SUE L. JAMES ^^ssj^g ^■l Bonk .J ?^' ' , / LOG CABIN RHYMES LOG CABIN RHYMES BY MRS. SUE L. JAMES ^ PUBLISHED PRIVATELY t FOREWORD If some truant southern breeze should waft this little waif to your desk, treat it kindly. It has a message of love for you, and its motto is the Golden Rule. The early years of the writer were spent upon a modest plantation within the deep for- ests of Arkansas, where the only school avail- able was that of Nature. Her daily compan- ions were the many members of her family, who were never happier than when permitted to follow her through the neighboring dells to gather the wild flowers that so abundantly grew there, or to sit on the margin of a rip- pling brook, meandering its course to the wait- ing river — or, later, to watch the stars weave silver gowns for the peaceful lake upon whose breast the lilies had been rocked to sleep. Over this little family of Nature-lovers the tall trees — like tired sentinels — stood constant guard. vi Foreword These same spreading trees still shelter visitors to that woodland community and stand stur- dily erect despite the ravages of southern storms and dethroning winds. That some tired heart might here find pana- cea for the storms of Life is the writer's in- centive in sending out this little book of verse. CONTENTS PAGEI MY BARQUE I TAKE ME HOME 2 MY OLE MASTAH 4 SHOW ME THY WAY 7 TOMORROW 9 ALONE WITH DEITY 10 ONLY A LOCK OF HAIR 13 LIFE 15 LOOKING ON THE HILLS AT HOT SPRINGS . 1 7 SATURDAY NIGHT . , . . . -19 CHRISTMASTIDE 21 FATHER 23 MAY AND I 25 grandmother's ROOM 26 SOUTHLAND WINDS 28 MY TASK 30 " JOHNNIE, don't STAY OUT LATE " . -32 " BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART " . -35 PRUE • 37 IN PASTURES GREEN 4O viii Contents PAGE MY PLEA 42 LITTLE MARGARET 44 UNDER THE SHADOW OF A DYING YEAR , . 47 THE SOLDIER BOY 49 SANTA CLAUS 5 1 A LOW WHITE COT IN ARKANSAW ... 54 MOTHER 56 MY LITTLE SOUTHERN BELLE .... 58 IN MEMORIAM 61 THROUGH THE MIST 65 MY TEARS 68 TO A NAMELESS ROUGH RIDER WHO FELL AT THE BATTLE OF SANTIAGO . . . . 70 BABE OF BETHLEHEM . . . . -75 A SHATTERED IDEAL 8 1 MY CHILDHOOD HOME 84 THE OLD-FASHIONED CHURCH .... 86 BYGONES 90 LITTLE ROSE 92 LOVE, TO YOU 93 HE KNOWS 94 YOU . .96 MY BARQUE Out on the waves of the river of time My barque sails joyously today; My song is a song of love divine, And loved ones singing away. No clouds drift o'er my craft's blue sky, No winds blow shrill from hills of snow, No storm turns the barque, though waves plough high, The sailing is smooth in Love's soft glow. For my barque is manned by the oar of Love, The sea is stilled by the calm of Hope, While steering the helm God's hand above, And guiding the prow Faith's telescope. Sail on, O barque, for the river is long, But the landing soon will come in sight, Where a Soul ship, anchored, is waiting — strong With Love's supernal light. TAKE ME HOME Take me where the HHes bloom In my sunny Southland free, Where daisies nod their snowy heads, Whene'er I pass, in courtesy, And zephyrs soft so gently blow On desert fair and fragrant lea : I hear them calling now^ to me. Let me tread her vernal paths, Bowered cool in shady groves. Stretching far to rivers free, Nourishing the secret coves Along whose mossy margin straying. Browsing herds, to quench their thirst, Coming to their kine, delaying Till the sunbeams had dispersed. Into the dear old homestead there I would today intrude again, And pluck the roses stealing fair Within my latticed window pane. Take Me Home 3 I'd rest me in the old armchair To watch the sunset's after-glow, And dream that all the world was fair, As I dreamed it long ago. The little room I called my own, Where oft I knelt at mother's feet To ask forgiveness for my sin And gaze into her dear eyes sweet. Is now defaced with dust, and worn, And only spectral shadows fleet With dying twilight, trembling borne, My longing eyes regretful greet. Dear faces gone I see them still. The raven locks and silvered hair, Kind hands, crossed in death's arms chill, That oft were lifted there in prayer. Though hushed, their voices ever there. From God's Celestial sun-kissed shore, I hear them calling me up there, Where life is love for evermore. MY OLE MASTAH Song De blue bird an' de robin, de red bird an' de wren, Am a-singin', an' a-singin', in de glade an' in de glen; De bees dey am a-hummin' 'bout de lily an' de rose, While I's musin', an' a-rockin', while de evenin' shadder grows. Chorus O, de days dey am a-comin' when I'll nevah wo'k no mo', Den I'll res' me on de hilltop by de side of Mastah Joe; Dah I'll sleep till resurectum when ole Gabel blows his hawn, Sho I'll be de first to meet 'im, my old mastah, on dat mawn. 4 My Ole Mast ah S I's a-gittin' ole an' feeble, an' my wo'k is almost o'er, De rumatiz it ketched me 'bout de hip in ninety- fo' ; I's only strenk ter hobble 'round erbout mah cabin do', — Sho I's monst'ous good fer nothin' 'pared to what I wuz befo'. Las' night I see ole mastah, — when de sun drap down de hill An' de birds had stopped der hummin', an' ole nature stood stock still, — Reckon, lak he uster, dreamin' of ole miss his pa'tnah fair; Seemed somehow she wuz beside 'im, in huh same ole willow chair. Den's de times I feel mos' lonesome, kaze o\' mastah lay so still, 'Neath de shadow, an' de darkness, on de side of yonder hill, 6 My Ole Mastah With de birds to sing his requim, as de stars look sadly down, Yet I feel de light of heaven shine in pity all eround. SHOW ME THY WAY When life grows sad and I'm depressed, And sigh for peace and rest, sweet rest. If gather clouds I know not why, I'm prompted still to upward cry : " Show me Thy way." If shadows fall where sunshine fell, 'Tis God's own will, I know full well. When grope I through the darkest hour I'll pray to Him who hath the power : " Show me Thy way." When bowed with grief for others' woe, And bitter tears for others flow ; E'en though His path I scarce can see, To Him I'll cry with sanctity : " Show me Thy way." If hours drag and days be long, With hope deferred and faith not strong ; Still, tremblingly, I'll turn my face To Him and ask, with given grace : " Show me Thy way." 7 Show Me Thy Way If friendship's gold turns into dross, I firmer grasp the crimson cross ; If love grows cold and earth seems dark, I cry with faith's redeeming spark : " Show me Thy way." Christ is the way — Ah ! God knows best, His paths all lead to love and rest ; O, at the last, I'll trustful cry, My work is done. Here let me lie — " I've found the way!" TOMORROW Storm and clouds come on apace, As through the world we swiftly go; But back of them a Father's face In mercy shines on us below. Into each life some rain must fall, Else flowers that bloom would cease to blow, So, oft, our hopes dark shadows pall, That Faith's sweet blossoms brighter grow. ALONE WITH DEITY Alone with Christ, alone with God, Whose word is as the Hghtning rod That flashes from yon mystic height, All spheres of earth to brilliant light. Alone with Deity, who hath power To calm the wave in turbulent hour, To send vast darkness onto earth. Herald fair Aurora's birth, Through aerial plains to safely steer The eagle in his wild career. Alone with Him who holds the dew Within His hand, to sparkle through, To cool the thirsty way-worn flower That brightens life through summer hour, Who sends the rain to field and plain, That they may yield ppportioned grain. 10 Alone With Deity ii Alone with mystic spirits fair, That throng the compliant evening air, And speak to me from unseen sphere With voice that thrills me strangely here, As I alone with Deity stand, And peer in vain for spirit land. Alone with One who curbs the sun, Guides the planets one by one, Who speeds the moon through darkest night. And bids the stars reflect His light, Directs the thunder rumbling loud, Beholds the bursting of the cloud. Alone with Him — ah, well I know, Where'er I stray, where'er I go, He will be near me night and day. To guide me safe through all the way, Strengthening me when I am worn. Tempering winds when I am shorn. 12 Alone With Deity Alone with Christ, alone with God, Passing 'neath the lowering rod, Walking through the deep red sea, Whose waves roll high and sullenly. But with my Christ and with my God I'll cross the sea, and pass the rod. ONLY A LOCK OF HAIR Only a lock of hair Tied with ribbon white, But oh, what mem'ries sweet They bring to me to-night ! A childish face I see, In happy days gone by, Bright eyes looked love at me, Tenderly, trustingly. Fair and pure as snow. This treasure of my life — Dispensing love and peace Where all before was strife. To-night I view the vanished years That quickly passed away, And, in her room, my little girl — With her doll — at play. 13 14 Only a Lock of Hair The golden sun athwart her curls, Kissing her cheeks of pink — An angel robed in white, she seemed, 'Twas ominous, I think. I watched, in fear and love, The little darling grow To womanhood, and strove Not to love her so. With years she fairer grew In character and mind, v To friends so sweet and true. In spirit soft and kind. But angels, one bright mom, Opened Heaven's door. And bore my darling far away To Leal's distant shore. Only this lock of hair Tied with ribbon white, And memories sweet of her. Are all I have to-night. LIFE Oh, the constant anxious longing For the life that is to be, And the daily, hourly passing Of this frail mortality. Oh, the weary wait and watching Through the years of destiny, And the longing, praying, wishing. For the joys of yesterday. Oh, the toil and busy working Of the tired hands and feet. While the heart and soul are rising Up to God, with love replete. Ah, the longing will be ended. And the watching days complete, When the weary soul's ascendeci To the Saviour's bleeding feet. 15 1 6 Life There 'tis rest and peace forever, 'Neath the Father's gentle eyes ; There 'tis June on life's fair river, — Love through ages never dies. LOOKING ON THE HILLS AT HOT SPRINGS How calm and still the far-off hills Today look in their misty shroud, Beneath the low, blue-tinted sky, Thin veiled with floating cloud. Soft sunlights fall upon their brow, Glancing down each rugged side, Lighting up sequestered glades. Gleaming o'er the lowly tide. No blooming flower, nor song of bird. Is seen or heard around today, For winter clothes each favored haunt In robes of marked decay. Hard by the hills where marble slabs Gleam o'er their lowly, silent bed, Our heart lies buried with the forms Of early loves, now dead. 17 Looking on the Hills at Hot Springs This life for us no more shall bring Its summer flowers, all fair and bright, No more its sweet and vernal spring Shall cheer life's wintry night. But, yonder, we shall look for rest, And hope confirmed, and love, Such as are kindled in the breast Of angels up above. SATURDAY NIGHT 'Tis Saturday night, the wick burns low. The cricket's chirrup is heard no more, And save the clock all else is still ; The damp air falls around me chill. The hours are heavier growing now, And pain throbs faster in my brow. But sew I must my darlings' clothes, As childhood's sleep their eyelids close. What matter that my limbs are worn With sickness, care, and years forlorn ! Once I was young, and gay, and free. And mother's troubles could not see. Ah, well, I'm glad they cannot see The weariness they bring to me; For clouds would then exclude the sun From their young lives now just begun, And their bright eyes and beaming smile No more would my own cares beguile. 19 20 Saturday Night Sleep on, my darlings ; may you be From care and sorrow ever free. For each of you may years prove fair, May sickness be not of your share. And may you each when life is done Find rest in God's immortal home. CHRISTMASTIDE 'Tis night. The ghttering stars look down. The moon upon her throne, in silver gown, Directs her subjects. With her crown Sweet Venus smiles approval down, ' And all the planets— all the stars — Shout " Peace on Earth ! " through glittering bars. The rocks, the hills, the vales, the dell, Clothed in snowy whiteness, tell A story of the Son of God, When through their chequered path He trod. The widow in her lowly cot And orphan He has ne'er forgot. To fill their cruse and point the way To life eternal's golden day. He soothes the sorrowing heart with love, In memory of His own above. He wipes all tears from weeping eyes. And loves with men to sympathize. 22 Christmastide He sends forth messengers of peace — To prisoners. He would all release From sin and burdens hard to bear, And win their souls from cold despair. Blessed night, when angels sang " * Christ is Born ! " O'er earth it rang, Startling heads of nations great. Disrupting orthodoxy's state. In rural districts, weak and poor. Today His angels guard the door, For those oppressed by those who grind, For greed the hearts of humankind. His light grows brighter every day. And there's no path He does not stray. His blessings are upon all earth Today — ^this man of heavenly birth. FATHER Through darkening clouds, descending low, Let some sweet ray of light descend, To lead me, as through earth I go. Up life's steep hill unto the end. Life's wormwood and its gall are tasted here. Its bitter dregs retained — my heart the while. With trembling hope and weakened faith, doth fear A Father's anger for His erring child. But with new hope I'll gaze beyond this sea, To lands of rest for which I constant pine. And where my dear ones sweetly beckon me To realms of love and peace divine. Oh, when I look unto that blissful clime I lose all sight of pain and earthly care ; With faith I clasp the Saviour's hand in mine, And walk with Him in His own garden fair. 23 24 Father Fain would I lay life's burdens down, And seek the rest there promised me. But where there's no cross there's no crown, To God's one will resigned I'll be. And when life's span is sunder'd here. And death's release shall come; By Thee and loved ones waiting there May I be welcomed home. MAY AND I The morning's fine, the morning's fine, We have exuberant weather. Blossoms hang from the glory vine, Roses and violets dwell together, As May and I stroll the heather. Flecked with a golden shine. The morning's fair, the morning's fair, The skies are amber-tinted, Delicious fragrance scents the air, With blue-gold streams a-glint on high, My love for May will never die, — Ah, truly we're a happy pair ! The morning's sweet, the morning's sweet. The hamlet wild-rose scented, A paradise of blooms complete, A tryst for hearts love-blended. Here May and I sit blest, contented, Mirroring our love in Love's eyes sweet. 25 GRANDMOTHER'S ROOM Sweet-scented roses that bloom at my door, And zephyrs rich freighted from neighboring moor; The carol of birds in upland and lea, And robins that sleep in the old apple tree, Where blossoms play freaks, by the moon's soft light, Wake mem'ries that long have been sleeping tonight. The low flax wheel that silently stands, Once turned with a whirl by grandmother's hands, Has prints of old age on its axle now dull. Since she turned it 'round 'tis forty years full. Sh ! Soothing the sound I seem to hear still As the pedal she worked the spindle to fill. The quaint old room where grandmother sat Had neither a mirror, a carpet, nor mat. But the old plank floor was spotlessly clean; No tracks of mud were allowed, I ween. 26 Grandmother's Room 27 Her high oak chair, now covered with grime, Had never a cushion, nor was it carved fine. Ingeniously made with rude spHnts wide, And smooth great arms going straight from the side. Indeed, that old chair of grandmother dear Plainly showed marks of threescore year. Though empty it stands, discarded and old, 'Tis worth its own weight in silver and gold. 'Round it cling fancies, tender and true, With scenes that will last a lifetime through. The dear old face with sorrowful trace, I see again, with a frill of white lace. Her voice again I hear in the gloaming As when, but a boy, the lane I went roaming. This quaint old room, with vine-clad door, How I love, with memory, to explore ! SOUTHLAND WINDS From sunny Southland's mystic bower. Dear winds, they come in happy tune, Laden with the breath of June And many a woodland flower. They roam along the dusty main, Nestle at the hawthorn's feet. Whirl the leaves in monster droves. And plough the dusty street. They scatter far the darkening cloud, And sway the forest's leafy tree, Lure the dells from winter's shroud. To welcome June's sweet jollity. They sing of childhood's happy home, Of roses blooming 'round the door. And dew-pearled rugs, fair Nature's own, Upon the plastic emerald floor. 28 Southland Winds 29 But sweeter than the songs they sing, Is one of a maid with starry eye, Upon whose hand love placed a ring Beneath June's deep and radiant sky. MY TASK I DO not know which path Thou'dst have me go, That Thy spirit will lead me right, I know ; If only I ask, desiring it shall be so. It's Fate or Luck, some men would say. I've no faith in such ; I ardent pray For faith to help me through each day. I look upon each task God giveth me With assurance that 'tis best to be Tried in storm than on a peaceful sea. Though sorrow, storm, and grief I ofttimes meet, I falter not, nor fear to brave retreat, For well I know His grace is kind and sweet. If loneliness or grief disturbs my heart, I ask that more love He impart, Who has a balm for every wound and smart. 30 My Task 31 Each day I work with strength renewed, Trusting in His glorious plenitude. In joy or pain giving gratitude. JOHNNIE, DON'T STAY OUT LATE" Far away to happy childhood Mem'ry takes me back again; To my dear old country homestead Close beside the shaded lane, Where the birds in happy numbers Sang at eve their sweet refrain. Where the yellow cowslip nodded Gently to the moon and stars, While the cattle homeward plodded And the milkmaid slipped the bars, As she called to " Pink " and " Daisy," Gazing now and then at " Mars," Hear the bleating lambs in concert As they gambol on the green, Like so many little children, Many a time, there I have seen, Playing " Hide, go seek " till shadows Hid from sight the merry scene. 32 " Johnnie, Don't Stay Out Late " 33 Lazy brooklets hard-by wandered Through the restful dappled green, Dancing onward till the sun-beads Twinkled in the shifting sheen. Barefoot, here I often waded, Or minnows gathered times atween. Or longing, homeward turned my footstep, When the chill of evening fell, To feast upon the golden apples. Or peanuts hoarded in the shell; Then to milk and bread and butter. And soon to dream and sleep I fell. With mem'ry sweeter still, I enter Mother's room I love so dear. See her sitting in her rocker. With the firelight falling near; Hear her greet me once more kindly, " I am waiting for you, dear." 34 " Johnnie, Don't Stay Out Late " Long ago she went to Heaven, But comes at evening hour to wait ; In the vestibule with Willie, She walks toward the jeweled gate. Calling, as she used to, " Johnnie, Please, my boy, don't stay out late." " BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART " O Nature all sublime dost thou appear To the pure in heart, God is so near, This secret hid from sinful eyes Sheds radiance on both earth and skies. Each mountain peak and lofty height, That bathes its head in morning light. Smiles back on us in joyful rays To fill our soul with blissful praise. Old Ocean with his dashing spray Mirrors His face both night and day. And all the sky, with orbs of light, Tells of His glory and His might. Each leaflet with its tinges rare Shows touches of His finger there, And in each vernal bed of grass He smiles in love whene'er we pass. 35 36 " Blessed Are the Pure in Heart" The naked trees like monarchs stand Dethroned of glory by His hand. Their limbs, like specters, to and fro Sway sadly in their silent woe. The wailing of the winds they tell, How the leaves turned brown and fell ; E'en here our hearts in gladness ring; The verdure will return next spring. H All these beauties with one voice Tell us " God reigns, let earth rejoice." The sun, the moon, the stars that rise, These are God's footprints in the skies, All trees and flowers that we behold New lessons to our hearts unfold. Happy the heart that thus sees God, Accepts His will 'neath smile or rod. PRUE Birds sing gay, And zephyrs play, Around a rural cottage low. Roses sleep ■■ And ivies creep As in a summer long ago. Down the lane herds slowly came, Lowing for their bleating kine ; At the bars Caught from the stars, Prue's amber locks a-silver shine. Kissed by the air, Her cheeks, rose fair, Prue, now and then, with happy coo Called Freck and Pink, Who lagged to drink While evening shadows grew. 37 38 Pnie With quickening pace And happy face, Came their path a youth along, He was thinking, Eyes a-bhnking, That to him Prue soon would belong. Above the bars Smiled the stars, As Jim came up with Freck and Pink ; Caught Prue fair, Kissed her square, Ere she could move — or clearly think. "Jim, take that!" Prue hit him pat, As rippling flowed her merry laugh. Jim understood Her playful mood And coolly roped the truant calf. Prue 39 That's long ago. And winter's snow Has ofttimes fall'n upon the spot Where Prue's least whim Was law to Jim, And love played in their every plot. Now Jim is gray And Prue's away, Sleeping where the lilies blow ; Naught makes glad Jim's life so sad, And where Prue's gone Jim prays to go. IN PASTURES GREEN Touch Thou my lips with fire divine, Let my soul Thy love define. Keep Thou my feet from falHng low, Guide them where Thou would'st have them go. Lead Thou in pastures green the way That nearest leads to Thee today, Till mounts my soul, on eagle wings, To view Thee and celestial things. Illuminate my life within, Cleanse it from individual sin, Encompass every path I tread. Let Thy Manna be my bread. If care, or pain, or rain or shine Impede my way, " Thy will be mine." Beyond them all I see a trace Of sunshine in my Father's face. 40 In Pastures Green 41 Let Thou my task be finished well, That I at last may with Thee dwell, And, kneeling by my Master, lay Some trophies gathered here, I pray. MY PLEA My plea today : Lord, I would ask That it will prove a pleasant task To give to some tired soul the cheer That Thou didst give when Thou wert here. To some sad heart give joy and light, To illuminate where palls the night, With smiles earth's care to drive away. When evening casts the cumbrous day. Might it be mine to oft disperse The gloom that follows passing hearse, With loving words that lure to Thee The heart entombed in misery. I learned the lesson of loving Thee Through pain and grief that came to me. And now my one desire and prayer Is that with others I may share. 42 My Plea 43 And when life's span is sundered here And death's release shall come, By Thee, and loved ones waiting there, May I be welcomed home. LITTLE MARGARET Like a sunbeam came dear Margaret Into my room, the little pet. Her sunny curls half tethered back, Her features fair nothing could lack. Her brown eyes fringed with lashes long Swept o'er her cheeks — rose-bloomed among The dimples playing — red lips show Two rows of pearl as white as snow. " How old are you, sweet Margaret ? " I asked, as she quite near me sat. " I's fo' yiz ole des 'tuther day, Not any mo', my mamma say." " Who made you? Tell me, little pet." " Dod made me," said sweet Margaret. " He's dood an' libs above de sty ; I'm doin' ter see Him when I die. 44 Little Margaret 45 " He has whole lots ov anzels fair, Wid shiny wings an' dolden hair. He lubs de chilluns, an' some day He'll turn an' take me where He stay," " Well, you thank Him, Margaret, Before we eat, and quite forget." " Es, I'll t'ank Him now," she said. With serious face, and bowed her head. " Dod, mate me dood as I tan be, Des like de anzels '00 tan see, He'p me to lub '00 day an' night And be des as dood wid all my might. " Is dat enuff ter say dest et? " " Oh, yes, my precious Margaret," I answered, tears now in my eyes, For sacred mem'ries that would rise. " My little friend," I finally said, " You've lots of reverence in that head. I trust you'll ever be as sweet As now — for heaven ripe and meet. 46 Little Margaret " May that dear God you love to praise Guide you through life's serenest ways. Could your sweet faith be mine, dear pet, Life's sorrows all I could forget. " Farewell, sweet child, farewell for aye, That we may meet somewhere I'll pray. Life here for you is yet to come. Mine's going fast — I'll soon reach home." UNDER THE SHADOW OF A DYING YEAR Under the shadow of a dying year, With heart o'ercast by grief and tear And head bowed low, with sorrows cast And the death of hopes that could not last. Under the shadow of a dying year, Watching and waiting, through constant fear For winter to pass, and returning spring Some hope and joy once more to bring. Under the shadow of a dying year. With anxious heart and dismal sphere, Groping through devious paths untrod. Feeling our way to Heaven and God. Under the shadow of a dying year, 'Mid scenes of life grown strangely sere. Striving 'gainst fate, bending with care, Leaning on Christ, by faith and with prayer, 47 48 Under the Shadow of a Dying Year Under the shadow of a dying year, With fewer years, and less of life's cheer; With faces loved hidden from sight, And voices silent that made life bright. Under the shadow of a dying year, Waiting life's mysteries to be made clear; Where toils and trials and tears and strife Will all be reckoned the blessings of life. Under the shadow of a dying year, With withered heart, moist with tear: Waiting for rest, the bier and the sod, And love evermore in the home of our God. THE SOLDIER BOY Only a plot of ground Where roses dream, The grass atween, Ivy nestling 'round. Only a narrow bed Kissed by the air, And sun rays fair, The sod a pillow for his head. Fought and died, The battle field His bed, his shield The musket by his side. Only a dreary home Where roses weep, And zephyrs keep Breaking into a moan. 49 50 The Soldier Boy Only a vacant chair, His erstwhile seat At mother's feet, Where he knelt in prayer. Only a broken heart, A silvered head, Her darling dead ; Alone, she played her part. SANTA CLAUS I HEAR the bells a-ringing Over the hills away, And Santa Claus a-singing As speeds his crimson sleigh. His coat of fur is laden, And pockets, every one, With gifts for boy and maiden Of devices quaintly done. Old Santa in his glory. His reindeers four in hand, Traverses every city In all the happy land. He hears the sweet petitions, — Sent up at eventide. To the dear God who made them,- Around each fireside. 51 52 Santa Claus He reads the thousand letters, Some scribbled, some so fine, Asking for many a present At dear old Christmas time. He sees the myriad stockings Decking the chimney side, And waiting little urchins With eyes still open wide. He waits until in slumber The little ones have gone, Then, noiseless, takes his treasures And fills them every one. Then stealthily he scrambles Up the chimney high, To other children waiting He makes his reindeers fly. Out from his boundless riches He hauls gay dollies fair, With guns, and drums, and horses. And monkeys with long hair. * Santa Clans 53 He asks no questions ever, But gives to rich and poor; In all his kindly visits He never slights a door. Just like the blessed Jesus, He loves the children all ; Though naughty and ungrateful, He answers when they call. A LOW WHITE COT IN ARKANSAW Song There's a low white cot on a green sloping hill, Where the song of the bird and the tune of the rill Charm the hours as they speed on the bosom of time; That Arkansaw home is the dear home of mine. Chortis While mem'ry lives green, and 'twill ever live on As green as the hills on Leal's fair mom, There'll be love in my heart for those I once saw In the low white cot in dear Arkansaw. 54 A Low White Cot in Arkansaw 55 The zephyrs soft play 'round the lily and rose, As dreamily the hours bring joy and repose; Days pass by ush'ring love with its rest, And peace reigns within, for its inmates are blest. Though faces are absent and youthful lives gone, Their fragrance still lives in that dear cottage home. For many's the hour of joy we all saw In that little white cot in dear Arkansaw. MOTHER Beside the grave I'm kneeling. Far Beyond the sunset rifts the evening star Beckons to lands where is no grief or pain, Where I shall see thy face, thy gentle face again. I feel the night dews on my boyish head. As oft I felt thy hand in soothing power, When, tossing feverish on my trundle bed. You watched me through each weary hour. While bending o'er thee now, I long to be Caressed as only thou could'st do, When cares of work-a-day had set me free, And I had hurried home to you. The world is careless, hard and cold. And for me gives no special thought, Its treasures now are bought and sold, No note of sympathy is caught. 56 Mother 57 So I go hungering the night and day For thy sweet love now lost to me awhile, Longing once more to hear thee softly pray, " Lord, let angels guard my child." I hear the singing of the brook close by, The autumn leaves slow dropping from the bough, And the twittering of night-birds, restless, shy, As I in tearful reverence o'er thee bow. Could my fond prayer be heard by thee Where thou hast found thy coveted reward, I know that thou wouldst truly pity me, And to my lonely heart speak soothing word. But thou hast taught me whom to ever trust, Our Father's Son, through night and day. Unlike the cold world, He is ever just, And will not turn your boy away. MY LITTLE SOUTHERN BELLE Song Fair as any queen and sweet as any rose, My little Southern Belle where the orange blossom grows. In the vale of dear Arkansas, rich in love and sweet perfume, And the whiteness of the lilies and sweet mag- nolia's bloom. Chortis Oh, sweet as any blossom and fair as any queen, My little Southern beauty, like a poet's fancy dream, In a pretty, low, white cottage, wreathed in vines of evergreen, And she promised she would wed me when the rose's blush was seen, 58 My Little Southern Belle 59 Her eyes are dark and sparkling with dews of maiden love, And her every smile reminds me of the angels up above. Her form inspired with graces, Apollo would admire, — Oh, she's my Southern beauty of whom I never tire. She says the sweetest nonsense that I have ever heard. And sings just like the songster of the South, — she beats a bird. Her hair it shames the raven, her eyes deep as the sea, Her dimples, constant playing hide-and-seek, allure me. My little Southern beauty sits in her cottage door, Watching for my coming as she never did before. 6o My Little Southern Belle She's the fairest and the sweetest, my little Southern Belle, And I love her, yes, I love her more than any- one can tell. IN MEMORIAM {Decoration Day — the Blue and the Gray) Lay flowers fresh upon each breast, Sing their requiems o'er and o'er; 'Twill not disturb their peaceful rest, Nor waken them for evermore. Nor sound of fife, nor flute, nor drum Can rouse them from their lowly bed ; Their battle's o'er, their victory won, On fields immortal, the martyred dead. Let teardrops fall athwart their grave. Whose vernal tints relieve the sod, 'Twill ease the heart of many brave. Waiting thy call, O righteous God. Speak kindly words of praise and prayer, Of how unconquered heroes fought In tattered garments proud to bear The name "Confed" — with honor fraught. 6i 62 In Memoriam The gray canteen and musket old, That hangs against the cabin wall, To each spectator speaketh bold And tells the story of their fall. Tongue nor time can blot their page From history's dissident lore, Of the chivalric, noble age, When Knighthood gave its blood — and more. Nor martial music, nor tattoo, Nor concourse followed to their grave Our boys, that loved their country true, And life for it and honor gave. No paeans fell upon their ears, Nor victory perched their banners torn, When, at the close of four long years, Our boys in gray came back reborn. When death-knell sounded o'er the land, Boys in blue had left their home, A brave, heroic, federal band. To fight for what they nobly won. In Memoriam 63 Ofttimes a squad of blue and gray Held meetings 'neath a flag of truce, Shook hands and rested by the way, With kindly words, free from abuse. Sleeping side by side are they, The sod a pillow for their head, Angels guarding night and day The silent bivouac of the dead. Strew flowers on the boys in blue, Sleeping in our Southern land ; God's angels watch them. Let us strew Their graves with generous hand. Some mother's boy has gone to God. Died — ah ! true as steel, and brave, His love for home and native sod Announced on that which marks his grave. Face to face and hand to hand, The blue and gray, the victory won. Rest now, blest, in Eden land, Christ, their captain, every one. 64 in Memoriam With mem'ries dear and ne'er forgot Each year we lay sweet flowers there Upon their graves — most sacred spot — And for their loved ones breathe a prayer. O God supreme, kind judge of all, The dead — and soldiers living yet, The latter help to hear Thy call. And war's vicissitudes forget. THROUGH THE MIST Through the mist, to bygone years, Mem'ry lures my heart today, When youth and hope without life's tears Roamed merrily on life's sweet way. The old red mill, moss-grown and gray, On the sunny banks of old Saline, I've watched its revolutions gay With joy almost supreme. Played in the shallow of the stream, In miniature lakes the minnows snared, Till rays from western skies, agleam, Abandoned earth, and night declared. How bright the scenes — they come to me, The meadow fair, the hill, the lea, The dell, and field of waving grain Luxuriating in the rain. 65 66 Through the Mist The song of bird, the tinkhng bell, And rivulet, that wood-notes swell, The vernal rugs spread at my feet Interwove with flowers sweet. The evening with its soothing spell. And peace that in the hearts there fell, Like some sweet strain of music sent From Leal with love supremely blent. Silvery threads from moon and stars, Weaving paths — with staid old Mars, Through the darkness on earth-shore. How I glimpse them as in yore. The old home gray with age and grime, \ Stately as in pristine time, Has ojffered many a safe retreat For weary heart and tired feet. Vines where swallows built their' nest And straying songsters paused to rest, Are clinging yet about the door. With roses blushing as in yore. Through the Mist 67 The joyous shout of children sweet, With rosy Hps — for kisses meet, That romped the hall in winter day. Have gone away — so far away. Mother's hand that soothed our pain Long beneath the snow has lain, Her eyes that shone on us with love Are watching through the gates above. With these dear mem'ries pure and good, I ofttimes lose life's sterner mood. To find, as in my childhood years, My heart repentant and in tears. \ MY TEARS Holy Father, touch with Thy gracious hand divine This tired heart, I pray, and weary soul of mine. In each awaken songs of sweetest praise to Thee, With love that, by its vastness, shall move ?.^; eternity. Let Thy spirit's peace, as a gentle dove, descend. And with mine humble heart in communion blend. While utter I none but ceaseless words of love, As I a suppliant kneel before Thy throne above. Lord, as I would here have others do to me, Erase my faults as I do theirs in sweetest charity. And, if my name's aspersed by enemy or foe, Help me to forgive and love them as in yore. 63 My Tears 69 Oft by the wayside here, lonely, sad and drear, I sit me down and ponder the past with flowing tear. years of possibility, ruthless thrown away, For aye obliterated by time's impressed decay. 1 realize now fully the serious, devious task Of being true to Deity and being what He'd ask. Of giving Him my service every day and hour. And planting in His vineyard life's everlasting flower, Lo, when my life has fallen into its lowest ebb, And every thread is wovefi athwart its finished web, I'll pray the Christ to wash them, smooth the knots and blurs. With the contents of the urn that containeth all my tears. {To a nameless Rough Rider, who fell at the Battle of Santiago) Through the camp-fire's lowly glimmer, Fading in the evening air, Came the voice of one in earnest, Lifted low in solemn prayer. " Father, help me to surrender All to Thee and sin no more ; Mother's teachings to remember, At her knee in days of yore." Slowly, darkly, twilight gathered O'er the solemn, quiet scene. Broken only by petition, Rising up to God supreme. Every deed of childhood hovered O'er the contrite soldier's breast ; Every sin of manhood covered With the blood of Jesus blest. 70 To a Nameless Rough Rider 71 A hush of heavenly, holy stillness Fell upon the boyish form ; A light as from an upward window Bathed his face in beauty warm. Tremblingly his words ascended, "Saviour, watch my mother dear." Angels caught the sweet petition, Jesus wiped the falling tear. Slowly all the camp-fires faded Near the touching, dismal scene, Where he knelt, sweet visions catching Of mother, home, and campus green. Again, her loving arms caressed him; Again her gentle voice he heard ; Again her good-night kiss assured him Of her blessing without a word. Soothed at last he slowly wended Back to where his comrades lay, Creeping to his cot rejoicing That mother taught him how to pray. 72 To a Nameless Rough Rider Morning woke amid the thunderous Cannon's roar and musket's fire, Sweeping faithful guards on duty, Chivalry worlds will admire. Onward, fierce and brave, they battled, As brighter fell the sunlight's gleam, Across the heaps of soldiers wounded. Across the crimson flowing stream. Calm in all the thickest battle, One straight, brave form held his place, Firing quick with oft succession, Determination in his face. Slowly back the foe were driven, O'er their comrades, lying dead ; Few " Rough Riders " with that number ; None had shirked and none had fled. Soon the ambulance came rumbling. Picking up the gallant dead ; Ah ! he's here, — that brave " Rough Rider " Fought and for his country bled. To a Nameless Rough Rider 73 Firing till the smoke had faded, Sat he on his noble steed ; Till hand to hand the fight grew general ; The foe retreated at full speed. His boyish form lay bathed in crimson ; Serenely smiled his classic face; His chestnut curls yet careless waving In the sunlight of God's grace. Tenderly they placed a blanket 'Neath the brave " Rough Rider," dead; Solemnly canteen and jacket Slipped they 'neath his curly head. Hark ! again the fire of battle Resounds beyond the neighboring hill. " To arms ! " his comrades jump their saddles, And all again is deathly still. Sleeping on the hillside gently, Where free Cuba's sunlight falls, Unconscious of the raging battle. Unmindful of his general's calls. 74 To a Nameless Rough Rider Home no more, to mother never That dear boy will come again. He's won the fight on fields eternal, And rests on Jordan's conquering plain. BABE OF BETHLEHEM In a trough where Judea's cattle fed, Bethlehem's Babe lay sleeping in its quaint and narrow bed; A light shone about it far brighter than the sun, So that the people marveled who saw the Holy One. Outside Bethlehem's precincts on Judea's plains away, Shepherds sleeping peaceful, among their flocks now lay, Till wakened by the angels shouting down the way, " Glory to God. the highest, a Saviour's born today!" Full quick there was commotion on Judea's verdant hills. Where flocks of sheep lay scattered hard by the crystal rills, 75 76 Babe of Bethlehem The dozing shepherds, frightened, arose upon their feet And bowed their faces downward, the royal guests to greet. Gold chariots, starred with jewels, richly carved and bright ; Drawn by imperial horses, of fire though silvery white, Poised low on zephyrs laden with perfume from the sky. Whose occupants were singing, " Glory to God on High ! " A great cortege of angels joined the glorious song, Pausing in rapturous wonder the shepherds low among, Crying, "Peace on earth, good will to men ; we tidings bring Of Christ, the Lord, Messiah, Israel's prophets sing." Babe of Bethlehem 77 Lo ! then they vanished upward and not a single sound Was heard except the bleating of frightened lambs around, The shepherds pondered deeply at what the angels said And ran to Bethlehem's stable where the royal child was laid. They found Him in a manger which was rudely cut from stone; He was close wrapped in swaddling clothes, though He was not alone, For in the same trough, sleeping, Mary and Joseph lay, Near them were the cattle, in stalls, not far away. 'Twas midnight when they started, shouting as they went, " To us a child is given, to us a Saviour sent." 78 Babe of Bethlehem And from that day to this the cry has echoed strong, — The world has heard it over and still it rolls along. Each Christniastide it blesses — the rich, the poor, the sad, And makes all hearts to praise Him in joyous pleasure glad ; This babe, the Christ and Saviour, born in Bethlehem, His star shall shine forever to guide all mortal men. Go deck your home with roses and wreaths or evergreen. Pearled mistletoe and holly, and make a merry scene. Christmas Day, the holiest of holy days on earth. The day when angels came to earth proclaiming Jesus' birth. Babe of Bethlehem 79 Spread trophies rich and gorgeous, while kneel- ing at His feet, Hear His loving welcome in words of love complete ; Go tell Him all the story of your deeds at Christmastide, How you loved the suffering poor, the sick watched oft beside. How you sacrificed your pleasure, from your pride quick turned away, Made a friend and companion of the lonely castaway. Helped the aged and the weary up the steep of life's hard way, Clothed the naked, fed the hungry, warmed the winter's chill away. Turned that cruel word of slander into loving words of cheer, Helped some human heart to gather strength for other bitter year. 8o Babe of Bethlehem With your dear soul's kindly interest touched sweet chords of long ago — By the cold world deadened, saddened, with bitter words of woe. Ring the bells forever throughout the endless earth ; Proclaim the blessed tidings of Jesus' royal birth ; Sing His song of peace, good-will on earth to men, Glory to the Highest, oh, Babe of Bethlehem ! A SHATTERED IDEAL Far away, where streams are rippling Through the springtime's flowery glade, And zephyrs sweet, with fragrance laden, Kiss the yew tree's friendly shade. There where trills the happy songster. O'er the waving meadow grass, Hard by, in a vine-thatched cottage, Dwells a pretty country lass. Her eyes are blue as skies of summer. Revealing love but half complete, Shadowed by dark silken lashes, Sweeping cheeks for kisses meet. 'Twas in the gloaming's pensive moment, When the stars in heaven beamed, That I met her accidentally, This ideal of which I dreamed. 3i 82 A Shattered Ideal Leisurely she plodded homeward, Singing snatches of love's song, While the cows, in single filing. Beat the path she trudged along. " Step up. Pinkie, come on, Daisy ! Hurry, mooly, we'll be late; Step up, Pidey, you're so triflin', Jimsie's waiting at the gate." Here, mused I, kind Fate has led me, And I hastened to her, said. Asking if I could assist her; "No," she tossed her pretty head. " Pardon me, my pretty lassie, I'm an artist-stranger here. And so charmed with your sweet picture, I would like to paint you, dear." She blushed red and stammered softly ; I only caught the words " be mad," And asked her if she meant her father, " No," she said; " I have no dad." A Shattered Ideal 83 " Who is it, then, my fairest maiden? " " J — Jim," she stammered forth at last. " And who is Jim? " I quickly asked her: " My husband, sir." I tumbled fast. MY CHILDHOOD HOME My childhood home, how dear to me, Each flower, and nook, and leafy tree That grew around the dear old place Where first I saw my mother's face. The memory of that fireside dear, Where oft I dropped a truant tear. Or at sweet eventide's blest hour To mimic castles built many a tower. My mother's voice I hear it now, As with her hand pressed on my brow I lisp again my evening prayer. With angels bending listening there. The silver threads in shining fold, Upon her brow once gleams of gold Above the lines of care that lay, How like a halo circled they. My Childhood Home 85 Her gentle hands that soothed my head Are resting quiet with the dead ; Her lips that taught me how to pray Are singing where 'tis endless day. Sweet childhood's home, how dear to me, Each spot where fancy bears me free, Is sacred round the dear old place Where first I saw my mother's face. THE OLD-FASHIONED CHURCH The old-fashioned church is the church for me, With its time-honored ways and pews rent free, Its deacons and stewards, the best of men, Who dared to be heard when they uttered " Amen." I love the old church with its time-honored ways, And kind Christian mothers of *' 'fore the war " days. Who attended the class and prayer meetings all, Bringing their children, grown-up and small. Their sons were sturdy, handsome, and tall, Their daughters were fair and buxom all; They sewed, and baked, and knit, and they read Till the time came 'round some lover to wed. 86 The O Id-Fashioned Church 87 Their bonnets were neat — some white as the snow, 'Twas the fashion, sunbonnets, in those days, you know. And their gowns exactly fit their plump waist, In those days they neither padded nor laced. Their cheeks were as rosy as a beautiful peach, And for soft pretty hands vied they other with each ; Their figures most shapely and so supple grown, And had they bright eyes, each a pair of her own. In a pew to themselves the large boys sat, While the girls in a row the good preacher looked at. No 'kerchief flirtations were carried on there 'Twixt boys and girls, nor whispering in prayer. Those who could sing joined in on each song. Till the music to heaven seemed wafted along, While many a tear on furrowed cheeks shone As the last notes soft o'er the hills were blown. 88 The Old-Fashioned Church The singing was a prayer from beginning to end, And old grandsires prayed softly " Amen," While the preacher, with eyes uplifted to heaven. Thanked God for the songs of praise He had given. And once in a while, in a corner near by. Some saint in Israel, with a tear in her eye. Would cry, '* Hallelujah ! hallelujah, amen! " Then sink to obscurity, — silent again. Ah, dear is the church of the old-fashioned days, When religion was pure and free from dis- plays. When faithful old men and women were wise, Whose forms now moulder beneath the blue skies. The Old-Fashioned Church 89 To an old-fashioned church I long now to go, Where neither there's folly, nor fashion, nor show. Where hearts are united in faith and sweet love, And helping each other to the kingdom above. May mem'ries sweet of the old-fashioned ways Live green in our hearts to our very last days. And may we weak mortals of these modem shrines Learn lessons of goodness from blessed old times. BYGONES Our thoughts revert to bygone days, Happy, fleeting bygone days, Long since buried with the past In devious ways. Our heart grows tender over them, Each sunny path we knew ; ah, when We were a little child, how sweet All things in life did blend. Our little heartaches never grew Beyond a tiny, trifling few ; Our transient tears but seldom flowed And sighs we never knew. Our days all passed on halcyon wings. Our life-path glowed with golden things; Our future all looked bright and fair, Unmarked by sorrow's stings. 90 Bygones 91 Ah, but the changes and they came, Not one scene looked to us the same ; Down ev'ry way that once we knew, Decay marked every lane. And now we look back changed and sad, With hearts that long to be made glad. As in those happy days of yore Our childhood had. LITTLE ROSE Ah_, little rose, how sweet you smile Up in my face — up in my heart, Its loneliness you may beguile. And with new joy spring up a part. Dear little rose, with timid grace, Nestling there so sweet and pure, Look up at me with friendly face. And rest my faith in God secure. Your tiny petals — fragrant fair, Bear heavenly traces everywhere; Nursed by the sun, kissed by the breeze. And kindly sheltered by the trees. You nestle in your cozy bed, The grass a pillow for your head ; The dew's your food, the rain your drink, You're the sweetest flower on earth, I think. 92 LOVE, TO YOU Out from the crest of the mountain blue, I'm saihng, saiUng, love, to you. Thinking of the day when last we met, And the joy it gave, shall we forget? Our hearts together sang love's song, As new life sprang our paths along, Making a heaven of this old earth. Where first awakened love's sweet birth. love, pure love, unsoiled on earth, 1 bless the hour that gave thee birth. 93 HE KNOWS He knows the weary way, the strife, And cares that oft beset this Hfe, With disappointments that run rife. He knows the gloom that marks each day, Shadows dark that bridge the way, Wherein the hght was wont to play. He knows how weary grows the heart. Though patiently it bears life's part, Bruised with what pain and many a smart. He knows the dim and shadowy way, Its crosses — we are only clay — As plod the feet through checkered day. He knows the cruel flames that burn Within the soul as oft we yearn His will to do and love discern. He knows our heart, its sighs and tears, Its joys and griefs, and hopes and fears, Through all the past and coming years. 94 He Knows 95 He knows our every want and care, And hears our faintest whispered prayer, When faith is steady anchored there ; He knows our future and our past. Bids us burdens on Him cast. And happy with Him Hve at last. YOU When evening sunset closes day, And shadows dark in ambush stray; When Luna, with her starlit train, Steps smiling forth on Ether's plain, 'Tis then my thoughts, with love most true, Turn back to other days — and You. 96