"mm^B ^me V-"^ w^ ■:-^,^^-.:6>;<-;^'-^i^: \. . -■ ■y.6it..fbiv''!^.i.!t:! ,/' ../' <''' -- 4, ;-' -- /^// r "^ . /^^/ ^ . ct / ^ ,r - >.' ^ '' .r*;^^" // / y ^-^^ ^- '"> 4.>i^ Class _R5_3.5aS_ Book.Ikl&L___ Copyright }^°_ilQJ__ COPMRIGHT DEPOSIT. FLORAL . BEAUTY. A COIvI^BCTION OF ORIGINAL POEMS. . BY. B. FRANKLIN MINCH. Somewhere, love, in floral beauty Blooms an earthly Paradise. I90:i. ;, CHRONICE PRINT, BRIDGETON, N. J. y OFl REIVED I rTHE LIBRARY CONGRESS, Two Copies Received MAR, 16 1901 Copyright entry ' CLASS <5CxXo. N*. COPY B. T5 3^2>:' J.,01 COPYRIGHT 1901. BY B. FRANKLIN MINCH. TO MY SCHOOLMATES AND FRIENDS, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. Somewhere, « _ . - . 5 Our Best, _----- 6 I Shall Be Loved Hereafter, - - - 8 The True Poet, . . . . . 9 Fairy Moonlight, . - - _ 10 Rest Cometh, - - - - - . 11 An Arbor-Day Poem, - - - - 12 Where Angels Wait, - - - - 13 Thoughts of Thee, . . - . 14 Good Night, - - - - - 16 Memories, _ - - . - 19 Mirabeau, ...-.-- 20 When the Star of Our Heart is Shining, - 21 The Leper-Girl, - - - - - 22 At Eventide, ----- 25 Disease, - - - - - - 25 Honor the Brave, - - - - 26 Two Portraits, ----- 27 Remembrance, - - - . 28 The Deathless City, - - . . 29 Montana, - - - - - - 31 Beautiful Peace, - - • - - 32 A Song of Waiting, - - - - -3? CONTENTS. ii Twisted, - - - - - - 34 Cornelia's Lament for Caius Grachhus, - - 35 Maidenhood, . . . . . ^7 Within the Garden, - - - - - 38 The Captive, _ _ _ . . ^8 Throw off the Chains, - - - - 39 The Vine and the Dove, _ _ _ ^q The Covering of the Throne, - - 41 Lines Written for a Bible Presentation, - 43 Peace and Rest, - - - - - 44 The Goal, . - . _ . 45 Bury Me Where the Arrow Falls, - - - 4b The Beauty Hath Faded, - - - 51 Love's Language, ----- 52 Christmas, Merry Christmas, - - - ' 53 V/eep Not, ------ 54 The Bicycle Speech, . - - . ^^ The Golden Key, . - - . . 57 On a Thunder Shower, - - _ ^8 The Myrtle, - - - - - 59 The Sons of the Phil o., ... 60 Sea Thoughts, - . - . _ 61 Farew^ell, . - _ _ _ 63 PREFACE. In response to repeated requests from those who have, seen a few of my poems, that they should be put in more convenient form for reading, I have selected the best of my pieces formerly published in the Philosophian Review of South Jersey Institute, and those more re- cently written, and placed them in this little voliimn. Composed as a means of amusement and recreation from study hours and during odd moments on the farm, my readers will not expect to finrl in them the polished perfection of a Tennyson but only the every-day songs and rhyms of a child of Nature who has derived much of his inspiration from the birds, the flowers and the stars. If these verses shall afford my friends and fellow- students a small portion of the pleasure experienced by the author in writing them, he will feel abundantly repaid. B. FRANKLIN MINCH, January, 1901. Oh! the beauty of the flowers when they first unfold to sighty How the soul expands with raptme and the heart beats with delight; Their intoxicating fragrance doth rejoice the sense of smell. More than all the costly odors clever man distills to sell. Oh! the beauty of the flowers as we see them everywhere; From, the pulpit on the Sabbath to the homes of want and care; On the marriage-day appointed how they deck the chosen room, Till the scene of youth and gladness is ablaze with light and bloom. Oh! the beauty of the flowers, how they soothe the suffering head: BreatJie a gentle perfume o'er us as we view the silent^ dead; Flowers we welcome in the summer when the skies are soft and fair. Doubly precious in the winter when the trees and earth are bare. FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. SOMEWHERB. Suggested by a lecture on the "Sunny Side of Life," delivered by Dr. Hedley, in Moore's Music Hall, Feb, 6th, 1890. Somewhere, love, the skies are brighter, And with undiminished light, Ivuna sheds a tender radiance O'er the gathered hosts of night. Somewhere, love, like precious jewels Blaze the starry suns, that seem In that clear transparent region Em'rald, ruby, sapphire's gleam. Somewhere, love, in gayer plumage, Birds 'mid tropic forests sing; Flitting forth from light to shadow, Iviving rainbows on the wing! Somewhere, love, in floral beauty, Blooms an earthly paradise; There all colors blend, all perfumes Through successive seasons rise, Happy they who forth may wander. Where the skies appear more bright; But thrice blessed those, who rather Find in Home their chief delight. FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. OUR BKST. O, when these living forms of ours, Lie cold beneath the grass and flow'rs; When other hands shall hold the plow, And toil where we are toiling now; Shall sow the seed, and reap the grain, From fertile heart and fruitful plain; When yon same sun of purest white, Lends radiance to the orb of night, And evening stars of silv'ry hue. Look through the heav'n y wall of blue, As though the all-discerning eyes, Of Him, who watches from the skies, And guards us till we waking rise; When from the regions of the north, The bright aurora flashes forth, As if the sun by some strange hap, Had fall'n on old A.rctic's l^ip; When rivers from the mountain side. Still flow into the ocean wide, To mingle with its salty tide; Then rise within a darksome cloud, To fall amid the thunders loud, When lightning darts by Ze'us hurled, Bring wreck and ruin to the world; When seasons come and seasons go, Each with its share of joy and woe; Blithe Springtime robed in garb of green, With flow'rs as fair as we have seen, With leaves as glossy to the view, With birds that sing as sweetly too; Summer, that maiden of the South, Whose fruits fill empty hands and mouth, Who, on our Independence Day, FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. Holds 111 her hand the sheaves and hay. Autumn, whose joys seem lost in grief, As robed with many a dying leaf, And stained with blood-drops of the chase, From Winter's gaze he hides his face. And yet, a grateful people hold, Thanksgiving Day within his fold; Winter, that king of northern birth. Who spreads a mantle on the earth, When Christmas fills the land with cheer, And brings the Prince of Bethlehem near. What scenes sball thrill this great world then, When we shall be no longer men ? What shoulders shall lyife's burdens bear ? Shall they a richer harvest share, In deeds of love, lives made taore fair? However well they may succeed, Whatever praise may be their meed, They shall receive at God's behest, No more than we — in this we rest. Who seek the right and do our best. Our best friends, we should ever do; At school, at home, abroad be true. For each short hour of mortal life. Each day of labor, progress, strife, Brings us yet nearer to the grave. From which no friendly hand can save; Brings Time yet nearer to the sea, That hath no bounds — eternity. FI.ORAI, BKAUTY. I SHALL BE LOVED HEREAETER. Dedicated to the memory of Fred G. Sage, upon whose translation of a German motto signifying the above, the poem was written: I shall be loved hereafter. When other flowers bloom; When the year that now is fleeing. To a younger year gives room. I shall be loved hereafter, When other warblers sing, And shrilling their sweet matins, Welcome the gentle Spring. I shall be loved hereafter, When other bright leaves fade; And Autumn's crown of glory. Lies sere on hill and glade. I shall be loved hereafter, For Venus never dies; The spirit she hath given Was w^on beyond the skies. I shall be loved hereafter, Though Earth not all is love, And many a heart lies broken, Unblest by the gentle Dove. I shall be loved hereafter, Not this mere day and hour: Nor Earth can find, nor Heaven, *Mongst men so great a pow'r. FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. I shall be loved hereafter, O words of kindly hope! No mortal mind can reckon Your length and breadth and scope. I shall be loved hereafter, But who receives must give. Else, vain are hopes of friendship, Though rich or poor we live. I shall be loved hereafter, Short be my life, or long. I shall be loved hereafter In the land of ceaseless song. THE TRUE POET. Not every hand that pens a stave Earns, ere it passes to the grave, The name of Great; Not every soul that doth aspire To utter words of living fire, Gaius high estate. Who toils for wealth or fame alone, Discovers but a worthless stone When it is won; But he who seeks mankind to bless. Finds, better than the world's success, His Lord's* 'Well done.'' FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. FAIRY MOONLIGHT, •*Fairy moonlight! Hail to the queen of the silent night/' Fairy moonlight! Fairy moonlight! Dancing o'er the land and sea, Heaven's joy is in thy beaming; Fairy moonlight, smile on me. Fairy moonlight; Silent Fairy! Night's dark brow is bathed by thee, Thou dost chase away his shadows; Fairy come and smile on me. Fairy moonlight; Witching Fairy! Gladly I thy brightness see. Thou dost shed a gentle radiance; Smile thy sweetest smile on me. Fairy moonlight, Oueen of Even! Stars adorn thy canopy, Haloes are thy crowns of glor3\ Gracious Fairy, smile on me. Fairy moonlight, Queen of beauty! Would that all might learn of thee, Copying they modest sweetness, Lovely Fairy, smile on me. Fairy moonlight, Shining Fairy? Oft I think of home and thee. As thy rays are omnipresent, Shine upon that home and me. I^LORAI, BEAUTY. II Fairy moonlight, Gentle Fairy! Breathe thy peace into my heart, Bring me thoughts of friends who love me, Blessed Fairy, ere we part. Fairy moonlight! Fairy moonlight! Clothe me in thy robe of white. Watch above me while I'm sleeping, Guardian Fairy, now, good night! REST COMETH. A SUMMER PICTURE, Tired out! When day is done Rest Cometh. Since no longer beams the sun, Hush'd are sounds of work and fun, Bird and bee in silence dumb, Th* bee that hummeth. Flowers, too, are sleeping now, Petals folded; Zephyrs fan the heated brow; Rivers swift, more gently flow, Stars reflecting as they go, Banks-enmoulded, Tired out! When life is o'er Rest cometh. Softly through the open door, Angels from the Heavenlj^ Shore, Bear the soul that tires no more — Rest cometh. 12 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. AN ARBOR-DAY POEM. Go forth to the planting to-day! Come out from the school and the home! Ail Nature invites you to come; So plant us a tree while you may, Whose branches shall wave in the bright sunny air Uncrowded and free, o'er the youthful and fair, Who plays 'neath the vernal skies. Go forth to the planting to-day, Blithe maidens and fun-loving boys! For this the season of joys. Let parents and children be gay, And the fathers shall plant while their children sing, And our Arbor Day with the shouting ring Of irrepressible boys. Go forth to the planting to-day! O 3^outh of the East and West! And your labor and toil shall be blest. Not merely for shade by the way; But in building of homes, in the fuel ye burn, In the tools that are used at every turn, Shall the planting of trees be blest. Go forth to the planting to-day! Let chestnut and apple tree share With the maple, your arboral care. Give the songsters of sweet-scented May A choir for their feet and a place for their nest; Aud a song shall be poured from each feathered breast. To thank you for Arbor Day. FLORAL BEAUTY. I 3 Go forth to the planting to-day! The millions of acres laid bare Of forests that long flourished there, Are calling to us and they say: ^'Repair, O repair the waste of your land, Ivest showers be few, and your soil as the sand Refuse to yield fruitage or grain. Go forth to the planting today! Trees sheltered your rills from the sun, But now that the forests are gone, The streamlets are drying away. Go fill up the breach that the woodman hath made, More blest than the axe is the work of the spade 'Tis better to plant than destroy." Go forth to the planting to-day! May beauty appeal to our pride! Nor the promptings of need be denied, Till the groves we have planted shall sway From the I^akes to the Gulf, and from shore to shore, And Columbia's glory shall be as of yore In her beautiful forests of green. WHERK ANGEIvS WAIT. When our feet have passed the portal Where 'tis said the angels wait. Where true character lends beauty Whose bright charms cati ne'er abate, We shall find that earth's affection Was a budding Aron's rod. Blooming forth in full perfection In the Zion of our God. 14 FI^ORAL BKAUTY. * THOUGHTS OF THBB. Oh, if amid thy lonelier hours A thought of one is borne to thee. As clowds are borne by unseen powers Along the blue infinity. If some blithe spirit of the air, Or whispering Cupid, from the mind At eve disp^ 1 the shades of care, And bid thy thoughts rove unconfined, If early memories retain A fragrance still like flowers long prest, And old time friends to thee remain More dear hy far than all the rest. Thou wilt not blame nor yet reprove These lines that speak my thoughts of thee; *We love to think of those we love;' And love s own tongue \^ poetry. When Phoeb is in his glory hath Thro' morning's flaming portals passed, And high o'erhead pursues his path Drawn by his fiery steeds full fast; He swiftly sends a thought of thee Thro' shadowy mind's mysterious halls, And all the dull monotony Of daily toil, forsakes her walls. And when, his shining race complete, He pauses at the western gate And checks his tireless coursers' feet, (Ah ! how impatiently they wait); He smiling bids the world adieu, Then casts a ling'ring glance on me, As if, while fading from my view, To hint that I should think of thee. 1 FLORAL BEAUTY. I5 Oft when the twilight shadows fall Across the valley and the hill, And all is silent save the call Of some far-distant whip-poor-will, There is a thought which floats along Upon the light wings of the breeze, Sweet as the music of a song, Or incense of the forest trees. That of these messengers of night Which follow close on day's decline, Some zephyr, that in gentler flight Bathed thy soft cheek, now touches mine. When Cynthia, Fairy Queen of Night, Rides forth in all her royal power. And from her garments beams of light Decend to earth in silvery shower. I love to watch her radiant face, Serenely pure and calmly sweet. And picture there the modest grace Ot one, whose smile 'tis joy to meet. And w^hen I join the drowsy band Who cease to think, that they may dream, And tread you strange fantastic land Where nothing is but all things seem. There in my visions I behold Thy ^ace, sweet friend, so near, so real, That I, thy hand could almost hold, And thou, my touch couldst well-nigh feel. ■H- -X- -X- ^ -H- When sun and moon and winds unite To bring thy memory to me, And dreams supply the absent sight, How can I help but think of thee? l6 FLORAI, BEAUTY. GOOD NIGHT. IN MEMORIAM. II. J. MULFORD, JR. I see in vision by his mother's knee, A little child scarce more than two years old, Come from his lips in infant words of prayer: *'God bless the Institute, and all who there, Or far away, are with its work connected." Then when the mother's kiss to him is given, A precious debt by childhood quickly repaired, And in his cot the nestling head is laid. Before she leaves him to his happy dreams. He lisps "good night," and softly falls asleep. The vision changes. 'Tisa student's face On which I gaze — a 3^outh of eighteen years, His eyes bent down upon a text-book, where The lamp shines brightly on his glossy hair, While in a glass his image is reflected. But all is still except the clock that ticking. Records the hours and minutes as they fly, (Who loves to study, studies quietly) . When suddenly, he hears the bed-time hour. And quickly rising, stops to say "Good night." I dream again. But one short year hath fled Since last I look'd upon that peaceful home. He is not there, but in the "Quaker town," Upon a bed by dire disease born down, Sadly he lies, while kindly friends watch o'er him I see him toss amid the fever's power. The tortured brain gives speech unto the tongue But knows not what it speaks. The words are wrung As from the lips when in an awful dream. FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 17 Yet there are times, as when the mid-day sun Pierces the darkness of the clouded day, When Reason reigns, but transient is her sway. The clouds return and veil the blessed light. As they come he wliispeislow ''Good night. '^ *' *Tis well with him," the Shunamite replied, When Israel's prophet asked her of her son. And Jesus spake with meaning, O how deep, Of Martha's brother, ''He is but asleep." To sleep is w^ell within the Master's bosom, So calls our shepherd to the upper fold His sheep and lambs, the youthful and the old. Good night, good night, good morning shall be said. When Resurrection's light breaks o'er thy head. Behold of dust all mortal flesh is form'd, So to the dust our mortal frames return, But wings the spirit at departing breath. Its upw^ard flight from these abodes of death. Most gladly freed from sin, disease and sorrow. But though from sight thy genial face is hidden, Ivong shall it beam from Mem'ry's pictured halls As doth th}^ sire's from Alma Mater's walls. And though we mourn thee, miss thy cheerful greetings, Our loss has been to thee eternal gain. Oft have I seen the glorious setting sun Lie like a seal upon the finished day, Whose acts the best of us cannot repeal. So hath God placed upon thy life his seal — Thy day, as short as one of Winter's making. Yet, not by hours,but deeds our lives are measured. 1 8 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. And when we stand beside the Judge's throne, Upon the left His foes, the right His own, Not those who idly lived for many a year, But those who toiled with Him, shall gain the crown. He that plucks flowers where blossoms sweetly bloom, Doth take the fairest, sweetest and most pure. None are too bright to dress the May-Queen *s bow'r; And none too fragrant in that happy hour To form her crown — a crown so quickly fading, Marvel not then that He the Source of beauty, Who gave to Purity and Perfume birth, Should stoop to gather from His garden Earth, The choicest flowers that therein are found, To deck His palace and adorn his crown. *Twas the same year that gave to us our birth, The same sun that bathed each youthful cheek, The same stars that bade us each good night, And one same moon that gave us ev'ning light; That moon which now her nightly vigils keeping Looks on thy grave with soft and pitying glances. While wintry winds their mournful requiems sing, And birds aerial pause upon the wing To note another mound among the dead — Another home within the gen'rous earth. Life is as fitful as a fever'd dream; Good morning scarcely said ere it is night, Good night ere morning opes our closed eyes. And that which fills at first with glad surprise, Soon we discover is unsatisfying. But life is short, here lies our grief and comfort . FI^ORAIv BEAUTY. I9 Grief that our friends so soon leave our embraces, Comfort that soon we may behold their faces. May we be found In Life's most solumn hour Watching, not dreaming in forbidden sleep. Oh, could we look where angel eyes have seen, And hear the music of celestial tongues, i Taste heav'nly fruit, drink of those crystal streams Where cloudless light upon their surface gleams, And most of all behold the loving Saviour — Well might we long to share thy happy portion. Blest land where friends may meet and never part, May never feel Affliction's painful dart, Where none grow* weary in the long,long day — In that fair land they never say *'Good Night. '^ MEMORIES. A SONNET. 'Tis ours in memory to tread the past, To climb again the verdant slopes of youth, When riper years have taught us this great truth: That life is preparation to the tast. O these are golden days that speed bO fast! The voice of Springtime greets us in the breeze That scatters blossoms from the laden trees — From lovely flow'rs which deck no May-day mast. And this is Springtime, if we could but know Our choicest blessings ere they be no more. Would that the Fount of Youth indeed might flow! It may not be, but keep this thought in store: Though youth is fleeting, yet its memories stand, While those of Age are writ upon the sand. FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. MIRABBAU. Sprinkle me with perfumes, crown me with flowers, surround me with music, that I may thus enter upon eternal sleep.— Count Mirabeau 1791. Sweetest perfumes o'er me sprinkle, While the tapers round me twinkle; Smooth out every careworn w^rinkle, From the brow of Mirabeau. Crown me with the rarest flowers, Gathered from the choicest bowers; 'Tis the meed of mighty powers Thus to honor Mirabeau. Oh! forget the hasty passion, All m}^ sins 'gainst social fashion; In this hour let soft compassion Wreathe the dying Mirabeau. For the good that I intended, Equal rights with freedom blended; For French despotism ended, Crown the brow of Mirabeau. Soon will cease this tongue of fire, Tune the voice and strike the lyre. Raise the music ever higher Round the dying Mirabeau. Thus prepared, I will be taking That last sleep which hath no w^aking, Friends and home and love forsaking, 'Tis the last of Mirabeau. Let men weep for coming evil. For the nation's vast upheaval, Ivike the Earth's in times primeval. Let them weep for Mirabeau. FI^ORAIv BKAUTY. 21 WHKN THE STAR OF OUR HEART IS SHINING, The stars are shining brightly, Roselle! And the autumn breeze blows lighlly Mid the silence that is nightly, Roselle! Roselle! But what to us are the silvery stars Which follow the day's declining, If we only can sa}'^ "By night and by day The Star of our heart is shining.'* The stars are all a-smiling, Roselle! From afar the hours beguiling, As the eventide I'm whiling; Roselle! Roselle! But less to me are the starry smiles On the features of Night reclining, Than the ripples that flow o'er thy face aglow, When the star of my heart is shining. At eve, when upward gazing, Roselle! On the beauty so amazing. Of the stars like beacons blazing, Roselle! Roselle! I'll think of one 'neath the pure blue sky, In * 'Cupid's own temple" reclining; As they whisper to me m ethereal glee, **The Star of thy heart is shining." 22 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. THE LEPER-GIRL. FROM A PROSE TALE BY JOACHIM MILLER. Softly o*er the broad Pacific, Blew the ocean breezes mild, Gently playing with the tresses — With the loosely-flowing tresses — Of a sad but sweet faced child. All the splendor of the ocean, Burnished by the setting sun, All the glory of the cloudland — Of the ever-changing cloudland — Spread before her sight anon. But these parts of one grand painting Drawn by Nature's matchless hand, Seemed as idle to the laden — To that heart with sorrow laden — As a fairy's fabled wand. From the precious home of childhood. From a father's tender care, The affection of a brother. Those she loved— she had no mother — Did the waves the maiden bear. From the 'own of Honolulu Exiled to the outcast's isle. For the maiden was a leper, With the destiny of It per. Could the most courageous smile ? Sad indeed her short sea voyage To that dreaded island home, Leaving friends and hope forever — Rosy hopes of youth forever — Jusi across the ocean foam. I^I^ORAI, BEAUTY. 23 There they placed her with the wretched Dwellers of that leper-land, Where the great apostle-martyr — Damiens, most noble martyr — Gently taught the little band. Where through years of weary waiting Slow consumes the flesh away, Till at last is heard the summons — Oh, how joyful such a summons To the land beyond decay! Three months passed, when o'er the waters By the same bark she had come. There arrived her playmate brother, Came the watch-dogs and her brother, Then it seemed almost like home. One day as they sat together On the wave-resisting strand. Gazing at the moving billows — Like a cloud-wreath moved the billows Till they broke upon the sand. Suddenly up spoke the brother: *'Let us seek our own loved home, Let us leave these loathsome people — To their sorrows leave these people — Only say that you will come. I will make a raft, dear sister. And we'll float across the wave, To our home at Honolulu, 'Tis not far to Honolulu, See! my hands are strong and brave." 24 FI^ORAL BKAUTY. Darkness settled o'er the lepers At the isle of Molokai; But the children twain were missing, All that night the twain were missing, No one saw them far or nigh. Those who sought them fearing danger (For such absence oft alarms) Found them in the early morning — In the quiet peaceful morning — Clasped within each other's arms. (As a mother lays her infant In its little cradle-nes^, So the cruel-hearted ocean Half repenting, in emotion, Placed them on the shore to rest. ) And as one friend saw them lying With the sand amid their hair, Lo! he touched the boyish fingers, Gazed upon those cold white fingers, And no leprosy was there. Could it be that he had feigned it ? Yes, the raft revealed his plan; How he left his home to find her, How he risked his life to save her, And had died as heroes can. So they buried them together. Surely none could part them now; With the lilies and the roses — Pure white lilies, buds of roses — O'er each heart and round each brow. I FLORAI, BEAUTY. ^ 25 Still are seen the silent crosses On that wave-surrounded isle, Pointing upward to the heaven Where to mortals it is given Ne'er to weep, but ever smile. o AT KVENTIDB. *Tis sweet to vv^ait at eventide the coming of a friend, To think of pleasant things to say before the Even end; To listen for the sound of wheels,the footsteps at the gate, To welcome if he early come, or if he cometh late. 'Tis sweet to ride at eventide along some country road, The spangled blue our can >py, our carpeting the sod. With flowers strewed beside the way by Nature's kindly hand, And cheerful music furnished by the chirping cricket band. DISEASE. Oft have I seen the fruit that might have hung Till richly ripe up m the laden bough. Fall premature, thro' some insidious worm That worked, unmoved by summer heat or storm, Unseen itself though one could mark its labor. So upon man, best fruit of God's creation, Doth feed the worm of fierce and fell Disease, Quiet sometimes as one who sits at ease. At others struggling with his human prey, Too oft the victor in the bloodless fight. 26 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. HONOR THE BRAVE. A Memorial Day Poem. Dedicated tx) the Heroes of 1861. Honor the brave who in glory have fallen, Strew with bright flowers the tombs where they lie; These were the heroes who bled for their country, To save it they feared not to battle and die. Leaving their homes at the call of the Nation, Marching for many a mile on the way, Sleeping at night on the earth cold and frozen, To wake in the morning and rush to the fray. Honor the brave who in glory have fallen — Some on the hillside and some on the plain, Some met their death in the dark gloomy prison, Some in the hospital burdened with pain; For not alone in the fierce hail of battle, 'Mid the smoke of destruction aimed deadlj' and sure, With drums loudly beating and flags proudly streaming, Perished these comrades whose labors endure. Honor the brave \Vho in glory have fallen — What though their ashes may lie far away, Ne'er be it said that the deeds of the fathers Are forgot by the sons on Memorial Day. O'er them unfurl the old banner they carried, Over them sing the dear hymns that they loved; Theirs was the danger and toil of the contest, Ours is the Union they sealed with their blood. Honor the brave who among us are living, Smaller each year are the numbers they bring; Fewer the hands left to scatter the garlands. Fewer the tongues that so tremblingly sing; Soon will their ears all be deaf to our praises Soon will they pass where all conflict is o'er From the muster of earth to the roll call of Heaven Where beautiful Peace sits enthroned evermore. IfI.ORAI. BEAUTY. 2^ TWO PORTRAITS. What are portraits, but the memories Of our dearest friends and joys ? Intruments of recollection, They are something more than toys. Placed within a certain album Rest two portraits side by side; One of them a dark-haired maiden, One a youth in boyish pride. Not this hand placed them together, Not this hand shall part them now; Tho' the tide hath reached its turning, And they only mark the flow. What recks eithei of the ebbing ? Little brought that inward tide; Yet there seems a silent pathos In those portraits side by side. Speak to me no more of friendship, Such as youthful hearts may hold. *Tis the dream and a delusion! *Tis a dross and not the gold! While true friendship stands yet brighter After that it has been tried — But V\\ leave them there together. Youth and maiden side by side. Strange that we should pass till withered What was once a fragrant flower. Strange that we should be unwilling In the moment of our power; Strange we oft forsake when nearest, That for which we've hoped and sighed, Quitting friendship when we've found it — But I'll leave them side by side. 28 FLORAI, BEAUTY. Sometimes when the lamps are sparkling, Thro' the quiet sombre town; And the moon stoops in her journey To once more "shine deeply down" — Then, pe haps, two hearts may ponder On a iormer eventide: So I'll leave them there together, Leave ihem seated side by side. Sometimes when Life's sea is troubled, And the stars are lost in night. One face still may pierce the darkness, Shining with its old-time light. Tho' the bark indeed is riven, Snapped the oars the rowers plied. Each hath sought a sep'rate haven — I will leave them side by side. Yes, I'll leave them there together, With her face still turned toward mine, As it used to be in school -days, Ere there came the paning-time. They shall bring to my remembrance. Whatsoever doth betide, Joys and pleasures past returning. Those two portraits side by side. REMEMBRANCE. To be remembered like yon bird that sings, Then sink in some dark recess of the soul — This is the common lot that living brings; But as the years their ceaseless surges roll, O bring sometimes from out its hidden place A boyish image and a youthful face! I FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 29 THE DEATHLESS CITY. A LEGEND. There was a city in the ancient time, Worthy of sage's thought or poet's rhyme. It stood upon a pleasing tableland, And noble prospects ope'd on either hand. On distant mountains fell the winter snows, Whose summits far above the clouds arose; Below it lay a heated tropic plain, With broad-leaved palms and verdant sugar- cane. But in thai town, Summer nor Winter came, One season only — and Springtime its name. Earthquake and famine never troubled there; No germs of fever floated in the air. Strong were its walls, watch-towers on ev'ry s'de, The brazen gates by day were open wide; Fair were its homes with marble-covered wallsi And ne'er disgraced by shameless drunken brawls. There, the Death Angel never came, they vSaid, To take away from some bright home its head, Or, leave instead of some dear child his own, The Angel sadness to the mourner known. No wonder people pressed from far and near To that strange town whose name allayed their fear, For many dreaded th' Invisible One, Who stopped the breath beneath the stars or sun. 30 FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. But one who came with hope from Death to flee, Had caught the p'agne beyond th' Arabian sea. They deemed him weary with his journey long, Who kept the gate and passed him with the throng. The sunset came, and darkness from the east Arose to cover weary man and beast. It mattered little to the sick man there. Whose pallid form grew colder than the air. 'Tis midnight now and from the jewxUed sky An angel cometh. Swift but silently He flies within the town, and pausing not. Straightway he seeks the sick man's humble cot. Touching his lips he quickly goes his w^ay. The lips are sealed. He waits the Judgment Day, When each must tell of actions good or ill, And hear the verdict ol God's righteous will. The Deathless City lost its name for aye; Nor can a city to the present day, Claim such a title, truly, for its own, As once belonged to this old fabled town. But ye who stand with weary outstretched arms, Waiting release from earthly cares and harms- I seem to hear you speak with wondrous joy Of some blest land whose peace knows no alloy. Where life eternal broadens and expands — A heavenly city never built by hands. And as I turn the leaves of inspired lore, I see it there described — and search no more. Yes, I believe the Deathless City found: A failure here — success it there hath crowned, Where sin is. Death his shades wnll ever throw; In Heaven only may we freedom know. IM,0RAI, BEAUTY. 3 1 MONTANA. TO A I^RIEND. ^^fiand where the grizzly prows and falls, Pierced by the hunter's leaden balls; 't .and where the panther crouches low To spring upon his human foe — Is far-away Montana. Where the Missouri's headstrearas rise, And snowy mountains guard the skies; Where Indian braves did Custer foil, And tinged with blood the rocky soil. Of laraway Montana. !f v'and where through canyons deep and lone, Foams on the restless Yellowstone, Angry that rocks his way oppose; Hager to meet his friend, he flows Through faraway Montana. Where Nature in her vaults, we're told, Hath stored her wealth of precious gold; Where cattle feed on grassy hills, And quench their thirst from crystal rills — In faraway Montana. O when the dew^s of ev'ning fall. And Night's dark wings o'ershadow all — When Day's bright steed tired lags behind. And Night's fresh courser braves the wind, Of faraway Montana. 'Tis then thy thoughts shall quickly fly O'er valley deep and valley high, Across the distant western plain. More swift than swiftest lightning train To faraway Montana. 32 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. To that fair spot amid the West, Of all thy homes the dearest, best; For thou canst find where'er thou roam No place so dear as childhood's home, In Jersey or Montana. BKAUTIFUIy PEACE. TO ONE IN Sickness. Away from the busy world's jar and noise. With its weary labor, exciting joys, Lying so still in the quiet room — Darkened as if by the twilight's gloom — I almost see thee in fancy's ken Becoming a little child again. Beautiful Peace with her bright angel wings Float o'er thy pillow and give thee sweet rest! 'Tis hard to be sick, we are prone to say, While others go on with their work and play; But sickness and health have both their place In' the all-wise Father's plan and grace; And some day we too shall the reason know, And thank Him, because it was better so. Beautiful Peace with her broad angel wings Encircle thy pillow and hush thee to rest! And oh! how it brings cherished friends more near, So willing to help and ready to cheer: What though their presence may be denied, Each one in spirit is at thy side; And when thou art well and vStrong, ah! then, They'll welcome thee back to th' world again. Beautiful Peace with her soft angel wings Brood o'er thy pillow and lull thee to rest! FLORAL BEAUTY. 33 A SONG OF WAITING. I was dozing on a morning all alone within my room, Long ago the sun had banished all the even's witching gloom, And while in that restless slumber, which at times wnll come by da}^, When w^e fall asleep a-thinking and our thoughts are far away; Lo! I heard the rarest singing in a room the floor below, And the burden of the music is the strangest thing I know. And I thought the voice melodious sang all purposely for me." As I lay it floated upward, *'I am waiting — wait for thee." Half arising, soft I listened, but alas the song was o'er, I had left the fairy Dream-land and could never hear it more. But as from the rocky caverns, waves resound unto the sea. So there came to me the echo, *'I am waiting — wait for thee." Quickly down I wrote the wording, ere it passed be- yond my ken, For our dreams are swiftly fading and they seldom *com.e again.' Thus I heard the song of waiting with its untold mystery ; W^ho in all the world was waiting, who is waiting now for me? ■^ 34 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. TWISTED. Sometimes, when the wintry wind blows chill, And the snow lies deep o'er vale and hill Where the skies and earth have trysted; We bring in the cornstalks from the field, Where, standing in soil by the frost congealed? Their tops are all torn and twisted. We may pull and tug "to our hearts' content, W"e may give the thoughts that arise full vent, Till with rage our eyes are misted; But instead of that 'tis the wiser plan To unloosen those stalks as best we can, And take them the way they're twisted. All over this planet so large and round, Wliere people of every sort are found, C'^ Both generous and close-fisted; There are natures crooked and warped by pride, While others by habits are strongly tied, And tangled, snarled and twisted. If we only could see the 'spark divine,' That in ev'ry human was meant to shine, Our pity would be enlisted; We would seek the brothers that go astray, And, leading them back to the better way, We'd take them as they are, twisted. Could we put ourselves in our brother's place, Our tongues would speak with a kindlier grace. Of the weak and unassisted; And we each would have a larger share Of that charity so sweet and rare. That takes men the way they're twisted. FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 35 CORNKIvIA'S LAMENT FOR CAIUS GRACCHUS. The following poem is founded upon an incident in Roman history, which happened about 121 B. C, during the contest between the aristocracy and common people. Those acquainted with the history of Rome will remember that Cornelia had two sons, Tiber- ius and Cains, and that Tiberius was killed some years prior to his younger brother. There had been a cruel battle On the Roman Aventine, — Cains Gracchus and his comrades 'Gainst the proud patrician line. And his young wife with Cornelia Waited anxiously and long, Fearing for the life of Caius, For the nobles' hate was strong. Oft they sought the quiet doorway, Oft the^^ look'd across the vale, Till at length the fair Lucretia Spoke, with features deadly pale: ''Mother, in the hazy distance, I can just discern a crow^l: See! they bear a headless body; With its weight the men are bow'd." "It is Caius! O, my darling Have they dared to slay thee too? Curses on the rich patricians, Who would pierce my poor heart through!" Now the slaves have reached the dwelling. And have laid their master down; While the mother, in her anguish, Speaks the grief uo words can drown: 36 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. ''Could they not have spared the forehead That in youth so oft I pressed; And the hair so dark and glossy, That a mother's hand caressed? "Fare thee well, my dearest Caius, I cannot reproach thee now; For my heart is almost broken, From mine eyes the tears will flow. I shall think of thee, O Caius; When the Tiber murmurs low; As I walk beside its bosom Brooding o'er my double woe. "I shall think of thee when Phoebus Greets the morning dressed in gray; I shall think of thee when sunset Bids adieu the parting Day. "I shall think of thee when Springtime Spreads the green o'er northern hills, I shall think of thee when Autumn Plucks the fruit that summer fills. *'I shall think of all thy labors For the poor who loved thee well. How for them thy life was given, Mem'ry's voice shall ever tell. "All too soon Life's bow is broken; All too swift the arrow flies;' All too early from Life's drama Pass the loving and the wise. "Nevermore will ring thy laughter Through these lonely hails of mine. Nevermore the crested helmet, O'er thy manly brow will shine. FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. 37 * •Nevermore shall I behold thee 111 the shadoTi' or the light; Till among the fields Elysian I shall join thy spirit bright. *'Not in vain thy blood has sprinkled The unhalh»w'd soil of Rome; For the poor shall find a helper, When her greatest son shall come. *'They shall rear us noble statues, When Fame's tidal inward runs; They shall give to me the title; 'Mother of the Gracchi sons'.'' MAIDENHOOD. Bright-eyed as Night dark ruler of the skies; Fresh as the rose bedecked with pearly dew, Blithe as a bird, with cares as light and few, And fair as lilies to admiring eyes; With smiles, sweet relic of that Paradise Which Eve and Adam fled so long ago, See! o'er the cheeks how joyously they flow. As Cynthia modest, who, man's lamps outvies, Yet veils with clouds her charms from his rude gaze, And soars majestic through the realms of air; Fitted like her to shine with brightest rays When ev'ning shades succeed to Phoebus glare, A Scepter'd queen whose pow'r is understood; This — is a maiden in her maidenhood. 38 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. WITHIN THE GARDEN. Within the garden of thy heart I crave the choicest vine, From out the chalice of thy heart Pour me the rarest wine. The purple grapes that clustering hang Like curls upon the brow, Shall still the hunger of my soul That longeth tor thee now. The flowing wine that sparkles bright Ivike sunlit foam at sea, The rich wine of thy love, shall quench My thirst which pants for thee. O to be drunken with delight, And satisified with joy! To taste the rapture of th}^ lips! A bliss without alloy. Earth hath no pleasures that compare With those of thy pure love, They fill the soul, and raise the mind All common things above. THE CAPTIVE. Within each breast strong elements there are That tend success or failure to produce; Each passion freed, a might}^ fiend let loose, Doth bind his liberator to his car; There, like the captive of some Roman war. To grace his triumph through the streets of Time. FLORAL BEAUTY . 39 THROW OFF THE CHAINS. (SKE ACTS 12 : I-II.) Throw off the chains that bind thee! Thy fetters cast aside! The iron links of pa-sion, The silken cords of pride. Whate'er debars or hinders From that which thou may'st be — Throw off these chains that bind thee! Arise, and be thou free! lyong since, in Herod's prison A great apostle lay, Guarded and bound with fetters, Death waiting him next day: Came, as he slept, an angel To bring him liberty. And spake as he awoke him; Arise, and be thou free! , The earth has still its tyrants, Whose chains our souls inthrall: Avarice, Superstition, Intemp'rance worst of all. O, that some God-sent angel Within our midst might be! To break their cruel shackles, And say, Arise; be free! Although no shining angel Comes to our need this hour, By faith we'll grasp the promise Of God's almighty power: And while the riven fetters Fall round us brokenly, We shall rejoice together In glorious liberty. 40 IJ^I^ORAI, BEAUTY. Throw off the chains that bind thee ! Thy fetters cast aside! Flee every evil passion, Avoid all sinful pride. If Appetite or Habit Holds fast in slavery, Throw off the chains that bind thee! Arise, and be thon free! 1 THE VINE AND THl^ DOVE. Dost love me, my dearest, Twin spirit of mine, As th* beautiful arbor Is loved by the vine ? So trustfully clinging Till Winter is past. Though all of its clusters And leaves have been cast. I miss thee, my darling, As th' dove doth his mate; When parted by absence How mournful his state! So tenderly. calling Thro* depths of the wood, True type of devotion. Both gentle and good. But the vine cannot speak, It only can cling. And the dove cannot write, He only can sing; How much better are we. WhoVe tongues and the pen! Let us love and rejoice Again and again. FI^ORAI, RKAUTY. 4 1 THE COVERING OF THE THRONE. WRITTEN FOR JUNIOR DAY. [The reign of Henry Sixth is memorable in English history as the period which gave birth to the wars of the Roses. The battle of Wakefield was fought about 1460, between Queen Margaret and her Red Rose adherents on the one side, and Richard, Duke of York, who had previously claimed the throne, with five thousand White Rose followers on the other. Had the Duke gained this battle the k ngdom might have been his. As it was, his life paid the penalty of defeat.] The sunlight streamed into the hall of England's gather- ed peers, Where many a noble visage marked conflicting hopes and fears, In front appeared the empty throne, and waiting by its side Was seen the gallant Duke of York, of White Rose hearts the pride. *And wilt thou visit him who reigns in yonder palace nigh,' Twas Canterbury's Bishop spoke, to whom York made reply: 'I know of none in all the land my power who should not own,' Then, touched the golden covering that lay upon the throne. Two years have scarcely sped away, on Wakefield's spac- ious green. He stands again, in battle-line arrayed against the Queen, Fierce is the conflict, brief the strife, and vict'ry seeks his foe; A son lies on the trampled sod and he is prisoner now. 42 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. To him they give an ant-hill throne, a grassy crown they weave, And then compel the hapless one their homage to receive; How sad the thought v/iiich filled his breast, as rose his dying groan! That his brave hands had only ton hed the cov'ring of the throne. Few tales are idle if we heed the wisdom they contain, And from another's failure iearn how w^e success may gain; Each has a kingdom yet