Mr "*" ; -SPk; M ^P*^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap. Copyright No. Shel£_j5_L UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THE SPINNING-WHEEL AT REST POEMS BY Edward Augustus Jhnks ILLUSTRATED Holland, tr. of I'lutarcl. B OSTON LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS I O MILK STREE T l8 97 ' Copyright 1897 By Edward A. Jenks engraving and printing by republican press association Concord, n. h. 4Yf teai-]\eav\ snadow-forrns of lorig ago! Sweet fner]ds yjt\o loved ir\e — now beyond tqe blue You cannot see or near rqe, well I know: Yet still I Y\av[d tnese evening flowers to you. Rr\d you wqose feet still linger at rqy side, '.'.'■ e love refreshes rqe liKe rqorning dew An 1 stays tqe sr|a i iWs of life's eventide, 1 dedicate tnese curfew cnirqes to you. Never did Poesy appear So full of heaven to me, as when I saw how it would pierce through pride and fear To the lives of coarsest men. Lowell — An Incident in a Railroad Car. PREFACE TN preparing this volume for the press, the author felt that he ■*- might almost as well go into an October woods, sweep up the crisp leaves that carpet its solemn crypts, and try to replace them in living beauty upon the bare arms of the beeches and maples, as to undertake to bring these wanderers home again. But certain occult influences, singularly in accord with some subterranean cur- rent of his own thought, have encouraged him to complete the work. After all, he is rather glad to welcome his children to his fireside once more. At the end are a few notes, referred to by numbers in the body of the book. E. A. J. Concord, New Hampshire. I am satisfied if it cause delight; for delight is the chief, if not the only, end of poesy : instruction can be admitted but in the second place ; for poesy only instructs as it delights. Drvden — Def. of Essay on Dram. Poesy. To render poetry by the voice and seize it by the ear, exacts an almost sacred attention. There must exist between the reader and his hearers' the closest bond, without which the electric communication of feeling cannot take place. If this cohesion of souls is lacking, the poet is like an angel trying to sing the hymns of heaven amid the sneers of hell. Balzac — Lost Illusions. CONTENTS Adown the Flashing Stream A Hundred Years Ago . A Last Visit "A Military Gentleman," by Rembrandt Anniversary Poem .... A Portrait horn the Sea Asleep .... A Twisted Thing . Blue Eyes 1 Wight Passaconaway Dandelions Faces from Wonderland Fair Ormond For a Birthday Calendar From the Piazza doing and Coming Helene .... Her Twelfth Birth-Day . How Can You Ever Find Mi- ls It Not Strange . June Fancies Marguerite Noman's Land . I ) ( it-mini Oh! *Twas the Funniest Thim On the Road ( >n the Rocks at York Orphean Music O the Children . Parallels Silver Wedding Bells Song .... 141 119 128 30 101 76 189 '55 C57 161 28 150 97 •49 54 18 i-3 43 93 171 44 LM '83 72 65 25 79 17 153 117 81 144 CONTENTS Song of the Summer Wind . . . . . .142 Speed the Going — Welcome the Coming ... 49 Spirit of Love . . . . . . . . -136 Spring is Coming ........ 192 The Boatman . . . . . . . . -57 Discovery ........ 26 Gardens of Noddy . . . . . . 115 Farm-House ........ 123 Joy-Bells Ring . . . . . . . .185 Land of Sleep ....... 36 Life-Stream . . . . . . . 133 Magi and the Star . ...... 137 North Wind's Winter Outing . . . . -87 Old Man's Yesterday 63 Old Stone Bridge ....... 23 Princes in the Tower . . . . . . 71 Reaper . . . . . . . . .165 Return ......... 41 River Beautiful . . . . . . . 175 Road and the River ...... 74 Spinning-Wheel at Rest . . . . . -194 Sunset Bridge ....... 147 Very Biggest Boy . . . . . . .169 Two Apples . . . . . . . . . hi Under the Old Elm 191 Under the Trees ........ 20 Where Roses Grow . . . . . . . .126 Whispers ......... 33 Who Would Stand Still 37 Y e Balade of ye Fretfull Lytel Robin .... 90 Y« Old Stone Wall 178 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Portrait — Frontispiece Orphee ......... 16 The Old Stone Bridge . . . . . . 22, 24. "A Military Gentleman," by Rembrandt ... 31 The Land of Sleep ........ 36 The Return ......... 40 June Fancies " Where the lilies drink themselves into dreams" . 47 Speed the Going — Welcome the Coming " Beneath the stars" ...... 50 " Ships in ice-floes jammed" . . . . 51 The dead old year . . . . . . . 52 The Presidential Range . . . • . . -55 The Boatman " The glad wild bell " ...... 60 The Old Man's " Yesterday" " As the tall corn parted right and left" ... 62 The Princes in the Tower ...... 70 O Gemini .......,., 73 A Portrait from the Sea ...... 76 On the Rocks at York " Purring in soft content, in sleepy ease" . . 78 Ocean surf ......... 80 Silver Wedding Bells The wedding ring ....... 84 The North Wind's Winter Outing " You scurry away on mischief bent " .... 86 The tempest ........ 88 Fair Ormond . . . . . . . . .100 " The clustered yellow globes " .... 96 A live oak ......... 98 The Tomoka river ...... 99 i 27 i 3 o 139 143 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Two Apples " Rosy-red lips must not taste of it now" . . 1 10 " Cling to the tree ! Steady" . . . . -113 A Hundred Years Ago The old church ....... 120 The Farm-House " The ghostly mill " ....... 122 " Where coiled it lies" . . . . . . [ 2 r Where Roses Grow Wheat and sickle ....... Marguerite ....... The Magi and the Star ...'.... Song of the Summer Wind Moonlight ........ The Sunset Bridge " At last the bridge was finished" .... 146 For a Birthday Calendar The night-blooming cereus . . : . . 149 Faces from Wonderland . . . . . . -151 Bright Passaconaway ....... 162 " Castle on the Rhine" . .... 160 The Reaper " The voiceless village " . . . .166 The Very Biggest Boy " A boy who gives no quarter" . . . . .168 The pet l?Q Is It Not Strange Life from death ....... 172 The River Beautiful . . . . . . . 174 Y" Old Stone Wall 180 Noman's Land " A beautiful Nowoman's hand" . . . . 182 Asleep " Dear tired Mother Earth has gone to sleep" . . 188 November scene . . . . . . .189 THE SPINNING-WHEEL AT EEST. POEMS " ORPHEAN MUSIC fHE legendary Orpheus and his lyre, — Who led the wood-nymphs captive at the sound Of his clear voice and sentient strings, and bound The streams with bands so soft they could not tire, Thrilling the sylvan wilds with sweet desire To staunch for aye the ever-bleeding wound Left by his lost Eurydice, — are found Again when soft October's leafy fire Burns on the silent mountains, and the woods Are bursting with the melody that springs From hidden chambers — chauntin°s low and deep , Fit music for these sacred solitudes. Here, breathless, all things listen as he sings, And, listening, fall like children into sleep. 17 GOING AND COMING rOING — the great round Sun, Dragging the captive Day Over behind the frowning hill, Over beyond the bay — Dying : Coming — the dusky Night, Silently stealing in, Wrapping himself in the soft, warm couch Where the golden-haired Day had been Lying. Going — the bright, blithe spring : Blossoms ! how fast ye fall, Shooting out of your starry sky Into the darkness all Blindly ! Coming — the mellow days ; Crimson and yellow leaves ; Languishing purple and amber fruits Kissing the bearded sheaves Kindly ! Going — our early friends ; Voices we loved are dumb ; iS GOING AND COMING Footsteps grow dim in the morning dew ; Fainter the echoes come Ringing : Coming to join our march — Shoulder to shoulder pressed — Gray-haired veterans strike their tents For the far-off purple west, Singing ! Going — this old, old life ; Beautiful world ! farewell ! Forest and meadow ! river and hill ! Ring ye a loving knell O'er us ! Coining — a nobler life ; Coming — a better land ; Coming — the long, long, nightless day ; Coining — the grand, grand Chorus ! T 9 UNDER THE TREES fHE mellow music of this dewy autumn eve Tinged with the purple clusters of the bosky vine, Falls soothingly upon the ear, as on the heart The healing benison of sacramental wine. The while light fingers wake the subtle harmonies That sleep among the .swaying branches overhead, We '11 watch the unseen angels pave the sky with stars, O'er which the phantom coursers of night's Queen will tread. E'en now we hear her wheels behind the breathless hills ; And see ! heraldic lights go shooting up the sky : She comes ! With queenly grace she guides her foaming steeds, Dispensing regal gifts, love beaming in her eye. A shower of silver coin falls gleaming at our feet, Struck from the leafy dies that .swing above our heads ; And sweetly tired Nature breathes her evening prayer Beneath the filmy sheet the mild Queen-mother spreads. THE OLD STONE BRIDGE 1 lit ENVY you, old Bridge ! (!)=>» To stand upon the border Land of shadow, rock, and river, Where the burnished sun-spears quiver Forever and forever, And the song to the old warder Endeth never — endeth never ! Ah ! I envy you, old Bridge ! I envy you, old Bridge ! Oh ! how the waters sparkle As the)' whelm your feet with kisses ! E'en the constellation Pisces Scarce could blaze with warmer splendor ! Then to see the waters darkle With a sadness sweet and tender As they pass beyond the Bridge ! I envy you, old Bridge ! You never tire of gazing At the fishes, deftly speckled, At the ledges, sunshine freckled, THE OLD STONE BRIDGE Nor of listening to the trebles, So sweet and so amazing, Of the water on the pebbles. Yes ! I envy you, old Bridge. -i ON THE ROAD ,:7j[^HEY wondered how the day could be so bright — fc Ten thousand aeons lie within thy cold, Inexorable arms ; — and they enfold Rich argosies of human lives, that come From out thy frigid breast into the hum And fever of our thought, with wealth untold Of Arctic secrets — nevermore. Bells tolled, Unheard, their exit ; and the muffled drum Of soundless under-heaving waters rolled Its sullen, ice-cold music through the vast Unsympathetic waste of frozen breath That spans the brazen Northland, when the bold True hearts grew strangely still, and, shudd'ring, passed Into the bosom of this double death. 36 WHO WOULD STAND STILX |x0H ! it is beautiful — this growing old ! K]X Who would stand still ! E'en while the Morning bathes herself in gold, The Sun climbs up the hill. Who would stand still ! The world we live in spins Along the ways Worn smooth by thundering ages, and begins To show her length of days. We must not gaze upon the backward way With vain regrets : Bright pictures mingle with the evening's gray — A few sad silhouettes. Only the old have store of memories : Their wistful ears Are trained to hold the splendid melodies And songs of other years. And every step they take — each silver hair — But marks the near And yet still nearer day, when over there The white tents disappear. 37 WHO WOULD STAND STILL One bugle call — and then the glad discharge ! Just think of it ! To know you stand upon the river's marge — The very brink of it ! O boyhood's friend ! — that only yesterday Exhaled like mist — You seemed in sweet content to float away On waves of amethyst : And howsoever bright this dear old world May seem to be, The best is where last evening's sunset furled Its saffron sails for thee. 38 THE RETURN 2 (C ^Jf&HREE Y ears ! l wonder if she '11 know me : I limp a little, and I left one arm At Petersburg, and I am grown as brown As the plump chestnuts on my little farm ; And I am shaggy as the chestnut-burs, But ripe and sweet within, and wholly hers. " The darling, how I long to see her ! My heart outruns this feeble soldier pace ; For I remember, after I had left, A little Charlie came to take my place. Ah, how the laughing three-year-old brown eyes— His mother's eyes — will stare with pleased surprise ! " I ni sure they "re at the corner watching ; I sent them word that I should come to-night ;— The birds all know it, for they crowd around, Twittering their welcome with a wild delight ; And that old robin with a halting wing,— I saved her life three years ago last spring. " Three years ! Perhaps I am but dreaming, For, like the Pilgrim of the long ago, I 've tugged a weary burden at my back, Through summer's heat and winter's blinding snow, 41 THE RETURN Till now I reach my home, my darling's breast, Where I can throw my burden off — and rest." When morning came, the early rising Sun Laid his light fingers on a soldier sleeping Where a soft covering of bright green grass Over two lowly mounds was lightly creeping, But waked him not ; — his was the rest eternal, Where the brown eyes reflected love supernal. 42 HER TWELFTH BIRTHDAY £jFpN that far land where Jordan's silver stream (s^ Rolls onward, pensive, to the silent sea, Dwelt Mary, lovely as an angel's dream, — The sweetest flower that bloomed in Galilee. So beautiful was she, so queenly fair, So full of purity and heavenly worth, The Father chose her from the maidens there To be the one beloved of all the earth. In the sweet vale where Sugar River sings Its love-songs to the music of the bells, And all the throbbing air is full of wings Of bees and birds, another Mary dwells : My Mary — darling of her father's heart, The centre of a thousand hopes and fears : O Son of Mary ! haste to take her part When I have passed the Gateway of the Years. 43 JUNE FANCIES fM)N turning the leaves of my memory ■4 I found a wonderful June, Where the leaves were as green as its hills were blue ; Where the birds were as blithe as their vows were true Where the humming-bird and the bumble-bee Made music as sweet as sweet could be — A tremulous, wing-born rune — That comes floating to me on this breezy knoll As the flood-tides of memory over me roll. In that wonderful June of the haze-clad years, That thirty springs have embalmed in tears, I dreamily strolled Through a forest old To a home where the lights and .shadows lay ' Neath the swaying boughs the live-long day ; For there the Queen of the forest shades, The wild flowers twined in her mazy braids, Held daily court in her breezy castle, And a loving heart for her trusty vassal. But I stopped a beechen tree beneath To list to the music the green woods breathe From every dell of the wild wood, Where the breezy swells Make the billowy bells Ring soft in the ears of childhood, — 44 71 r NE I'. IXC YES J And the rising and falling tide of green That laved the cliffs of the bine unseen Unshipped my soul from its moorings. So, lying beneath that old beech tree, In the wine-dark depths of that summer sea, My spirit rose on its poor wings Through countless fathoms Of leafy chasms, To where a boat Had chanced to float From the mystic realm of phantasms. In that gossamer barque, by the world unseen, On the surging waves of that sea of green, Swinging and singing, Singing and swinging, Floating along in the ambient air, I gathered the forest dreams to my breast Till my soul was full of the strange unrest — The dancing and tossing and gleaming boughs, The whispered songs and the whispered vows — That greeted me everywhere. The sun was rollicking down the west, Proud as a girl in a scarlet vest, When I anchored above the staid old tree Where I left myself when I went to sea. Down through the dim aisles And over the rocks, 45 JL WE F- INCIES Climbing the old stiles, And threading the walks Which the steady tramp of the thirsty kine Had left in many a tortuous line Down to the puncheon broad and deep, Where the hills deposit the wine they weep, — Where the lilies drink themselves into dreams Of scintillant wings by the babbling streams,— And at waning day My devious way Had led to the marge of the shadowy bay. On the magic mirror's circling brim The veeries were singing their evening hymn,— But hushed their song, as in days of yore When all the world was entranced before The beauteous Eve, in her heaven-born dress, A vision of new-world loveliness ; For a form delicious as Eden graced, Half hid by the ripples that kissed her waist, Was sporting there in the amber water — The sun and the greenwood's fairest daughter. I turned aside to a pathway old Full of the wondrous vision, And met my love in the vanishing gold, Roaming the fields elysian. What followed there I dare not tell : But it was a grand old tune Which the green leaves sang, — and they sang it well, In that wonderful evening in June. 46 SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING Vicksburg, Miss., January i, 1869 SKraAST night the calm, sweet Moon looked down •"./.' and wept To see the Old Year — tottering", patient, pale — vSlow toiling- toward the town while others slept ; — His " frosty pow " no kindly covering wore ; His silver locks the rudest night winds tossed, And snatched his staff, — the icicle he bore, — Out of the fingers stiffened with the frost. Alone, deserted, friendless, houseless, cold, Unpitied and unloved he seemed to be, Who once was young and beautiful and bold As e'er was rover on the untamed sea. Well we remember with what ringing cheers He coasted down the snow-clad early days, To find his curly head all drenched with tears The blue-eyed Spring-time wept at Love's delays ; And how he wantoned with the birds and bees, And kissed the blossoms till their cheeks were flushed With ecstasy of love and Love's decrees : And then, with all their blissful passion hushed Into the twilight of a perfect peace, The young Year glided out beneath the stars, 49 SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING Shrugging his shoulders at his quick release, And with one bound cleared all the Summer bars ! Anon we saw him lounging 'neath the trees, Sporting in shady woods and waterfalls, Fanning himself with every passing breeze, And listening the herdsman's cattle-calls, — Until plump Autumn, bursting with her stores, Brought votive offerings to the pursy Year, And opened wide her golden folding-doors To any debauchee in search of cheer. We saw him enter, and around him sprung A hundred nymphs, in beauty's filmiest robes, Bringing him cups of purple juices wrung From out the sweet hearts of the clustering globes, And loading him with lusciousuess, until His arms, broad shoulders, back, neck, head, and all Were one vast mass of mellow fruits ; — and still (The doors swung to) we did not see him fall ! 5° SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING But when last eve we saw him toiling on, And knew his hours were numbered, we went out And took him by the arm — his strength was gone — And sought to lead him to discourse about The story of his life — a " fourfold tale " But broken words 3 were all that met the ear : ' ' Starvation ' ' — " floods " — " oppression " — " woe and wail " — ' ' Scallawags "■— " insurrection' ' — " Ku Klux ' ' fear ' ' — " Drought " -- " reconstruction " - " constitution damned " — " The freedmen's bureau " — " earthquakes " — " pestilence " — Volcanoes jammed " Collisions robbers " — " ships in icefloes ' carpet-baggers " — " accidents 5' SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING When o'er the sleeping city the great tongue Of the cathedral bell struck " One — two — three " To " twelve " — and then the Old Year lay among His myriad brothers that had ceased to be : The iron hammer which that giant swung Had beaten out his life and set him free ! In that weird hour we stood alone, — or thought We stood alone, — and heard the mighty wings Of Father Time, who crumbles worlds to nought, Go sweeping by, bearing the shadowy things Of the dead Past to their eternal home, — The chief among them Eighteen Sixty-Eight, And with his vast collection, the great tome 5 2 SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING That wraps all histories like the Book of Fate : — And so we said, — " Farewell, thou grand Old Year ! With all thy faults and follies thou did'st bring Pleasures and benefits untold — perchance a tear ! We '11 shed a few for thee, thou fallen king !" A watchman on the Southern walls, we cry, — ' The day is breaking ! rouse ye from your sleep ! The New Year dawns ! and up the eastern sky The infant prodigy begins to creep ! FT en now from over all the groaning lands A thousand voices call, ' What cheer?' ' What cheer?' And we reply, — Hope, smiling blandly, stands, And wears the features of the glad New Year ! Sweet Plenty, — daughter of the fruitful sun, — Sits kindly at your boards ; and heavenly Peace, With all her glowing train, has just begun To break your fetters, giving swift release. Fet all the dead Past bury all its dead ! Fook not behind ! onward and upward press ! Fet the grand Future stand for you in stead Of vanished hopes and faded loveliness ! Put your own shoulders to the jaded wheel Of the great Car that moves the nations on, And so, with iron arms and hearts of steel, The highest heaven of glory shall be won ; — Forgetting not allegiance true to give To the Great Monarch of the earth and sky, And to the Commonwealth in which you live, And to the Starry Flag that gleams on high ! ' ' 53 FROM THE PIAZZA MT. WASHINGTON FROM THE MT. PLEASANT HOUSE rg^fcCROSS his breast the autumn sunbeams fall, (stiyl While up his shaggy side the shadows creep From foot to crown, — a flock of mountain sheep Slow climbing homeward at the shepherd's call, Scaling with certain foot the jagged wall, O'erleaping gulfs and canons wildly deep Within whose cells the storm- winged Furies sleep, — Until they gather at their starlit stall. And up the iron trail the genii go, With sturdy shoulders pushing venturous trains, While the grim mountain shakes his sides with glee To see his faithful vassals toiling so. At last the clouds engulf them, and it rains : So great ships vanish in a thunderous sea. 54 THE BOATMAN |ONE autumn day, when all the sweet-voiced woods X^ Were laughing merrily in their solitudes, And when the arms of Mother Earth were full Of fruits delicious, odorous, beautiful, There floated down the river of my rhyme A drowsy listener to the far-off chime Of sweetest bells, that from the hazy shore The throbbing ether to the Boatman bore. And while his soul on restless wings was gone, The silent-sandalled waters drifted on, — Past stately shores, high crowned with statelier towers, Where dallying day prolonged the festal hours, — Past verdurous slopes, whose soft and tempting breast Sore lured the wanderer to longed-for rest, — Until, like sapphires in a maiden's dream, A thousand stars lay Hashing in the stream. And over all, — the slopes, the towers, the hill, The murmuring water and the Boatman still, — The stealthy moon her filmy network flung ; But Darkness, terrified, aside had sprung, And, mounting hastily the tethered breeze, Fled to his hiding-place among the trees, 57 THE BOATMAN His hoof-beats pattering on the yellow leaves Like summer rain-drops from the summer eaves. Yet still the Boatman floated down the shores ; His nerveless hands still grasped the nerveless oars, For o'er the waves came such melodious swells, That all the air seemed resonant of bells ; — As on the morning when the earth was young A universe of worlds their paean rung ; Or in some dim, sequestered wood, the birds Fill all the sounding aisles with liquid words. The Boatman leaned bewildered on his hand, For round him floated, beautiful and grand, Faces and forms he had not seen before, Steering his shallop to the shelving shore, — While the mild moon a shadowy Temple threw Beneath the answering waters, till there grew Upon his vision scenes of fairy-land, As lightly shifting as the shifting sand. They reached the shore — the Boatman and his crew They led him up the path all gemmed with dew Which Nature — kindly priestess — had been wont To scatter from her beuedictive font,— Until they gained the utmost terrace, when Such floods of glory burst upon his ken, That speechless, motionless, entranced he stood, A willing victim for the kindling wood. 58 THE BOATMAN Yet flowed the river on — but not for him ; The shallop beckoned from the water's brim ; The waves, that erst breathed music in his ear, Now called in vain— the Boatman could not hear; — Nor eye nor ear had he for sight or sound Save for the fane on that enchanted ground, Whose vast entablature rode, high and bold, Nine caryatids of the purest mould. So Atlas, grimly bending 'neath his load, Through fields fouudationless his pathway strode, While round and round him sun and moon and stars Drave their fierce coursers and their fiery cars, Glad homage paying to the stern intent Of that unyielding back, yet sorely bent, Which, all uncheered by hope of victor's crown, Had never paused to lay its burden clown. And over all the Temple's massive walls, Its mullioned windows lighting twilight halls, Its grand entablature, and spires, and dome, An evergreen of rarest beauty clomb ; And peering out beneath its sheltering green, Like Love 'neath lashes of some rustic queen, The Boatman saw the faces of his dream While floating idly on the errant stream. At last they bound him to the crackling pile ; The glad wild bell pealed joyously the while ; 59 THE BO ATM A IV The blazing fagots waved their lambent flame ; He heard sweet voices calling him by name ; The curling smoke with smothering kisses crept Close to his lips and brow— the Boatman slept ; — But when the sunlight on that Temple shone, It sent back greeting from an added stone. 60 THE OLD MAN'S "YESTERDAY." v'V/TAS 'T yesterday ? Yes, 'twas yesterday ^.^ It must have been yesterday morn : I sat on a rock by the River Ray, Where the squadrons of martial corn Their .silken banners had just unfurled To the breeze, by the singing stream, When a vision of beauty, all golden-curled, Grew into my waking dream. " I know it was yesterday , for now The rustle I seem to hear, As the tall corn parted right and left, And a voice rang soft and clear, — ' Wait, Willie, wait ! I am almost there ! I said I would grant your wish , So I 've made a line of my golden hair, And am coming to help you fish ! ' " Yes ! (why do I doubt ?) it was yesterday — For I see the soft tassels there Sunning themselves in a worshipful way In the light of her shining hair, While her voice rings merrily over the corn, — ' Oh, Willie ! come help me through, THE OLD MAN'S "YESTERDAY" For I am " the maiden all forlorn," And my feet are wet with dew ! " 'And you know I 'm coming to help you fish : But you '11 think me a silly girl,' For I have n't a bit of bait — but wait ! I '11 bait with a tiny curl ! And, Willie, say, do you think they '11 bite ? And then what shall I do ? Must I pull and pull with all my might ? But I '11 wait, and look at you !' "Ah, me ! ah, me ! was it yesterday ? It seems but a day ago ! Yet three-score years of yesterdays Have covered my head with snow Since we sat, where the summer still comes and goes, I and my sweetheart May, On the rock where the ripples kissed our toes, And fished in the River Ray." 6 4 OH ! 'T WAS THE FUNNIEST THING BUT I 'U, TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT (UOp'D had a d'licious birthday! I was just 'xactly (&f eight : So mamma told my grandpapa, who came in awful late, Soon after all the dollies and their mothers 'd gone away, And I and Ann Maria were so tired we couldn't play, Although I 'm sure he wanted to but grandpapa is nice : He said he 'd 'xcuse us this time, but he couldn't do it twice ! "And wasn't it the sweetest thing? — dear mamma 'ranged it all ! — To have my birthday come in May, when apple-blossoms fall Like great warm rosy snow-flakes all over the soft grass, And the dandelions have to blow and struggle through the mass To get their heads above the snow, p'cisely as the boys Do in the winter-time, but not with such a mis'ble noise ! " So after dolly 'd said her prayers — I b'lieve I 'd said mine too — And mamma 'd kissed me— just how many times I never knew — 65 OH I 'TWAS THE FUNNIEST THING And said ' Good-night, with pleasant dreams,' and tucked us both in tight, (You wouldn't b'lieve it ! but I tumbled out of bed one night And bumped my nose! — 'e-'e-'e-'e !) I never knew a thing Until, along towards morning, I heard a ting-a-ling-liug. " Well, p'r'aps I wasn't wide awake ! — but I just gave a leap Right out of bed, and left poor Ann Maria fast asleep, And hurried to the window where it opens on the lawn — And what d' you think I saw out there, all in the early dawn ? Why, forty hundred dew-bells rung by forty hundred elves ! Nobody heard those elfin chimes but just me — and them- selves ! " I heard them ring as plain as day ; — and down among the trees I saw the funniest goings-on ! — Some great fat Bumble- bees, And Humming-birds, and Butterflies, and lots of other things — Each one before a dew-drop mirror prinked, and stretched her wings, And combed her hair — then washed her face and bathed her pretty toes In the little pools that nestled in some sleepy Jacquemi- nots. 66 OH I 'TWAS THE FUNNIEST THING "And then to end their frolic, all their toilets being done, They found a 'normous dew-drop, just as golden as the sun, Almost as fat and jolly, which they whirled and danced around — The skirt dance ! — I know how myself ! — with not a .sin- gle sound Except the cut-glass elfin bells, and the laughter of the bees As they kicked, and bowed, and swayed, and twisted, underneath the trees. " I couldn't stand it 'nother minute — rushed headlong down the stair, Barefooted, in my 'nighty,' dragging dolly by the hair, My own hair flying wildly, and we joined the merry-go- round Till the dew-drop grew so dizzy she rolled over on the ground : 'Twas then the Butterfly trod upon old Bumble's sorest toe, And the touchy thing just threatened 'sassination to her foe! ' ' She always carried — so she said — a dagger or two for use In just sue// eases, and ' 't would give her pleasure to intro- duce But the speech was never finished, for the Butterfly flew away, 67 OH I 'TWAS THE FUNNIEST THING And the Bumblebee sent for a doctor, and the rest of us wouldn't stay, And — what seems most inexp-p'eable — my mamma ' Good-morning ' said, And I looked around, and there we were, both snug in our little bed ! ' ' — " your doom Is whispered down the grim and silent halls." THE PRINCES IN THE TOWER jOU wander hand in hand from room to room — (JLji On ever}- side barred windows and dead walls ; Dark shadows lnrk in corners, and your doom Is whispered down the grim and silent halls. Go to your couch, my Princes ! Let the sleep Of sweet forgetfulness sit on your eyes And dull your ears : so may your dreams be deep The while you pass unconscious to the skies. But that was O so long ago ! The princes of to-day Are free as birds to come and go From morn till evening gray. They are not smothered, drowned, or burned — Their feet are fleet as wings : Before we know it, they are turned From princes into kings. O GEMINI PRECIOUS pair of rascals, truly ! Up to all sorts of pranks unruly ! Fun and frolic in every motion ! As many moods as the changeful ocean — Sunshine and tempest any day ! What has become of the household quiet ? Gone ! — and ducats couldn't buy it ! Where did you come from, any way? Does Leda know you have gone a- Maying — Gone, from the fields of gold a-straying ? Did the watchful hosts of heaven say things When you threw away your starry playthings ? How they must miss you ilka day ! And such a long, dark journey — sleepy, And all alone, and hungry, weepy ! — You must have come by the Milky Way. The world is brighter since you love us ; But the fields of gold are dark above us, For now, at night, when you are calling, The glist'ning stars, like tears, are falling — 72 O GEM/ XI Falling for their lost Gemini : But though the weeping heavens miss you, And Leda longs to hug and kiss you, We cannot spare you — Clem and I. 73 THE ROAD AND THE RIVER §T was an eerie Road, but beautiful — in places : It wound along the foot of wooded hills, Now underneath great beetling cliffs with sullen faces, Then down the .softest valleys where the trills Of sylvan songsters filled the laughing, flower-clad meadows With music till the hour of evening prayer ; Then picked its way through undiscovered, starlit shadows, To places slumberful, and strange to care. The Road was wide and long — it had no known begin- ning ; The end no mortal eye would ever see ; — Forms tantalizing, beautiful, well worth the winning, Seemed ever beck'ning to some Good to be. And so the Road wound in and out — across morasses That shook beneath the tramp of host on host, While up and down and through the darkened mountain passes The tireless way led on from post to post. Beside this antique Road, unseen, unheard, a River Forever hugged the shore ; — its stealthy tread — 74 THE ROAD AND THE RIVER So soft and velvety it was — ne'er caused a shiver Among the heedless throng, nor thought of dread. They could not hear the dip of oars, nor yet the singing The fragrant air across the River bore ; They could not hear the eager swish of angels winging Their joyful errands on the sunlit shore. The River was not always deep, for sparkling shallows Made music, sometimes, for the children's ears ; Sometimes a glimpse across to where the sweet marsh- mallows Were growing, filled their wistful eyes with tears ; And once a little one, the darling of her mother, Her bare toes gleaming on the shining sand, And, closely guarding her, her watchful, brown-eyed brother, Went wading through the ripples hand in hand — And they were seen no more, their sunny faces hidden By floods of mist, perchance by floods of tears. But no one left that dusty, crowded Road unbidden : I watched them closely through the maze of years, And always — somehow, somewhere, sometime — still, un- sleeping — The voiceless boatman of the silent sea Was waiting at the brink, unmindful of the weeping, To row the traveller to the far countree. 75 A PORTRAIT FROM THE SEA 4 c£Z;TRANGE Slavic face ! — I mind the morning well G^> When first I met yon on that pebbly shore ! Old Ocean steadfastly refused to tell How he had polished yon with every swell For ages ; how he rolled you o'er and o'er The threshold of the beach's open door, A clear-cut portrait (artist, Wind- and- Wave), A foundling rescued from a watery grave. I wonder if St. Vladimir the Great E'er used your droshky in his rides of state ! Or did the face you counterfeit so well L,ook last on earth from some foul prison cell ? Not tell the secret of your age or birth ! Why, fur-capped Russian ! what 's your secret worth ? 76 ON THE ROCKS AT YORK |$HA, old Ocean ! — so I find you here, Just as I left you years and years ago, Unruffled, beautiful, a world of blue, — To-morrow, doubtless, to be decked with snow In dancing drifts upon an azure field, While o'er your face the warm south breezes blow. A calm, inviting, gently rippling sea, Your clear-cut facets flashing in the sun, Purring in soft content, in sleepy ease, After the frolics of the day are done, Whispering wild legends to the bearded rocks Ere yet the moon her journey has begun. Oft have I seen you kiss their rugged lips, Pledge them eternal fealty and trust, Full them to confidence with siren song, And then, upon the first great windy gust, Fly at their faces, shrieking loud and long, Doing your best to grind them into dust. " Thus far " — " no farther " (?) — See the rocky shore Slowly recede before the blows that fall From that old snant Tide-and-Wind-aiid-Wave ! 79 ON THE ROCKS AT YORK On all tempestuous nights I hear him call, — And night-fiends come, with battle-axe and ram, And thunder at the gray and crumbling wall. And so, old Sea, you eat the shore away : The icons pass — the mountains fill the sea, Gnawed into fragments by the tooth of Time : Some day, some day — it matters not to me — The continent will vanish, as this rhyme, And sea and sunset clasp their hands in glee. So SILVER WEDDING BELXS ,uORETTER fifty years of Europe than a cycle of G^fa Cathay," Sang a poet of our Fatherland, three thousand miles away, — On a little sea-girt island, just the bigness of your hand, Which the waves will wash away, some day, like piles of silver sand. But by "Europe" he meant England, as his rhythmic numbers rolled : All the world beyond the Channel had been left out in the cold. Pity overspread his features, with contempt not far away, As he thought of England's glory — and the wretches of Cathay ! " How they envy us our good things ! How they long to come in flocks To this island," thought the poet, "where we live like fighting cocks ! Where the blessed sun shines every day — beyond the clouds and fogs ! And where no blarsted Frenchman lives to gobble up our frogs ! ' ' SILVER WEDDING BELLS With sentiments akin to these, the happy pair to-night Look down upon the common world, from off the dizzy height Toward which, for just one hundred years — less seventy and five ! They 've bravely climbed, through sun and storm, and wonder they 're alive ! " ' Survival of the fittest !' — look at us and see how true ! Those who reach this sun-crowned pinnacle are really very few ! And then, to think what we have done ! — look round upon our sons ! Four stalwart boys, as brave as ever fired their country's guns ! " How many have done better? Count your jewels o'er and o'er, And if, perchance, in counting them you make the number more, Thank Him who made your cup of life's rich juices overflow In sweeter draughts of happiness than angels ever know ! " With deep and true thanksgiving, and with placid souls to-night, We gaze upon the faded years, so rapid in their flight, With a sort of mellow pity for the men and maidens fair Who here have shut out heaven, while not certain of it there ! ' ' S3 SILVER WEDDING BELLS Such are the pleasing fancies that go coursing through the brains Of host and hostess, like the steeds of Arabs o'er the plains : We will not grudge them one bright thought, for ne'er for them on earth Will such a morning dawn again, or such a day have birth. I remember well the morning, although 't was long ago ! Jack Frost had limned the window-panes — outside, the creaking snow : The lazy sun lay shivering in bed behind the hills : He had no wife to keep him warm—the worst of human ills ! He drew the blankets tightly round his head and lusty form, For 't was a morning when a bed of coals could not keep warm : The breakfast bell he scouted, his hair was all un- kempt, And for weddings he professed to feel the most sublime contempt. Such was the situation ; — in a room not far away — I see it now as plainly as though 'twere yesterday — Warm friends and kindly neighbors had gathered one by one To say " God-speed," and kiss the bride — a jewel fairly won. 83 SILVER WEDDING BELLS They stood before the minister, this young and lovely pair, — He young — she lovely — both young : — I am bound to treat them fair ! Brave words were softly said — a maiden vanished like the dew : That moment — ■ — disappeared from mortal view. Ends the story. They are with us ; — five-and-twenty years ago They began their pleasant journey, when the world was dressed in snow, Robed expressly for the wedding, robed in white again to-night, While the moon, true love's assistant, sheds o'er all her tender light. Blessings on them — blessings ever ! May their last years be their best ! May the}' gaze with tranquil rapture toward the gateway of the west, Where all things bright and beautiful — the sun, the moon, the stars — In long processions disappear behind the golden bars. 84 I 5 THE NORTH WIND'S WINTER OUTING '. IaOLD Buccaneer! from your starry tent, C%fa Where the frost king cannot bind you, You scurry away, on mischief bent, With your crew of howls behind you : Ride fast and far, till your horses' neigh And the clang of your spurs and lances Are heard from the close to the break of day In the children's dreamland fancies. Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! Drive headlong down great Baffin bay, Plough deep the cringing water, Till the thousand storm-born Furies play At the game of wreck and slaughter : Fly thundering down the slopes of snow On your plunging ice toboggan. Your war-cry heard by friend and foe — The North Wind's mighty slogan ! Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! Shriek madly — howl to your heart's content, Demoniac wind of the winter ! Blow high ! blow low ! till your strength is spent- The strength of an Arctic sprinter! S; THE NORTH WIND'S WINTER OUTING Go trumpeting through the mountain woods Like a giant Son of Thunder, And waken the torpid solitudes As the hemlocks split asunder. Blow-\v-w ! Blow-w-w ! Seize hold of the elm trees' shivering limbs, And give the old roof a lashing To the tune of your ringing battle hymns And the toppling tiles down-crashing : Push recklessly through that clapboard rent Where the out- with the inside mingles, And, to give our spirits a freer vent, Take a twist at the mossy shingles. Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! You have wrecked fair ships and have played with Death, Fierce foe of the icebound seaman ! Have shaken our cot with your gusty breath— The breath of a storm-brewed demon ! 88 THE NORTH WIND'S WINTER OUTING But come to the door by the frosty path And list to the children's prattle, The crackling logs on the blazing hearth, And the teakettle's tittle-tattle. Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! The children play where the firelight falls — ( )utside, the snow is flying ! The shadows dance on the laughing walls — Who cares for the North Wind's sighing ! Go back, wild tramp, bewildered, dumb, To your home where the mercury freezes ; But come again when the blue-birds come. In the softest of vernal breezes. Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! 89 Y E BALADE OF Y K FRETFUI.lv EYTEL ROBIN 4§M BEASING sumer afternone : — ^fb No breth of aire was steringe ; Y e frogges blynked 'neath y e lilie-paddes ; No partriches were whurring. Y e grases wulde nott bend their beds, Nor wbysper to eehe other ; Y e lambs, in lamb's-wooll sumer suites, Were sure that they sholde .smother. Y e kow stood kne-deepe in y c pool Where temptinge sehade hadde broghte hir : Hir nerveless taille hung limpe and stille Above y° steaminge water. Y e bumblenbees, on languid winges, Went horn, and ceased their humming, And in their easy-chaires they dremed Of cool Septembre's coming. Y e molten suiine runne downe y c west, Impacient for y e shelter Beyond y e cool grene mountain-toppes — Y e daye was suche a melter ! 90 YE BALADE OF YE FRETFULL LYTEL ROBIN A panting lytel Robin, perched Amonge y p rede-eheked cheries, So overcome hee coude nott pyke Y° tantalising beries, — Sehokk d his mamma with dreadfull wordes : ' ' If thys s y° kinde of wether You ve hatched mee to, I wisch — I wisch — I ddc nott a single fether " Upon my bak — so there !" — Atte thys Y° precious lytel mother Just gasped — and sobbed ; — shee coude nott chide Thys childe — shee hackle no other. But whenne y e father homeward came Acros y° feeldes of clover, And herde y e sad, sad storie, theune Hee sente a lettre over To Robin-toun for twenty byrdes To sitte in consultation Upon thys case of mutinie Within y e Robin nation. e They sate within y e cherie-tree — Eche Robin took a cherie — Whiles on a distant lim y° childe Of sinue sate solemne — very. 91 YE BALADE OF YE FRETFULL LYTEL ROBIN Y° final verdit was, that eche And everie single fether Sholde bee pulled off y c Robin's bak, Regardless of y e wether, — And that hee thenne bee turned aloofe To rome y e wyde worlde over, A hatteless, eoteless, hornless byrde, Without a frend or lover. Atte once they fell upon y e ehilde — Thys sterne, relentless jurie— And wulde have torn eehe fether out In their ungoverned furie, — Hadde nott y e farmer's trustie gunue Just thenne begunne its cracking : In fiftene minutes twenty byrdes In Robin-laud were lacking. Nexte daye y e morn was cool and bright : Y c farmer hadde for dinner A most delicious Robin-pye : A sweete songe sang y e sinner Oute in y c orcherd where y e breese Swung high y e mocking beries, And filled his downie basket fulle Of rype, rede-brested cheries. 92 HOW CAN YOU EVER FIND ME iC : : Jr'T is so hard, my love, my more than life, G\ To say Good-bye ; To leave the arms so empty, where your wife Found it so sweet to lie ; No kisses — oh ! it cuts me like a knife, Dear one, just to lie down and die, E'en though your great heart guards my slumber deep, And June's warm tones, in whispers low, Break lovingly upon my dreamless sleep, And I can hear you go, And come again, and go, and hear you weep, You love me so. " And, dearest, when you come to that far land Where I shall be, I may not know the place upon the strand Of the deep crystal sea Where your light boat will touch ; — I may not stand With outstretched arms, where you can see The face you long for ; — I may be away Oti some most sweet and holy quest : — How can you ever find me, then ? — the way Will seem so long, at best, Till your dear head may lie again, some day, Upon my breast." 93 HOW CAN YOU EVER FIND ME " Dear heart, it will be easy, when I go, To find you there, For all the heavenly throng will surely know Your dazzling, sunlit hair, So radiantly beautiful, and so Will make sweet haste to tell me where My hungry heart may find you — in what realm Of beauty. I shall listen long, Beneath the shade of some o'erarehing elm, For snatches of a song That will my soul with rapture overwhelm And make me strong. " And I shall follow it — no song so sweet Was ever heard ; Shall wildly listen for your footsteps fleet, Swifter than any bird ; — And when the violets beneath your feet Breathe in your breath, their fragrance stirred By your glad coming ; and the ruddy gleams Of parted lips, just touched with dew, Break through the trees ; and the warm, limpid beams Of loving eyes of blue Come flying to my arms — Good-bye, wild dreams ! / shall have you . ' ' 94 .iwilki FAIR ORMOND ! EgAIR Ormond of the suubright shore — • How sweet our memories be ! The restful river at her door ; Behind, the white-fringed sea. The wild waves chant her sweetest charms- She turns her face away ! The warm breeze clasps her in his arms And kisses her all day. A Oueen, no jewelled robe she lacks : She reigns right royally, One soft hand on the Halifax, The other on the sea. Her orange groves are wondrous fair : The clustered yellow globes Are grouped in constellations there — Thrown back their royal robes ( M emerald-green, so longing eyes May feast on golden worlds 97 FAIR ORMOND That hang for aye in Southern skies For orange-blossom girls. The live-oaks swing the woodland sprites In loops of ashen gray, When lovers crowd the moonlight nights, And fairy-land is gay. ■ >:. IB Through massive golden sunset bars The day departs in state, While one by one the wizard stars Steal through the twilight gate To gaze on bloody fields of old, Of Spanish derring-do, 9 3 FAIR ORMOND Where Ponee de L,eon fought for gold And Indian arrows flew. And if we listen when the doors Of night are all ajar, The rhythmic dip of shadowy oars Will greet us from afar. Where seintillant Tomoka glides, With heaven above, below, Red warriors wooed their wild-rose brides And still his waters flow As calmly, mutely to the sea As ever waters ran, — The loveliest dream in Florida, An Arcady for Pan. 99 FAIR ORMOND Fair Ormond ! you are wondrous sweet- Your flowers, your birds, your trees ;- We kiss again your dainty feet ; We feel your cooling; breeze. ANNIVERSARY POEM 5 51 »N a far Eastern land — the splendid Sunrise L,and — (&>"" There lived a king, three thousand years ago : So wise was he, so gentle, and so large of heart, That all the kings of earth would come, and go, And come again, to question him, and catch the pearls Of wisdom that, like gleaming drops of dew, Fell from his rich, ripe lips. His fame spread over all The lands ; and once a queen, with retinue Of camels that bore spices, and much gold, and stones Most precious — the most beautiful and wise Of women — came to prove him with hard questionings. The half had not been told ; — she veiled her eyes ; There was no spirit left in her. She sadly turned — This proud and noble dame — back to her own Fair land, with all her train of servants, cattle, gifts, And stores of wisdom hitherto unknown, A nobler, sweeter, purer, queeulier queen Than wise King Solomon had ever seen. But once — so runs the tale — the great King Solomon Received command from a far Greater King To build a palace — a grand temple — to His Name, Whose richness and magnificence should ring ANMl 'ERSAR J ' POEM A down the vibrant ages — unapproachable By king or potentate, ere yet the tide Of time should drift us all upon the farther shore And close the record on the hither side. The great king called his builders and his architects Into close counsel, and his plans were told : But there were not, in all his realm, artificers In wood and brass and ivory and gold With skill and subtle wisdom equal to the task Of inlaid work and carved cherubim, Gigantic pillars of bright brass, a molten sea With just three hundred knops beneath the brim, And lions, massive oxen, brazen wheels, and all The thousand other weird and wondrous things That made this palace of the Greater King divine — A Wonder of the World, as history sings. The great king's heart was sorely troubled, and he went To the high tower where he was wont to pray, And drew a soft divan to the great window, where He could o'erlook the city ; — 'twas broad day — But he was weary, sad, and sick at heart, for he Could see no sunshine brightening his way. Some unseen finger touched his tremulous eyes — he slept. A voice familiar fell upon his ear : "O king! take heart of grace: thy father's dearest friend, The king of Tyre, will help thee : never fear ! ANNIVERSARY POEM Awake ! e'en now his servant standeth at thy door With kindly messages for David's son." The king awoke : the dream was true — the problem solved : The dreamer's face shone like the rising sun. Meanwhile (the king was very near the hearts of all His loyal subjects) a vague rumor spread Throughout the city that his heart was troubled sore Because he had no artisan with head Sufficient for the royal task ; and sympathy And tender helpfulness and kindly words Came up from every side. But one bright early morn A flock of brilliant plumaged, white-winged birds Came flying o'er the city from the smiling west, And all the air was full of sparkling song, Which seemed to say to all those eager ears, — "Cheer up, For help is coming, and 'twill not be long ! Iyook to the west! Cheer up!" — and then they circled round And o'er the expectant city, till the hearts Of all grew lighter than the lightest thistle-down : E'en merchants came from all the crowded marts To join the throng : and as they gazed, came winding down The hills, with rapid, graceful, easy swing, A long processiou — horses, camels, men — and at Their head the grand old man from Tyre — the king ! i°3 ANNIl 'ERSAR i ' POEM As this great retinue approached the wide-eyed throng, And recognition came like lightning flash — " Hiram of Tyre !" they cried — " The king ! Hiram the king ! Hiram our benefactor ! ' ' Crash on crash The shouts rolled back in thunder peals, wave after wave, Over the city, over vale and hill, Dying away in faintest echoes, as dies the storm At the great Master's mandate, " Peace ! be still !" So Solomon and Hiram, friends and lovers, built That wondrous pile. Their fleets sailed side by side To Ophir, and brought back great store of ivory, And gold, and precious stones, and fabrics dyed In the rich colors of those dim, barbaric climes, To decorate the temple. And the king Of Tyre denuded Lebanon of cedars, firs, And everything of worth, that he might bring The oil of gladness to its humble worshippers. And when the task of that seven years was done — The twice one hundred thousand artisans at rest — That regal dream stood flashing in the sun, The grandest epic of the ages, and the best. So runs the strange old .story ; — it is quaintly told On dim and musty parchments, in the deep And dark recesses of an ancient monastery In the far East, where .strangest legends sleep, 104 ANNIVERSARY POEM And only curious travellers, who dig and delve For hidden gems, can rouse them from their slumbers : Let them sleep. Alas for that grand pile ! Where, where is it to-day ? No eye for five-and-twenty hundred years Has gazed upon its towers and peerless pinnacles : 'Tis buried in a soundless sea of tears. Another temple, not so grand and beautiful, We sing to-day ; a temple reared by hands And hearts and brains as true as ever struck a blow For love of God and man in Eastern lands ; A temple round whose modest pillars cling the loves Of thousands who have worshipped at its shrine, Whose tender memories, quivering through the haze of years, Dress it in robes that seem almost divine ; A temple reared to Education, Truth, and God, Most of whose builders lie beneath the sod. And yet this temple groweth still— it is not done : Of years three score and ten and five, it stands Baring its white, cool, youthful forehead to the sun, Gazing adown the centuries, its hands Outstretched in passionate welcome to the splendid sous And daughters of the future, whose clear eyes— As full of sweetest laughter as your mountain brooks- Shall aye reflect the nations' destinies. 105 ANNIl r ERSAR } ' PC 7EM Here shall they come, iu troops, to taste the cooling spring, And thirsty souls shall drink, and drink again, And, passing out these academic doors, shall go To lift to higher planes their fellow- men. Another Hiram, 6 too, we sing, and every inch A man, a king, — yea, every inch a king No whit the less than he of fragrant memory Whose praise the Poet has essayed to sing. The strength and wisdom of his ripe and golden years, His forceful guiding hand and teeming brain, Helped fashion here a fane so grand, we could but think The king of Tyre had come to earth again. To-day we saw a long procession winding up The hill, in gay attire, and at its head A form and face familiar in the years gone by : Our hearts were lighter, baleful fancies fled, For in that noble form we saw Hiram the king ! And warm hearts greeted him with silent cheers. No crown of gold sat heavy on his brow — instead, The rime of wisdom and of four-score years, As light and airy as the fleecy clouds of June Afloat in ether, — and an easy grace, Born of a life well spent, spread o'er his countenance : We thought he had a wondrous lovely face. Welcome, King Hiram, to your own ! — a kingdom won By the sheer force of duties nobly, grandly done ! 1 06 ANNIVERSARY POEM And here, upon the summit of this sun-erowned height, A beacon light, this modern temple stands, And hearts of gold will turn to her their eager feet, Drawn to her altars by her high commands. Her gracious light shall not be hid ; — like Joseph's kin, The sun, the moon, and the eleven stars, And all the circling mountains, feel their pulses thrill With humble homage, and shall leap the bars That stand between them and old Thetford Hill. The Poet, from the vantage-ground of his high tower Upon the rocky, thunderous coast of Maine, L,ooks out of his wide window on the turbulent sea And sees uncounted ships, an endless train, Go sailing by, and every canvas swelling with The hope and faith that high endeavor knows. How eagerly the white arms welcome every breeze From softest kisses to the hardest blows ! See how the salt spray leaps and flashes in the sun, And falls in cooling drops upon the prow ! See how the dancing waters humbly step aside To leave a pathway for the gleaming plow ! And you can hear the jocund voices of the crew Come lilting o'er the waves — I hear them now ! So each fair ship goes sailing on, and on, and on, Bound to some far-off port — God only knows The where, or whether its great anchor ever will Be cast where never more the wild wind blows ; 107 ANN I 1 'ERSAR J ' POEM Or whether, as the full ripe years go marching by, These brave craft, weather-beaten, canvas-torn, Will proudly sail across the harbor bar of home And cast their anchors where their hopes were born. Old Thetford Hill has sent her noblest craft to sea : Where are they now ? — Sometimes she cries, with tears, "When will my ships — my splendid ships — come back to me ? When will my ships come home?" But darkest fears Give place to triumph ! L,ook ! This early morn a soft Brisk breeze across the white-capped waters blew ; A fleet of bellying sail came flying down the wind, On every deck a bronzed, stout-hearted crew ; — And look around you now ! These faces — do you know ? — Are but the ships old Thetford launched — her ships of Long Ago. 1 08 " Rosy-red lips must not taste of it now. TWO APPLES 7 EVE ^EAUTIFUL. Queen of the shadowy aisles, Lighting their depths with your innocent wiles Wander not far from the whispering tree ; Adam lies under it dreaming of thee. Doubt is already disturbing his rest : Golden head ! go back and lie on his breast. Empress of Hearts the world over, beware ! Dangers beset thee, so young and so fair ; — Touch not the rosy-red fruit on the bough ; Rosy-red lips must not taste of it now. !!!!!! Eve ! O sweet Mother ! the world is in tears : Yet Hope floats serene down the river of years. TWO APPLES TELL That massive tree is not more firm of foot Than thou art, little Tell ! Thy father planted thee : thou must stay put — The why, thou knowest well. The tree and thou art back to back — stand firm ! The apple on thy head Has an uncertain, doubtful footing ; — squirm, And off it rolls, like lead ! Cling to the tree ! Steady ! Keep open eyes ! When all is done, shout " Ready !" Whiz-z-z ! — How that arrow from the stout bow flies! Thud! — What, done already? 1 Cling to the tree ! Steady!' THE GARDENS OF NODDY |jB)OWN iii the Gardens of Nid-uod-Noddy, <§Y$ Whither my pretty baby 's going, Nicest things and sweetest things for every baby body Are growing — growing growing. Little white pearls, like peas in a poddy, Out through the rosy gates are peeping, Down in the Gardens of Nid-nod- Noddy, Where my baby 's creeping. Still are the Gardens of Noddy, and shady — None can be warmer or lighter : Mamma is the sunlight and starlight, the lady That makes the gardens sweeter and brighter For every little baby boy and every little maidy That listens to the song she is humming Down in the gardens where the birdies keep shady, — " Nid-nod-Noddy 's coining !" Daffodils and poppies, hollyhocks and clover, Down in the Gardens of Noddy, Nod their pretty sleepy heads, over and over, To every little sleepy-headed body "5 THE GARDENS OE NODDY That wanders through those dreamy aisles to find a cosy cover Where the Nodheads in their hammocks are swing- ing ; Where are buttercups and daisies, golden-rod and clover, Sleepily — sleepily singing. Bees are stealing honey, and all about us flying, Looking for my pretty darling, maybe, But if in mamma's drowsy lap they find him snugly lying, They '11 dare not kiss my blue-eyed little baby. In the Noddy gardens all the sights and sounds are dying- Mamma's loving eyes have ceased their beaming ; All the world has drifted off, like summer clouds a-flying — Baby 's dreaming — dreaming. 116 PARALLELS /^NVISIBLE To-morrows crowd the encircling ether ! (9+ The granary of Time is full of them. And when The great black iron midnight gate falls prone before The might}- blows of the cathedral bell, a germ Shoots forth from its unseen retreat — a burning star From darkest background — and the bright To-day is born. So unborn souls are waiting — the uncounted millions Of God's sweet thoughts, stored in the vaulted cham- bers of Eternity — for the great summons. One by one, Like rain-drops from a balmy summer sky, they come Out of the vast unseen into the blazing light : Birth is their starting-place, and life their grand To- day. To-day sits on the breezy summer hill-tops, smiling ; — The pliant sun bounds up the cliffs at his command ; He paints fantastic ships upon the bright blue sea Above him ; bids the song-birds sing, the children play, And all the world be glad. But Night, remorseless, comes And snuffs his candle out : alas ! To-day is done ! 117 PARALLELS And Man, whose day began so blithely in the morning With touch of mother lips, the robin's song among The tree-tops, and the sweet breath of the western wind, Springs lightly to the helm of his fair ship, and sails Away into the beck'niug west, a phantom barque. Ah me ! Night eometh all too soon : his Day is done ! All the To-morrows and To-days since Time came flying Across abysmal space, sink in the pulseless sea Of Yesterdays ; — and Man — immortal, God-like Man — Goes with them, — but to rise to a more perfect day On some bright shore where Death is but a memory, And Night is buried in a living sea of Dight. nS A HUNDRED YEARS AGO 8 THOUSAND hearts are swelling With gratitude to-day, For here, to this His dwelling, Our Saviour leads the way : We turn the ancient pages, We scan the yellow leaves, Where Jesus, through the ages, Has written of His sheaves. We 've heard the simple story Of that courageous band, The young, and heads all hoar}-, That came to this fair land, The pathless wilds before them, The sleepless stars above, With Heaven bending o'er them, Its great heart full of love. The dews of June 9 were glist'ning Among the tree-tops there, And softest breezes list'ning To sadly cadenced prayer, When on that Sabbath morning A fire began to glow, — 119 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO This Church's faint, sweet dawning, A hundred years ago. A hundred years ! — How glorious Their voices, and how strong, As down the years, victorious, The echoes roll along. O Christ ! like them undaunted When overwhelmed with woe, Come bless the Church they planted A hundred years ago. 120 Now flying wildly through the ghostly mill " — THE FARM-HOUSE f/jpHE laughing sunshine peers above the hill, l c^z> And down the slumbering vale ; Then hastens on with nimble feet, until, A rood or two beyond the silvery rill Now flying wildly through the ghostly mill, He gains the cottage pale. The hospitable gate stands open wide, And, with impatient lips, The morning-glory beckons to her side The wayward youth whose quest she ne'er denied ; Her tangled tresses quick he thrusts aside, And dewy nectar sips. He lingers lovingly among the flowers That fringe the open door ; Then steals within, and wakes with magic powers The forms at rest in Dreamland's rustic bowers, And plays through morning's golden-tinted hours Upon the oaken floor. Meanwhile the swirling, effervescent brook Halts, and with dainty poise Leaps headlong to the sparkling, darkling nook, Where coiled it lies, a-dreaming of the spook, — The wheezy wheel, that groaned and stretched and shook With harsh, blood-curdling noise. I2 3 THE FARM-HOUSE The birds troll welcome to the .summer days From airy turrets high ; The bees are humming over ancient lays That erst were heard in Eden's shaded ways On that bright morn when universal praise Rolled through the arching sky. Bold chanticleers, with summons loud and shrill, The languid echoes wake, Which just before were sleeping, calm and still, Behind the pine-coned, breezy, whispering hill That drinks the cup of morning to its fill, Beyond the lazy lake. The butterflies have stretched their painted wings Upon the breath of dawn, And flit from flower to flower like human things ; The slaughtered hay its dying perfume flings Abroad upon the white- winged gale, which brings And strews it o'er the lawn. Beneath the moss-grown roof a group prepare To siege the smoking board, Which fills with grateful incense all the air ; But first the reverend sire with frosty hair Craves " daily bread " for those assembled there, From Him for aye adored. Quick follow then the clangings of the steel — Above no weltering foe ; No timid suppliants for mercy kneel, 124 THE FARM-HOUSE No vizored foemen with dim vision reel, But happy voices grace the morning meal With love's sweet overflow. And then the cheerful group contrive to share The labors of the day ; While I , with angling gear and eager air, Retreat, like lion to his forest lair, To shady woods where winding streams repair, And wile the hours away. 125 WHERE ROSES GROW tEAR Land of Love ! Sweet Land of Rest We send onr loved one home to thee : Oh ! let her lie upon thy breast, Soothed by heaven's matchless minstrelsy. The gates of pearl were opened wide To let the wanderer in, Where peace and rest and joy abide With those who dwell therein, — And we could fancy that we heard The angels from afar Shout Welcome ! While a snow-white bird Flashed through the gates ajar, Adown the pathway of the spheres, — And our too eager eyes Could scarcely see, through blinding tears, This envoy from the skies. But messages of love he brought : And now we surely know Those calm blue eyes are fixed upon The One who loved her so. 126 WHERE ROSES CROW Her tired feet, now tired no more, Are strolling by the river On whose soft banks the roses grow And lilies bloom forever. i-7 A LAST VISIT ^7]p;HE dear old trees are just the same ; N^> The birds — I know them all ; The warm winds leap the pine-clad hills Responsive to my call, And kiss me soft on either cheek As oft they did of yore : Alas ! no eager footsteps crowd The old familiar door. The rooms are empty — not a word Of welcome greets my ears ; Their echoes are a mockery — My eyes are filled with tears. I cannot make you seem like home : So now, old house, farewell ! Good-bye, old trees, my childhood's friends Good-bye the dear old well ! 128 MARGUERITE MARGUERITE ,ELXE Marguerite ; — the thousand nameless graces Of all the queens of beauty Since time begun — The witcheries of all the wondrous faces, And voices low and fluty — Moulded in one ! Just see her waiting there, the peerless creature ! The perfect, matchless woman ! And watch her face ; — Instinct with youth and love is every feature, And passionately human Is every grace. Could we but peer behind the filmy laces That guard the sweet enclosure Where dear Eove lies, A happy bird would smile up in our faces — No fear of cold exposure Within his eyes. No queen of hearts was ever half so gracious : The apple-blossoms tremble With sheer delight '3 1 MARGUERITE As they stoop down and kiss, with lips audacious, That exquisite cnsei?tble In pink and white. The sun's warm fingers, dallying with her tresses, Are hopelessly entangled In golden strands : Nor can he ever set, howe'er time presses, Till they are disentangled By loving hands : Then when the waves of glory round her falling Within her vestal chamber Are shut from sight, If you but listen you may hear him calling From off his bed of amber, " Sweet L,ove ! Good-night !" 132 THE LIFE-vSTREAM |^/])NE April morning, when the spring kiX Released the mountain rill, I heard the baffled winter wind Retreat along the hill. The father-sun came bending o'er, And tenderly caressed The laughing prattler, as he drew His mountain-mother's breast. The rill, when tired of revelling Among the fountains full, Ran sparkling down the velvet slope To sleep — a shady pool. But when, as morning dawned again, He peeped the margin o'er, And saw the beck'ning buttercups Fast marching on before, — He could not stay ; he turned and kissed His sleeping mother, then Stole softly 'neath the lintel green And rippled down the glen. i33 THE LIFE-STREAM As childhood, in uneasy dreams, Flies through the green aisles dim Of some old crooning forest where Lurk monsters fierce and grim, — So fled he, as the stealthy roots Of gnarled and wrinkled trees Came twisting out the loamy bank His truant foot to seize. In most fantastic windings lost, In meadows dewy sweet, To catch the jocund birds that flung Their music at his feet, — He wandered dreamily along Till day began to wane, And sighed, " Ah, me ! I ne'er shall see My mountain home again." He hurried down a rocky steep, A wild and reckless stream, And lay all quivering at its foot, At rest — perchance to dream Of that long way he needs must wend, The victories to be won, The blessings waiting at the end When all his work was done. Day after day he travelled on, — Grew broad, and deep, and strong, i34 THE LIFE-STREAM. And turned the ponderous wheels of life To rhythmic flow of song. And while in all the strife of years He aimed to bear a part, A white swan lay upon his breast, Her image in his heart. One hazy autumn afternoon The traveller neared the goal With hurried step and lab'ring breath ; He heard the thunder roll, But pressed right onward to the brink, Nor shunned the dread abyss, — His hopes all fixed on realms above, One last fond look on this. Oh ! transformation wonderful ! Above that gulf, at even. Hovered a misty form of grace, Robed in the hues of heaven ! '35 SPIRIT OF LOVE 10 fPIRlT of Love ! touch the eyes that are weeping : Sweet is her rest who is peacefully sleeping. Comfort the sorrowing : Hope never dies, Though love-light be banished from love-lighted eyes : And sometimes, in the dusk, from the far-brooding dome, Soft winds will whisper a message from home. Lover and Helper ! give them sweet home-rest : Pillow their heads on Thy great loving breast. Sorrow and Joy clasp their hands as they wander Down to the gateway that leads over yonder ; — Joy enters joyfully : Grief turns away — Her home is not there where the sun shines for aye. So these tear- troubled souls, when they come to the door, Will be transfigured, and tears fall no more. Lover and Helper ! give them sweet home-rest : Pillow their heads on Thy great loving breast. Spirit of Love ! heal these hearts that are breaking ; Fill them with Heaven, whether sleeping or waking — Joy at the noontide and Peace in the night, Sweet Hope when the morning floods life with its light : And when earth disappears, and the chamber grows dim, Take them where Love fills the soul to the brim. Lover and Helper ! give them sweet home-rest : Pillow their heads on Thy great loving breast. 136 THE MAGI AND THE STAR ;7p)HE sky was overcast, the winds were chill ; l ^ Strange lights chased shadows over vale and hill ; And Melchior, lone watcher of the night, His white beard gleaming in the fitful light, Sat silent, prayerful, in his stone-cold tower, When, lo, the black clouds parted at the hour Of midnight — and afar He saw the Star ! The sun went down in beauty, but the night Grew dark with tempest : not a ray of light Touched soothingly old Kaspar's snow-white hair The while he knelt, and watched, and waited there In his cold cave — with Faith and Hope his dower — When, lo, the blade clouds parted at the hour Of midnight — and afar He sate the Star ! Beyond the tumult of the upper Nile Balthasar walked, and dreamed of God, the while Dark storm-clouds, gathering on the mountain peaks, Gave sudden speech, as when Jehovah speaks — J 37 THE MAGI AND THE STAR The great hills echoing its wondrous power — When, lo, the black clouds parted at the hour Of midnight — and afar He saw the Star ! The sunset-hour was burning in the west : Three dusty pilgrims, sadly needing rest, Rode down the winding way to Bethlehem To find the King — the King of kings to them : And, lo, the Star which they had seen before Stood flashing: there above His stable door ! I " Hail to the King !" the happy Wise Men cried : " Hail to the King !" the door flew open wide, — And there, upon a bed of fragrant hay, The infant Jesus with sweet Mary lay, Warm wrapped within the whitest, softest fleece — The King, the Wonderful, the Prince of Peace. And the angels sang, — " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth Peace, good will to men." 138 r* iC ADOWN THE FLASHING STREAM A CHARADE O* GlylDE adown the flashing stream ©4 Serenely in my First ; I trail my lines for yellow bream, Of fish nor best nor worst ; And when I of Sahara dream, I quench my dreamy thirst. When every breezy summer dell Is full of frozen dreams, I sometimes deem it passing well To mass the sun's warm beams, — And in a corner of my cell Ah ! how my Second gleams ! The axis of the spinning earth Extends from pole to pole, And has since morning had its birth ; Withdraw it, and a hole Of might}- length and breadth and girth Will need my strengthening Whole. 141 SONG OF THE SUMMER WIND /nil' 'LL hie away from my native shade, (s°£ Over the mountain and through the glade, Rustling the leaves with my feathery tread, And breathing perfume o'er the violets' bed, — Ha, ha ! away, away ! I '11 ruffle the face of the crystal lake, And laugh at the eddies my pinions make ; I '11 perch my foot on the swallow's wing, And, sailing along, will gaily sing, — Ha, ha ! away, away ! I '11 climb the hill on its ladder of trees, With a tip of my cap to the lumbering bees, While the golden grain, as I pass along, Will bend to list to my morning song, — Ha, ha ! away, away ! I '11 fan the cheek and the burning brow Of one dearly loved, but dying now, And waft her gentle spirit home To a land of rest, no more to roam, — Far, far away, away ! 142 SONG OF THE SUMMER WIND I '11 away with the heart of the barefoot boy, The king of the brook and the minnows coy ; I '11 kiss the lips of the laughing girls — Play hide-and-seek in their tumbled curls, — Ha, ha ! away, away ! And then how cheerily upward I '11 fly To sweep the clouds from the summer sky, And bid the moon, in the stilly night, Bless loving hearts with her tender light, — Ha, ha ! away, away ! ■43 SONG Dewdrop. — " I 'M a little Dewdrop, Round and bright and clear, Born among the shadows : Morning found me here Lying on a rose-leaf, Dreaming of the star That came from heaven to kiss me — Came, oh ! so very far ! As for life, 'twill be scarcely a minute : The naughty sun drinks us all up ! Before we can fairly begin it, He gathers us into his cup ! Ah me ! all our brightness he drinks from his cup Fairy. — " I 'm a little Fairy, Diving in a dell, Dight of foot, and airy, Beautiful as well ; But when I am sixteen I '11 be a fairy belle : Then who will want to kiss me ? Can anybody tell ? But list to those sweet bells a minute (!!!) The fairies in Elf-land at play ! I hear their clear .songs from the spinet — A signal to hasten away : Good-bye ! all we fairies must vanish away ! ' ' 144 THE SUNSET BRIDGE S$ BREEZY upland, where the winds of all the sweet Septembers Had stayed their velvet-sandalled feet for rest, To watch the sunset fires grow brighter from the latent embers Their wings had fanned and fashioned in the west To molten towers and turrets ;— surely every one remem- bers The sunset city that he loved the best, And hopes sometime to be its humble guest. A lone old man, a sad and trembling pilgrim, bent and hoary, A worn-out relic of the vanished years, The last of a long line of sturdy yeomen, whose quaint story Would weight the listening eyes with listening tears, Toiled slowly tip the beaten pathway, till the sunset glory Broke full upon his vision, and his fears Gave place to music strange to mortal ears. He looked beyond the valley and the river— heard the singing ; L,oved voices silenced long ago were there. 147 THE SUNSET BRIDGE He saw the silver bells of heaven swinging — heard them ringing ; Their music melted on the vibrant air. He saw the blessed angels beek'ning to him — saw them bringing The golden wire, and weaving it with care. At last the bridge was finished, staunch and fair. And while the soft, sweet winds were o'er the sleepy upland blowing, The dear Lord sent angelic hands to guide The timid, footsore pilgrim to the home where he was going, Dry shod, across the cold, dark, silent tide. To-day I see the ghostly waters, bridgeless, ever flowing Between us and the near-far other side — Unlike the evening when the old man died. FOR A BIRTHDAY CALENDAR fjlHE way is long, O Friends ! %p> But it is sweet, so sweet, To wander hand in hand Where overhead the swaying branches meet, And birds sing joyous songs, by soft winds fanned, And velvet grasses kiss your wayworn feet ; For just beyond you, where the river bends, You '11 find the summer-time that never ends. 149 FACES FROM WONDERLAND 11 V/tHEN Rip and Schneider left the cottage door, Jj^ The night was gruesome, and its stormy wrath Was pitiless : the twain came back no more. The>- turned their footsteps to the mountain path Their feet had trodden many a sunny day, To find it black with darkness, — every gnome A lightning-lighted fiend, that led the way To dreamless slumber — ne'er to dreams of home. So in this Wonderland : I sometimes think These Tritons once were driven from their homes (By some tempestuous Gretchen) when in drink, And, guided hither by the wily gnomes, Were put to sleep — a stony, dreamless sleep — A sleep that knows no waking : and we see Their sightless eyeballs gazing o'er the deep — Unconscious watchers of the restless sea. Take not thy way along this tragic shore When Night's bat wings enwrap thee, fold on fold, For should these sleepers rouse themselves once more, The world would say, — This man was overbold ! 15° "A stony, dreamless sleep" — O THE CHILDREN in HE children— O the children !— fe l^ How dark the world and gloomy, How wide and cold and roomy, To the mother's loving heart, Did not the breezes waft her The songs and merry laughter Of the blessed, blessed children ! The children— O the children ! — How the sun would pale his glory, And the beautiful in story Die out of all the lands, Could they not hear us calling, When the twilight dews are falling, Come home, come home, O children ! The children — O the children ! — Very sweet the sacred pages, Floating down through all the ages, Telling of the Christ-child born Where the mild-eyed oxen ponder, With a sort of wistful wonder, O'er the Prince of all the children ! i53 O THE CHILDREN The children — O the children ! — See them blood-red roses strowing In the path where Christ is going To Jerusalem the doomed : See them wave their cool green banners Hear them shout their glad hosannas To the Saviour of the children ! '54 A TWISTED THING 0*N a whimsical curve of the grass-grown road, (s°f Just over beyond the spruces, Lies a moss-embroidered watering-trough, Brimful of the limpid juices Distilled from the heart of the hill above By the gnomes that toil thereunder : I can hear the rush of their elfin feet, And their echo-gnome-ic thunder. This watering-trough is the quaintest thing ! 'T was carved with an axe or hatchet In the crudest way, with the rudest blows — I doubt if the world can match it. The tooth of time, or the axe, has made A notch in the farther corner, Where many a barefoot girl has drank, And many a Jack)- Horner. The dear old log is a twisted thing — But it holds the sweetest water That ever was drank by beast or bird, Or quaffed by son or daughter : And yesterday, after forty years, I searched until I found it — *55 A TWISTED THING A doubtful chance, for the grasses' arms Were lovingly clasped around it. A face looked up from the mimic sea — Alas ! 'twas not the old one ! But the yellow frog at the farther end Was the very same old bold one, — A pop-eyed fiend, who never winked When I bent to quaff the nectar ; — If it wasn't that same old " crazy quilt," It must have been his spectre. And Nell, O Nell, do you mind the day You knelt down close beside me — I never shall forget it, sweet, Whatever may betide me — And we bent above this tell-tale cup, Reflecting untold blisses, And saw two faces looking up, And kisses chasing kisses ? A brown-faced, blue-eyed, barefoot girl — The angels — how they love her ! A barefoot boy with bleeding feet, Her constant, gray-haired lover — Will search the paths of heaven some day For such a nook as this is, And find, perchance, this very pool, With all its wealth of kisses. 156 BFUE KYI'S \LUK eves, laughing merrily ! > Why so sparkling ? Verily, Two quivers full of bristling arrows art thou, Waiting for thy bow ; — For thy bow hath many strings, And the arrows that it flings At random, lay some palpitating heart, now, Bleeding, thou must know, Laughing blue eyes ! Chaffing blue eyes ! At thy shoe-tips low. Blue eyes ! tender, dutiful, Full of love-light, beautiful, Why dost thou ever wave thy long brown lashes- Wave them in my face ? For they reach me in my dreams, Interlaced with sunny gleams From the queenly sold that seems Forever weaving round me love's light meshes — Captive to thy grace, Truest blue eyes ! Bluest blue eyes ! Fairest of thv race ! *57 BLUE EYES Blue eyes ! once so cheerfully, Now, alas ! so tearfully Beyond thy narrow prison barriers peering, Iyonging for one word, — Come I whence the cannons' boom Told of many a hero's tomb By Chicamauga's crimson tide appearing : Deeply thou wert stirred, Tearful blue eyes ! Fearful blue eyes ! Trembling like a bird ! Blue eyes ! greet me cheerily, Coming back so wearily, Thy love-light ever on my proud heart beaming As stars beam on the sea : Nestle closely to my breast, While I gaze, supremely blest, Down thy crystal depths in quest Of love's young dream — for surely thou art dreaming ! Dreaming, too, of me — Mistful blue eyes ! Wistful blue eyes ! Sweet as sweet can be ! 158 BRIGHT PASSACONAWAY P raIKE some fair castle on the Rhine, ^f> Or Lurlei of the rock, That overlooks the fields of wine, The shepherd's homely flock, You stand, bright Passaconaway ! Upon the cliffs of York. We hear the wind about your eaves Blow inward from the sea ; Sometimes a sea-sad tale it weaves, A song without a key, — But still, bright Passaconaway ! It wrings no tears from thee. When past the Nubble's jagged nose Sweeps Equinoctial thunder, And some great vessel, plunging, goes The seething waters under, You gaze, calm Passaconaway ! With eyes brimful of wonder. You stand serene upon the heights Where night's soft winds are blowing 161 BRIGHT PASS A CON A WA Y Your flashing eyes, your hundred lights, A burning beacon glowing, Invite us, Passaeonaway ! To where good cheer is flowing:. 162 HElvENE gXj jhNDER that snow-white sheet she lies — * 7 - Helene my beautiful ! Helene my true ! Softly the morning breaks over the skies, Softly regretful stars kiss her Adieu ; — L,ies she there seeming So blissfully dreaming, — Fragrant her ripe lips as breath of the morn, — No one shall lisp her Name even in whisper : She 's roaming where fairy-land fancies are born ! Clustering clouds of dark, passionate hair Frown back the curious beams of the sun : Hidden but meagrely, shapely and rare, Round, white, soft mysteries wait to be won ; — Seemingly bolder, One Parian shoulder, Purity's self, dims the pillow below — While, thrown above her Head (who could but love her !) A round arm lies white as the shimmering snow ! Parting as clouds part when summer winds blow, Heavenly wonders unveiling above, — 161 HELENE So part the gauze-clouds, revealiug below Opaline mountains in gardens of love ; — Soft undulations, Like music's vibrations Coursing light-footed the silvery strings, Seem like the ocean In jubilant motion, Rocking its burden of beautiful things ! Waking as wake the young birds in their nests, Baby Nell opens her wondering eyes — Climbs where the lush mountains bear on their crests Strawberries ripe as the ruddiest skies ; — There, among treasures In bountiful measures, Roguish-eyed, cherry-lipped, pink-footed Nell Drinks from a chalice The king in his palace Might barter his crown for, and barter it well ! 164 THE REAPER M*T was so warm that summer day ! (5t Yet the hill winds would play with the bearded grasses, And with miserly glee toss the gleaming masses Of billowy grain, in the sun's broad splendor, Or touch them with kisses soft and tender, — While over the drowsy lea Came the Reaper's .song, like a dirge of doom, Mantling the bended heads with gloom As it swept o'er the rippling sea ; — And the Reaper's eyes were dim, For at every swing of his circling blade, The pitying air bore off to the glade A bar of his cradle hymn : " In spring we sow — in autumn reap — 'Tis time for song — no time to weep — vSleep, my beloved ! — sleep — sleep — sleep !" And the watchful grasses whispered, " Sleep !" So when on fields of strife pursuing Night Hurls down the west the blood-red orb of light, A thousand forms, late sweeping o'er the plain Where gleaming sickles shook the crimson rain, 16.S THE REAPER Lie scattered, like the tempest-riven leaves — Columbia's martyrs, Liberty's dear sheaves : And while in silent chambers calm they rest, A grateful country folds them to her breast. From yonder hillside, where the trees Keep watch above the voiceless village, And chant their morning melodies O'er homes no vandal hand may pillage, A hundred sheaves will spring to heaven's wide dome When the Great Reaper shouts his Harvest Home ! 1 66 "A boy who gives no quarter (but takes one when he can!)' THE VERY BIGGEST BOY d ? I ' < 1 | \ *'** ASIvKEP sTjEAR tired Mother Earth has gone to sleep : >>y5) Walk tiptoe through her chamber lest she waken Her children faithful watch above her keep, While she with slumber sweet is overtaken. Not long ago a thousand tender ferns Spread over her their wealth of dew-spun laces, And nestled close to her warm heart, where burns The fire that kindles Spring-time's sylvan graces. And when the blessed Mother longed for rest, How soothingly the little slender grasses Threw all their soft green arms across her breast : No wintry blast shall touch her as it passes ! ASLEEP The maples watched her with a beaming smile When proud October covered them with glory, And gladly doffed their royal robes, the while With them they made her bed — the old sweet story And yesterday all day the longing sky Bent lovingly and wistfully above her, While soft white kisses — oh, so tenderly ! With sweet insistance placed her under cover. 190 UNDER THE OLD ELM ^?ND this is June : — these overhanging boughs Invite us — nay, entice us — to a rest Upon this soft, green, fragrant mother-breast, Where we may watch the sweet home-coming cows Wind down the hill, and listen to the vows We have no right to hear from that small nest That swings above us, while the waning west Breathes benedictions on our throbbing brows. Here we will dream the twilight hours away Beneath this ample firmament of leaves, And listen to the whirr of unseen wings Within the shadows, while the soft airs play The songs our mother sung, that time nor thieves Can filch from mem'ry's storehouse — Hark ! she sings ! i 9 i SPRING IS COMING |Q5;NOW in the meadow and snow on the hill ; Gfs Snow in the woodlands, deep, breathless, and still ; Snow on the pond and the iee-covered brook, And all the world over, wherever we look ; — But voices are calling from over the ridge — Let us hasten away across valley and bridge, And find what 's in store for our ears and our eyes, On the hills, in the woods, ere the glory-light dies. Were ever the steps of the west winds so fleet ? Were ever soft winds from the far-lands so sweet ? Just list to the stories they bring from Lahore, Japan, and the islands they '11 visit no more — No more till they circle the earth on the wing, And come again, o'er the same path, with the Spring : vSoft measures they sing, and the whispering pines Repeat to our ears their melodious lines. But, hark ! on the hill over there in the west I hear the hoarse caw of the crows : 't is the best The black fellows can do to express their delight, For they never could sing much : black cannot be white ! 192 SPRING IS COMING And just now, in that old hollow tree on ahead, A drowsy red squirrel turned over in bed, And, yawning, said, " Mother, wake up in a wink ! For the beautiful Spring-time is coming, I think." And if we stand still where the snow is not deep, We shall feel the warm ground where the daffodils sleep Just trembling and aching to open the door And let the imprisoned ones leap to the fore : And all the small people that live in the ground Have slept their bright eyes out, and long for the sound Of the feet of the Spring, as she comes o'er the hills To touch the spring-locks and unfetter the rills. Did you see me just now put my ear to the bark Of that great maple tree ?— Well, inside, in the dark, You can hear, step by step, up the ladder, the floods Of sweet juices climb sturdily up to the buds : And — oh, marvel of Spring-time ! oh, marvel of birth ! — Every wonderful germ in the womb of the earth Springs to light, clothed in beauty and gladness, to sing With ineffable joy the swift coming of Spring. !93 THE SPINNING-WHEEL AT REST THE DAY'S WORK DONE ■rf^OjbL,!, day we heard it humming (ajf* L,ike softly falling snow, And busy feet were coming, Going, to and fro, One hand upon the whirling wheel, One playing with the whirring steel. All day we heard it spinning : Its song of love and cheer Was sweet from the beginning : But listen ! you shall hear Another voice, as clear and low As songs from roses when they blow. All day the sweet-voiced spinner And her wheel sing soft and low : Warm love-light burns within her — Her cheeks like roses glow : The tea-kettle takes up the song, And shakes his cap with laughter long. 194 NOTES 1 The Old Stone Bridge— Page 23— A bridge over the picturesque Ash- uelot River, in the town of Gilsum, N. H. -The Return — Page 41 — In the early years of the Rebellion, enlistments for the Union army were usually made for "three years." '■'Speed the Going— Welcome the Coming— Page 51— During the years immediately succeeding the Rebellion — "the reconstruction period" — the newspapers of the South were full of (perhaps pardonable) bitterness; and the "broken words" of the dying year were but echoes from their editorial and news columns. 4 A Portrait from the Sea— Page 76— An exact reproduction of a pebble found by the author among hundreds of tons of variegated stones on Pebbly Beach, York, Me. 6 Anniversary Poem — Page 101 — Read at the celebration of the seventy- fifth anniversary of Thetford (Vt.) Academy, June 28, 1894. "Page 106 — Hiram Orcutt, LL. D., principal of the academy from 1843 to 1856. He was present on this occasion, at the age of eighty, in good health, and made an entertaining after-dinner speech at the banquet. "'Tit'o Apples— Page it i — The illustrations of this poem are used by the kind permission — "Eve," of the Berlin Photographic Co., of New York, and "Tell," of E. C. Allen & Co., of Augusta, Me. *A Hundred Years Ago — Page 119 — Written for the Centennial Anni- versary of the Congregational Church, in Newport, N. H., Oct. 28, 1879. "Page 119 — In June, 1766, eight young men, five having families, arrived in Newport for permanent settlement. The next morn- ing (Sunday) they met under a pine tree for worship. Since that day the Congregationalists have never permitted a Sunday to pass without public religious services. '95 A T OTES w Spiiit of Love — Page 136 — This hymn is adapted to the tune "Fad- ing, still fading" — which will explain certain peculiarities of metrical construction. 11 Faces front Wonderland — Page 150 — All these faces are exact photo- graphic reproductions of actual rocks on the magnificent coast of York Beach, Me., and all within a few minutes' walk of each other. And there are others. It is indeed a Wonderland for those who have " eyes to see." 12 The River Beautiful — Page 175 — "Sugar River," at Newport, N. H., the exquisite stream that leads the waters of Sunapee I y ake to the Connecticut, a distance of twenty miles ; — so called by the early settlers because of the great maple forests on its tribu- tary hills. i3 T/ie Joy-Bells Ring — Page 185— Mr. and Mrs. William E. Stevens, of Portland, Me. — long residents of Concord, N. H. 196 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 018 597 789 4 •