«; 
 
 
ear Hear 
 You 
 
 nWIWnaMlMMMillMiaMWWWaMBIMt': 
 
Dedicated with love to my mother, 
 
 Sarah McMahan, 
 the one ''among others- the best.'' 
 
 Copyrighted 1904 
 By Saidee mcMahan-Okey 
 
LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 I Two Copies Received 
 
 NOV 10 1904 
 
 Copyriiini tniry 
 
 CLASS <i^ XXc. No 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 
WHISPERED TO YOU. 
 
 "Then hold me so close that I'll hear every throb 
 
 Of the heart that is beating for me, 
 And you'll read the sweet truth written deep in my soul 
 
 That I'm living for Him and for thee." 
 
DEAD ROSES. 
 
 To La Reine. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Dear Heart, the roses you gave me 
 
 I've kept; I've treasured them well; 
 I've kissed them, loved and caressed them. 
 
 For roses never tell. 
 I have looked on their withered beauty 
 
 With a tear bedimmed eye; 
 I have told them how I've missed you 
 
 Since the night of our dear Good-Bye. 
 
 I gazed on their dear, dead beauty 
 
 Tonight, as the music played low, 
 And that, with their fading fragrance, 
 
 Took me back to the long ago. 
 I seemed to again be near you — 
 
 Your lips caressing my own — 
 My hand clasped in yours, my darling, 
 
 My head on your breast— my home. 
 
 Your brown eyes searching my own, dear ; 
 
 Searching these eyes of gray; 
 Reading that I am yours, dear, 
 
 Now — forever — alway. 
 So I'll keep, Dear Heart, the roses ; 
 
 I'll keep, I'll treasure them well; 
 I'll kiss them, love and caress them— 
 
 For roses never tell. 
 
REGRET. 
 
 To MotKer. 
 
 My heart is sad, my soul seems dead, 
 
 As I sit in the twilight alone ; 
 My tired hands caress the bowl 
 
 And incense fills the room. 
 The petals within are withered and dead : 
 
 They tell me of joys that are done; 
 They tell of a heart that is weary and spent. 
 
 Of a life race nearly run. 
 
 I can see again an old-fashioned rose, 
 
 Whose petals lie there 'mid the rest. 
 'Twas given to me long years ago 
 
 By a woman, 'mong others, the best; 
 'Twas years ago, but my memory 
 
 Paints clearly that picture tonight. 
 I'd give my all — my future years — 
 
 To again drink in that sight. 
 
 The old-fashioned garden, the head bending low, 
 
 To pluck the red rose from its stem ; 
 The tired old hands, the silver-gray locks, 
 
 Her smile like the Savior of men. 
 Oh ! my heart is sad, my soul seems dead ; 
 
 Would that I were a child again, 
 'Mid the old-fashioned roses with mother, so dear. 
 
 And the world would but move, now, as then. 
 
But a fragrance awakes me, my childhood is past ; 
 
 Other roses I hold in my hand. 
 A form is beside me, what music I hear ? 
 
 What means all this melody grand? 
 Ah ! I trustingly place my hand in your own, 
 
 I offer you all— my life ; 
 My heart sings with gladness, my soul breathes sweet peace, 
 
 I answer the dear name of wife. 
 
 That was years ago, and tonight I sit 
 
 In the twilight all alone; 
 My heart is sad, my soul seems dead ; 
 
 My happy days have flown. 
 And with tears I place 'mid those withered leaves 
 
 One blossom— a pure white rose- 
 To lie on the grave of my dead— dead hopes, 
 
 While nobody cares— or knows. 
 
CONSTANCY. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 If you were a star in yonder sky, 
 
 The one that we claim our own, 
 And your starry beam would only gleam 
 
 On a desert, whence others had flown, 
 I'd pillow my head on its dreary sands, 
 
 As the lowliest wanderer might do. 
 And ne'er look away 'till the day had come. 
 
 Then I'd sleep and dream of you. 
 
 If you were a stream that raged and rolled 
 
 'Neath an ever-threatening sky, 
 I'd make my home on your treacherous shore, 
 
 Tho' no one else was nigh; 
 And some dark day, when I'd called in vain, 
 
 Tho' I knew you wanted me, too. 
 I'd bury my face in your cold embrace. 
 
 And go to rest with you. 
 
FORGET. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Won't you take a wee trip to dreamland, 
 
 And close those dark gray eyes? 
 Won't you drift to that dreamy yonder, 
 
 And forget this day of sighs? 
 Forget, that the day of parting 
 
 Dawns tomorrow for you and me; 
 Forget that Fate's waiting vessel 
 
 Must take me away from thee. 
 
 For the moon that beams in your window 
 As you lie on your pillow at night 
 
 Will take from your cheeks the tear drops- 
 Will pity your sad, lonely plight; 
 
 And, perchance, in her silvery voyage 
 O'er town, o'er country, o'er sea. 
 
 She may pause by my side a moment 
 And give those pearls to me. 
 
 The gale that affrights in mid-ocean: 
 
 That lashes the waves to mad foam ; 
 That may cause us to pause and listen — 
 
 That same gale may choose to roam 
 O'er country, mid pine trees and flowers, 
 
 In the guise of the cool, balmy air. 
 And may kiss your cheek in the moonlight. 
 
 And in dreams you will think I am there. 
 
 So take a wee trip to dreamland — 
 
 Just close those dark gray eyes : 
 And drift to that dreamy yonder — 
 
 Forget this day of sighs. 
 Forget that the day of parting 
 
 Dawns tomorrow for you and me — 
 Forget that Fate's waiting vessel 
 
 Must take me awav from thee. 
 
WHY? 
 
 As I stood in the gloaming that evening 
 
 And heard the pines' lonely cry, 
 My thoughts quickly wandered to you, dear. 
 
 And caused me to wonder, why! 
 Why all this love and devotion 
 
 Has been given me day by day. 
 And, when I so need your coming, 
 
 Too soon, you are called away. 
 
 I rest in the strength of your love, dear ; 
 
 The arms, that enfold me, my home. 
 If God will but give me your love, dear, 
 
 I feel that I never would roam. 
 But would live for you and His glory— 
 
 Your great, noble soul, my shrine. 
 And Heaven be all around me 
 
 If I knew you were truly mine. 
 
 But I'll rest in our love this evening 
 
 And drink of the joy that is mine; 
 Your looks — your assurance — your kisses. 
 
 Your kiss in the cup, not wine. 
 I'll rest in my hopes this evening 
 
 As my soul receives this good-bye : 
 Yet I know the pines' weird crying 
 
 Will cause me to wonder why. 
 
Why my lonely cry has no answer: 
 
 My poor, weary self no home; 
 Why, when at last I have found you 
 
 That Fate has called you to roam; 
 Why have the days this misery? 
 
 Why are the nights so long? 
 Why are my lips now silent— 
 
 My sobs choking back my song? 
 
 Can you tell me why, tonight, dear, 
 
 When my heart is breaking for you — 
 You, who are all in all, dear. 
 
 Tender and kind and true? 
 But I'll rest in my hopes, tonight, dear. 
 
 Close my eyes that with tears are dim 
 I know a tomorrow will dawn, dear, 
 
 I'll leave the today with Him. 
 
MEMORIES, 
 
 To Irene. 
 
 Dear Heart, my soul is so weary, 
 
 So tired of struggle and fight; 
 Won't you chase from my mind all memory 
 
 As I come to your arms tonight? 
 Won't you help me forget the weary years 
 
 That I lived — and all in vain? 
 Won't you frighten away those memories 
 
 And take from my heart this pain? 
 
 My girlhood seems one short, sweet day. 
 
 Then the years till I met you 
 Take the shape of a cruel, horrible dream ! 
 
 Oh God! can it be they are true? 
 Can it be that my bright, dream castles 
 
 Have fallen and bruised my life 
 And deep in the ruins you found me 
 
 And offered me all, your life? 
 
 I never lived till I met you — 
 
 You, who are kind and true : 
 You, who are all that I've missed, dea^ 
 
 My soul has blossomed for you. 
 Just as God's message, the violet. 
 
 Waits for the sun and the dew, 
 So my soul waited your coming — 
 
 The coming, and touch of you. 
 
My days are now full of Heaven, 
 
 For I've looked down the future years ; 
 My heart is singing with gladness ; 
 
 I have quite forgotten my fears ; 
 I only needed your coming — 
 
 For you I have waited long. 
 To give all my life an offering. 
 
 To you, my soul's mate, I belong. 
 
 I had dreamed some day I would find you, 
 
 Perchance, o'er the crystal sea; 
 But God, in his infinite mercy. 
 
 Now gives your rich love to me. 
 When my soul was dead in its anguish 
 
 You brought it to life with your kiss, 
 You have buried deep, deep, all my memories- 
 
 I'd suffer forever for this. 
 
A HEART'S YEARNING. 
 
 I pray that the Moon above me, 
 
 That glorious Queen of the night, 
 Will try from her throne in the heavens 
 
 To relieve my sorrowful plight. 
 Won't she pluck from the Night's sable curtain 
 
 A star shining brightly above, 
 Whose glorious beam will reveal all my soul 
 
 And show, in its fullness, my love? 
 
 Won't the Earth, from all that's around her, 
 
 Pluck a blossom, a violet, may be, 
 And give to it this precious message 
 
 Of love that I'm sending to thee? 
 Let it tell you how much that I love you; 
 
 Whisper low that my heart's beating true : 
 Make you know I'm your own forever — 
 
 That mine is the soul born for you. 
 
I WONDER. 
 
 I have lost a friend, can you understand 
 
 What that must mean to me? 
 He came my way one glad, bright day, 
 
 But, now, I no longer see 
 His familiar face, which gave back smiles 
 
 To each bright glance I threw 
 To him in those happy, by-gone days. 
 
 Is he near? I'm asking you. 
 
 I miss today the touch of the hand 
 
 That he gaily offered me, in those happy times 
 
 When he and I together walked the lea. 
 
 I lost my friend when a drifting cloud 
 
 Threw its shadow across my way, 
 But now 'tis gone, the sky is blue. 
 
 The birds again sing gay. 
 
 Will he ever return, the friend I found 
 
 In the happy by-gone days ? 
 Will he come again, the friend I lost 
 
 When the shadow crossed my way? 
 
 NOBODY CARES. 
 
 To Mr Baby. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Nobody cares to ease my sorrow. 
 Nobody cares to dry my tears ; 
 
 Nobody cares that my life is blighted. 
 
 Yet must drag through yon 
 Dreary stretch of years. 
 
 Nobody cares that my heart is breaking, 
 Aching to clasp my babe once more ; 
 
 Praying to meet her lips in welcome 
 
 And know that she loves 
 And trusts me once more. 
 
 March, 1904 
 
TO THE HILLS OF THE 
 COEUR D'ALENES. 
 
 :^ 
 
 Could I but roam your forest glades 
 
 And gather up golden sheaves ; 
 Could I but play on my golden harp 
 
 To the tune of your rustling leaves; 
 Could I but sing that dear, weird song 
 
 That I hear in your- evening sigh : 
 The plaudits I'd win from this world of men 
 
 Would ring to the vaulted sky. 
 
 Could I but paint the Autumn leaf 
 
 That I find in your forest glades ; 
 I know I should have to pray of heaven 
 
 It's glorious lights and shades; 
 Could I be robed in the dazzling tints 
 
 That are left by your lingering sun, 
 I would be to all a goddess of light 
 
 Till all my days are done. 
 
TOO LATE. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 I came again to that dear, dear pine 
 
 That sheltered you and me, 
 And plucked one leaf from its clinging vine 
 
 And send it, Dear Heart, to thee. 
 Oh, I fain would recall that dear, sweet day. 
 
 But I'm far away from you 
 And can only send the ivy leaf 
 
 With a message of love, so true. 
 
 I look above to see if the Sun 
 
 Is shining the same as that day, 
 But the world don't seem one-half so bright 
 
 Since you. Dear Heart, went away. 
 I listen to hear the song of birds 
 
 That sang to us their lay. 
 But I never hear one tuneful note — 
 
 Oh God ! these are dreary days. 
 
 I'm calling for you. Dear Heart, for you; 
 
 I'm praying to God for thee. 
 Don't let drear Autumn creep into my life — 
 
 Why don't you come back to me? 
 I want a few more summer days 
 
 In this life I love so well : 
 I want to roam again with you 
 
 O'er hills and thro' the dell. 
 
 I want to climb the mountain side 
 
 And view God's beauties so near. 
 The breeze will be music — caresses — sweetheart, 
 
 I want to be with you, my dear. 
 
 But the leaves have all fallen. 
 The once balmy air 
 
 Has changed to the chill winter's blast. 
 My poor heart is broken. 
 You've waited too long : 
 
 I find that my summer is past. 
 
 AT THE Rustic Seat 'neath the Sheltering 
 
 PINE IN THE BEAUTIFUL COEUR D'ALENE 
 
 PLAZA. October 22, 1904. 
 
"GOOD-BYE." 
 
 Dedicated to Mrs. Leslie Grter. 
 
 Can my days be almost ended — 
 
 My life sands nearly run? 
 Can the lights that reveal yon picture 
 
 Be the rays of my setting sun? 
 Will that ivy-covered cottage 
 
 Where the birds sing gay and free, 
 
 And the violets by the roadside 
 
 Be but a dream to me? 
 
 Will I never come to meet you 
 
 Down that dear old country lane? 
 Will we never pick the violets — 
 
 Will things not be the same 
 
 As you so often pictured, in the days so long ago? 
 Must it be good-bye forever? 
 
 Yes. I've waited long, I know. 
 
 Must I wait till your days are over? 
 
 Must I wait till your spirit is free? 
 And then — will the God of mercy 
 
 Forgive, and send you to me? 
 
 Too bad I heard strange music and let you call in vain 
 Too bad I forgot the violets 
 
 That grew in that old country lane. 
 
 GOOD-BYE, CORSAIR, TOO BAD WE DIDN'T 
 PICK THOSE VIOLETS."— DU BARRY.