LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap Copyright No 
 
 Shelf, _ Ail, •■ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
WUwcLTCJb cJcu/ ^2^ 
 
HIOU TENAS IKTAH 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD JAY ALLEN 
 
 CAMBRIDGE 
 
 MDCCCC 
 
93051 
 
 Library of Concrresa 
 
 Two CoptEs Received 
 DEC 24 1900 
 
 ft. Copyright wtfY 
 
 SECOND COPY 
 Oe(iverod to 
 
 OHDER DIVISION 
 
 JAN 10 1901 
 
 ^\o^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY EDWARD JAY ALLEN 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
TO 
 
 THE DEAREST LITTLE WOMAN 
 IN THE WORLD 
 
HIOU TENAS IKTAH 
 
 This Chinook title ("A Lot of Trifles ") is de- 
 scriptive of the contents of this volume. Cer- 
 tainly if they depended upon their merits for pub- 
 lication they would never have known print. They 
 are published for a very few, and will be in pos- 
 session only of those whose regard for the writer 
 will disarm just criticism. 
 
 To say that the raison d'etre of their publica- 
 tion was deference to the earnest desire of those 
 nearest and dearest to me, is probably only to 
 offer a new proof that mankind has not changed 
 greatly since the too willing Adam palliated his 
 offense by urging, " The woman tempted me 
 and I did eat." 
 
 E. J. A. 
 
 " Edgehill," October, 1900. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 WRITTEN ON MISS GUSSIE'S FAN 7 
 
 TO A. S., ACCOMPANIED BY A BASKET OF THORN 
 
 BURRS 8 
 
 ON THE FLY-LEAF OF EDNA's DIARY WHEN A 
 
 CHILD . 9 
 
 TO MY DAUGHTER MAY (EASTER MORNING, "EDGE- 
 HILL ") lO 
 
 TWILIGHT II 
 
 IN MEMORIAM I3 
 
 AT CHURCH 15 
 
 ABSENT 17 
 
 DRIFTING 18 
 
 THE GOLDEN WEDDING 20 
 
 WRITTEN FOR COUSIN JOHN'S WOODEN WEDDING . 2$ 
 
 TO MR. AND MRS. S. S. C 27 
 
 ANTE BELLUM 29 
 
 IN ARMIS 32 
 
 SIGEL 35 
 
 GARFIELD, 1881 37 
 
 AD CCELUM 39 
 
 "FALL in!" COMRADES 41 
 
 THE VETERAN 46 
 
 GETTYSBURG — THIRTY YEARS AFTER ..... 49 
 
 OLD STEAMBOAT DAYS SI 
 
 SET TO MUSIC 53 
 
 THE OLDEN TIME 55 
 
 KATHLEEN O'MORE S7 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 THE OLD PLAYGROUND 59 
 
 UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER 60 
 
 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 63 
 
 IN CALLOW DAYS 93 
 
 MUSIC 95 
 
 THE STOMACH-ACHE 97 
 
 TO BROTHER GEORGE 99 
 
 BURIAL PRAYER lOI 
 
 TO BROTHER WILLIAM IO3 
 
 TO SISTER ELIZABETH IO5 
 
 REPLY OF COLONEL EDWARD JAY ALLEN . . .110 
 
HIOU TENAS IKTAH 
 
WRITTEN ON MISS GUSSIE'S FAN 
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LEAVING HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS 
 
 Music's fair self doth bid us all good-by, 
 And we remain where lingering tones yet tell 
 In dying cadence of the dear hours gone, 
 And of the dear friend bidding us farewell. 
 
 Yet speed thee on thy joyous homeward way, 
 For kind friends there stand hopeful at the gate ; 
 But yet look back and hope life ever may 
 As now, where friends are left, show friends that 
 wait. 
 
 And when fate brings, as certainly it will, 
 The one to whom all else is naught beside, 
 May after years be all as full of hope 
 As filled the heart of the expectant bride. 
 (7) 
 
TO A. S., ACCOMPANIED BY A BASKET OF 
 THORN BURRS 
 
 Through Life's journey, bright or drear, 
 Many thorns Hke these are seen ; 
 Through Life's desert there and here 
 Are isles of flowers, and thorns between. 
 
 Mischance will teach, though dearly bought. 
 To 'scape the thorn, yet pluck the flower, 
 By guarding 'gainst dark afterthought 
 While we enjoy the present hour. 
 
 Pray God that you may never rue 
 The thistles keen of nettles sown ; 
 • Be these the only thorns that you 
 May ever own. 
 
 (8) 
 
ON THE FLY-LEAF OF EDNA'S DIARY 
 WHEN A CHILD 
 
 Bear record on thy stainless leaves 
 
 Of stainless youth and early spring, 
 
 With all the thoughts the springtime weaves, 
 
 And all its glad, sweet blossoming. 
 
 O tender thoughts, O loving years. 
 The bright earth brings its fruits and wine ; 
 And reaches out, in smiles and tears, 
 To all the glow of summertime. 
 
 O radiant Youth, the circling suns, 
 That sweep the dewy morns away. 
 But promise, when the twilight comes, 
 The sunshine of another day. 
 
 O glorious hope, O faith sublime. 
 That lives beyond our childish years ! 
 For trusting still, this harvest time, 
 We cast aside our trembling fears. 
 
 And know that when the coming night 
 From earthly hope all ties shall sever, 
 A brighter sun, with glorious light. 
 Shall shine upon our lives forever. 
 (9) 
 
TO MY DAUGHTER MAY (EASTER MORN- 
 ING, " EDGEHILL ") 
 
 Amid the bloom of early spring, 
 In April smiles and April tears, 
 The little maiden came to bring 
 Surcease from all our loving fears. 
 
 The orchard blooms have come and gone, 
 And fleeting years, with eager feet, 
 Have borne the little maiden on 
 Where womanhood and girlhood meet. 
 
 But in this joyous Easter-time 
 We pluck the blossoms from the peach. 
 And, dreaming of the days lang syne, 
 Forget the years beyond our reach. 
 
 In loving thought of earlier days, 
 In loving thought of years between, 
 We give again the orchard sprays 
 To " Little Blossom," sweet sixteen. 
 
 (10) 
 
TWILIGHT 
 
 Silent within is the empty room, 
 Solemn without is the darkening moor ; 
 A dreary void in my heart to-night, 
 Sitting alone in the open door. 
 
 The darkening shadows flit over the plain, 
 The bleak, gray sky closes down on the lea ; 
 Memory wakens her sorrows again. 
 Night and sadness companion me. 
 
 A funeral train in the heart to-night, 
 
 Ah, hopes that are lost ! ah, friends that are 
 
 gone ! 
 Ah, hours that are fled ! so gayly sped, 
 In fair lands under the western sun. 
 
 Shadows without and shadows within, 
 Shadows that stretch from the far blue sea ; 
 Trooping like spectres, weird and dim. 
 All the sad years come back to me. 
 
 Silently glides my wife to my side, 
 Beaming with love are her gentle eyes, 
 Softly her dear hand, pressing mine. 
 Gladdens my soul with a sweet surprise. 
 (II) 
 
12 TWILIGHT 
 
 Close, close to my heart ! The shadows depart, 
 Serene the moon rises over the plain ; 
 The dead years are dust, and love's gentle trust 
 Is mine, and I face the bleak world again. 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 Press onward in the path of life, 
 We scarce may linger here to weep. 
 Press forward to the daily strife, 
 The while our tears run deep. 
 The old, old grief ! some time the sun 
 Shines sadly down on every one. 
 
 The old, old grief ! So fair, so young, 
 No words have said, no song has sung, 
 Such grace as his. The sun is dim ; 
 Its wistful light shines down on him 
 Shrouded beneath the winter snow, 
 Dead, and ah ! we loved him so. 
 
 A bitter world. We fain would weep, 
 And yet we cannot think him dead ; 
 This death is but a sadder sleep. 
 O eyes of love, O fair young head, 
 O restless feet ! Still in the clay 
 We loved him so, — but yesterday. 
 
 Only one longing, eager gaze 
 Into the world so fair to see, 
 (13) 
 
14 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 One eager look — his summer days 
 Lapsed to their quiet close, and he, 
 Upon the threshold of his years, 
 His burden laid of hopes and fears. 
 
 The old, old grief ! how old a grief ! 
 Our sorrow seems as yet so near, 
 It seems almost beyond belief 
 That he is gone, and we are here. 
 His cap lies there, his book half read ; 
 We cannot — cannot — think him dead. 
 
 Speed, Time, your flight, and bear us on ; 
 He cannot stoop, but we may rise 
 To wing our flight where he has gone 
 Beyond our grief, beyond our sighs. 
 Press onward, for the path he trod 
 Shall lead us, also, up to God. 
 
AT CHURCH 
 
 The grand old hymn was pealing down the 
 
 aisles 
 The melody that thro' the centuries dim 
 Gave hope and comfort to the faint and worn, 
 With earnest praise and prayerful hope in Him 
 Who died that weary ones immortal rest might 
 
 win. 
 
 His gray hair drooped upon his folded palms, 
 The aged pastor knelt within the altar place. 
 And as the waves of music, murmuring, ceased. 
 Sent up his quavering plaint for Heaven's grace, 
 As one who knoweth God is with him, face to 
 face. 
 
 So kneeled and prayed the men of ages gone, 
 With faith that soared to the Eternal's throne, 
 And gave to tender hope assurance clear ; 
 Their tones down through the centuries come. 
 And yet I hear the aged pastor's voice alone. 
 
 O simple faith ! O earnest soul and true ! 
 Thy words seem music echoing from the shore, 
 (IS) 
 
i6 AT CHURCH 
 
 Whose golden sands and gleaming waters woo 
 The footprints of the godlike men of yore, 
 Whose ringing words shall echo through the 
 ages evermore. 
 
 The plaint thrills thro' me like a yearning pain, 
 And prisoned prayer doth throb my heart within ; 
 I cannot breathe the pleading, tho' full fain. 
 And yet I know that loving angel kin 
 Would bear the words to Heaven, could I but 
 utter them. 
 
ABSENT 
 
 Absent, yet thou art here ; 
 
 What though the weary leagues divide ? 
 
 Press close, ah, closer to my side ! 
 
 I feel the magic of thy love to-night 
 
 Pulsing across the shadow and the light ; 
 
 Nearer, my love, more near ! 
 
 Still linger, gentle hours. 
 And smile upon the ebbing care and gloom ; 
 The glow of hope and home is in the room ; 
 Within its light I walk with pride. 
 Loving and loved, for she is by my side 
 Strewing the way with flowers. 
 
 Ah, Sweet, thy tender hand 
 Hath led, when failed the schoolman's lore. 
 The Love that, scorning time and space, can soar 
 Beyond their bounds, hath life beyond the earth. 
 Enshrine me in thy heart, and lead me forth 
 Into the Unknown Land. 
 (17) 
 
DRIFTING 
 
 The bygone years are with the dead ; 
 Peace to the past ; but overhead 
 The summer sun shines warm and fair 
 And gilds fond hope with golden beam ; 
 And mellow murmurs 'round our boat 
 With raptures thrill the radiant air, 
 As idly down the stream we float, 
 And dream, and dream. 
 
 My love and I, the world is old ; 
 In ages past have hearts grown cold ; 
 Above the wrecks so darkly gleamed 
 The tide which now so fair doth seem. 
 Bright faces gone, that fondly deemed 
 The world was fair and lovers true. 
 And drifted on, as I with you, 
 And dreamed, and dreamed. 
 
 My love and I, the world is young. 
 
 Though wrecks drift by where hopes have clung ; 
 
 My love and I, true heart of mine, 
 
 The listening winds may sigh and deem 
 
 Our hearts, like those who loved before, 
 
 (i8) 
 
DRIFTING 19 
 
 May sink beneath the tides of time ; 
 But side by side, thy hand in mine, 
 We dream, and dream. 
 
 The world is old, the world is young ; 
 In ages past sweet words were sung ; 
 The melody adown the years 
 Has floated on the murmuring stream. 
 The loves of old are on the tide. 
 Their glorious hopes, their gentle fears, 
 My love and I ; cling to my side, 
 And dream, and dream. 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 TO H. W. O., JR. 
 
 O WINDS of March, breathe soft and low 
 The promises of early spring, 
 And hopes of fifty years ago, 
 When merry marriage bells did ring. 
 And thrilling through the balmy air 
 Went echoing down the happy days, 
 In music for the wedded pair 
 And cheer for all the pleasant ways. 
 
 Sweet memories of youth and love, 
 
 When March snowed daisies o'er the land, 
 
 And vernal skies were fair above, 
 
 And Spring and Hope went hand in hand ! 
 
 Into our heart of hearts to-night 
 
 Come wedding guests. Sweet welcome here 
 
 As in that time of dear delight 
 
 And solemn vows, gone fifty year. 
 
 All good friends, welcome ! Time speeds on, 
 But love shall never find an end ; 
 Though spring has faded, summer gone. 
 In peace our autumn days we spend. 
 
 (20) 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 21 
 
 Thank God, we 're clasped hand in hand, 
 'Mid cares that every one must know, 
 As when the sunshine decked the land 
 That springtime, fifty years ago. 
 
 Though far the isle across the sea. 
 And wild waves roll the waste between, 
 To-night the leagues are naught, and we 
 Are looking on the meadows green. 
 The robin's song is sweet and clear. 
 In hedgerows where the timid hare 
 Shrinks close to catch, with listening ear, 
 The signal from the sentinel air. 
 
 And hopes and dreams of years to come, 
 And tender thoughts fill all the days. 
 Ah, wife ! God bless the dear old home ; 
 Though absent from familiar ways. 
 To-night our youth again comes back, 
 In memory of the scenes so dear. 
 And full across the ocean track 
 Sweeps the strong tide of fifty year. 
 
 God bless the new home ! Bless the land 
 That cheers the guest from every shore. 
 And stretches out an eager hand 
 And opens wide the friendly door. 
 Where he who sows may harvest in. 
 Where he who toils may rest, or when 
 
22 THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 He strives, the highest goal may win ; 
 God bless the land of equal men ! 
 
 Aye, He has blessed it ; never yet 
 In centuries hath such glory been ; 
 On nations old the sun may set. 
 And still this glowing light be seen. 
 Through ages shall this banner wave, 
 Through ages shall its radiance be 
 A guide for loyal men and brave, 
 A beacon till the world be free. 
 
 Give praise to whom our thanks are due ; 
 Good wife, the years have kindly been. 
 Blessings have crowned the old home and the 
 
 new ; 
 In olden days we little dreamed, I ween. 
 Of all these sturdy children at our knees ; 
 Humble thanks for all, for all our store. 
 For Indian-summer days and hours of ease. 
 And most, that all are gathered here once more. 
 
 A wistful eye ? Ah, yes, the mother's heart. 
 Where once the baby fingers soft have pressed. 
 Will aye throb to the thought, can never part 
 With earliest love. O loving breast, 
 While I was dreaming the old dreams again 
 Of early springtime when we first were wed, 
 The mother-love was feeling the old pain 
 For bright eyes dim, and daisies overhead. 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING 23 
 
 Thank God for all, for tender thought, 
 For present good. All things are well ; 
 For all things the dear Lord hath wrought, 
 Who can His wisdom doubt, His mercy tell ? 
 To us He gave the earth ; cling hand in hand. 
 For love 's eternal, and with dear ones gone. 
 Abides forever in the better land 
 To which through fifty years we 're pressing on. 
 
 So, gather 'round the hearth to-night, 
 Make this with joy and festive cheer. 
 And kindly thought, and faces bright, 
 The happiest night of all the year. 
 And would that over seas so drear 
 March winds could bear a message kind, 
 Of greeting from our circle here 
 For those we loved and left behind. 
 
 What though our heads are silvered o'er 
 With frosts that tell of winter snow. 
 What though the summers nevermore 
 Shall shine like summers long ago .-' 
 We care not, so within our eyes 
 Shines dear and pure the olden light, 
 And still our wedded life we prize. 
 As in those days of dear delight. 
 
 The springs shall lose their tender green, 
 The summer roses fade and fall, 
 The painted autumns dim their sheen, 
 
24 THE GOLDEN WEDDING 
 
 And winter frost reign over all ; 
 But love beyond the lapse of time 
 Shall live in purity and truth 
 Forever in a heavenly clime, 
 Immortal in immortal youth. 
 
 O fifty years of joy and grief ! 
 O fifty years, within whose pale 
 No moment found an unbelief, 
 No moment saw affection fail ! 
 O heart so strong ! O heart so true ! 
 My refuge in all doubts and fears, 
 To-night I pledge my love anew, 
 O golden bride of fifty years J 
 
WRITTEN FOR COUSIN JOHN'S WOODEN 
 WEDDING 
 
 Hearty welcome to-night, good friends, one and 
 all, 
 
 God bless us ; to-night we '11 be merry together ; 
 
 Hand to hand — heart to heart — whatever be- 
 fall. 
 
 Where true love is present, there 's ever fair 
 weather. 
 
 There are clouds, as we know, the dear wife and I, 
 And storms in our life, they come and they go ; 
 But love, like a sun, clears up the dark sky. 
 And we learn that life's lesson is patience; 
 and so 
 
 If I 've learned that the angel I wooed was a 
 woman. 
 
 Why, better for me, God bless the dear wife ; 
 
 If she learned that her hero, alas ! was but hu- 
 man. 
 
 The better for both, — we 've a happier life. 
 
 Babies ? Yes, three of them, plump as you see, 
 Healthy and bright, from the toddler down 
 
 (25) 
 
26 JOHN'S WOODEN WEDDING 
 
 To the cherub that croons on his mother's knee. 
 It seems a most wonderful thing to me 
 
 How patient a mother will be with her child ; 
 Could the angels be any more tender and true ? 
 Ah ! friends, the Mother is dearer to me 
 Than any weak dream of youth that I knew. 
 
 So we 're happy to-night, and we bid you good- 
 cheer, 
 
 For, husband and children and wife altogether, 
 
 We 're happier far because you are here ; 
 
 With friendship and love there is always fair 
 weather. 
 
TO MR. AND MRS. S. S. C. 
 
 ON THE SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR MARRIAGE 
 
 Draw both the oaken shutters near, 
 Draw down the curtain-folds of snow, 
 And let the light from chandelier 
 Reflect the firelight's golden glow, 
 
 Till shadows dim, with lingering feet 
 Flit out into the darkening night, 
 And, sighing down the weary street. 
 Leave hope and joy and radiance bright. 
 
 Shut out all thoughts of winter drear ; 
 Shut out the moaning, chilling wind ; 
 And grouped about the fireside here, 
 All precious thoughts and fancies find. 
 
 Sweet peace, drop down like gentle rain 
 Thy blessings on this bridal day, 
 Which fleeting time has brought again. 
 While Love strewed roses on the way. 
 
 Seven circling years, O robber Time, 
 Though swept into the eternal past. 
 Their memory, like church-bell chime. 
 Shall echo sweetly to the last. 
 (27) 
 
28 TO MR. AND MRS. S. S. C. 
 
 O coming years, bring flowers to greet 
 This twain, who, clasping hand in hand, 
 Go forth in faith thy steps to meet, 
 While Time shakes down his golden sand. 
 
 One, self-reliant, earnest, still, 
 One seeking others' good alone. 
 Both acting with a common will, 
 God's blessing on their pleasant home ! 
 
 Throw back the oaken shutters wide, 
 Open the curtain-folds of snow ; 
 Shine out upon the bleak wayside 
 The gleaming, golden firelight's glow. 
 
 Haply the weary passer-by. 
 Cheered by the rays of ruddy light. 
 Shall linger by the window nigh, 
 And bless the homelit radiance bright. 
 
 A token blest, for who may say 
 How many hearts have known new cheer. 
 Because she shone upon their way, 
 Who bids us joyful welcome here. 
 
 May all their wishes join with ours, 
 And make this house their loving throne. 
 And strew the coming years with flowers, 
 And bring God's blessing on this home. 
 
ANTE BELLUM 
 1852 
 
 WHAT THE DREAMER SAID TO THE SOUTH WIND 
 
 O SWEET South Wind, blow o'er me thy sooth- 
 ing summer air ; 
 
 In thy slumberous, murmuring music, let me 
 drowse away my care ; 
 
 Let me dream the dreams of youth as once I did 
 of yore; 
 
 Bring me visions of the springtime, of the days 
 that are no more. 
 
 Ah, gentle wind, why ask we for more than life 
 
 like this ? 
 What more to have, what more to hope, what more 
 
 has earth of bliss ? 
 Why reck we of the future ? Let the hours glide 
 
 on their way ; 
 Let the morrow bear its burden ; enough for us, 
 
 to-day. 
 
 The prodigal magnolia has scattered incense rare. 
 The scent of fragrant orange groves is in the odor- 
 ous air, 
 
 {29) 
 
30 ANTE BELLUM 
 
 And rippling tides on crescent shores, and billows 
 on the sea; 
 
 O balmy southern wind, that brings these mur- 
 murs unto me ! 
 
 Sweet music is thy murmuring, and yet me- 
 thinks I dream 
 
 An undertone of sadness floats upon thy rhyth- 
 mic stream. 
 
 Bring joyous strains, and banish all trace of pain 
 and sorrow ; 
 
 Said I not, I live to-day, and reck not of the mor- 
 row ? 
 
 Why tell of bleeding bondsmen ? Do you deem it 
 
 well that I 
 In the hearing, lose the beauty of this glorious 
 
 summer! sky ? 
 Why wilt thou hear their plaining, curs6d with 
 
 the curse of Cain, 
 Marked by God as beasts of burden, worthy only 
 
 of the chain ? 
 
 Let them suffer and not murmur, O gentle 
 
 southern breeze ; 
 Bear not upon thy pinions the plaint of such as 
 
 these ; 
 Bring me only odors, sensuous, dreamy, of the 
 
 southern clime. 
 
ANTE BELLUM 31 
 
 So I drowse in thy embracing and forget the 
 lapse of time. 
 
 Shall I bear my brother's burden ? In the wis- 
 dom of God's plan, 
 
 If he now is alien, outcast, bondsman to his fel- 
 low man. 
 
 Why should I reck ? To-day he, patient, bears 
 the rod ; 
 
 To-morrow, if his wrong be foul, the right will 
 come from God. 
 
 Then gentle wind, enwrap me within thy sweet 
 
 embrace ; 
 Sing only of the orange blooms and summer's 
 
 sunny grace ; 
 Lost in thy soothing music, the hours go drifting 
 
 by 
 As idly as the fleecy clouds across the azure sky. 
 
IN ARMIS 
 1862 
 
 WHAT THE SOUTH WIND SAID TO THE DREAMER 
 
 Again I hear the South Wind sweep o'er our 
 
 Northern line ; 
 Arise, and hark the surging, O dreaming soul of 
 
 mine ! 
 Sobbing and sighing in the gusts and with the 
 
 roll of drums, 
 And battle shout, and cannon roar, and shriek of 
 
 shell, it comes. 
 
 And dying groan, and triumph cheer, and clash 
 
 of bayonet. 
 With bugle call, and tramp of horse in deadly 
 
 combat met. 
 And crash of arms. The lull of strife, — again 
 
 the dropping shot, 
 O God ! what horror in the air ! Is this the peace 
 
 I sought ? 
 
 And high above these thunder sounds, a starv- 
 ing, wailing moan 
 
 Thrills through my heart ; a chilling fear sways 
 me at every tone ; 
 (32) 
 
IN ARMIS 33 
 
 O constant wind, that still doth bear the bonds- 
 man's plaints to me, 
 
 How sadder in these war's alarms than erst they 
 seemed to be. 
 
 List ! List ! Great God ! Not Afric's sons' but 
 
 kindred's voice it seems, 
 Starving, and we stand idle here ! Awake we 
 
 from our dreams ! 
 Rush to your arms, — rise, freemen all ! myself 
 
 will lead the van ; 
 March ye onward to the rescue, press ye forward, 
 
 every man ! 
 
 Stay, dreamer under summer skies. Not yours 
 
 to lead the line ; 
 To light the path to freedom needs a purer hand 
 
 than thine ; 
 Thou couldst listen to the bondsman as he wept 
 
 beneath the rod ; 
 Thy kindred are not kindred, more than these are, 
 
 unto God. 
 
 Thou couldst prate of God's ordaining, bid him, 
 
 patient, bear his fate ; 
 Drowse now in the summer sunshine. Do thou 
 
 God's patience wait ; 
 Fool ! when thou knew heaven's portals ope to 
 
 men of every clime. 
 
34 IN ARMIS 
 
 Thou couldst waste thy life in scorning — Is his 
 future not as thine ? 
 
 Humbly I hear. O weak ! O blind ! — that 
 could not dimly see 
 
 The wrong I did not strive to right was wrong 
 done unto me. 
 
 The chains that bound their slaves of yore our 
 brethren bind to-day ; 
 
 Mine own hands helped the forging — what sad- 
 der can I say ? 
 
 Arise, take up thine arms ; thou, too, art worthy 
 
 of the fight. 
 The land shakes with an armed tread, Humility 
 
 is Might. 
 Fall into line. Ho ! sweep along, loose every 
 
 clanking chain ; 
 All men are kindred, — make them free, and leave 
 
 to God the gain. 
 
 What though your legions yesterday were well- 
 nigh forced to yield .-* 
 
 Shout the battle cry of freedom ; lo ! God is in 
 the field. 
 
 Burst open every prison gate. The glorious sun 
 to-day 
 
 Shines on your arms victorious — Jehovah leads 
 the way. 
 
SIGEL 
 
 V 
 
 Hark to the battle cry ! 
 Hark to the deep-mouthed cannon's roar, 
 Beside the river's brink ; from shore to shore 
 The echoes sweep the mountain crags along ; 
 Potomac's classic tide, Kanawha's stream 
 Take up and thunder back the echoing song. 
 The rebel soldier wakens from his dream 
 And trembles, as the mountains o'er and o'er 
 Shout " Sigel ! Sigel in the field once more ! " 
 
 Grand old Missouri hears the sound, 
 
 And hstening by the Mississippi's brim 
 
 She, too, exultant, shouts the praise of him 
 
 Who on her southern borderland 
 
 Met and hurled back the locust band 
 
 That ravaged her fair fields. Once more, 
 
 O brave, stretch forth thy warlike hand to save. 
 
 Missouri's plains now echo to thy glory ; 
 
 Virginia's mountains shall repeat the story. 
 
 Hail to thee, German Land ! 
 And thou, O children of the sunny Rhine ! 
 Whose blood in freedom's cause has flowed like 
 wine; 
 
 (35) 
 
36 SIGEL 
 
 To thee all hail ! Once more upon the field 
 Thy chosen chief his battle brand will wield. 
 Nor thou alone may'st throb with patriot pride ; 
 We proudly in the strife stand by thy side, 
 And battle hand in hand. 
 
GARFIELD, 1881 
 
 Le roi est mort 
 
 " Earth's highest station ends in ' Here he lies,' 
 And ' Dust to dust ' concludes her noblest song." 
 
 Sweep in, wild waves, upon the shore, 
 With sobbing gusts die on the strand ; 
 Thy music cheereth nevermore 
 The loved of all this loving land. 
 Call back thy spirits of the mist 
 That strove, thro' all the solemn night, 
 To spread their silvery robes and veil 
 This sorrow from the morning light, 
 
 And wept before the questioning sun 
 That rent the fleecy robes away. 
 And arrowy gleams sent blazoning down 
 To where the Nation's Martyr lay. 
 
 Fade, mist, and fall in gentle dew, 
 As falls the teardrops from our eyes ; 
 Shine, sun, upon the face so true ; 
 Light up the life so pure and wise. 
 (37) 
 
38 GARFIELD, 1881 
 
 O scholar, learned in worldly lore ; 
 O soldier, born to take command ; 
 O statesman, in whose brain this store 
 Of gifts wrought wonders for the land ! 
 
 O heart, so ready to endure ; 
 
 O heart, so tender yet so true ; 
 
 O dauntless courage, true and pure ; 
 
 O patient faith, 'mid scoff and wrong ! 
 
 Thanks, kindly Death ; the wordy strife, 
 And arrows barbed of contests keen — 
 The earnests of an earnest life, 
 Have faded from this face serene. 
 
 Dead, dead ! O calm, cold face ! 
 We see it through our blinding tears. 
 All passionless, sealed with the grace 
 And promise of the eternal years. 
 
 Sweep in, wild waves, upon the shore. 
 In requiem die upon the strand. 
 And sing of him for evermore. 
 The loved of all this loving land. 
 
AD CCELUM 
 
 GARFIELD, 1 88 1 
 
 Upward, beyond the thrall of earth, to realms of 
 
 light. 
 The spirit, freed from mortal taint, quick sped 
 
 its flight ; 
 Fame rose on swifter wing, and at Heaven's 
 
 gate. 
 Sang the triumphant song of him who dies 
 Crowned with the proudest honors of the state, 
 And laurel-wreathed, as having won earth's great- 
 est prize. 
 
 Swelling in great melodious chords, the music 
 
 swept 
 Up to the golden threshold where the Angel 
 
 kept 
 Bright watch and ward to care who entered in, 
 And still, while listening, kept the watch with 
 
 dole, 
 And wept to think such honors might not win 
 Eternal rest, fit guerdon for the weary soul. 
 (39) 
 
40 AD CGELUM 
 
 The while the spirit meek, with patient courage 
 
 stood 
 Hopeful, and yet submissive to the Master's 
 
 mood, 
 Lo, upward from the dim earth swinging low, 
 Came pleading voices on the charmed air. 
 Sweet woman's plaint, and old men's tones, and 
 
 children's, where 
 A nation knelt in Heaven-aspiring, fervent prayer. 
 
 And tears that fell upon the earth as tho' in vain. 
 In tender morn-like mist came heavenward again. 
 And glowed in golden rays, as if to greet 
 His radiant presence in the open door. 
 While angels welcomed home with music sweet 
 Him who had won Heaven's rest for evermore. 
 
 For love is born of Heaven, the angels sing, 
 And he who, purged of earthly dross, may bring 
 The measure of such love from mortal state 
 Has heritage of Heaven ; and it were meet 
 That he should joyous enter at the golden gate, 
 And lay his precious treasure at the Master's feet. 
 
"FALL IN!" COMRADES 
 
 Here are the old boys together again, the Boys 
 in Blue ; 
 God bless us all, comrades, old friends. Here 's 
 both hands to you. 
 I seem to hear the bugle call, and martial music 
 sweet. 
 And see the flash of the guns, and hear the 
 tramp of marching feet, 
 
 The deep boom of the cannon, the muskets' 
 crackling rattle, 
 The yells, and fierce assault upon the thin blue 
 line of battle, 
 And the wild cheers of our comrades, as our eager 
 column comes, 
 Pressing forward from the distance to the plead- 
 ing of the guns. 
 
 It is but a moment's glow. We are old, we Boys 
 in Blue, 
 We close up our lines with stout hearts, but our 
 numbers grow few. 
 We feel that the years speed away, and our 
 marches are done ; 
 (41) 
 
42 " FALL IN ! " COMRADES 
 
 We dream of the past, and live in the days that 
 are gone. 
 
 When we furled the old flag and broke ranks, we 
 Boys in Blue, 
 The new paths we trod led away from the old 
 friends we knew. 
 For life's struggles are single, each must bear his 
 own brunt, 
 The combat is not as in war, with a company 
 front. 
 
 And the buying and selling we do is but selfish 
 at best ; 
 The care for our own leaves small time for a 
 thought of the rest ; 
 And there often comes to us all a memory of 
 simpler ways. 
 The kindly deed, the generous trust, of good 
 old soldierly days. 
 
 When our chosen comrade, in the days we wore 
 the Blue, 
 Made the ration, scant for one, with cheer a 
 large content for two. 
 When one blanket covered both, and in the 
 camp-fire's fitful gleams 
 We talk'd of home and friends 'til words lapsed 
 into pleasant dreams, 
 
"FALL IN!" COMRADES 43 
 
 And the silent stars looked down upon the quiet 
 camps serene, 
 Where the tented fields lay peaceful as in a 
 summer's dream, 
 And the circling hills around us bounded all the 
 world we knew 
 In the days we camped together, dear old com- 
 rades of the Blue. 
 
 So wherever our lines have led us, we Boys in 
 Blue, 
 We never forget those earlier days, and our 
 comrades stanch and true. 
 And ever within our heart of hearts we held, with 
 joy and pride. 
 Friendship for comrades who lived, love for the 
 comrades who died. 
 
 The wisdom of years has brought to those who 
 loved the Boys in Blue 
 A deeper sense of the heroes to whom their 
 love was due, 
 And they know the honor of station and of riches 
 seem but small 
 To the worth of those who fought for the flag 
 that floats over us all. 
 
 O glorious flag of the fairest land that ever the 
 sun shone on, 
 
44 "FALL IN!" COMRADES 
 
 That gleams in the golden air with the light of 
 
 victories won, 
 With its silken folds caressing the war-worn, 
 
 honored scars 
 That won the stain from its stripes, and gave 
 
 new hope to its stars ! 
 
 With God's light in thy stars, O flag of the free, 
 May the winds woo thy folds upon land and on 
 sea. 
 Till in glad years to come, with thy stripes in the 
 van, 
 All nations shall join the Republic of Man, 
 
 And over the earth bright freedom shall shine, 
 And Might be o'ermastered, and Right be 
 divine ; 
 And the peoples shall rise to a grand self-con- 
 trol, 
 And Justice and Truth rule and govern the 
 whole. 
 
 When the nations, at peace, all as brothers shall 
 be, 
 And no bounds set a bar to the feet of the 
 free, 
 And each flag that floats shall but tell us again 
 Of peace upon earth and good will toward 
 men. 
 
"FALL IN!" COMRADES 45 
 
 O flag, that the sorrowful years set on high 
 For the hope of to-day, for the world's pro- 
 phecy, 
 
 May the stars in the blue of the heavenly dome 
 See thy stars shining still in the ages to come ! 
 
 O comrades who fought, O brave Boys of the 
 Blue, 
 Let the whole world bring tribute of love unto 
 you 
 Who suffered through all the passion-spent years, 
 With their grief and their wounds — their 
 blood and their tears. 
 
 O comrades, dear comrades, O Boys of the Blue, 
 We are gray, we are old, but here 's both hands 
 to you ; 
 While we're marching downhill comes the old 
 love anew. 
 For we 're marching together, dear Boys of the 
 Blue! 
 
THE VETERAN 
 
 Nay, step aside, and give him space, 
 
 Whose stained and threadbare suit of blue. 
 And halting gait, and thin, worn face. 
 
 Tells of the veteran tried and true ; 
 And heed not, though with vacant stare 
 
 He gives no way amid the crowd, 
 But presses on with absent air. 
 
 Half uttering his thoughts aloud. 
 
 For the crowded street has gone from his sight. 
 And the ring of his heel is the sentry's tread ; 
 The grim old walls in the noonday light 
 
 Have faded away, and over his head 
 Is the Southern sky, and sharp and clear 
 The challenge rings out. Halt ! — Who goes 
 
 there ? 
 And the bayonet gleams, as he paces his round, 
 With the enemy camped on the hills beyond. 
 
 And the wild Hurrah ! he hears again. 
 
 Where the tattered flag leads the onward way. 
 
 And the " minies " scream like the whistling rain ; 
 But the trenches are ours, and the lines of gray 
 (46) 
 
THE VETERAN 47 
 
 Are surging back as the flag sweeps on. 
 
 Oh, the patriot fire and the might of his hand, 
 As he strikes for the victory almost won. 
 
 And hears the joy bells ring through the land. 
 
 Oh, the glory of home ! Sweet eyes that shine 
 
 With the glow of love, when the dear name is 
 seen 
 On the battle page. — Oh, the faith divine, 
 
 That believed and knew — when the world did 
 not dream. 
 That no Bayard of old bore a heart more pure 
 
 Or courage more true, though day by day 
 He only showed the strength to endure, 
 
 And calmly plodded along his way. 
 
 No grief to-day for the shrunken limb. 
 
 No sigh for the empty sleeve at his side, 
 No regret for the past, — though his eyes grow 
 dim, 
 
 And the light fades out of the battle pride 
 Remembering, as our lines swept on, 
 
 How gallant hearts went down to the dead, 
 He heaves a sigh for his comrades gone, 
 
 And walks along with a reverent head. 
 
 Stretch out long streets in narrowing line ; 
 
 Flow murmurous tides of busy feet ; 
 Beat, hammer, with a constant chime ; 
 
 O river, surge, the wheel to greet ; 
 
48 THE VETERAN 
 
 Smile, reaper, in thy sylvan home. 
 And harvest with a certain hand ; 
 
 The strife is o'er — the victory won, 
 And gentle peace is in the land. 
 
 O Veteran, in whose gleaming eyes 
 
 The glory of the past doth shine, 
 In coming years the grandest prize — 
 
 A nation's reverence shall be thine ; 
 And burning words shall tell the world 
 
 Thy noble deeds, who 'gainst the wrong 
 The flag of freedom first unfurled. 
 
 And suffering, made the nation strong. 
 
 And glistening eyes shall throb with tears 
 
 At names that, stamped on History's page. 
 Shall aye go ringing down the years. 
 
 The heroes of this patriot age. 
 Like martial music, sweet and strong, 
 
 Thy name, with theirs, shall ever be 
 Borne onward by the tides of song, 
 
 And crowned with immortality. 
 
GETTYSBURG — THIRTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 Where down these silent slopes the changing 
 
 leaves 
 Gleam brightly in these peaceful harvest days, 
 Where through the leaning grass the warm sun 
 
 weaves 
 The ruddy colors in a woof of golden haze ; 
 
 Where close-shorn fields tell of the harvest gain, 
 And meadows lie serene beneath the sky, 
 And sheltered in the sheaves of yellow grain, 
 The quail pipes amorous to an amorous cry ; 
 
 Where fleecy clouds are drifting down the sky. 
 And languorous shadows fall across the lea. 
 Where from the stubble comes the noisy whir 
 Of cicada and honey-laden bee ; 
 
 And children's voices in the meadows, where. 
 Barefooted, by the streams they gather flowers, 
 Float faintly upward in the charmed air. 
 And fill with melody the sunny hours ; 
 
 Where restful by the open cottage door. 
 The ancient matron with her spinning-wheel 
 
 (49) 
 
50 GETTYSBURG 
 
 Drones out the homely song that evermore 
 Has sung the sweet content that only age can 
 feel ; 
 
 Where on this peaceful height the light serene 
 Dwells like a benediction; and the summer sun 
 Shines with a gentle glow on all the scene, 
 To bless the sweet content the land has won, — 
 
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 Here stood the lines of blue, with steadfast feet, 
 While hell seemed raining from the sulphurous 
 
 air, 
 And hurtling shot and bursting bombshell beat 
 In thunderous hail upon this summit, where 
 
 [Unfinished.] 
 
OLD STEAMBOAT DAYS 
 
 I CAN feel the vessel quiver as we 're booming 
 up the river, 
 
 Hear the dashing of the buckets by the panting 
 steamer's side ; 
 
 I can hear the deep bell tolling, see the Missis- 
 sippi rolling 
 
 In its surging, ceaseless flowing down toward 
 the ocean tide. 
 
 The strident steam escaping echoes through the 
 
 sombre draping 
 Of the hooded cypress trees that brood beside 
 
 the turbid stream ; 
 The flashing furnace light throws a glow across 
 
 the night. 
 Where the solemn shadows deepen beyond the 
 
 passing gleam. 
 
 I see the steam wreaths curling, the broad smoke 
 
 flag unfurling, 
 And the ceaseless creaking pilot wheel I hear ; 
 The cabin lights are swinging, to the rhythmic 
 
 cadenced ringing. 
 And the tinkling of the swaying chandelier. 
 (51) 
 
52 OLD STEAMBOAT DAYS 
 
 The grand Ohio highlands, the willow-margined 
 
 islands, 
 The cornfields and the meadows to the water 
 
 sloping down. 
 The rippling pebbly beaches, the long and silent 
 
 reaches, 
 Where the river glides in silence past the sleepy 
 
 little town. 
 
 ********* 
 
 Oh, the olden days entrancing, when life seemed 
 
 but romancing. 
 How changed are all the old familiar scenes, 
 Still the current deep and wide flows toward 
 
 the ocean tide. 
 Far beyond the crescent shores of New Orleans, 
 
 [Unfinished.] 
 
SET TO MUSIC 
 
THE OLDEN TIME 
 
 ARRANGED TO THE AIR OF "DOWN BELOW," AND 
 DEDICATED TO THE HOME CLUB 
 
 We sing the song of olden time, 
 
 Of childhood's merry day, 
 Where memory fondly loves to twine 
 The springing flowers of May. 
 
 When life was young, and 'round us sprung 
 
 The hopes of life's bright morn. 
 That, with the tears of bygone years, 
 Are gone, all gone. 
 
 Chorus : Swell the chime of the merry 
 
 olden time, 
 When youth was in its prime. 
 The merry olden time. 
 
 We journey on through weary j^ears. 
 
 Along life's weary way. 
 And watch the setting of life's sun, 
 The dimming of its ray. 
 
 But clear and bright still beams the light 
 
 Our earlier days upon ; 
 Tho' with the tears of bygone years, 
 (55) 
 
56 THE OLDEN TIME 
 
 They are gone, all gone. 
 Swell the chime, etc. 
 
 So in the autumn of our years, 
 
 And in its dreamy haze. 
 We turn our eyes through misty tears 
 To childhood's happier days. 
 
 And sing the chime of summertime, 
 The hopes of life's bright morn, , 
 That, with the tears of bygone years, 
 Are gone, all gone. 
 Swell the chime, etc. 
 
KATHLEEN O'MORE 
 
 LINES WRITTEN FOR THE MUSIC OF AN OLD IRISH 
 BALLAD OF THAT NAME 
 
 Of sweet, gentle Kathleen, with eyes' loving 
 light, 
 
 How remembrance sweeps o'er me this sweet 
 summer night. 
 
 I dream of sweet Kathleen, my own loving Kath- 
 leen, 
 Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
 
 Her brown hair in waves like the calm summer 
 
 sea, 
 Rippled o'er her pure brow ; ah ! like Heaven to 
 
 me 
 Seemofi sweet gentle Kathleen, my own loving 
 
 Kathleen, 
 Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
 
 In the morn's early gleam sweet Kathleen was 
 
 seen 
 Tripping over the meadow, across the bright 
 
 stream, 
 And the waves danced for Kathleen, sang music 
 for Kathleen, 
 Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
 (57) 
 
58 KATHLEEN O'MORE 
 
 And I, like the waters, the birds, and the flow- 
 ers, 
 Was happy with Kathleen ; sped gayly the hours 
 In loving sweet Kathleen ; ah ! who loved not 
 Kathleen, 
 Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
 
 Ah ! radiant and rare in the soft summer air, 
 The angels watched Kathleen, so good and so 
 
 fair; 
 Looked kindly on Kathleen, all loving sweet 
 
 Kathleen, 
 Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
 
 How sad seems the night ! In memory's light 
 Floats faintly sweet Kathleen, long passed from 
 
 our sight ; 
 For the angels loved Kathleen, in Heaven is 
 
 Kathleen, 
 Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
 
THE OLD PLAYGROUND 
 
 MUSIC ARRANGED BY DE RUVER 
 
 I AM sitting to-day in the old playground, 
 Where you and I have sat so oft together ; 
 I'm thinking of the joys when you and I were 
 
 boys, 
 In those merry days now gone, John, forever. 
 
 'T was here we sat in the merry olden time 
 And dreamed of the wide world before us ; 
 Our visions and hopes of the coming time 
 Were bright as the sun which shone o'er us. 
 
 O'er this threshold, John, we passed forlorn, 
 
 To wander, we knew not where ; 
 
 The Heaven we thought bright was o'ershad- 
 
 owed by night. 
 The pathway lay dark and drear. 
 
 I 'm sitting to-day in the old playground, 
 Where you and I have sat so oft together ; 
 These memories mild have made me a child. 
 As in those merry days now gone, John, forever. 
 (59) 
 
UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER 
 
 MUSIC COMPOSED BY HARRY KLEBER 
 
 Unfurl the glorious banner, let it sway upon the 
 
 breeze, 
 The emblem of our country's pride on land and 
 
 on the seas ; 
 The emblem of our liberty, borne proudly in the 
 
 wars, 
 The hope of every freeman, the gleaming stripes 
 
 and stars. 
 
 Chorus : Unfurl the glorious banner out upon 
 
 the welcoming air. 
 Read the record of the olden time upon its 
 
 radiance there ; 
 And while it floats above us, a beacon it shall 
 
 be 
 Of gentle light in time of peace, or guide to 
 
 victory. 
 
 The noble band of patriots who gave the flag its 
 
 birth 
 Have writ with steel in history the record of their 
 
 worth ; 
 
 (60) 
 
UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER 6i 
 
 From east to west, from sea to sea, from pole 
 to tropic sun. 
 
 Will eyes grow bright and hearts throb high at 
 name of Washington. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Ah ! proudly should we bear it, and guard this 
 flag of ours, 
 
 Borne bravely in its infancy amid the darker 
 hours ; 
 
 Only the true should wear it, — a guerdon it 
 should be 
 
 To those who well have won the right to boast 
 of liberty. 
 Chorus. 
 
 The meteor flag of Seventy-six, long may it wave 
 in pride. 
 
 To tell the world how nobly the patriot fathers 
 died; 
 
 When from the shadows of their night outburst 
 the brilliant sun, 
 
 It bathed in light the stripes and stars, and lo ! 
 the field was won. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Unfurl the glorious banner out upon the welcom- 
 ing air, 
 
 Read the record of their gallantry upon its radi- 
 ance there ; 
 
 In the battle it shall lead us, and the banner ever be 
 
 A beacon light to glory, a guide to victory. 
 Chorus. 
 
RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
Where the sunlight peers down through the 
 quivering leaves 
 
 And flecks the cool shadows of murmuring trees, 
 
 And the birds and the sky and the earth are in 
 tune 
 
 With the radiant air and the roses of June ; 
 
 Where the waters lapse in on the sedge ever- 
 more, 
 
 Bringing whispering sounds from the mystical 
 shore 
 
 Which, vague in the distance, and dreamy and 
 dim, 
 
 Seems a magical land on the lake's further 
 brim, — 
 
 There are two little fellows who all the day long 
 
 Hear the musical winds, the wave and the song. 
 
 What brings color and fragrance to all the bright 
 flowers. 
 
 Brings them beautiful things all the beautiful 
 hours ; — 
 
 Sweet vigor and health, and honor and truth. 
 
 And all that gives color and fragrance to youth. 
 
 Drink in all the sweetness, the peace, the con- 
 tent, 
 
 The rapture, the stillness, the joys that are sent ; 
 (65) 
 
66 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
 Some day will come back, like a vision or dream, 
 All these beautiful things, — all the charm of the 
 
 scene. 
 And my boy, WILLIE ALLEN, recall with a 
 
 sigh, 
 Sweet ELLIS COTTAGE, 
 
 CHAUTAUQUA, N. Y. 
 
When little pet Mazie comes back from her fish- 
 ing, 
 Relating with pride how she "most caught a 
 
 bite," 
 Though the stream, sky, and air have been all to 
 
 her wishing, 
 They will not round out all her happiness, quite. 
 For with evening comes tenderest thoughts of 
 
 her home. 
 The loving arms clasped, the last good-night kiss, 
 And her blue eyes grow dim, and she feels all 
 
 alone 
 For a moment, in thought of the tender caress. 
 To cheer up the dear Pet I send her this letter ; 
 But be careful, dear postman, the dear little elf 
 Is a dignified maid ! Perhaps you had better 
 Ask for MARY L. ALLEN, else Petty herself 
 Might think NEW CASTLE town had too free 
 
 a way, 
 And would want to leave there for this part 
 
 of PA. 
 
 (67) 
 
Where the bright waters murmur up the beach, 
 And white-sailed ships lie dozing off the lea ; 
 Where crescent shores extend in sandy reach, 
 And nestles down HYANNIS by the sea ; 
 
 Where dreamy hours glide by with silent feet, 
 And peaceful days ebb gently as the tide. 
 Where wood flowers tempt with odors sweet 
 The fragrant winds that woo the ocean wide ; 
 
 Where summer's skies are clear and crystal blue, 
 And fleecy argosies float overhead, 
 Where summer seas reflecting all their hue 
 Stretch eastward till the sky and sea are wed, — 
 
 There on the sands where rippling waters rhyme 
 The melody that all the centuries know. 
 The children, careless of the fleeting time. 
 With joyous laughter watch the ebb and flow. 
 
 O HAROLD ALLEN, of the Saxon line, 
 Earlier seas brought sorrow to the Saxon king ; 
 By peaceful seas a happier fate is thine, 
 To you of hope and joy the waters sing. 
 (68) 
 
RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 69 
 
 Through centuries may they sing their peaceful 
 
 song, 
 And laughing children by their margin wait ; 
 And still for centuries to come sing on, 
 And long bring joy and comfort to the OLD 
 
 BAY STATE. 
 
 On the broad prairie, where the summer sun 
 Shines down on fields wherein the cornblades 
 
 quiver, 
 Where, winding slow, the pleasant waters run, 
 There sits fair LAWRENCE by the KANSAS 
 
 river. 
 
 O fruitful fields, no more the echoing rifle 
 
 Startles the listening winds with tales of slaugh- 
 ter; 
 
 When Slavery reached her murderous hands to 
 stifle 
 
 The beauteous prairie child, fair freedom's daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 O CHARLIE FINDLEY, eyes of summer 
 
 blue 
 Have wept for those who fell in that dread 
 
 fray; 
 And children, loving home not less than you, 
 Have wandered homeless from these fields 
 
 away. 
 
^o RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
 And nameless men have died defending right, 
 Where gentle peace now lingers by this stream ; 
 No nobler deeds were ever writ in song, 
 Or told of in romance's wildest dream. 
 
 And so, dear boy, as through the streets you 
 
 wend, 
 With smiles for those you see on every side. 
 Let grateful thoughts of living friends still blend 
 With grateful thoughts of those who nameless 
 
 died. 
 
 O youth ! so eager for the world's great fight. 
 Pause here awhile, accept the lesson taught ; 
 Swear to be loyal ever to the right. 
 Or else in vain for you these heroes wrought. 
 
Pass this letter along, my good man, custodian of 
 
 P. O. locks ; 
 You, mail clerk, get it in the right bag; you, 
 
 postman, in the right box ; 
 For my old friend, when his boat comes in, will 
 
 call and see 
 If the mail has brought him anything ; andCAPT. 
 
 JOHN G. 
 PARKER will get his back up if there is any 
 
 delay. 
 And you give him a letter to-morrow he ought to 
 
 get to-day. 
 He might say "cuss words," and might also 
 
 think that I 
 Should drop a line to Washington and ask them 
 
 to pry 
 Into the matter a little ; and a half dozen other 
 
 fellows 
 Who are waiting for your place would get out 
 
 their little bellows 
 And blow this spark into flame, and you might 
 
 be "fired out," 
 So pass this letter along, good fellows, both " end 
 
 men" and en route, 
 (71) 
 
72 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
 And get this letter to its owner all in proper 
 season, 
 
 Or in default thereof have prepared an excellent 
 reason ; 
 
 For neither to the one or other is the chance so 
 dim, 
 
 Either to you on the route, or to you, my friend, 
 at OLYM- 
 
 PIA ; but it would be wise to hurry up, my dear 
 sir. 
 
 And get this letter out and delivered to WASH- 
 INGTON TER. 
 
When the night lamps are lit, and we 're grouped 
 
 all together, — 
 We folk that are left in the old house at home, 
 Then we miss both the boys, and wondering 
 
 whether 
 They yearn, too, for us, as south'ard they roam ; 
 We indite ye epistle, and thanking the railway 
 Which, scornful of space, sweeps out from our 
 
 sight, 
 We know in brief time they will read what we 
 
 say 
 Of tenderest love on this sweet summer night. 
 We know that even amid all their pleasure, 
 'Mid old friends well met and friends newly 
 
 found. 
 It will add to their gladness additional measure 
 To receive loving words from the dear Smoky 
 
 Town. 
 Some faith I have lost amid all the sterner 
 And harassing cares that test worldly truth, 
 But believe WILLIE ALLEN and bright 
 
 JESSE TURNER 
 Could never forget the dear friends of their 
 
 youth. 
 
 (73) 
 
74 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
 Time flies, my dear boys, spring is not forever ; 
 Be gay when you can, all you can during 
 This pleasant sojourn, you two cousins together ; 
 With those whom we love in the town of VAN 
 
 BUREN 
 Enjoy all you may, inside of the law, 
 And you '11 find pleasant people in old ARKAN- 
 SAS. 
 
On Jordan's stormy banks he stood, and cast a 
 wishful eye 
 
 To Massachusetts' rocky shore, where fair pos- 
 sessions He ; 
 
 And as he gazed, there came desire, that strong 
 and stronger grew, 
 
 That he could leave his lonely life, and go and 
 lie there too ; 
 
 Whereon he girded up his loins, and left that 
 land of darkness, 
 
 And struck out for the rising sun ; behold him ! 
 MARTIN HARKNESS, 
 
 The youth within whose guileless breast dwells 
 none of SALT LAKE's evil, 
 
 Who scorns the many-wived UTAH as saints 
 would scorn the devil. 
 
 O miner, after all these years of toiling without 
 measure, 
 
 Your eager steps to home return to seek life's 
 greatest treasure. 
 
 Stand by, all gentile friends, to see again by Salt 
 Lake's water 
 
 This gallant homo come again, with Massachu- 
 setts' daughter. 
 
 (75) 
 
'je RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
 Nay, only one, good Mormons all ; but see ! in 
 
 Nature's plenty 
 Are gathered all the charms in her you hope to 
 
 find in twenty. 
 Fair bride, accept my loving ruth, while friends 
 
 press 'round to meet you 
 I only (though with equal truth) may send these 
 
 lines to greet you. 
 
JOHN H. ROBINSON, 
 
 OIL CITY, PA., 
 
 Hand this letter to CHIP ALLEN right away, 
 Tell him to get that whereof I write, 
 And to be home certainly next Tuesday night ; 
 Vacation done, school demands the old toil 
 For another year, he must go "short " on oil. 
 Then maybe he can go again to Oil City ; 
 Deo volente, and if not, more 's the pity. 
 Only Ingersol et al " gang their ain gait" 
 And deem no Higher Power bids go, or wait ; 
 But we believe that even for Bulls and Bears 
 The "Great Power" daily watches and cares. 
 But I must say on faith it 's a heavy pull 
 To think He worries over either Bear or Bull ; 
 If faith had such another strain to endure, 
 Ingersol would have it all his own way, sure, 
 
 (77) 
 
Up the long line of prairie lands, 
 The tiny threads of iron bands 
 Wind thro' the ever deepening snow, 
 Where Platte rolls down with seaward flow ; 
 And lessening lines of spectral posts 
 Bear burden of aeolian hosts 
 That constant tell with moans and sighs 
 Of gloomy lands and desolate skies. 
 Still upward, where the mountain crest 
 Looks down upon the farther West, 
 The iron bands still seaward go, 
 Past inland lake and rivers' flow, 
 Through Mormon realm and land of gold, 
 Through vineyard slopes and arctic cold. 
 Through deserts drear and generous fields. 
 Here lava rocks, there Nature yields 
 The golden grain ; here heights sublime, 
 There meadows green ; here rugged pine. 
 There summer flowers ; but here and there. 
 In summer skies and wintry air. 
 The constant rails are ever seen 
 Still pressing on to where the queen 
 Of sunset shores sleeps on the bay ; 
 And at her feet they lay the store 
 Which they have brought from shore to shore. 
 (78) 
 
RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 79 
 
 City Queen, unto your care 
 They trust a treasure rich and rare ; 
 To years of gray, from age of youth 
 
 1 've treasured friendship, pure as truth ; 
 And in these happy Christmas times. 
 Enveloped in these careless rhymes 
 
 I send to MISTRESS ANNE STROUD 
 These Christmas lines. Nor think me proud, 
 
 City Queen, O Ocean Bride, 
 Because in all your golden pride 
 
 1 deem you honored, bearing on 
 
 This trust to PORTLAND, OREGON. 
 
'T WAS believed that the gleam of the earliest morn 
 Lit up the bright east with the glorious rays, 
 And with crimson and gold hailed the hour newly 
 
 born, 
 The herald of all the serene summer days. 
 
 So all poets had sung, so astronomers taught, 
 And the fable had come to us down thro' the 
 
 ages ; 
 But the silly tradition is now set at naught. 
 We laugh at the teachers whom once we thought 
 
 sages. 
 
 For we know in the East we MISS MORNING 
 
 GLORY, 
 Where they taught us of old that the golden 
 
 dawn-sun 
 Streamed with banners of light, — 't is a fabulous 
 
 story ; 
 The brightness is all in the west with Miss 
 JOHNSTON. 
 
 The old myth has faded, the change has been 
 
 thorough. 
 The faith of our childhood has left us. Oh, why, 
 
 oh, 
 
 (80) 
 
RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 8i 
 
 Did they twist the horizon around to HILLS- 
 BOROUGH, 
 
 And move our bright East 'way out west to 
 OHIO! 
 
On thy clear flowing tide, O beautiful river, 
 Gliding down in the track of the westering sun. 
 From thy shallows defend, from thy sand bars 
 
 deliver 
 The tiny, wee craft (till its haven is won) 
 Of these young friends of mine whose intent is 
 
 to wander, — 
 One named ROBERT BURNS, one JOHN 
 
 ALEXANDER, 
 From thy source to where CAIRO will show to 
 
 the boys 
 How the grand Mississippi by fair ILLINOIS, 
 The bluff, old, impetuous Father of Waters 
 Receives in his bosom his fairest of daughters. 
 O Postman of that ilk, when hither doth come 
 A fair, frank young face, give this letter from home. 
 You may smile at his eager and sparkling eyes 
 When you hand it out to him, but yet will arise 
 A sigh for your youth, as you, dreaming, re- 
 member 
 Your springtime of life, in this bleak, gray No- 
 vember. 
 For this gleam of your boyhood, as back your 
 
 thoughts wander, 
 Bid God-speed to John, our boy, John Alexander. 
 (82) 
 
As down the old watery dad you meander, 
 Just drop off at Memphis, O ! JOHN ALEX- 
 ANDER, 
 For there I have sent you a rhythmical letter ; — 
 Seen that one at CAIRO, and gone you one 
 
 better. 
 So take up your oars, and companioned by Joy 
 And Hope, bid farewell to fair ILLINOIS. 
 (83) 
 
Now don't, my dear Postman, "go off on your 
 
 ear," 
 Because this rhythmical letter comes here ; 
 'T would grieve me to think that this " raised your 
 
 dander," 
 And made you act ugly to JOHN ALEX- 
 ANDER, 
 My young artist friend who will float down the 
 
 river, 
 And ask you at MEM PHIS this sheet to deliver. 
 Be gentle unto him, for O my dear "pard," 
 It might be you 'd find yourself hit very hard 
 By this sketchy young fellow who holds TEN- 
 NESSEE 
 At the point of his pencil, and might in his free 
 And debonair style make a grotesque "dead set " 
 At your cynical face; — and this would, "you 
 
 bet," 
 Be rueful to you when in some magazine 
 He pictures the places and people he 's seen. 
 So give him your bright side and reach out your 
 
 hand. 
 And "smole him a smile" that is childlike and 
 
 bland ; 
 And when further south'ard he wendeth his way, 
 (84) 
 
RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 85 
 
 Wish him every good fortune ; but don't in your 
 
 play, 
 When for luck's sake you throw your old shoe as 
 
 a present, 
 Leave your foot in the leather, — it would n't be 
 
 pleasant. 
 
Where I write there is snow deep on the ground, 
 White-shrouded the trees, and keen and chill the 
 
 air. 
 He to whom this letter goes will be found 
 In the land of the vine ; and yet there 
 Will be seen snowy fields and icicles clear 
 Side by side with meadows green, and tropic 
 
 light 
 With brassy skies, and glaciers with prisms 
 
 bright, 
 And angels' faces look down, and human faces 
 
 divine 
 All glowing with love, and peaceful, shine 
 Upon my friend, who can, by magic spell 
 And by deft use of magic brush, compel 
 All scenes, all faces, both divine and human, 
 Grave, earnest men, and tender, loving women. 
 To be about him ; — can call all airs, all climes. 
 Upon his glowing canvas, — the summer hours, 
 With golden fields and sky-reflected flowers. 
 Or winter fields, or autumn's leafless bowers. 
 O Painter, more than this is thine — 
 The power to gather hearts about thy shrine ; 
 There may be those who little reck 
 (86) 
 
RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 87 
 
 Thy genius, O ray friend, FRANK DUVAN- 
 
 ECK; 
 But none can in all beauteous FLORENCE see 
 Thine equal as a friend. Nor can there be 
 More generous heart in all fair ITALY. 
 
Ho, Postman of ASHLAND, don't frown, my 
 
 good friend. 
 Because toOHIO this letter I send ; 
 With a rhyming address, while with specs on your 
 
 nose 
 You try to decipher the place where it goes. 
 And wonder that those who send letters through 
 
 you 
 Cannot plainly direct them, as other folks do. 
 It is simple enough, she 's so blooming and hearty, 
 You certainly cannotMISS KATIE McCARTY; 
 Put your specs in your case, do not bother your 
 
 brains ; 
 These stanzas have cost me no end of pains. 
 There is no rhythm left, and the very next time 
 I write her there shan't be a vestige of rhyme ! 
 (88) 
 
Postman, old fellow, as through you I send 
 This letter to give to my dear little friend, 
 
 1 can fancy his comical look of surprise. 
 And witness the gleam of his sparkling eyes 
 As you say, " Little chappie, a letter for you. 
 Addressed CHARLIE FINDLEY, here's some- 
 thing new ; 
 
 Just arrived in the mail for MEADVILLE, to- 
 day, 
 
 Postage all right, there is nothing to PA." 
 
 And the dear little fellow will hardly know 
 whether 
 
 To thank you or me, or both us together. 
 
 Well, let him thank both ; I send, you deliver ; 
 
 If we gladden his heart, let us both be the giver; 
 
 To give pleasure to youth is the purest of joys, 
 
 What could we do more, we two jolly old boys ? 
 (89) 
 
Whatever charm of sea or shore 
 
 May linger by the seaside reach, 
 There still may be a pleasure more 
 
 To swell the magic of the beach. 
 
 Whatever grace of sea or shore 
 
 May linger by the ebbing tide, 
 The constant sea for evermore 
 
 Would MISS GRACE from its 
 
 side, 
 
 O time of roses, youth, and grace. 
 Where you abide is the true court 
 
 And realm of love, and her sweet face 
 Has made the lists with you, NEWPORT. 
 
 RHODE ISLAND, keep thy treasure well ; 
 
 O waves, make music on the shore ; 
 And like the murmur of a shell 
 
 Sing, constant sea, for evermore. 
 (90) 
 
This to my comrade, COLONEL JOHN H. 
 CAIN, 
 
 Camp'd where French Creek's famed historic 
 
 stream 
 Comes from the Lake, singing the same old strain 
 And flashing, as it sings, the fitful gleam 
 The painted Indian knew, paddling his light canoe 
 Under the shaded banks and past the silent trees, 
 Stirred by the horror of the scalp halloo. 
 Borne to the awe-struck hills upon the shudder- 
 ing breeze. 
 
 A change is o'er thy waters since those evil days. 
 Peace reigns where ghastly terror filled the air ; 
 The church bells chime of peaceful Christian 
 
 ways, 
 And children's voices ring in laughter, where 
 Of old the captive's shriek down by the water side 
 Rang through the listening woods, in deep de- 
 spair, 
 In hours of torture ere the victim died. 
 Hearing thy music mock his agony and prayer. 
 
 While yet the babbling waters tell the woe 
 Of fierce and bloody warfare thro' the years 
 (91) 
 
92 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 
 
 That now seems but a dream of long ago, 
 When peace and safety banish all these fears, 
 Happy, in all these happier days may bring, 
 A peaceful people dwell in peaceful ways, 
 And, still remembering what thy waters sing. 
 Rest in the summer ease of summer days. 
 
 Ah ! comrade mine, whose right to rest at last 
 Was earned by suffering through the days of 
 
 old — 
 Through all the blood and tears of wars long past. 
 And all the hardships that cannot be told, 
 I fancy, like the stream that murmurs on, 
 The past is with you still, and who shall say, 
 What memories of the fateful days now gone 
 Come to my comrade in his home, FRANK- 
 LIN, PA 
 
IN CALLOW DAYS 
 
MUSIC 
 
 iETAT 12 
 
 It is music to the mariner 
 To hear the light winds sigh, 
 The murmur of the white-cap waves 
 That fitfully roll by. 
 
 It is music to the forester 
 To hear the rude wind strong 
 Rage through the forest, or to hear 
 The wild bird's echoing song. 
 
 It is music to the farmer 
 To hear the rustling corn, 
 As the bright sun shines upon it 
 On a sunny August morn. 
 
 The Poet loves the music 
 Of the clear and sparkling rill, 
 As it prattles o'er its pebbly way 
 On an evening calm and still. 
 
 But let me hear the music 
 To our fireside memories dear — 
 (95) 
 
96 MUSIC 
 
 The melodies of childhood 
 Are sweetest to my ear. 
 
 They awaken thoughts of school-time, 
 When we sported all the day, 
 And our playmates' voices live again 
 In the well-remembered lay. 
 
THE STOMACH-ACHE 
 
 Ye that know what 't is to suffer, 
 Join me in the prayer I make ; 
 Of all the ills that flesh is heir to, 
 Save me from the stomach-ache. 
 
 Rolling, moaning, 
 
 Tossing, groaning, 
 Wond'ring what the world to take, 
 'T is no trouble bending double. 
 
 There 's nothing like the stomach-ache! 
 
 Old Prometheus, from whose liver 
 Vultures daily morsels take, 
 (The thought 's enough to make one shiver) 
 Knew nothing like the stomach-ache. 
 
 Peppermint and ginger-tea. 
 
 Whiskey hot, and sangaree, 
 Though I 'm temperate, anything — 
 Wine or gin, or brandy sling. 
 My stomach is a spirit lake, 
 Mercy on us ! what a rout — 
 Enough to burn one's entrails out ; 
 
 There 's nothing like the stomach-ache ! 
 (97) 
 
98 THE STOMACH-ACHE 
 
 Tantalus, who much desired 
 " Suthin' " for his stomach's sake, 
 Must have had a time of it, — 
 But nothing Hke the stomach-ache ! 
 
 Tying bedclothes in a knot, 
 
 Heaving up you know not what, 
 Now with knees up to your head. 
 Springing almost out of bed, 
 Now as stiff as any stake ; 
 
 Grumbling, growling, 
 
 Shrieking, howling, 
 
 There 's nothing like the stomach-ache ! 
 
 Ye who would the world forget. 
 And the toils which it doth make, 
 It is easy done — just set 
 Yourself for touch of stomach-ache. 
 
 Stomach sick, and head so dizzy, 
 
 I warrant it to keep you busy 
 
 Tumbling, tearing. 
 
 Pitching, rearing. 
 It 's the last attempt you '11 make ; 
 When you try, you '11 not deny 
 
 There 's nothing like the stomach-ache ! 
 
TO BROTHER GEORGE 
 
 ONCE A FAMOUS MARBLE PLAYER 
 
 Life 's but a game of marbles, George, 
 
 And many do we meet 
 Who don't " lay in their nickers," 
 
 And try every way to cheat. 
 
 There are those who live by " inching," 
 
 And many " Sam McCord ; " 
 And others, like (well, you know whom) 
 
 Ne'er spend, but always hoard. 
 
 Some all their lives " shoot easy," George, 
 Some " plump," with might and main ; 
 
 And always bear in mind that those 
 Who risk naught, nothing gain. 
 
 Many are "killed " in the "first ring," 
 Some "knock their nickers fenn ; " 
 
 Others lose courage with one " bad shot," 
 And never " shoot " again. 
 
 Some "knuckle" ere they "plump," George, 
 
 Like birds which stoop to fly, 
 
 (99) 
 LofC. 
 
100 TO BROTHER GEORGE 
 
 Then look with scorn on their old friends 
 From their places set on high. 
 
 Some always " draw," and all their lives 
 Will dread the rich man's frown ; 
 
 Others again have self-respect, 
 And never "knuckle down." 
 
 One in revenge will have " man dobbs," 
 Though cowardly, my brother ; 
 
 And you will find the men who will 
 Strike one man through another. 
 
 Some lose all ; and when they fail 
 In what they 've undertaken, 
 
 Being thus " fenn for the ring," 
 Are by the world forsaken. 
 
 So George, you see in your old game, 
 In which you won the laurel. 
 
 You filled your pockets with the spoil, 
 And overlooked the moral. 
 
 I guess that 's Life ; who wins the toss 
 Hears but the coin's sweet chinking. 
 
 And leaves the one who bears the loss 
 To do the serious thinking. 
 
BURIAL PRAYER 
 
 O ! BURY me by the green brookside, 
 Where the willow kisses the rippling tide ; 
 Where naught is heard but the waterfall, 
 Or the echo of the red bird's call ; 
 Where the flowers breathe sweets on the summer 
 air — 
 
 Bury me there. 
 
 I am willing to die, and I bide my time 
 Content, though cut off in the flush of prime ; 
 But my hope would depart, and my peace be 
 
 fled 
 Did I know that my body, when I am dead, 
 Would be laid in the dusty city, where 
 All is noise and confusion — 
 
 Not there, O ! not there. 
 
 But afar in some sequestered glen, 
 Far, far, from the busy haunts of men, 
 Where the willow, with its drooping bough. 
 Weeps for the one so lonely now ; 
 Where the squirrel peeps out from hidden lair — 
 Bury me there. 
 
 (lOl) 
 
102 BURIAL PRAYER 
 
 Where naught is heard on the turf above 
 But the mourner's tread on the errand of love, 
 Or the mournful call of the whippoorwill, 
 As it wakens the forest so solemn and still, 
 And the moonlight silvers the blossoms near — 
 Bury me there. 
 
 Then my spirit would hover o'er haunts loved of 
 
 yore; 
 And those who wept would grieve them no more, 
 For the green grass above and the flowers around 
 Would tell them of heaven, where my spirit had 
 
 found 
 A refuge and rest from all sorrow and care ; 
 Then bury there, O ! bury me there. 
 
TO BROTHER WILLIAM 
 
 ON THE HILL WATCHING THE COMING OF HIS HOME- 
 WARD-BOUND BOAT 
 
 Recently risen from sickness and pain, 
 I am out in the free, pure air again, 
 And on the grass-grown quarry's brow, 
 In the cheering sun I am sitting now. 
 In the dreamy home of an invalid's brain 
 Fancy is weaving a wondrous chain ; 
 Thoughts as of one forsaken and lone 
 Weirdly mingle with thoughts of home. 
 The city noise and the city hum 
 Chastened by space, to me doth come 
 Bringing thoughts, I know not why, 
 Shadowy thoughts of days gone by ; 
 Dim memories of happier hours. 
 Like the lost scent of faded flowers. 
 Yet one clear thought distinctly comes 
 Through the misty veil of its dreamy home 
 Like a clear star through the ether blue, — 
 Looking for you, Willie, looking for you ! 
 
 Looking for you, how the brain doth teem 
 With myriad thoughts of what hath been 
 (103) 
 
104 TO BROTHER WILLIAM 
 
 The treasured hopes of long gone years — 
 Their joys — their griefs — their smiles — their 
 
 tears ; 
 The world seems dim ; the skies above 
 Have naught of earth but faith and love, 
 And, purged from dross by painful days, 
 I seem aloof from worldly ways, 
 Forgetting all things of now and here, 
 Save the great joy of your coming near ; 
 Deeming all sounds, from grasshoppers' drone 
 To song of the birds, echo " Brother, come home ; ' ' 
 While Sol, dropping down to the sunset tree, 
 Doth throw a smile on the waters for thee. 
 And the last bright ray of the closing day 
 Weaves a tissue of gold o'er thy coming way, 
 And I with a hope-smile, radiant too, 
 Am looking for you, Willie, looking for you. 
 
TO SISTER ELIZABETH 
 
 WHO GAVE BACK TO ME A CORNELIAN EARDROP I HAD 
 GIVEN HER AT CONCORD FARM, WHEN I CONSIDERED IT 
 A GREAT TREASURE, AND THOUGHT I HAD MADE HER 
 WEALTHY 
 
 I GAZED on the Cornelian, and the youthful days 
 
 so bright, 
 When in my sunny boyhood dreams I almost 
 
 saw the " light 
 That never was on sea or shore ; " when e'en the 
 
 summer sky 
 With all its gladdening joyousness was half a 
 
 prophecy, 
 Came drifting dimly back to me, through the 
 
 forgetful past, 
 Seen faintly through the shadowy veil the years 
 
 had overcast ; 
 And a melody rang through it all, — a sweet and 
 
 flute-like strain — 
 The songs that Libbie used to sing ; and my 
 
 youth came back again. 
 
 And the past rose clear before me, and the misty 
 
 veil uprose ; 
 I saw sweet Concord's meadows green beneath 
 
 the sun repose, 
 
 (los) 
 
io6 TO SISTER ELIZABETH 
 
 I saw the distant brooklet gleaming brightly in 
 
 the sun, 
 And the shadows of the forest trees tell when 
 
 the day was done. 
 I seemed to see the village church, and thro' the 
 
 open door 
 I saw devoutly kneeling men whose heads were 
 
 silvered o'er 
 By the frost of many winters, — whose hands, so 
 
 palsied now. 
 Had ofttimes in the furrowed field managed with 
 
 skill the plough. 
 
 And some who in the prime of youth knelt down 
 
 on bended knee, 
 With hearts uplifted thankfully to Thee, O God ! 
 
 to Thee, 
 And there the youthful mother, and the father's 
 
 look of pride, 
 And there the sturdy farmer with his children by 
 
 his side ; 
 Over all the quaint old hymn, borne sweetly in 
 
 the air. 
 And echoing thro' the forest, 'mid the solemn 
 
 stillness there, 
 Did mingle with the waterfall, reechoing down 
 
 the rill, 
 And die in rich, wild music far o'er the distant 
 
 hill. 
 
TO SISTER ELIZABETH 107 
 
 I wandered to the churchyard ; the simple head- 
 stones bore 
 The names of some with moss o'ergrown full 
 
 many years before ; 
 And some whose names upon the stone told of a 
 
 later date, 
 Of grieving friends who, mourning, weep at their 
 
 untimely fate. 
 One small mound, with flowers bedecked, told of 
 
 the anguish wild — 
 The deep, heart-broken sorrow of a mother for 
 
 her child. 
 But the sun shone warmly over all, and nestling 
 
 shadows lay 
 Calmly alike on fresh-carved tomb and on the 
 
 tablet gray. 
 
 I saw once more the green brookside with over- 
 hanging trees, 
 
 Where the music of the Third Church bell came 
 faintly on the breeze. 
 
 I heard again the crickets' chirp, I heard the wild 
 birds sing, 
 
 And distant sound of woodsman's axe thro' the 
 old forest ring. 
 
 Away far up the brookside, and through the 
 quivering leaves, 
 
 I see the large, old rambling barn, with birds' 
 nests in the eaves ; 
 
108 TO SISTER ELIZABETH 
 
 And while the clear brook at my feet, still flow- 
 ing, murmurs on. 
 
 The rippling waters bring to me sweet thoughts 
 of days now gone. 
 
 Then to our little milldam, where we thought the 
 
 ducks would swim, 
 (And where perhaps they would have, had it held 
 
 the water in), 
 I saw the two blood horses, Wild Nell and patient 
 
 Sally, 
 And the spot where Walter buried one adown 
 
 the lonesome valley ; 
 I seemed to see the orchard, it all looked just the 
 
 same; 
 E'en to that stout old apple-tree where William 
 
 cut his name, 
 And the little house that Walter built beneath 
 
 the straw so deep, 
 Where we 'd read the Cyclopaedia, and reading, 
 
 fall asleep. 
 
 A change is o'er my spirit, and I no more can 
 
 see 
 The scenes I have recalled again of boyhood's 
 
 days of glee ; 
 And naught is now before me but the stone I 
 
 sent to you. 
 And a vague remembrance of the good I then 
 
 thought it could do. 
 
TO SISTER ELIZABETH 109 
 
 Change has come sadly over all, and still must 
 
 changes come, — 
 As it has been so it must be, 'til our journey 
 
 here is done ; 
 I 'm not the same, nor you the same, and o'er 
 
 that quiet home 
 Years have brought change, and it is drear, and 
 
 desolate, and lone. 
 
 You 've sought another home since then, where 
 
 the Indian trod before, 
 And where on high their graves are seen on far 
 
 Virginia's shore. 
 And one whose laugh with yours rang out and 
 
 floated o'er the hill, 
 In distant lands since often heard, is now forever 
 
 still. 
 And I, the happy-hearted boy, who, in my joyous 
 
 youth 
 Thought all I saw was as it seemed, — all purity 
 
 and truth, 
 Upon those hills no longer roam ; nor ever can 
 
 there be 
 As cheering sun, as brightening hopes, as once 
 
 shone over me. 
 
REPLY OF COLONEL EDWARD JAY ALLEN 
 
 To Asst. Adjutant General Thomas, on his pre- 
 sentation of a flag from the State of Pennsyl- 
 vania to the 155th Regiment Penna. Volun- 
 teers at Sharpsburg, Maryland, after the battle 
 of Antietam, 1862 
 
 General, — In behalf of the one hundred and 
 fifty-fifth regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers, I 
 receive at your hand with pride and pleasure this 
 glorious proof that the Old Commonwealth has 
 not forgotten her sons who went forth from her 
 bosom to battle for the integrity of the Federal 
 Arch, of which she is the keystone. 
 
 While I am proud that Pennsylvania deems us 
 worthy of so precious a trust, I receive it with a 
 saddened heart ; for gazing upon its starry folds 
 I remember the tried and the true who have gone 
 down to the silent dead in this struggle of free- 
 dom against despotism while the end for which 
 they fought was yet unaccomplished. 
 
 Brave spirits ! Gallant souls ! May the mem- 
 ory of their deeds nerve us in our hour of battle, 
 that we may garner the harvest of which they 
 planted the seed. 
 
 Remembering the calm grandeur of these 
 heroes dead, it is not for us to make promise of 
 (no) 
 
COLONEL ALLEN'S REPLY in 
 
 our future ; but we may say to you, the honored 
 representative of our native State and of home, 
 that we feel the deep responsibility resting upon 
 all Americans in this struggle, and hope that 
 when we go forth to the fray, as better men 
 have gone before us, we will merit the confidence 
 of those who love us, and some day may turn 
 toward home and deliver this banner once again 
 to Pennsylvania, and, grouped about it lovingly, 
 may say with pride and with truth. Tattered 
 though it be by the winds of heaven, soiled 
 though it be by the dust of earth, stained by the 
 blood of our comrades in the field, we give it 
 again to thy trust, O Pennsylvania, undimmed 
 by shame, unstained by dishonor. 
 
 Battles in which the regiment was engaged : — 
 Antietam Bethesda Church 
 
 Fredericksburg Cold Harbor 
 
 Chancellorsville Petersburg 
 
 Aldie Weldon Railroad 
 
 Rappahannock Station Peebles Farm 
 
 Mine Run Hatchers Run 
 
 Wilderness Quakers Ford 
 
 Laurel Hill Boydton Plank Road 
 
 Spottsylvania White Oak Road 
 
 South Anna River Five Forks 
 
 Tolopotomy Sailors Creek 
 
 Gettysburg 
 Appomattox 
 
l7 1901 
 
DEC 24 ISOO 
 
"library of congress 
 
 llllillllllllilllll 
 
 015 785,274 7