Gift to Thee . [ENRY POTTS Class i^L Z> b_ji Book. V> iSl GopyrightN°_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT My Gift To Thee Present Time Verses 'By JAMES HENRY POTTS % CINCINNATI: JENNINGS AND GRAHAM NEW YORK: EATON AND MAINS Copyright, 1910, By Jennings and Graham .77^ x )CI.A2?1. Dedication To those who grant new friends a place; To warmth of soul incline; Who can a bit of humor trace In any sober line; To whom heart-throbs make mute appeal ; Who know a real life-throe; Whose blood does not at mirth congeal, Nor pleasure all forego; Who see the bright and sunny side Of what they feel and learn, And to despondent mental tide Can give a happy turn ; Who care for right, and cherish truth, And love the things that are; Whose sympathies retain their youth, Though life advances far; To such I dedicate these lines, Abiding their decree; The verdict of congenial minds Is good enough for me. Detroit, Mich. Contents Part L present Cime ©ersea My Gift to Thee, ------- 15 Just For an Hour, ------ j^ The Call to Improvement, - - - - 17 "Only A Millionaire," ----- 19 The Professional Pull, ------ 20 The Newspaper, ------- 21 The Editor, --------22 The Office Seeker, ------ 23 Art Thou The Man ? 25 Gold Mine Stock, 26 Playing the Market, ------ 27 The King of Fruits, ------ 29 The Sealed Dungeon, - * " - - "30 Our Thinning Ranks, ------ 33 The Grand Canyon, ------ 47 The Common Chord, ------ 49 The Land We Love, ------ 51 A Creature of Contradictions, - - - - 52 The Supreme Word, . - - - ~ ~ 53 This Bad, Bad World, 54 Evolution, -------- 56 The Day For Sorrow, 57 5 The Glorious Sunshine, - - - - - - 58 Bay View, " - - " - 59 Poetic Locomotion, -------60 The Trolley, ------- ^j The Auto, 62 JJart IL UTtfoenite Sfmffto The Polliwog, -------65 The Quarry, ------- 55 The Partners, -------66 "If I Had Money,' ' ------ 67 Christmas, Then and Now, - - - - - 68 Nature's Own Beverage, ----- 73 Only, 74 Content With Little, ------ 74 "Dem Melons," 75 The Meanest Thing in the World, - 76 Two Neighbors, ------- 77 What Am I ? 78 At Wit's End, 79 At Wisdom's Beginning, ----- gQ A Mighty Cable, ------- 81 Opportunity, - - - - - - - 81 "My 'ittle Pickaninnie," 82 Let It Go, 83 Fight it Out, --------34 6 ' Thirteen,' ' ------- 85 A Business Secret, - - - - - - 86 The Flying Fish, ------- 87 "GitUpandGit," ------ 87 How to Grow Old, ------ 88 How to Stay Young, 89 Bumpy Bump, ------- 90 Duty and Beauty, 91 An Unconcealed Weapon, ----- 92 A Siren Voice, ------- 93 My Little Mission, ------ 94 Part IIL ^tutoental T>ittiz* "Cut it Short,' ' ------- 97 Overloaded, - • - - - - - 98 The Catholic School, ------ 100 Bathing Superfluous, - - - - - 101 The Little Grayback, - - - ■ - - 103 Critics and the Patriarchs, - - " - 104 The Fly Trap, ------- 106 The Preacher and the Robber, - - - - 107 Old Sambo, - - - - - - ~ -111 Unchangeable Identity, - - - - - 112 The Irishman's View of Immersion, - - - - 114 In a Bishop's Bed, - - - - - 116 An Attachment, 117 7 No Stuttering Women, - - - ~ " 118 He, Not I, 120 "See The Point?" ------ 121 A Shining Duty, ------ 122 My Birthday, 123 My First Flame, - ■ ~ ~ " " 124 Rifts in the Clouds, ------ 125 Asking My Consent, - - - - ~ ' 126 The Happiest Three, ------ 127 The Twinkling Eye, - - -. - - 128 J)art IV* Sentimental E&pt&m Nature's Tears, - - - ~ - ' - - 131 Dedication of a Guest Book, • - - - 131 My Relatives, - - - - - - -132 His Spot of Sunshine, ----- 133 True Friends Are Best, - - - ~ - 134 In a Lady's Album, ------ 135 Noisy Stillness, ------- 135 Gems From An Old Casket, - - - - - 136 Those Far Off Days, ------ 138 A Love Secret, ------- 139 "Do You Love Me?" - 141 Old Letters, ------- 142 Happiness, -------- 143 8 Two Hearts, 144 Advice, - - - - - > - - - - 145 Gratitude, ------- 14^ A Test of Friendship, ------ 145 Benevolence, ------- 147 Frugality, - - - - - - - -148 Honor, - 149 Jealousy, -------- 150 Nature Our Teacher, ----- 152 Danger in Ridicule, ------ 153 The Highest State, ------ 154 Give Me The Truth, ------ 155 "Dat's Enuff," ------ 157 No License, No, ------- 158 A Straight Path, ------ 159 Two Line Sermons, - - . " " " " 160 Part V* Emotional fliecea The Universal Religion, ----- 155 What is Life? ------- 155 Destroy Not My Faith, - - * 167 Soul Rest, 168 A Faithful Monitor, ------ 159 Work Before Wages, ----- 170 The Sweetest Song, - - - - - -171 9 The Heavenly Song, - . - " - - - 172 Weighty Words, ------ 173 The Century Dawn, " ' " . " " " " 174 Alone With Thee, - - - - - - 175 Our Years, - " ~ ~ " - ~ ~ 176 Thanksgiving Hymn, ------ 177 The Risen Lord, ------- 178 The Scarlet and White, ----- 179 An Insatiate Thief, ------ igQ The Highest Honor, - - - - - ~ 181 The Best Goodness, ------ 182 Thine Forever, ------- 183 "l Can Not Depart Alone," - 184 What Money Can Not Buy, - 185 The White Tie, ------- 186 The Penitent's Prayer, ----- 188 The Dying Pilgrim's Plea, ----- 189 The Laymen's Movement, ----- 1% JJatt VL JJeraonal Characterisations A Cheery Ministry, ------ 193 Our Ruth, - - 194 Tim Tom, 195 Elna, A Detroit Idyl, 196 Alonsa, An American Carol, - - - - 198 Ethel D., ♦ - 200 10 Those Johnson Girls, ------ 202 Esther Earl, - 203 Henry White, ------- 204 Maggie O., - - - - - - - 205 DOLLA KONANTZ, ------- 207 Mabel B., 208 Frances E., 209 Cordelia A.-, - - - - - - - - 213 My Little World, - - - - - -215 James Riston, ------- 216 "Kittie," - - - - - - - - 218 To Alice, - 220 A Father's Pity, ------- 221 Oscar Ferdinand, ------ 223 Arthur Ninde, 225 After One Year, ------ 226 After Two Years, ------- 227 After Fifteen Years, ----- 228 Easy and Not Easy, 230 "Dropping Out of Sight/ ' - 232 The Lost Hearing, ------ 234 11 List of Illustrations Facing Page Golden Fruit, - " - 28 The Sealed Dungeon, - - - - - - 30 Friends of the Juveniles, ----- 64 A Pleasant Look, -------66 The Ladened Christmas Tree, - 72 "I'se Had a Lushus Bite," -. - - - 74 "My 'ittle Pickaninnie," ----- 82 The Flying Fish, -------86 Old Sambo, - -110 "A Noisy Stillness," - - - - - - 134 Alice, 220 12 Part I Present Time Verses No grudge have I against the PAST; No accusation bringing; But in the NOW, while it may last, Must I do all my singing. My Gift to Thee I can not give thee gold; Not mine to give; The precious dust eludes my searchful view; Or, if I find, it 'scapes my fingers through; I -can not give thee gold. Nor can I give thee peace; For God alone Can calm the tumult of thy wakened breast, And soothe the warring elements to rest; I can not give thee peace. But I can give thee love, In measure full; My very soul in love goes out to thine, In glad fulfillment of the law divine, An honest, tender love. I also give good will; I wish thee well; To see thee prosper and rich blessing gain ; Thy noblest wish and plan and hope attain; I give thee right good will. 15 And I would give thee more, If more in need; Assist thee in thy progress through life's school ; Exemplify to thee the Golden Rule; And thus would give thee more. Q£rt t&* t£r* Just for an Hour O, write me a word that will brighten my thought Just for an hour; A word with emotional sunshine fraught, Ladened with power; A word of enlightenment, cheeriness, truth, Fitting my heart; A word of compassion, or stricture forsooth, Help to impart! I want to be comforted, solaced, and soothed, Just for an hour. I ask that my pathway be lighted and smoothed — Fragrant with flower. Ope to my vision the landscapes of gray, Clear and serene; 16 Glimpses of mountains and hills far away, Golden their sheen. Let me abandon myself to the best, Just for an hour; Blessings that fall at my Maker's behest; Sunshine or shower. O to be restful, contented, and still, Fanned from above ; Living and being and doing Thy will, Father of love! <^" t&* t&* The Call to Improvement If you can not invent, improve; Make better the clumsy and old; Get out of the limiting groove; Make finer the beaten gold. Add vigor to that which is strong; Give nerve to the helpless and weak; Cut short what is uselessly long; Some word of encouragement speak. 2 17 Get into the swim of advance, Jump out of the pool of decay; There 's pleasure for you to enhance ; There 's trouble for you to allay. If you can not invent, improve; The cloudy and dense make clear; Go, quicken the sluggish move, And quiet the foolish fear. Wake up to the call of the hour; Go forth to the work of to-day; Take hold of the lever of power; Learn quick to strike hard and obey. There 's structure for you to complete ; There ? s station for you to attain ; There's struggle for you to meet; There 's triumph for you to gain. If you can not invent, improve; Add something to human weal; Some habit of wrong reprove; Some fashion of ill conceal. 18 If you do not improve, you fail; You surely will retrograde; And ever you will bewail The ruinous error made. t£r* l2r* t&* "Only a Millionaire" A millionaire's not rich to-day; His fortune is but fair; Of rich men such as he they say, "He 's only a millionaire." To be a rich man with the rich, And dwell in Golden Park, Your aim must take a higher pitch, Up toward the billion mark. A million in one dividend, Is nothing very rare; "Pin money" given wife to spend, By multi-millionaire. Hence as in riches, small or vast, I ne'er can have a share ; You may, while my few hundred last, Just call me thousandaire. 19 The Professional Pull A doctor, like wine, is the better for age; A preacher, like bread, must be new. A welcome is given the medical sage; The clerical gets the adieu. How strange that the cure of a physical ill, Requires the ripeness of years; While sickness of spirit is hopeless until A youth in the pulpit appears. Physicians work on to the end of their days, But clergymen sooner retire; The salary wanes as the preacher decays; The fees of the doctor rise higher. No wonder the ranks of the healers are full; No wonder young parsons diminish; 9 T is money that gives one profession its pull ; While want gives the other its finish. 20 The Newspaper 11 '* Swift-winged and dauntless, and ladened with thought, Incessant and countless, and everywhere bought; A friend of the friendless, and friendliest friend, Whose mission is endless till missions shall end. In gray of the morning, in dusk of the eve, Rough elements scorning, its wings the air cleave; To cottage and palace its message it brings; In freedom from malice to progress it clings. Unscathed by the lightnings, uncrushed by the storms, Ignoring the frightenings, it makes up its forms; When war-clouds are rising it flies with the light, All danger despising to herald the fight. Unfettered by compacts, unhampered by creeds, It watches the impacts and judges by deeds. By tyranny never from high purpose hurled, It chronicles ever the news of the world. *The foregoing lines originally appeared in the Detroit Free Press. A few other pieces in this volume were first published in the Christian Advocates of New York, Chicago, Cincinnati, and Detroit. A few others rnay be found in " Michigan Poets and Poetry/' Some of the temperance verses were composed for the author's book, " Black and White," and certain others for "Sunshine All the Year," but the main body of rhythm now before the reader appears in print for the first time. 21 The Editor Brain-worn and burdened the editor sits; Letters of inquiry puzzling his wits; Missives of rancor stinging his soul; Stop-paper orders pervading the whole. Articles able his judgment await; Frivolous messages enter his pate; Long-drawn reports, as shallow as long; Urgent insistence to rectify wrong. Here comes the printer, coatless and lone, Calling for "copy" in serious tone; Here a subscriber to talk for awhile, Dutiless hours of his to beguile. Restless his manner, this knight of the quill; Longing for moments disturbless and still; Littered his sanctum, forbidding and dim; Errandless callers are waiting on him. There goes the editor; day's work is done; Homeward his hying, setting the sun ; Greetings await him: children and wife Sweeten the charm of an editor's life. 22 Soothing and strengthening rest Is his pay; Gone is the weakening waste of the day. Dreamless his slumber, the dawn finds him new, Writing and fighting as editors do. t£r* 1£r* f&* The Office Seeker He wants the earth, the moon thrown in, The stars as stepping-stones; He would take heaven, except that sin Infests his marrow-bones. He claims each salaried place by right, In township, county, State; He 'keeps within his longing sight All stations of the great. He joins the Church, perhaps, and there Self-seeking is his aim; Advancement is his only prayer; To plot, his endless game. 23 He has the "big-head," has it bad, Yet wears a smallish hat; The "hurt look" makes his face seem sad, Imploring, and all that. Poor fellow ! Watch his shifting schemes ! See how they merge and blend! Though freighted with a thousand themes, They have a common end. That end is office for himself; No vacancy he brooks; He wants the honor and the pelf, Or else more "hurt" his looks. He holds some office all his life, And office seeks in death; For votes his last requests are rife; "Your vote" — his dying breath. And were it possible to note His maiden spirit speech, You 'd find him asking for each vote And office within reach. 24 Art Thou the Man? A man who would vote, For a two-dollar note, To sustain a political wrong, Would do any mean thing Which a penny would bring, And throw himself into it strong. A man who 'd retreat, Because of defeat, At the polls in the work of reform, Would fly from the foe And his country forego In the battle's terrible storm. A man who would faint, Or utter complaint, Because right triumphs not in a day, Would leave a good cause, Repeal righteous laws, And allow sin and evil full sway. A man who would shirk From duty and work, Because of the finger of scorn, 25 Like Peter of old, Would fly from the fold And leave his own Master forlorn. A man who would choose, And never refuse, Of two needless evils the less,* Would probably quite Surrender the right, If Satan should urgently press. t^" f2^ t&* Gold Mine Stock A thousand shares in mine of gold, Secured at less than par, I hold; A thousand shares at less than par, Secure within my coffers are. In golden Goldville's mine of gold Is placed the cash for stock I hold; 'Tis paper stock, I frankly own, But golden ink is o'er it thrown. * Of two evils choose neither. 26 A mine of gold, and golden stock, — I bought it cheap, a solid block; A block of stock I mean, not gold, A thousand solid shares I hold. "Not worth a cent!" "What *s that you say? Who dares with my fond hope to play?" "A thousand shares not worth a cent, Is what I said, and what I meant. "These gold mine stocks, to tell it straight, Are rarely worth their paper's weight; The stock for buyer's folly stands; The gold is in promoter's hands." Playing the Market Jim Sucker thinking he could land A fortune in a minute, He took the market top in hand And soon began to spin it. He bought a block of copper stock, The tip of broker taking; For quick advance he watched his chance, Big profit to be raking. By gamblers' game the profit came, But Sucker did not win it; The market flop upset his top, His fortune being in it. And so with frown he sat him down To think his folly over, And wisely said, by shake of head, "I '11 be no more a rover." And all the same the market game, As sure as you begin it, Will neatly sup your fortune up In just about a minute. By laying low the gamblers know Just how to trap a "sucker;" Then hoarsely laugh while drinks they quaff, To see his wrinkles pucker. 28 The King of Fruits An orange for me, an orange for you, Oranges all the season through; The boughs are bent with golden fruit, And blossoms scent the air to boot: Oranges, oranges! pick the best; Enough remain for all the rest. Now seek the shade and eat your fill; Go in, go in, with jolly will; Remove the rind, or leave it whole, No matter so you reach the goal. Cut in! squeeze out! the juice is there — An element beyond compare. Oranges, oranges, everywhere! Swift grown, quick sold, and shipped with care> The king of fruits, and fruit of kings, It flies the world on market wings. Oranges, oranges! Give me four, — You may retire, and close the door. 29 The Sealed Dungeon* Mysterious freak of tyrant mind! Satanic work of human kind ! A battlement of brick and stone, Enclosing helpless woman, lone; A dark, uncanny, living tomb; A wierd, unprecedented doom; A crime prodigious, mystic, dire; A fate unmatched by sword or fire. No annals of the earth contain A hint of like appealing pain. What fright! what grief! what horror there Within that dungeon of despair! My shuddering soul shrinks back in awe, And calls for penalty of law On e'en the relics left by time, As proofs of that infernal crime. *Note.— In the wall of the old Spanish fort at Pensacola, Florida, was discovered a dungeon containing the skeleton of a woman. The door to the dungeon had been bricked up, and then carefully plastered over to correspond with the surrounding wall, apparently for the pur- pose of concealing a crime. The engraving, made from a photograph, shows the opening in the wall made by the discoverers of the dungeon a few years ago. The dungeon is a dismal looking place. It is a remarkable fact that in nearly every one of the Old Spanish forts on this continent a dungeon has been found, and the history of these dark recesses, could it be written, would no doubt go far toward revealing the principal cause of Spain's decline. Dungeons and de- cadence go together, 30 H 33 > o o c o o Bring back their ghosts, and lay them low By one annihilating blow! No fire of hell has yet been built For purging such inhuman guilt. Hark ! the echo of a groan, The waning trace of fainter moan! It dies upon the distant air, The semblance of a woman's prayer. From out that dungeon sealed it came; It asks for help in pity's name; For water, food; for light, for breath; Relief from such a lingering death: It rises now — a startling cry — As from a spirit passing by; A call for justice, loud and clear, As if from an immortal sphere: 'T is an avenging angel's lay ; A Nemesis of judgment day. Will Justice sleep? Aye, sleep for long, But not for aye. Her arm is strong. Each barbarous deed but serves to speak The surer vengeance she will wreak 31 On men or nations steeped In crime And hardened by the lapse of time. Justice may sleep, but not for aye; She wakens on reprisal day. List! the deep-toned thunder's roar Intoning from a farther shore h It rises to a louder crash Amid the gleaming lightning's flash; An angry shot, a bursting shell, A loosening of the powers of hell: The air is rent; the sea is stirred; The day of wrath, so long deferred, Begins its dawn, lets loose its play In battle on Manila Bay. The ships go down! The lives go out! Beginning of a Demon's route. The earth itself in tremor shakes; Its inner fire again outbreaks, On Cuba's shot-rent, blood-stained sand, As near to Pensacola's strand As could the tyrant's ghost remain: He dies! and broken is his chain. And now, for aye, the dungeon sealed Hath opened on a wrath revealed. S2 Our Thinning Ranks (Dedicated to Union Survivors of the great Civil War) Hark! A Morris Island gun* Booms out beneath the Southern sun: An overt act; a proud defy To kinsmen 'neath the Northern sky; A proclamation winged by fire That slavery shall not expire; A hint that, though Rebellion frown, The North shall sit supinely down ; An ultimatum hurled with hate, Imperiling the Nation's fate; A vow that, though the blood may flow, The South shall be allowed to go. "What meaneth this?" the North inquires, Ere the report of gun expires. *The first shot on Fort Sumter was fired by an old Virginian named Edward Ruffln, with long white hair hanging down over his shoulders. He was very proud of the act, and often boasted of it. He survived the war, but lost all his property and became so insanely em- bittered that, at the close of hostilities, June 17, 1865, at the home of his son, near Danville, Va., he committed suicide by blowing off the top of his head with a gun. He left a note in his pocket saying, u I can not survive the liberty of my country." The wretched man was then almost eighty years of age. 3 33 "Davis answers rough and curt, With mortar, Paixhan, and petard, 'Sumter is ours, and nobody hurt; We tender Abe our Beau-regard.' "* • •••••• "Old Abe" receives the stinging note And sends a call for troops afloat: "Come forth, militia, far and near, In prime and ready fighting gear; For South Carolina, Georgia too, And sister States, have proved untrue To this Republic's gracious .laws, And have proclaimed Secession's cause!" They come, as loyal hearts and true As ever donned the Union blue; They come from desk and forge and farm, Responding to the stern alarm; They come with energy and zeal, To elevate their country's weal. Big Bethel halts their hurrying feet; Their boyish eyes the carnage greet; *TMs sarcastic answer in verse was actually sent by a Mr. Hooper, Secretary of the Montgomery Secession Convention, in reply to a question sent by the agent of the Associated Press at Washington, " What is the feeling there ? " 34 Brained by a cruel Minie ball, John Greble is the first to fall; Then Winthrop goes, and fourteen more, All dead, with wounded thirty-four. The trembling wires flash the news, And startled Northmen voice their views: "Let treason perish!" is the cry; "Let freedom live, though millions die!" More soldiers rally to the front, All nerved for warfare's dreadful brunt. Nor wait they long; their foes are there For their tenets to do and dare; The doctrine of "State rights" their creed, Provincial heresy gone to seed.* ♦During the entire nineteenth century, notably after the year 1830, the South had been imbibing and inculcating the doctrine of State Supremacy and Sovereignty, even to the extent of asserting the right of the State to construe the National Constitution for itself, and to declare at will the Tariff Acts of Congress to be null and void. The exponents of this doctrine took every occasion to give standing and force to their views, frequently opposing, or even defying, the laws made by the Federal Government. Finally the right of a State to secede from the Union on any pretext or for any purpose was boldly proclaimed, the Secessionists holding that each State was " free and independent," and could do as it pleased. But the North held differ- ently. It denied the right of any State to secede at will, or to nullify an Act of the National Government. It strenuously asserted that the Constitution of the United States had been adopted and ratified in every State by a convention of its people, and that if the right to repeal and rescind these acts of adoption and ratification existed at all, it must be exercised by the people of a State in convention assembled, 35 But mark you well; the heretic, When once confirmed, is strong and quick His cherished doctrines to defend; He holds them to the bitter end. No deadlier foes than heretics Long steeped in vicious politics; They fight sincere; they fear not death, Nor yield until they yield their breath. And such are they whose weapons flash, In eager heat with ours to clash; They meet us on Rich Mountain height, But yield not, though they lose the fight; They wait Bull Run. Alack the hour That calls in play their fighting power! Three thousand boys in Union blue Are strewn upon the red plateau; McDowell breaks, McClellan flies, And Freedom's beauteous goddess sighs. But naught can conquer Uncle Sam While Honest Abe says, "His I am!" and not by State officials or by political leaders. The North also insisted that the real motive of the Secessionists was the perpetuation and extension of slavery* and hence denominated the war as the " Slaveholders' Rebellion." In the very nature of the case these diver- gent views could be settled only by an appeal to arms, and this was done. 36 He gives to Rosecrans a star, McClellan stock sends up to par, As shrill he calls the country o'er, "Come forth, three hundred thousand more !" They come, the strong, the brave, the great, From Plymouth Rock to Golden Gate: Farragut, Sickles, Banks, Dupont, Halleck, Howard, Dodge, Fremont; The captains of a gallant host, Each plumed and ready at his post. At Wilson's Creek a Lyon bold With Sigel eeeks the field to hold. Brave Lyon falls; his troopers yield, And the insurgents hold the field. The hour is dark, but volunteers Rush forth amid the Nation's cheers. A battle here, a skirmish there, A blasted hope, a wailing prayer, Sore griefs, deep sighs, and floods of tears Proclaim rebellion's sorrowing years. A race from servitude is freed; Task-masters curse the luckless mede; m They curse and vow a vengeance sore On abolition heads galore, While good old Abraham opes the door And calls six hundred thousand more. He calls, and freemen swarm the land, While taking freedmen by the hand; Black regiments go forth to fight, And angry chivalry gropes in night. The months roll on; more troops march in, And swift ensues the battles' din. Fort Henry falls; then Donelson, And Grant looms on the horizon. Sherman is with him; battles rage, And Union chiefs flock on the stage: Thomas, McCook, and Crittenden, McPherson, Negley, Sheridan, Schofield, Sedgwick, Prentiss, Blair, Granger, Dahlgren, Canby rare, Kilpatrick, Sumner, there they go; Wallace, Logan, "Fighting Joe," Custer, counting fighting fun, Who never lost a flag or gun. 38 Oho ! What 's this in Hampton Roads, Which dire destruction now forebodes? A giant craft with iron sides In proud disdain the harbor rides. Give way ! Let gunboats clear the track I This monster is the Merrimac. But wait! A Yankee stirs his brain And takes on an inventive train. He turns a cheese-box upside down, A tiny floating raft to crown, Plants hell in germ beneath the wave, And ventures forth his land to save. A shot, a crash, an ugly tear, A skip, a dodge, now here, now there; The little cheese-box whirls around, Escapes the broadsides safe and sound, Deals deadly blows straight in the neck, And leaves the Merrimac a wreck. For Worden praise, and also for Both Ericsson and his Monitor. Now turn your eyes Arkansas way, See Curtis win the Pea Ridge fray; 39 Then on to Island Number Ten, With Foote the commodore, and men; Thence southward with the mortar-boats Until the starry ensign floats O'er old Fort Pillow's blazing walls, And helpless Memphis also falls. Now Butler captures New Orleans, And furious vixens vent their spleens. The "Father of Waters" soon is cleared, And conquering "Yanks" at last are feared. Now Murfreesboro stirs the land, While Vicksburg yields to Grant's demand ; The second Bull Run, under Pope, Adds little to the Union hope; From Williamsburg to Malvern Hill The desperate fights small purpose fill; Contending legions rise and fall; Stupendous killing crowneth all. Men call such action "civil war;" Death must himself the name abhor. Now come Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg; 40 On War's eternal roll of fame These names are writ in living flame. Here giant struggles reach their height; Armed men can know no fiercer fight; The hellish charges, charge-proof mounds; The bloody angles, corpse-heaped grounds; The deathless ardor, uncurbed will; The shattered armies, fighting still; Each nervy onset sharply fans The prowess of Americans; Here Stoneman, Cutler, Slocum, Meade, Their laurels win by noble deed; Here Reynolds brave and Whipple die, While Hancock, Rodman wounded lie; Virginia's army, riddled through, Hastens homeward, sick and blue; "Stonewall" Jackson breathes his last; Rebellion's brightest day has passed. On goes the fight, both East and West, By river side, on mountain crest; Ten thousands fall, to rise no more, Yet other thousands swift outpour, 41 And firm and strong the battle lines Are held amid the Southern pines; The men who die, but will not yield, Are still in evidence on the field. Now Resaca in Georgia falls, While Jackson's fate the world appalls ; Winchester by the sword is riven, With Earty in confusion driven; Corinth records a sorry day For the retreating men in gray; Chickamauga drenched with blood; Shiloh soaked with gory flood; Missionary's Ridge in flame;* All speak the deadly iron game; Lookout Mountain, wrapped in cloud, Foretokens a Confederate shroud; Atlanta won, leaves Sherman free For his astounding march to sea. "The silent man" now counts the cost; He never yet a battle lost; To end the war is his incline; To fight it out along that line; 42 To fight it out, without delay, Unto the latest summer day. And fight he does; his iron grip Comporteth -with his silent lip ; He fights the Wilderness campaign, Endures the Spottsylvania strain ; Ignores Cold Harbor's second rout, Approves the Five Forks brilliant bout; Dispatches Wilson on his raid, Mobile's seizure thus to aid; Tips Sheridan's effective moves ; Advances through the shot-hewn grooves ; Cuts Richmond's sources of supply ; Blows Petersburg into the sky; Tears Lee's defending lines apart; Strikes terror to Secession's heart; Sends Davis flying to the woods, With rattled Cabinet and goods, Where, caught in woman's guise, ill-starred, Our Pritchard pays him "beau-regard."* *At the time of his arrest near Irwinsville, Ga., Jefferson Davis had on a woman's shawl and a waterproof cloak, and these articles, to- gether with the spurs by which he was detected, are now in the archives of the National Government at Washington, D. C. Corporal George Munger, Oo. O., Fourth Michigan Cavalry, Colonel B. F. Pritchard commanding, was immediately present and assisted in his capture. 43 Now silence reigns; the guns are still, And Grant meets Lee on yonder hill; The Nation, glad at war's surcease, Approves the generous terms of peace. Brave men who fought on either side, Deep wading through the crimson tide, Heave one deep sigh, and all is o'er, The Blue and Gray contend no more. No more the Blue and Gray contend, Yet, who their hurts can e'er amend? Three hundred thousand loyal sons Have lost their lives. Disloyal ones As many more. And with the slain, Four hundred thousand breathe in pain. A million able-bodied men, On gory field, in prison pen, In hospital, or crippled state, All meet at length a soldier's fate; And this because, 'neath Southern sun, That Charleston Harbor venomed gun Hissed forth its challenge, hot and clear, To men who held the Union dear. 44 But pause ! A shot of pistol dread ! Great Abraham Lincoln bows his head! The rarest wine of life is spilled! The Nation's cup of grief is filled! The kindest, safest, best of men Has passed the bounds of mortal ken. A fiendish plot! A madman's deed, To make the hearts of freemen bleed. "Virginia is avenged!" he cries, As swift the vile assassin flies. But Corbett's gun ends Booth's career, While round the martyred Lincoln's bier The loyal millions, stunned with grief, Lament in tears their well-loved chief. Well may the South her sorrow lend; She, too, has lost her truest friend.* And we were there; and, we are here, Survivors of survivors dear; * Within the few days that intervened between the surrender of General Lee at Appomattox and the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, one in his close confidence prophesied that his plans of reconstruction would "win over the South's good will and affection, and astonish the world." And in giving his plans effect, there could be no question that General Grant would have aided him, because he had already set an ex- ample of magnanimity by the liberal terms of surrender given to Lee's army, and during the few last hours of his life he expressed the wish that there might be enduring peace betwixt the South and North. 45 A million strong we left the strife, Returned again to civil life; We 've struggled on through hopes and fears For lo! these four and forty years; And now a lingering scattered few, We soon must bid the world adieu. We 5 re falling fast. The reaper grim Knows how the keenest eye to dim; Knows how to muffle every ear, The fullest pulse to slowly sear; And, though the health have ne'er a fault, Knows how the strongest step to halt. Yet still our pulses thrill with life In memory of that fearful strife; Our eyes are dim, but quick to see Our glorious banner floating free; Our ears are dull, }^et on them fall The echoes of the bugle call; Our sentiments remain the same: We still detest Secession's name; Our principles are bright and strong: We love the right and hate the wrong; 46 Were Sumter fired on again, Our blood would stir the same as when We grasped the rifle and the blade, To make grim war our ruthless trade; We love the Union, cherish truth, The same as in our dashing youth. Our foes are friends. Most of them sleep In warless slumber long and deep; And when the trump shall bid them rise, There '11 dawn on their enlightened eyes This truth: Whatever be the cost, A WICKED CAUSE IS BETTER LOST ! t2r* «^* <£* The Grand Canyon Arizona! Arid zone! Nature's niche with grandeur sown! Evolution's wildest freak! Earthly wonder most unique! See that yawning Canyon Grand! See its sunken mountains stand! 47 See its mighty river roll! Feel its depth within your soul! O'er the gulf your vision cast; Gauge the distance, blue and vast; Search the depths, so calm and clear; Quell your doubtings, curb your fear. Note the towering pictured walls, On which dazzling sunlight falls; Red and purple, azure gray; Tinted rock and painted clay. Study those fantastic forms Chiseled out by Titan storms; Ancient capitols and domes, Phantom ships, and mystic homes. Stand in awe at chasm brink! Wierd-like inspiration drink! Think of God and boundless space! Bow the knee and veil the face! "Here 's the end !" my spirit cries ; Other scenes may greet my eyes; But till heaven its sights unfold, Canyon Grand first place shall hold. 48 The Common Chord On the placid Rappahannock, in the strifes of 'sixty- three, When the fight-scarred Federal forces coped with those of General Lee; Just at eve the armies halted, one on either side the stream, Halted ere to-morrow's battle, for the soldiers' sleep and dream. Dreams there are which know no slumber, dreams of home and kindred dear; Reveries and fond reflections, images of loved ones near ; Friend and foe alike are dreaming, dreaming in the waking state, Whether in the pending battle life or death shall be their fate. As the shades of twilight deepen, in the Rappahannock vales, Martial music breaks the stillness of the thickly-tented dales ; Union bands play "Yankee Doodle," the Confederate "Dixie" sound; Each responding to the other o'er the close-contested ground. 4 49 Now 't is "Maryland, My Maryland," on the homesick Southern side; "Hail, Columbia," play the Northmen; each the other's songs deride; "Pretty Maid of Sunny Southland" chant the bands from Southern posts; "Just Before the Battle, Mother," answer back the Northern hosts. Listen, now! for low and softly from a band far up the crest Comes a strain that stirs emotion in the stoutest soldier breast ; ? T is the melody familiar, "Home, Sweet Home," afloat the air; Common chord for "Yank" and "Johnnie," resting on their armor there. Resting, singing low and softly, led by bands in blue and gray, Tenderly the stern combatants sink to sleep or kneel to pray; And the music, toned by manhood, swells to heaven's warless dome, As it leaves the lips of soldiers longing for the joys of home. 50 The Land We Love Thou favored, prospered, honored land, With riches strewn by lavish hand; The refuge of the world's oppressed, Home-seekers' shrine and pilgrims' rest! Thou youthful Nation, strong and great, With sound ideas of Church and State! Thy plans and principles control Man's uplift toward a higher goal. Thou realm of liberty and light! To rectify the tyrant's blight, God called thee, from His radiant throne, To make His highest concepts known; To shine in justice, mercy too; To keep right thought and life in view; The cause of truth and w r orth to serve, And give to progress quickened nerve. Stand forth, acclaimed United States! With open, guarded, golden gates; Thy starry flag is still the sign Of freedom's far-extending line. 51 A Creature of Contradictions A man may be modest, and yet may be mean; May even be mirthful, and yet vent his spleen; He may stir the Four Hundred with Chesterfield air, And yet in his dealings be grossly unfair: How strange is man! A man may be tidy, and yet be unclean; His filth may be mammoth, and still be unseen; While nicely concealing his foulness of soul, A thousand indecencies through him may roll: How low is man! A man may be homely, and handsome besides; For beauty of heart over ugliness rides: May have an exterior rough as the sea, Yet stay in a temper as calm as can be: How fine is man! A man may accumulate little of wealth; May suffer through life for the want of good health; Yet riches of spirit in him may be found, And he may to life's end be most morally sound: How grand is man! 52 The Supreme Word What is the largest word in mortal speech? What is the noblest thought in human reach? Is it "position," "fortune," "fame," or "power?" Is it "the pleasure of the passing hour?" Is it "long life," "sweet death," or "home," or "heaven?" Is it "the prestige to a monarch given?" I turn from these, though good, and high, and great, And find in service man's supreme estate. Simply to serve, to help, befriend, and aid; This is the path to royal honors laid; This is earth's bliss — a bliss without alloy; This is the title clear to heaven's joy; This is the Christ-work, strong and pure and best — "Ye did it," or "Ye did it not," the test. Naught else for man hath such uplifting might; Naught else consoles in death's on-coming night. Serve on! serve well! serve much! and serve just now! Your heart, your head, your knee, in service bow! Serve God ! serve men ! Do what to hand appears ; This is the wine which throne-bound spirit cheers; 53 This is the substance of Life's savings fund; This is the gold immortals take beyond. For faith and love and hope in earthly call, Service stands forth the crown and proof of all. ffirf t2^ t&^* This Bad, Bad World "The world is growing worse," they say, "And men more wicked every day." But somehow I can scarce believe That we should take alarm, or grieve. If men are worse than men of yore; Of war and slavery why not more? If there is more malevolence, Why isn't ignorance more dense? Who builds the hospitals and schools, If there is growth of knaves and fools? And why do Churches multiply, If only rogues increase, say I? 54 Of old 't was said in sacred lays, The wicked live not half their days. Yet human life is lengthening out, And fell disease is put to rout. What makes this wickedness increase? Has God enlarged the devil's lease? Has God grown bad, or short of arm? Has virtue lost its regnant charm? How bad will all the world become? How soon will goodness be undone? When will hope die, and heaven close? And hell engulf the last of woes? I hear a sound; it travels far, The rattle of the trolley car. I hear a song; it rises high And echoes in the distant sky. I hear a call: "Send us your aid! Our city is in ashes laid." And progress wins. The gospel goes. While charity the world o'erflows. 55 Evolution Some hold this world divinely made; Some think it all evolved; Proofs for each view wise men have weighed, Yet not the problem solved. But one thing sure occurs to me — This fine old world is here; It came somehow, we can agree, No proof could be more clear. A man 's a man, and not an ape, E'en though from ape he sprang; Some process gave him human shape — Unlike the monkey gang. If there 's no Will, and no Design, But only trend, or chance, Then let 's be glad for Trend benign, Our manhood to advance. If evolution raised us up From molecule or worm, Then evolution takes the cup — It found the raising germ. 56 They talk about "descent," but I Prefer the word "ascend;" Let "fit" survive, and fitter try- Ascending to the end. O'er Law and Force and sovereign Power Wiseacres will dispute; They like the game, and never cower, Though felled by proofs astute. O'er "origin" they hold a spree — Spontaneous life bespeak; The life that is is good for me; Why new beginnings seek? Surviving life is "fit," they say; Then let my life survive; No life I '11 seek from lifeless clay, But just evolve and thrive. i&* i&^ $w^ The Day For Sorrow No day without gladness, No day without sorrow; Yesterday had its sadness, Let 's sorrow to-morrow. 57 The Glorious Sunshine The sunshine kisses every cheek And paints each lovely flower; It gleams in strength when winds are bleak, And brighter after shower. It knows no rank of creed or birth, Of saintliness or badness; But pours its splendor on the earth, With constancy and gladness. It's just as full for us to-day, As for the ancient fathers; About such things as times and dates It never even bothers. O glorious sunshine, free and fair! _ In thy bright beams, unfailing, We bask until we cleave the air, Eternal oceans sailing. 58 Bay View Among the charming grove retreats, Where classic Culture lends her care; Where Praise her litany repeats, And Reverence lifts her voice in prayer, — I know of one serene and bright, A peerless gem on Nature's breast, Where cooling breezes fan the night, And gentle voices lull to rest. A terraced frontage, tier on tier, The distant hills and dales look o'er, While varying landscapes cluster near And sparkling waters lave the shore; Where fiery steeds on tracks of steel The throttle bar and brake obey, And merry laughter, peal on peal, Awakes the echoes round the bay. In shady nook, on sunlit hill, The summer mansions greet the eye, While orators and songsters thrill The hearts of those who gather nigh. New thought for each, sweet strains for all, Abiding pleasure, constant zest; A cheery life in home and hall, And everything with gladness blest. 59 Poetic Locomotion There is poetry in riding; the speeding auto car Moves like the flow of rhythm, without a fault or jar; But poetry in walking has never been affirmed; This everlasting plodding a prosy thing is termed. There is poetry in sailing, in sailing far away, On ever-rolling billows, in blue and green and gray; But walking is not sailing, as every man has found Whose feet are ever moving, yet never leave the ground. There is poetry in flying ; who would n't take a waft With skillful aviator aboard a modern craft? But poetry in walking is not so quick discerned; Pedestrians are stalking as first the art they learned. Yet though these flying movements have their poetic charms, I envy not their rhythm, nor covet their alarms; Just let me walk as need be, from fear and danger free, And I '11 be very happy till wings are given me. 60 The Trolley High-mettled steed of the wire-girt ring; Tireless flyer of featherless wing; Pushing or pulling thy burden along, Rapidly, orderly, evenly, strong; Gracing the city with incoming guest, Cheering the suburb with outgoing zest; Haunting the highways at other times lone, Giving to rural life urbanly tone. Merciful helper of poverty vast, Merciless crusher of money-made caste; Knowing no titles, ignoring all claims, Carrying multitudes reckless of aims; Master of traffic and servant of toil, Yoking the merchants with tillers of soil; Keeping us moving, affording us rest, Hitched to the chariot of progress the best. Up in the early morn, shaming the sun; Filling with pleasure the night-hour run; Flashing the torches along the steel track, Bending to seasons with marvelous knack; 61 Breasting the storm-king's iciest zone, Neighing to summer, with heat and cyclone; Always and everywhere keenly alert, Groomed by the skill of electric expert. Here 's to the trolley-steed, friend of us all, Feeding on atmosphere, clouds for his stall; Asking no favors of animate life, Pledging his service through time-lasting strife, Measuring strength with the monarch of steam, Ready and quick as the flash of sunbeam; Nearing ideals each laboring day, Holding his value forever and aye. t^* JF* 4&r* The Auto A distant stir, a rush of air, A moment's whir, a glance, a stare, A polished sheen, a brilliant gleam, A greeting keen, a dash supreme, A sight, a scent, a fading view, A vision spent, — alone are you. 62 Part II Juvenile Jingles The poetry of morning hours The happy world is filling, For then the sheen is on the flowers And birds their glad notes trilling. 5 o in C H C < r The Polliwog A cunning little polliwog lived in a swale; His only way to travel was to wiggle his tail; He had n't any hands, and he had n't any feet, But when he went a-swimming he could n't well be beat. One day he ate his dinner and swam around the swale, And found his legs were growing longer than his tail; It made him feel so happy he jumped upon a log, And always ever after was a big bullfrog. Jr* t2^* t2r* The Quarry This life is a quarry, and ours the skill To cut from that quarry whatever we will; To mold and to chisel a character high, And fit it at last for a niche in the sky. 65 The Partners A kitten and a doggie sailed In loving, peaceful partner-ship; They never at each other railed, Nor let a cross expression slip. They would not scratch, nor growl, nor bite, Nor pull each other's fur nor hair; They never had a single fight, Nor pain of ugly wound to bear. Their vessel was a basket old, And each was captain, fore and aft; Each was a mate and pilot bold, And neither ever cursed or laughed. They simply used their common sense, And always wore a pleasant look; And now they have their recompense — Upheld as models in a book. 66 A PLEASANT LOOK "If I Had Money" "If I had money" I would build A business structure vast, With shelf and counter treasure-filled, And salesmen selling fast. "If I had money" I 'd erect A dwelling fine and strong, With lawns and gardens flower-decked, And music all day long. "If I had money" I would give To every worthy cause; The sick, the poor, the lone should live At ease without a pause. And since I have some cash in fact, With more I hope to earn, I will begin the giving act, Lest I may never learn. 67 Christmas, Then and Now* In early Christian centuries Our blessed Lord's nativity Was by our fathers first observed. And how the modern world has swerved From Christmas customs then in vogue, For now the harsh, blood-thirsty rogue, In desperate work and fiercer play, No longer rules this natal day. While Diocletian ruled the East, Good Christians met in solemn feast, Within their church this day to keep — To praise and pray, to sing and weep. The fiercest persecutions raged. The foes of Christ were all engaged To crush His Church and curse His name, And all His followers put to shame. * *The observance of Christmas can not be traced back farther than the second or third century. History shows that during the persecu- tions under the Roman emperors, the followers of Christ were in the habit of celebrating the nativity of their Lord. Thus Cave cites from Baronius the following sad story of one of the earliest of these observ- ances: M While the persecution raged under Diocletian, who then kept his court at Nicomedia, the tyrant, finding multitudes of Christians, young and old, met together to celebrate Christ's nativity, commanded the church door to be shut, and fire put to it, which reduced them and the church to ashes." 68 So to this church these demons went, As if from hell they had been sent. They gathered round, a surging crowd, With threatenings fierce and curses loud. They fastened all the windows down, Secured the doors, and then to drown The trembling cries and prayers within, They raised a wild, appalling din; While on the windward side they piled The fagots high, with tar defiled. The ready heap they set on fire, And louder yelled as slowly higher Around the house of God the smoke, With glaring flames, like heavy cloak With crimson lined, rose thickly up. "We 11 make you drink the bitter cup Of death by fire!" they madly screamed To those within, who strangely seemed To be above their cruel power, Though doomed to death that fearful hour. For while these rough, incarnate fiends Sought vent to hatred in such means 69 Of cruel torture, there arose From hearts resigned to human woes, Within that flame-enwrapped retreat, High upwards to the mercy seat, A thousand sweet, forgiving prayers In their behalf, that from the snares Of Satan these their murderers might Be rescued, and from heathen night. And thus 'mid cursing jeers without, And prayer within, and happy shout, This temple raised to God on high Was burned in the third century; And hundreds of God's happy saints, Without retractions or complaints, Within its walls resigned their breath — Rejoicing in a martyr's death — And while their bodies melted down, Their spirits rose to wear the crown; And all because on Christmas day They met within their church to pray. Lo, what a change ! From out the world All persecution has been hurled, 70 And fearless Christians now convene To celebrate in chosen scene This happy day. In temples grand, And homes and halls in every land, In peace and praise and merry glee, They gather round the Christmas tree, Whose branches bend with heavy weight Of tokens small and tokens great, While round about a multitude Of young and old expectant brood. The light that flashes on it high Reflects in many a beaming eye; The sweets which hang upon its boughs Will soon fill up the watering mouths. The toys, from ape to rocking-horse, The boys will certainly endorse. The rings and pins and bracelets fair The charming maidens soon will wear; While in their gloves and wrappers warm, Young men will laugh through many a storm. For quilt or coat or fur or dress The old their thanks will oft express; For furniture and silverware Good wives will banish many a care; 71 For solid, odd, or useful gift The men will feel an added thrift. O ho ! what splendid sight is this, For prancing boy and pretty miss; To see the candy hanging high, The girl lifts up the baby nigh. At sight of boat with flags and sails, One boy 's on tip-toe — language fails. The next boy holds his hands behind — Few gifts his own he thinks to find. With watch or locket in her hand, One thoughtful miss is seen to stand; As something never seen before, Two tiny cherubs talk it o'er. That girl who sees the costly doll, To have it hers would give her all. A brother dear is at her side — A jumping- jack he has espied. And so, a hundred children round, With eager expectation crowned, Await Old Santa's word and will, Whose coming soon their hearts will thrill; Then what a happy band there '11 be Around the lardened Christmas tree. 72 THE LADENED CHRISTMAS TREE Nature's Own Beverage Cold water for me, Abundant and free, Assuaging my thirst where'er I may be; In woodland or vale, By roadside or trail, Cold water a friend that shall nevermore fail. Cold water for you, None better to view, A solace approved by the wise and the true; No ill from its use, No call for abuse, For turning to other there is no excuse. Cold water I bring, Clear and pure from the spring, As healthful as air, good enough for a king; From a sparkling tide, By the cool hillside, This cup of refreshing I bring you with pride. 73 Only Only a bit of yellow stain; Only a little cigarette; Only a youth's disordered brain; Only a life-wreck to regret. Only a little "coffin-nail;" Only a habit 'neath contempt; Only a face encoffined, pale; Only a home from joy exempt. <^" l2r* t&* Content With Little When nature hath but little need, A little is enough; When man hath gained enough with speed, Contentment is the stuff. 74 in W X > r G a G m to I—* H Dem Melons I knows just whar dcm melons are; Dem melons ripe and fine; Dey grows up in de patches dar, Just o'er Mas' Linkum's line. I 'se watched them growin' all de year ; I 'se prayed for sun and rain ; I 'se seen dem in de moonlight clear, From Massa Linkum's lane. I 'se hoed among 'em f roo de day ; I 'se watched 'em in de night ; And in de co'ner by de way I 'se had a lushus bite. Dem melons is de bes' what grows ; I wish dey 'd alias grow ; For den, as Massa Linkum knows, I 'd in his patches hoe. 75 The Meanest Thing in the World In life I have traveled o'er many a mile, By railroad, by steamboat, on horseback, on foot; The big world I 've seen in its pomp and its style, And endured the stern hardships of warfare to boot. Of monarchs hard-hearted, like Nero, I 've read, Delighting to revel in frolics of blood; Of barbarous minions mutilating the dead And drenching fair lands with a warm, crimson flood. The traitor I 've known, so detested by all ; The pimp and the harlot, to decency blind; The dirty old miser, with wealth in his hall, Yet selfish and stupid, despised by mankind. Scolding wives I have known, vicious, ugly, and keen; Husbands lost to compassion and dripping with shame ; Fretful, peevish old maids, queerly tempered and mean, And husky old bachelors, morally lame. 76 Over smokers and chewers men make great ado; The habit is filthy, offensive, condemned; So also the drinker, the sot is so low That paint him in language I do not pretend. But of all the world's foibles, its weakness, and sin, I pause at a temper eclipsing the whole ; It causes more trouble, creates a worse din, Than all other habits which darken the soul. Take heed to the demon which now I indict! Beware of its spirit, lest long you regret; The meanest of mean things, the farthest from right, Is temper that will not forgive nor forget. JP 1&* t£r* Two Neighbors A STUUDY man, Pluck was his name, In strenuous tasks was always found; He climbed the steps of noble fame, And left his neighbor, Luck, uncrowned. 77 What Am I? No man hath ever seen me, yet fan I every cheek ; No man can breathe without me, however strong or weak ; No man hath ever heard me, though all may hear my sound ; No man can e'er control me, nor trace my mystic round. I go where'er it please me, and come again at will; I move with rapid motion, or gently, slow, and still; I never have been weary, though active day and night; I 'm sometimes rather dreary, and often men affright. I glory in the forest, and love to sway the trees ; At home upon the prairie, I make men seek their lees; Upon the mighty ocean I have unstinted sway, And on the lofty mountain I find a place to play. The places where I go not, as down beneath the deep, Are places men may know not, though many there may sleep. I stay with men in pleasure; I stay with them in pain; I cling to mortals ever till they rest beneath the main. 78 At Wit's End "I know not what to do," he said, "I know not what to do; I 've stirred my brain, and wracked my head, And pumped my judgment too; But how to turn, or what to do, In this perplexing plight; To act, yet not my action rue, Is what gets me to-night. "I know not what to do," she said, "I know not what to do; To this queer point I have been led, Vexatious tangles through; But how to turn, or what to do, Surpasses my decree; Would I could see the future through And know the best for me." "We know not what to do," they say; "We know not what to do ;" This life brings puzzles every day, And visions dim to view ; 79 We 're all alike in one respect — A nonplused, baffled crew, — We reach the points where we reflect And "know not what to do." l£r* f&* t£r* At Wisdom's Beginning "I 'l:l do my very best," he said, "In puzzling places here; The best I know, and go ahead In my assigned career. Should doubts extreme at length impede My onward, upward swing, I '11 try to settle them with speed And take more rapid wing." "I '11 do my very best," she said, "Though come to me what may; The best I can, at every tread, And onward urge my way; To exercise a judgment quick, To keep in working frame, At every task to closely stick, Shall be my constant aim," 80 And here is where the wise begin To live the wisest life; The life that 's sure the prize to win, No matter what the strife: They write upon their banner bright This motto brave and blest — "In every peril, every plight, I '11 do my very best." Qgr* 1&* tlr* A Mighty Cable Habit is a cable; Our words and actions make it; Its strands we ? re daily weaving ; At length we can not break it. Opportunity Our golden opportunity Is in the bright to-day; The future may not come to us, The past has sped away. 81 "My 'ittle Pickaninnie" I is happy as a clam, sah; happy as de singin' la'k; Happie' dan de bo-ideal when he goes his gi'l to spa'k ; For my hea't is light as fedders, yes^ as light as a balloon, 'Cause my 'ittle pickaninnie nebber '11 see dat bad saloon. I feels st'onger dan Gib'alta' and de hills ob ole Quebec, 'Cause I know dose whisky selle's nebber can my" cabin wreck ; Dey will nebber get my chill'en; my ole man will now be free, And dis 'ittle pickaninnie will an angel allays be. I is rich as Creasus' kingdom, and as Rockefella's, too; And jes' like de kings and princes I can almost allays do ; For my man will keep a diggin', sober, ebe'y day de same, And my 'ittle pickaninnie '11 hab some money to his name. Safe and rich and strong and happy, — can I ebbe' ask for more? Dis is like de berry heb'en ober on dat golden shore ; And if dey '11 keep out de licke's I will allays bless de Lawd, And my 'ittle pickaninnie '11 be de angels' best rewawd. 82 . '/T MY 'ITTLE PICKANINNIE' Let It Go If you make a sad mistake — One that gives you keen heartache To correct it courage take, Then, for own and others' sake, Let it go! Let it go! If involved in trouble sore, That which stirs you to the core, Put it down, or pass it o'er; Holding trouble makes it more, — Let it go! Let it go! Should there come a grievous loss, Turning gold to utter dross, Bear it as you would a cross Or away the burden toss; Let it go! Let it go! If surprised by a rebuff, Curt and surly, mean and rough, Class it with life's worthless stuff; Call it bluster, buncombe, bluff; Let it go! Let it go! 83 Should your work with failure meet, Never let it cause retreat; Wiser effort quick repeat, Wring success from your defeat; Make it go! Make it go! t£& t2/* tr* Fight It Out f Fear is not cured by fleeing, but facing and fighting." — Life Line If you have a milky liver And at bugbears quake and quiver, Don't forget that, while you shiver, Craven fear is no pluck-giver: Dash right in and fight it out. If there 5 s no escape from trouble, Though precaution you redouble, All your moral force undouble; Treat the trouble as a bubble: Face the issue ; fight it out. If you meet an ugly fighter, Tight the place, and growing tighter; 84 Fear won't make the outlook brighter, Nor the monster's fist much lighter: Gird your loins, and fight it out. If in mortal dread of dying, Always scared, and ever sighing, Sick of pills and potions trying; Then, on God's good help relying, Brave the ailment; fight it out. l2r* t£r* tfi^ "Thirteen" "Unlucky," they say, is the number "thirteen," As if figures could influence fate. What experts are the gods, as observers how keen, If ill-luck always turns upon date! Every month to our race its "thirteen" tosses out; Not a man from "thirteen" can escape; Why is n't each life by this fact put to rout, And each door-knob surmounted by crape? One-thirtieth of men on the "thirteenth" are born? Dame Nature the figures defies; 85 Why do n't these "thirteenths," in a spirit forlorn, In proof of ill-fortune arise? If luck is a factor in "thirteen" affairs, Or "thirteen" a factor in luck, Why has n't the world, in its war upon cares, Cast out this big bogy w T ith pluck? To this bugbear "thirteen," in the silliest ways, In terror through life you may stoop; But you surely will find at the end of your days You have been but a victim and dupe. For this number "thirteen" is as good as the rest ; Believe it; you never will rue; For it never brought ill to the worst or the best,— And this is a sensible view. l2r* l2F* ifi^ A Business Secret In business learn this secret art — The key to shekel-taking; In all success the major part Is due to friendship-making. 86 THE FLYING FISH The Flying Fish The flying fish, upon my word, Is rarer than a swimming bird. A duck, a gull, a swan afloat, Is nothing over which to gloat. But 't is a most surprising thing To see a real fish take w T ing. A splash, a flash, a streak of light, A speed quite like an arrow's flight; And while the gaping tourist cheers, The fin-wing creature disappears. t2F* t&* i&* 'Git Up and Git" A homely adage, sure enough, In its English, feeble stuff; But remember, Church or State, Up and getting make men great. 87 How To Grow Old There is no trick in growing old; 'Tis natural, like teething; Retaining on your life a hold, You simply keep a-breathing. Then, later on, when strength is full And business cares are seething, You on your life renew your pull And persevere in breathing. And when at last you make your will, Your chattels all bequeathing, Your grip on life retaining still, You keep your lungs a-heaving. 'Tis all in breathing, don't you see? Mortality defying, Each person lives, as all agree, Till breathing stops in dying. 88 How To Stay Young Let me state a wholesome truth: Perfect health is constant youth; Swift decay advances age; Doldrums o'er diseases rage. Keep your health, if nothing more! Hold vitality in store! Do the things which quicken zeal! Shun excesses; ills conceal! Foster strength by genial task ! Breathe fresh air; in sunshine bask! Move along discovery lines; Newness rouses and refines ! Keep your face in pleasant pose! Turn from troubles; bury woes! Never be afraid to laugh! Never stoop to vulgar chaff! Do n't expect to gain too much Lucre, pleasure, fame, and such! Be content with what you need! Banish gluttony and greed! 89 In your calling do your best! Regulate your toil and rest! Strive in virtue to excel! Youth stays long when treated well. t£r* Vr* t&* Bumpy Bump Bumpy Bump was his name, and his life was a fright, For he lived in a stew, thinking nothing was right ; Or if nothing was wrong it was simply because Bumpy Bump could not state or discover the flaws. Bumpy Bump was a frowner on everything bright; Nothing gay could he brook, and he sought no delight ; He would govern the world by most rigorous laws, And compel every man to espouse his own cause. Bumpy Bump was alert and quite ready to fight Any half-hearted friend or opponent at sight; Every view not his own would unloose his big jaws, And his wrath would pour forth without ever a pause. 90 Bumpy Bump held his faith with a grip that was tight, And he spurned doctrines new with the breath of his might ; He had never a use for new-fangled gew-gaws, Nor for popular whims, nor for ringing applause. All the hoary old creeds Bumpy Bump could recite; All the dogmas and proofs he could quickly indite; Any hymns that were new were as worthless as straws, And for all sorts of games he had only haw-haws. Bumpy Bump at the last reached a solitude quite, For no mortal in charity pitied his plight; Every one had been bled by the teeth of his saws, And all stood aloof from the clutch of his paws. t£T* tfi^ 1r* Duty and Beauty Line of duty — never swerved; Line of beauty — always curved; Follow duty through and through, Beauty line will follow you. 91 An Unconcealed Weapon Would you a keen-edged weapon bear, And use it too the while? — A weapon always right in place, A weapon never in disgrace, That well becomes an honest face? — Then wear a genial smile. Would you to conquest oft attain, And live in victor's style; Yet ne'er inflict one bit of pain, Although you see ten thousand slain? Then wield that weapon of domain — A heartfelt, genial smile. Would you as conquering hero win Ovations by the mile? Then kindness steep your spirit in; The deeds of brother-love begin, And from your forehead to your chin Take on the genial smile. 92 A Siren Voice "What do they say?" said he; "What do they say to thee? What do they say in the club o'er the way ? What do they say of me?" "What do they say or think? How do they squint or wink? Does any one smile at my latest style? What are their words in ink?" "What do they say?" said he; "How far do they agree? What is my fate in their estimate? What will their verdict be?" Thus ever the siren quest Is ringing from East to West; "What do they say of my doings to-day? What do they think is best?" Contempt for opinion's slave! Disdain for the sneering knave! Let the siren go to her chamber of woe! Stand forth in the big world, brave! 93 My Little Mission I can not be a sun complete, but I can be a ray, And shine in some poor fellow's heart, benighted and astray ; I can not chase away the gloom from continent and sea, But I can show a brother lone how dear he is to me. I can not lift from lake and stream the vapor-forming rain, And pour it forth in gentle showers upon the thirsty plain ; But I can lift the lighter mists from sorrow-stricken eyes, And point the drooping spirit up to mercy's bending skies. I can not gild the mountain tops with luster shining far, But I can cause a human eye to sparkle like a star; By gentle word and loving deed I can dispense good cheer, And thus create a little world of sunshine round me here. 94 Part III Incidental Ditties The things that happen by the way, From current life outcropping, Oft bring the risables in play, Despondency estopping. "Cut It Short" A gentleman sat in a barber's high chair, The barber was cutting the gentleman's hair; Was cutting and talking, as barbers will do, In fact he was talking a real streak of blue. A newspaper lay on the gentleman's knee, For trying to gather the late news was he; But the barber's glib tongue kept rattling right on Till much of the gentleman's patience was gone. "Will you please cut it short?" the gentleman said; He meaning the tale, but the barber instead Supposed it an order to shorten the hair, And rapidly clipped at the hirsute so fair. He rapidly clipped, and kept talking the while, Kept talking in genuine barberous style Till, growing indignant, the gentleman said, "O, do cut it short, for it hurteth my head !" So shorter and shorter the crop of hair grew, But longer and longer the tale, till there flew Quick and hot from the lips of the gentleman bored, "Cut it short, or I '11 leave !" and quite true to the word, 7 97 The barber he cut, and kept cutting some more, While talking and talking as ever before; Kept cutting and talking, a clippity-clip, Till the customer's scalp was as bare as his lip. And so when the gentleman left the high chair He was plus a long tale, but was minus a hair; And never thereafter did he try to read While barbers were cutting his hair with such speed. Overloaded A bungle-headed, beardless youth Took down his father's gun; Into it put a mammoth charge, And thought he 'd have some fun. Not satisfied with loading once, So high did he aspire, He crowded down a second charge, Then was afraid to fire. And so he kept on loading up, To complicate the puzzle, 98 Until the added charges filled The musket to the muzzle. Just then his grandmamma came in And asked him what he 'd done ; Said he, "I Ve got it loaded up," — Then took his hat and run. The old and brave, good-natured dame Reproved the running wight, Then seized the gun, the hammer raised, And pointed toward the light. She pulled the trigger with a jerk, Then took a mighty bound; The gun had knocked her off her feet And hurled her to the ground. At that the lad came running back, The roar had turned him round; He saw the woman struggling up, And groaning with a wound. "Lie still, old grannie," said the lad, "You 've only shot off one ; When you have fired eleven more You'll have an empty gun." 99 Moral. Beware of guns which others load, For often you will find A dozen loads instead of one, To make sure work behind. <^" ttgr^ l2r* The Catholic School I *ve traveled east and traveled west ; 1 5 ve gone the country o'er ; I ? ve seen the worst and sought the best, As others have before; But one thing plain in all my search, I note that as a rule, Wherever you find a Catholic church You '11 find a Catholic school. The priest is priest, and teacher too; He hears the old confess, And sees the young instructed through Their years of tenderness; He plants the cross and swings the birch, For Rome is never a fool; 100 She knows the way to build the Church Is through the Catholic school. Let Protestants much wisdom learn — The wisdom tried by age — Nor foolishly the lesson spurn, Nor nullify by rage; See Roman diligence employed To make the papal tool; Your boy or girl or mine decoyed Within the Catholic school. f tf& Qfirf t&f Bathing Superfluous A clergyman of Georgia who was quartered for the night In an isolated cabin found himself in luckless plight; No facilities for bathing — no, not even of his face — Could be found within his chamber or adjacent to the place. 101 When the morning light had broken, he a requisition made For a wash-bowl and a towel, and a comb of any grade ; When the junior of the household, late appearing from beneath, Brought a rusty tin and dishcloth, and a comb with seven teeth. Sitting down, he watched the preacher in his toilet-doing act, And then asked him, quite astonished, whether, as a sim- ple fact, He performed the same ablution every morning without fail- All the washing, combing, wiping, and the cleaning of the nail. Being answered "Yes," the urchin one more query but- ted in; It was, "Mister, don't you sometimes think it is a sort o' sin To be makin' so much trouble for yourself as well as us By keepin' up this washin', wipen', combin', cleanin' fuss?" 102 The Little Grayback The soldier's boon companion, his faithful body-guard, That shares his bed and raiment, and keeps him watch and ward, That never leaves his person, nor asks a day's release, Nor runs away in battle, nor shirks in time of peace. He 's smaller than a bedbug and slower than a flea, Yet every Union soldier with me will quite agree That when he wants his rations he '11 get them in a trice, And cause more lively scratching than cats pursuing mice. I 've seen a thousand soldiers along the beaten track, And not a man among them with shirt upon his back; Their garments they are searching, deep down in every seam, For graybacks love snug quarters in which to sleep and dream. They 're fast in taking rations, but slow in getting filled ; They 're lively in their travels, and multiply when killed ; A more tormenting creature hath ne'er survived the flood, Nor cursed the race of Adam, nor feasted on his blood. 103 I 'm glad these little graybacks have left the scene of strife ; 1 'm glad that boiling water is fatal to their life ; I hope all Union soldiers will keep so clean and nice That down to Satan's quarters will go all body lice. 1&t 9£r^ f£r* Critics and the Patriarchs A preacher old, of Scottish cult, Defending Bible truth, Arraigned the critics high and low — All infidels, forsooth. "My freens," he cried, "when ane ye tak With skeepticesm's ways, Nae one can teel where ye 'el come oot With patriarchal days. "These men lived long, too long by far To suit the creetiks* view; So fix 'em up, in modern ways, And make 'em young and new. 104 "The creetiks say that we must coont The patriarchal yeers As oonly months — divide by twelve — Their troothful age appears. "Methuselah was therefore not A thousand yeers of age, But oonly seventy-five at moost — This helps the Sacred Page. "A dacent age is that for man, As you will all agree; But pay me heed, my freens, to this One thing that poozles me: "Fine thing this noo-fledged learning is- For Noah, strong and bold, The father of two sons became When airily 'five years oold." 105 The Fly Trap A bachelor, to clear his room Of flies that broke his slumber, Two sheets of sticky paper bought, The insects to encumber. He placed the open sheets on chairs Beside his bed so handy; And then went out to take a smoke And buy a box of candy. Returning when the clock had struck His hour for retiring, He had forgotten both the traps Set for the insect miring. And carelessly he sat him down Plump on one sticky paper; Then, jumping, pulled his trousers off, Chagrined by such a caper. And backing to the other chair, Trap number two ignoring, He dropped — but soon was in the air — Half-dazed, full-mad, and roaring. 106 The Preacher and the Robber A youthful circuit rider of the old-time circuit school Was appointed to "Brush College" in accordance with the rule. The college was a great one in those early gospel days, And our rider was a model in all Methodistic ways. So he jumped astride his roadster, having filled his sad- dle-bags, And proceeded on his journey through the woods and swamps and snags ; The journey was a long one and required fortitude, But the preacher was a strong one, though he needed ample food. Along the route so lonely there were none to cheer his way, Not a living being met him through the livelong sum- mer day ; And only one overtook him — a man of giant mold, On a furious charger mounted, in demeanor rough and bold. 107 "Whither bound, my fellow?" quizzed the stranger, hoarse and low, Half conceding by his manner that he had no right to know. But the preacher answered promptly, "I am bound for Zionview And the settlements adjacent; are you also going through?" "I am not," replied the stranger, "but to Robberville instead ; And if you prefer to do so, you can share my board and bed. We will reach my destination just about the set of sun, And you will feel, I reckon, that your journey then is done." "Are there no taverns on the route, sir," asked the cir- cuit-riding youth. "Not a tavern," said the stranger, "nor a settlement; in truth, My hovel is the only one which you will see to-day; And unless you sleep outdoors, sir, in that you '11 have to stay." 108 The preacher paused, suspecting he had missed his proper road, For he had been instructed that a Methodist abode Would be open to receive him just at the set of sun, If he urged his pony forward as he hitherto had done. "No use to stop here, captain; there is naught to feed upon; You can not back your journey, for the day is nearly gone. 1 5 11 see you safe till morning if you have the cash to P a y; My hut 's as good as any, and it lies along your way." The preacher eyed the stranger while he talked of "hut" and "cash," And felt his undertaking to be nothing else than rash. Alone through such a forest he had bravely ventured forth, But now he wished he had n't by all his money's worth. But he made a quick decision, and resolved to go ahead ; Politely thanked his fellow for the proffered board and bed; 109 Made a turn in conversation and religion introduced, Proclaiming free salvation till he reached the robber's roost. Lo, what a change! the matron quick to meet him at the door, Gave the pastor such a welcome as he ne'er received be- fore; The "hut" he so much dreaded proved a heaven for the night, With something added to his "cash" to cheer him in his plight. No need of explanation, though the "stranger" thought it fit— For he had feigned the "robber" just to try the preach- er's grit; It cheered his heart immensely not to see his pastor dodge, And he welcomed him forever to his old itinerant lodge. 110 OLD SAMBO Old Sambo Old Sambo to the market went With basket large, but not a cent. He passed along from stall to stall And priced the tempting produce all. "De price am fair, de goods am fine; I wish," he said, "some cash was mine." At length he paused. A happy thought On his low-pressure brain had caught. He could not buy. If he could borrow, He might return the change to-morrow; But where the tradesman who would lend To one who had no cash to spend? He chose his man and asked the loan In modest, low, beseeching tone. To his surprise, consent was given, And Sambo thought himself in heaven; He did until the dealer made Conditions for the luckless trade. His plan was this: Sambo with vim Might fill his basket to the brim; 111 Then, generous man, Sambo could pay His debt upon the following day ; But, goods included, bargain fair, Sambo must leave his basket there. Old Sambo stood in musing mood, Quite loath to leave the pawn-held food: "Dis loan," said he, "am not de ting Dat does de bestest pleasure bring; Instead of goods lent to the poor, Sambo would lose his basket sure." ffiP t£rf t&f Unchangeable Identity From town a pert professor came, This truth to give a wider range — Identity remains the same, Although materials may change. A hearer rose, of rustic life, And this peculiar statement made: "A year ago I bought a knife, But soon did lose the pretty blade; 112 "I then a new blade had put in, And, to prevent the losing game, I had the new blade not so thin; Now did my knife remain the same?" "Yes," the professor quick replied, And spoke the answer with a will, "An object, with a part supplied, Remains the same old object still." "Well," said the rustic, sober-faced, "My losing luck was still to blame; The handle lost, I had replaced; Now does my knife remain the same?" "Yes," said the speaker, though confused, And possibly a little vexed; . "It is the same." His hearers mused, And wondered what was coming next. "Then," said the querist, "luck reversed; I found the blade and handle old, Put them together, same as first — Which knife doth now the sameness hold?" 113 The Irishman's View of Immersion* Thrae times 1 5 ve read the Bible through, And once upon me bended knaes; The essence of its doctrines drew, And marked its precepts, words, and ways. Immarsion sure it does contain, If only by example rare; I sarched for this and sarched it clane, And God did grant my arnest prayer. Thrae cases of immarsion clear Are in the Howly Book made known; The spranklers need not greatly fear, For faith the thrae stand all alone. For number one the flood survives; It whelmed the race — each mither son — Save Noah, wife, and sons and wives, Who sure were sprankled, ivery one.f *Note.— In one of the Methodist Conferences of Canada was a preacher who had the habit of mingling the brogue of the Emerald Isle with his English utterances, and being a man of wide reading and keen wit, and very sharp and sarcastic in controversy, he came to be known as " The Wild Irishman." He prepared a course of lectures on the sub- ject of baptism, arguing strongly for sprinkling as the only proper mode, and after working up his audience to the highest pitch of excite- ment on the subject, leaving the immersionists with not a grain of comfort, he would wind up his remarks, amid convulsive laughter, with a narration of his own experience, substantially as above. fl Peter 3; 20,21. 114 Ah, spranklcd? yes, I make no doubt, Though mankind seldom see such sights; The Bible says it rained about The space of forty days and nights.f For number two I here recall King Pharaoh and his mighty hosts; The dape Red Sea submarged them all, So of this proof immarsion boasts. The Jews were sprankled, 't is maintained ; A strong wind o'er them dashed the spray ;^ The Psalmist says it also rained, 'Mid thunderings loud and lightning's play.f The last example which I fooned, Was where the divil swine disparsed; Toward "a steep place" they made a boond, And plunging down were all immarsed. Yet of this case, I here must say, Dapely one fact my mind impressed; The immarsed were hogs, yet even they Were not immarsed until possessed. fGenesis 7: 4, % Exodus 14: 21. $ Psalms 77: 16, 17, 18. 115 In a Bishop's Bed Last night I slept in a bishop's bed, And marvelous were my dreams; A thousand cares flashed through my head Like dust-charged sunshine beams. A preacher bright, in deference asked For an appointment high; While laymen strong the wish unmasked That I would pass him by. A preacher's wife in tearful stand My sympathy implored; A needless change was the demand Of their official board. Committees came in stern array, Expressing want and woe; Some asked for pastors still to stay, And some bade theirs to go. With elders oft I wrestled hard, In plan and plea and prayer, That worthy men might be prepared To go they knew not where. 116 And restless Churches by the score Before my vision rose, Their needs rehearsing o'er and o'er Until my vitals froze. I rolled and tossed my weary frame In dread that o'er me crept; When lo! to consciousness I came, „ And thanked the Lord — and slept. An Attachment A bachelor sheriff by duty was called, A writ of attachment to serve; Though a widow of note was the party involved, From duty he could not swerve. He called at the door and politely did say — "I have an attachment for you!" She blushed and returned, in the naivest of way, The reciprocal compliment due. "But," answered the officer, red in the face, "My meaning you do n't understand ; 117 You must go into court and plead in the case, As charged by the law of the land." "Ah!" answered the widow, "I know it's leap year; But courting I leave, sir, to you!" "Zounds!" thundered the bachelor, making it clear, "My part of the service is through; "The justice is waiting your coming just now; Repair to the court and be heard!" "The justice!" she said, "why dearest, I vow A parson is greatly preferred." 1£r? 1£r* t£T* No Stuttering Women (A physician remarks that " women who stutter are very scarce. ") Aye, the women will not stutter; they propose to talk it straight; They may talk it bright and early; they may talk it good and late; They may talk it keen and lively ; they may talk it sweet and gay; But they will not st-t-stutter, in a queer, spasmodic way. 118 Did you ever see a woman for one moment hesitate When she wants to do some talking, to commend you, or berate; Did you ever see her stumble over syllable or word In a nervous, jerky fashion, with her every sentence blurred? Ask a woman any question ; ask the question anywhere ; Ask it quickly, ask it slowly; she will never stand and stare, With her jaws a t-t-twitching and her words half blurted out, As she turns embarrassed from you, or goes staggering about. I have known the men to stutter, t-t-times again repeat, T-t-trying words to utter when their friends they g-g-greet; But I never knew an instance when a woman made a break And began to stutter trying rapid thoughts to overtake. No ! a woman will not stutter ; set that down as safely so ; Were the habit to come to her, she would quickly lay it low. 119 She will never pause nor falter in the utterance of sound While the fashion is for talking and a hearer is around. f£T* f£& 1£r* He, Not I "it makes a difference whose ox is gored/' "He lost his all!" The truth was told, In blackest type, with headline bold. That "all" seems much like worthless pelf — The "he" is other, not myself. "He lost his health !" Yes, many do ; He was consoled, sincerely, too; Not hard to go upon the shelf — That "he" is other, not myself. "He lost his child!" "How sad!" they- said; "How bitterly he mourns his dead!" Why should he mourn the little elf? Ah! "he" is other, not myself. "He lost his all!" No loss so great! "He lost his health!" O dreadful fate! "He lost his child!" Show pity, brother! That "he" is I, and not another. 120 "See the Point" One Tom and Betty quarreled, and Tom was in the wrong ; So Betty was indignant, and scolded loud and long; She kept the racket going, not sparing the accused, And gave to Tom occasion to feel himself abused. See the point? Abuse to human nature is worse than sorest pain; It rankles in the bosom, and rankles o'er again; And Tom in desperation, as the victim of abuse, Declared for the abuser he had n't any use. See the point? So Tom and Betty parted, each sorely in the wrong; The enmity between them forever growing strong. 'T were better, safer, saner, a small abuse to bear Than madly to resent it, and worse abuse to dare. See the point? 121 A Shining Duty It is the duty of all to shine, You in your corner, I in mine. To shine with clear and steady light, Like brightest stars in darkest night; To shine by word and look and deed, To bind the broken hearts that bleed; To raise the faint and aid the poor, And ope to all a sunshine door. Our only mission is to shine, You in your corner, I in mine. Shine like the sun for God and truth; Shine on the hearts of age and youth; In haunt of sin, in sorrow's pall, In kindness shine for one and all. God looks from heaven to see you shine, You in your corner, I in mine. 122 My Birthday O day supreme, supreme to me, When I began the world to see! To see the world, and meet my friends, Develop life, and learn its ends; To learn its ends, and share its bliss, And make it to abound in this; For this is why the birthday came, To make my life with goodness flame. To flame with goodness! Mighty task! It drives me higher help to ask; To ask of God, to man appeal; To summon faith, and wisdom real; To set a watch on heart and lip, On tongue and foot and finger-tip; To watch the record, keep it clear, From day to day, from year to year. The record grows! The swift birthdays A long, white row of milestones raise. Life's train flies on with lightning speed, And soon must reach the end indeed. 123 I wonder what shall be the end, When milestones into tombstones blend ! I'll not despair, but wait and see, And every birthday fill with glet. QfiP t£r* l2r* ■* My First Flame Quite dear to me, in youthful days, The girl I called my flame; To match her modest, kindly ways Was my most constant aim; I liked to sit by her in class And read with her by turns; For such a bright and lively lass No sane boy ever spurns. Her father rich, her mother fine, Her sister college-trained; She lived upon the old town line Her brothers were big-brained; And when with Mary I was thrown, Though shy as wildest deer, 1 9 m willing even now to own I thought my heaven near. 124 Whene'er we walked along the road, We walked on either side; Our talking was an episode Across the great divide ; And yet to be within her sight, And see her safely home, I felt to be as proud a right As could to boyhood come. The years wore on; the lambent flame Survived in mild degree; I cared for Mary just the same, And Mary cared for me; Yet, when I came a wife to take, She stood not at my side; Nor was I there a vow to make When she became a bride. 1£T* Vr* Vf* Rifts in the Clouds Smile away trials, sing away cares, Sunshine will brighten your home unawares; Work when you sorrow, trust when you grieve; Fresh from the fountain comfort receive. 125 Asking My Consent Upon my daughter's hand he placed A diamond pure and white, And when she next my presence graced She flashed the gem in sight, And looking in my startled eyes She smiled a loving smile, Which seemed to ask, in sweet disguise, "How do you like the style?" Within a day or two he came Where I alone did sit; And, posing in an humble frame, He spake, then paused a bit, And added low, "I am in love, And all my future bliss Depends on living with your dove And your consent in this." "And do you think," was my demand, "That vou can ever be «/ As happy with her, joined in hand, As I am with her free?" 126 He moved his lips, and slowly said, "In this world, or above; Asleep, aw r ake, alive, or dead, With her I am in love." You ask me if I gave consent? How could I do the less? On him my darling's heart was bent, As did the ring confess; And so, with two young hearts inclined Against my one heart old, How could I ever courage find To turn the shoulder cold? «£** jp t£& The Happiest Three I asked some jovial business men The happiest words to mortal ken. One said that "orders" took the lead, While some on "customers" agreed. One slow of speech, of sober face, Long trained in the commercial race, Allowed of all the words on deck None equaled these, — "Enclosed find check, 127 M The Twinkling Eye Be not too grave this side the grave, Lest all too soon you die; Seek not to waive a laughing wave, Nor start a useless cry. A busy bee may pleasant be, While laying honey by; And busy man, by trying can- Maintain the twinkling eye. 128 Part IV Sentimental Rhythm Were sentiment removed from life, The passions only leaving, The world would prove a scene of strife, Our very being cleaving. Nature's Tears While Nature mourns the dying year, With lengthened nights and winter drear, She tunes her heart with Christmas cheer. We live, we love, we fail, we die, And every season passing by Reminds us that the end is nigh. But just as Nature mourns the year, Then ushers in the days more clear, So let new love displace our fear. Be glad that when the year is through A brighter one will come in view, With richer joy, I trust, for you. %lr* V^ Business and worship, travel and pomp, Their course pursue in soundless world. The earth is still. Old ocean's roar And thunder's crash and cyclone's wrath And earthquake's rending shocks And river's flow and forest's moans And low of herds and bleat of flocks And howl of beasts and note of birds, — All Nature's voices, loud and rich, Startling and keen, gentle and sweet, Are powerless and vain; All, all is still. 234 The home is still. The stir of feet, The talk of child, the cheer of friends, The words of love, the call of bell, The clink of dish, the swish of broom, The sounds familiar to the normal ear, Are muffled in the making. The hearth, The court, the drawing-room, and chambers all Are still, so still. And life is still. No tread of foot, Nor clap of hand, nor heave of lung, Nor throb of heart, nor pass of breath, Nor tone of voice, nor crush of tooth, Awakes the nerve to carry sound To deadened tympanum. By day or night, Asleep, awake, within, without, In action or repose, dear life In silence flows. All, all Is still, so still. 235 Sfcr" 6 »»iu Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologie A WORLO LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATII 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 A One copy del. to Cat. Div.