richest beauty, 
 
 With none of its darkening ray. 
 
 Yes, truly, you brought me life s sweetness- 
 You taught me the power of pain; 
 
 Life was pleasant for both for a season, 
 But now— we are strangers again. 
 
180 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 THE TIMID BEE. 
 
 "Where shall I go," said the little bee, 
 As he slowly buzzed in the waving* grasses, 
 
 "I am frightened nearly out of my wits. 
 When one of those noisy children passes." 
 
 "I've looked about me all the day, 
 For a place to settle and work alone; 
 
 But every time I'm a little late. 
 
 Someone has chosen that for a home." 
 
 I'm going now to the garden patch, 
 
 Where everything looks sweet and sunny. 
 
 I'm sure I've found the place at last, 
 To garner precious stores of honey." 
 
 "But what is this in the strawberry bed. 
 Gleaming white in the golden sun ? 
 
 A tiny sunbonnet, sure enough, 
 
 Shading the face of some little one." 
 
 , "O ho," said the bee, "so there's some one here. 
 
 Just wait till I slyl}^ take a peep 
 At the roguish face, that no doubt is there — 
 Well, now, if she isn't fast asleep." 
 
 "Who'd harm a baby? Not I for one, 
 I'll go to my work now in a hurry. 
 
 And gather from all these blossoms sweet. 
 My bread while there is no noise or flurry." 
 
 Buzz, buzz, went the busy dusty bee. 
 
 Softly to himself low singing; 
 When suddenly, on the fragrant air, 
 
 A merry childish voice came ringing. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 181 
 
 "O mama, come quick here's a funny bird, 
 
 He just sings 'buzz' as he flies around. 
 I should think he'd fly up in the sky. 
 And not stay here near the dusty ground." 
 
 "Dear, dear," said the bee, "I shall have to go; 
 
 I'm tired and my work isn't finished yet. 
 She's a naughty girl to frighten me so," 
 
 And away he flew with a buzz of regret. 
 
 A MESSAGE OF LOVE. 
 
 I PRESS the pure sweet blossoms to my lips. 
 
 And hold them tenderly and say. 
 What memories they waken, dear. 
 
 Of olden time, of vanished day. 
 
 A day so fraught with joy and peace and bliss, 
 
 I ne'er can hope to know again, 
 But your kind messages of love. 
 
 That I hold here, are not in vain. 
 
 No, not in vain, one kind or loving word. 
 One gentle deed of thoughtfulness, 
 
 Though we may never meet again, 
 These blossoms help my life to bless. 
 
 I watch the changeful shadows as they pass. 
 On wall and w^indow, floor and chair, 
 
 And, weaving fancies from them, love, 
 I say that life holds scenes as fair. 
 
182 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 We find bright flowers all around our way, 
 Roses that seem to have no thorn, 
 
 Yet, when we pluck them we have lost 
 The pretty youth-leaves of the morn. 
 
 But these pale blossoms have no hidden thorn, 
 They bring" to me a calm content, 
 
 That is so welcome to my life, 
 
 I know not where the shadows went. 
 
 Yes, how I bless you daily for your love. 
 
 For thinking of me as I roam; 
 I am far happier to keep 
 
 This token from your humble home. 
 
 Sometime, maybe I'll clasp the hands I love, 
 That picked these blossoms fair and sweet, 
 
 Within mine own with love so true, 
 And all my joy shall be complete. 
 
 JUST FOR FUN. 
 
 I ivOVED sweet E^lsie at twenty. 
 And said to her just for fun, 
 
 "O give me a kiss, my bonny lass," 
 But she wouldn't gfive me one. 
 
 to' 
 
 At forty she no more resembled 
 My charming blue-eyed lass, 
 
 I scarcely would have imagined 
 The years could so swiftly pass. 
 
J 
 
 A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 183 
 
 Forty, and still unmarried, 
 
 How strang-ely time's seasons run; 
 
 "Now what would you g"ive for a kiss, my dear," 
 I said to her just for fun. 
 
 AT EVENING. 
 
 I WATCHED till the day was ended 
 And my heart once sad, g-rew light, 
 
 And I'd beautiful thoughts to cheer me. 
 As I welcomed the shades of night. 
 
 And I thought, what matter if sorrow 
 Of discord, or pain should come; 
 
 'Tis at best but a passing season 
 That we dwell in this earthly home.* 
 
 Then I heard the children singing 
 
 A quaint old lullaby, 
 That made me smile in gladness. 
 
 As a glimpse from the Past came by. 
 
 A glimpse of a scene like the present — 
 
 Children merry and bold. 
 Shut in by the bright, warm fireside. 
 
 Away from the winter's cold. 
 
 The same merry songs they were singing, 
 Their hearts full of careless glee, 
 
 I wonder today if their number, 
 Are all as happy and free. 
 
184 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 It matters not; we are passing 
 
 Away like the springtime and fall, 
 
 And he who enjoys the present, 
 Lives the happiest life after all. 
 
 PINING. 
 
 Today my heart called out to you my darling; 
 
 I hungered so to see your face once more, 
 E^re I took up again the heavy burdens, 
 
 And ceaseless tasks, to do them o'er and o'er. 
 
 But I can wait; I see no light to guide me. 
 
 No voice to cheer me as I journey on. 
 How can I sing, then, when life's dearest pleasures 
 
 Seem for a season from my pathway gone? 
 
 I hear the merry tones and cheery laughter, 
 Of some glad youths and maidens in the street; 
 
 They remind me of the pleasures that have vanished. 
 But Time those olden joys will not repeat. 
 
 D'en though I long for all the past enjoyments 
 That make one golden day of human life. 
 
 And sweeter peace to reign o'er every darkness. 
 That my glad heart might know no more of strife. 
 
A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 185 
 
 TIME PASSES ON. 
 
 TiMB passes on. 
 
 And we grow old, 
 
 And hearts grow cold, 
 
 And the forms we clasped in a loving fold, 
 
 We clasp no more; 
 
 Still — time goes on. 
 
 Time passes on. 
 
 The season's gloom, 
 
 And flowery bloom. 
 
 Change places and fade away so soon, 
 
 As time goes on. 
 
 Time passes on. 
 
 And each dear face. 
 
 In home's own place. 
 
 May pass away and leave no trace 
 
 To cheer us here. 
 
 As time flies on. 
 
 Time passes on, 
 
 And the joys we knew, 
 
 In their love so true, 
 
 When we shared all pleasures and joys 
 
 [with you, 
 Have passed away; 
 Yet — time goes on. 
 
 Time passes on. 
 
 And so today 
 
 We cannot stay; 
 
 While some are old and turning gray, 
 
 We part in peace 
 
 Though time rolls on. 
 
186 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 As time goes on, 
 
 We wish for you, 
 
 With friendship true, 
 
 While skies are fresh, and fair, and blue, 
 
 Always (your due,) 
 
 As time g-oes on. 
 
 A happy time. 
 
 And sweet sunshine, 
 
 And if ever, only a distant chime 
 
 Of sorrow's bells. 
 
 And now goodbye — 
 
 Time passes on. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 If I should see you toiling-, step by step. 
 
 Afar up rocky mountain heig^ht. 
 And you, with questioning- eyes, should look 
 
 For me to join you ere the nig-ht, • 
 I would not come, or smile, or send 
 
 One word of kindness after you; 
 K'en thoug-h you love me fondly now. 
 
 Time was, when I believed you true. 
 
 Go on your way; climb, fall, and rise ag-ain, 
 
 Or sink beneath the showering mist; 
 I will not even look upon 
 
 The fair, false lips I used to kiss. 
 Not false? Ah then, come not again; 
 
 Por it were sadder than love's fate, 
 To think all kindest thoughts of you 
 
 Are hatred. Say it is too late ! , 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 187 
 
 That all the happy days g-one by and lost, 
 
 Were but as idle drea'ms, most fair, 
 And thoug-h we search till life is spent, 
 
 They'll not return unfraught with care? 
 Well, be it so. I care not now 
 
 Where your steps, wandering-, may go. 
 Come not to me, with pain — reg'ret. 
 
 Or ever think I loved you so. 
 
 A GREETING. 
 
 The deW is sparkling- on the hills and mountains; 
 
 The flowers like pure diamonds brightly glisten, 
 And as the birds join in the morning- praises. 
 
 With blithest song-, I cease my toil and listen. 
 
 Their free, g-lad notes, so joyous and so merry. 
 Make all the earth chime in harmonious voice; 
 
 The weary hearted and the merry toiler. 
 Alike come smiling-, and aloud rejoice. 
 
 The early sunshine adds his g-olden beauty. 
 To deck the fair earth as a crowned queen, 
 
 And when I hear your step, so lig-ht and buoyant, 
 I know these beauties are not all a dream. 
 
 Then welcome, friend, now, aye, yes and forever, 
 For devious paths your toiling feet have trod; 
 
 With all in beauty here so truly blended. 
 We are but nearer to our home — and God. 
 
188 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I AM WITH YOU IN MY DREAMS. 
 
 Are you lonely, None, without me, 
 
 Do you miss, while I'm away, 
 All the song-s we sing- tog^ether. 
 
 All the trifling- words I say? 
 Never mind the lonesome moments, 
 
 Or the busy changing- scenes, 
 For I love you still; though absent. 
 
 And am with you in my dreams. 
 
 All the day, its light and shadow. 
 
 Brings me near the eventide. 
 And I fain would meet and greet you, 
 
 Ivinger fondly by your side. 
 I remember all the pleasures 
 
 We have had, the joyous gleams 
 Of the past still come to me, 
 
 And illume life's shadowed stream. 
 
 And the time is shorter, brighter. 
 
 When sweet thoughts the long hours fill. 
 If I think of those who love me. 
 
 Think that I am with them still. 
 Then we 'will remember Nora, 
 
 Though parted in life's daily scenes, 
 We may love each other fondly. 
 
 In the happy land of dreams. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 189 
 
 ALTRUISM. 
 
 I HOivD that hearts are human things, 
 That thrill and tremble with regret, 
 
 When swept by memory's surging waves. 
 That will not let them e'en forget. 
 
 I claim that lives are mystic looms, 
 
 That clang and clang, through sigh and song. 
 Weaving the pattern of our fate. 
 
 Whether we will it — right or wrong. 
 
 Yes, life is real, and we must haste 
 
 To fill the hours with labor due. 
 Unheeding all the wrong and strife — 
 
 Unheeding those who prove untrue. 
 
 For time goes on, and friends renew 
 
 Their vows of love, earth's sweetest token 
 
 Of sacredness, and peace, and light — 
 Sad fate that it should e'er be broken. 
 
 For God will work His will at last. 
 To all through life, or good, or ill, 
 
 That we may learn in faith to say. 
 He loves us — peace, be still. 
 
 ONLY A YEAR. 
 
 Do you think it is only a year 
 Since you went away from me? 
 
 O, it seems like an age, for my heart 
 Is so filled with its misery. 
 
190 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Only a year — a year, 
 
 But the time seems O, so long-; 
 And yet, a year is short 
 
 If we fill it with smile and song. 
 
 But the tears that unbidden flow, 
 
 Eke out the long, gray days, 
 And help us to bear our grief. 
 
 As we go our different ways. 
 
 Her sleep is peaceful and calm, 
 
 I know, up there on the hill. 
 Where the flowers late bloomed, and the winds 
 
 Kissed the bending leaves at their will. 
 
 And I cannot wish her here. 
 
 Where the soul gets so tired and vexed; 
 Where the turmoil, and grief, and pain, 
 
 Make the brain so weary — perplexed. 
 
 I would not want her to suifer 
 
 The pain and fitful care, 
 That takes all the bloom from our faces — 
 
 Steals our joys from us unaware. 
 
 I would wish her a happier home — 
 
 A fairer sky o'er head; 
 Perennial flowers that bloom 
 
 In the pathway her feet may tread. 
 
 But O, it would comfort us so. 
 
 If we could but clasp her hand 
 Once more, and hear her voice 
 
 So sweet, from that distant land. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS 191 
 
 O, the silence and the dread, 
 The weight of doubt and fear 
 
 That has dwelt within my heart 
 Since she went away, last year. 
 
 Tonig-ht her pictured face 
 
 I held in my hand ag"ain. 
 And I know, if she were here, 
 
 I should be as happy as when 
 
 The light of her smile awoke 
 
 Sweet thrills of love in my heart; 
 
 O, faint was tlie light of hope. 
 When at last we had to part. 
 
 Who knows what anthems arise. 
 Songs for the ransomed — free. 
 
 When they in His likeness awake> 
 Over the Jasper sea. 
 
 So heart of mine, why sorrow 
 For what we cannot tell, 
 
 Whether it be for ill. 
 Or for the future, well. 
 
 'Tis sad, we know, to lose her, 
 But 'tis gain for her to keep; 
 
 And we know, too, that He giveth 
 His own beloved sleep. 
 
192 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 SOMEBODY WAS GLAD. 
 
 Somebody was g"lad at the station, 
 When she met the fair, tall boy — 
 
 Was it a mother, I wonder. 
 Who welcomed him with joy? 
 
 Or was it a sister only? 
 
 Or Auntie, or a friend? 
 I hear their happy voices, 
 
 As the car steps they descend. 
 
 And I know she was glad,- for she kissed him, 
 And he kissed her. Well-a-day ! 
 
 They were mutually glad, I imagine, 
 That they came in each other's way. 
 
 CARELESS FINGERS. 
 
 O CARELESS baby fingers. 
 
 With your movements light and free. 
 Never in rain or sunshine. 
 
 Will you come to beckon me. 
 For the babies now have grown taller, 
 
 With the hearts of women and men. 
 And, with all their light caresses, 
 
 Will never come back again. 
 
 The hand now hardened with labor, 
 
 I clasp in my own, and try 
 To think it grasps mine as warmly 
 
 As it did in the days gone by. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 193 
 
 But I know the clasp is lig-hter, 
 
 And the man is eag^er to g"o; 
 The worldly cares he is heeding", 
 
 Are hastening- his footsteps so. 
 
 But ''tis only his way, God bless him; 
 
 He never dreams that I care 
 Because the love, once mine only, 
 
 Another dear one can share. 
 He is not aware that I miss him. 
 
 Or that he looks older each day, 
 As I see him, with manly footsteps. 
 
 Go on his homeward way. 
 
 One day he was here — my darling. 
 
 And there in the sitting-room 
 Were some of his old-time plaything's. 
 
 That he loved in childhood's bloom. 
 An old book with tattered edg^es. 
 
 He took up with a smile. 
 And said, while laughing gaily, 
 "Have you kept that all this while?" 
 
 ^'I'd burn that up now, mother, 
 
 Such an object of ag^e to see; 
 As worthless as the playthings 
 
 That were once a joy to me." 
 When he went away, to the cottag^e 
 
 That stands just over the hill, 
 I watched him with loving- g-lances. 
 
 And yet my heart stood still. 
 
 As I wondered if he doubted 
 
 The mother's love for him, 
 That would strive to keep him, always, 
 
 Free from all shame and sin. 
 
194 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But no; it was only his nonsense — 
 The words were spoken in jest; 
 
 And yet, throug-h all my being, 
 Came a feeling- of vague unrest. 
 
 I took all the boyish trinkets 
 
 That he used in days of yore. 
 And put them where careless fingers 
 
 Could rest on them nevermore. 
 O boy, with your careless fingers. 
 
 Making places for mother to mend; 
 O man, with your words so thoughtless, 
 
 Know you not what grief you send 
 
 To one whose life is given 
 To the task of serving you ? 
 
 Can you do less than to trust her. 
 And ever be kind and true ? 
 
 Don't spoil her pleasant dreaming 
 By sneering at something old. 
 
 That she has tenderly cherished — 
 
 For her love ne'er grows cold. 
 
 And the tokens of their childhood. 
 
 They left when they were men. 
 She loves to carefully treasure — 
 
 It reminds her so much of them. 
 Yes, many careless fingers 
 
 Scatter the things about; 
 Yet, if our homes must please us,. 
 
 We will not leave them out. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 1^)5 
 
 For we love them e'en when they're folded, 
 
 Under the lillies white, 
 Kissed by the summer sunshine, 
 
 So cheerful, w^arm and bright. 
 And if our sad hearts chide us 
 
 For neglect of those at rest, 
 We pray to be forgiven. 
 
 For we have done our best." 
 
 THE TURKEY. 
 
 O, HAVE you seen the turkey free ? 
 For if you've not, O come with me, 
 And very merry we will be, 
 Kating the big, fat turkey. 
 
 We have bread and butter, and raisin cake. 
 And everything nice for the turkey's sake; 
 And a taste of everything you may take. 
 Right here by this nice, brown turkey. 
 
 The guests are merry, and glad, and gay, 
 And joyful words we hear them say; 
 Yes, truly, this is a thanksgiving day, 
 All full of sunshine and laughter. 
 
 So come to the feast — come one and all; 
 O, don't you hear the turkey^s call ! 
 Be thankful for blessings great and small, 
 On this bright day of rejoicing. 
 
196 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 A LATE SPRING. 
 
 The lone, brown hills lift up their frowning- brows, 
 And tall, dead grasses are tossed by the wind; 
 
 My heart is sad to see them look so drear, 
 And then I sig^h, and leave them far behind. 
 
 • 
 I leave them gladly, and go on, and on, 
 
 Beyond the bluffs where winds a running stream, 
 
 And seek in vain for springtime's early blooms — 
 
 I find them only in a vanished dream. 
 
 I dream of happy days, all bright and fair, 
 
 With deep blue sky and warmth of radiant sun, 
 
 And gladsome rest beneath the sheltering boughs 
 Of blossoming tree, when early day was done. 
 
 The merry chirp of crickets 'neath the steps, 
 The coo of happy doves adown the glen, 
 
 That wrecked but little of the days to come, 
 Or of the ceaseless care and toils of men. 
 
 Ah, well ! Perhaps the summer time will come; 
 
 Yet now, no look of springtime seems to be 
 Around the few homes on this prairie land. 
 
 That look so drear and desolate to me. 
 
 Still must we patient be, and learn to wait 
 
 For that which sometimes cometh after death — 
 
 Bright, joyous life, with birds, and bees, and flowers, 
 Awakening, all, by springtime's dewy breath. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 197 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Dear friend, I heard today of your deep sorrow, 
 
 And can but feel what pain must fill your heart. 
 To think the life of one on earth the dearest, 
 
 And your life, now, must darkly drift apart. 
 Through all the coming years you fain will miss him- 
 
 Your sorrow seemeth greater than his gain; 
 We say, "Why has this sorrow fallen on me," 
 
 Out-springing from our weariness and pain. 
 
 There is a hope out-reaching from the shadow, 
 
 A radiant light to shine upon your way; 
 'Twill guide your footsteps through the thorns and 
 darkness, 
 
 Into the green walk of a fairer day. 
 Ivook on the light and trust Him for His goodness. 
 
 And strive to think that sometime we shall know- 
 Shall share His joy in blissful peace forever. 
 
 And rest content, to think He wills it so. 
 
 LET THE WORLD MOVE ON. 
 
 The sunshine and shadows are blended 
 The days with their wearisome sounds, 
 
 Come creeping along, and we're sighing. 
 As we go on our daily rounds. 
 
 Then we reach such a time of gladness. 
 Such friends to cheer us still, 
 
 That we are contented to love them, 
 And let the world move on as it will. 
 
198 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Nor heed all the sorrowing' millions, 
 Their g-riefs our lives must not fill, 
 
 For our own burdens oppress us, 
 As we labor with a will. 
 
 So let us be up and be doing-, 
 
 Earnestly strive our missions to fill, 
 
 Iveaving- others their burdens to carry, 
 Let the world move on as it will. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 O Father of love we praise Thee, 
 
 For all of Thy tender care, 
 And the shelter Thou hast g^iven 
 
 To Thy children everywhere. 
 Ble,ss us and keep us we pray Thee, 
 
 From worldliness and sin, 
 Feeling- that we are happy, 
 
 Where with Thee we may enter in. 
 And nig-ht unto nig-ht doth praise Thee 
 
 With moon and stars, and the day. 
 Is praising- Thee with its sunlight, 
 
 Kver and aye alway. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 1^^ 
 
 PLUM BLOSSOMS. 
 
 As I stood in the shaded g-arden, 
 Where spring-, with its beauty rare, 
 
 Put on all the freshening" splendor 
 Of bud leaf and blossom fair. 
 
 There came to my wearied senses, 
 The faint, frag^rant breath so sweet. 
 
 Of beautiful, white plum blossoms. 
 That fell in the g-rass at my feet. 
 
 I hoped that no storm would come after 
 The rest they had broug-ht to me. 
 
 For my life was so cold and embittered — 
 As full of strife as could be. 
 
 But the feathery, little blossoms. 
 
 Light as the falling- snow, 
 Broug-ht me a sweeter comfort 
 
 Than I knew in the long- ago. 
 
 I forg-ot my toil and trials. 
 
 And the waiting- that broug-ht no rest, 
 But as their peace stole o'er me. 
 
 It all seemed for the best. 
 
 Bloom on in your quiet beauty — 
 
 Teach to others as to me. 
 That life has pleasant places, 
 
 Where sometimes we may be. 
 
200 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 I AM standing- in the quiet eventide, 
 
 Beside the stream where you and I have stood; 
 And though I think upon the happy past, 
 
 I would not live it over if I could. 
 
 The birds are trilling- gentle lullabies, 
 
 As deeper shadows hide their cool retreat, * 
 
 And I, with happy thoughts about their homes. 
 
 Stand idly till the shadows reach my feet. 
 
 happy present, I am glad to be 
 
 In thy sweet sunshine, gleaming golden bright. 
 Where no false shadows e'er can come again, 
 To dim the radiance of thy brilliant light. 
 
 1 turn and wander back to home and rest. 
 
 Nor breathe one sigh for those bright days of yore, 
 Knowing full well the present is as dear. 
 And peace and love are mine forever more. 
 
 YOU WILL NOT BE FORSAKEN. 
 
 Think not, though I am absent, dearest. 
 That life will seem a sadder day to you, 
 
 For other friends, with hearts as warm and tender. 
 Will meet you oft and prove affection true. 
 
 I have been kind, and smiled upon you fondly; 
 
 Have not reproved when all the cold world frowned; 
 And though we part today, perhaps forever. 
 
 Remember you were once my hero, crowned. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 201 
 
 My life will be the same old, simple story, 
 Working" for others, and the pressing" need 
 
 Of many poor, who share my humble labors, 
 Will help me, love, to scatter precious seed. 
 
 You need not sig"h for me, for I am happy, 
 
 You will be, too, when this one more g"oodbye. 
 
 Has faded from your careless erring" memory. 
 And all will be so fair in love's brig"ht sky. 
 
 So now, g"Oodbye, think kindly of me ever, 
 As I of you, althoug"h my trust is shaken. 
 
 But I shall sorrow not for you, for others 
 
 Will love and cheer — you will not be forsaken. 
 
 OVER THE RIVER. 
 
 He has g"one from our once happy household, 
 
 And left us in sadness and tears, 
 To miss all his kind, loving" g"oodness 
 
 Bach day, through the swift-passing" years. 
 How lonely the home seems without him ! 
 
 E)ach room seems to echo his tread; 
 But his empty chair often reminds us 
 
 That our cherished loved one is dead. 
 
 He was always a friend to the needy. 
 
 And the rich smiled and called him their friend, 
 But from out of all pleasure and g"ladness, 
 
 He has reached his journey's end. 
 
202 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Out of life's hardships and strugg^les, 
 And from the crosses he had to bear, 
 
 Looking-, sometimes, for the sunshine. 
 
 When his mind was o'er burdened with care. 
 
 Yet I think he would welcome gladly, 
 
 All of life's sorrow and pain, 
 And in suffering- it, would reckon 
 
 It all as a glorious g-ain. 
 If he could but know of the friendship 
 
 Of those who have followed today. 
 With sad hearts the steps of the mourners 
 
 Who have left him asleep 'neath the clay. 
 
 Ah well ! the years ever pass onward; 
 
 Soon we'll meet the ones gone before, 
 And 'speak the kind words forgotten 
 
 While wandering here on the shore. 
 Yes, when our boats reach that blessed anchor. 
 
 Where rested feet gladly have trod. 
 All the loved ones shall be reunited. 
 
 At home in the Kingdom of God. 
 
 BITTER SWEET. 
 
 Have you tasted the bitter, my darling? 
 
 Have you sighed for a fancy or dream ? 
 Have you lingered too long — floating idly 
 
 Down love's enchanted stream ? 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS 203 
 
 If you have, it is time to awaken — 
 Cast off the spell — slumber has lain 
 
 Too long- on your drowsy eyelids; 
 Awake, thoug-h the waking- be vain. 
 
 Have you tasted the drug's in the goblet 
 That was held to your eag^er lips, 
 
 That at first brought such joyous pleasure. 
 As pure as the honeybee sips ? 
 
 It is naught but the cost of a June- time; 
 
 The autumn soon fadeth the rose. 
 The bitterest thoughts will come after 
 
 The sweetness and beauty one knows. 
 
 Yes, life is a dream — while 'tis pleasant — 
 
 Of beautiful fancies sweet, 
 But at last all the loveliest roses 
 
 Are crushed 'neath our restless feet. 
 
 A REPROOF. 
 
 Why silent, sister, through the sunny morning-. 
 And busy noon, and calm and silent nig-ht ? 
 
 Has aught now caused a shade of grief or anger 
 To come athwart the glimmer of love's lig-ht? 
 
 I cannot tell, but looking- still, and watching, 
 I'm waiting- for a message from your pen, 
 
 That shall recall the days we spent tog-ether, 
 And bring sweet peace to my sad heart agfain. 
 
204 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 You may be lonely, too, while striving 
 
 For right and truth, and good that is to come, 
 
 When, glad or free, once more we'll dwell together. 
 And work together, dear, from sun to sun. 
 
 The time may hasten ere we know its mission, 
 And bring our lives sweet comfort once again, 
 
 Where we'll forget the hours of past submission, 
 And feel that no true trusting is in vain. 
 
 I KNOW IT ISN'T SO. 
 
 You may say folks don't judge by the clothing 
 You wear, if they're pleasant to you. 
 
 But, from my own sad experience, 
 I am just as sure that the}^ do. 
 
 If you wear a coat that is ragged, 
 
 And a pair of gapping old shoes. 
 And look a bit sad and down-hearted — 
 
 Perhaps just a touch of the blues. 
 
 Why, there's many a person will pass you, 
 
 Who hasn't a word to say. 
 Because you are shabby and wretched. 
 
 And will silently go on their way. 
 
 If you enter the store to do shopping, 
 The clerks will stare and look wise; 
 
 And if you request their attention, 
 
 They will laugh at you then in surprise. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 205 
 
 You may wait till your feet ache with standing-. 
 
 Before they will notice your need, 
 And unless they are sure you have money, 
 
 You will not be alarmed at their speed. 
 
 -But if you want pleasant attention, 
 
 Wherever you chance to go. 
 Just put on your finest clothing-. 
 
 And notice how many will know^ 
 
 That you pass them on the crossing". 
 
 Or in the crowded mart. 
 Now remember what I tell you: 
 
 You must not judg^e by the heart. 
 
 For often the heart might be willing 
 
 To meet you as equal in tone. 
 But the thought of the world's quick opinion, 
 
 Will such a wrong impulse disown. 
 
 So, if you would keep up with the fashion, 
 With the busy world hurrying by. 
 
 You must dress well on every occasion. 
 Or there's no use to live if 3"0U try. 
 
 TOKENS OF SPRING. 
 
 I HEAR the cheery robins calling, calling, 
 I see the blue jay hopping here and there, 
 
 Saucy and light-hearted, as though never 
 His life has felt a sense of carping care. 
 
206 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I see the tiny grasses spring-ing", springing-, 
 Up from their bed of mosses and of mold, 
 
 As though half fearing, in their sudden rudeness, 
 They may be caught in winter's lingering cold. 
 
 I see around me, light and beauty beaming. 
 And my glad heart, too, with the robin sings; 
 
 And opening bud and leaf and early grasses. 
 With new delight each its own pleasure brings. 
 
 The windows, open wide, let in the sunlight. 
 And gentle breath of wind that sweeps about. 
 
 As though to find a hidden touch of winter, 
 And, with its gentle fragrance, drive it out. 
 
 We daily welcome these surprising tokens. 
 And summer beauties, too, will soon unclose, 
 
 And lovlier flowers shall deck the vales before us, 
 The lilac and the dewy-hearted rose. 
 
 But we are reveling now in early dawning. 
 
 Of springtime joys, with all their wealth of bliss, 
 
 And if the summer comes, it can but hasten, 
 The grateful feelings of our lives for this. 
 
 WITH THE TIDE. 
 
 I WATCHED your boat go sailing out 
 On the boundless ocean wide. 
 
 And wondered if all the treasures rare. 
 Would come back with the tide. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 207 
 
 The sunlight gilded earth and sea, 
 
 As the fair ship sailed away; 
 .Unclouded hearts, with gladsome joy 
 
 And hope, beat high that day. 
 
 The days passed on; I wandered still, 
 
 Down on the rock-bound shore, 
 Looking in vain for sail or mast — 
 
 Would it come nevermore ? 
 
 * -;<- ^:- -^ Tf t:- * 
 What's this I see out on the waves ! 
 
 A broken mast and ropes? 
 O, come not near, until I know 
 
 The answer to my hopes. 
 
 A light seems dancing o'er the wave, 
 
 Just like a twinkling star, 
 And there a form, so dark and still, 
 
 Lashed to a floating spar. 
 Is this what yonder tide has brought, 
 
 With its ceaseless, sullen roar ? 
 A wreck of life — of ship — of all. 
 
 Tossed toward the sand-washed shore ? 
 
 LINES ON RECEIVING A VALENTINE. 
 
 I don't care a fig for the whole of creation, 
 I'm as happy today as a king on his throne. 
 
 The reason ? Simply a dainty, white missive. 
 
 That came to me signed, "Sweet Valentine," "Your 
 Own." 
 
208 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Where did it come from? Dear me, how can /tell. 
 
 Who sent it ? I see you are anxious to know. 
 Perhaps a little bird started to tell me, 
 
 And had his brown wing-s over-freig"hted with snow. 
 Maybe I shall never know who sent the token 
 
 Of loving- affection from his gentle hand, 
 And while old Time wing-s his flig-ht, ever unwearied. 
 
 His kindness for me I may not understand. 
 But I shall not care, for today I am happy. 
 
 And fear not the chang-ing- tide on life's wide sea; 
 In spite of all clouds, I shall sing-, O, so g-ladly, 
 
 For some one was kind in remembering- me. 
 
 McGILL AND McGEE. 
 
 There were two little boys, McGill and McGee, 
 
 Who were g-ay little newsboj^s as you will soon see. 
 
 They were poor little fellows, and worked hard each day. 
 
 To make a fair living-, to pay their own way. 
 
 They were not just alike, for no two boys could be, 
 
 But one of these boys was the hero for me. 
 
 McGill was a schemer, and rapidly planned 
 
 How he mig-ht have money, more often at hand. 
 
 He kept a sharp lookout each day on the street, 
 
 To g-ain prize or plunder from those he mig-ht meet. 
 
 In counting- the chang-e for the papers he sold. 
 
 He was hasty and careless when the weather was cold. 
 
 Now Billy was timid, yes almost afraid, 
 
 To even talk business when making- a trade; 
 
 But his heart was so kind and his voice was so sweet, 
 
 That he made many friends 'mid the throng- in the street. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 209 
 
 Now Johnny and Billy were partners in work, 
 
 And neither I'm sure his duty would shirk. 
 
 One morning- McGill was ahead of McGee, 
 
 And bright for a trade as a wise boy should be. 
 
 Old Mrs. McCarthy kept a stand of fine fruit, 
 
 And she tried her best, all the children to suit. 
 
 As Johnny was hurrying along down the street, 
 
 He hit the fruit stand with its load of nice sweets, 
 
 But rushed right along nor stopped to inquire, 
 
 What harm he had done; and the old woman^s ire 
 
 Was kindled against him as the fruit rolled around, 
 
 And she was too lame to stoop to the ground. 
 
 *'If I only had hould av the youngster," said she, 
 
 "I'd shake him well, I would, you'd see." 
 
 But just then kind Billy came whistling by, 
 
 But he stopped with a jerk, when the sight caught his 
 
 eye. 
 "O please let me help you, I know I can, too, 
 I've been waiting to do an errand for you. 
 Since the night when us boys was a gettin' home late, 
 And you gave us some apples and peanuts, I hate 
 Ter leave yer to straighten the whole stand ag'in. 
 But yer's Johnny a comin' and he'll scold sure as sin." 
 So the old woman thanked him as Johnn}^ came near. 
 But he was real cross and his face looked so queer. 
 "I haint had no luck for a whole week," he said. 
 As he sullenly shook his little brown head. 
 "And good enough, too," the old woman said, 
 "For if you were kinder you'd have work ahead; 
 And if you'd be honest I'm sure you would be, 
 As gay and light-hearted as Billy McGee." 
 
210 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 STRANGERS YET. 
 
 In that fair land toward which our feet are set. 
 
 Where ills ne'er fret, 
 Shall you know me — I you, 
 
 Or shall we both forget ? 
 
 Shall we forg-et the loving- deeds and words 
 
 For you and I ? 
 The smiles and joys — the pleasures, 
 
 In happy years g^one by? 
 
 And, too, shall we forg-et the sordid strife, 
 
 The pain and scorn, 
 The bitterness that came to both. 
 
 Within the sunny morn ? 
 
 But if we must remember pain and g"rief. 
 
 Then 'twere no joy 
 To have a taste of Heaven's bliss, 
 
 With dull alloy. 
 
 If I could know that we, dear — you and I, 
 
 Should sometime meet. 
 And be forg-iven for all, in kindness. 
 
 Then life, at last, were sweet. 
 
 If not, then even in that Heavenly land 
 
 I'd not forget, 
 But meet you as we met on earth — 
 
 As strangers vet. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 211 
 
 ALWAYS WINTER. 
 
 The sunshine rests so softly, lig-htly, 
 
 Upon the heads of heather bloom; 
 I cannot think its radiant brig-htness 
 
 Will fade, and bring- us nig-ht so soon. 
 And yet I know that love has come and gone, 
 And nothing- now is left for hope to rest upon. 
 
 The birds are gay, and chirp and twitter. 
 
 And flit to the neighboring- boug-hs to rest, 
 But when the last faint beam has faded. 
 
 They fly back to their own sweet nest. i 
 
 I love to watch them flitting to and fro', 1 
 
 And yet my heart cannot forget its woe. 
 
 When the playful breeze is swaying-, tossing 
 The scented blooms, all wet with dew. 
 
 About me in luxuriant showers, 
 
 I wonder, "Is there aught untrue?" 
 
 Ah ! there is resting in love's shining ^vay, 
 
 While some hearts know but winter's chilling day. 
 
 The cheery laughter of the happy children 
 
 Falls all unheeded on my ears; 
 Faint glimpses of the past come near me, 
 
 That call forth only bitter tears. 
 
 weary time ! O future days so long ! 
 
 1 cannot teach my heart to sing your song. 
 
 Always and always, bleakest winters- 
 No summer's gladdening light for me, 
 
 But ever the same frost pictures. 
 Traced by a haunted memory. 
 
 Never a sweetness, not akin to pain — 
 
 I miss the sunlight, a-fter mist and rain. 
 
212 A BUNDIyEi OF TWIGS. 
 
 Truly, all lives must have some gladness, 
 In happy days and pleasant scenes — 
 
 A time that will not vanish lig-htly, 
 Ivike the mere semblance of a dream. 
 
 But mine has lost the brightness that it knew, 
 
 And all of life seems sad, and strange, and new. 
 
 ABSENT, YET NEAR. 
 
 I'm away, but I know you remember 
 The words that I spoke on that day; 
 
 The blessing- I gave you at parting. 
 Though Ave were so smiling and gay. 
 
 I know the truth reached you, my darling — 
 I know that your heart understands, 
 
 Although I may nevermore meet you — 
 
 Though again we shall never clasp hands. 
 
 You know how I trusted and loved you. 
 And today I'm as loving and fond. 
 
 For above every cloud of temptation, 
 I know 3^our true heart will respond. 
 
 THE LAST STAMP. 
 
 You may talk of the sadness of parting 
 With a fragrant cigar loved so well, 
 
 Or a lover's last sad parting. 
 In affair and leafy dell. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 21^ 
 
 But there's one thing" will cause deeper sorrow, 
 
 To merchant, or tailor or. tramp, 
 A feeling- of woe for the morrow, 
 
 When he uses his last postag-e stamp. 
 
 You may sometimes, too, lose your last dollar. 
 
 And when old friends pass coldly by. 
 Do you think yoti will meet a hugfe c\xlone, 
 
 And in its oblivion die ? 
 Ah, no; life is dark for a season. 
 
 But then there is many a tramp, 
 Who writes a kind loving- letter. 
 
 And sends it with his last stamp. 
 
 You think to regain your lost foot-hold, 
 
 On the slippery ladder of life. 
 But you soon will despair if you're crowded 
 
 Out of sig-ht in the hurrying- strife. 
 Yet, arise (thoug-h the world never knows you 
 
 To call you a king- or a tramp), 
 And wait till return mail shall bring- 3^011 
 
 A reward for your last postag-e stamp. 
 
 And now, dear kind friends, who are waiting-, 
 
 This long- promised letter from me, 
 I hope you'll rejoice when you read this, 
 
 And find out the reason, you see 
 My intention was good, but the weather 
 
 Has been very muddy and damp. 
 And, on the last letter I mailed you, 
 
 I pasted my last postage stamp. 
 
214 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 THINK OF ME. 
 
 WiivL you think of me, my darling-, 
 When the morns in joy awake? 
 
 Will you breathe a whispered blessing- 
 On the absent for my sake ? 
 
 Will you smile and e'er be happy, 
 Though some task go sadly wrong? 
 
 Will you strive, w^hen life is dreary. 
 To fill all the hours with song- ? 
 
 Will you ever think about me ? 
 Will you ever long- to hear 
 ' The low tones of love that whispered 
 Sweetest comforting- and cheer ? 
 
 'te 
 
 Will you think of hours of gladness, 
 That your sad life might have known. 
 
 Had you looked beyond the shadows, 
 Where the light of hope still shone ? 
 
 If your're happy in the sunshine — 
 Glad and joyous all the day. 
 
 Will 5^ou ever think about me, 
 Sad and lonely, far away? 
 
 Will you gaze in homesick long-ing 
 At the white sails out at sea? 
 
 Will you ever miss me, darling — 
 Will you ever think of me ? 
 
 When the world has proved too shallow. 
 
 And you know life's misery, 
 In the mist of shadowed silence, 
 
 Be kind, dear, and think of me. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 215 
 
 AN AUTUMN DAY. 
 
 The sun, away to the eastward, 
 
 Gloomy, and gray, and cold, 
 As if its infant brig^htness 
 
 Was burnished with tarnished gold. 
 
 A mist came up from the river, 
 And hid, with its misty light, 
 
 The houses and streets of our city, 
 
 That were wont to be fair and brig-ht. 
 
 The children w^ent hurrying- school-ward. 
 To find there comfort and cheer. 
 
 And some were discontented, 
 To see the day so drear. 
 
 Noon comes — the mists are rising — 
 The sun means to show his face. 
 
 While cheerfulness seems to gather 
 Quickly in every place. 
 
 O, what a change from the morning ! 
 
 What joy the earth can hold ! 
 As we meet and greet each other. 
 
 It seems we can ne'er grow old. 
 
 Night shades fall softly — lightly — 
 We journey our homeward way; 
 
 And with grateful hearts we thank Him 
 For this precious autumn day. 
 
216 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 MUSING. 
 
 I WATCHED the chang-eful shadows shifting', 
 
 Just near the quiet, peaceful eventide, 
 And my thoughts turned, in happy, tuneful musings. 
 
 To earthly thing's, and heavenly, beside. 
 
 I seemed to see, (in dreamy fancy,) twining-. 
 
 The sweetest flowers around your humble home; 
 
 Where willing- feet, that never needed resting-. 
 Found sweetest shelter 'neath its sunny dome. 
 
 The clouds g-o by, just as our fits of temper 
 Vanish before love's g^enial, welcome lig"ht; 
 
 And the red sun sinks softly 'neath earth's bosom. 
 And g-ray sky all around foretells the nig-ht. 
 
 Why should we g-rieve for some slig-ht pleasure ban- 
 ished? 
 
 'Tis but a dream at best, this life of ours; 
 And we are happier far, who save our pining-s, 
 
 And g-ather all the brig"htest, sweetest flowers. 
 
 Sweet hope still leads us, if our feet will follow, 
 Throug-h sunny paths and radiant heather bloom; 
 
 So that our hearts, in finding" such sweet comfort, 
 Will think the evening- bells ring- all too soon. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 217 
 
 PUSSY'S LESSON. 
 
 PUSSY, my dear little pussy, 
 Pray what are you going- to do ! 
 
 Your manners are very imperfect, 
 
 And you have such a faint little mew. 
 
 1 think I must g-ive you a lesson 
 
 On manners, and lang-uag-e and thing's; 
 Why, nearly everything- round us, 
 My dear little pussy cat, sing's. 
 
 Perhaps you may, too, in the future, 
 But I want you to learn rig-ht away; 
 
 And, as I'm g-oing- to teach you, 
 I mean to commence, puss, today. 
 
 We'll g-o out into the g-arden — 
 In the sunshine and f rag-rant air; 
 
 You may stand on the bench, you're so little. 
 And I'll sit in the g-arden chair. 
 
 Now you must be very quiet. 
 
 Till I hold up my fing-er — so; 
 O, it isn't for you to play with — 
 
 You're the stupidest cat I know. 
 
 Do you hear Nero, out in the barn-yard? 
 
 Well, he is not coming- this way. 
 You must really pay better attention. 
 
 And mind every word that I say. 
 
 Now, puss, you may tell me "Good morning-," 
 Just g-ive me your soft paw to shake; 
 
 I want you to be very lovely. 
 
 And please dear papa for my sake. 
 
218 A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 
 
 Very good. Now sing-, just a little, 
 
 To gfet your voice well in tune. 
 I think if you practice daily, 
 
 You can sing- very nicely by June. 
 
 O dear, there you are in the g^rasses. 
 
 Hunting- a miserable fly. 
 You are naug-hty and I shall not teach you, 
 
 Unless you will promise to try. 
 
 You won't try ? Then come here till I pet you, 
 
 My own dear Daisy Bell, 
 You don't know your lesson quite perfect. 
 
 But I'm sure you love me well. 
 
 So you may lie in the sunshine. 
 
 And blink and dream all day. 
 For when I scold — your so patient, 
 
 And don't have a word to sav. 
 
 RAIN DROPS. 
 
 Sparkling little rain drops. 
 
 Falling- on the ground. 
 You make such pretty music, 
 
 I love its merry sound. , 
 What are you all saying, 
 
 As you fall sc low? 
 Do you come to moisten 
 
 The flowers and make them grow? 
 Pitty, patter, patter, 
 
 I hear vou sav ag-ain — 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 21'^^ 
 
 O, what are you all doing-, 
 
 Little drops of rain ? 
 To the bubbling- streamlet 
 
 You will flow, I think, 
 And soon the little birdies 
 
 Will come to g-et a drink. 
 And thirsty hogs and cattle 
 
 May drink from well or stream. 
 Where some of you have fallen; 
 
 And, too, the g-rasses green 
 Absorb the drink you g-ive them, 
 
 And thank you, as you know, 
 By being- tall and stately, 
 
 And as good as they can grow. 
 So you see you are useful, rain drops, 
 
 Although you are so small, 
 And you add a blessing, rain drops, 
 
 Wherever you may fall. 
 
 OLD SMUT. 
 
 Now old Smut is dead, you tell me. 
 
 And I am so sorry today. 
 That I shall never more see him — 
 
 No more can he caper and play. 
 
 He was so gentle and lovjng. 
 
 And he knew funny tricks to perform; 
 And now he's been caught in a blizzard- 
 
 His death, the effects of the storm. 
 
220 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I know Toots will be dreadful lonesome; 
 
 I suppose he will howl all the day, 
 Since his dear old friend and companion 
 
 Has been suddenly taken away. 
 
 I hope you can keep the canary, 
 
 And the dog-, and a few of the hens; 
 
 I wish you had forty pig-g^ies, 
 
 And could fasten them all up in pens. 
 
 But Smut was a dear old playmate — 
 
 I'm sorry he went away; 
 But then we shall miss every treasure 
 
 That we have to relinquish, some day. 
 
 Out of our lives he has drifted — 
 Gone away into silence so deep 
 
 That we cannot hope to awaken 
 Him out of his quiet sleep. 
 
 We'll place a head-board above him, 
 
 In token of memory fond. 
 For when he was here among- us. 
 
 To each loving- word he'd respond. 
 
 So, thoug-h he has left us in sorrow. 
 Our hearts still in memory see 
 
 The dear old fellow and playmate, 
 As g-ay as he used to be. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 221 
 
 MY OLD FRIEND JIM. 
 
 He was slender, tall and thin, 
 
 Was this friend of mine, this old-time Jim. 
 
 And he reg^arded me, I guess. 
 
 In the lig-ht I did him, or more, or less. 
 
 We went to school in the same house, too, 
 And when I was saucy, or sad, or blue, 
 He was sure to come, with a comical g'rin. 
 To cheer me up, did slender Jim. 
 
 One day we'd a lesson hard to learn — 
 
 I failed to recite when it came my turn; 
 
 I never dared to look at him. 
 
 But I knew he was there, was black-haired Jim. 
 
 Then at recess he came in hig-h glee, 
 And gave me a map he had drawn for me, 
 But I threw it down on the dusty floor, 
 And declared I'd not have it, o'er and o'er. 
 
 He looked quite sober, did faithful Jim, 
 But I just made a wry face at him. 
 At singing school one moonlight night. 
 He suddenly asked me if he might 
 
 Go home with me. Of course 'twas fair. 
 And so I told him I didn't care; 
 But he did not catch the words I said. 
 And so we both w^ent home alone instead. 
 
 And then he was cross as he could be. 
 
 But I was not to blame, you see. 
 
 He lost no chance to vex me then, 
 
 And he never was such a good friend again. 
 
222 A BUNDIvi: OF TWIGS. 
 
 He called me names, did fierce-eyed Jim, 
 Until the boys were ashamed of him. 
 And made him be careful of this and that, 
 But the game we had played was, "Tit for tat." 
 
 So the g-ame was ended, for him and for me, 
 And we were no sadder, that I could see; 
 And I never acknowledged, to schoolmate Jim, 
 That I was the least bit proud of him. 
 
 He lives now, thousands of miles away. 
 And there, I hope, he'll conclude to stay; 
 For I'll like him better — think more of him, 
 Than when he is here — my old friend Jim. 
 
 INEVITABLE. 
 
 There's no use in pining and fretting 
 
 For thing's that will never come right; 
 You may as well give up the struggle, 
 
 Or aim to be first in the fight. 
 The sunlight is sure to come after 
 
 The tempest, and wind, and rain; 
 And the peace that we long for shall greet us. 
 
 If we do our work over again. 
 There is no use in pining and scolding. 
 
 When some daily tasks go wrong; 
 We must sing, though often and often 
 
 There are false notes in our song. 
 So look to the right of the shadows, 
 
 If the hopeful things are few; 
 It will all come right in the future, 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 223 
 
 If we are leal and true. 
 True to our own rig-lit duties — 
 
 True to a friend, as a friend — 
 And we shall not need false courag^e 
 
 To keep us to the end. 
 His watchful care is above us — 
 
 His g*oodness e'er shall dwell 
 Around the ones who serve Him, 
 
 And that He has loved so well. 
 
 IN VAIN. 
 
 I STAND SO close beside you, dear, 
 
 That I could touch, with out-stretched hand. 
 Your own hand, dear, to clasp in mine, 
 
 But would you, knowing-, understand ? 
 
 Would you know all the chang-eful ways 
 My feet have g-one, in search of you? 
 
 Would you feel all the bliss and joy 
 Of believing- a dear one fond and true ? 
 
 Could you sound all the depths of wrong- 
 That I have felt, though by your side, 
 
 When all my tender acts of love 
 
 And g-entle questioning-s were denied? 
 
 And could you pierce the darkness, too, 
 That fell upon my heart at times. 
 
 When silence answered my vain calls. 
 
 Instead of Ivove's sweet, echoing- chimes? 
 
224 A BUNDIvE OE" TWIGS. 
 
 Ah ! could you, dear? and bring* to me 
 The peace and love I long* to know, 
 
 If I should reach to you my hand ? 
 'Twere joy indeed to have it so. 
 
 And 3^et, dear Heart, I would not bind 
 Your heart in fetters, love to keep; 
 
 Your feet, unused to rug"ged paths, 
 
 Would falter ere they climbed the steep. 
 
 I would not have you sorrowing*, dear, 
 For wrong's that you can never rig-ht; 
 
 You're only for the happier life. 
 
 And warmth and g*low of clear sunlig-ht. 
 
 And so I think you may not know — 
 God g-rant it so — the bitter pain 
 
 That I have felt in some sad hours. 
 Of loving* you, dear, all in vain. 
 
 WE SHALL ALL COME BACK AGAIN. 
 
 Where the fresh summer grasses are growing*, 
 And the pink blossoms from the trees 
 
 Are wafted in showers about us 
 With every passing* breeze. 
 
 Where the brooklet down in the meadow 
 
 Ripples along in its glee. 
 Where the birds, all through the summer. 
 
 Sing gayest for you and me. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 225 
 
 Where the lowing- cattle stand waiting- 
 
 For milking- time to come, 
 And the busy bees as they labor, 
 
 Kver drowsily hum. 
 
 Where the strawberries are the sweetest, 
 And the greenest g-arden spot 
 
 Is just beyond the door yard, 
 You remember it, do you not ? 
 
 Ah well, where everything- living-, 
 Is the best and dearest, 'tis plain 
 
 Sometime in our worldly travels 
 We will wander back again. 
 
 We shall long- ag-ain for the meadows, 
 Where the freshest berries g-rew, 
 
 And the well in the old south pasture. 
 And the old oaken bucket, too. 
 
 And ever so many attractions 
 That my pen will fail to write. 
 
 But if you just think them over. 
 You will dream of them tonig-ht. 
 
 So remember what I tell you. 
 
 Don't live your life in vain. 
 So that you'd be ashamed like 
 
 To ever g-o home ag-ain; 
 
 But keep a hearty interest 
 
 In your own dear kith and kin. 
 
 For I'm certain as I can be now 
 That we'll all come back a«-ain. 
 
226 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 NOT SATISFIED. 
 
 There is a nameless feeling' in my heart — 
 A longing- for some joy I hoped to know; 
 
 A dread of coming- days without love's lig-ht, 
 And years of restless wandering- to and fro'. 
 
 To know no tender friendliness of speech, 
 
 Or see a smile upon the kindly face, 
 That once broug-ht joy; now loneliness has come, 
 
 Since it has g-one from its accustomed place. 
 
 I list in vain to hear her footstep now, 
 
 Or g-entle voice, whose accents did but seem 
 
 Like fairy voices heard in woodland dell, 
 Or fancied echo of a pleasant dream. 
 
 Those clasping- hands, whose g-uiding- would have been 
 So firm, yet kind, throug-h all the ills of time. 
 
 Have other feet to g-uide in pleasant paths. 
 And there's no thoug-ht for any need of mine. 
 
 So I must journey on, in storm or calm. 
 Not knowing- if a change will ever come; 
 
 For there are duties waiting- for me now. 
 
 That spite of g-ain or loss must still be done. 
 
 Perhaps our paths may sometime cross again, 
 As drifting' boats pass on life's chang-ing- tide. 
 
 No more to dwell in far and separate ways. 
 But, in the rain or sunshine, side by side. 
 
A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 227 
 
 A WEDDING WISH. 
 
 May only sweetest flowers strew the path 
 Where your feet may in future be; 
 
 May richest blessingfs e'er be given, 
 To bring- pure joys to thine and thee. 
 
 May only sunlig-ht's mellowed g^leam 
 Fall where you gather up your sheaves, 
 
 And never ruthless touch of frost, 
 That sears the verdure of the leaves. 
 
 May all the future yet to come to thee, 
 
 Though fraught with seasons of dull care, 
 
 Be filled with a sweet trust in Him 
 
 Who guides you vi^here 'tis always fair. 
 
 WHO WON THE DAY? 
 
 O Jerry he was frisky, and Jerry he was ga-y, 
 
 And I wondered in the morning if he'd keep it up all day. 
 
 For he was a stubborn creetur, I knew for we'd had him 
 
 long. 
 But Ben thought he could manage, and he was stout and 
 
 strong. ' 
 
 So out in the field he drove him, at a slow, rambling gait, 
 And you would never imagine that a creetur that looked 
 so sedate, « 
 
 Could send things just a flyin', as I have seen him do; 
 A scatterin' the corn, plow, and makin' a big- ado. 
 
228 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But that day he worked and was quiet till they come up 
 
 at nig-ht, 
 And then the way he acted, just sot me all in a fright! 
 
 He got loose from the rope Ben was holdin', and then 
 
 just like a flash, 
 He more than went a sailin' around the barn w^ith a dash. 
 
 He run till he come to the pastur', the bars was up quite 
 
 hig-h, 
 Bue he crushed 'em down in a minute, as a elephant 
 
 would a fly. 
 
 The, boys said a span of horses couldn't a broke the poles 
 
 in that gate. 
 But where that Jerry wanted to go, he didn't mean to 
 
 wait 
 
 9 
 
 For any new-fangled notions o' undoin' gates and bars, 
 If you got in his way he'd throw you so high you could 
 see the stars. 
 
 He run till he got tired. Ben had no show at all. 
 And I just laughed and hollered, as I leaned 'gainst the 
 kitchen wall. 
 
 When he'd see the clubs a wavin', as he come up near 
 
 the barn. 
 He only dodged and bellered, he knew they'd do no harm. 
 
 He trampled the rows of potatoes, wherever his feet was 
 
 sot. 
 And he tore up the ground in places, fit for a garden 
 
 spot. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS 229 
 
 But at last He come to the barn yard, a puffin' and all 
 
 out of breath; 
 Sometime I expect that creetur will run himself to death. 
 
 And Benj'min tied him up then, so for a time he'd stay, 
 But the very next chance he gets, he'll up and run away. 
 
 He run till he wanted to stop, too, so it isn't for me to 
 
 say 
 Which had their way, my Benj'min, or the ox he drove 
 
 that day. 
 
 EXPECTATION. 
 
 She waited long at the window, 
 For the postman to come near, 
 
 For she expected a valentine 
 
 From the one, to her heart, most dear 
 
 At last he came; in a minute 
 She ran to the great hall door. 
 
 And said, with a smile bewitching, 
 "Why didn't you come before?" 
 
 He threw the mail in with a flourish, 
 And went whistling down the street, 
 
 Leaving the. blooming maiden 
 
 To her dreams and fancies sweet. 
 
 She opened her precious letter, 
 As she sat on the piano stool. 
 
 And all the dainty missive said, 
 Was: "Hello, my April Fool !'" 
 
230 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 THE WORLD IS WHITE AGAIN. 
 
 The nig-ht was filled with troubled dreams, 
 The shadows crept too near my heart; 
 
 And half forg-otten forms came, too, 
 
 That made me wake, and shrink, and start. 
 
 hideous scenes ! O darksome nig"ht, 
 That fretted all my peace away ! 
 
 1 could not rest until there came 
 
 The first lig"ht of awakening- day. 
 
 At length I roused me from my dreams — 
 
 Forth to my labor I must go — 
 And saw^ the outside world once more 
 
 Was covered w^ith a robe of snow. 
 
 The boug^hs of every tree were white* 
 With Nature's frost work of the nig-ht. 
 
 Filling- my soul, once dark with dread, 
 With heavenly visions of delight. 
 
 And now with kindliest word and deed, 
 
 I go to greet my fellow men. 
 For life seems fair, and sweet, and g'ood, 
 
 Since all the world is white again. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 231 
 
 WHAT HE LIKES. 
 
 I KNOW a pony that likes white sug-ar, 
 
 And candy, and cabbage, and radishes, too. 
 
 Have you a horse that likes such victuals ? 
 And do you feed him as well as I do? 
 
 He likes to run in the country meadows, 
 
 He can smell the corn by the roadside g-rowing- 
 
 He snuffs and sniffs the fragrant air, 
 
 On a summer day when the wind is blowing-. 
 
 He likes, Oh, ever so many thing's ! 
 
 He likes to run, and he likes to pla}'; 
 He likes to draw the carriag-e, or sleigh; 
 
 He likes to go on the road every day. 
 
 He likes it, sometimes, to be loose in the vard, 
 And romp and play on the fresh, green grass; 
 
 He rubs his nose on your arm if you're near, 
 And will try to kick you as you pass. 
 
 BARRIERS. 
 
 There are heights of strong distrust and doubt 
 Where weird fancies flit about, 
 
 I think you know. 
 And I again shall never be, 
 The one to do kind things for thee. 
 
 Since thou wouldst s:o. 
 
232 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 The chilling- winds of chang"ed love, 
 Ivike an untiring- homeless dove, 
 
 Flit here and there. 
 And aid to heig-hten thoug-hts and dreams. 
 That are disfig-ured memory scenes, 
 
 All fraug-ht with care. 
 
 After the burden of weary years. 
 And sad hours filled with bitter tears. 
 
 Proud scorn is king-. 
 For the joys we knew in the charmed past, 
 Were but shadows of bliss and could not last. 
 
 But they left a sting-. 
 
 And hig-h as the walls from earth to sky, 
 With never a hope to scale them by, 
 
 Are these barriers bold. 
 And over the roug-h untrodden track, 
 Or pleasant way, we'll never turn bacl'v 
 
 To that story old. 
 
 The pages we read are closed for aye, 
 Till the last of earth has passed away. 
 
 And all is well. 
 So I never shall chide — what need I say. 
 When these barriers shut me out from the way. 
 
 Of one who fell. 
 
A BUNDL,B OF TWIGS. 233 
 
 A CROSS BIRDIE. 
 
 "Cheje-wE, chee-we, chee-wit, 
 Summer has come but I don't care a bit; 
 Whortle te whortle te whoo, 
 "Who in the world are you?" 
 
 "Bob White, Bob White, keep still, 
 
 Stop singing on my g-reen hill; 
 
 You needn't sing* it, and make the woods ring- it — 
 
 We don't want rain, we are ill." 
 
 "O dear, how hot the sun shines ! 
 
 It's too warm to swing in bush, tree, or vines. 
 
 And that old cat will mew; 
 
 Keep still — O pray do." 
 
 "See here, little birdie mine," 
 The mamma bird said, with a shake of her head, 
 "You needn't sing; put your head neath your wing. 
 And march straight to bed." 
 
 THE MODEL FISHERMAN. 
 
 With hook and line, and worms for bait. 
 
 He sat out in the sun, 
 Until the fish all thought, I guess. 
 
 That he was there for fun. 
 
 The scorching rays of sunlight fell 
 
 Upon his back and head. 
 Until I'm sure, down in his heart, 
 
 Was a wish that they were dead. 
 
234 A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. 
 
 At last, a-ha, he felt a jerk 
 
 Upon the line in hand, 
 And, with a dextrous move, he tried 
 
 To bring- his fish to land. 
 
 With eag-erness he pulled and pulled, 
 
 But, poor, deluded man, 
 There was nothing- on his hook at all, 
 
 But an empty oyster can. 
 
 O YOU WERE ALL THE WORLD TO ME. 
 
 O YOU were all the world to me. 
 
 My lover fond and true. 
 But now love's lig-ht is blurred and dim, 
 
 The sky has lost its blue. 
 Many boats have been wrecked on life's rude sea; 
 Since you were all the world to me. 
 
 The planets move in their wide space. 
 
 And men their way pursue. 
 And fickle hearts still beat and throb. 
 
 And some of life is false — some true. 
 But from its ills I would not flee, 
 For you were all the world to me. 
 
 The sun had g-leams of fretted g-old, 
 
 For places else all g-loom, 
 For thoug-hts of g-entleness and peace, 
 
 My chang-eful heart had room. 
 But I'm no more happy and care-free. 
 Since you were all the world to me. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 235 
 
 Ah, you were dear long- years ago, 
 
 But now my life knows sweet content. 
 
 To all that once was sad and drear 
 This is a blessed supplement. 
 
 And life has lessons g-lad and free, 
 
 Thoug"h you're not all the world to me. 
 
 THE FARMER. 
 
 The merry farmer at close of day, 
 Comes sing-ing" homeward, blithe and g"ay. 
 
 Happy he seems thoug-h weary care. 
 In his day's work has had a share. 
 
 Siag- on, O men with faces tanned, 
 Somewhere, sometime, you must command. 
 
 You are workers in fields of g^olden grain. 
 And your harvest will be a wealth of gain. 
 
 God grant you strength through coming time. 
 To brave rude storms, without sunshiije. 
 
 May you ever sing a song as gay, 
 
 As the home-coming brings at close of day. 
 
236 ^ A BUNDIyE O^ TWIGS. 
 
 1 AM POOR. 
 
 I AM poor, but I know that Thou dost love me, 
 
 Dost care for me day by day; 
 Thou wilt send, in showers of blessing's, 
 
 Gladness to brig"hten my way. 
 
 I know Thou hast need of my service, 
 Thoug-h simple. For nothing- mete. 
 
 I am only an humble pupil, 
 
 To be taught at the Master's feet. 
 
 Poor and unlearned and selfish — 
 
 Not fit for the King- to see — 
 Yet, one of His blessed children 
 
 I am striving- ever to be. 
 
 LOOKING BEYOND. 
 
 I CARE not though the sky be overcast. 
 
 And all your friends but pleasant, summer dreams; 
 I claim a token of remembrance fond. 
 
 For other days, for better, happier scenes. 
 
 I care not for the "Past;" it soon will be 
 A pag-e forg-otten, in life's chang-ing- book. 
 
 I claim now only friendship's gentle words. 
 And when we meet, but kindly deed and look. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 237 
 
 I look to future days that shall be fair, 
 
 And newer friends, with hearts as fond and true 
 
 As those we knew in olden time and way, 
 
 Thoug-h some, perchance, should be as faithless, too. 
 
 But there is gladness and a happy world. 
 
 If w^e ne'er listen to the undertone 
 Of disappointed hopes and broken trust, 
 
 And in bringing- others joy, should find our own. 
 
 And you will be my friend throug^h all the years — 
 
 I know you never can forg^et to be — 
 For truth is rig-ht and falsehood cannot stay 
 
 Where there are hearts filled with sincerity. 
 
 Clouds cannot dim the perfect faith and trust 
 I have in friends whose kindness will not sway 
 
 With every passing* breeze of scorn or hate, 
 But whose love will sustain me all the way. 
 
 HOW CAN WE COME. 
 
 O PASTORS with your stores of sacred knowledg-e. 
 
 Of joy and love — of sin and all its cost, 
 Can you tell us of a way to reach Him, 
 
 Have you e'er drifted tempest-tossed? 
 Have you been in the storm and darkness, 
 
 And heard His gentle "Peace be still;" ■ 
 In all the trials been submissive, 
 
 Bowed meekly down to own His will ? 
 
238 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 How can we come, when our feet are fast sinking-, 
 
 Beneath the world's alluring- pleasure sands ? 
 While we, with feeble arms uplifted, 
 
 Can not quite reach these wounded, bleeding- hands. 
 How can we come, bearing- the heavy burdens 
 
 That daily make us weary e'en of life, 
 How can we smile amid the sin and sickness, 
 
 And peaceful be in every worldly strife ? 
 
 Our eyes are dim, and hidden seems the pathway 
 
 That leads to some fair distant Glory Land. 
 And how can we, amid the clouds and doubting-. 
 
 Come, when we do not understand ? 
 A little way, they tell us, yet the journey, 
 
 We know is long- with thorny paths to tread. 
 And nig-ht will come with all its shadows. 
 
 How can we come, will there be lig-ht ahead ? 
 
 Will there be flowers when we are tired of deserts, 
 
 Sweet music when our souls do thirst for song-, 
 Hope near, when we are all despairing-, 
 
 Courag-e through all to make us strong- ? 
 If not, how can we come proclaiming- 
 
 The rig-ht to praise His sacred, holy name, 
 Who for our sakes the Book records us, 
 
 Once to this sinful earth, a Wanderer came. 
 
 How can we come, so weak and all unworthy, 
 
 Too frail to bear our portion of the cross, 
 Faltering- 'twixt the wide and narrow pathway ? 
 
 In one is found salvation — the other, pain and loss. 
 Time passes on and still we doubting- question, 
 
 How can we come, not knowing- any way, 
 Must we but pray and trust in His g-ood promise. 
 
 Until the dawning- of another day ? 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 239 
 
 IN JUNE. 
 
 The rain shuts out the sunshine, 
 The flowers bend and nod; 
 
 The grass is g-rowing- greener, 
 Upon the upturned sod. ' 
 
 The birds of every color 
 ^ Flit blithely round and round, 
 And make our hearts glad — joyful, 
 With cheeriness of sound. 
 
 The flowers nod and quiver 
 
 Beneath my outstretched hand; 
 
 well we know God reigneth. 
 O'er all this favored land. 
 
 1 watch the birds that carol 
 In merry, joyful tune. 
 
 And it fills my heart with gladness. 
 This happy, happy June. 
 
 ROUND ROLLS THE BALL. 
 
 Round rolls the ball, 
 So light and so red; 
 
 I can toss it, you see, 
 As high as your head. 
 
 Now down on the floor. 
 
 It rolls far away. 
 Can you run and catch it. 
 
 While we are at play? 
 
240 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Now throw the ball g^ently 
 To "my hands, and see 
 
 If I cannot catch it. 
 
 Ag-ain — one, two, three. 
 
 What fun, O my baby, 
 To play with the ball, 
 
 As upward it g'oes, 
 
 To rebound 'gainst the wall. 
 
 Once more I will toss it 
 
 So g-ently to you; 
 Now you toss it back — 
 
 That's a nice way to do. 
 
 "TRE LE, TRE LE." 
 
 I ONCE knew a boy so full of his fun, 
 He'd laugh and play and jump and run, 
 He always would answer as nice as could be. 
 But to me it was alw^ays, "tre le, ah, tre le." 
 
 If you -ever see him I know you can tell 
 Just what he will say, for he likes to so well. 
 He will wink with one eye, so cute, don't you see. 
 And then he will warble, "Tre le, tre le." 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS 241 
 
 WORDS. 
 
 Words ! Ah me, what tiny things, 
 Yet they have the swiftest wings. 
 Rushing- over every track — 
 We can never take them back. 
 
 Unkind words, what harm they do, 
 Hasty words, so oft untrue; 
 Words of friendship, words of love, 
 Words that lead our thoughts above. 
 
 Words of promise that shall rise 
 O'er misfortune's changeful skies; 
 Pleasant words, so kindly spoken — 
 Ivinks in memory's chain unbroken. 
 
 Kindly words, their power we feel, 
 Countless wounds their presence heal; 
 Soothing balm to every heart. 
 They greet us and sweet peace impart. 
 
 Words, words, words, as time goes by. 
 We will remember, you and I, 
 Though they're small, alas, alack. 
 We can never take them back. 
 
 GOD KNEW IT WOULD BE SO. 
 
 If trials oppress and exhaust us — 
 If we s«e but the darker side — 
 
 ^Tis our own fault if we languish. 
 And the better gifts are denied. 
 
2^2 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 God guides us, if we would but listen 
 
 To His tones, so low and sweet. 
 And shows us a plainer pathway 
 
 For our weak and wayward feet. 
 
 Out of the harshness of discord — 
 
 Of fretfulness and pain, 
 He untangles the thread, and starts us 
 
 On the pattern of peace again. 
 
 He knows we are frail, and are tempted,* 
 But He knows that our hearts will respond 
 
 To the precious words He has given — 
 A beacon that shows us beyond 
 
 The trifling of earth's pleasures. 
 
 To a fairer land of rest. 
 That we shall reach at the sunset, 
 
 Where our sorrows shall be confessed. 
 
 Where we shall meet our loved ones. 
 
 In a land undimmed by night; 
 Where never a tear of sadness 
 
 Shall mar the heart's delight. 
 
 So we will love and trust Him — 
 
 His tender guidance know, 
 For, whatever the gaining or losing, 
 
 God knew it would be so. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. '243 
 
 I'VE DONE WHAT HE COMMANDED. 
 
 I've done what He commanded, 
 I've been baptised in His name, 
 
 I've asked to be forgiven. 
 
 For my worldliness and blame. 
 
 I hope to be one of His children, 
 
 And serve Him leal and true. 
 Performing- each task He gives me. 
 
 As He would have me do. 
 
 I am journeying- to that country 
 
 Where is never a clouded life. 
 Never a sound of discord. 
 
 Or unhappiness or strife. 
 
 But only bliss eternal, 
 
 And songs of joy that thrill, 
 E^ach heart that's filled with His praises — 
 
 How gladly we'll bow to His will. 
 
 Yes, we who obey His commandments. 
 Shall find, with our souls "It is well," 
 
 And when our trials are ended. 
 We with Him shall forever dwell. 
 
 TOMMY RIDDLE. 
 
 I CALL, him Tommy Riddle, 
 For he was a riddle to me; 
 
 He would do the kindest things, boys. 
 When he knew no one could see. 
 
244 • A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And when I'd ask him why, boys, 
 
 He'd only smile and say: 
 "Why my mother always taught me 
 
 To be g"ood and kind every day." 
 
 Now do you know this Tommy, 
 
 Or a boy of any name. 
 Who is careful, and upright, and honest, 
 
 Every day the same? 
 
 If you do, just show him to me, sir, 
 
 For he is the boy for me. 
 Whether he is Tommy Riddle, 
 
 Or Billy, or Pat McGee. 
 
 SING. 
 
 Sing little bird. 
 
 And sing- little boy. 
 For your hearts are both ready 
 
 To burst with their joy. 
 
 Sing- out in wild g"lee. 
 For the children to hear, 
 
 For this is the g-laddest 
 Time of the year. 
 
 Sing- for mamma. 
 
 And sing- for papa; 
 Sing-, murmuring- waters. 
 
 That g-urg-le, ha ! ha ! 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 245 
 
 Sing" little bird, 
 
 And sing little boy, 
 For the whole world 
 
 Is filled with its joy. 
 
 A CARELESS WORD. 
 
 'TwAS but a careless word of mine, 
 That fell from lips so long- unkissed, 
 
 My heart was lonely in the strife, 
 
 Dear home, and love, I so much missed. 
 
 Yes it was wrong, unkind of me, 
 To wound a loving" heart and true. 
 
 But doubt not that heart-shadows come. 
 When evening-'s gfray shuts out the blue. 
 
 O loving voice, O gentle hands, 
 
 Your tender care of me alway 
 Has been a token sure and fond. 
 
 Of true affection day by day. 
 
 Have I by careless word of mine 
 
 Wounded and crushed earth's fairest flower; 
 Are all the loving" deeds and words. 
 
 To vanish as a summer hour ? 
 
 Ah no, 'twere hard enoug"h to bear 
 This sense of being- in the wrong. 
 
 Ivove, grant me your foregiveness now, 
 And we shall meet with smile and song-. 
 
246 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 SEPARATED. 
 
 Kind hands that once clasped ours so fondly, 
 With strength of youth and heartiness of love, 
 
 No more respond to greeting's of affection — 
 Then how can we our tenderness e'er prove ? 
 
 And that dear voice, that sang old songs so sweetlv, 
 Ivong years ago when life seemed fresh and fair. 
 
 We hear it nevermore at evening; 
 
 Yet once — it eased our load of clinging care. 
 
 And why this prolonged silence, strange and chilling-, 
 
 As if we all had treated you so ill ? 
 Why do you never come again, in kindness, 
 
 And see that we are true, and love you still ? 
 
 Yes, dear one, hearts are just as true and steadfast 
 
 As in the faded light of olden day. 
 Aching sometimes, in loneliness and silence. 
 
 To think of you so often, far away. 
 
 Ever, in 'all the time before us. 
 
 Shall our lives lie in far and different spheres? 
 Can no fond hand e'er lead you back to us, dear ? 
 
 Will you not heed our prayers or bitter tears ? 
 
 Brothers and sisters, now no longer happy, 
 If you still wish to grieve us as we go; 
 
 Never to meet in peace and joy of gladness — 
 Never the cherished home delights to know. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 247 
 
 MARRIED. 
 
 Dear friend, so many days have passed, 
 Since I last wrote a line to you; 
 
 You may think I have quite forg-otten, 
 Am very careless and untrue! . 
 
 But ah ! My heart is filled v^ith sadness, 
 Even as when hot tears I shed, 
 
 To think that you had g-one away; 
 
 But we would still h^ friends you said. 
 
 x\nd so I cannot blame you, friend. 
 For all the g^ladness you may know; 
 
 'Tis only right, and good, and just. 
 For I believe God wills it so. 
 
 IVIY SHEAVES. 
 
 I SANG a song- at break of day, 
 
 'Twas full of mirth and joy and gflee. 
 The rosy beams of morning- sun 
 
 Made all the world seem fair to me. 
 And when the noon came with its heat. 
 
 And harvest fields of g-leaming- g-old 
 Waited the sickle, I did sing-. 
 
 And careless hands did idly fold. 
 
 Ah well, thoug-ht I, there still will be 
 Knoug-h when those at work have g-one, 
 
 And I will wait and gather mine. 
 When it is cool at set of sun. 
 
248 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But when the sun sank in the west, 
 Great shadows hung- o'er vale and lea, 
 
 Where all the golden g-rain had been, 
 And all the darkness frightened me. 
 
 I could not g"o among" the thorns, 
 
 In lonely silence, then said I, 
 I'll wait until another morn, 
 
 All will be better by and by. 
 But all the brig-ht days came and went, 
 
 And the night came when I must bring- 
 The sheaves I'd gathered for His home, 
 
 And I had none, yet, I could sing. 
 
 But ah, my voice was harsh and loud, 
 
 The clear notes of the morn had fled 
 Like the gay rose-leaves that so soon, 
 
 Are scattered, faded, faint and dead. 
 And so in gloom I weep and sigh 
 
 For golden grain — ^for vanished song. 
 And precious day now all passed by. 
 
 No place have I among' that throng". 
 
 A MONOTONE. 
 
 The springtime came, with mud and rain, 
 
 The birds all sang together. 
 But we all laughed right merrily, 
 
 Nor heeded stormy weather. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 249 
 
 "Were I to name the deepest joy 
 
 That e'er has flown to me, 
 'T would be the tender memory 
 
 Of the love I've borne for thee." 
 
 And so, while springing- grasses crept, 
 
 And looked up to the sun, 
 I listened to the world's g-lad voice, 
 
 Till the summer time had come. 
 
 And sang* in mirth, with bird and bee. 
 
 My heart was filled with peace. 
 I hoped that memory of you 
 
 Would never, never cease. 
 
 I only dreamed. Ivove's budding- time. 
 That swiftly, lightly came, 
 
 Filled all my happy, careless life, 
 So free from wealth and fame. 
 
 Until the summer time had passed — 
 The skies had changed to gray; 
 
 The flowers of love, and fondness, too, 
 Had vanished quite away. 
 
 I sat, in loneliness and grief. 
 To read past memories o'er; 
 
 But still I knew that love had flown, 
 And would return no more. 
 
250 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 AN EARLY BLOSSOM. 
 
 Dear little hyacinth under the snow, 
 You are early awake, I know. 
 
 I fear the late snow will soil your blue dress, 
 It is so cold in its worldliness. 
 
 But keep your g-reen leaves for the summer showers, 
 And get a new dress for the summer flowers. 
 
 THANKFULNESS. 
 
 And I am thankful. Lord, to be 
 Just anywhere, to work for Thee. 
 
 Just anywhere may I be led. 
 
 If I, by Thine own hand am fed. 
 
 Just anywhere, if I may see 
 
 The flowers Thou makest, all so free. 
 
 The grass to nod, the wind to blow, 
 'And all because Thou willst it so. 
 
 In all the bright, green world around — 
 From Nature's voices that resound— 
 
 The happy children — bird and bee — 
 These but remind us, Lord, of Thee. 
 
 They tell us, in choicest speech, 
 
 The lessons they were meant to teach — 
 
 That humble, patient, we must be. 
 To dwell, in gladness, nearer Thee. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 251 
 
 A BIT OF AUTUMN. 
 
 Thb world is changing- about me — 
 Its colors are green and gold; 
 
 And I feel that the varying shadows 
 Make the earth seem very old. 
 
 My days of true joy are over — 
 The pleasures of morn are past; 
 
 And I know life's evening shadows 
 Their sadness around me cast. 
 
 Again the mirth and the music 
 
 Are lingering in my ears, 
 But they waken olden memories, 
 
 That fill my eyes with tears. 
 
 IN OTHER DAYS. 
 
 In other days, when shadows creep 
 Around the way your feet may tread, 
 
 Will you remember joy or bliss. 
 That lived in days forever fled ? 
 
 Will ever kind recurring thought 
 Lighten the labor of your way ? 
 
 Will memory gleams of pleasantness 
 Brighten the twilight's purpling ray? 
 
 In other days will you recall 
 
 The fragrant flowers, we loved so well ? 
 Will ever sorrow for the past 
 
 Within your heart one moment dwell ? 
 
252 A BUNDIyE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Will longing- ever fill your life 
 To feel the clasp of hands again 
 
 That helped you kindly in the past, 
 Eased all j^our sorrowing- and pain ? 
 
 In other days. Ah me, dear one, 
 
 I sig-h to think what might have been; 
 
 And sad with hopeless grieving yet. 
 The ligh of peace grows strangely dim. 
 
 In other days. Ah other lives 
 
 Shall know the blessedness of yours^ 
 
 While my feet, wandering alway, 
 As a misguided spirit soars. 
 
 I can not tell what you will do. 
 
 What you or I shall think or dream, 
 
 For all things change, for good or ill, 
 As we go on from scene to scene. 
 
 In other days. I wish you well. 
 
 If Fortune smiles I shall be glad, 
 And trust that life will fairer seem. 
 
 For the fond friendship you have had. 
 
 LOOK UP. 
 
 I CARE not for all of the darkness, 
 
 There is ever gladness for me. 
 The whitest ships are sailing 
 Over the calm summer sea. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 253 
 
 And if you will look up to the starlig-ht, 
 Will think of the love you still know, 
 
 There is nothing* but blessings of kindness 
 In all the fair world as you g-o. 
 
 LOST. 
 
 Give him a push to help him along, 
 Whether his way be smooth or rough; 
 
 Though he has fallen, never mind — 
 To be forsaken is not enough. 
 
 Why should you care which way he goes ? 
 
 You have comfort and friends and home; 
 Why stop to care for a drunkard's woes — 
 
 Leave him to fight his way alone. 
 
 Did he once know a mother's love ? 
 
 Was once a father's joy and pride, 
 And sisters and brothers with loving care, 
 
 With peace and virtue walked side by side ? 
 
 If you remember, a time like this, 
 Drive the haunting thought away; 
 
 He is nearing a drunkard's grave — 
 Why should you lift him up today? 
 
 If you hear, don't heed his prayers for bread; 
 
 Let them fall on a heart of stone. 
 Leave him there in the muddy street. 
 
 Despised and forsaken, to die alone. 
 
254 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Far from a mother's tender care, 
 And all that once he held so dear; 
 
 No friend to g"ive him a helping* hand — 
 None but the angels to shed a tear. 
 
 Smile on in your joy, and forg-et if you can, 
 Rumseller, in your g-reed for g"old. 
 
 How you have ruined a fellow man — 
 
 Ivured him away from the home's dear fold. 
 
 How a demon was made of the fair, young boy, 
 When you gave him the poison wine to drink. 
 
 Do not touch him; your work is done. 
 For he is standing on ruin's brink. 
 
 O, the horrible ruin that is wrought 
 O'er all this world by the sale of rum ! 
 
 But the dealer in souls don't seem to think 
 Of the wicked work that he has done. 
 
 He little dreams of a time to come. 
 When friend and foe together meet. 
 
 To be judged by God, who knows all wrong. 
 Then righteous punishment will be complete. 
 
A bundive: of twigs. 255 
 
 TREASURES. 
 
 The sun was slowly fading-, 
 
 From a sky ting^ed with crimson and gold, 
 While up the distant hill tops 
 
 Crept the shadows, fold on fold. 
 A woman g-azed on its beauty, 
 
 And dreamily wondered why 
 We let our chances, like sunbeams. 
 
 Silently pass us by. 
 
 She took from the little table 
 
 Her cherished treasure-trove, 
 A casket g-iven her by a friend, 
 
 As a token of her love. 
 But 'twas years since her eyes had feasted 
 
 On the treasures hidden there, 
 Over which sad tears had fallen 
 
 When she laid them away with care. 
 
 It was a mimic castle. 
 
 Stored with curious things- 
 Letters from parents and schoolmates, 
 
 Faded flowers and broken ring-s. 
 How cheering were some of those letters,. 
 
 Full of hope, g-lad and free. 
 Though the merry one who sent them 
 
 Was far across the sea. 
 
 There w^ere some boyish letters. 
 From her youngest brother Joe, 
 
 Now his dark hair is streaked with silver. 
 And his step is growing slow. 
 
256 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Ah, how time has changed the children, 
 And made their 3^oung- hearts old, 
 
 They grow busy, and earnest and world-like, 
 Away from the home's dear fold. 
 
 There, too, were old love letters, 
 
 With the writing- faded and dim. 
 She was reading- the last one slowly 
 
 When her husband walked softly in. 
 "No need to keep them, darling-. 
 
 Their story I know of old, 
 I have the writer with me. 
 
 She is worth her weig-ht in g-old. 
 
 "Burn the faded blossoms 
 
 You have kept so many years; 
 They seem to me as tokens 
 
 Of sad hearts and bitter tears. 
 They seem like clouds that darken 
 
 The sky on a summer's day. 
 And now with the evening-s shadows 
 
 We will put them all away." 
 
 With lig-ht and g-entle fing-ers. 
 
 She placed them out of sig-ht, 
 In the darksome little prison 
 
 Unshared by one ray of lig-ht. 
 She turned smiling- to the lover, 
 
 Growm old in years, we say, 
 But to her as young- and handsome 
 
 As on their wedding- day. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 257 
 
 TIRED. 
 
 Poor, tired heart that needs some resting-, 
 
 Poor, tired eyes with tears g"rown dim. 
 So tired of this life and its trials, 
 
 Of all its weakness and its sin. 
 Along- a pathway all so thorny, 
 
 'Tis sad to find no brigfht sunshine. 
 No roses 'mid the storm-tossed leaflets, 
 
 But fearful ravag-es of time. 
 
 You hear the roar of ang-ry billows. 
 
 That round your pathway foam and fret, 
 There may be rest, sometime, and sunshine. 
 
 But love and patience say, not yet. 
 Not yet must the dark cloud be lifted. 
 
 Or bligihting- sting- of sorrow's dart 
 Be taken, e'en for one short moment, 
 
 From off your heavy burdened heart. 
 
 The brig-ht spring-time of life has vanished, 
 The harvest time is passing- by; 
 
 K'en now the sombre shades of evening- 
 Are darkening- the crimson sky. 
 
 The sun of life is turning- westward. 
 Soon will its rays be lost from sight, 
 
 But rest awhile with your dear loved ones. 
 Before you bid them all g-ood nig-ht. 
 
258 A. BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 Some think life is only a plaything-, 
 
 To carelessly throw away, 
 Never thinking- they'll be reg-retting- 
 
 The time they have lost today. 
 The chances for g-ood are unheeded — 
 
 Passed by like a g-leam of the sun, 
 And at evening- they silently wonder 
 
 Why the day was a fruitless one. 
 
 On the work w^e are doing-, schoolmates. 
 
 Great care should be bestowed, 
 For the narrow path we are treading-, 
 
 Leads up to a hig-her road. 
 Now, indeed, is life's spring-time; 
 
 Good seed should fall from each hand, 
 That will spring- up in fruitful blessing-s. 
 
 All over the sunny land. 
 
 Yet often we g-row strang-ely weary 
 
 Of school and its busy care, 
 And think we mig-ht rest always, 
 
 'Neath skies that are brig-ht and fair. 
 But we would soon tire of pleasure. 
 
 And life would seem only a jest. 
 If we did not employ our talents 
 
 To fulfill our Lord's behest. 
 
 In the school of life before us, 
 There are bitter lessons to learn; 
 
 Some clouds to darken our pathway. 
 No matter which way we turn. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS ^59 
 
 Here leads the path to g"lory, 
 O'er many a frowning- peak. 
 
 Here is crime and ruin, 
 
 F^or those who pleasures seek. 
 
 We despair of finding- a station 
 
 In the hig-her ranks of life, 
 Or look beyond the present mist. 
 
 And the busy, bustling- strife. 
 "They say there's a g-ood time coming-" 
 
 "They say," but when will it come? 
 When our eyes are beyond the seeing-, 
 
 And our weary lips are dumb? 
 
 We must learn to brave all dang-er, 
 
 And crush down the foes we meet. 
 That, after the g-loomy battle, 
 
 Our triumph may be complete. 
 Our burdens will seem lig-ht and easy, 
 
 If we take them up with a smile, 
 And think, whatever our hardships, 
 
 'Tis just for a little while. 
 
 We do not learn time's value 
 
 When we are young and g-ay; 
 'Tis only when the brig-htness 
 
 Of morning- has fled away, 
 That we see the eastward shadows 
 
 Iveng-thening- far and wide. 
 And know that ours will soon be lost 
 
 In the shadow of eventide. 
 
260 A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 
 
 The last day, with its sunshine and shadow, 
 
 Laden with smiles and tears, 
 Soon will be quietly mingled 
 
 With the days of other years. 
 It has been a day of sadness. 
 
 For we must say g-oodbye 
 To those who have patiently fed us, 
 
 Of the fruits that never die. 
 
 Ivet them close their books for the present, 
 
 And rest their weary heads. 
 Let us repay them by holding- 
 
 The g^ood their lives have shed; 
 Working till life's school shall be ended- — 
 
 Its bitter lessons o'er, 
 And the waiting- boatman shall row us 
 
 To our rest on the other shore. 
 
 MY HEART IS WITH HER STILL. 
 
 I KNOW she is quietly sleeping 
 
 Away from our tender care, 
 Out of the reach of our clinging arms. 
 
 And the voices of song and prayer; 
 
 That the grasses are growing above her, 
 That the birds sing wild and free. 
 
 That the crickets chirp near her pillow. 
 That I cannot even see. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 261 
 
 I know she is free from sorrow, 
 
 And every earthly ill, 
 But through the days that linger 
 
 My heart is with her still. 
 
 Out of life's fitful gladness 
 
 Sweet memories of her 
 Often come to cheer me 
 
 And make my pulses stir. 
 
 Of the purity, beauty and kindness 
 
 Of her life she has left a share 
 That, like an unseen presence, 
 
 Sometimes follows me everywhere. 
 
 And I thank God that he gave me 
 
 Her love for a little while. 
 I shall love her always, though never 
 
 On earth shall I see her smile. 
 
 The wind whistles down the chimney, 
 
 The light of day has gone. 
 And yet my wandering fancies, 
 
 Lead me on and on. 
 
 Back again to the gladness, 
 
 I knew when she was here, 
 To the singing and the sunshine. 
 
 That filled the time, year after year. 
 
 Today I saw the white pillars, 
 
 Agleam up there on the hill, 
 And all day I've been thinking about her. 
 
 For my heart is with her still. 
 
262 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 [Kindly dedicated to Miss Lena Clark, on her sixteenth birthday, Oct. 9th, 1880.1 
 
 Thb faint light of the morning- 
 
 Chang-es to brig-hter day, 
 With merry sunbeams chasing- 
 
 The darker shades away. 
 
 So it is with a sunny nature, 
 
 That looks on the brig-hter side; 
 Ivike a beacon light it guides us, 
 
 Across a stormy tide. 
 
 Now in youth's joyous springtime 
 
 The heart will be light and free, 
 E)re tossed about by the billows ^ 
 
 That foam on life's restless sea. 
 
 So, gather with careless fingers 
 
 The flowers around your way; 
 'Twill be sweet to remember their fragrance. 
 
 Though their beauty will soon decay. 
 
 Birthdays are only milestones 
 
 On the journey from youth to age. 
 
 Yet we eagerly greet their coming. 
 As we turn from page to page. 
 
 Some pages we treasure in memory. 
 
 For the happy joys they hold— 
 The echo of gentle voices 
 
 Whose music will ne'er g-row old. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 263 
 
 Youth is the time to labor — 
 
 To work and patiently wait; 
 Thoug-h the pathway seems uneven, 
 
 His hand will make it straight. 
 
 Out of the tang-led meshes, 
 
 Woven with careless hand. 
 Bright visions will sometimes cluster, 
 
 Like dreams of a sunny land. 
 
 The pictures of life that are sweetest. 
 
 Are mingled with sadness, too; 
 The flowers we think the fairest, 
 
 Are moistened with tears of dew. 
 
 E^vening- shades will ling-er 
 
 Nearest the setting- sun. 
 And there, your life work ended. 
 
 Calmly waiting- the "welcome home." 
 
 WE LET THE DAYS GO BY. 
 
 Peaci^FuIv, or sad, or joyous. 
 
 Winter, or summer or rain. 
 
 The days and nig-hts are bring-ing- 
 
 Their share of toil and pain. 
 
 But what care we for the weather 
 
 If we can be tog-ether, 
 
 We heed not the change of seasons. 
 
 But let the days g-o by. 
 
264 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 Today bring-s a shadowed picture — 
 Misery want and woe. 
 Do I think, dear, had I known it, 
 •I would have had it so? 
 I can not tell as I'm singing-, 
 The joy-bells so loudly are ring-ing*, 
 But we'll let others tell the story, 
 While the days are gfoing- by. 
 
 If all the sunshine were taken 
 
 From our sky, and but clouds remain. 
 
 How should we bear the darkness, 
 
 How keep out the rain ? 
 
 We should be sad for a season. 
 
 Have so g^ood a reason; 
 
 Then we should laug*h tog^ether 
 
 As the days go swiftly by. 
 
 We a're no better or truer, 
 Than hundreds we meet every day; 
 Then why should I mourn about you 
 If you ceased to come this way. 
 Why fret at the wind and weather, 
 If we cannot be tog^ether ? 
 The world moves on as lig^htly 
 As the days g"o hurrying- by. 
 
 THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. 
 
 Today IVe been watching- the snow-flakes, 
 
 As they sifted softly down. 
 With a pure, white mantle covering- 
 
 The autumn leaflets brown. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 265 
 
 And I noticed the cHildren's footsteps 
 Were filled with their tiny forms; 
 
 Who would think that these frost feathers 
 Could ever make rude storms. 
 
 There's been joy today in the school house — 
 
 Reg"ret has few shadows cast; 
 E)ach heart is filled with gladness, 
 
 For this week is the last. 
 
 With relief our books will be gathered, 
 
 And eagerly laid away; 
 There'll be naught but an empty school room 
 
 To welcome the twilight gray. 
 
 But let us bear in mind, schoolmates, 
 That, though for a time we are free. 
 
 We are now preparing for the work of life. 
 And the years pass rapidly. 
 
 We must not strive in our labor 
 
 To win only gold and fame; 
 Prized above these fading treasures 
 
 Is a good and honored name. 
 
 Now is the time to labor. 
 
 To learn the way of truth. 
 The fingers of old age are too feeble 
 
 To pick up the threads of youth 
 
 And fill out the path with wisdom 
 
 That we passed but did not see 
 There'll be nothing then, dear schoolmates, 
 
 But regrets for you and me. 
 
266 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But success will crown our efforts, 
 
 If our time is well spent here; 
 We shall gain new strength in vacation, 
 
 To work throug-h another year. 
 
 Our teachers have done their duty. 
 
 Kindly and nobly and well, 
 But how we have prized these blessings. 
 
 The future alone can tell. 
 
 If we've treasured the gems of knowledge. 
 They have striven for us to know, 
 
 We'll remember' this term with gladness, 
 And proudly will reap what we sow. 
 
 When future years have been added 
 To our youth now joyous and free, 
 
 And we turn once more to the pages. 
 We have treasured in memory. 
 
 Perhaps we will dreamily ponder 
 
 O'er life's perplexing rule. 
 And smile as we live o'er in fancy. 
 
 This last happy day of school. 
 
 The sun is slowly fading. 
 
 Out of sight in the golden west, 
 
 Leaving a glow of crimson 
 On the hill-top's snowy crest. 
 
 Thus may the bright reflection 
 
 Of our schooldays ever be; 
 A beacon light to guide us, 
 
 To the gates of eternity. 
 
A BUNDI.E OF TWIGS. 267 
 
 AFTER THE RAIN. 
 
 Tins, flowers are shaking- with laughter, 
 
 To be kissed by the sun, 
 And the clover tops are nodding", 
 
 'Neath the breath of the wind every one. 
 
 The g-rass, like a sea of emerald, 
 Is spang-led with pearls of rain, 
 
 And the webs of the busy spiders 
 Must surely make them vain, 
 
 For they look like chains of diamonds, 
 
 Spread out in the sun. 
 The air is sweet with scented breath 
 
 After the rain has come. 
 
 The children, too, are happy. 
 
 They are full of fun as can be, 
 I can hear their shouts of laughter. 
 
 As they're shaking the rain from the tree, 
 
 That is bending above the hammock 
 Near the porch so clean and white; 
 
 O this is a world of beauty. 
 
 All filled with gladness and light. 
 
268 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 AFTERWARD. 
 
 So oft, as I'm working", my darling", 
 
 A vision comes to me. 
 That I must find you, darling-, 
 
 Wherever you may be. 
 And see you ag^ain, my darling-. 
 
 And clasp you to my heart, 
 To keep you forever and ever. 
 
 Never again to part. 
 
 But it must not be, my darling-; 
 
 You can not come to me — 
 Can not row back to earth-world. 
 
 Over that troubled sea. 
 To tell a strang-e, sweet story 
 
 Of that country whence you came. 
 That to us, throug-h all the seasons. 
 
 Must only be known in name. 
 
 We must still bear in silence, 
 
 The loneliness and pain 
 That comes from losing- you, Janie; 
 
 And over and over again 
 We hear your sweet voice calling. 
 
 And start to answer your call. 
 And then, to sadly remember, 
 
 It is only a dream after all. 
 
 You can not know, dear Janie — 
 'T would make you sad to know 
 
 How much we miss you, Janie, 
 As the long hours come and go. 
 
A bundle: of twigs. 269 
 
 But we try to comfort each other — 
 
 Try to be kind and true; 
 Living" each day, dear Janie, 
 
 As you would have us do. 
 
 If you were but here to tell us — 
 
 If your fond lips could say — 
 Could g-reet us as of olden time, 
 
 Before you went away. 
 Before you went on a journey 
 
 That each one must take alone; 
 A journey that leads one forever 
 
 Away from this earthly home. 
 
 The silence awakens sad memories — r 
 
 We miss your dear form still. 
 And it seems so hard to be patient — 
 
 To g'ently bow to His will; 
 Yet, ever and ever, dear one. 
 
 We will strive to be g-ood and true, 
 So that thoug-h you return not to meet us, 
 
 We shall sometime come to you. 
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 
 
 I THOUGHT when I lost your love, dear, 
 That the light had g-one out of the world; 
 
 That the forces of Nature, impassioned, 
 In the chaos of storm were hurled. 
 
270 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 No rainbow dispelled the darkness; 
 
 There was not a g^leam of the sun 
 To light two different pathways, 
 
 For we had traveled but one. 
 
 Deep was my sorrow, and bitter — 
 It shadowed my life like a spell; 
 
 A cruel return for affection — 
 For loving- you, all too well. 
 
 But the heart must lose its burden, 
 And life grow sweet with cheer; 
 
 Must take up a song of gladness, 
 And lose its doubt and fear. 
 
 So the sun of hope has arisen, 
 And the flowers are all abloom; 
 
 And a newer love has awakened, 
 And in my life found room. 
 
 And I find life has different phases — 
 You were only one woman, at best. 
 
 And another is just as kind, dear. 
 And gives me of love the best. 
 
 And the world is bright about me — 
 
 All life is fair again; 
 And to the carols of peace and praises, 
 
 I solemnly say, "Amen." 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 271 
 
 EASTER DAY. 
 
 O Easter day ! O Easter g-ladness ! 
 Our hearts forget their thoughts of sadness, 
 And we will join, with cheerful voice, 
 In praise to Him who says "rejoice." 
 
 O Sabbath calm ! O blessed rest ! 
 We feel that we are truly blest; 
 We bid all earthly cares farewell, 
 And bid peace for a season dwell. 
 
 O Easter morn ! O glorious dawn ! 
 A joy for souls to feast upon; 
 A season of supreme delight, 
 That rids us of the fears of night. 
 
 Welcome, thrice welcome, blessed day I 
 Thy light, 'tis true, shall pass away. 
 But thy memory, to cheer and bless. 
 Returns in all its sacredness. 
 
 "WHEN ROSES BLOOMED." 
 
 She sat in the afternoon sunshine, 
 
 A lady sweet and fair, 
 With scarcely a white thread showing 
 
 In the brown of her shining hair. 
 
 Her brow, so white and unwrinkled. 
 
 Was a pleasant one to see; 
 And her cheeks, just tinged with roses, 
 
 Were as fair as they could be. 
 
272 A BUNDI^E OF TWIGS. 
 
 She sat by the table sewing-, 
 Her fingers nimble yet strong*, 
 
 Made the dainty needle g^listen, 
 
 As her lips hummed a cheery song*. 
 
 A butterfly, g-ay and g-audy. 
 
 Came in at the open door, 
 And restlessly fluttering*, settled 
 
 On the work her fing^ers bore. 
 
 With a shadow on her features. 
 She arose with a g-esture of pain, 
 
 And took the fluttering" creature 
 To the open door ag-ain. 
 
 "You must not stay here in the shadow," 
 
 She said as she let it g-o, 
 "Nor lose one bit of the sunshine 
 
 That was meant for you, you know." 
 
 Then she sat dreaming* sadly, 
 Of a time when she was as g*ay 
 
 As the butterfly wandering* idly 
 Into her home that day. 
 
 "Just as g*ay and light-hearted," 
 She said with a half-drawn sigh, 
 
 "And, yes, I know far happier. 
 Until Jack said goodby." 
 
 "I wonder if he remembers — 
 He said he would not forget;" 
 
 She smiled a little sadly. 
 
 And her lashes with tears were wet. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 273 
 
 "Here is the silver thimble 
 
 He gave me long- ag^o. 
 Ah me, w^ho "would think a woman 
 
 Would treasure a kindness so?" 
 
 "And now the roses are blooming", 
 
 I feel their scented breath; 
 O how well I used to love them — 
 
 I shall love them till my death." 
 
 Then as the tears fell quickly, 
 On the work that she had done, 
 
 She scolded herself, "Am I sorry 
 Because the roses have come?" 
 
 "And what is the use of pining"? 
 
 I know he meant to be true, 
 When he left me here in the cottage, 
 
 And sailed o'er the ocean blue." 
 
 "He said when the roses were blooming", 
 He would claim me for his bride; 
 
 But they've budded and bloomed and faded. 
 Many times since he left my side." 
 
 Then she took up her work in silence, 
 
 She had no time to be sad, 
 When everything bright around her. 
 
 Was trying to make her glad. 
 
 A shadow darkened the doorway, 
 A tall man bronzed and brown. 
 
 On the pretty little woman. 
 
 From his height stood looking down. 
 
274 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 She g"azed at him a moment, 
 He g'ave a pleasant smile too, 
 
 Then she cried, as she started towards him, 
 "Dear Jack, I knew 'twas you." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you, dearest. 
 That I'd surely come to you, when?" 
 
 "Yes I remember. Jack dear. 
 
 When the roses bloomed again." 
 
 SINCE JANIE DIED. 
 
 The days are long* and dreary. 
 And some ways, O, so weary ! 
 
 And I have tried 
 To be as cheerful as ever, 
 By effort and endeavor, 
 
 As I was before she died. 
 
 The wind is wild and raving-. 
 But I heed not his behaving- 
 
 Since Janie died; 
 What if the branches quiver, 
 And the water on the river 
 
 Is a frozen tide ! 
 
 My heart chants out its moaning-. 
 In sunlig-ht or in g-loaming-. 
 
 And, arts defied, 
 I stand alone in sorrow, 
 From a day until its morrow, _ 
 
 Since Janie died. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 275 
 
 I miss Her fond, sweet greeting;, 
 That came at every meeting-, 
 
 And long- to see 
 Ag-ain her look of pleasure, 
 That now I can but treasure 
 
 In memory. 
 
 I miss her g^entle laug^hter; 
 The silence that comes after, 
 
 I deplore. 
 I fain would clasp and hold her, 
 If my arms could enfold her 
 
 As of yore. 
 
 We were happy in the old days, 
 
 With their quaint and chang-eful byways, 
 
 Side by side. 
 But all chang-ed for me forever, 
 Are the joys that can come never — 
 
 Since Janie died. 
 
 YOU WOULDN'T IF YOU LOVED ME. 
 
 You wouldn't if vou loved me — 
 You wouldn't, dear, I say, 
 
 Be cross, and unkind, and selfish, 
 But pleasant to me every day. 
 
 You wouldn't slig^ht and neg-lect me. 
 But act kindly as you g^o; 
 
 If you but loved me and cheered me, 
 Life would be sweeter, I know. 
 
276 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 So I say, if you loved me, darling", 
 As I have loved you, e'er so true, 
 
 No sorrow could cast a shadow 
 O'er this life for me and you. 
 
 PLEADING. 
 
 You tell me to be ^ay and have no care. 
 Yet sorrows come and all my moments share. 
 
 I'm often sad, yet in my heart is room 
 
 For love of you— a sweet and precious boon. 
 
 You need not care If I still love you. Pet, 
 For loving- hearts, at times, can not forget. 
 
 You have no need to ever think of me — 
 Sail as you will, on calm, untroubled sea. 
 
 Go take your ease — lure pleasure at your will; 
 Pause not to think that I am lonely still. 
 
 The years will chang^e, but only sunny days 
 Will come to you, in many pleasant ways. 
 
 The thorns and ruder paths will be for me, 
 And where you pause I never more shall be. 
 
 So grudg^e me not the joy of loving- you, 
 Thoug-h all of earth prove changeful and untrue 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 277 
 
 TO A PET HORSE. 
 
 Goodbye, my dear old playmate, 
 
 I am sad as I can be, 
 To think that you have left me, 
 
 And your face I can not see. 
 
 I watch the moonbeams quiver, 
 And count the twinkling- stars, 
 
 But I know you will never meet me 
 Down by the pasture bars. 
 
 Y9U were so patient, Elec, 
 
 And quiet as could be 
 Until your old 'Ply' mother 
 
 Just kicked you on your knee. 
 
 You stood the pain and torture 
 As long- as any horse could, 
 
 And then you fell rig-ht over — 
 I felt sure that you would. 
 
 Then you just lay there and suffered, 
 Your knee was so full of pain, 
 
 But now you're asleep forever, 
 I shall never see you ag-ain. 
 
 I remember, all throug-h the summer, 
 Down in the pasture g-reen. 
 
 You ran like a horse on the race-track 
 And you g-ot awful poor and lean. 
 
 I used to think you were crazy, 
 You ran so swiftly and long-, 
 
 I don't know why you did it. 
 
 Unless 'twas to make you strong". 
 
278 A BUNDI.E O^ TWIGS. 
 
 And now, my poor old E^lec, 
 You're dead and out of sight, 
 
 And I shall never see you 
 At morning-, noon, or nig-ht. 
 
 So I must weep in silence 
 For the pet that I have lost, 
 
 I must say goodbye, but never 
 Will you know at what a cost. 
 
 WHEN THE DAY IS OVER. 
 
 Afte;r the daytime is ended. 
 
 And the curtains of night are down, 
 
 Don't pause to fret and worry. 
 With a discontented frown. 
 
 What if some tasks are unfinished — 
 You surely have done your best; 
 
 Then try to be patient and thankful. 
 And trust in God for the rest. 
 
 Get behind the curtain of sorrow, 
 
 Where the rainbow of hope is bright; 
 
 Don't be forever despairing. 
 
 And all of life's goodness slight. 
 
 Rest in the peace and contentment 
 Of the better gifts you know; 
 
 For, freely, tender mercy 
 And blessings He'll bestow. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS 279 
 
 So look above and about you; 
 
 There are flowers everywhere, ' 
 If you, with g-entle patience. 
 
 Will g-ive them your watchful care. 
 
 So rest when the day is over — 
 
 You are not comfortless; 
 Be h^appy for those who love you, 
 - And strive their lives to bless. 
 
 FLOY. 
 
 O BRING me not books or jewels ! 
 
 Or costly things so fair; 
 But g-ive me my baby^s picture — 
 
 My baby with g"olden hair. 
 Here in this little corner 
 
 Are the treasures she used to hold, 
 Before she left forever, 
 
 Her mother's loving* fold. 
 
 The cab with its shining* cover. 
 
 In which she used to ride, 
 With loving- friend or parent, 
 
 And dear "^hach" by her side. 
 The doll cab, with dolly in it, 
 
 Is just as it used to be; 
 It reminds me, O, so sadly. 
 
 Of the darling- I cannot see. 
 
280 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 The dishes she used to play with — 
 
 The blocks, the dust pan and broom, 
 And all of my baby's plaything's. 
 
 Are here in this shadowed room. 
 And poor old "^hack," as she called him, 
 
 He loved her, and one bright day 
 She took up the shears that were lying 
 
 Around somewhere in the way, 
 
 And, holding them in her fingers, 
 
 So chubby, and round, and white, 
 She cut the tips of both his ears. 
 
 As he lay in the warm sunlight. 
 He let her pet and love him. 
 
 As she laughed in her childish glee. 
 Cooing, and patting him gently. 
 
 As happy as she could be. 
 
 Sometimes, in the deepening twilight. 
 
 When I'm lonely as I can be, 
 I wish that my little darling 
 
 Would come back once more to me. 
 But the lips that I kissed so fondly. 
 
 Return not my kiss tonight; 
 No more do they say sweetly, 
 
 "Now I lay me," or "good night." 
 
 The home is so dark and silent. 
 
 With no one to play "Boo Peep," 
 The empty crib in the corner 
 
 Tells us she's not asleep. 
 I miss the laughing features, 
 
 Framed in with curls of gold. 
 And the fair sweet face that nestled 
 
 Close to mine in the days of old. 
 
A BUNDIvB OE* TWIGS 281 
 
 Ah yes, I have her treasures, 
 
 But they never look to me 
 As they did when she was with me. 
 
 And her voice so full of g"lee, 
 Made baby plans with the playthings, 
 
 As she sat with them on the floor. 
 And now, as I sit here thinking, 
 
 She is playing with them once more. 
 
 Grandpa, poor old grandpa. 
 
 With hair so snowy white. 
 Are you not sad and lonely 
 
 Without her here tonight ? 
 Oft will the winds of winter. 
 
 In piercing cadence blow 
 Around your neck where her fingers 
 
 Were clasped in the long ago. 
 
 And, too, when you come to the table. 
 
 Although there's no vacant chair, 
 You will miss the "Take me. Grandpa," 
 
 As she used to meet you there; 
 Always ready for grandpa. 
 
 Waiting for him to come, 
 This precious little darling — 
 
 The light of grandpa's home. 
 
 And patient, loving" grandma, 
 
 With her dark hair streaked with gray, 
 How sad she has been, and lonely, 
 
 Since the baby went away. 
 But we have His own sure promise 
 
 That we shall meet our own. 
 When the shadows of earth, and its sorrows. 
 
 In the bliss of Heaven are outgrown. 
 
282 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 LATE ROSES. 
 
 I SEE you in the wayside hedges, 
 
 Friendly companions to the g-olden-rod; 
 
 Your cheerful faces nodding*, bending, 
 Above the ledge of thickly weeded sod. 
 
 Your thorny branches still look green and thrifty. 
 
 Your faces turn white toward the southern breeze; 
 I daily wonder how our heavenly Father 
 * Has thought to give us comforters like these. 
 
 Why do you linger, when the season 
 
 For your sweet blooming has long passed away ? 
 Are you to form a part and substance 
 
 Of Autumn, with its flaming colors gay ? 
 
 roses, how I love to grasp you, 
 
 Though your short lives but tell me to beware 
 Of earth and its few, fleeting pleasures; 
 Of its indulgences — of weary care. 
 
 1 greet you as a fresh, fair picture — 
 
 As old friends, true and trusted, though afar; 
 I feel the sweetness of your dewy fragrance, 
 And half forget what ills of life there are. 
 
 Beautiful roses, freely blooming — fading, 
 Growing on prairie and in fruitful field; 
 
 We are so thankfulfor the generous earth- world 
 That can such beauty to our eye-sight yield. 
 
 Bloom on, till winter comes to chain you 
 
 'Neath mounds of snow, and ice, and leaves and rain; 
 But you will come to us in all your freshness, 
 
 When far and near, the spring time comes again. 
 
A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 283 
 
 1 WOULD JUST AS SOON DIE AS NOT. 
 
 When the clouds have all g-one out of the sky, 
 
 When the flowers have ceased to grow, 
 When the hills and vales are brown and bare, 
 
 Or covered w^ith ice and snow, 
 When the stars have wandered out of their paths, 
 
 And the moon shines through the day. 
 When my pet pig is drowned in a rain barrel, too. 
 
 And my rabbit has run away. 
 When the dogs have killed my pretty kitten, 
 
 And my squirrel has died, and my bird. 
 When I am told to keep still all the time. 
 
 Can scarcely speak a word. 
 When fire and storm destroy my grain. 
 
 Or the store that I keep in town, 
 I think I would just as soon die as not. 
 
 Though I am never cast down. 
 When friends no more are kind and true. 
 
 And do as they use to do, 
 When the sun refuses to shine at all. 
 
 And the sea has lost its blue. 
 When my horse has taken the grippe and died, 
 
 And the chickens and children have flown, 
 What is the use of living I say 
 
 In a drear world all alone. 
 When I am getting old and gray, 
 
 And trials come thick as spatter, 
 I have no time to sit and pine, 
 
 And wonder what's the matter. 
 When the world is all turned upside down, 
 
 And there isn't a quiet spot, 
 When there is no system to run it by, 
 
 I'd just as soon die as not. 
 
284 A BUNDIvB OF TWIGS. 
 
 When the birds have ceased to sing- and play, 
 
 And all folks can agree, 
 The world will be coming- to a pretty pass, 
 
 As any one can see. 
 When there are no more fires to lig^ht, 
 
 And the dishes will wash themselves, 
 And pies and cakes, all in a row, 
 
 Will be found on the pantry shelves. 
 Then we'll not need those things to eat, 
 
 And wander along- in space, 
 And will not know when we come to it. 
 
 What we mean by a friendly face. 
 When everything goes wrong or right, 
 
 As now I am sure, it cannot, 
 When I can no longer wander here, 
 
 I would just as soon die as not. 
 
 RETALIATION. 
 
 And so you thought you had broken my heart. 
 With your taunts and your cruel sneers — 
 
 Had filled my life with a nameless dread, 
 To darken the future years. 
 
 You thought you had darkened my life with pain. 
 
 And you were out of my reach, 
 With your cold neglect and harsher tones, 
 
 And your bitterness of speech. 
 
 But words can fly to the ends of the earth, 
 And thoughts to the end of space. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 285 
 
 And the poisoned arrows you have sent, 
 May come back to their starting place. 
 
 The slights and wrongs you have given me 
 
 May into your own life come, 
 Kre you have tasted of life's best wine, 
 
 And your labor for love is done. 
 
 Did you test the power of woman's love 
 
 To measure the depth of hate ? 
 Or did you think to compromise 
 
 Before it was too late? 
 
 Did you have to torture a loving heart — 
 
 Fill it with misery — 
 That you might see, after truth and love. 
 
 How bitter a woman could be ? 
 
 The truth will come back to your heart some day, 
 When the sweetest pleasures have flown; 
 
 When the love you claim as your own today. 
 By the changes of time is outgrown. 
 
 When the depths of your erring heart shall feel 
 
 The sting of a sweet joy lost. 
 You will have purchased my pardon then — 
 
 Do you think at too great a cost ? 
 
 I think no sorrow, or pain, or woe. 
 
 Is too great for your heart to bear. 
 For you've scorned a gentle and loving heart; 
 
 So I say to you now, "Beware ! " 
 
286 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 SEEN FROM THE OTHER SIDE. 
 
 We smile in bitter envy as we see 
 
 Some favored ones g^o g"ladly on their way, 
 
 And sig"h to think our lives so burdened are, 
 While theirs are sunny hours with joy alway. 
 
 How we would cast away our selfish pride, 
 Could we but see them from the other side. 
 
 We can not guess what aching hearts they hide, 
 What sorrows deep they cover with a smile. 
 
 And find sweet comfort only in the thought. 
 That they will suffer just a little while. 
 
 We can not tell what fortune will betide, 
 For we judge blindly from the other side. 
 
 Let us be careful in our chiding then, 
 
 Repress the cold harsh words and look and tone, 
 That may cause deeper pain than thrust of sword. 
 
 Or deeper anguish, than our hearts have known. 
 
 Cast all our scorn and bitterness aside. 
 Nor judge until we see the other side. 
 
 TO MY LOVE. 
 
 Dear one, I know not if your heart be mine. 
 Or if some other heart in hope is thine. 
 
 But this I know I long to see your face, 
 
 And hear your merry laughter's ringing chime. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 287 
 
 'Tis an old custom, yet I love it well, 
 Of sending- tokens on this pleasant day. 
 
 To those we love and "will remember well. 
 As changeful years pass silently away. 
 
 We'll treasure well this day of mirth and g"lee, 
 For years, its echo sweet shall roll along", 
 
 L/ike some fair spirit that has lost its way. 
 And tells its love in happy bursts of song. 
 
 God bless you then, through all the years to come, 
 And bring you happy days and peace and love. 
 
 And when from earth your footsteps journey on. 
 Sing endless praises unto Him above. 
 
 IS IT NOTHING TO YOU. 
 
 Is it nothing to you, that I measure 
 The depth of your love by my own ? 
 
 That I treasure the light as brighter, 
 That on both of our pathways shone ? 
 
 Is it nothing to you that I wander. 
 
 In stranger paths untried. 
 And I find such rugged places — 
 
 The sweetest of joys denied ? 
 
 Is it nothing to you that I miss you. 
 With your kindliness of grace ? 
 
 That I long, O so often, 'mid strangers, 
 To catch but a glimpse of your face ? 
 
288 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 After all, is it nothing to you, dear. 
 
 To have me for your friend ? 
 Would you rather be working and striving, 
 
 Alone — to the bitter end? 
 
 If so, let the future come quickly — 
 
 The glorious sights unclose; 
 The hills and mountains and valleys, 
 
 Abloom with the lily and rose. 
 
 It is nothing to you that I crowned you, 
 The noblest of earth — my King. 
 
 You scorned my love, and cast it 
 Aside, as a worthless thing. 
 
 THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 
 
 The old year is dying tonight love, 
 
 Does he sigh for the past that has gone ? 
 
 As we sigh for some dearly loved treasure 
 We must leave and again journey on ? 
 
 On to the future awaiting. 
 
 Whatever its days may bring, 
 Rich joys all fresh and enduring, 
 
 Or flowers pale — withering. 
 
 Come, watch as the bells tell the message. 
 
 Ring out the old year tonight. 
 Together we'll welcome the morrow 
 
 With its radiant new-born light. 
 
A BUNDI.E O:^ TWIGS. 289 
 
 Together sing- praise for the blessing's, 
 Of health and kind friends given, 
 
 Let no earthly bliss mar the promise 
 Of sweet rest at last in heaven. 
 
 IF. 
 
 If I am cruel — unkind, 
 
 I think that you want me to be, 
 For I was loving- and kind, 
 
 When you were good to me. 
 
 If I can smile and be calm, 
 
 When your heart is mad with woe, 
 "Twill be nothing strange to you, 
 
 For you like me better so. 
 
 If I am gayer at times. 
 
 Than you would think I could be, 
 I have taken the cue from you — 
 
 You are not too blind to see. 
 
 If all the world goes wrong. 
 
 And Reason to Pride gives way, ■ 
 
 Tis because I have learned so well. 
 The lesson you taught me one day. 
 
 Ah! you remember it, too, 
 
 I am sure by the look in your eyes. 
 Why should you shrink and start ? 
 
 You have uttered many goodbyes 
 
290 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 With a tender and quivering- voice, 
 As if you cared, you know. 
 
 And I w^ould have thoug-ht you did. 
 In those fair days long- ag^o. 
 
 But you taug'ht me better than that. 
 So I should not moan or sig^h 
 
 If the lig-ht and the hope of my life, 
 Went out with a last "Goodbye." 
 
 For I would laug^h and be g"ay, 
 
 And the world would never know, 
 
 Yet — well, if I'm cruel at times, 
 'Tis because you have made me so. 
 
 DRIFTING 
 
 The light g^rows dim and dimmer 
 From the shore and sunlit sea, 
 
 And my heart hears whispering- voices 
 As I m drifting- out to sea. 
 
 Drifting- from home and loved ones, 
 
 Whose faces are dear to me; 
 Leaving-, perhaps forever, 
 
 The home that used to be, 
 
 Throug-h shadows and shifting- sunbeams, 
 
 A shelter of sweet content. 
 And where the years of my childhood 
 
 In happiness were spent. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 291 
 
 My heart must abide in the stillness 
 Of the solemn dark, that leaves 
 
 A sense of unrest and long-ing", 
 
 As I wait, and wonder, and g*rieve. 
 
 Farther and farther-seaward, 
 My boat drifts with the tide; 
 
 I care not whither it takes me. 
 For you are not by my side. 
 
 Alone on the wild, vv^ide ocean, 
 (Thoug-h many friends are near,) 
 
 For the heart that holds my life-love 
 Is never with me here. 
 
 The storm may meet and drive me, 
 A shattered wreck at last. 
 
 Upon some desert sea-shore, 
 When hope and joy are passed. 
 
 But it matters not. I am waiting- 
 For the last act, that shall be 
 
 An end to this weary existence — 
 This drifting- out to sea. 
 
 The chime of distant church bells 
 
 Awake me with a start, 
 From the swiftly chang-ing- fancies 
 
 That are filling- my wayward heart. 
 
 The joy-bells of the Sabbath 
 Are ring-ing- for you and me. 
 
 Do you hear their lingering echoe: 
 Are you happy as can be? 
 
 ;s? 
 
292 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I see the faint light g-leaming- 
 
 Beside the quiet lea, 
 But it is not my bark of Hope, love. 
 
 That is drifting* out to sea. 
 
 The bells have ceased their ringing-; 
 
 The tide flows out ag-ain. 
 As the lives are chang-ing" ever. 
 
 Of women and of men. 
 
 But I am truly happy, 
 
 In your love so fond and true; 
 I think you will trust me ever. 
 
 As I am trusting" you. 
 
 Nothing- shall dim the g-ladness 
 Of the lig-ht that shines today. 
 
 In the eyes once dim with weeping", 
 In sorrow's twilig-ht gray. 
 
 For the true lig-ht your love has awakened, 
 
 The old g"lad peace to be. 
 Thank God, my boat forever 
 
 Is anchored by the sea. 
 
 YEARS AFTER. 
 
 They come with a cadence of pity- 
 These memories I hold of you; 
 
 It was hard at first to believe it — 
 That you were indeed untrue. 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 293 
 
 That your life was a common story 
 Of the erring" ways of men; 
 
 But never, on life's horizon, 
 Will the picture be fair again. 
 
 'Tis an oft repeated story, 
 
 The busy world, with fate's dart, 
 Has wounded, but not beyond healing, 
 
 A faithful woman's heart. 
 
 OUR BOYS. 
 
 O HOW we love these boys of ours, 
 
 How we would shield them day by day 
 
 From every harm that can destroy, 
 
 From perilous paths where they may stray. 
 
 We e'er would keep them kind and true. 
 Would have them noble, strong in might, 
 
 Shunning evil in every form. 
 
 Be on the side of truth and right. 
 
 Our hands reach out in kindly thought 
 To h(?ld them from the tempter's breath; 
 
 To save them from the sinful toil, 
 That leads to ruin, crime and death. 
 
 We hold, as dearer than all wealth, 
 These boys, fast growing into men. 
 
 Who, all too soon leave home's safe care. 
 Some never to know its peace again. 
 
294 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 And O we claim their friendship, too, 
 There's streng-th and courage in a tone. 
 
 And we would aid all struggling- here— 
 Iveave none to wage the war alone. 
 
 O royal lives ! O hearts so true, 
 
 If guided in the way of right, 
 Yes, hearts of oak, and arms whose strength 
 
 Are sure to conquer in the fight. 
 
 And so we grasp them by the hand. 
 Aid them as brothers da}^ by day. 
 
 Knowing the links that form love's chain. 
 Through Time's storms cannot rust away. 
 
 TOMMY'S OPINION. 
 
 "I THINK you're in love," said Tommy, 
 "For 5^ou act so dreadful queer; 
 
 You have not had a romp with us 
 For almost half a year." 
 
 "You never go running and playing 
 
 With us, as you used to do. 
 And I think it so mean of you, Tac3% 
 
 And horrid, now that's what I do." 
 
 "And you used to read in the evening. 
 
 Or tell us the funniest jokes; 
 But I guess now you're getting too stylish 
 
 To sit with us common folks." 
 
A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 295 
 
 "For you draw down the blinds in the parlor, 
 And close the door this side of Phil, 
 
 And a mouse half dead for his supper, 
 I am sure could not be so still." 
 
 "Yes, I think it's too bad of you, Tacy, 
 And when I was sick, as you knew. 
 
 You would not come home, once, to see me, 
 Unless Philip came with you too." 
 
 "So I s'pose you're his girl now forever. 
 For I know you'll not come home to stay, 
 
 Unless you leave Phil in the city, 
 And come here alone, all the way." 
 
 "I'm sorry you went there last summer 
 
 To work, if you do g-et more pay, 
 For we never have any g-ood play-time 
 
 Since you went to the city to stay." 
 
 "And I wish (if you want to get married) 
 That you'd just put this fooling- aside, 
 
 And quit spooning- and mooning. 
 And be Philip's dear little bride." 
 
 "But I think it is horrid of Phillip, 
 
 To coax you to go away. 
 That is, for Mary and Richard, 
 
 And poor little me, as I say." 
 
 "But we'll try to live on without you. 
 For I s'pose you'd be happier there, 
 
 But / shan't come to the wedding. 
 Or let you know that I care." 
 
296 A BUNDIvE OP TWIGS. 
 
 "For we thought a great deal of you, Tacy, 
 But you left us of your own free will, 
 
 Goodbye, if we've got to say it. 
 And give you away to Phil." 
 
 LOVE ME FOR WHAT 1 AM. 
 
 I KNOW I am full of thoughts, dear. 
 Am wrong as the days go by, 
 
 But there's always changeable weather. 
 There are sometimes clouds in the sky. 
 
 So be patient and loving with me, 
 
 , Bear with me while I stay, 
 'Twill be a pleasant memory 
 
 Of you when I go away. 
 
 Don't remember the frowns I give you, 
 
 The cross words that I say. 
 But l^t their memory perish 
 
 Like the mist on a summer's day. 
 
 And remember, too, how I love you, 
 
 I am doing the best I can. 
 So don't try to make me perfect. 
 
 But love me for what I am. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 297 
 
 SWEET LILACS. 
 
 Hanging in heavy clusters, 
 
 With bordering-s of green, 
 You sway in the summer sunshine, 
 
 With the wavering lights between. 
 
 beautiful, fragrant blossoms, 
 Purple, and pink, and blue. 
 
 And white— so pure and lovely — 
 How Nature cherishes you ! 
 
 Let me grasp you and keep you, 
 With your drops of healthful rain; 
 
 You bring me blessed comfort. 
 Over and over again. 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful lilacs ! 
 
 You remind me of all good things, 
 Though the years are passing swiftly. 
 
 As Hope's joyful bell still rings. 
 
 1 welcome you O, so gladl}^ ! 
 I clasp you as in a dream; 
 
 No more does my boat drift idly 
 Adown the sullen stream. 
 
 TO GUY. 
 
 Now, Guy, I'm not going to scold you. 
 For the clouds are too dark in the sky. 
 
 The time is too short for chiding 
 As the days go hurrying by. 
 
298 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 But you have the world before you, 
 You are young" and proud and strong, 
 
 So why should life prove a failure. 
 Or your cherished plans be wrong". 
 
 There is a method of saving", 
 That you oug"ht to heed today, 
 
 'Tis that of the precious moments, 
 Too costly to trifle away. 
 
 Fill the hours with your best efforts 
 Of study and reading and truth. 
 
 And gather friends about you. 
 
 Who are a blessing" to your youth. 
 
 Be earnest and sober and thoug"htful. 
 Stern duties are calling" you. 
 
 They may seem today like trifles. 
 But obey them and you will be true. 
 
 There is hope, like a beacon g"leaming" 
 Above the heig"hts of success. 
 
 So strive in the might of your manhood 
 For life's true blessedness. 
 
 COMING AND GOING. 
 
 Two g"uests came into our home one day, 
 
 And g"lad were we too greet. 
 Our happy converse made the hours 
 
 Go by with flying" feet. 
 
A BUNDlvE 01" TWIGS. 299 
 
 The evening" waned, and quiet rest 
 
 Chained all in slumbers sweet, 
 Unconscious of the care and strife 
 
 That the daytime would repeat. 
 
 Out of the silence of early dawn. 
 
 Our two guests rose and went, 
 Without a token, or word, or kiss. 
 
 As a happy supplement. 
 
 Thus, year after year, the shadows fall; 
 
 They come and they go at will. 
 And some, we love so tenderly, 
 
 Leave us in silence still. 
 
 They pass from our homes like a sunlit ray; 
 
 From our lives like a shadow of mist; 
 Out from the hearts that throb and ache — 
 
 Away from the lips they have kissed. 
 
 Coming and coming and going. 
 
 Over and over the tide; 
 But there's never a boat that is anchored. 
 
 Till it reaches the other side. 
 
 CHANGED. 
 
 The years have come and gone, Pauline, 
 With the joys that could not last; 
 
 And scenes that we once loved, Pauline, 
 Are buried in the past. 
 
300 A BUNDIvi: OF TWIGS. 
 
 I've felt the sting- of scorn, neg^lect — 
 
 Have hated friend and foe; 
 But O, to feel life's keen reg-ret, 
 
 Was by far the deepest woe. 
 
 But now I know that you are chang-ed; 
 
 We e'er shall dwell apart, 
 For you have found a newer love 
 
 To cherish in your heart. 
 
 Chang"ed are we both, as time g-oes on; 
 
 All thing-s are chang-ing*, too, 
 And who shall chide us, after all, 
 
 If either was untrue. 
 
 You are reading- sweeter chapters now, 
 
 In the Fairy Book of life. 
 Than you'd have found in all the years, 
 
 Had you remained my wife. 
 
 I think that I am happier, too — 
 Time works a wondrous chang-e; 
 
 And we must live as others live — 
 On the- joys that are in rang-e. 
 
 And so, as seasons come and g-o, 
 
 We will not sig-h or weep. 
 But live, and love the present joys. 
 
 And let the old dreams sleep. 
 
A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 301 
 
 DON'T DO IT. 
 
 If you think of a harsh word, my children, 
 
 Or an unkind act you may do. 
 Keep your tongue still, and keep from acting-. 
 
 Be earnest and kind and true. 
 
 Don't let the darkness of discord 
 Come between you and the lig^ht. 
 
 Do the best that you can every hour. 
 Try your best to always do right. 
 
 But if you can carry a dewdrop 
 
 Of comfort to one who is sad, 
 Can call a smile to pale features. 
 
 Can make some heavy heart g'lad, 
 
 Then do it. And gather rare jewels 
 Of happiness round your own way. 
 
 But if you have madness or sadness. 
 Don't give it to others, I pray. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 And is this summer, rife with gladsome mirth ? 
 
 Rich foliage, all unmarred by autumn's hand. 
 And merry birds that warble day by day, 
 
 And fields of ripening grain, o'er all the land ? 
 
 All earth seems smiling at the free, full store 
 Of nature's granary of wood and field. 
 
 Rejoicing that her children — toiling now. 
 
 Shall have the best her generous form can yield. 
 
302 A BUNDIvE OI" O^WIGS. 
 
 Smile on, O summer ! soon your royal brow 
 Will crowned be with autumn's stinging- frost; 
 
 And all the cheerful green that greets us now, 
 In varied tints of autumn will be lost. 
 
 We love you well, dear summer, fresh and pure, 
 And sigh to think each year we have to part; 
 
 But the rich verdure and the birds' sweet songs 
 L/eave summer still unfading in the heart. 
 
 LOVE ME AND TELL ME SO SOMETIMES. 
 
 Ah, dear kind friend of mine, look up 
 
 And tell me if you truly see 
 The future years that time will bring 
 
 Unveiled from all their mystery. 
 Are we to be as true and fond 
 In days to come, in the fair beyond ? 
 
 Will you e'er tire of my loving deeds. 
 And fond caresses that shall cling 
 
 Around your memory every day. 
 
 The fruit of love's sweet fostering ? 
 
 Or will you long for sunnier climes. 
 
 And forget to love me, dear, sometimes ? 
 
 The time is short that we have to live. 
 
 And life is a tale of sad unrest. 
 If there is no kindness to brighten it. 
 
 No answering to love's fond behest. 
 The years go by with their rythm and rhyme. 
 If you love me tell me so sometimes. 
 
A BUNDIvE OE* TWIGS. 303 
 
 Don't let the days g^o by, dear one, 
 And, buried in the grave of years, 
 
 Ivose all their blessedness and peace. 
 Beneath a symphony of tears. 
 
 A life robbed of cheering- light repines, 
 
 So love me and tell me so sometimes. 
 
 You can but say in simple words 
 "I love you, dear," and I am g-lad. 
 
 If I had only one voiced proof. 
 Of your fond love I'd not be sad, 
 
 I'd never sigh for other shrines. 
 
 If you'd love me and tell so sometimes. 
 
 WHEN I GROW OLD. 
 
 When I grow old, I do not want to live, 
 
 To hear the taunts and sneers the careless bring. 
 
 And feel the bitter anguish from their slights. 
 That in my heart would plant a lasting sting. 
 
 When I grow old, I do not want to stay 
 
 Where my heart hungers for affection fond; 
 
 I do not -want to speak of love and trust, 
 When ne'er a kindred feeling will respond. 
 
 When I grow old, I cannot bear neglect — 
 To be forgotten is my greatest dread; 
 
 I think 'twere sweeter when my work is done. 
 If I could rest in silence with the dead. 
 
304 A BUNDIvE OF TWIGS. 
 
 O, the bitter, bitter pain of g-rowing* old, 
 
 Unloved, uncared for, tliroug"li the passing- years; 
 
 My leg-acy the memory of a dream, 
 Set to the requiem of repentant tears. 
 
 My heart misg^ives me as the days g^o by, 
 
 Thoug-h now I know my friends are g^ood and kind. 
 
 Their tender ministry makes earth a dream 
 Of joy and beauty, peace and love, combined. 
 
 Yes, this I know, and then comes a dark fear 
 Of chang-e and coldness, unkind looks and ways. 
 
 That make a misery of life. 
 
 And shadow all the once brig-ht, sunny days. 
 
 And so when I grow old, and life's calm nig-ht 
 
 Is settling- slowly into twilig-ht g"ray, 
 I trust the kind Ivord will not let me live 
 
 To know or feel the truth of what I say. 
 
 PRETTY PET. 
 
 Now Pretty Pet and Polly Pan 
 L/ived in an old, tin oyster can. 
 They were too small to scold and fret — 
 Blithe Polly Pan and Pretty Pet. 
 
 Our Jamie caug-ht them in the sloug-h; 
 Said he, "Aha, I'm fond of you, 
 And when you have much larg-er grown, 
 I'll have two fishes all my own." 
 
A BUNDLE O^ TWIGS 305 
 
 And so they swam about in g"lee, 
 As g-ay and happy as could be; 
 Darting quickly in the sun, 
 Flirting- water — O, such fun ! 
 
 They grew so fast that Jamie found 
 They could not freely turn around, 
 Unless they had a larg-er dish; 
 And so, what better could they wish, 
 
 Than a painted barrel, sawed in two ? 
 "There," said Jamie, "that will do." 
 But since misfortune comes to all. 
 On these fish, too, it chanced to fall. 
 
 One sunny day as James came out 
 To watch his treasures dart about, 
 He saw a sight that was not all sport, 
 In this red barrel sawed so short. 
 
 For Polly Pan, all in a fret, 
 
 Was swallowed whole by Pretty Pet. 
 
 Soon the barrel was empty as well as the can. 
 
 For Pretty Pet died— after Polly Pan. 
 
 THE TIDE. 
 
 The tide creeps out neath the hanging rocks, 
 'Neath the glow of the sunkissed sea; 
 
 While the whispering winds come near and tell 
 Their story to you and me. 
 
306 A BUNDLE OF TWIGS. 
 
 I love the maddening- splashing- waves, 
 
 The rolling^ tumbling- sea, 
 I reck me not of the future hours 
 
 The joys or the cares to be. 
 
 For the golden g-low of the fading- sun, 
 Bring-s a beautiful vision of rest. 
 
 Where no storms e'er come at day or nig-ht. 
 To sorrow or peace molest. 
 
 NOTHING LIKE WORK. 
 
 There is nothing- like work for an aching- heart, 
 There is nothing- like work for the brain. 
 
 There is nothing- like g-ood, honest, sensible work 
 For weariness, sadness or pain. 
 
 If you feel life is dreary and thorny and roug-h. 
 Don't g-rumble and dawdle and shirk. 
 
 But get down to business, give care to the winds. 
 And fill the bright minutes with work. 
 
 There is nothing like work to keep off the blues, 
 Or to bring joy and peace 'stead of sorrow, 
 
 So encourage the spirit of laboring thrift 
 And let work be the trouble you borrow. 
 
 There is nothing like work the whole world around, 
 
 For American, Indian or Turk, 
 So, if you'd be happy and live at your ease. 
 
 Just season your life with hard work. 
 
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