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 I DEC 26 1884 
 
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WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 A. E. P. 
 
SPRING IS COMING. 
 
 r^ij THE spring is coming, coming! 
 Tripping over the hills, 
 Unlocking the hearts of the blossoms. 
 Tuning the prattling rills ; 
 
 Clothing the earth with velvet, 
 Draping the bare old trees, 
 
 Filling with birds' sweet carols 
 Each odor-laden breeze. 
 
 She brings the wooing sunshine. 
 And showers of golden rain, 
 
 That over field and wayside 
 Will wake the flowers again. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 VIOLET. 
 
 m 
 
 HE came when bright gems 
 Of silver were strung 
 Out on the willows ; 
 
 When new grass among 
 Lay little white forms 
 
 Of the late-fallen snow, 
 That up the noon sunbeams 
 
 On misty wings go. 
 
 A bluebird had told us, 
 
 With song full of cheer. 
 That wonders and beauties 
 
 Were soon to appear : 
 The trees crowned with leaves, 
 
 The fields starred with flowers, 
 And singing and gladness 
 
 Would fill sunny hours. 
 
 So, when this welcome. 
 
 Dear flower to earth came, 
 We thought of the sweetest 
 
 Of spring flowers for name. 
 And never was one 
 
 The springs have brought yet 
 More precious and lovely 
 
 Than dear Violet. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 LITTLE HANDS. 
 
 ^ITTLE leaves flutterinj?, 
 Their shadows at play, 
 Lily bells swaying, 
 
 More graceful than they 
 Are two beautiful 
 
 Hands seldom still. 
 That to the finger-tips 
 
 Joyously thrill ; 
 Folding, unfolding. 
 
 Pure as a flower, 
 Dear in their helplessness, 
 
 jSTeeding love's dower. 
 
 Moulded so daintily. 
 
 Tinted so fair, 
 Can it be they will have 
 
 Burdens to bear? 
 Tempted by wrong, will they 
 
 Battle for right. 
 Doing whatever 
 
 They may with their might? 
 Strong in endeavor. 
 
 Helpful and kind. 
 Will they bear heavenward 
 
 Sheaves they shall bind? 
 
 Tendril-like, twining 
 
 Our hearts through and through. 
 May naught of earth ever 
 
 Their clinging undo. 
 
WAYSIDE WII.DIXGS. 
 
 BABY'S FEET. 
 
 [To a little one, upon as;^unnng- her first short dress.] 
 
 j^ S pretty and pink as blossoms in May, 
 -^"'^ Under white coverings, so long hid away, 
 Are two dimpled feet, that know freedom today. 
 
 "Goodby," they say, "to all stockings and shoes," 
 A-dancing like sunbeams over night's dews. 
 Twinkling like humming birds' wings o'er a rose. 
 
 Now up and now down, so joyous and light, 
 Under and over, now hidden from sight, 
 Could any one guess the left from the right? 
 
 Never seemed birdie more glad to be free; 
 
 Or butterfly gayer o'er gardens to flee. 
 
 Than dear, wee Sunny-face, on mamma's knee. 
 
 We lovingly watch thy innocent play; 
 
 Thy little hands lifted, and face, seem to say, 
 
 "If only I'd wings, I'd up and away." 
 
 So from our joy, that thy happiness brings. 
 One grateful heart-prayer to heaven upsprings. 
 That God hath not yet, darling, given thee wings. 
 
 And, O, may He guide these dear little feet. 
 On, on, till life's wandering is all complete, 
 On, on, to a Freedom than this more sweet. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 BABY'S BATH. 
 
 k PATTER and dash, 
 O what good fun ! 
 Patter and splash, 
 Dear, happy one ! 
 
 From crown to toes 
 Alive with glee, 
 
 Till all the house 
 Rings merrily. 
 
 Dew-drops cover 
 The flower so lair, 
 
 Gems fall over 
 His silken hair. 
 
 Lily lake-hid, 
 
 Or sun in mist, 
 Come as you're bid, 
 
 Be dressed and kissed, 
 Cuddle and cling, 
 
 Yes, so, and so. 
 Mamma will sing. 
 
 To dream-land go. 
 
 In dream-land learn 
 What angels see. 
 
 Then homeward turn 
 With smiles for me. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 BABY'S LESSON. 
 
 JnE step, another, yet one more — 
 
 Come, little trembler, on; 
 Strong, loving arms wait just before, 
 
 Their fold will soon be won. 
 
 Come, come again, the fall ne'er mind, 
 
 It is not far to go; 
 And sweet rewarding thou shalt find 
 
 From one who loves thee so. 
 
 Art weary now? Oh, rest thee then; 
 
 Love, Patience close beside. 
 Will watch and wait, and yet again 
 
 Be to thee guard and guide. 
 
 Weak steps we take, perhaps we fall; 
 
 Yet know, though right or wrong, 
 God loves us, pities, knows it all, 
 
 And waiteth, oh, so long! • 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THREE YEARS OLD. 
 
 1^ APPY boy Bertie is giad for the clay, 
 
 ' ^ Glad for its sunshine, glad for its play. 
 Finds his best pleasures in funniest things, 
 Sees wonderful wealth in a bundle of strings. 
 
 Philosopher-like, in sticks and in stones 
 Knows beauty and value, and many he owns. 
 He covers the floor with his remnants of toys, 
 And thinks there's no music like plenty of noise. 
 
 With a stick in his hand and a broom for a horse. 
 The range of the house is the grandest race-course. 
 He cares for a shovel far more than for books, 
 And hoeing and raking a farmer he looks. 
 
 But when with the mallets he's pounding, we see 
 The noisiest carpenter living, he'll be. 
 And what does he think of his alphabet blocks? 
 They're only for chimneys, to fall with hard knocks. 
 
 Well, what does he think when is ended the day? 
 He drops asleep quickly, and don't stop to say. 
 He lives just the life of a dear, happy boy; 
 And always, as now, we hope he'll bring joy. 
 
10 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 ROBIN AND CANARY. 
 
 (IX THE SPRING.) 
 
 ®NE morning, all sweet with the breath of the 
 May, 
 A Robin to Canary was chatting quite gay, 
 Canary in-doors and Robin at play. 
 
 Sang Robin, "Why don't you come out where we are? 
 
 I'm sure you would think it was jollier far 
 
 Than sitting caged in. Can' t you break down a bar? 
 
 "We have such nice frolics out here in the trees, 
 
 Flying and skipping wherever we please. 
 
 And soon there'll be better times even than these, 
 
 "When building our nests in those tall trees nigh, 
 And little ones come with the flowers, by and by; 
 Such fun 'tis to teach them to sing and to fly. 
 
 "Why can't you come out ? You'd never again 
 
 Be foolish and go into that little pen !' ' 
 
 Poor birdie! he's scarcely a tune sung since then, 
 
 But mopes in his cage and chirps very low; 
 I can't say if moulting' s the reason, or no, 
 And almost it seems we must let the bird go. 
 
 Yet dangers would face him on every hand ; 
 So, though the May-time is decking the land. 
 We'll keep him, though why birdie can't understand. 
 
AVAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 11 
 
 ROBIN AND CANARY. 
 
 (SEQUEL.) 
 
 ssn OW Canary to-day is singing away ! 
 
 ^ If only poor robin could hear ! 
 But where he is gone is something unknown, 
 For birdies, like stars, disappear. 
 
 So hopeful was he, 'twas grievous to see 
 
 How suffering came, and harm. 
 He took a dear mate, that early and late 
 
 Four little blue eggs kept warm. 
 
 One morn there was seen, down through the 
 spruce-green. 
 Four little birds calling for food ; 
 Back and forth from the nest — well, none 
 could have guessed 
 How Robin would toil for his brood. 
 
 United in care, no happier pair 
 In garden or wood could be found, 
 
 Till one morning came and showed — oh, such 
 shame ! 
 But one poor dead bird on the ground. 
 
12 AVAY.SIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE BEE AND MAIDEN. 
 
 HE gold of the willow's tassels 
 
 Peeped from its silvery f ur 
 
 Long, long, ere a summer's blossom 
 
 Had deemed it wise to stir, 
 And a group of bees came gleaning 
 
 For sweets, with Luzz and whir. 
 
 Came a little maiden skipping 
 With heart like bird of spring, 
 
 That from all the joy within it 
 Could only sing, and sing. 
 
 That from all the love within it 
 Found joy in everything. 
 
 She paused in her happy pastime. 
 
 Light hovering like a bee, 
 With wistful eyes, and jpyful cries. 
 
 Just by the willow tree ; 
 For, oh! Spring's early oft'erings there 
 
 AVere treasures good to see. 
 
 Came the bee and maiden gleaning, 
 
 One sweets, and beauty one. 
 And wealth for each was gathered tliere 
 
 For future store begun; 
 But the maiden's prize, soul food, soul full, 
 
 Was far the sweeter one. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDIN<iS. 13 
 
 KITTY AND SPRING-TIME. 
 
 'M'HE kitty was sitting at Daisy's feet, 
 ^ Washing her paws, 
 
 And cleaning her claws ; 
 She'd just had a dinner of milk and meat. 
 
 Daisy was thinking what spring-time had done : 
 
 Filled all the hours 
 
 With song and with flowers. 
 Till everything seemed glad under the sun. 
 
 Daisy was grave, as if thanks she would say 
 
 To her Father in heaven 
 
 For all He had given 
 That made all the world so sweet for her play. 
 
 Only a moment, though, — then with a fling 
 
 She tossed back her curls, 
 
 Gave two or three whirls. 
 And then asked kit what she thought of the spring. 
 
 Kitty had settled herself for a doze, 
 
 But stretched herself out. 
 
 And rolling about. 
 Shocked Daisy by saying, — what do you suppose? 
 
 "Miew! spring? O, yes! I'm liking it much, 
 
 With birdies to watch, 
 
 And birdies to catch, 
 I'm just a bit weary of mice and all such!" 
 
14 AVAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 AT PLAY. 
 
 j'HERE'S a rogue at play in my sunlit room. 
 
 And scarcely lie rests from fun ; 
 Floor, window, shelf, or closet's gloom 
 All are to him as one. 
 
 He opens the books and peeps within, 
 
 The papers turns inside out. 
 Snatches my thread, and thinks no sin 
 
 To throw my work about. 
 
 He clutches the curtains and whisks them down, 
 
 Then pulls at the picture cords. 
 Tosses my hair in a way his own. 
 
 Nor heeds my coaxing words. 
 
 I wonder if one so glad and young 
 
 Will ever be prim and old? 
 He answers not, for he has no tongue — 
 
 Yet tells sweet tales as are told. 
 
 He climbs the walls, yet has no feet; 
 
 No wings, but flies the same ; 
 No hands, no head, but breath so sweet — 
 
 For West Wind is his name. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 15 
 
 THE LITTLE GREEN LEAF. 
 
 jH WEE, folded leaf, just peeped from the ground, 
 
 Tremblingly lifted its head to look round, 
 "O, where am I now; what am I to do?" 
 Little leaf wondered, the world looked so new. 
 
 A bush overhead a dewdrop shook down, 
 
 That sparkled and flashed, the happy leaf's crown; 
 
 Then came a sunbeam, all golden and warm; 
 
 To catch it, the leaf unfolded each arm; 
 
 A passing soft breeze a something sweet said ; 
 
 The leaf, as to listen, raised smartly its head. 
 
 Unfolded, upraised— the little leaf so 
 
 Had done all it could— to be, and to grow. 
 
 To grow, but for what? sun, breeze would not tell. 
 
 But autumn may show it did its work well. 
 
16 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 PUSSY WILLOW. 
 
 P)uSSY Willow! Pussy Willow! 
 What are you about? 
 Here 's the ground all white with snow, 
 
 Yet you 've ventured out; 
 Not a bright companion flower, 
 
 Not a bird to sing, 
 While the March winds show their power 
 
 Battling with the spring. 
 Pussy Willow ! Pussy Willow ! 
 
 With your silver hair 
 In the sunlight all aglow. 
 
 Are you lonely there? 
 
 "Lonely! why, 't is glorious living 
 
 Out here where the sun 
 Warms my sister buds to giving 
 
 Greetings, one by one. 
 Lonely! when the air 's all trembling 
 
 With the rustle near 
 Of such troops of flowers assembling, 
 
 That you may not hear. 
 Lonely! when a sad heart 's lighter 
 
 My gray dress to spy, 
 I 'd ne'er ask one hour brighter, 
 
 Gladder; nO; not I." 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 17 
 
 BESSIE'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 r^ j BIRDIE ! how lovely your tree home must be 
 ^^ When warmly the sunbeams there fall; 
 I often have thought that a home in a tree 
 To me would be better than all. 
 
 Some mornings I've seen it with gems glit'ring 
 bright, 
 
 More gay than the home of a king; 
 If singing is telling how great your delight, 
 
 I'm sure I don't wonder you sing. 
 
 You have curtains of green all speckled with gold, 
 With dots of sky-blue woven through. 
 
 And leafy-lined stairways in numbers untold. 
 So pretty and fitting for you. 
 
 And draperied columns to loftiest hall, 
 With prettiest wreathings entwined; 
 
 What cool, shady nooks, so inviting to all. 
 Like arbors that sway in the wind ! 
 
 The light, happy breezes free wandering there 
 
 Tell tales of the beautiful flowers; 
 And pictures the fairest must be everywhere 
 
 You gaze from the uppermost towers. 
 
 Yes, birdie! when through it the soft sunbeams 
 stray. 
 How lovely your tree home must be ! 
 But when the storms come and the night time so 
 gray, 
 I guess my home's better for me. 
 
18 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE TWO ROSES. 
 
 .AID Eecl Rose to White Rose, 
 * "Pray, how do you do? 
 I've watched you awaking. 
 Just here above you. 
 
 "How can you be happy. 
 So low at my feet. 
 Trying to grow there 
 So humble and sweet ? 
 
 I'd not be so lowly, 
 
 I'd see, and be seen; 
 Why don't you look up here, 
 
 These windows between ?" 
 
 Before little White Rose 
 
 Had lifted her face, 
 A dear little maiden, 
 
 All sunshine and grace. 
 
 Had plucked her and kissed her, 
 
 Then bore her away, 
 The happiest flower 
 
 Of all that bright day. 
 
 One rose in her meekness 
 Found loving and care ; 
 
 One rose in her pride 
 Left lonely, though fair. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 19 
 
 TO NELLIE. 
 
 T^ O I love to be called Auntie 
 By a little girl like you, 
 Though we have no kin but friendship ? 
 Yes, indeed, I do. 
 
 Do you love to have the flowers 
 
 Nod as you pass by. 
 Breeze-tossed, seem to touch your garments, 
 
 Just to catch your eye ? 
 
 Do you love to have the wild birds 
 
 Answer to your call ? 
 Or when little leaves in dropping 
 
 Kiss you as they fall ? 
 
 Love is sweet from these, but sweeter, 
 
 Dearer far from you ; 
 So I love to have you call me 
 
 Auntie; yes, I do! 
 
20 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 GOING TO THE PARTY. 
 
 MONTH-OLD kit, 
 A wee, wee bit. 
 Was to a party g'oing ; 
 In ribbons dressed. 
 She looked her best, 
 So tiny and so knowing. 
 
 An offering 
 
 Woukl Annie bring 
 To place among the treasures. 
 
 That Katie sweet 
 
 Would gladly greet 
 With all her birthday pleasures. 
 
 So at the door 
 
 Stood coach and four 
 ('Twas Dollie's coach, I'll mention), 
 
 And four wee girls. 
 
 In crimps and curls. 
 Who, sure, were all attention. 
 
 Had Kitty been 
 
 In truth a queen. 
 No slaves had been more tender; 
 
 They wrapped her so 
 
 From ears to toe ! 
 And how she breathed, I wonder. 
 
 The gifts they gave! 
 
 Did Kit behave ? 
 'Twould be no use to warn her. 
 
 So in a heap 
 
 She went to sleep, 
 All cuddled in a corner! 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 21 
 
 CLEANING THE STOVE. 
 
 'VE been so busy, Mamma, 
 
 I wish you'd come and see, 
 My little doll-house stove was red 
 
 And soiled as it could be ; 
 But now it's all cleaned nicely; 
 
 I took the ink, you know, 
 And with my little dusting-brush 
 
 I rubbed it on, — just so. 
 
 And don't it shine ? O Mamma ! 
 
 Your eyes look big at me ! 
 My apron ? Why, my fingers got 
 
 As black as they could be, 
 And so I had to wipe 'em, 
 
 And what else could I take ! 
 The towel ? Why, that got all wet 
 
 With ink; for, goodness sake, 
 
 This naughty, naughty inkstand 
 
 Went tipping itself down, 
 And spotted all the carpet, 
 
 You see where it looks brown; 
 So with the towel, Mamma, 
 
 I got it out, — about; 
 I'm sorry now I did it, 
 
 I guess it'll all wash out! 
 
22 WAYSIDE AYILDINGS. 
 
 6( 
 
 THE RAINDROPS' CALL. 
 
 E^EEP up! peep up!" the raindrops say 
 
 In whispers low ; 
 ''Come, little grasses, wake to-day, — 
 
 Gone is the snow. 
 Come now from out your wintry homes, 
 Lay carpets soft, for sweet Spring comes. 
 
 "A tiny drop by every door 
 
 We've set for you. 
 That you may come more bright and pure 
 
 For passing through ; 
 We'll give you crowns of pearls to wear. 
 And strings of gems to make you fair. 
 
 "Come, grasses, softest winds shall greet 
 
 With news of Spring ; 
 The birds are here to sing you sweet 
 
 Their welcoming. 
 Come, then, for all the flowers stay 
 Till you have heralded the way." 
 
AVAYSIDE WILDINGS. 23 
 
 EASTER. 
 
 l(f^I'(^i E know, yes, we know the sweet spring time 
 is here. 
 
 Though under the hedges lie drifts of the snow. 
 For the birds have carolled it loudly and clear, 
 
 And God has made all His little birds know. 
 
 How gladly we welcome their free, happy songs, 
 That tell of bright pleasures the season will bring, 
 
 But, O, unto you, little children, belongs 
 A part in the chorus the birds may not sing. 
 
 You know, as they cannot, Who loved you, and said 
 Of such is His heavenly kingdom above, 
 
 Who died for our sakes,and Who rose from the dead, 
 To show us how endless and true is His love ; 
 
 To tell of the joys that may always be ours, 
 That never will fade, in a beautiful clime ; 
 
 Then let the birds sing of the waking of flowers. 
 Sing you : "Christ is risen," 'tis glad Easter time ! 
 
24 AVAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE SUN-RAY. 
 
 (( 
 
 1 
 
 OU'VE waked me from sleep, 
 
 Toil little sun-ray, 
 Opened my eyelids^ 
 
 And showed me bright day. 
 Where did you come from? 
 
 How long were you near ? 
 What were you doing 
 
 Before you came here ?" 
 
 'I came with the sun, 
 
 Have been to and fro, 
 Can't stop a minute 
 
 So far I must go. 
 Doing ? why, painting 
 
 A cloud gold and red 
 To ride in, then left it 
 
 Somewhere overhead. 
 
 'Down through a tree-top 
 
 I wakened each bird ; 
 Such musical greeting 
 
 You seldom have heard; 
 Opened some flower-cups, 
 
 Flashed through the fresh dew 
 Set leaf-shadows dancing, 
 
 Came here to see you!^ 
 
 'To comfort and warm 
 
 A sick child to-day 
 I promised, so good-bye," 
 
 Said little sun-ray. 
 He hurried by me 
 
 On a mission of love ; 
 Just one little sunbeam 
 
 From the great sun above. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 25 
 
 BESS AT COUSIN WILL'S. 
 
 ^^^ISCHIEVOUS Will, with liis eyes of blue, 
 Fun-light and joy-light are sparkling 
 through, 
 Ever is seeking some mischief new. 
 
 Put kitty near mice, give honey to bees, 
 To robins give cherries ; happier than these 
 Is Will if somebody's by to tease. 
 
 So, really, 'twasn't a bit of surprise 
 
 When Bessie came in with tears in her eyes, 
 
 Larger than plums in Thanksgiving pies. 
 
 They had climbed up the bank, some flowers had 
 
 found ; 
 AVhile Bess was plucking, the rogue turned round. 
 And sent her rolling way to the ground. 
 
 He locked her into the stable, then. 
 On more fun bent, let her out again ; 
 Such boots as came out of the old pig-pen! 
 
 He begged her so long in his cart to get, / 
 
 The consequence was poor Bess was upset; 
 The nettles he gave her she'll never forget. 
 
 He sent her hunting through barn and shed 
 For Watch, who had been a whole week dead; 
 Then off to the marsh for flag-roots sped. 
 
 Teasing, then kissing the one he has vexed, 
 How best to show grief he's very perplexed, 
 The same time thinking what to do next. 
 
 Mischievous Will, with his eyes of blue, 
 Fun-light and joy-light are glancing through, 
 Ever is seeking some mischief new. 
 
26 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Is ^^ ' sunny-liaired Lill, and earnest-eyed Will, 
 ^^^ To-day like glad birds free, 
 Went roaming the field's wild dell and hill, 
 Happy as happy could be. 
 
 They wandered knee-high through waves of grass, 
 
 White-crested with daisy wreaths ; 
 Through clover, that, crushed and bruised as they 
 pass. 
 
 Yet only in sweetness breathes. 
 
 Oh, many the treasures they proudly brought. 
 
 Of berry, or nest, or flower. 
 From the slopes and nooks, yes, every spot 
 
 From the hedge to woodbine bower. 
 
 From barberry ledge and buttercup dell 
 
 Came gold by the sun refined. 
 And red wine-globes from strawberry knoll. 
 
 In a last-year's nest, leaf -lined. 
 
 They brought gay lilies in purple and gold. 
 
 With ribbons all ruffled and veined; 
 Seed dandelions they coaxed to unfold 
 
 The truths their white heads contained. 
 
 They joyed in promise the hazel-boughs held. 
 
 The sweets of wild-cherry feasts ; 
 And up through the willows glad eyes beheld 
 
 Mother birds watching their nests. 
 
 They gathered sweet flag from the brook's dry bed. 
 
 And out from a shady spot, 
 "To keep for trimmings at Christmas," they said, 
 
 Bright mosses and ferns they brought.' 
 
 O sunny-haired Lill, and earnest-eyed Will ! 
 
 In the future will you so 
 In the world's great field together still 
 
 Find joys wherever you go ? 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 27 
 
 THE BEST, 
 
 vUTTERCUP gold! to me unfold 
 
 How came your shining dress of gold 
 Down from the sun to you ? 
 
 "I but looked up and he gave it me, 
 So still I look his face to see, 
 'Tis all a flower can do." 
 
 Succory blue! oh, tell me true, 
 How will you keep your bit of blue 
 You took from the sky to-day ? 
 "Oh, the morn will find it fresh and bright, 
 For I'll fold it in when comes the night, 
 ■ Safe in my heart away." 
 
 Treasure better than ye have I, 
 Than gold of sun or blue of sky. 
 
 That all the world may share, 
 May upward look and daily win, 
 By night may fold the joy within, 
 
 'Neath folded wings of prayer. 
 
28 WAYSIDE AVILDINGS. 
 
 BABY AND I. 
 
 H^ABY and I in the twilight sweet, 
 ^•^ Hearing the weary birds repeat 
 Cheery good-nights from tree to tree, 
 Dearest of all day's comfort see. 
 For weary, too, 
 With kiss and coo. 
 He gives up all his world — for me. 
 
 Baby and I in the twilight's glow. 
 Watching the branches to and fro 
 Waving good-nights to the golden west, 
 Welcome the hour we love the best. 
 
 We rock and sing, 
 
 Till Sleep we bring, 
 Who folds him in her downy nest. 
 
 Lingering still in the twilight gray, 
 After the radiance fades away, 
 I watch my darling, so still, so fair. 
 With thankful heart that to my care, 
 
 For happiness 
 
 No words express, 
 Awhile God trusts a gift so dear. 
 
 As in his little bed I place 
 My babe in all his slumbering grace. 
 Heaven's starry lamps are lit on hi^h. 
 One, angel-bome, now flashes by, 
 And by their light. 
 Through all the night, 
 Celestial watchers will be nigh. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 29 
 
 A BIRD-STORY. 
 
 TSkUCH gladsome stories came to me, 
 
 ^m 
 
 When leaves began their whispering, 
 Like fairies, in the maple tree. 
 While May was crowning Spring. 
 
 The fragrant breezes brought them clown 
 In happy songs that thrilled the air, 
 
 At morning, evening, and at noon. 
 About a bird-home there. 
 
 June came, and all her roses laid 
 At Summer's feet, when, one dark night, 
 
 The wild winds woful havoc made; 
 At morn, oli, what a sight! 
 
 Four tiny birds were on the ground. 
 Two dead, two peeping piteously; 
 
 While parent birds, in helpless round, 
 Wailed, oh, how grievously. 
 
 No care could bird to nest restore — 
 Two more ere evening came were dead; 
 
 Yet summer flowers no mourning wore. 
 And songs rang sweet o'erhead. 
 
 But One had marked the young birds' fall, 
 Wlio cares for you, for me, for all. 
 
30 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE DEAD PLAYMATE. 
 
 IaI ^ wonder three little girls imcler a tree 
 
 Were solemn one midsummer morn, 
 Nor heeded the sunshine, as bright as could Le, 
 For Pinkie, their playmate, was gone. 
 
 Pinkie ! why, that was the funniest way 
 
 To name a dog, black as a coal ! 
 But any who knew him as well as did they 
 
 Would never have thought it was droll. 
 
 "He 'served the prettiest name," they said, 
 
 Because he was honest and good. 
 Knowing and gentle whenever they played, 
 
 And never grew sulky and rude. 
 
 They made him a cross of the pink-topped burrs, 
 
 Set thickly with flowers about; 
 They covered his grave with wreaths and bouquets 
 
 And planted there many a root. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 31 
 
 TO A CRICKET. 
 
 a 
 
 fM^ RICKET, lonely, noon-day rover, 
 
 Through brown aster rows and clover, 
 Autumn winds blow wild to-day. 
 Do you list to what they say ? 
 
 "Cricket! Cricket! cease your singing, 
 Saddest news to you they're bringing." 
 But he sang and sang again. 
 Still the same glad, cheery strain. 
 
 What cared he for bright days going ? 
 What knew he of frosts and snowing ? 
 This he knew, to sing, not fret, 
 Through bright hours of sunshine yet. 
 
 Sing and sing, for God's sure keeping 
 Guards him till, for winter's sleeping. 
 He shall sing himself to rest; 
 More than this he thought nor guessed. 
 
S2 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 CALLING. 
 
 BY FIVE-YEAR-OLD BESSIE. 
 
 HAVE a tall great cousin, 
 
 He's much as ten, I guess. 
 He does the kindest things for me. 
 
 And calls me his queen Bess. 
 What do you think he did one day ? 
 
 I didn't know what to do, 
 I was so tired with every play. 
 
 And wanted something new. 
 
 So then he took his little cart 
 
 And said, "Let's go make calls; 
 So now jump in, and off we'll start. 
 
 And don't mind little falls." 
 I ran and got my hat, you know 
 
 The one with daisies fine. 
 And took my baby (that's my doll). 
 
 Oil, how the sun did shine ! 
 
 We went out to the concert first. 
 
 Up by the stony brook. 
 Where birds and frogs sang songs by turns. 
 
 Without a single book. 
 I liked the birds' sweet songs the best. 
 
 The frogs sing out so loud ; 
 I thought that one did pretty well, * 
 
 But, oh, he was so proud ! 
 
 We stayed a little while, and called 
 On Mrs. Squirrel then; 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 33 
 
 Slie saw us come and ran away, 
 We thought we'd call again! 
 
 A butterfly was going home, 
 And everywhere he strayed 
 
 We went, to see his house, hut he 
 Flew in a wall and stayed. 
 
 We called upon a sparrow then, 
 
 For Willie knew just where ; 
 But, oh, she cried and flew about, — 
 
 She did not want us there. 
 We thought of calling on the bees, 
 
 But were a bit afraid. 
 For they don't like much company 
 
 Until their honey 's made. 
 
 Some little toads were going home. 
 
 We followed quite a way, 
 But when they saw us they turned round, 
 
 And went away to play. 
 I told my cousin Willie then 
 
 To take me home again; 
 That no one wanted company 
 
 I thought was very plain. 
 
 My ride was very pleasant, 
 
 I only had three falls. 
 But think I'll never go again, — 
 
 I'm 'scouraged making calls! 
 But if some one should call on me, 
 
 I wouldn't run away. 
 Nor hide, nor cry, nor turn around, 
 
 But just sit down and play. 
 
34 WAYSIDK WILDINGS. 
 
 THE TWO DOLLS. 
 
 I LARIBEL sits in her silken dress, 
 In the parlor cold and fine ; 
 
 In print and turban is old black Bess, 
 Out in the warm sunshine, 
 
 Helping to form the prettiest group. 
 At an out-doors, sand-pie tea; 
 
 Claribel only can sit and mope 
 In her lonely dignity. 
 
 Too fair is her skin, too rich her dress. 
 For the sunlight or for play; 
 
 'Tis little she knows of happiness, 
 Save on some festival day. 
 
 Oh, surely 'twas easy for one to guess 
 Which doll their mamma loved best, 
 
 When seeing how often old black Bess 
 Close in her arms would be pressed. 
 
 So homely Bess, in her homely gown. 
 Knows plenty of love and fun ; 
 
 Claribel sits in grandeur alone ; 
 Which is the happier one ? 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 35 
 
 UNDER THE APPLE-TREE. 
 
 p) HERE'S a beautiful airy cage, roofed o'er 
 With the apple-tree's leaf and fruit; 
 Flowers, sun-flecks, and shadows dance over the 
 floor, 
 At the call of the crickets' flute. 
 Of a misty gold are the bars and door, 
 By the sun in the west forged out. 
 
 A sand-heap is there where cooking is done 
 
 For many a company gay ; 
 Swing, tilt, and hammock, for frolic and fun. 
 
 And somebody's there at play, 
 In the half-veiled glow of the autumn sun. 
 
 With Kitty and dear doUie May. 
 
 Merrily Kitty with grasshoppers plays, 
 While Dollie, tied fast in the swing, 
 
 Now hither, now thither, with every breeze sways 
 Like a butterfly dreaming on wing. 
 
 Oh, somebody there sees happier days 
 Than they know at the court of a king. 
 
 How soon will be faded the beautiful cage, 
 Fruit garnered, leaf fled from the bough, 
 
 And soon, oh, so soon, will life's burdens engage 
 The heart pure and innocent now ; 
 
 Yet memory will picture these hours when age 
 Has scattered his snows on her brow. 
 
36 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE LITTLE LEAF. 
 
 Y OU little bright leaf, so slow fluttering 
 ^ down, 
 
 You've changed your green robes for crimson and 
 
 brown, 
 Why is it you leave your nic« home on the tree ?" 
 "Oh, I'm old enough and I want to be free!" 
 
 So slowly he sailed, then lay on the green 
 Watching if grasshoppers' homes could be seen ; 
 Soon a brisk breeze whispered, "Come, come with 
 
 me, 
 We'll journey together, and both will be free." 
 
 Then off with the breeze he went wandering away. 
 Till, worn, bent, and ragged, he begged her to stay, 
 And let him find somcM^here a moment of rest. 
 But the frolicsome breeze would not grant his re- 
 quest. 
 
 Some children passed near; the breeze whispered, 
 
 "look!" 
 And said something dreadful of "death in a book;" 
 And hurrying oft' she whirled him around, 
 Now up to the fence-tops, now down to the ground. 
 
 He was rolled on the gravel and tossed on the brier, 
 And barely escaped the gardener's brush fire; 
 She poised the poor trembler just over the well, 
 Off again on the rock-heap well mangled he fell. 
 
 She twirled him once more, till he dropped quite 
 
 dead 
 In the tangling leaves of the strawberry bed ; 
 Then away she hied in her cruel sport. 
 And I saw some other poor leaves she had caught. 
 
 So always I'm sorry whenever I see 
 
 Little leaves try from their homes to be free. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 37 
 
 THE WISH-BONE. 
 
 ^^E) HE monstrous turkey was nigh gone 
 ^ Upon Thanksgiving day, 
 
 When papa spied tlie wisli-bone out, 
 And said to little May: 
 "Now here is something precious, May, 
 Just take off all the meat, 
 And let it dry awhile, then we 
 
 Will wish for something sweet; 
 For candies, or for dolls, or books, 
 
 For Christmas time or now; 
 And you or I will have our wish. 
 Papa will show you how." 
 
 To May the wish-hone's virtues were 
 
 A mystery quite new. 
 So young was she; she danced for joy, 
 
 Her eyes went dancing, too. 
 But she had had of dinner then 
 
 A bounteous, goodly store, 
 And of either turkey or dessert, 
 
 Could not eat one bit more. 
 
 Now kitty slept upon the rug 
 
 Just where a sunbeam lay. 
 And such a wise and brilliant thought 
 
 Occurred to little May ! 
 She caught up kitty from her nap, 
 
 And said, "Now, kitty, dear, 
 I'll hold you here upon my lap 
 
 While you this bone make clear 
 Of every speck of meat for me." 
 
 And kit most willing was 
 To do her part, and do it well. 
 
 In such a worthy cause. 
 
 But hark ! crack ! crack ! crunch ! crunch ! 
 May heard, 
 
 And cried, "Oh, kitty! kitty! 
 You've eaten bone and all! Oh, dear!" 
 
 So we could only pity. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 COASTING. 
 
 [#))h, the jolliest coasters that ever were seen 
 
 Were Winnie, and Minnie, and brave Harry 
 Green, 
 In the warmest of wrappings, from toe up to chin, 
 That ever have covered such little folks in. 
 
 Oh, bright was the sunshine, though cold was the 
 
 air, 
 And snow-gems were glistening everywhere, 
 But brighter than these were the sparkling glad 
 
 eyes; 
 They always tell truly what in the heart lies. 
 
 Now coasting, and sliding, and snow-balls to throw. 
 Make merriest frolics the children can know; 
 So Minnie, and Winnie, and Harry so bold. 
 Had all that their hearts of pleasure could hold. 
 
 Till — the saddest of coasters that ever were seen, 
 Were Winnie, and Minnie, and poor Harry Green; 
 Cold fingers, cold toes, and with Hal's .bleeding 
 
 nosel 
 So, crying, to mamma the brave trio goes! 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 39 
 
 a 
 
 WINTER BIRDS. 
 
 pjH, wee brown birds of winter! 
 Ye fear not cold or snow, 
 But stay the days to gladden, 
 Though sweeter songsters go. 
 
 "What mean your merry chirpings. 
 That seem but half a song ?" 
 
 ''There's One who knows, and hears us, 
 For we to him belong. 
 
 "And we, brown birds of winter, 
 Though poor our song may be. 
 Know He who heareth, careth 
 For us as well as thee." 
 
40 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 '•WHERE were beautiful clouds o'er the deep, 
 
 blue sky, 
 Like whitest of snow-drifts flown on high ; 
 There were glittering fields of pure, pure snow. 
 Like heaven's own whiteness fallen below; 
 So the earth and the sky their beauties had blent, 
 When the children to grandmamma's Christmas- 
 day went. 
 
 There were fringes of crystal and borders of gems. 
 On fences, and house-tops, like kings' diadems; 
 There were tall trees jewelled like daintiest lace, 
 And evergreens knotted and tasselled with grace. 
 But the loveliest tree of them all that day, 
 Was* grandmamma's tree in Christmas array. 
 
 Not richer for gifts than the dear, loving thought, 
 That gladdened their hearts with the joy it brought. 
 Till the day so hallow' d in peace and good will. 
 With the angel-songs seemed echoing stijl; 
 And we knew there was One who was glad in 
 
 Heaven 
 That Christ and Christmas to earth were given. 
 
m 
 
 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 41 
 
 SEEKING SUNSHINE. 
 
 EACHING for tright spots of sunshine, 
 ^ Baby creeps about the floor, 
 Coos, and grasps ere leafy shadows 
 
 Sweep and shut them o'er. 
 Seeking after spots of sunshine, 
 
 I, too, baby, love to be. 
 Far along the past I see them 
 
 Shining bright for me — 
 
 Shining bright,';till memory seemeth 
 
 Like a cheery, sun-flecked room, 
 And. like you, I strive to hold them 
 
 Ere they fade in gloom. 
 Would we, little one, learn wisdom. 
 
 Many, many wearying hours 
 Would we know such sweet employment, 
 
 And more joys be ours. 
 
 What if life seem now but cheerless. 
 
 Sunlight has been and will be; 
 Eeaching out through hope or memory, 
 
 Brightness we may see. 
 For we know where shadows deepest 
 
 Long o'er weary lives have lain, 
 Ever hath the good All-Father 
 
 Sunlight brought again. 
 
42 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 A SONG OF SPRING. 
 
 ^ OMING, coming, coming!" 
 ^-^ The Spring's dear voice is heard 
 From upland, vale and wildwood, 
 In trill of happy bird. 
 "Coming, coming, coming!" 
 She whispers from the hills, 
 And sings it to the flowers 
 Asleep by tripping rills. 
 
 In haloed grace she cometh 
 
 With smiles and frowns to-day, 
 But wooing, golden sunbeams 
 
 Kiss all her tears away. 
 Lo ! answering her greeting. 
 
 Each with a rainbowed crown. 
 In crowds the grasses gather 
 
 And hide the meadows' brown. 
 
 Soft listening, half-way dreaming, 
 
 Their feet the flowers stir; 
 Impatient for their robing, 
 
 Reach loyal trees to her. 
 The hooded ferns are w^aking, 
 
 The sweet-briar reddens nigh. 
 And violet and pansy 
 
 As rival comers vie. 
 
 The w^illow's beads are glistening, 
 
 A bee on idle wing 
 His busy tune is humming 
 
 In welcome to the Spring. 
 And listening, w^aiting, listening, 
 
 For each cadence of her voice. 
 How every heart with Nature 
 
 Doth gratefully rejoice. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 43 
 
 CALLING THE FLOVV^ERS. 
 
 i«IST! the April rain is falling, 
 And its whispers on the air 
 To the summer's flowers are calling, 
 Calling, calling, everywhere. 
 
 Call them, rains; oh, call them early. 
 In their radiant garments all, 
 
 Blue, and gold, and pink, and pearly, 
 Bid them hasten at your call. 
 
 Bid the loveliest of their number, 
 Where a wearied head lies low 
 
 In the peace of dreamless slumber, 
 There, in troops, with sweetness go. 
 
 Till the fresh mound, hid in flowers, 
 Summer's dearest haunt shall be; 
 
 Typing so perennial bowers 
 Waiting us the loved ones see. 
 
44 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 'M^HEY all are here — the garden flowers; 
 ^ We greet them, every one, 
 
 Each dear, dear face, in its old-time place. 
 In fresh, glad life begun. 
 
 Peony, blushing as if she came 
 
 Scarce willing to be seen; 
 Sweet William, sweet in more than name. 
 
 And Pinks in mist-hid green. 
 
 Brave Hyacinth, and Crocus gay. 
 
 And Tulips bright and bold. 
 Strew garlands at the feet of May, 
 
 Of pink, white, blue and gold. 
 
 Here Lily of the A^alley holds 
 
 Her wrappings closely yet; 
 There Baby's-Breath its tiers unfolds 
 
 By Daffodils thick-set. 
 
 Spireas pink and white are here, 
 And soon their waving plumes 
 
 Will sway above the Bluebells near 
 And bright-eyed Pansy blooms. 
 
 And Dielytra, Columbine, 
 
 And sweet-breathed Phlox are come. 
 While Ragged Robin, proud and fine, 
 
 Walls in the garden home. 
 
 And many more, yes, all, are here, 
 Though hid the winter through; 
 
 Not rare exotics, yet all dear — 
 These olden friends and true. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 45 
 
 MAYING. 
 
 LOVED voice said, 
 'Come Maying, come Maying with me!" 
 I shook my head, 
 ''Nay, nay, not with thee. 
 
 "To thy young heart 
 Should sunlight, song and flower 
 
 Full joy impart; 
 I would not cloud an hour 
 
 "Of thy glad May; 
 So with hearts light as thine. 
 
 Go, idly stray. 
 And fresh, wild flowers entwine, 
 
 "Like happy bird. 
 Sing out your heart-songs free, 
 With no thought stirred 
 Within thee, once, for me. 
 
 "I'll, too, keep May 
 In Memory's fields alone. 
 
 In my own way 
 Loved best, while thou art gone. 
 
 "For flowers are there 
 That never, never die, 
 
 But bloom as fair 
 As May were always nigh. 
 
 "So each will have 
 Joys we love well to-day; 
 'T was sorrow gave 
 Me sweeter flowers than May." 
 
46 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 A PROPHECY. 
 
 IJjCTaIDEN, 'neath the apple blooms, 
 Where the cool wimls kiss, 
 Where the nesting wild-bird roams, 
 Trilling out his bliss, 
 Upon thy face such tender grace, 
 A rose a sister rose might trace. 
 What calls it ? Step of one who comes ? 
 Or is 't the cool winds' kiss ? 
 
 Ah me ! ah me I the blooms will fall ; 
 
 June's roses all will die; 
 Birds' songs grow still, and nests be all 
 Forsaken by and by; 
 And well I know his false heart so, 
 That ere the summer's glories go, 
 Thy cheek will pale, and sorrow's thrall 
 On tliy young life will lie. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 47 
 
 MAY. 
 
 IjECAUSE no more stern frosts will chill, 
 -^ Nor deepening snows come falling, 
 Because from every vale and hill 
 
 A welcome voice is calling. 
 Glad birds, from morning until night, 
 
 Make merry o'er their mating, 
 And sing and toil with rare delight, 
 
 Nest-Edens so creating; 
 Till buds peep out and look about, 
 
 And find 'tis time for coming, 
 And bees go sailing in and out, 
 
 Of winter's sweet dreams humming. 
 
 Sweet flowers, with each happy day, 
 
 Are wakening together. 
 And almost we may hear them say 
 
 "Good morning" to each other. 
 Gay streamlets down the hillsides run, 
 
 Their summer's song beginning. 
 And, where the unwary flowers look down. 
 
 Their hearts like lovers winning, 
 Bright, silvery fish, like arrows, dart, 
 
 Through lucid waters springing, 
 And frogs are piping loud a part 
 
 They'd have us think is singing. 
 
 And squirrels frisk, and lambkins plav, 
 
 0]er young, soft grasses bounding, " 
 While childhood's voice the long, glad day 
 
 With rapturous joy is sounding. 
 Soft, golden rains come flitting down 
 
 Where hopeful hands are sowing, 
 And bows of promise, arching, crown 
 
 The May-time, ere her going. 
 
48 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 EDIE. 
 
 1^[ERSELF a flower, 
 She came when May had made the world all sweet 
 
 with them; 
 So fair, that He who gave her, for His diadem 
 Took her one summer hour. 
 
 How still and white 
 The wee form grew whence fled her soul so pure, 
 
 so dear; 
 For that loved presence bright, came sorrow wait- 
 ing near. 
 Departing day nor night. 
 
 For this the loss, — 
 To miss from heart and home, through all life's 
 
 coming days. 
 What made their dearest joy — her sweet and win- 
 ning ways ; 
 An ever-present cross. 
 
 But in her gain, 
 Safe sheltered now within the Saviour's fold to 
 
 rest, 
 Who loved His little ones of earth, and loved them 
 best. 
 There will come peace with pain. 
 
 And waiting still 
 A little longer here where shadows come and go. 
 We soon, in heaven, once more our darling's love 
 will know, — 
 
 There understand God's will. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 49 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 '•^lyHE tired ones are all at home; 
 
 With slow and wearied tread and mien, 
 That tell of toil-full hours between 
 The cheery morn and this, they've come. 
 
 All day the summer's songful peace, 
 Its beauty, freshness, all were mine, 
 And brought me gladness half divine 
 
 That with the evening doth not cease. 
 
 Oh, could I, like a mantle, fold 
 About their weariness my joy, 
 My soul would know more sweet employ 
 
 Than all the happy day hath told. 
 
 Do ye so wait until we come, 
 
 O loved ones in the mansions fair ? 
 So fold o'er us the peace ye share. 
 
 When we, the tired ones, reach home. 
 
50 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE MORNING BREEZE. 
 
 HROUGH the purple gates of day 
 
 Royally rode forth the sun, 
 When, with something sweet to say 
 
 Joyfully to every one, 
 Cheerily to listless trees. 
 
 Grasses, flowers, birds and streams. 
 From the west a merry breeze 
 
 Rose, and woke the world from dreams. 
 
 With a rushing, bustling whir, 
 
 Such a rustling, hustling sound — 
 Like an ocean tide astir — 
 
 Billowy trees, like waves, rebound. 
 Grasses flutter in their bliss, 
 
 Dizzy dewdrops fall below; 
 Every leaf its mate doth kiss. 
 
 Vain, sweet flowers coquetting bow. 
 
 Now to dance in wildest grace, 
 
 Leafy shadows he awakes ; 
 There the river's golden face 
 
 Into myriad gems he breaks. 
 Shakes the sweets from each wild rose, 
 
 Honeyed dews in golden spray. 
 How distilling, no one knows, 
 
 All the wealth he bears away. 
 
 Rouses in each fern-bowered bed 
 
 Happy butterflies from rest; 
 Mingles to one trill overhead 
 
 Songs from every wakened nest. 
 Weaves and folds he to and fro 
 
 Fleecy rolls of cloud, snow-white,. 
 Piling high and piling low. 
 
 Pageants gorgeous, grand and bright. 
 
 Sweet the message that he brought, 
 Thirsting Earth heard not in vain ; 
 
 Ere the noon, with blessing fraught, 
 Fell the welcome summer rain. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 51 
 
 FOR ALL. 
 
 -(*; 
 
 OT alone in one wee hamlet, 
 *^ Hill-environed, peaceful, fair. 
 Morning paints her dews with rainbows. 
 Brings her sw^eet airs only there. 
 
 Doth the glory of the sunset 
 
 Only in the west unfold ? 
 Lo! the wide, free arch of heaven 
 
 Knows i-ts purples, pink and gold. 
 
 Never sunlight, never moonlight 
 
 Seek but beauty to illume; 
 Captive cell and lowliest dwelling 
 
 Enter they to break the gloom. 
 
 Summer hides not song and blooming 
 Close within one garden wall; 
 
 Nay — with bounteous hand she scatters 
 Wild, sweet songs and flowers for all. 
 
 More than these doth He who made them 
 Shower for every heart His grace; 
 
 More than these His wise, wide loving 
 Brightens every time and place. 
 
 Yet, because few flowers I gather. 
 That, downcast, no sun I see, 
 
 Oh, how oft I doubting murmur, 
 
 "Lord! how long forsak'st thou me!" 
 
52 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 A MORNING THOUGHT. 
 
 jS'lE wake more oft to rosy morns 
 
 Than those with clouds o'erhung', 
 Though storm or star, though smile or tear, 
 
 We fall asleep among; 
 Perhaps to martyr-lives of pain, 
 
 To joy-sweet, care-free days ; 
 Love holds the mingled cup we drain, 
 
 And recompense repays. 
 
 And whether lilies or the snows 
 
 For crowning earth shall be, 
 Or, looking up through barren boughs, 
 
 Or leaf-twined rifts, we see 
 God's sun, his stars, his love, his heaven. 
 
 Where morn is always fair, 
 Love hath to all this dear hope given, 
 
 That changeless morn to share. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 53 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 J^ OFT throuo-h the open window ' 
 The sweetest, faintest song 
 Comes floating down the rustling 
 Of the maple's leafy throng. 
 
 But mother-love could bring it 
 Such tenderness of tone ; 
 
 But mother-bird could sing it, 
 And only to her own. 
 
 How sweetly through the pauses 
 
 Of louder songs it runs. 
 Like Love's low, soothing murmurs 
 
 Unto Life's wearied ones. 
 
 'Tis love alone can bring them 
 
 Such tenderness of tone, 
 And only love can sing them 
 
 So dearly to its own. 
 
54 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE LILY'S GEM 
 
 E may draw from the lake a lily, 
 When the summer hours are sweet, 
 
 And sparkling low in its heart of gold 
 A gem from the winter greet 
 
 'Twas an icicle's bead, it may be, 
 That passing the window by, 
 
 A sun-lit gem, looked cheerily in, 
 Like the glance of a kindly eye. 
 
 On the breast of a tiny streamlet, 
 Then down to the lake it hied, 
 
 And wandered long, till the lily leaned 
 And claimed it as her pride. 
 
 There is oft in the heart of a blessing 
 
 That after a woe doth fall. 
 Some grace from the hour of sorrow, 
 
 The dearest joy of it all. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 HE time for the blooming is over, 
 
 And up to the soft June skies 
 Look buttercup, daisy and clover, 
 
 As with worshipful eyes. 
 
 And deeper and darker the sJiadows 
 
 Over the woodpath play, 
 Or dapple the restful meadows, ' 
 
 Where, through the dreamy day. 
 
 Contented the cattle are lying; 
 
 Ajid hidden in nest-hung trees. 
 Young songs with the old are vying; 
 
 Yet thought stays not with these. 
 
 The world is all sweet with its roses. 
 Now clambering in at the door, 
 
 Till where a sunbeam reposes 
 In shadow they dance on the floor. 
 
 Here peeping untrained through the hedges. 
 There climbing the garden wall, 
 
 Or humbly in wayside edges 
 Sweets uplifting to all. 
 
 And sweeter the days go, and rarer. 
 
 Each holding a new surprise ; 
 I wonder if they can be fairer 
 
 To thee in Paradise. 
 
 I wonder if, through heaven's gladness, 
 Far more than the June brings me, 
 
 There comes one shade of the sadness 
 I know in missing thee. 
 
56 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE NEW STRIFE. 
 
 L4«ET us whisper close together, 
 l— ^ Heart, to-day. 
 
 Earnestly, that we may gather 
 Strength from what we say. 
 
 Knowing well God's love is o'er us, 
 
 Let us see 
 How to meet the strife before us. 
 
 Boldly, rightfully. 
 
 We have heard its slow, sure coming, 
 
 Humbly bowed; 
 Even as Nature at the booming 
 
 Of far tempest cloud. 
 
 Shall we not like her, too, greet it, 
 
 Fearlessly ; 
 And though shaken, bent, we meet it. 
 
 Crushed nor helpless be ? 
 
 Let us all its higher meaning 
 
 Read aright; 
 Piercing past its gloom, and gleaning 
 
 Tet some rays of light. 
 
 Finding peace that follows giving 
 
 To His will; 
 All, e'en all the joy of living; 
 
 His love holding still. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 57 
 
 GUIDED. 
 
 I H, never a bird will lose its way 
 
 In the network of the trees, 
 Nor the brook its song and tripping stay 
 Because it is not always day, 
 
 Or the rock a hindrance is. 
 
 See how the lovely mosses grow, 
 
 So pretty and so green, 
 Though the grasses try to hide them so, 
 And even under winter's snow 
 
 They're bright as ever seen. 
 
 From a rifted rock glad flowers peep 
 
 Out on the sunlit air; 
 Far downward tiny rootlets creep. 
 And find wealth in a wee earth heap 
 
 The breezes swept in there. 
 
 They're precious truths ye say to me, 
 
 O bird, brook, moss and flower ! 
 Though devious ways, strife, dearth I see. 
 Who guideth you my guide will be, 
 However dark the hour. 
 
58 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE SECRET, 
 
 IAIDIE! with the merry face, 
 
 Stay thee ! tell me this : 
 Whence your witchery and grace, 
 Why your full lieart's bliss ? 
 
 Maidie ! Maidie ! I can guess 
 
 Truer than yovi'll say; 
 Pretty blushes so confess 
 
 E'en when lips say nay. 
 
 Aye, the rose is very sweet, 
 
 Aye, the violets too ; 
 Would you so with kisses greet 
 
 Gave I them to you ? 
 
 Maidie! than the rose's breath. 
 
 Dearer far, I ween, 
 Is the secret that it saith, 
 
 Love has written in. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 59 
 
 A JUNE NIGHT. 
 
 rpj BEAUTIFUL and still June night! 
 >E/ Now roses waked to blowing, 
 Yet nod and dream till morning light 
 Brings lird, breeze, bee a-wooing. 
 
 The birds have hushed their young to rest 
 
 With many a sweet song-story, 
 While hues were fading east and west. 
 
 That made the sunset's glory. 
 
 Like dear home-lights on heavenly heights 
 
 God's altar fires are shining, 
 Bright threads of hope through wandering thoughts 
 
 Their radiant beams are twining. 
 
 From dewy flowers the night wind comes, 
 
 All sw^eet and cool with blessing, 
 Like whispers soft from spirit homes, 
 
 Like tender hands caressing, 
 
 I too have hushed my babe to rest, 
 
 With many a loved song-story. 
 While hues were fading east and west. 
 
 That made the sunset's glory. 
 
 Hark ! on the still night air a cry 
 
 From parent bird is ringing. 
 That tells of fright and danger nigh — 
 
 Ah ! morn will wake no singing 
 
 From one wee nest! O still June night! 
 
 With even thee is sorrow; 
 Bring none to me ! make glad and bright 
 
 With j)rattle my to-morrow. 
 
60 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 A LULLABY. 
 
 y^ OBIN! singing to the lilies, 
 
 Sing low, sing sweet, oh, sweet, 
 To the lilies in the brooklet 
 Sleeping at thy feet. 
 
 Sing and swing upon the willows 
 
 As they kiss the stream ; 
 Sing low, sing sweet, oh, sweet, so sweet, 
 
 Wake not the lilies' dream. 
 
 O breeze ! breathe soft your harps among, 
 O birds ! hush all your glee ; 
 
 While Robin sings his love in song 
 As sweet as song can be. 
 
 So sweet, so low, I cannot go, 
 
 But list as ne'er before; 
 Could I sing lilies' lullabies, 
 
 I'd sing them o'er and o'er. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 61 
 
 TO A CRICKET. 
 
 J CRICKET! songs of ours 
 
 Together did begin ; 
 Thine from the low grass bowers, 
 Mine from my heart within. 
 
 Like sudden burst of joy 
 
 Uprose thy cheery lay, 
 Yet one more gladsome voice 
 
 Thrilling the golden day. 
 
 Did this sweet autumn hour 
 
 Awake anew thy love 
 As mine, and lead thy voice 
 
 In grateful praise above ? 
 
 For this, and this, and this, 
 The glad things our eyes see ! 
 
 And this, and this, and this, 
 God's gifts to you and me ? 
 
62 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THOU GOD SEEST ME. 
 
 OT as in cliildliood's morn 
 With these blest words to-day 
 
 Were fear and trembling born, 
 To cloud with awe my way. 
 
 Not that my soul more pure 
 Fears not Thy watchful eye ; 
 
 But, oh, I so much more 
 Need Thee, my Father, nigh. 
 
 Not that my feet more firm 
 May climb the upward way; 
 
 But Thy sustaining arm 
 I need so oft, to stay. 
 
 More than before will glow 
 As blessings all divine. 
 
 Each trial I may know, 
 Each sorrow that is mine. 
 
 Though earth for me should be 
 A friendless wilderness, 
 
 Since Thou God seest me 
 My soul hath happiness. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 63 
 
 SUMMER GOING. 
 
 N*. WIFTLY summer speeds away, 
 On the bloomint^ waits decay. 
 
 Ere the roses shed their snows, , 
 Crickets tell us, "Summer goes." 
 
 Less of song makes morning known ; 
 Nests are empty, nestlings flown. 
 
 Even while the lilies bloom, 
 
 Down the air some dead leaves come. 
 
 Daily seeds are ripening, 
 Harvests are in-gathering. 
 
 Barns, with sweet, new hay heaped high, 
 Robbed the daisied fields just by. 
 
 As in gladness lurks regret. 
 Autumn's signals so are set 
 
 All along sweet Summer's way; 
 Prize her, prize her while we may. 
 
64 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 'M] OOD nioht to thee! o'er eastern hills 
 ^^ Has star-eyed evening' leaned to see 
 The sunset gates fold in their gold; 
 Now comes she silently. 
 
 All day I've known thee near, so near, 
 Our wonted day of sweet commune, 
 
 When each to each grew yet more dear; 
 Oh, blessed day! fled all too soon. 
 
 I've read the books we loved to share, 
 I've sung the songs we oft did sing, 
 
 At table set for thee a chair, 
 And gave thee dearest welcoming. 
 
 Three times have song-birds waked from sleep 
 
 Sweet April's pets, the violets, 
 Since we were parted, I to weep, 
 
 Thou to know joys, without regrets. 
 
 Yet it is sweet to fancy so, 
 
 That thou from Heaven canst brin^ its cheer 
 To bless some days, since this we know. 
 
 That Christ has risen, and can be near. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 65 
 
 CLIMBING. 
 
 ^^JoiLWORN, yet patiently, we climbed 
 The hillside's weary way; 
 Behind us, on far peaceful hills, 
 The gold of sunset lay. 
 
 With clouds bright-hued the purpling sky 
 
 O'erhead was braided o'er, 
 But glory by the sunset gates 
 
 The hill rose high before. 
 
 Our feet pressed up the shadowed way, 
 No sunlight reached to bless ; 
 
 When gained, the hill-top's height revealed 
 Wide realms of loveliness. 
 
 So climb we, toiling day by day, 
 The mount that heaven doth hide. 
 
 We walk in shadow of the hill, 
 And climb the shaded side. 
 
 Behind us lies the sunny past, 
 
 Above, our hope and light, 
 But who may speak the glory theirs 
 
 Who reach the topmost height ? 
 
66 WAYSIDE WII>DINGS. 
 
 IN SEPTEMBER. 
 
 LIMBING rosy cloud-bars, sunset 
 
 Piles "across the eastern sky; 
 Slow the moon in regal glory 
 
 Mounts her violet throne on high, 
 Drops her misty veil and silveiy 
 
 Down upon the river's face, 
 Spreads her softened rays far reaching, 
 
 Till the sunset hues embrace. 
 
 Comes she so, the fair queen, counting 
 
 All her wealth ere daylight dies. 
 Envying half the sun's wise knowing 
 
 All September's mysteries; 
 Listening, if by day the cricket 
 
 Still the same glad joy-bell rings, 
 Noting wines the grape is hiding 
 
 Under leaf-thatched coverings. 
 
 Down through orchard lanes, moss-tufted, 
 Droning flies yet float and dive. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 67 
 
 And the bees, a-weary roaming, 
 
 Croon in gossip round tlie hive. 
 Fruits, red, russet, gokl, and fragrant. 
 
 Peer from glossy nests o'erhead. 
 Or, as ours were royal footsteps. 
 
 Pave the sun-gilt way we tread. 
 Golden light like sunset's lingers 
 
 Through the mellow, sunny day, 
 Leaves widespread its magic touches 
 
 Evening doth not take away. 
 Grolden-rod the wayside fringes, 
 
 Leaves of gold gem many a tree , 
 Golden tints lie in the purples 
 
 Veiling far-off mystery. 
 Not like summer's joyous carols 
 
 Sound the few birds' songs to-night, 
 But like plaintive prayers, and weary. 
 
 We from burdened souls recite. 
 
 Now the gray cloud-bars of sunset 
 Lie low by the eastern hills ; 
 
 High and lone the moon is reigning, 
 And the world with beauty thrills. 
 
68 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 TIME TO GO. 
 
 (( 
 
 ►IXGER, linger, happy hours I" 
 ' Summer calleth low, 
 As she strays among her bowers, 
 Grieving, loth to go. 
 
 One by one fair flowers went winging 
 
 Silent flights away, 
 Yet about her some are clinging, 
 
 As they loved to stay. 
 
 Many farewells hath she spoken ;, 
 
 Merry birds no more 
 Wake the world from sweet dreams, broken 
 
 But to live them o'er. 
 
 Faded leaves her crown is showing, 
 
 Some have dropped away; 
 Crickets sing, "'Tis time for going," 
 
 Clock-like, night and day. 
 
 Time to go, for autumn lighteth 
 
 Now her evening fires. 
 Torch of golden-rod, and setteth 
 
 Sumach's flaming spires. 
 
 Veiled in purple cloisters dyeth 
 
 Sunset-hued far hills, 
 Where her lone, sad songs she trieth, 
 
 'Mong their woods and rills. 
 
 Softly, "linger precious hours!" 
 
 Through tear-haunted skies 
 Summer calls, and o'er her bowers 
 
 Smiles her sad good byes. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 I WATCHED a wild bird wing his way 
 Through silent depths on high, 
 Undaunted by the sun's fierce ray, 
 Or lonely, pathless sky. 
 
 His flight was bold; so high, his song 
 
 Fell not in echo down; 
 Yet well I know, ere long, ere long — 
 
 With pinions weary grown. 
 
 For rest, for home — on earth again 
 
 His drooping wings would fold. 
 He sought, through wide, wide skies, in vain. 
 
 For what one nest could hold. 
 
 O human thought! thanks, thanks be given! 
 
 That, bird-like, so can fly 
 From bonds of earth, e'en far as heaven, 
 
 And find its rest on high. 
 
70 WAYSIDE AVILIUXGS. 
 
 MY REALM. 
 
 BRIGHT leaf said, "I'm going to rest," 
 
 And kissed nie as it fell; 
 I said: Nay, nay, be thou my guest, 
 
 I'll keep thee long and well. 
 Some day the summer's story we 
 
 Together will recall. 
 Its rare, sweet hours to you and me. 
 
 And this blest day of all, 
 When here within this golden bower, 
 
 The maple's radiant dress, 
 I sat a queen, queen for an hour, 
 
 In ideal happiness ; 
 A royal carpet at my feet 
 
 Deep, soft with leaves of gold ; 
 They, fluttering, passed me by, and fell. 
 
 Like wealth we may not hold. 
 
 My realm was wide as eye might span. 
 By Autumn's hand made fair 
 
 With hues resplendent, and more bright 
 For sunlight resting there. 
 
 Afar through crimson aisles I caught 
 The river's joyous thrill. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 71 
 
 Or over gorgeous, billowy trees^ 
 
 As tideless seas, so still, 
 I marked the shadowy hills dissolve 
 
 In purple distances; 
 Contented Fancy questioned not 
 
 Their mystic boundaries. 
 
 Content I held the seen, the near, 
 
 One hour from thraldom free 
 Of care, heart-pain, and toil, and doubt, 
 
 That rule and weary me, — 
 One grateful hour to count joys mine. 
 
 In Nature's peace to share, 
 Or with the crickets at my feet 
 
 To join the chorus there. 
 
 But, Heart ! how Nature, smiling, yields 
 Each gift the summer brought. 
 
 Bird, flower and fruit, leaf, beauty, all ! 
 Has she no lesson taught ? 
 
 O sweet Content! no kingly land 
 
 Were goodly, wanting thee ; 
 Thou makest, if narrowed to my bower. 
 
 My realm enough for me. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 FALLING LEAVES. 
 
 'LUTTER lightly, golden leaves ! 
 
 Hover soft and slowly, 
 Seeking so your wintry graves 
 'Mong the grasses lowly. 
 
 Flutter gently, pretty leaves ! 
 
 Cover soft and slowly 
 Deep our precious, new-made graves, 
 
 Cherished, loved and holy. 
 
 Shield them so, O dying leaves ! 
 
 From all cold and snowing; 
 Make ye there your wintry graves, 
 
 Pity, pity showing. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 73 
 
 THE FLEEING BIRDS. 
 
 p)JH, better that every bird should go, 
 
 Than stay but pitiful songs to sing, 
 
 Or buffeted, chilled by winds and snow, 
 
 With voices weary to greet the spring. 
 
 » 
 Better to sing the summers away, 
 
 Now here, now there, among the flowers ; 
 We own the Love that teaches the way 
 
 His birds should go through wintry hours. 
 
 Yet, yet we grieve when out of the cold 
 And battle of life our loved ones go 
 
 To the summer-land, the heavenly fold, 
 Where more than His birds His care they know. 
 
 10 
 
74 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 DREARY. 
 
 m 
 
 HERE'S not a bit of blue in the sky, 
 
 No tinge of blue in the air; 
 The world seems gray, and cold, and dead, 
 And lonely everywhere. 
 
 The birds have flown, the leaves are gone, 
 
 No flower lights up the way ; 
 The winds can only sigh and moan, 
 
 The world is sad to-day. 
 
 The river frowns at low, gray skies 
 
 That only frown again ; 
 From sea slow waves of mist drift in. 
 
 Pale heralds of the rain. 
 
 My heart makes moan for treasures gone, 
 
 And cloud and shadow come, 
 Yet Faith shines clear, and Hope sings near. 
 
 And Love keeps flowers a-bloom. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 75 
 
 \A^AITING. 
 
 |M)JO the little brown twigs complain 
 That they haven't a leaf to wear ? 
 Does the grass, when the wind and rain 
 Pull at her matted hair ? 
 
 Do the little brooks struggle and moan 
 When the ice has frozen their feet ? 
 
 Does the moss turn gray as a stone, 
 Because of the cold and sleet ? 
 
 Do the buds that the leaves left bare 
 To strive with their wintry fate. 
 
 In a moment of deep despair, 
 Destroy what they cannot create ? 
 
 Oh, Nature is teaching us there 
 To patiently wait, and wait. 
 
76 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE WINDS' CALL. 
 
 §H, hurry and go! Oh, hurry and go!" 
 The wild winds say as the wild winds blow ; 
 For chill November comes bustling down, 
 With gray locks streaming, and cloudy frown. 
 "Go, go!" to the flowers that shivering stand 
 All shrunken and brown, a pitiful band. 
 "Go, go!" to all melodious things. 
 From grass-pent chirp to bird tliat sings. 
 "Oh, hurry and go!" to the leaves that fly 
 In crowds from airy homes on high ; 
 They huddle in heaps the hedges about, 
 But the winds drive on with anxious shout — 
 "Go cover loved graves; keep violets warm; 
 Flower-beds shelter from winter's harm; 
 There, there you may rest — oh, hurry and go! 
 And sleep to the soft 'Hush, hush ! ' of the snow. 
 It comes, it comes! It is on my track! 
 'Twill cover you warm till spring comes back!" 
 
 The leaves and flowers soon settled for rest, 
 And empty and still was every nest; 
 The upland grass grew matted and gray. 
 The fresh blades hid underneath away; 
 Slow insects, where banks southward look. 
 Half chilled, sought rest in favoring nook; 
 The world grew cold, deserted and still. 
 Save brown-birds' notes or song of a rill ; 
 And over it fell, ere came one even, 
 The wonderful white May-bloom of heaven. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 77 
 
 IN NOVEMBER. 
 
 *HERE'S one lone cricket singing 
 To the dead leaves huddled nigh, 
 
 A snow bird chanting, clinging 
 To a bare, brown twig just by. 
 
 The winds, through tree harps sweeping, 
 Wake mournful chords between. 
 
 For o'er earth, gray frosts creeping 
 Have stolen its flowers and green. 
 
 Thou, too, O heart, art keeping- 
 Sad thoughts of what has been. 
 
 But see, o'er all the wailing, 
 
 The lonely songs, and sad, 
 The gray the bright o'er veiling, 
 
 The lost that made earth glad. 
 The blue, bright heaven is bending 
 
 And all its brightness through 
 Speaks love divine, unending. 
 
 That yet shall spring renew; 
 That still, O heart, is blending 
 
 All wisely, best for you. 
 
78 AVAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 AN AUTUMN THOUGHT. 
 
 I'HROUGH mist of Ijarreii boughs the sun 
 Came streaming warmly down, and tree, 
 Past empty nest, past lonely tree, 
 And scanning these, thus thought would run 
 
 Not every tree a nest may own. 
 With songs to tune its glad leaves' play ; 
 Yet dance they on from happy May, 
 
 For all air thrills with Music's tone. 
 
 So may I, if from bard or bird 
 By fate compelled to dwell apart, 
 Know all their gladness in my heart ; 
 
 For earth with song is echo-stirred. ' 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 79 
 
 AT SUNSET. 
 
 ^m] I'r^ *^^® golden peace of sunset 
 
 Fades a day, calm, spotless, bright, 
 Kich in jewelled glow and radiance. 
 Born of winter's matchless white. 
 
 In the pink flush of the dawning 
 Opal fires unnumbered glowed, 
 
 Diamonds blazing in the noonday 
 Golden gems at evening showed. 
 
 Glittering chill in sunbeam's fervor, 
 Winter hath few days like this. 
 
 Still as beautiful at going 
 As at morning's roseate kiss. 
 
 Sweetest day of June ne'er truer 
 In its gladness, song and flowers 
 
 Told the wisdom, skill and loving, 
 Making fair this world of ours ; 
 
 Through each season strewing beauteous. 
 Peerless days, as this all fair. 
 
 Some with blooming sweet, some roses, 
 Some rich robed 'mid golden air. 
 
 Yet to all, though brightest, darkest. 
 
 Doth forever good belong; 
 Winter tells us in her silence 
 
 True as summer with her song ; 
 
 Tells, too, distant joys look dearer 
 
 Than the few we toil amid, 
 For 'tis winter shows us vistas 
 
 That the leaves of summer hid. 
 
80 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 AFTER THE SNOWING. 
 
 R'HE clouds are gone, the moon looks down. 
 The stars are bright; 
 The storm has laid a snowy crown 
 On peaceful night. 
 
 As former things were passed away, 
 
 All heavenly fair 
 Is earth in holiest array. 
 
 Meet place for prayer ! 
 
 Like priests slow waving snowy hands 
 
 In ministries, 
 Or waiting nuns in vestal bands, 
 
 Stand spectre trees. 
 
 God's temple! aye, 'tis holy ground! 
 
 Heaven's type is here! 
 And almost through the hush profound 
 
 His voice we fear. 
 
 O Nature ! hearts may flowers bear, 
 
 And fruits divine ; 
 But here no spotless robes may wear 
 
 Like unto thine. 
 
WAYHIDE WILDINGS. 81 
 
 THE ROSE BUSH. 
 
 'OLDED close and tenderly 
 
 Deep in the snow-drift's white, 
 
 Hides my precious rose to-day, 
 The summer's first delight. 
 
 Oh, so gently o'er her fell 
 
 Eich showers of purity, 
 Wrapping her all softly in. 
 
 No twig could bended be. 
 
 Bides she so till sunlight's gold 
 Shall weave the whiteness through. 
 
 Then 'mid summer's green she'll wear 
 Gold-hearted snows anew. 
 
82 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 IN THE SICK ROOM. 
 
 JhE moon her shining, silvery fleece 
 Wide o'er tlie river's breast lias lain; 
 The lighted bridge, a jewelled chain, 
 Midway its beauty spans, and peace. 
 
 There's naught astir save flashing star. 
 Or leafless bough, breeze-swaying slow, 
 My throbbing heart, with paining so, 
 
 And one lone footfall echoing far. 
 
 O heaven ! thy peace thought yearningly 
 Mounts up night's star-lit paths to gain. 
 But brings me back yet more of pain; 
 
 There is no part, no part for me. 
 
 O loved ! O sweet ! beside thee here, 
 I seem to see, close reaching down, 
 The Hand that gave thee to my own, 
 
 And hope yields place to shuddering fear. 
 
 What life would be from thee apart . 
 I dare not think. Oh, while I say, 
 Thy will be done, dear Lord, I'll pray 
 
 Forgive, forgive my pleading heart. 
 
WAYSIDE AVILDINGS, 
 
 THE REVIEW. 
 
 \ LITTLE maiden thoughtfully 
 '*■ Past lessons pondered o'er, 
 Some yet all fresh in memory, 
 Some half-forgotten lore. 
 
 Her thoughtful face wore loveliest hue. 
 And though no sound was heard, 
 
 With whispered words soft fluttering through, 
 Her lips like rose leaves stirred. 
 
 While yet the busy task went on, 
 
 And leaf on leaf was turned, 
 I thought, "They're few and sweet, dear one, 
 
 The lessons thou hast learned. 
 
 •'Mayhap a time will come when thou. 
 
 As I to-night have done. 
 Wilt read again, not then as now. 
 Life's lessons, one by one. 
 
 'God grant thou may'st not see, as I, 
 Some thou would' st fain forget; 
 
 Some learned with only sorrow nigh, 
 Some I have not learned yet. 
 
 'Oh, may the sweetest ones I've known 
 
 Be only given to thee ! 
 So to review when years have flown. 
 
 As now, as happily." 
 
84 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 CRUMBS. 
 
 *2l FEW waste, scattered crumbs may call 
 The best the winter hath of song, 
 To gladden weary hours and long, 
 Till sweeter lays down spring airs fall. 
 
 Each varied life God scatters o'er 
 With hopes all bright with heavenly rays, 
 With memories dear of olden days, 
 
 And pure affection's priceless store. 
 
 Yet all, the best we have, in turn. 
 Are crumbs of joy from bliss above; 
 Our songs, though weak, our thanks may prove, 
 
 Till sweeter ones we hear and learn. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 85 
 
 MIDSUMMER AFTERNOON. 
 
 ^\ OW Nature's resting time, noonday, 
 ^^ Is past; yet still no stir there seems 
 Of growin^^ things; hill, field, lake, shore, 
 Are veiled and hushed as shadowy dreams. 
 
 Yet drowsy cattle lingering mope 
 
 Where shadows nightward lengthening creep: 
 And weary wild flowers nod and droop, 
 
 Or fold down willing lids in sleep. 
 
 To rival songs no soft breeze floats 
 
 To song of young or parent bird ; 
 At anchor lie the fishers' boats. 
 
 By scarcely pulsing lake unstirred. 
 
 No more the water-lilies' stars 
 
 To eager quest invite the oar, 
 Or pushing past the sandy bars 
 
 Through pictured clouds to drift from shore. 
 
 What sweets arise from fields new mown, 
 Where yesterday gay mowers stood 
 
 Waist high in feathery grass, and down 
 Across the white, deep-sanded road, 
 
 The armies of the rye field stand 
 Ungarnered, girdled, plumeless, still, 
 
 As watchers o'er the silent land 
 
 Whose promising crowns vale and hill. 
 
 The brook hath stilled her babbling song, 
 
 Nor insect voices yet compete; 
 O sunny noonday! tarry long. 
 
 So peaceful, beautiful and sweet! 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 JEANNIE'S ANSWER. 
 
 > 
 
 you loved me once, fair Jeannie, 
 Love me now as then ; 
 I have come with heart and riches 
 Wooing you again." 
 
 ''Nay, I cannot, nay, I would not 
 Be your sweetheart now; 
 Heard you not to sailor Harry. 
 I have given my vow ? 
 
 "Brown his face is, hands are browner, 
 Firm his step, and right; 
 But his honest eyes and cheery, 
 They're my heart's delight. 
 
 "Soon he'll come from o'er the waters, 
 Soon we shall be wed ; 
 Ne'er like you he'll bring me sorrow, 
 Only joy instead. 
 
 "Butterflies mourn not the roses 
 Vanished with the June ; 
 Flitting birds where'er they wander 
 Sing the same sweet tune. 
 
 "Hie you far to fairer maidens. 
 All your sweethearts woo. 
 Better than your lands and riches 
 Is the heart that's true." 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 87 
 
 DAISIES. 
 
 ijH, the daisies! bright-eyed daisies! 
 
 All the byways crowded full ; 
 Haloed stars of summer shiniug. 
 Whether skies are bright or dull. 
 
 All in white and gold on valley, 
 Hillside, roadside, field and lane 
 
 Is their heavenly message written 
 Wide, for comforting again. 
 
 For we read once more His loving 
 Who doth note the sparrow's fall. 
 
 Who doth call in crowds the flowers. 
 Making room and place for all. 
 
 Sunlight, too, and shower bestowing. 
 Manna of the night's sweet dew; 
 
 Daisies ! faithful is your showing 
 God's rich promise true anew! 
 
88 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 kHADOWS, o'er my work at play, 
 ' Wave me answers while I say 
 This to you, ere dies the clay: 
 
 Writ in holy place, I see 
 
 Our days likened unto ye, 
 
 And would learn how this may be. 
 
 In the restless lot, you know. 
 Wafted as the breezes blow. 
 Hither, thither, to and fro ! 
 
 Dancing through the sunny days, 
 Happy while the brightness stays, — 
 Aye, aye, these are like our ways. 
 
 In your striving each past each. 
 Like our human strife, you teach 
 God's sure mark we ne'er o'erreach. 
 
 Truest growth would we olttain, 
 Nearest perfectness attain, 
 Clearest light each, all, must gain. 
 
 Shadows, from my work passed by, 
 Now^ upon the grass ye lie 
 In the sunset quietly. 
 
 Yet one solemn thought I'd bring. 
 Past earth's for your answering — 
 Shadows, ye are vanishing ! 
 
 Where ye played gloom enters in. 
 Twilight's gray veils all the scene. 
 And I know not where ye've been. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 ANSWERED. 
 
 JH, not on proudest hills God sets 
 
 His sweetest flowers, and first to come, 
 
 Arbutus shy, and violets, 
 In lowliest dale and wood-nook bloom. 
 
 Loud shaking morn's still air with songs. 
 Glad birds wake loneliest grove and glen. 
 
 Till echo wide the sound prolongs. 
 Though never listening ear to gain. 
 
 How ungemmed ripples dance and break, 
 
 On either side the golden way 
 The sunbeams tread, till all the lake 
 
 Is stirred as if in joyous play. 
 
 And plainly now, by thought of these. 
 Of shaded ripples, wild, lone song, 
 
 And lowly place, Faith, answered, sees 
 Some wearying wherefores, pondered long. 
 
90 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 LOVE tliee for thy smiling sun, 
 
 That on no flower looks clown, 
 Yet hopeful gleams and warmly lies 
 
 Along the hillsides brown. 
 I love thy pleading rains that fall 
 
 Like tears for songs grown still; 
 Thy silence, hushing Nature's sleep, 
 
 Save where a laughing rill 
 Runs rippling on in wanton play. 
 
 Like child unheeding loss ; 
 I love thy depths of calm, blue sky, 
 
 Thy clouds that fly across. 
 Thy wild winds tossing trees like toys, 
 
 Or whirling dead leaves by, 
 The richer glory of thy dawns, 
 
 Or pomp of sunset sky. 
 
 But far more, this — I could not so, 
 
 While summer's wealth was mine, 
 Count o'er the gifts her glad hours brought, 
 
 That Memory tells with thine ; 
 While o'er my thankful heart doth fall 
 
 Like benediction blest, 
 Thy Sabbath stillness, shadowing more 
 
 Than earth can give of rest. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 91 
 
 IN A FIELD. 
 
 jT seemed a sacred place, tli-e field 
 
 Where leafless rose trees stood 
 Half liid in snowy shrouds, and called 
 A sudden, reverent mood. 
 
 The whirling snow fell deep and fast 
 
 On beds where violets grew ; 
 And. lonely moaned the shivering blast; 
 
 Yet Faith read promise true. 
 
 As e'er had been, would come fair hours. 
 All sweetness, song and bloom; 
 
 So in that graveyard of the flowers 
 There was no place for gloom. 
 
 Then Thought went out, past hedging hill, 
 Where sleep 'neath Auburn's snows 
 
 My loved; nor questioned loving Will, 
 That wakes them, and the rose. 
 
92 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVK. 
 
 *HE house is liuslied ; each voice is still 
 
 That late in hopeful glee 
 Like music's merriest carols rang 
 
 About me joyously. 
 The Cristmas gifts completed lie, 
 
 Arranged with loving care, 
 Each in its place, with dear home name 
 
 Of cherished one placed there. 
 
 And as I sit with folded hands, 
 
 Awhile to muse and rest, 
 I cannot stay the tears that come, 
 
 Nor thoughts that stir my breast. 
 I think of eves like this, long gone. 
 
 And loved ones see again 
 Whose names with these once held dear place ; 
 
 We're fewer now than then. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 03 
 
 Some linger long who wandered out, 
 
 As birds from nest, to soar; 
 The dear old anchor of sweet home 
 
 Will draw them back no more. 
 Some, too, in hopeful rest grew still, 
 
 IS^or wakened here below ; 
 Their blessed joy Heaven's dawn to see, 
 
 And Hope's fruition know. 
 
 No more than autumn rains may call 
 
 The flowers back again— 
 Though tenderly they plead with all 
 
 The voices of the rain, 
 Can tears ne'er dried, or tenderest prayer 
 
 Win back one soft caress 
 From loved within the silent land— 
 
 ret come they not to bless ? 
 To-night will Memory tribute bring. 
 
 They seem so near, so near. 
 Though angel songs they're singing now, 
 
 I, listening, may not hear. 
 
94 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 LONGING. 
 
 ^ OT yet had earliest wild flower strewai 
 Unto the wooing, wandering breeze 
 Its tiny seed, whose mysteries 
 Another spring should first make known. 
 When last the violets in crowds 
 
 Came, purpling all the fair fields through, 
 
 When birds were glad from dawn till dew. 
 And brooks ran gayly through the woods, 
 One sunset hour, all pink and gold, 
 
 A voice grew still, I loved it well; 
 
 A hand from out my clasping fell, 
 And eyelids drooped to ne'er unfold. 
 
 Then Night and Death's chill mystery 
 Brought gloom and sorrow's keenest dart; 
 The morrows come, but grief hath part 
 
 In all, and ever haunteth me. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 95 
 
 While Cliristmas chimes to-night ring clear. 
 And happy homes glad meetings know, 
 Through eastern skies with stars aglow 
 
 With longing, tear-wet eyes, I peer. 
 
 Not, not to call her back anew 
 From heavenly places, restful, fair, 
 But oh, to see as pictured there 
 
 Such vision as once shepherds knew. 
 
 In that seraphic throng her face, 
 All glorified, I'd seek and know; 
 Then Christmastide would come and go, 
 
 And I heed not its loneliness... 
 
 Sweet hope ! some day such joy may be. 
 Her angel face so to behold. 
 Her beckoning hand again t' enfold. 
 
 And more than Christmas gladness see. 
 
96 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 THE NEW CHARM, 
 
 SHALL not watch the sweet, fair flowers 
 
 With careless or indifferent eye, 
 In glad processions saunter by, 
 Through summer's sun or bright-arched showers. 
 
 For I shall think an angel one, 
 Who found on earth best-loved employ 
 Among the flowers, and sweetest joy, 
 
 Has now her ideal mission won. 
 
 More now than then, her happy care 
 Our fading flowers will still enfold. 
 Though fadeless ones she may behold, 
 
 And heavenly fields bloom far more fair. 
 
 So every wilding by the way. 
 And shyest hermit of the wood, 
 . Because she loved and saw it good. 
 
 Will wear new charm in its array. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 97 
 
 TOKENS. 
 
 I^UT one pink shell from ocean's rim 
 i^ Was all we brought away, 
 
 When sunset's lights were growing dim 
 ALout one blissful day. 
 
 To tell of summer's flowery throngs, 
 Her woods and wayside bowers, 
 
 Her golden days, morns, eves, and songs, 
 These have I, these dead flowers. 
 
 A few days brighter than the rest, 
 
 A few o'erfuil with pain, — 
 These mark life's changes, saddest, best, 
 
 To memory again. 
 
 So small the tokens that may tell 
 Life's varying years passed o'er; 
 
 To conscious joy, yet flower and shell 
 One day shall speak no more. 
 
 What then shall be ? Will memory live, 
 Unclouded and more bright. 
 
 Till all our days like spectres give 
 Some sign in death's still night ? 
 
 So few days go without some stain, 
 
 How well soe'er we try! 
 Oh, must we read them o'er again, 
 
 While pale Remorse weeps nigh ? 
 
 Howe'er it be. Love, merciful, 
 
 Eternal doth abide; 
 His name is Love who all doth rule, 
 
 Oh, will He always chide ? 
 
98 WAYSIDE WILDIXGS. 
 
 PETITION. 
 
 j\j OT mine to frame a prayer, 
 
 Father ! to-nioht to be 
 Such prayer as when life's needs are e'er 
 
 The blest may offer Thee. 
 To come without one want, 
 
 Complaint or sin to bring. 
 Of noble deed, of victory won, 
 
 Triumphantly to sing. 
 In terms of loftiest praise 
 
 To pour out rapturous song; 
 Yet from my soulful gratitude, 
 
 I'll tell the countless throng 
 Of mercies that are mine, 
 
 To know, to have, to hold, 
 That more than manna fall to me. 
 
 Aye ! more an hundred fold. 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 99 
 
 Oh, grant this peace be mine, 
 
 For all the varied store, 
 To know content, nor restless yearn, 
 
 Anticipating more. 
 
 'Tis mine to count again 
 
 The missteps of the day. 
 To plead once more forgiving love. 
 
 That cheers the burdened way. 
 For strength to braver meet 
 
 To-morrow's strife and lure; 
 A heart with more of loving in. 
 
 More patience to endure. 
 For weakness, failure, tears, 
 
 Oh, tender pity give; 
 Help me above such bonds to rise, 
 
 A nobler life to live. 
 So full my prayer of need; 
 
 Yet more for this I pray. 
 The consciousness of Thy near love 
 
 Wherever leads my way. 
 
100 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 AT MORNING. 
 
 'IS peace of morning tAviliglit; 
 
 Before me lies a day. 
 Begun in cloudless beauty, 
 
 Along a peaceful way. 
 So fair a gift the Father 
 
 Hath given unto me ; 
 So pure a gift, I tremble 
 
 Lest it should sullied be. 
 
 As past its rosy portals 
 
 My feet may onward go, 
 What it shall bring ere nightfall 
 
 I'm glad I do not know. 
 If sorrow or if singing 
 
 Shall speed or stay the hours ; 
 If frowns shall chill, or smiling 
 
 Bring cheer like Maytime flowers. 
 
 What fierce and unwon battles 
 
 My soul shall wage alone, 
 If those I love the dearest 
 
 At eventide be gone ! 
 If ere the sunset curtains 
 
 With glory all the west, 
 I hear the waited summons 
 
 From out the land of rest. 
 Or if I yet shall linger 
 
 In this dear world, so fair, 
 I ask not; but that peace like this 
 
 May wait me here or there ! 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 101 
 
 A SUMMER SONG. 
 
 m 
 
 EAUTIFUL the summer hills, 
 
 Pearly tints that cover, 
 Valleys white with daisies' frills 
 Set among the clover ; 
 Lilies starring waters fair, 
 Flowers, flowers everywhere. 
 Grold of buttercup the bee 
 Counts, the miser-rover; 
 All the roses in him see 
 But a fickle lover. 
 
 Beautiful the grand old trees, 
 
 Sunlight sifting over; . 
 Trilling out their rippling glees, 
 
 Happy birds there hover. 
 Can this be a world for care ? 
 Singing, singing everywhere. 
 Restful shades from toil invite, 
 
 Fair, soft skies lean over; 
 Summer ! hasten not thy flight ! 
 
 Every soul 's thy lover. 
 
102 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 IITIDEX:. 
 
 Spring Is Cobiing, 3 
 
 Violet, 4 
 
 Little Hands, 5 
 
 Baby's Feet, 6 
 
 Baby's Bath, 7 
 
 Baby's Lesson, 8 
 
 Three Years Old, 9 
 
 Robin and Canary (In the Spring), .... 10 
 
 Robin and Canary (Sequel), 11 
 
 The Bee and Maiden, 12 
 
 Kitty and Spring-Time, 13 
 
 At Play, 14 
 
 The Little Green Leaf, 15 
 
 Pussy Willow, 16 
 
 Bessie's Thoughts, 17 
 
 The Two Roses, 18 
 
 To Nellie, . 19 
 
 Going to the Party, 20 
 
 Cleaning the Stove, 21 
 
 The Raindrops' Call, 22 
 
 Easter, 23 
 
 The Sun-Ray, '24 
 
 Bess at Cousin Will's, ....... 25 
 
 In the Field, .26 
 
 The Bkst, 27 
 
 Baby and 1 28 
 
 A Bird-Story, 29 
 
 The Dead Playmate, 30 
 
 To A Cricket, 31 
 
WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 103 
 
 Calling, 
 
 32-33 
 
 The Two Dolls, 
 
 . 34 
 
 Under the Apple-Tree, 
 
 . 35 
 
 The Little Leaf, 
 
 . 36 
 
 The Wish-Bone, 
 
 . 37 
 
 Coasting, 
 
 . . 38 
 
 Winter Birds, 
 
 . 39 
 
 The Christmas Tree, 
 
 . 40 
 
 Seeking Sunshine, 
 
 . 41 
 
 A Song of Spring, 
 
 . 42 
 
 Calling the Flowers, 
 
 . 43 
 
 In the Garden, 
 
 . 44 
 
 Maying, 
 
 . 45 
 
 A Prophecy, 
 
 .46 
 
 May, 
 
 . 47 
 
 Edie, 
 
 . 48 
 
 At Home, 
 
 . 49 
 
 The Morning Breeze, 
 
 . 50 
 
 For All, 
 
 . 51 
 
 A Morning Thought, 
 
 . 52 
 
 A Song, 
 
 . 53 
 
 The Lily's Gem, 
 
 . 54 
 
 June, 
 
 . 55 
 
 The New Strife, 56 
 
 Guided, 57 
 
 The Secret, ..,,...... 53 
 
 A June Night, 59 
 
 A Lullaby, 60 
 
 To a Cricket, 61 
 
 Thou God Seest Me, 62 
 
 Summer Going, 63 
 
 Good Night, . 64 
 
 Climbing, 65 
 
 In September, 66-67 
 
 Time to Go, 68 
 
 The Flight, 69 
 
 My Realm, 7O-71 
 
 Falling Leaves, 72 
 
 The Fleeing Birds, ......... 73 
 
104 
 
 WAYSIDE WILDINGS. 
 
 Dreary, . 
 
 Waiting, 
 
 The Winds' Call, 
 
 In November, 
 
 An Autumn Thought, 
 
 At Sunset, 
 
 After the Snowing, 
 
 The Rose Bush, . 
 
 In the Sick Room, 
 
 The Review, 
 
 Crumbs, . 
 
 Midsummer Afternoon, 
 
 Jeannie's Answer, 
 
 Daisies, . 
 
 Shadows, 
 
 Answered, 
 
 November, 
 
 In a Field, . 
 
 Christmas Eve, 
 
 Longing, 
 
 The New Charm, 
 
 Tokens, . 
 
 Petition, 
 
 At Morning, 
 
 A Summer Song, 
 
 90 
 91 
 92-93 
 94-95 
 . 96 
 . 97 
 98-99 
 . 100 
 . 101 
 
 Somerville Journal Print. 
 
 W13 
 

 
 
 
 
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