LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 fS^-^s^ . 
 
 Shelf .M..5J3 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
POEMS 
 
 j^isriD 
 
 SONGS 
 
 BY 
 
 EGBERT I. McMECHA:N". 
 
 4 
 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 Elm Street Printing Co., 17G and 178 Elm Street. 
 
 1877. 
 
 t 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 
 
 R, I. McMECHAN, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 
 
TO 
 
 MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS 
 
 This Little Volume 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
flojNTEJMTg. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Story of Alonzo, ....... 7 
 
 The Christian's Home, 3q 
 
 A Friend Indeed, . 33 
 
 Whip-Poor- Will, 36 
 
 Welcome to Spring, ^q 
 
 Isle of Innocence, ao 
 
 In Memoriam, ^^ 
 
 Almost Persuaded, 5q 
 
 Fully Persuaded, 52 
 
 Autumn, kc 
 
 Love's Tribute, ^g 
 
 Cherub Waifs, qq 
 
 Snow Birds, ... - ao 
 
 The Summer Kains, qq 
 
 The Pilgrim, gg 
 
 His First Love, Yq 
 
 Disheartened: A Fragment, 74 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Sister, , . 77 
 
 Sweet Sometime, 79 
 
 That Dream, gj 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 What Then, 83 
 
 A Fairy Tale of Spring, 85 
 
 Home at Last, 94 
 
 She Too is Gone, 98 
 
 Love God, IQO 
 
 'Tis Sweet to Die, 103 
 
 Bob White, 105 
 
 Angeline, 112 
 
 Kissing Through the Leaves, 114 
 
 She Sleeps Wei], 116 
 
 Grade and Genaro, 118 
 
 The Bachelor's Soliloquy, 127 
 
 Serenade, 129 
 
 The Kitty Dids, "... 130 
 
 The Coming Storm, 132 
 
 Without Our Hopes, 137 
 
 Be Not Afraid, Only Believe, . . . . . . .139 
 
 Night, 141 
 
 Longing For Rest, 143 
 
 Going Home, ' . . . . 146 
 
 Sleep, 148 
 
 Sleighing, 150 
 
 Speak Gently, 151 
 
 I Shall Be Satisfied, . 163 
 
 A Prayer, ..,,,..... 155 
 
'P0EM3 AJV(D ^0JNQ3. 
 
 THE STOEY OF ALONZO. 
 
 LEO. 
 
 LOISTZO, can it be that you are here? 
 r^^y AVheii last we met yoii were a beardless boy, 
 But full of manly promise: bidding fair 
 To blossom and bear honorable fruit. 
 Tell me, my friend, what brought you to this place 
 To waste in idle thoughts the golden hours 
 Which God hath given you? These dungeon walls 
 Are not a fitting place for manhood's years, 
 That should be gathering harvests for the soul. 
 Tell me, in brief, the story of your life. 
 
8 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 ALONZO. 
 
 You would not care to hear a tale so sad ; 
 
 So full of crime and wrong! nay, you would blush 
 
 For having ever known so base a friend! 
 
 But if it be your pleasure, this will serve 
 
 To while away the melancholy hours. 
 
 You ask what brought me here? I answer. Love. 
 
 LEO. 
 
 Not love, Alonzo; how could love do this? 
 
 ALONZO. 
 
 It was not love itself, but the excess 
 
 That made such frightful shipwreck of my life. 
 
 A passion like a wild, impetuous stream. 
 
 Scorning the bounds of prudence Wisdom set. 
 
 Bore me along upon its giddy waves 
 
 And cast me helpless on the shoals of crime. 
 
 The story I will give in substance now: 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO.. 9 
 
 A cottage stood embowered in clustering shrubs, 
 Beneath a mountain on whose lofty tops 
 The heavens seemed to rest. A lovely vale 
 Stretched far away in front, where silvery brooks 
 Babbled their songs of praise, and stately groves 
 To their inviting shade welcomed the birds; 
 While flocks and herds upon the mountain slopes, 
 And tinkling bells, and busy humming bees 
 Gave life and tranquil beauty to the scene. 
 This was the home of Gertrude, w^hom I loved. 
 From childhood here she lived; the Jight and joy 
 Of this secluded cot. And every year 
 But added charms to her fair form and face. 
 And graces to her gentle, winsome ways. 
 The time of whicli I wish to speak, was when 
 Some sixteen summers of her life had passed 
 And left their sunshine in her tender heart. 
 
10 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 A crown of golden tresses on her head, 
 And blossoms in her cheeks and ripening lips. 
 Her beauty was of that peculiar type 
 That grows upon the senses by degrees : 
 I^ot like the full-blown rose that all admire, 
 But as a modest flower that tries to hide 
 Its lovely petals from the common gaze: 
 JSTot like a flash of light that blinds the eye, 
 But as a slowly dawning morn in May. 
 Her slender form was graceful as the fawn's; 
 And in th^ dark blue eyes so full of thought, 
 A tender, Indian-summer light reposed. 
 
 I often met her there, and learned to love 
 The goodness of her heart, that blossomed out 
 In gentle words and unassuming w^ays; 
 In kind unselfish acts and loving smiles. 
 How oft through glade, and glen, and forest-grove, 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 11 
 
 We wandered band in hand; and clambered up 
 Tbe steep bill-sides,to pluck tbe flowers tbat bloomed 
 In sweet unconsciousness of harm, almost 
 Beyond our reach. And then we'd venture on 
 From rugged slope to crag, and file along 
 With slow and cautious step the rocky ledge, 
 Whose top was in the clouds — and, looking dow^n, 
 A yawning chasm, deep, and dark, and still. 
 Was waiting to entomb us. Just beyond 
 This narrow way, a little grassy plat 
 Of wondrous beauty, lay so peacefully 
 Asleep upon the giant mountain's lap. 
 This was our Eden: in this hallowed place 
 The happy hours flew by on wings of joy, 
 And all the year to us was summer-time. 
 'Twas here I told the tale so often told; 
 Here whispered into willing ears my vows; 
 
12 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 And heard from her warm lips these words so dear — 
 "Aloiizo, you are all the world to me!" 
 
 Tims passed one blissful year: a year so full 
 Of sweet endearments, T have wished since then 
 That all the after-time of my poor life 
 Had crowded into that. But soon, alas, 
 Too soon this paradise was lost to me, 
 And my full cup of joy to eartli was dashed! 
 
 One day a stranger came to (xertrude's home: 
 A manly youth of noble form and mien. 
 I did not see his coming, but from her 
 Learned all. A friend, she said, a dear, dear friend 
 Whose home had been for years beyond the sea, 
 And whom she feared would never come again, 
 Was here once more; and she was overjoyed. 
 Her voice was full of gladness, and her face 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 13 
 
 Was all aglow with undisguised delight. 
 
 Ah ! then the demon, Jealousy, began 
 
 To stir within my heart's recesses dark, 
 
 And show its hideous form. How blind and dumb 
 
 Is Jealousy ! How deaf to Keason's voice ! 
 
 One hour before, I could have staked my hopes 
 
 Of heaven upon her constancy and truth ; 
 
 But now a dreadful fear of coming ill 
 
 Crept like a stealthy serpent through my heart. 
 
 A whisper, low at first, but gaining strength 
 
 "With ever}^ syllable it uttered, filled 
 
 The sacred chamber of my inmost soul 
 
 With horrible suspicions undefined. 
 
 Oh, if I had not listened to this voice I 
 
 If I had crushed this viper at its birth, 
 
 Before its fangs had fastened on my heart! 
 
 But now the fountains, once so pure and sweet, 
 
14 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 Are taiMied to bitter waters! Had I known 
 
 The end of this huge folly; only seen 
 
 The fathomless abyss to which it led, 
 
 I would have hurled Suspicion from its throne, 
 
 And blindly trusted in her truth and love. 
 
 To what a depth of ruin one may sink, 
 
 When Passion holds the reins and Reason sleeps! 
 
 We were not oft together from that time; 
 
 But when we chanced to meet, a mild reproof, 
 
 A mute appeal, was in her patient face. 
 
 And her beseeching eyes looked into mine 
 
 With pleading eloquence. Ah, had she then 
 
 But spoken words that trembled on her lips. 
 
 These prison walls would not have been my home. 
 
 I saw him once : that noble countenance 
 Will haunt me to the latest hour of life. 
 'Twas near the close of Autumn ; when the Earth 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 15 
 
 Mourns her departed beauty, and her face 
 
 Is sad and wan ; when melancholy winds 
 
 Are sighing in the pines, and every heart 
 
 In sympathy with nature feels the dread 
 
 Of coming woe. A spirit of unrest 
 
 Had driven me from home that dreary day, 
 
 To wander on the mountain wilds, a prey 
 
 To gloomy thoughts that rankled in my breast — 
 
 Not caring where I went or when I came. 
 
 Or what new dangers lurked beside the way. 
 
 While stupid hours dragged wearily along, 
 
 And lengthening shadows told of night's approach, 
 
 Lonely and sad I climbed the well-known path 
 
 To look once more upon the quiet nook 
 
 So dear to me through all the year gone by. 
 
 And there against the cold, unfeeling rocks 
 
 I leaned my throbbing head, and gave myself 
 
 Away to grief. " Farewell to Eden's bovver ! 
 
16 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 Farewell the hope, the joy, the perfect peace, 
 The overliowing bliss so lately mine. 
 Before its gates were shut and barred to me ! 
 
 Gertrude! Gertrude! can it be the love 
 
 1 gave to thee is cast away so soon ? 
 So soon forgotten all the sacred vows 
 
 And tender scenes these rocks were. witness to?" 
 
 My reverie was broken by the sound 
 
 Of footsteps on the narrow, winding path, 
 
 And voices softly blending in discourse. 
 
 I turned and saw — no need to tell you whom. 
 
 They stopped a moment on the very brink 
 
 Of that precipitous descent — his arm 
 
 Encircling her; and stooping down he pressed 
 
 A kiss upon her upturned lips. Great Heaven ! 
 
 My heart w^as full of frenzied demons then ! 
 
 My brain was all aflame ; and liquid fire 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 17 
 
 Pulsed through my quivering frame. Then Gertrude 
 
 saw 
 And darted quickly forward to my side, 
 While her companion stood in mute surprise. 
 Blinded by rage I rushed upon him there, 
 And with the giant strength that pas^^ion gives, 
 Grappled, and hurled him down that dark abyss. 
 A startled cry, a groan, a dismal crash 
 Among the overhanging shrubs beneath — 
 Then all was still as death in that deep grave. 
 Transfixed and dumb with horror Gertrude stood ; 
 And when the deed was done, one piercing scream 
 Of helpless agony smote the still air, 
 And died away into a piteous moan. 
 
 Too great the dreadful shock — she sank to earth ; 
 Her young life ebbing fast, and all the light 
 
 Fading and dying out in her sweet eyes, 
 
 ft. 
 
18 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 But ere the gentle spirit took its flight, 
 
 In broken accents from lier cold, white lips. 
 
 These words, that went like daggers to the heart, 
 
 And sent a deathly chill through every limb. 
 
 Were faintly breathed : "Alonzo, you have slain 
 
 My only hrother ! " Ah, in terror then 
 
 My heart stood still! I saw myself all stained 
 
 With blood of innocence — a murderer! 
 
 The overpowering sense of wrong, and guilt, 
 
 Crushed me to earth, as if a mighty rock 
 
 Had rolled upon me from the mountain side. 
 
 An awful darkness fell upon me then. 
 
 And all was blank. 
 
 When consciousness returned, 
 The pale, affrighted stars were looking down 
 In pity on the still, white face of her 
 I loved so well and wronged so cruelly. 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 19 
 
 Oh, that she could have seen my anguish then ! 
 But better thus — better that her pure eyes 
 Should nevermore behold my guilty face. 
 I do not care to dwell upon that scene, 
 Or to recall the terrors of that night 
 That time will not efface. Suffice to tell, 
 These locks that were as black as raven's wing, 
 Kext morn were whitened by the frosts of grief. 
 Suffice to tell, I bore the precious form 
 Of my lost Gertrude to her parents' home, 
 And gave the remnant of my wretched life 
 To satisfy the claims of law. 
 
 These truths 
 That follow now from other lips I learned : 
 Some years before a tyrant's hand had robbed 
 This people of the rights and liberties 
 So long enjoyed, and with an iron rod 
 
20 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 Had ruled this land so peaceful hitherto. 
 
 E'ew burdens were imposed; and every day 
 
 The yoke grew more oppressive, till at last 
 
 Endurance groaned, and everywhere a cry 
 
 From overburdened hearts for help arose. 
 
 A little band of heroes met, and sought 
 
 In secret council to devise a plan 
 
 To rid the country of a tyrant's rule. 
 
 Their chieftain was a young man, brave and strong; 
 
 Possessed of manly beauty, and a grace 
 
 That won the love and confidence of all. 
 
 Their numbers grewjthe noble cause gained strength; 
 
 And but for one vile traitor in the ranks. 
 
 These names would doubtless grace the roll of fame. 
 
 But thus betrayed, the cause was lost; the chief 
 
 Forever banished from his native land. 
 
 To pine away and die in hostile clime, 
 
 Forbidden to return on pain of death. 
 
7'HK STORY OF ALONZO. 21 
 
 For years he stayed, and tried to banish thoughts 
 
 Of home and friends; but this was all in vain. 
 
 A wish, that gained new strength from day to day, 
 
 An uncontrollable desire, once more 
 
 To see his native home and loved ones there, 
 
 Drove every thought of danger from his mind. 
 
 He came, and was received with tears of joy 
 
 And thankfulness; and in a few short days 
 
 He would have gone in safety, but a fate 
 
 Untimely met him there — you know the end — 
 
 For this vms Gertrude^s hrothev. 
 
 LEO. 
 
 May I ask. 
 Why Gertrude never told you thia ? 
 
 ALONZO. 
 
 I^o doubt 
 She often tried to tell me, but the words 
 
22 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 Died on her lips. She feared an evil wind 
 Might snatch the secret ere it reached my ear, 
 And carry it away. She meant it well ; 
 I do not chide her now. 
 
 But here am I, 
 A prisoner for life in this lone cell. 
 Aye, if I had a thousand lives to give, 
 Thus, in slow torture, all would not atone 
 For that one crime. In visions and in dreams, 
 The recollection of that monstrous deed 
 Glides like an apparition through my brain. 
 And frightens slumber from my heavy eyes. 
 Oh, that I might but sleep one little hour 
 The sleep of childhood, undisturbed and sweet! 
 Oh, that I might one little moment rest 
 This aching head and weary, weary heart, 
 Upon the bosom of forgetful n ess ! 
 
THE S TO R F OF ALOXZO. 23 
 
 But Conscience will not let my guilty soul 
 Feel once again the blessedness of peace. 
 Is Heaven too far away to hear my prayers? 
 
 LEO. 
 
 i^ot so, Alonzo ! Heaven always stoops 
 To hear the heartfelt prayer of fallen man. 
 
 ALONZO. 
 
 But can the dews of grace bleach my brown soul? 
 
 LEO. 
 
 Grace can do wonders for j^ou even now. 
 Yea, though your sins are scarlet, " they may be 
 As white as snow." Repent and God will save. 
 Return to him and he will wipe your sins, 
 Black though they be as night, forever out. 
 Give all your heart to him and trust his love. 
 
24 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 And then the midnight sorrows of the soul 
 Will fade away and leave your life serene. 
 
 A fortnig-ht passed. Then came a message brief 
 
 From poor Alonzo, praying me to come 
 
 In haste to him. 1 went, and was surprised 
 
 To see so great a change in that short time. 
 
 The hue of health was gone ; he lay so still 
 
 I almost feared he nevermore would speak. 
 
 His face was thin and wan, but in the eyes 
 
 A peaceful, restful, holy light reposed. 
 
 His countenance had lost the haggard look, 
 
 And bore the impress of a mind at rest. 
 
 He grasped my hand, and told in tender tones 
 
 How God had washed away his guilt and shame. 
 
 And filled his soul so full of peace and joy. 
 
 "I had a wondrous dream last night," he said. 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 25 
 
 " I thought an angel visitant had come, 
 And stood beside me here ; then took mj- hand 
 And bade me come. The ponderous door swung back; 
 I followed where he led. A river, dark 
 And deep, lay at our feet; but just beyond 
 Its rolling waves a soft and steady light 
 Marked out a shining path from shore to shore. 
 My guardian angel walked upon the stream, 
 And beckoned me along with outstretched arm. 
 In fear, and awe, and hope I followed on — 
 E^ow sinking in the waves so cold, and now 
 Upheld and strengthened by his help and smile. 
 And as we n eared the silvery pebbled shore, 
 Oh, what a lovely, soul-entrancing scene. 
 Spread far and wide before my wondering gaze ! 
 Only a little of the things beheld 
 And learned in that short time, can I recount. 
 
26 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 "I saw a great white tlyone. There was no sun, 
 
 Or moon ; there were no stars — but there was light, 
 
 As soft as twilight and as clear as noon, 
 
 Sutfused forever through the atmosphere! 
 
 And from the myriads around that throne, 
 
 The^songs and hallelujahs, and the voice 
 
 Of instruments arose, and swelled until 
 
 The air was tremulous with sweet accord. 
 
 And here and there were flocks of snow- white^lambs, 
 
 Safe in their princely Shepherd's tender care. 
 
 Disporting on the verdant slopes of hills, 
 
 Or sipping pleasure from the crystal springs. 
 
 And there were labyrinths of fadelessjbloora 
 
 That never lose their delicate perfumes; 
 
 Where white-robed maidens decked their flowing 
 
 hair. 
 Or strolled in blissful leisure by the streams " 
 Of living waters, on whose velvet banks 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 27 
 
 "Were spreading trees that never drop their leaves; 
 
 Andwhere,tlirough endless spring and summer-time, 
 
 The songsters never weary in their praise. 
 
 And seas of living verdure stretched away, 
 
 As far as eye could reach or fancy fly. 
 
 And there were undulating hills and plains; 
 
 Wide valleys, interspersed with spicy groves; 
 
 Delicious gardens, full of luscious fruits; 
 
 And lovely dells, and grottoes, quiet nooks. 
 
 And waterfalls, and lakes as clear as glass. 
 
 "A countless multitude drew near to us — 
 There was my Gertrude, waiting on the shore 
 To welcome me — her cheeks no longer pale. 
 As when she faded, like a tender plant. 
 So suddenly away one awful night; 
 But she was beautiful and lovely now. 
 Beyond the power of language to express. 
 
•28 THE STORY OF ALONZO. 
 
 " The summer glories of that wondrous clime 
 Beamed in her face, aud sparkled in her eyes; 
 And the exquisite grandeur of that home 
 Endowed her perfect form with queenly grace. 
 She took my hand — the shock of joy so great 
 Dissolved the blissful spell, and I awoke. 
 
 "It was a dream, but more than a mere dream- 
 A premonition that my time is near; 
 A welcome message from my Father's house, 
 To come and sliare the blessedness of home. 
 I know in whom I trust and am content. 
 If such were mine, I gladly would exchange 
 The grandest palace that the world contains, 
 To realize one hour my happy dream." 
 
 His voice had softened to a whisper low, 
 The up-turned eyes were fixed, in earnest gaze 
 
THE STORY OF ALONZO. 29 
 
 Upon some scene of beauty far away; 
 And then I saw that on his pallid brow 
 The dews of death were falling, and I knew 
 The change that comes to all had come to him. 
 O wonderful exchange ! a gloomy cell 
 For infinite abodes of light and joy. 
 That dream was rtal now ; and hand in hand 
 Alonzo walked with Gertrude on the shore. 
 
 
THE CHKISTIAN'S HOME. 
 
 EYOND the restless sea of life, 
 The busy scenes of toil and strife ; 
 Beyond the swelling tide of woes. 
 There is a land of sweet repose — 
 A home above the starry blue, 
 Where weary pilgrims, tried and true, 
 Find rest, secure from every ill, 
 In pastures green, by waters still. 
 
 While here within the vale of tears. 
 Grief maketh sad the heart; and fears 
 And shadows come, and doubts and pains- 
 There, in that home of light, peace reigns. 
 There streams of endless pleasure roll 
 In waves of gladness through the soul; 
 
THE CHRISTIAN' S HOME. 31 
 
 And every want is well supplied, 
 And every wish is gratified. 
 
 1^0 mortal eye liath ever seen 
 
 Its lovely vales of living green, 
 
 Its crystal streams and radiant plains : 
 
 1^0 ear hatli ever caught the strains 
 
 Of wondrous melodies, that thrill 
 
 The souls of the redeemed, and fill 
 
 The air of that delicious clime 
 
 With tones of joy and praise sublime. 
 
 Loved ones whom we have lost are there, 
 With crowns of gold, in garments fair, 
 Waiting to take us by the hand 
 And show us all that beauteous land. 
 There weary feet will tire no more, 
 There sorrow, pain and death are o'er; 
 
32 THE CHRISTIAN'S HOME. 
 
 And all is peace, and joy, and love. 
 In that delightful home above. 
 
 And can it be, the heart still clings 
 
 To earth, and all its paltry things? 
 
 Can we prefer its sordid gains, 
 
 To treasures where our Savior reigns? 
 
 The Christian's home ! oh, who would miss 
 
 Its pure delights, its perfect bliss? 
 
 Who would not strive to enter there. 
 
 And all its dearest blessings share ? 
 
A FRIEND INDEED. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 HEN" skies are softly beaming, 
 And days are bright and long ; 
 When life to ns is seeming 
 A garden full of song — 
 
 Though time may pass unheeded, 
 And Pleasure's cup be sweet. 
 
 One Friend at least is needed, 
 To make our joys complete. 
 
 When days are dark and dreary. 
 And nights so slowly end; 
 
 When sad the heart, and weary. 
 Ah ! then we need a Friend. 
 
34 A FRIEND INDEED. 
 
 Some one to soothe our sorrow, 
 And check the bitter tears; 
 
 Some one from whom to borrow 
 Hope, for the coming years. 
 
 But dearest friends may fail us, - 
 On whom our hearts are stayed; 
 
 And Brutus-like assail us 
 
 When most we need their aid. 
 
 There is a Friend, however, 
 In whom we may conlide : 
 
 He will forsake us never, 
 Whatever ills betide. 
 
 One who will cheer our sadness 
 In darkest hours of need ; 
 
 One who will share our gladness — 
 This is a Friend indeed 1 
 
A FRIEND INDEED, 36 
 
 He only can defend us 
 
 From Satan's cruel power; 
 He only can befriend us 
 
 In Death's momentous hour. 
 
 Strength, meekness, pity tender 
 
 In this dear Person blend — 
 Our Savior ! our Defender ! 
 
 Our gentle, loving Friend ! 
 
WHIP-POOR-WILL. 
 
 SPRmG-TIME (lay of rarest grace 
 \4^^ Has passed away. A holy calm 
 Rests like a smile on I^ature's face, 
 • And Evening's breath is full of balm. 
 
 On such an eve, when Twilight's hour 
 
 Repose to wearied ISTature brings ; 
 When other birds in leafy bower. 
 
 In sweet contentment fold their wings; 
 The whip-poor-will, in lone retreats, 
 
 Takes up his weird and plaintful song, 
 And to the night, in trust repeats. 
 
 Mysterious hints of helpless wrong. 
 
WHIP-POOR-WILL. 
 
 Hark! hear that trill 
 On yonder hill — 
 
 The cry of the lonely whip-poor-will; 
 Coming so suddenly, wild and shrill, 
 From the forest still : 
 " Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! " 
 
 And hast thou suffered wrong, lone one, 
 
 From ruthless hands or cruel Fate? 
 To love, to cheer thee, are there none? 
 
 Hast thou no home ? no gentle mate ? 
 Or dost thou stay so long awake 
 
 Some sad and lonely watch to keep? 
 What dreams thy fitful slumbers break, 
 
 While other birds so sweetly sleep ? 
 
 Hark ! hear again ; 
 
 That plaintful strain 
 
 Falls on the ear as a cry of pain, 
 
 37 
 
WHIP-P OOP- WILL. 
 
 Startling the echoes that lie so still 
 On the neighboring hill — 
 ^' Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! " 
 
 What means that strange complaining cry? 
 
 Oh, who has dared to wrong thee so? 
 How was it done? and when? and why? 
 
 Pray tell me all I wish to know. 
 What ! Whip poor Will ? Why whip him when 
 
 He claims thy pity ? Hath he erred ? 
 Thy pity is uncalled-for, then — 
 
 Thou art an inconsistent bird. 
 
 Again that cry, 
 From the hill-top high, 
 Comes gliding down as from the sky ; 
 On the air of night now growing chill, 
 Through the darkness still — 
 " Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! " 
 
WHIP-POOR-WILL. 39 
 
 I speak unwisely — thou art right! 
 
 Mercy with justice e'er should go; 
 And when the chast'ning rod doth smite, 
 
 Pity should gently heal the blow. 
 There is a sermon in thy song — 
 
 Condemn the sin, the sinner treat 
 With love! May I remember long, 
 
 O noble bird, thy lesson sweet. 
 
 Lone whip-poor-will, 
 
 Now once more thrill 
 
 The ear with thy so piteous trill — 
 
 Hushed is that voice ; forsaken and still 
 
 Is the shadowy hill. 
 
 Farewell, whip-poor-will ! 
 
WELCOME TO SPRIISTG. 
 
 INTER'S reign is broken, 
 
 Surely broken; 
 Blue birds gave the token 
 
 That the time was near. 
 Nature's pulse is beating, 
 
 Quicker beating; 
 At the tender greeting 
 
 Of the Spring so dear. 
 
 Chorus — Hail! lovely Spring, 
 Thy praise we sing. 
 In song and rhyme, 
 And merry chime. 
 Let everything 
 Welcome the Spring. 
 
WELCOME TO SPRING. 41 
 
 Spring-time's morn is breaking, 
 
 Brightly breaking; 
 Earth is just awaking 
 
 From her long repose. 
 Brooks have found their voices, 
 
 Silvery voices; 
 Every rill rejoices, 
 
 Dancing as it goes. 
 
 Happy birds are singing. 
 
 Sweetly singing; 
 Joyous notes are ringing 
 
 Through the dreamy air. 
 Tender buds are swelling. 
 
 Gently swelling; 
 Everything is telling 
 
 That the Spring is here. 
 
42 WELCOME TO SPRING. 
 
 Zephyrs coy are playing, 
 
 Softly playing; 
 Sunbeams bright are straying 
 
 Over all the ground. 
 Grasses sweet are growing, 
 
 Greener growing; 
 Genial Spring is sowing 
 Blessings all around. 
 
 Chorus — Hail ! lovely Spring, 
 Thy praise we sing. 
 In song and rhyme, 
 And merry chime, 
 Let everything 
 Welcome the Spring. 
 
ISLE OF INNOCENCE. 
 
 HAT wretched man, 
 So sad and wan, 
 From whom you would, perchance, in terror flee, 
 Was once a babe upon his mother's knee! 
 A pure, sweet babe that knew not how to sigh ; 
 That looked for heaven in his mother's eye. 
 And thought no bliss was equal to her smile — 
 A laughing child, so free from sin and guile. 
 
 Alas! Alas! those days are gone; and now 
 Guilt sits enthroned upon his troubled brow. 
 His home was on an island, small and fair; 
 . And well for him if he had tarried there. 
 A boat once launched on that mysterious shore 
 
44 ISLE OF I NNOCENCE. 
 
 Was gone to sea forever — nevermore 
 Could it return, l^o arm, however stout, 
 Could stem that current ever flowing out. 
 It was a happy home, where flowers bloom 
 Throughout the j^ear; where birds of gorgeous plume 
 Made every grove a paradise of song, 
 And summer days went dreamily along. 
 Heaven smiled serenely on his morning way, 
 And angel visitants came every day. 
 
 A few exotic plants of beauty rare. 
 
 Depended on his culture and his care; 
 
 But growing tired of tending gentle fl^owers, 
 
 He wandered one day from those quiet bowers, 
 
 Only a little distance, where the breeze 
 
 Invited to the shade of spreading trees. 
 
 The Tempter met him there with winning smile, 
 
 And with such words as these did soon beguile 
 
ISLE OF INNOCENCE. 45 
 
 His yielding heart : 
 
 ''Come, youth, and go with me! 
 
 'Tis pleasant on the sea. 
 
 The boundless seal 
 
 Why should you spend your time 
 
 In this insipid clime, 
 
 And waste your youthful hours 
 
 In nursing sickly Howers? 
 
 Oh, come and sail with me!" 
 He follow^ed him — too eager for the change; 
 Longing for other scenes beyond his range — 
 Through vales enchanting,meadows fresh and green, 
 Led by a way along a murmuring stream,' 
 Down to the shore, and to a waiting boat. 
 And though a fear of evil doubtless smote 
 This youth, he faltered not — a moment stood, 
 Then launched to sea. Their bark the hungry flood 
 Caught up and carried helplessly away. 
 
46 IShE OF INNOCENCE. 
 
 And must he perish? must he ever stray? 
 
 To that blest island can he nevermore 
 
 Return, and be v^^hat he was once before? 
 
 Oh, must he listen, hopeless, to the roar 
 
 Of angry billows, guarding all that shore — 
 
 A wandering waif upon the sea of sin? 
 
 i^o, there is hope and mercy yet for him ! 
 
 There is a world beyond these restless waves, 
 
 Where sorrow can not come; and where no graves 
 
 Were ever made — a place where guilt and fear 
 
 Are never known, and every lingering tear 
 
 Is wiped away. A ship of noble form 
 
 Is on this sea, out-riding every storm; 
 
 Searching for wrecks wherever they may be, 
 
 And giving all who will a passage free 
 
 To that safe port of peace not far away — 
 
 The blessed realm of everlasting day. 
 
IlSr MEMORIAM. 
 
 IFE has grown dark — 
 A mother — faithful, tender, kind; 
 A friend as true as friend can be ; 
 An earnest Christian almost free 
 From faults is gone. Where could Death find 
 A brighter mark? 
 
 Our grief is deep. 
 Friends have performed the last sad rites — 
 Her body sleeps beneath the sod, 
 Her spirit has returned to God; 
 And through the lonesome days and nights 
 We mourn and weep. 
 
48 IN MEMO R I A M. 
 
 Our hearts are sore. 
 How lone, how desolate the place ! 
 Can this be home, since she is gone? 
 What is there left to look upon, 
 Since that dear form and that pure face 
 Are here no more ? 
 
 Heavy the cross. 
 We sadly miss her counsel sweet, 
 
 That often kept our hearts from guile- 
 Her gentle voice and loving smile; 
 Her Christian graces so complete — 
 How great the loss ! 
 
 Our sorrow grows. 
 There is the empty chair, where oft 
 She sat and read the Book of Truth, 
 So dearly loved from early youth ; 
 
IN MEMO RI AM. 49 
 
 And there, in accents sweet and soft, 
 Her hymns arose. 
 
 Our loss, her. gain. 
 We deeply mourn, but God can see 
 
 What's best. Though sorrow-stricken now, 
 Submissive to his will we bow. 
 He gave, he took, and blessed be 
 His holy name. 
 
 
ALMOST PERSUADED. 
 
 LMOST persuaded ! Tremblingly he stops, 
 
 >^y Entangled in a maze of doubt and fear; 
 Self-righteousness, and all his weakly props, 
 
 Are failing now. He knows there's danger near, 
 And feels that suddenly the gathering storms 
 
 Of wrath divine may sweep the plains of sin; 
 And that on every side the mountain forms 
 
 Of God's endearing love are near to him. 
 And yet he hesitates, and will not flee 
 
 To them for safety. Well he knows the ground 
 On which he stands is insecure; and he 
 
 Can see the waves of retribution round 
 Him higher rise, and yet he will not make 
 
 An effort to escape. Long he has braved 
 The danger; still he waits, and will not take 
 
ALMOST PERSUADED. 61 
 
 The outstretched hand of Jesus, atid be saved. 
 The World and Satan tr}^ to hold him back ; 
 
 Friends, guardian angels, and the-still small voice 
 Entreat him to go on. A mental rack 
 
 That trembling soul endures who makes no choice. 
 Almost persuaded sinner, why not solve 
 
 Without delay the problem of your fate? 
 A bold, decisive step — a firm resolve — 
 
 Trusting in God, and you are safe. Then wait 
 ^N'ot for a more convenient time or place. 
 
 Beneath your feet eternal burnings lie, 
 And, turning back, death stares you in the face — 
 
 Go quickly forward ! to the Savior fly ! 
 
 Oh, slight not the voice that is pleading to-day ! 
 
 Oh, grieve not the Spirit, so gentle, away! 
 Lest the harvest should pass, and the summer be o'er, 
 
 And these tender entreaties be heard nevermore. 
 
FULLY PEESUADED. 
 
 ) ^ m^ ^^OW that Jesus gave 
 
 His precious life, to save 
 My soul from endless woe. 
 
 He calls to me to-day ; 
 
 There's danger in delay, 
 I am resolved to go. 
 
 So oft by sins distressed. 
 So oft by fears depressed, 
 
 Why should I longer wait? 
 To wait might be to fail — 
 Then mine the bitter wail, 
 
 "Not saved! too late, too late!" 
 
FULLY PERSUADED. 53 
 
 My hopes are insecure; 
 Why should I still endure 
 
 Suspense and vague alarm? 
 I will no longer doubt, 
 Xo longer be without 
 
 A refuge from the storm. 
 
 False Tempter, go thy way! 
 Henceforth I trust I may 
 
 Refuse to hear thy voice. 
 Stay, gentle Spirit, stay ! 
 Permit me not to stray. 
 
 Support me in my choice. 
 
 Fully persuaded ! now 
 I take the solemn vow, 
 
 That binds me, Lord, to thee. 
 Fully persuaded : Oh, 
 
54 FULLY PERSUADED. 
 
 What joy it is to know 
 Mj soul from guilt is free ! 
 
 For thy great love to me, 
 So wonderful, so free, 
 
 This is my offering — small, 
 Weak, trifling though it be : 
 Here, Lord, I give to thee 
 
 My heart, my life, my all. 
 
AUTUMJSr. 
 
 lATURE'S mood is meditative: 
 Silence reigns on every hill : 
 Peaceful, tranquil all the landscape, 
 All the air is mute and still. 
 
 Faintly sigh the lazy streamlets : 
 Birds forget their cheerful lays — 
 
 Sitting lonely, sadly thinking 
 Of the lost, long Sunlmer days. 
 
 Autumn comes : the sleepy sunbeams 
 Lose their way through misty skies 
 
 While the shadow of her presence 
 On the distant valley lies. 
 
66 AUTUMN. 
 
 Autumn comes: the pensive maiden, 
 Daughter of the Summer dear : 
 
 She who has within her keeping- 
 Golden bounties of the year. 
 
 Robed in garments, rich and gorgeous, 
 
 With a face of cahn repose; 
 Thoughtful, silent, moving slowly, 
 
 Up and down the earth she goes. 
 
 She is ever melancholy ; 
 
 Seldom smiles, but often sighs : 
 And the light comes soft and hazy 
 
 From her languid, dreamy eyes. 
 
 Through the fields, and through the woodlands. 
 
 All along the sober streams, 
 Quiet, listless, she is wandering. 
 
 Half awake and half in dreams. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 57 
 
 Surely she has known some sorrow 
 That no other heart may know ; 
 
 Some great grief has cast its shadow^ 
 In the way that she must go. 
 
 
LOVE'S TEIBUTE. 
 
 IS pleasant now and then, with half-closed eyes 
 To dream a day-dream of the time, dear wife, 
 When first nnited in love's holiest ties. 
 We sailed together down the stream of life. 
 
 How real then was love's delicious dream ! 
 How light our hearts, and free from cares and fears ! 
 The future bright with promise, and the stream 
 Bearing us smoothly on to coming years. 
 
 But as the years sped on tliey brought us fears 
 To temper hope; sorrow to go with joy : 
 Sunshine and sliadow, mingled smiles and tears. 
 Alternately to comfort and annoy. 
 
LOVE'S TRIBUTE. 59 
 
 And this was well : the higher, nobler forms 
 Of earthly bliss are not all peace and joy. 
 The air would be impure without the storms, 
 And precious metals need their base alloy. 
 
 And yet, though skies are something changeful now, 
 And winds are sometimes rude^ though youth has 
 
 flown, 
 And cares have left their mark upon the brow — 
 Our love has deeper, purer, stronger grown. 
 
 Without thy presence, life it seems would be 
 As dark as night when friendly lights depart. 
 Only the Savior who redeemeth rae. 
 Can claim a larger portion of my heart. 
 
CHERUB WAIFS. 
 
 PEAELY gate, thej say, 
 S^y Is left ajar sometimes, 
 By angels on their way 
 To visit other climes. 
 
 A cherub seeing this. 
 
 Left oft* its happy pla}^ 
 
 And strolled in thoughtless bliss 
 
 Outside the gate one day. 
 
 It soon was gone. 
 In joy and mirth 
 It wandered on 
 From star to star, 
 
CHERUB WAIFS. 61 
 
 Through space afar 
 Until it came to earth. 
 
 We took this stranger in — 
 This waif without a name : 
 So small and free from sin — 
 
 So tired and weak 
 
 It could not speak 
 To tell us whence it came. 
 
 Then, after years had flown, 
 Once more a cherub form 
 Came helpless to our home : 
 
 Another dove 
 
 For us to love 
 And shelter from the storm. 
 These two, we know not why. 
 To us were loaned — not given. 
 
62 
 
 CHERUB WAIFS 
 
 God wants them by and by : 
 
 Then, any day 
 
 The angels may 
 Convey them home to heaven. 
 
SNOW-BIRDS. 
 
 jbw the snow-birds, to and fro, 
 Trip so lightly o'er the snow ; 
 Hearts so brave are beating warm, 
 And they care not for the storm. 
 Tripping lightly o'er the snow, 
 Chirping sweetly, talking low, 
 Little snow-birds come and go. 
 
 Many a tribe a home have sought 
 
 Where the snow-storm cometh not ; 
 
 But the faithful snow-birds stay, 
 
 Cheering us upon our way. 
 
 Tripping lightly o'er the snow, 
 Chirping sweetly, talking low, 
 Friendly snow-birds come and go, 
 
64 SNOW-BIRDS. 
 
 Many birds have idle time, 
 In their sunny, southern clime ; 
 These, so busy all the day, 
 Find no time to waste away. 
 
 Tripping lightly o'er the snow, 
 Chirping sweetly, talking low, 
 Sprightly snow-birds come and go. 
 
 Busy, busy doing good. 
 Working for their daily food. 
 Making sunshine while they go 
 Barefoot through the winter snow. 
 Tripping lightly o'er the snow, 
 Chirping sweetly, talking low, 
 Happy snow-birds come and go. 
 
 Bearing bravely with their lot, 
 Patient, cheerful, murmuring not, 
 
SNOW-BIRDS, 
 
 66 
 
 Though so few their comforts be — 
 Like the snow-birds, oh may we, 
 Patiently our way pursue. 
 Cheerfully our duty do, 
 With a purpose strong and true ! 
 
THE SUMMEK RAINS. 
 
 in, the pleasant summer rain ! 
 i^^ Coming from the distant main, 
 Falling softly, as a strain, 
 In a sweet, subdued refrain ! 
 Thankfully the liow'rs look up, 
 Holding each its little cup, 
 To be filled again, again. 
 By the gentle summer rain ! 
 
 Oh, the joyous summer rain ! 
 Dancing down the grassy lane, 
 Peeping through the window pane. 
 Laughing in a roguish vein ; 
 Dropping with a merry sound, 
 Sparkling pearls upon the ground — 
 
THE SUMMER RAINS. 67 
 
 We should never once complain 
 Of the joyous summer rain! 
 
 Oh, the boisterous summer rain ! 
 Dashing, rushing like a train, 
 Over hill and over plain. 
 Over fields of waving grain. 
 How it clatters on the roofs, 
 Like a thousand tiny hoofs. 
 Like a host of sprites insane — 
 Oh, the boisterous summer rain ! 
 
THE PILGETM. 
 
 [O resting-place for the pilgrim is here, 
 For a straijger he is in this wilderness drear ; 
 He has no abiding city in time; 
 ]^o palace could hold him; he knows of a clime 
 In a far distant land — no longer to roam. 
 His rest will be sweet when he reaches his home ! 
 
 No rest for him here, but with staif in his hand 
 
 He seeks for his home in that beautiful laud. 
 
 His hands are employed, but his thoughts are not 
 
 here, 
 For they wander away to that pure, sunny sphere 
 Where his kind Father dwells ; and his friends gone 
 
 before 
 Are waiting for him when his journey is o'er. 
 
THE PILGRIM. 69 
 
 Along the straight path and the narrow he goes, 
 Through burning deserts of sorrows and woes ; 
 Cool fountains invite him, and shady retreats, 
 But he turns not aside, for he seeks higher seats 
 In the palace of God; in realms bright as day. 
 There to bask in the smiles of his Savior for aye. 
 
 And now he has come to that dread rivers brink ; 
 From its dark rolling tide will his mortal heart 
 
 shrink ? 
 No ! over the waters, all golden and light, 
 The beautiful city arises in sight ! 
 And above the roar of the hungry flood' 
 He hears angels singing their praises to God. 
 
HIS FIRST LOVE. 
 
 ^WraHE story of his first — his onl}^ love — 
 %^^ So long since dead, 
 
 He told to me in simple words ; and this 
 Was what he sr\id : 
 
 " She was a little girl when first we met, 
 
 So fair and small ! 
 I was some taller than my dog, and she 
 
 N"ot quite so tall. 
 
 "I^ot far away, across the meadow stood 
 
 An humble cot, 
 Festoon'd with creeping vines. To me there was 
 
 No lovelier spot. 
 
> 
 
 HIS FIRST LOVE. 71 
 
 '^And there she dwelt — I need not tell her name — 
 
 Suffice to say 
 It rhymed with fairy. Should you care to know, 
 
 You surely may. 
 
 '^And childhood's sports, and childhood's rainbow 
 hopes. 
 
 We loved to share ; 
 And oft together we would plan and build 
 
 Castles in the air. 
 
 "And hand in hand we strolled through fields and 
 woods, 
 
 In quest of flowers. 
 The summer days passed on so pleasantly, 
 
 They seemed but hours. 
 
 " Her voice was low and gentle as the dove's ; 
 Her face so fair ! 
 
72 HIS FIRST LOVE. 
 
 '^ The home of wandering' threads of golden light 
 Her tresses were. 
 
 "How fast she grew ! how beautiful and good! 
 
 For earth too good ; 
 And so God took her, just upon the verge 
 
 Of womanhood. 
 
 "You ask me if I loved this gentle maid? 
 
 I only say, 
 When near her I was happy ; only sad 
 
 When far away. 
 
 " I do not boast to you that she loved me ; 
 
 But this I know, 
 That she was joyous when I came — demure 
 
 When I would go. 
 
HIS FIRST LOVE. 73 
 
 "And when they laid her in the tomh, and hid 
 
 That form from view, 
 It seemed to me that in her grave my heart 
 
 Was buried too. 
 
 "We chose for her a quiet resting-place 
 
 Within a dell. 
 A mossy stone now marks the hallowed spot 
 
 Where she sleeps well." 
 
DISHEAETENED--A FRAGMENT. 
 
 AKE courage, Claudius ! The darkest eloud 
 May quickly pass, or be dissolved in light. 
 There is an end to every earthly ill. 
 The Winter of affliction and distress 
 Will for a season hold its gloomy sway, 
 And then the blue-bird notes of liope and joy 
 May thrill the pulses of thy heart again. 
 Be patient, friend; the road is very long 
 That has no turning-point. Hope on! hope on! 
 Thy path so narrow and so rugged now, 
 May lose itself in verdure and in bloom. 
 
 Ah no, Horatio, this can never be — 
 Can never, never be! for Hope is gone, 
 
DISHEARTENED— A FRAGMENT. 75 
 
 And I will see her snowy wings no more. 
 Spring-time may come to you, and all the world, 
 But not to me; for you the birds may sing. 
 The flowers bloom, but not for me. Alas! 
 The voices of the Spring will nevermore 
 Awaken echoes in my lonely heart. 
 There must the Winter of regrets remain. 
 Remorseful winds sweep o'er neglected wastes, 
 And moan and sob among the naked groves, 
 Where lie so many faded, fallen leaves, 
 Nipped by untimely frosts. I see it all — 
 The truth stands out so painfully distinct — 
 My life has been a failure too complete. 
 These weary eyes look back with hopeless gaze 
 Over the desert stretch of wasted years. 
 And far away upon the dreary sea. 
 Where drift the helpless wrecks of ruined hopes. 
 Where now are all the plans, and high resolves; 
 
76 DISHEARTENED— A FRAGMENT, 
 
 The noble purposes that fired my heart? 
 Alas, all gone! The sun will set in gloom: 
 And my poor, disappointed life will end 
 In darkness and despair! * * * 
 
LINES ON THE DEATH OF A SISTER. 
 
 > 
 
 '4 
 
 WAS almost morn : around her little bed, 
 We silent watch were keeping; 
 So low our whispered words, so soft our tread, 
 We seemed but shadows, creeping. 
 
 With some relief, and yet with restless dread, 
 
 We watched her troubled sleeping : 
 And if, at times, rebellious tears were shed, 
 
 There was a cause for weeping. 
 
 For well we knew too soon that other sleep. 
 
 So long, and deep, and dreamless. 
 Would still her breathing, o'er her fair face creep. 
 
 And make those bright eyes beamless. 
 
78 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A SISTER. 
 
 And many heartfelt prayers went trembling up 
 
 From bosoms, aching, smarting; 
 That God would give us grace to drink the cup — 
 
 The bitter cup of parting. 
 
 She needed not our prayers ; God's peace, so true, 
 
 So sweet, to her was given : 
 And she had nothing more that night to do 
 
 But sleep — and wake in Heaven. 
 
SWEET SOMETIME. 
 
 N the heart there dwells a fond belief, 
 To which we cliug from day to day; 
 That a time will come when care and grief, 
 As a clond will pass forever away. 
 
 Chorus — Oh when, oh when, will that time be here — 
 That sweet sometime of joy complete? 
 We long to breathe its balmy air; 
 We long to rest our weary feet ! 
 
 Of that time we muse, and fancies take 
 Their forms and hues from what it seems: 
 
 And we watch and wait for morn to break. 
 After the night of sorrowful dreams. 
 
80 SWEET SOMETIME. 
 
 Is it coming soon, that sometime fair, 
 For which we hope and wait so long — 
 
 With its soft sunny skies, its beauties rare, 
 
 "With its wealth of joy, and treasures of song? 
 
 Will it ever come — that better time ? 
 
 The pure in heart are sure of this: 
 Of a home beyond earth's changing clime. 
 
 In that sweet sometime of wondrous bliss. 
 
 Chorus — Oh when, oh when, will that time be here — 
 That sweet sometime of joy complete? 
 We long to breathe its balmy air; 
 We long to rest our weary feet! 
 
THAT DREAM. 
 
 OU told me of a dream that came 
 To you the other night — 
 A charming dream : this is the same, 
 If memory is right. 
 
 You slept, but Fancy still worked on, 
 And wove a pleasant dream : 
 
 It seemed that you were out upon 
 A winding, placid stream. 
 
 The boat was large enough for two, 
 
 And smoothly did it glide 
 Over the waters, clear and blue, 
 
 And I was by your side. 
 
82 THAT DREAM. 
 
 The trees in groups, and stately rows, 
 
 Stood close along the banks; 
 And birds upon theiii pendent boughs 
 
 Sang joyous songs of thanks. 
 
 And here and there the grassy slopes 
 
 Came down to bathe their feet : 
 Summer had come, with smiles and hopes, 
 
 And all the air was sweet. 
 
 The softest light was in the sky, 
 
 And gentle every breeze; 
 As with the current you and I 
 
 Glided among the trees. 
 
 Shall I the meaning of your dream 
 
 Try to interpret now ? 
 Though some things are not what they seem. 
 
 It must be this I trow : 
 
THAT DREAM. 
 
 83 
 
 The boat just large enough for two, 
 N^o doubt means wedded life : 
 
 The stream is Time — now therefore you 
 Will surely be my wife. 
 
WHAT THEN? 
 
 UR lives are frail and fleeting, 
 As bubbles on the wave : 
 And every heart is beating 
 A quick-step to tVie grave. 
 
 Where is thy pathway tending? — 
 Over life's hills and slopes— 
 
 And what will be the ending 
 Of all thy plans and hopes? 
 
 Oh, when life's dream is over, 
 And all its joys are fled; 
 
 Will angels love to hover 
 Around thy dying bed? 
 
WHA T THEN. 86 
 
 Are wealth and worldly pleasures 
 
 Thy fond ambition's goal? 
 Ah ! shoulds't thou gain earth's treasures 
 
 And lose thy priceless soul — 
 
 What then ? Will gold requite thee 
 
 For such a fearful loss ? 
 Let higher aims incite thee — 
 
 The crown is worth the cross ! 
 
 A voice of love is pleading, 
 
 In accents low and sweet : 
 Oh, trust the Spirit's leading, 
 
 To guide thy wandering feet ! 
 
 Wait not until to-morrow 
 
 Thy peace with Heaven to make — 
 Lest sudden, hopeless sorrow 
 
 Thy soul should overtake. 
 
A FAIRY TALE OF SPEING. 
 
 PRIl!TGr, the sweet and winsome beauty, 
 She the coy, the wayward, playful, 
 Loving, tender-hearted maiden ; 
 Charming as a dream of childhood. 
 With a smile upon her young face, 
 And a love-light in her blue eye, 
 And a grace in every movement. 
 Trips along o'er barren landscapes, 
 Singing sweetly, singing gayly : 
 " I am coming, I am coming. 
 Look up, Nature, oh, be joyful ! 
 I will bring the sunshine to you, 
 I will bring you pleasant showers. 
 Balmy zephyrs, birds and flowers. 
 
A FA TRY TALK OF SPRING. 87 
 
 "Cheer up, woodlands! I will give you 
 Softest verdure for a carpet; 
 Clothe your naked limbs with garments, 
 Deck them with the greenest chaplets— 
 Make you rich with clustering foliage." 
 
 ^ow she calls the ruddy sunbeams : 
 " Come, ye bright and genial sunbeams, 
 With your radiant faces smiling; 
 Dance all through the air and make it 
 Pleasant, balmy, soft and dreamy ; 
 Rest upon the earth, and warm it 
 Into fruitfulness and verdure ; 
 Seek the dead and buried Howers, 
 W^ke them from their sleep and bring them 
 Up into the light of Heaven. 
 Bring the grasses from their snow-graves, 
 Whisper words of promise to them; 
 
88 A FAIRY TALE OF SPRING. 
 
 " Put the hearts of plants in motion, 
 Make them throb, and send their life-blood 
 Up through palsied stems and branches ; 
 Till the low shrubs in the gardens. 
 And the great trees in the forest, 
 Waking from their sleep so death-like, 
 Gather leaf, and bud, and blossom. 
 Come, ye fruitful, gentle showers, 
 Haste and help the genial sunbeams ; 
 Go before, or follow after — 
 Help to clothe the earth with beauty, 
 That the heart of every creature 
 May rejoice and praise its Maker ; 
 That the Earth, as well as Heaven, 
 May declare his wondrous glory." 
 
 And the sunbeams, warm and cheerful, 
 From their home of light and splendor, 
 
A FAIRY TALE OF SPRING. 89 
 
 In their golden chariots hasten, 
 Light upon the Earth, and make it, 
 With their kisses and caresses. 
 Warm and genial, green and fruitful ; 
 Decking it with flowers and verdure. 
 And the showers, gently, kindly. 
 From their misty homes in cloud-land. 
 Come in tiny drops and vanish. 
 Falling like a benediction 
 Softly on the fields and meadows. 
 
 i^ow the sweet and winsome beauty 
 Stands upon the highest hill-top. 
 Calling all the wandering birds back; 
 Calling in the tenderest accents. 
 Wooing them with words of kindness; 
 Come, birds of every feather, 
 Ye whom cruel Winter banished 
 
90 A FAIRY TALE OF SPFIN&. 
 
 "From your native home and climate. 
 Winter now is gone, ye need not 
 Fear his angry looks or gestures : 
 Come hack to your empty houses, 
 Come back to your homes forsaken, 
 They are very sad without you : 
 Come and bring your music with you, 
 For I wish to gladden Mature; 
 She lias long been melancholy." 
 
 And the birds in far-oft* climates. 
 Hear the voice of Spring so tender. 
 Calling to them in the distance — 
 And they haste on Hashing pinions 
 To obe}^ the welcome bidding; 
 Wing their wa}' with hope and gladness, 
 Singing on their homeward journey. 
 Then she calls the gentle Zephyrs: 
 
A FAIRY TALE OF SPRING. 91 
 
 " Come, ye Zephyrs, mild and pleasant. 
 Ye, whose steps are light as snow-flakes 
 Falling on the river's bosom ; 
 And whose tones are low and lisping, 
 As the soothing voice of love is — 
 Come ye, from your hiding-places. 
 Play upon the cheeks of maidens. 
 As they wander forth at evening — 
 In and out among their tresses. 
 Kiss their lips and tell them secrets ; 
 Cheer their hearts and make them merry 
 After such a cruel Winter." 
 
 And the Zephyrs, gentle, timid, 
 Half afraid, yet ever willing, 
 Hear the voice of Spring, and softly 
 From their secret hiding-places. 
 Come on tiptoe at her bidding ; 
 
92 A FAIRY TALE OF SPRING, 
 
 Glide about from hill to valley, 
 Talking in a low, sweet whisper. 
 Playing on the cheeks of maidens, 
 In and out among their tresses. 
 As they wander forth at evening. 
 
 Thus the ministers of Spring-time 
 Cheerfully obey her bidding: 
 Up and down on every hill-side. 
 To and fro through every valley. 
 Filling Earth with life and beauty. 
 Ever greener grows the landscape. 
 And the timid Howers are peeping, 
 And the tender grass is creeping, 
 Up to meet the loving sunshine. 
 I^Tow the mellow air is ringing 
 With the notes of joyous singing; 
 While in warden and in forest 
 
A FA TRY TALE OF SPRING. 93 
 
 Tender buds begin to venture,* 
 
 Out into the air invitins". 
 
 And the loving sunbeams kiss them 
 
 Till they grow suffused with blushes. 
 
 In the forests, thicker, greener, 
 
 Grow the clusters of the leaflets, 
 
 Till the limbs and twigs are hidden 
 
 With their new and handsome garments ; 
 
 And the landscape now is gorgeous 
 
 With its wealth of living verdure. 
 
 Thus the gentle, winsome beauty, 
 She, the Queen of all the seasons, 
 Yearly comes to Earth, and scatters 
 Smiles and blessings all around her. 
 
HOME AT LAST. 
 
 E is gone! that good, that aged man 
 
 Has laid his feeble body down to sleep: 
 The sleep that makes all mortals look so wan — 
 And friends, bereaved, stand round his bed and 
 weep. 
 
 Long did that patriarch stay: years went and came, 
 And still he walked upon the shores of Time; 
 
 Supporting, with his staff, his trembling frame. 
 Waiting his summons to that distant clime. 
 
 His white locks in the wintry wind would float. 
 And oft his dim and anxious eyes would roam 
 
 Out o'er the waters, for that little boat 
 That^was to carry him so safely home. 
 
HOME AT LAST. 95 
 
 Yet patiently he tarried till the time 
 
 When to remove him 'twould be God's srood will : 
 He bore life's ills with fortitude sublime, 
 
 And murmured not, but watched and waited still. 
 
 But when that time would be, no one could tell : 
 The harvest w^aits until the reapers come; 
 
 The full-gTOwn fruit was ripened, then it fell, 
 And angels gathered it and took it home. 
 
 With this our friend, how kindly God has dealt! 
 
 To him he did life's rosy morning give. 
 When fresh and pure and gushing joys were felt. 
 
 And when it was a pleasant thing to live. 
 
 He did not take him off in youthful prime, 
 When hope and love and vigor fed his pride ; 
 
 Xor did he take him in his life's noon-time, 
 But lengthened out his span till eventide. 
 
96 HOME AT LAST. 
 
 TlieD, when in weakness, age came creeping on, 
 And twilight fell, and all was growing dark; 
 
 And health and strength and earthly joys were 
 gone — 
 Then Death came for him in his mystic bark. 
 
 When senses were departing one by one, 
 Faces were growing strange, and every tie 
 
 That bonnd him here would shortly be undone — 
 Oh, God was merciful to let him die ! 
 
 He did not fear the change : he did not shrink. 
 
 ''I go so pretty to my home," he said. 
 Death led him on so softly, one would think 
 
 He were the kindest, gentlest friend he had. 
 
 He noiselessly unbarred the shattered door 
 Of that old crumbling prison-house of clay; 
 
HOME AT LAST. 97 
 
 And then the soul, that four-score years, or more, 
 Had been imprisoned, joyous soared away. 
 
 Long was that good man's life: the end was mild — 
 Calm as the closing of a summer-day! 
 
 He came into the world a harmless child. 
 And harmless as a child he passed away. 
 
 
SHE TOO IS GONE. 
 
 HE too is gone ! and side by side 
 
 Their withered bodies lie. 
 Her spirit from the flesh untied, 
 Has found its mate on high. 
 
 They shared each other's hopes and fears 
 
 In youth she was his pride ; 
 In age, the solace of his years — 
 
 And hcj her staff and guide. 
 
 They shared life's blessings and its ills, 
 
 Its sunshine and its frown; 
 As hand in hand they climbed its liills. 
 
 And slowl}^ tottered down. 
 
SHE TOO IS GONE. 99 
 
 So long a partner by liis side, 
 
 How could she stay behind 
 When he was gone? Could Death divide 
 
 Their souls so intertwined? 
 
 A faithful wife, and mother true, 
 
 Has entered on her rest. 
 Friends know what love to her was due, 
 
 And hold her memory blest. 
 
LOVE GOD. 
 
 OVE God witli all your heart; 
 
 For there is none 
 On earth below, in heaven above, 
 So well entitled to your love, 
 So worthy of a part 
 
 Of all you own. 
 
 Friends may be kind and true, 
 
 But more is he. 
 An angel tongue could never tell 
 What depth of love and mercy dwell 
 In that large heart for you — 
 
 For you and me. 
 
LOVE GOD. 101 
 
 Is it a pleasant thing 
 
 To breathe and live? 
 He shields you from the darts of Death, 
 And constantly supplies your breath, 
 And all that life can bring 
 
 Doth freely give. 
 
 His presence goes with you 
 
 Through hours of light ; 
 And while your wearied body sleeps, 
 He slumbers not, but ever keeps 
 A faithful watch all through 
 
 The silent night. 
 
 When ruined and undone — 
 
 With not an eye 
 To pity, not an arm to save — 
 He loved us even then, and gave 
 
102 LOVE GOD. 
 
 His dear, his only Son, 
 For us to die. 
 
 Angels in wonder pause — 
 
 Christ suifer thus ! 
 Hunger and thirst, and cold and heat. 
 And weariness, and aching feet. 
 And pain and death — because — 
 
 He pitied us? 
 
 How pay to him — or when — 
 
 The smallest part 
 Of what we owe? To give our all 
 Would be a recompense too small. 
 Oh ! we should love him then 
 
 With all the heart! 
 
'TIS SWEET TO DIE. 
 
 sweet to die ! no more to bear 
 The heat and burden of the day ; 
 But lay forever down the load of care 
 That we have borne so long, and pass away 
 Without a lingering doubt, witliout a fear, 
 To that blest land where all the endless year 
 Is fairer than the fairest May. 
 
 When health and strength and energies are fled, 
 
 And helpless age comes on with tottering tread, 
 
 And all the friends we loved so well are dead : 
 
 When joys are fading one by one — 
 
 Oh! if our work is only done, 
 
 And Faith, with clear and steady eye, 
 
104 'TIS SWEET TO DIE, 
 
 Can see the mansions in the sky — 
 
 'Tis sweet to lie serenely down, and die! 
 
 'Tis sweet to die ! when cold and stern 
 Misfortunes follow us where'er we go; 
 When friends are fickle, and too late we learn 
 That all their friendship is but empty show. 
 When all alone we meet the storms of life, 
 And all alone we struggle with the tide ; 
 With none to cheer our spirits in the strife, 
 Or lend a helping hand our bark to guide; 
 When not a friendly look, or tone, or smile, 
 Or word of hope is given to beguile 
 The heart from thoughts of sorrow for awhile- 
 If God in mercy hear our cry, 
 And pitying angels linger nigh. 
 Ah, then 'tis sweet to turn aside, and die ! 
 
BOB WHITE. 
 
 AVE you ever heard 
 
 Of the little bird 
 That was lost and never found? 
 
 Be it false or true, 
 
 I will tell to you, 
 The story that goes the round. 
 
 Once on a time 
 
 (So says the rhyme), 
 Two royal quails were blest 
 
 One day to lind 
 
 The nicest kind 
 Of birdies in their nest. 
 
lOG BOB WHITE. 
 
 Just four they were, 
 
 So plump and fair — 
 A very pretty sight ! 
 
 They named them all, 
 
 And one did call 
 (The eldest one) Bob White. 
 
 A prince was he, 
 And soon would be 
 
 A king, to rule and guide. 
 Quite fast he grew, 
 And handsome, too — 
 
 He was their joy and pride — 
 
 Their dearest pet ! 
 And oft they let 
 This young prince have his way 
 "I'm quite too large 
 
BOB WHITE. 107 
 
 To be a charge," 
 Said he to them one day. 
 
 So from their sight, 
 
 One morning bright, 
 He wandered far away ; 
 
 And coming back, 
 
 He lost the track. 
 And farther off did stray. 
 
 Then, wild with fear, 
 
 Now there, now here. 
 They ran, they called his name : 
 "Bob White! Bob White!" 
 
 With all their might ; 
 But still no answer came. 
 
 Through copse and fens. 
 And lonely glens — 
 
108 BOB WHITE. 
 
 All through the fields of grain, 
 
 'With anxious look, 
 
 In every nook 
 They searched, but all, in vain. 
 
 Day after day, 
 
 In every way. 
 Seeking from morn till night — 
 
 In earnest strain. 
 
 Again, again, 
 They cried, '' Bob White ! Bob White ! 
 
 And by and by 
 
 That anxious cry 
 By all their tribe was heard; 
 
 And one and all 
 
 Began to call. 
 And seek the poor, lost bird. 
 
BOB WHITE. 109 
 
 JSTow stepping smart, 
 
 ISTow stopping short, 
 To listen for a sound; 
 
 Now on tiptoe, 
 
 Now stooping low. 
 They closel}^ scanned the ground. 
 
 And far and near, 
 
 And loud and clear. 
 Rang out that earnest call : 
 " Bob White ! Bob White ! " 
 
 Poor Bob was quite 
 Beyond the reach of all. 
 
 Thus years went past. 
 And when at last 
 Death claimed those stricken birds. 
 Their family dear, 
 
no BOB WHITE. 
 
 And friends drew near 
 To hear their parting words. 
 
 "O friends," they said, 
 "When we are dead, 
 Search every foot of ground 
 From shore to shore; 
 And ne'er give o'er 
 Till your lost prince is found." 
 
 Then side by side 
 
 That couple died; 
 And, though long years have gone, 
 
 In many lands. 
 
 By faithful bands, 
 The search goes bravely on. 
 
 Thus I have told 
 This story old; 
 
BOB WHITE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 'Now listen what they say 
 " From bush or rail 
 You'll hear the quail, 
 On any summei^-day." 
 
 
A^GELINE. 
 
 
 HOU art fairer than the moon, 
 Shining full at Night's high noon ; 
 Winsome as a day in June, 
 
 Angeline ! 
 Graceful as the bounding roe, 
 Charming as the brooks that How- 
 Laughing sweetly, lisping low, 
 Angeline ! 
 
 '&' 
 
 Thou art modest as a flower, 
 Blooming in a wild-wood bower 
 Gentle as the twilight hour, 
 Angeline ! 
 
ANGELINE. 113 
 
 Sweeter than the sweetest rose, 
 That in any garden grows ; 
 Chaste and pure, as driven snows, 
 Angeline ! 
 
 Where thou art, there would I be— 
 Yes, I love thee ! love but thee ! 
 Canst thou love me, only me, 
 
 Angeline? 
 Take my heart and give me thine! 
 Come and sit beneath my vine ! 
 Let our fortunes intertwine, 
 
 Angeline ! 
 
KISSING THEOUGH THE LEAVES, 
 
 OME to my little wiudow, 
 Just for a change,'' she said ; 
 ^'And say good-by." I promised, 
 And went with eager tread. 
 
 It was a cozy window 
 Under the cottage eaves, 
 
 Half hidden by the clusters 
 Of fragrant vines and leaves. 
 
 The sly, mischievous moonbeams 
 Were peeping here and there, 
 
 To get a glimpse, in passing, 
 Of her so true and fair. 
 
KISSING THROUGH THE LEAVES. 116 
 
 And there we took our parting, 
 
 She in, and I outside; 
 While dewy leaves and blossoms 
 
 Her blushes tried to hide. 
 
 There, through the tangled net-work 
 Of leaf, and flower, and vine, 
 
 A something, sweet and tender, 
 Passed from her lips to mine. 
 
 I must not tell the secrets 
 
 That dropped beneath the eaves — 
 
 But, oh ! it was delicious. 
 This kissing through the leaves ! 
 
SHE SLEEPS WELL. 
 
 IpEFDERLY, tenderly 
 
 Lay her to rest: 
 Folding the lily hands 
 On the still breast. 
 Kiss for the last time now, 
 Softly the marble brow, 
 Try to remember how 
 Greatly she's blest. 
 Tenderly, tenderly 
 Lay her to rest ! 
 
 Peacefully, peacefully, 
 Sweetly asleep! 
 Pain can not wake her from 
 Slumber so deep. 
 
SHE SLEEPS WELL. 117 
 
 Ended her sorrows are, 
 Gone her blest spirit, where 
 All things are pure and fair, 
 
 No more to weep. 
 Peacefully, peacefully, 
 
 Sweetly asleep ! 
 
 Hopefully, hopefully, 
 
 Say, "All is well ! " 
 What are her joys to-day, 
 
 Tongue can not tell. 
 Through God's endearing grace. 
 Sometime you'll see her face. 
 There in that happy place. 
 
 Where she doth dwell. 
 Hopefully, hopefully, 
 
 Say, "All is well!" 
 
GEACIE AND GENAEO. 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 ERE, Gracie, let us sit beneath this tree : 
 It is a noble tree ! How soft and fine 
 The grass is here beneath its kindly shade ! 
 ligature is very good and generous 
 To make us such a fresh and fragrant seat. 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 See! here are flowers, Gen-ar-o, oh how sweet! 
 There, you have crushed this violet's little heart ! 
 Poor dear! I would not hurt it for the world ! 
 Now I will make a chaplet for your brow; 
 And, cousin, you will tell me, will you not. 
 The little secret that you said no ear 
 Must hear but mine: — but mine? what can it be? 
 
GRACIE AND GENARO. 119 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 What can it be? Well, Grade, you shall hear. 
 Sit here beside me ; cull your flowers first, 
 And while you make your garland, I will tell — 
 But what if it should make you pout, ray coz ! 
 I never spoke of her to you. 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 Of herf 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 Yes, of my love : the girl whom I adore ! 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 And if you do, why should I pout at that ? 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 Because girls do not often love to hear 
 Another praised; and, Gracie, you're a girl. 
 
120 QRACIE AND GENARO. 
 
 aRACIE. 
 
 Oh, is that all ! Then tell me of your love. 
 I will not frown at all, nor drop my lips. 
 But look as pleasant as a summer-morn — 
 Only do tell me all. And is she good? 
 And is she fair? and do you love her much? 
 
 aENARO. 
 
 Yes, Oracle, she is good, and fair, and oh ! 
 I can not tell you how I love that girl ! 
 She is the earthly center of my thoughts ; 
 The sunlight of my days ; the sweet starlight 
 Of all my nights; and she is so enwound 
 About my heart, 'twould break if she should die. 
 You look less happy, Oracle, than yon did 
 A moment since — let's talk no more of this. 
 
GRACIE AND GENARO. 121 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 j^ay, cousin, yon mistake ! you know you said, 
 "If she should die!" Heaven grant she may not 
 
 die! 
 IN^ow tell me how she looks; go on, good coz. 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 And shall I draw a picture of my love? 
 But how can I do this in words ? as well 
 Attempt to paint a rainbow ; yet I will 
 Try to suggest the image of my love. 
 Fancy a girl, then, Gracie, at that age 
 When girlhood blossoms into womanhood ; 
 Like a sweet rose-bud bursting into bloom. 
 She is not yet a woman fully grown, 
 N"or yet a girl ; but half-determined stands 
 Between the two : quite willing to advance, 
 Yet clinging to her girlish looks and ways. 
 
122 GRACIE AND GENARO. 
 
 About your size, slender, and finely formed. 
 Her hair — I can not paint a sunbeam, so 
 I'll merely say 'tis golden like your own ; 
 And like yours too, it hangs in wavy curls 
 Around her shoulders like the warm sunshine 
 Upon the spotless snow. Her brow is smooth, 
 Not high, but beautifully formed. 
 Her eyes — such splendid eyes! I only wish- 
 That you could see them, Grracie, looking up. 
 As I have often seen them, into mine; 
 So soft and dreamy, and so full of love. 
 Methinks your eyes are very much like hers. 
 What shall I call them, cousin ? 
 
 URACIE. 
 
 Are they blue? 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 Yes, blue and full of thought, as though tlie soul 
 Looked through them. 
 
GRACIE AND GENARO. 123 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 Then call them windows painted blue, 
 At which the sonl sits, looking throngh. 
 What color are my eyes, Genaro, gray? 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 1^0, they are blue like hers. Oh, her eyes are — 
 What shall I call them? — Yes! two little heavens, 
 Serene, and full of thoughtful, earnest light; 
 Where truth, and wit, and gladness, like a group 
 Of sister stars, sparkle and dwell, and whence 
 Intelligence beams like the full-orbed moon. 
 And very often through these cloudless skies 
 Are angels seen ; that sometimes weep for us 
 When we are in distress or doing wrong — 
 This is the dew that falls from these "sweet heavens." 
 And there are roses in her face that bloom 
 Throughout tlie year. 
 
124 G FACTE AND GENARO. 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 You speak in riddles now; 
 But let me put your riddles into rhyme: 
 Each blue eye a little heaven, 
 
 Where the light of love reposes; 
 Each soft cheek a little garden, 
 Wherein blossom sweetest roses. 
 And is she good, Genaro? Is she good? 
 
 (lENARO. 
 
 Yes, she is good; for not long since she wept. 
 Almost, to see me crush a violet. 
 But come, sweet Cousin Gracie, you shall see 
 The likeness of my love; I have it here, 
 And you may judge yourself if she is fair. 
 Look in this locket (showing her a locket with 
 Only a mirror in it), have I told the truth? 
 
GRACIE AND GENARO, 125 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 Oh, Genaro, fie ! and is it me 
 That you have said such dreadful things about? 
 Xay, you are jesting now; I know you are, 
 For I am but a pUiin and simple girl. 
 
 GENARO. 
 
 Well, Gracie, if you are, so is my love ; 
 For you are she. Yes, dearest, it is you 
 That I have dreamed about so long, and loved 
 Better than my own life. I've studied you 
 As I would study some delightful book : 
 Looking into your upturned eyes to see 
 If love was there. And long ago I found 
 All that I wished to know ; that you loved me. 
 IsTow, darling, have I read your eyes aright? 
 
126 GRACIE AND G£NARO. 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 'Tis folly to deny in words, that which 
 My looks declare : so I'll confess the truth. 
 My eyes, it seems, have told you naughty tales. 
 I would have dropped the blinds if I had known 
 That you were looking in upon my thoughts : 
 But from this time my secrets are your own. 
 
THE BACHELOE'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 fO marry, or not to marry ; that is the question. 
 Whether 'tis nohler in a man to sntfer 
 The jeers and banters of outrageous females, 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And by proposing, end them. To court ; to marry ; 
 That's all : and by a marriage say we end 
 The heart-ache, and the thousand and one ills 
 Bachelors are heir to; 'tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wished. To court; to marry; 
 To marry, perchance to rue! aye, there's the rub! 
 For in that state what after-thoughts may come, 
 When we have shuffled off this bachelor coil, 
 Must bring repentance. There's the respect 
 That makes man live so long a single life : 
 
128 THE BACHELOR'S S L I L QU F. 
 
 For who would bear the scorn of pretty girls, 
 
 The hints of widows, the insolence of married men. 
 
 The inconveniences of undarned socks, 
 
 And threadbare coats, and shirts w^ith buttons off; 
 
 The pangs of love-fits, and the o\yl-like life 
 
 That lonely bachelors are subject to — 
 
 When he, himself, might his quietus make 
 
 With a bare marriage license? Who would bear 
 
 To fret and groan under a single life. 
 
 But that the dread of something after marriage — 
 
 That undiscovered net-work from whose toils 
 
 No venturer escapes, puzzles the will. 
 
 And makes us rather bear the ills we have. 
 
 Than fiy to others that we know not of? 
 
SERENADE. 
 
 r'^j^H, the air is so delicious, 
 
 And the sky above is clear; 
 And the mocking-bird is making love 
 
 To his mate so dear, so dear! 
 Oh, the stars are softly shining, 
 
 And the full-moon's mellow light 
 Over all the landscape lies so still, 
 
 And the lake is calm to-night. 
 
 Chorus — Then come and try my boat, love ! 
 
 'Tis waiting by the shore; 
 And proudly, lightly, swiftly, 
 
 'Twill skim the waters o'er. 
 Oh, come with me to-night, love ! 
 
 And, sitting side by side. 
 So smoothly, gently, safely, 
 
 Bo merrily we'll glide. 
 
THE KITTY BIDS. 
 
 HEN summer skies become less bright, 
 And summer-days are not so long; 
 As twilight deepens into night, 
 The Kitty Dids begin their song. 
 
 And what is all the noise about, 
 
 In this unhappy family? 
 They can not tell themselves, no doubt, 
 
 Just why it is they disagree. 
 
 I wonder what has Kitty done ; 
 
 Or whether it be false or true ! 
 To her it may be only fun 
 
 To hear them make this great ado. 
 
THE KITTY BIDS. 131 
 
 Some say she did; others deny, 
 And say she didn't. So it goes, 
 
 Till this confused and silly cry 
 
 Destroys their peace and their repose. 
 
 In shrub and tree,, in ambush hid, 
 Far in the hush of night we hear 
 
 The ^'did" and "didn't," "Kitty did" 
 And "Kitty didn't" on the air. 
 
 They'd better mind their own affairs, 
 And each its own opinion keep ; 
 
 They'd better say their evening prayers, 
 And in the bushes go to sleep. 
 
 And here a moral you may find : 
 Be not like this contentious crew; 
 
 Avoid disputes, and never mind 
 What other people say or do. 
 
THE COMING STOKM. 
 
 *^ WfiHE sun liad passed its highest altitude, 
 t^^ And, as the day declined, a massive cloud 
 
 Rose like a crouching monster from the deep, 
 Stretched its unwield}' form and dusky limbs. 
 And reared its huge proportions in the sky. 
 Slowly and steadily it mounted up 
 The azure slope, frowning menacingly. 
 And gathering strength and sternness as it moved. 
 At intervals a muffled, rumbling sound 
 Told that the elements were busy there, 
 Mounting their batteries and marshaling 
 Their forces for the strife. 
 
 Midsummer's heat 
 Scorched with its iiery bi'eath the fainting earth, 
 
THE COMING STORM. 133 
 
 And palpitated through the lifeless air. 
 The stillness was intense : the restless breeze 
 Paused in its play ; and every bird and beast 
 Panted for breath. Even the aspen-tree 
 Felt the oppressive, pulseless quietude, 
 And all its leaves were motionless and mute. 
 
 And now the sun, declining in his power. 
 Wearied by fruitless struggles with the clouds ; 
 Dispirited, and shorn of all his locks, 
 Eetired in sullen gloom behind the scene. 
 And then the spirit of the mighty storm 
 Awoke in wrath. His piercing eye flashed fire; 
 And dazzling chains, and sheets of lurid flame 
 Lit up the gloom, and for an instant changed 
 The solid wall of blackness in the sky 
 To murky billows and unshapely caves. 
 His voice found utterance in thunder-tones : 
 
134 THE COMING STORM. 
 
 At first a mutter, deep and half-suppressed, 
 
 Rumbled within the bowels of the cloud; 
 
 Then breaking forth in fury uncontrolled. 
 
 Bellowed along the nebulous expanse; 
 
 And rattling up the steep acclivities. 
 
 Rolled down the rugged passes of the cloud 
 
 And far away into abyssnial caves, 
 
 With such explosive and tremendous shocks 
 
 As jarred the heavens and the solid earth. 
 
 The winds — a monster brood of giant strength — 
 
 Were all uncaged, and flapped their unseen wings 
 
 In wild abandonment of boisterous mirth. 
 
 A lull at length ensued ; and then a pause 
 Held the gigantic forces of the storm 
 In mute control. But only for a time : 
 That breathless calm foreboded coming din ; 
 And only served to heighten the effect. 
 
THE COMING STORM. 135 
 
 And bring the tempest out in bold relief. 
 The elements, impatient of restraint, 
 Muttered in threatening tones their discontent. 
 Then far and near a sound of tumult told 
 The swift approach of tlie impending storm. 
 To right, and left, and rushing in hot haste, 
 Like scudding sails by wanton winds pursued, 
 The flying squadrons led the mighty van. 
 
 In massive columns and unbroken lines, 
 
 In stern comportment and majestic pomp. 
 
 With flashing colors and the roll of drums 
 
 The terrible battalions of the storm 
 
 Moved to the front — a spectacle of awe. 
 
 And, then, obedient to a higher power. 
 
 With roar and clash of wings the winds caught up 
 
 The ponderous cloud, and bore it swiftly on 
 
 In awful grandeur through the trembling air. 
 
136 THE COMING STORM. 
 
 A thousand hearts were paralyzed with fear. 
 The timid shuddered, and the brave stood still, 
 Awaiting in suspense the coming storm. 
 Then, while the rushing, terrifying winds 
 Deluged the heavens with a flood of sound ; 
 And while the tramp of the advancing hosts. 
 And rumbling roar of thunder chariots 
 Resounded through the corridors of space. 
 Departing day put out its fading lights. 
 And left us to the darkness and the storm. 
 
WITHOUT OUR HOPES. 
 
 ITHOUT our hopes of future bliss, 
 Without Religion's anchor sure, 
 
 Oh, what a dreary world were this! 
 Who could the storms of life endure ? 
 
 Deprived of these, our souls would grope 
 In darkness growing darker still. 
 
 Bereft of heavenly peace and hope. 
 How could we bear so great an ill ? 
 
 Take these away, and what are we ? 
 
 A thing of sport for every gale — 
 A wandering ship upon the sea, 
 
 Without a rudder or a sail ! 
 
138 WITHOUT OUR HOPES. 
 
 Let sun and moon be blotted out, 
 Let every star refuse to shine — 
 
 Better lose these than be without 
 The purer light of grace divine ! 
 
 
BE NOT AFRAID: ONLY BELIEVE." 
 
 I CHRISTIAN, though God hide his face, 
 l^^ And for a time withdraw his grace ; 
 
 Though scarce a glimpse of heaven is seen, 
 Because of clouds that intervene — 
 His promise is forever sure, 
 And to all ages will endure ! 
 Let not your spirit mourn or grieve — 
 " Be not afraid : only believe ! '' 
 
 Though rough the path in which you tread, 
 And dark the way where you are led — 
 Left friendless, and without a home. 
 Over the desert waste to roam — 
 God will not thus leave those to die. 
 Who on his promises rely ! 
 
140 ^'BE NOT AFRAID: O Is L Y B EL I EV E : ' 
 
 Take courage ! help you will receive — 
 "Be not afraid: only believe!" 
 
 Faint-hearted Christians, though the day 
 Of better things seems far awaj^ ; 
 Though sin is rife throughout the land, 
 And wicked men, with daring hand, 
 The Temple of our hopes assail — 
 God^s kingdo7n tmist and vnll jprevail ! 
 Let not the world your hearts deceive — 
 " Be not afraid : only believe ! '' 
 
NIGHT. 
 
 € >]5mfjjj] sun is set; but in the western sky 
 
 Are lingering flashes of his closing eye. 
 
 I^ight comes apace — her shadow goes before, 
 And soon another day will be no more. 
 The flocks and herds o'er pastures cease to roam, 
 And seek instinctively their master's home. 
 The way-worn traveler finds some favored spot, 
 Where till the morrow he may cast his lot. 
 Homeward the farmer from his plow returns, 
 Viewing the hopeful crop he dearly earns ; 
 Glad that his labors for the day are o'er, 
 He sits in quiet in his cottage door. 
 Kow all the little birds have gone to rest, 
 Perched upon limbs, or in their cozy nests. 
 
142 NIGHT, 
 
 The hills grow dim — a deeper, darker shade 
 Gathers upon the. forest and the glade, 
 And everywhere the winds are hushed in sleep. 
 1^0 sound is heard to hreak the silence deep, 
 Save now and then the owl's unearthly hoot, 
 Whose doleful echoes wake the valleys mute; 
 Or now% perchance, the lonely whip-poor-will 
 Startles the quietude of vale and hill. 
 
 Now Fight is here — a huge, black, silent bird, 
 Slowly descending, softly, all unheard; 
 ~ Settles on earth, and o'er it darkness brings, 
 And gathers all the world beneath its wings. 
 
LONGII^G FOE KEST. 
 
 HE ceaseless toil 1 
 The wild turmoil ! 
 The endless reaching after spoil! 
 
 The tiresome strife, 
 
 Forever rife — 
 Oh what is so monotonous as life? 
 
 No rest, no rest ! 
 
 'Ho tranquil breast 
 This side the mansions of the blest ! 
 
 Still, day by day, 
 
 Without relay, 
 The wearied body struggles on its way. 
 
144 LONGING FOR REST. 
 
 The tired heart sighs, 
 
 The spirit cries, 
 And longs for rest. Oh, could these eyes 
 
 Forever close 
 
 On mortal woes. 
 And open on the scenes of blest repose ! 
 
 Oh, troubled heart, 
 
 Where'er thou art. 
 Let not thy hopes of rest depart ! 
 
 Courage maintain ! 
 
 Steadfast remain ! 
 Thy patient waiting will not be in vain. 
 
 For there is rest — 
 A sweet behest 
 Our Father gives when he thinks best. 
 
LONGING FOR REST, 145 
 
 The body here, 
 The spirit there, 
 Will be released from every toil and care. 
 
 Be patient still, 
 
 soul, until 
 Thy years their round of duties fill ! 
 
 Then peace complete, 
 
 And rest so sweet, 
 Will crown and bless thee at the Savior's feet. 
 
GOING HOME, 
 
 AREWELL, friend^! Death soon will sever 
 
 Ties that bind me close to you ; 
 Farewell now, but not forever — 
 Only for a time, adieu ! 
 
 Once again I hope to meet you, 
 
 There where parting comes no more — 
 
 Hope to meet and gladly greet you, 
 On that peaceful, sunny shore. 
 
 Tenderly a Voice doth call me : 
 "Come and join the heavenly band!" 
 Jordan's waves do not appall me, 
 Eor the Savior holds my hand. 
 
GOING HOME. 147 
 
 Do not weep for me, or sorrow ! 
 
 Gently through the billows' foam"! 
 He will lead me — ere to-morrow 
 
 I will safely reach my home. 
 
 Hark! faint strains of wondrous sweetness 
 
 From beyond the river come ! 
 Oh, the fullness, the completeness, 
 
 Of the joy of/going home! 
 
SLEEP. 
 
 IJILT will not let his wretched victim be ; 
 But startles him with dreams. The memory 
 Of evil deeds, are nettles in the bed 
 That pierce with poisoned stings the sleeper's head. 
 Grief is a restless bed-feUow; and fear 
 Whispers its ghostly stories to the ear; 
 While anxious thoughts upon the troubled breast, 
 Are heav}^ weights, destroying peace and rest. 
 Sleep will not lodge with care, or sorrow know, 
 And has but little fellowship with woe; 
 Treats every wretched being with disdain. 
 And flies aifrighted from the couch of pain. 
 Sleep shows no favors; but as freely brings 
 Its healing balm to peasants as to kings : 
 Yea, oftener prefers an humble bed. 
 To that where lies a haughty monarch's head. 
 
SLEEP. 149 
 
 To sleep serenely, by no dreams annoyed, 
 The mind must be at rest; the '^conscience void 
 Of all offense." Our thoughts, that love to roam 
 So far and wide, must all be summoned home. 
 Cares, with our garments, must be laid away — 
 We'll find them waiting at the break of day, 
 Ready and willing to resume their sway. 
 
 There is another sleep, beyond recall — 
 A long and dreamless sleep that comes to all. 
 Yes, in a darkened room, and narrow bed, 
 Where we can never hear the voice or tread 
 Of fellow-beings; where no rattling drums, 
 Or thunders, can disturb till morning comes. 
 And when that long, deep sleep at last is o'er. 
 If we would feel the need of rest no more. 
 The soul must be prepared to meet its God 
 Before the body sleeps beneath the sod. 
 
SLEIGHING. 
 
 ^N a still winter-night, 
 When the young heart is light, 
 And the moon is full, and the stars are bright ; 
 To the fair and the gay, 
 In a smooth -gliding sleigh, 
 'Tis nice to career o'er the hills and away. 
 
 As the}^ glide o'er the ground. 
 How cheery the sound 
 
 Of the song and the jest and the laugh that goes 
 round : 
 
 While the tinkle of bells, 
 
 In rhythmical swells, 
 
 A story of unrestrained merriment tells. 
 
SPEAK GENTLY, 
 
 PEAK gently, kindly ; let no tone 
 Or word of angry strife, 
 Poison the atmosphere of home, 
 Or sadden this brief life. 
 
 For words of kindness win the heart 
 
 To all that's good and true ; 
 And to its tender plants impart 
 
 Refreshment as. the dew." 
 
 Since gentle words are easy said, 
 And leave no pain behind — 
 
 'No bitter fruits when we are dead — 
 'Tis better to be kind. 
 
152 SPEAK GENTLY. 
 
 Yes, better to be kind to all, 
 Whatever they have done: 
 
 A gentle word or act, though small, 
 May save an erring one. 
 
 ^^^^^C 
 
 ^^^^. 
 
I SHALL BE SATISFIED. 
 
 "I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.' 
 — Psalm xvii. 16. 
 
 SHALL be satisfied, 
 When safe across the tide 
 When mortal forms immortal take. 
 And endless day begins to break, 
 If with his likeness I awake — 
 I shall be satisfied ! 
 
 I shall be satisfied, 
 
 Forever by his side ! 
 In Canaan's goodly land so fair, 
 If I behold my Savior there. 
 And his transcendent image bear — 
 
 I shall be satisfied ! 
 
164 / SHALL BE SATISFIED. 
 
 I shall be satisfied ! 
 
 What could I want beside? 
 The victory won; the conflict o'er; 
 Transported to that peaceful shore, 
 To be like him forevermore — 
 
 I shall be satisfied. 
 
A PKAYEK. 
 
 ^ AYIOR, draw me nearer, nearer! 
 Bind my heart and soul to thee! 
 May thy wondrous love grow dearer, 
 Dearer may thy presence be ! 
 
 Safely, safely through the valley, 
 
 Guide my wandering steps each day : 
 
 Let me never stop to dally 
 With temptations by the way. 
 
 In the time of want and sorrow — 
 Though the night be dark and long — 
 
 May I trust thee for the morrow. 
 With its sunshine and its song. 
 
156 A PR A YER. 
 
 May the load of sin grow lighter! 
 
 Take away my doubts and fears: 
 That the star of hope may brighter 
 
 Shine through all the coming years 
 
 Then, when mortal scenes are ended— 
 
 Having acted well my part — 
 
 Let my life with thine be blended! 
 
 Oh receive me where thon art! 
 * % % It ^ * * 
 
 In thy habitation fair, 
 
 Savior, hear my earnest prayer! 
 
j^OTEg. 
 
 NOTE I., PAGE 47. - 
 
 These lines are a tribute to tiie memory of the author's mother 
 —a consistent Christian, of whom it may be said: 
 
 "None knew her but to love her, 
 None named her but to praise her." 
 
 NOTE II., PAGE 94. 
 
 This and the following piece were suggested by the decease of an 
 aged Christian couple. The interval between their deaths was but 
 a few days. 
 
 NOTE III., PAGE 127. 
 
 This parody was published anonymously, many years ago, and 
 ifterward found its way into Kidd's Elocution.