,/% % Artljur mnUv pater, m. E Member Maryland Historical Society Copyright, 1918 By Arthur M. Easter Baltimore, Md. MAY 29 i9l8 Press of Clem mitt— Printer Baltimore, Md. ©G1.A497518 Ig Mut^nrtt Btzahrtif Mxiitv SaBt^r* Oie smooth-skinned, sappy boughs of darker brown The wooly wads of buds are folded down, Each swaddled in a rumpled, fuzzy gown. The chilling breezes cannot get to them. Thus closely cuddled to the mother stem. Their feet wrapped in their red frock's ruffled hem. Betimes their yellow tendrils looser curl. Betimes their fan-shaped follicles unfurl; They're growing stealthily, as grows a girl. Waked by the blue-bird's chirp, some balmy day. They'll burst the sheaths that bind them, and display Themselves, green-kirtled, to the eyes of May. ^ttxtnUt to ^tv Mtxmx^ *Author of "Clytie and Other Poems." An early photograph is opposite page 48. 3artmtirh Some lines, herein, Fve written To one most lovely grown. Whose name is spelt, you'll notice, Exactly like your own; But if they're for yourself, dear, Or not, how can I tell? It all depends on whether You like them very well. For, if you care not for them, ( Whatever I may say,) They must he for some sweetheart Who's not yet come my way; But if they really please you, ni he so glad it's true; In that case, won't you tell me? So ni know they're for you. Cotttpnta Page Abandonment 147 Absence 71 Adoration 28 America 14 Americans, Be True 254 Annapolis 130 Approval 34 Are You Glad? 200 Are You Satisfied? 158 Are You She ? 190 Army of the Lord, The 246 Aspirations 37 Attainment 179 Attraction 117 Auntie's Lesson 240 Autumn 42 Bachelor's Christmas, The 84 Bachelor Meditations 245 Bachelor's Romance, A 243 Bachelor's Soliloquy, The. 225 Baltimore 89 Banks of the Shenandoah, The 45 Because You're You 168 Bess 146 Be Strong 173 "Be Ye Wise as Serpents". 216 Bid Me Not "Good-Bye!"... 219 Book-Lover, The 153 Bud, The 192 But This I Know 179 Page Celia 26 Changes 136 "Charles" Street 100 Chesapeake, 'Cross the 171 Chesapeake, Whistling on THE , 217 Chincoteague to Baltimore, From 224 Choice, The 161 Church Meditations 40 College Girl, A 2^ Come Now 125 Commencement Roses 80 Commendation 107 Confession 209 Consolation 222 Consummation 191 Counting the Hours 15 Country Club Inn, at Belair 96 Courtship, The 61 Cruel Circumstances... 170 Culmination 137 Culture 151 Daisy, The 36 Dancing Lesson, The 59 Darling Sweetheart, A.... 102 Death Is Not King 248 Desire 143 Dessert 229 Dreaming 160 Dream, The 181 imvitatiom of a TSatUlot Page Elizabeth 67 Elinore 79 Elsie 43 Encouragement 151 Entreaty 119 Ethel Dinsmore 134 Expression 154 Fairest, The 149 Faith 205 Fear Not 249 Forgotten 131 For Her I Wait 173 For She'll Not Be Denied. . 64 Fortune Telling 144 Fortune Teller, The 162 Four Dasies 132 From Seeming to Sight 63 Gates of Paradise, The 34 Gentle Woman 11 God's Country iii God's Presence 253 Goldenrod 62 "Goucher," Susan G. of 251 Gown, The 75 Gray Day, A 46 Gretchen 76 Hard Times 22 Heart Hunger 157 Her Eyes 230 Homage 166 Hope Deferred 95 "Hopkins" Sent, Men That 90 Humility 124 I Forget Not 29 If She But Knew 185 Page Illumination 148 I Miss You So... 68 Immortality 163 Influence 185 "In God We Trust" 37 Interim, The 156 Into the Light 175 Invitation 105 I Wonder 182 I Wonder Why? 98 It's Such a Waste of Bliss 211 Jimmie's New Flame 233 JOSIAH 203 Judith 233 Joy, Miss 110 Kismet 104 Kitty Deane, The Canon- ization OF 48 Landlady, To Our Esteemed 232 L'envoy 252 Let's Dreams Compare iii Life's Journey 70 Lines to Rupert Brooke and Alan Seeger 47 Listen 108 Lonesomeness 21 Longing 115 Louise Smiles, When 223 Love Flower, The 220 Love Is King 45 Love's Acknowledgment 42 Love's Canaan 20 Love's Desire 250 Love's Excellence 10 Love's Locket 97 Love's Old Sweet Song 122 3Dpl0 anD Mtal$ Page Love's Red Rose 74 Love's Remembrance 126 Love's Touch 207 Love's Xebec 57 Lucy... 86 Lucy Loved Me 233 Margaret loi Maryland, My 82 Maryland, Among the Hills of 206 Mary, the Mother of Jesus 238 Match, The 187 Meeting, The 109 Message, The 208 Modesty 244 Mountain Shower, After A 10 My Father's the King 210 My Friend 195 My Heart's Desire 78 My Heart's Ideal 188 My Lassie 202 My Own 118 My Saint 128 Mystical Well, The 211 Naval Academy Ball 177 North Point, The Battle of 116 "Now" 129 Oblation 183 October 58 Ode to Beauty, An 13 Old Farm Gate, The 135 One Autumn's Day 24 Overflow, The 159 O Wondrous Melody ! 242 Palestine, Through 120 Page Passing Face, A 139 Passing, The 155 Patapsco 106 Peggy 32 Please Bid Me Welcome.... 187 Please Come Soon 247 Power Supreme, The 162 Priscilla and John Alden. 234 Psalm of Confidence, A 226 Remembrance 12 Reminiscences 11 Response. 254 Rest 172 Resurrection 17 Return, The 110 Rhymster, The 32 Riches 113 Ride, The 164 Road to Happiness, The... 18 Rondeau, A 103 Rose She Gave, The 19 Rose, The 112 Rose, To a 60 Ruth 176 Sadie My Lady. 123 Say You are Real 44 September Twelfth 150 Sight 109 Sii^cE She Is Come 69 "Sincerely Yours" 25 "Sixteen". 31 So Gracious You Are 66 So Much You Captivate 81 Solace 72 Some Faded Flowers 91 Somewhere 204 Stray Thoughts at Church 167 impitatiom of a isacftelot Page St. Valentine's Day... 196 Sublimity. 141 Summer's End, The 197 Supplication 145 Sweetheart Divine 230 Sylvia. 180 Tales My Mother Told 9 The Two of Us 198 Their Absence is Such Woe 77 Thoughts 213 Thought of You, The 142 Three Sonnets 138 To Thee Alone 85 Urgency 250 Valentine, A 129 Vase, The 226 Verlinda 194 Vicissitude 99 Page Violet, The Birth of the.. 214 Violets 41 Violets and Roses 127 Vision of Faith, The 240 Visit, The 73 Washington, George 16 Ways of a Maiden, The 193 What the Trouble Is 140 When No One Else Is Near 65 When You Come 184 Why? 85 Will You Pass Too? 114 Wish, The 169 Won't You Come? 87 Won't You Come Back? 112 Won't You Speak ? 39 Words Can't Express 199 Wreath, The 200 Your Name S3 Stat of aUuatrattnna Portrait of Author Frontispiece Washington Monument 0pp. Page 16 Kitty Deane Peggy For She'll Not Be Denied The Country Club Inn My Saint Dreaming The Bud A Glimpse of Chincoteague Island and Bay. 48 32 64 96 128 160 192 224 Jnaptrattntt0 nf a larljf lor THE TALES MY MOTHER TOLD. The tales my mother used to tell, They were so dear to me, I never shall forget their charm, Through all eternity; Close tucked within her sheltering arms, Safe folded on her breast. No thought of care, no grief, no fear, My heart, then, e'er distressed. Cind'rella, Sinbad, Puss-in-boots, My marveling mind would claim, With other tales she only knew, Which out of her heart came; They all were lovelier to me. Than any, since, I know ; Because it was my mother told Those tales of long ago. The tales my mother used to tell, — How beautiful they were ! I loved them so, they come back still. Whene'er I think of her; For now she's gone, far, far away, (In heaven, indeed, she dwells,) And there is no one else I know. Such lovely stories tells. 10 imvitatiom of a iSacftelor LOVE'S EXCELLENCE. Most excellent is love, and most divine, All other gifts of God it doth outshine, Faith, hope, sublimity, peace, grace and truth, Fame, riches, honor, power and even youth, (And never its munificence doth cloy;) Pure pleasure and delight and strength and joy, And every other good, mind can think of, Comes by, or through, or from, omniscient love ; For love's the real, complete and perfect whole, Which, in the end, doth bless man's deathless soul. Ay, love's divine, as every blessing tells. For God Himself is love, and in love dwells; And they who would the laws of love fulfill, Must love all men, — and God, — in truth, until Their sun of love has risen above the earth, And in its light they've found new life, new birth; Then, they will know how excellent is love; 'Tis only thus God can bless and approve. Since He is love, and where love cometh not. He may not bide, and hapless is man's lot. AFTER A MOUNTAIN SHOWER. The dun clouds drift apart, — through rifts shines forth the sun, A stream of light, (transclucent is its sheen,) And all the air is freshly filled with glad ozone, — From dust the rains of heaven have newly washed it clean ; Mountain and valley, clad with verdure rare. Make life a thing of glory everywhere, So that, with glad acclaim, our lips declare. How beautiful is earth! the sky how fair! 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 n GENTLE WOMAN. Dearest joy and sweetest pleasure Under heaven's canopy, Like thee is no other treasure, In the earth, or sky, or sea. Art is dumb when thou art present, Beautiful in form and face. Every thought of thee is pleasant. Rude is all beside thy grace. Precious, lovely, gentle woman. In thee bideth all that's dear. Love and thee go out and come in. Leaving pain or bringing cheer. REMINISCENCES. The far away look in her eyes told me She was thinking of someone she did not see; That, though I was near her it mattered not, Some way my existence she had forgot ; How lovely she looked as she dreamed that day ! But, whom she then dreamed of, I can not say. Only I knew, by the look in her eyes, There, someone, sometime, would find Paradise. Alas, she left lately, — nor bid me, "good-bye!" Not even a smile, or a whispered sigh ; But I wonder, now that she's off afar, Some place where other and newer friends are, Does she sometimes forget their gracious cheer, And listen, the call of my heart to hear? Does anyone else ever now surprise That wistful, fond look in her clear, dear eyes ? Does she sometimes recall those days of yore. And the lover she left in Baltimore? 12 3n0pitation0 of a T5ac|)elot THE ROSE. I climbed a hill to pluck a rose, So fair it grew, such fragrance had, From all the rest that one I chose. Its wondrous grace made my heart glad; Most eagerly I reached forth then. The flower bloomed so sweet and fair, — When should I find a rose again. Of so much charm, with scent so rare? Alas, alack, I came too late ! Scattered its petals, fled its scent, Such are the strange, sad ways of fate, Beauty and charm seem only lent; They're here one moment, then, ah, me! They flee away and disappear ; Grief takes the place of ecstasy. And sadness takes the place of cheer. Long time I sought, then asked a boon Of one who fairer than flower grew, — She was a glorious friend at noon. Ere eventide her smile withdrew; I'm wondering now, if, like that rose. Her friendship came to but pass by? Or will it, aye, bring joy? who knows Whether or not it, too, will die? REMEMBRANCE. She 'mindeth me of vine-clad hills. And lovely country lanes. Of fragrant flowers and restful rills, jtPglg anP 3Deal0 13 Of all good life contains; Aye, every charm and every grace, It seems to me, in her finds place. She 'mindeth me of all the dreams Of joy I've ever had, Of every blessing that hope claims. Of every thought that's glad; Green fields, clear skies, aye, every place Where dwelleth happiness and grace. She 'mindeth me — ^but, I can't tell All she doth 'mind me of ; Enough, my heart she does compel, Always herself to love; For she is, O, so fair to see. Of all things fair she 'mindeth me! AN ODE TO BEAUTY. Ay, beauty sheer and pure, supreme, sublime, Now overspreads the land in joyous mood, For lo, 'tis beauty's glorious harvest time ! And what, than beauty, is more truly good? So I adore earth's lovely hills and vales. Where winds and sunbeams play, with joy intense; My soul anew earth's gracious freshness hails. As I go forth, its wondrous charms to sense. O leaves and flowers and skies of myriad hues ! O fields and forests marvelously grand ! To love thy Maker well, who could refuse? Who, want of love for thee, can understand? And so I worship now at thy fair shrine. The God of beauty and of grace divine. 14 Impitntiom of a TBacftelot AMERICA. From famed Phoenicia's far off shore, From ancient Rome's most mighty power, From Greece and Thrace, — from all the past, — America received her dower Of learning, wisdom, courage, strength; Till now she's grown a nation great As all of those from which she sprung By God's good will, — O wondrous fate! United, prosperous, we stand Foursquare to all the world today, The bulwark of true liberty. Which shall, at last, the whole world sway ; Because by principle and power. By grace of God, and freedom's might. Our sires, from earth's remotest bounds. Have sworn to live — let live — the right. The whole wide world we dare to face, Since we but good desire to do, To fill our heaven-destined place. And unto our best selves true ; America, God's chosen land. Where came the oppressed from all the earth ; We bless Him for each pilgrim band, Whose coming helped give freedom birth. Unto the "Stars and Stripes" we bring A fealty which can not die. The people — they alone are king — And for no other king we sigh ; Garnered, indeed, from all the world. The best of men from every race, Who've ever lived — our flag unfurled. We lead the van of truth and grace. 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 15 COUNTING THE HOURS. I am counting the hours, precious sweetheart of mine, Till I look in your eyes once more, For you're lovelier far than just words can explain. And you I shall always adore; I am counting the hours till again I shall hear The joy teaching tones of your voice. And shall clasp, well contented, yourself in my arms, — Are you not, for me, heaven's choice? I am counting the hours, — still, I'm glad, dear, to wait; For soon now the day will come 'round. When you'll welcome me fondest, — ^because, I believe My life by your love will be crowned; So I'm counting the hours, — they are not sad, but glad, For are you not counting them, too ? Yes, I'm certain you want me, as I want yourself, Sweetheart, ever tender and true. I am counting the hours, as I always shall count The hours you're away from my side, And I'm thinking and dreaming of that happy time When near me you'll always abide ; For you're lovely and sweet from your head to your feet, You're wondrously, graciously good. And so I admire you, adore you, desire you, — Ay, love your each feature and mood. I am counting the hours, every second is glad. In the thought that some day you'll be mine. And rejoice, then, it's true that I want only you, — That your heart is my love's only shrine ; For it's true, evermore your fair self I shall love As earth loves the sun and the sky. So I'm counting the hours till your lips mine shall meet, With love's fondest, bravest reply. i6 imvitmom of a iSacftelor GEORGE WASHINGTON. Auspicious was the day for us — Momentous with large fate- On which George Washington was born In old Virginia State; He grew so nobly strong and wise, And did his part so well, That millions, in this most bless'd land, In peace and plenty dwell. And every man a free man is, A very king, indeed, Because of Washington's rare faith, When direst was our need; Oh, had he once forsaken then, The cause of liberty. What of our glorious Union now. Reaching from sea to sea? Think you we'd be a nation great. Through all the world renowned, If he had not such patience had? Had not truth his life crowned? No monument can tell how much His splendid valor won. So marvelous was the victory Of General Washington. And now a century's gone by, And more, since he left earth, Not died, for he will never die. Immortal was his birth ; Then he by Providence was led, — Our friend, our President; Beloved, approved, he liveth still. His life with ours is blent. The First Monument to George Washington; AND ONE OF THE MoST BeAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD. "Twas he who made our country great, the homeland of the free ; And so we honor, reverence, praise, and his great name approve, W ho hrst led forth to victory the Xation our souls love." 3Dpl0 anD aDeal0 17 Yes, part of us, forevermore, George Washington will be, 'Twas he who made our country great. The homeland of the free; And so we honor, reverence, praise, And his great name approve, Who first led forth to victory The Nation our souls love. RESURRECTION. storm madly raging, and blowing The white flakes of heaven to earth ! In my heart, too, are chill winds, and snowing, Which covers with white spread hope's birth; But, hid from the winds and the weather, Beneath all the cold and the grief. New life is now gathering together The strength which shall soon bring relief. In a little while earth shall awaken In colors most splendidly fair. Buds will burst, birds will sing, unmistaken Will be joy's new charm in the air; Just as souls, — from the winter of sadness. From places drab colored and bare, — Shall come forth in beauty and gladness. When true-love's bright smile shall appear. 1 feel, yes, I know by the token Of every delight of the earth. Hearts never were made to be broken, — Too precious, indeed, is their worth; A little while joy may be hidden Beneath storms of trouble and pain, But sometime we all shall be bidden To dwell in love's Eden again. i8 imvitatiom of a IBacfielot THE ROAD TO HAPPINESS. Ah, yes, the road to happiness Is sometimes rough and dark, And oft my steps aweary grow, And gruesome sounds I hark ; There's danger on this side and that. There's trouble and distress, But, what are these if, in the end. Your welcome smile shall bless? Like Pilgrim on the Heavenward way, Vain, foolish doubts assail. And want of faith and fearfulness Strive hard to make me fail ; Few seem to care, and no one dares To tell me not to tread Those paths which lead where danger lures,- And still no ill I'll dread. I know, as sure as angels guide, So sure myself, at last. Shall dwell in joy, dear, by your side, As heaven has forecast; The fighting done, and victory won. How doubly sweet the cheer When lonesome hours will come no more. Since always you'll be near. Perhaps I'm not yet wise enough, Nor good enough, indeed. To bide for aye close by yourself. And yet your grace I plead ; For you, dear heart, I'm sure, some time, Will my desire approve, — Beyond the gates of Happiness, Inside the land of Love. aoplg anP 3Deal0 19 Yes, on the road to Happiness, Sometimes my heart may sigh, But what of that, when in the end To yourself I'll draw nigh. And find pure joy and perfect bliss You give unto my soul? What matters, now, how drear's the way, When you, dear, are the goal? THE ROSE SHE GAVE. I wear this rose she gave to me. Just as herself I'd wear, Close to my heart, (as you can see,) It is so wondrous fair; How long its freshness lasts, how sweet The fragrance that it gives! How beautiful and how complete The good therein that lives! And yet, it no pretensions makes. It's just itself — a rose — But, best of roses, for it speaks To me of one who chose It from a bunch of other flowers. And then gave it to me ; That's why my heart with joy it showers, — Why it's most fair to see. No other thing it envieth, O wondrous rose — her rose! Its perfume is life's sweetest breath, Since it, for me, she chose ; Then, from it, may I all good trace, And bliss the most profound; Sweet flower that typifies the grace Which all herself has crowned. 20 3n0piration9! of a TBacftelor LOVE'S CANAAN. I've looked on the Canaan of love today, Tomorrow it shall be mine, Hope's spirit hath whispered the truth divine, And faith shall show me the way; Ay, shall lead, to the land of love, my feet, By ways which I knew not of. Till I reach its vale of blessing so sweet. And rest by the river of love. O'er paths of sorrow and pain I've been led, Till it seemed the way was lost, And I murmured, "O God, too great the cost. Too rugged the road to tread!" But I thank Thee now for the vision rare. From those mountain tops of earth. Because they have taught me, at last, over there. My happiness shall have birth. Ah, then the rough pathway shall be forgot, There hunger and thirst shall be o'er. And I shall be troubled by pain no more. In a place where grief is not, — The land of true-love which my heart hath yearned With a hope that would not die, But always, to Thee, Lord of goodness, turned. Till the land is now near by. Like Moses, I stand just across the way, And I look on its vine clad fields, And I see how the wine of love it yields. Through the eyes of faith today; And soon I shall know that wondrous delight Which Moses never did know. For only his eyes of the land had sight. While into love's Canaan I'll go. aDpl0 anD 3JDeal0 21 LONESOMENESS. It's very sad and lonesome, dear, Now that you've left the city. The streets have never looked so drear. Since of you there's no trace, O, won't you please to come back soon? Because it's such a pity The city should so miss yourself, — It's like another place. The birds sing in "G" minor, (flat,) The tree leaves rustle sadly, The days are always gloomy now, (One time it wasn't so;) Most other folks seem void of wit. While I myself feel badly, I've grown forgetful, and, somehow, The world's just filled with woe. So, won't you please to hurry back. Without delaying longer. Or if you can't come right away. Say that you will come soon; Ah, if you'll but do that, sweetheart, Why then I shall feel stronger, For gloominess will pass away. And things soon get in tune. Dear love, the presence of yourself. Than any tonic's better. While every day you stay away. The city grows more drear; So please come back without delay. Say when in your next letter. Then all the city's noise, I'm sure. Will be one strain of cheer. 22 3n0piration0 of a ISacftelDt HARD TIMES. Yes, Anne and I have fallen out, And everything's awry. My soul is racked with pain and doubt, I've bidden hope, good-bye; The days are chill and filled with gloom, Grief is without alloy, Dark clouds of fear and trouble loom. Where once was clearest joy; The stars above no more appear Faith's beacons, as of old. They used to shine so bright and clear, But, now, they're dim and cold; The very dogs whine at the door Most piteously at night, Lost friendship seeming to deplore; Begging for cheer and light. The leaves have fallen off the trees, Which stand out stark and bare, There is no cheerful hum of bees, No fragrance in the air; Winter, and bitter want are here. As all too well I know, And for each home of happy cheer. There's three of trial and woe. A fair young maid and her sweetheart Were skating on the pond, When they, alas, were torn apart. The brave young lad was drowned ; And then, last night, a house burned down, And two, just newly wed. Were killed outright, and all the town. Is filled with awe and dread. JDpl0 auD 3Deal0 23 So everything is going wrong, No happiness beguiles, Since I no more may be among Those lads on whom she smiles; The sky's a gloomy, leaden grey, The rain falls cold and drear. There's not one bright or happy ray Of comfort now comes near; And even should the sun o'erhead. In all its brightness shine, And all the stones be meat and bread, And all the water wine ; Still would my life continue sad. Since her I may not see, Who used to make my heart so glad That grief seemed not to be. Once strength and courage hope bestowed, Now I am strangely weak. With weariness and sorrow bowed. In vain for peace I seek; For Anne and I have fallen out, And all the world's awry, And filled with gloom and grief and doubt. Since she bade me, "good-bye !" Hard times, they say, have come to stay, I hear it all around. And they grow harder every day. As I, of late, have found; I don't see how folks can be glad, (Though I was — long ago,) For, since I've fallen out with Anne, The whole world's filled with woe. 24 Kn0piration0 of a iBacftelot ONE AUTUMN'S DAY. Her eyes are clear grey, and they have a way That's wondrously witching, I know. For they looked into mine one autumn's day, (It seems such a long time ago,) But I've never forgot, though I tell her not. How strangely delightful they gleamed. How their coming brought such a happy thought, That, ever since, of them I've dreamed. But I'm puzzled to know if it's really so, (As her eyes seemed to say that day,) If I pleased her, too, in that long ago, When she had so little to say ? And was her heart warmed, and, like my own, charmed, (I wonder if that could be true?) Yet was unalarmed, and in nowise harmed, By the waking which, then, it knew ? Her eyes shone so bright with a soft, pure light, How can I forget them, indeed ? While the shimmering gold of her hair that night, To adore her still more my heart bade ; It fell so silken and soft o'er her brow, O'er her brow so smooth and so fair, — The fragrance of it I still smell, I vow, Its purfume was so sweet and rare. Yes, her eyes are grey, and they have a way, That's wondrously, witchingly dear; For, since I looked in them that autumn's day, More and more I have learned to care ; So I look for them, and I long for them, (Such wisdom and peace in them blend,) And I pray that nothing their light shall dim. Are they not the eyes of my friend ! 3Dgl0 anO 3»eal0 25 She's graceful and kind, in body and mind ; And all of herself has, I know. Filled my heart with hope, some day, I shall find She really cares for me, also; Oh, her eyes are so bright with truth's perfect light, And her voice is so sweet alway. That she's never ceased my love to incite Since the eve of that autumn's day. "SINCERELY YOURS." I wonder if it's really so, You are "sincerely mine?" I've often wished 'twas true, I vow, So glad your bright eyes shine, Such pleasing tones has your bless'd voice, Such charm has your hand's touch, — Had I my way you'd be my choice, I can vouch for that much. ''Sincerely yours," I'm glad so clear It's writ above your name. And that you've, also, called me, "dear," Though that gives me no claim. More than a score of other friends To whom the same you write. But, anyway, it rather tends To make me think it might. I am "sincerely yours," I vow, Then won't you answer me So that I'll know, come joy or woe, "Sincerely mine," you'll be; Because, for you always I pine, And never cease to care, — Dear, if you'll be "sincerely mine," Please write once more you are. 26 3n0pitat{on0 of a IBacftelor CELIA. And now that Celia is away Amidst Virginia's vine-clad hills, E'en just the thought of yesterday, (When she was here), with pleasure thrills; For, oh, I'm thinking of her yet ! Bright, truth-lit eyes, soft hair of gold. Their beauty I will ne'er forget, Such wealth of happiness they hold. Always my thoughts unto her lead. And days when first herself I knew. For she's more rarely sweet, indeed. Than is the early morning's dew, — That's why I'm dreaming of her still; As who would not? once having known How wondrously her smile can thrill ? Not I, I am right glad to own. The lines here writ, my heart well knows. Imperfectly express the truth. Because one fair as Celia grows. Hath life divine, unending youth; It must be true, so pure is she. Such souls as hers will live always. And will bless men eternally. As well as God forever praise. Ah, yes, my heart she has entranced. Until of her it is most fond. E'en from the first, I was convinced All other maids she is beyond ; And when, ah, when she shall come back From old Virginia's vine-clad hills. And say she's glad, no good I'll lack, — With such rare joy her presence fills. 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 27 That's why, of God, for her I ask Soul- wealth and joy forevermore; May her life never be a task. But of all good a priceless store ; May love be hers, and bliss most blessed. And friends who will be staunch and true ; Because, as my heart has confessed, No dearer maiden ever grew. A COLLEGE GIRL. She is tres sweet, she is tres dear, She is tres wise and good, And so, of course, it's not tres queer, That love her well I should ; And so I do, say, wouldn't you. If you, somehow, were me? You know her better than I do. So I'm sure you'll agree. But even if you didn't, dear, Or said it wasn't true. Still, in my eyes, she would appear As dear and sweet as you; Yes, much the same I well may claim, Just tres fair and tres sweet. But, "what's her name, or where's her hame," I would not dare repeat. But I suspect that you can guess. And if you do I'll tell. You are so like her, I confess I like you just as well ; For you, also, are tres, tres dear, And tres, tres lovely, too — Almost, indeed, it would appear There's only one of you 2^ 3n0pitation0 of a IBacftelor ADORATION. Beautiful golden hair, like the poets write of, And shall forever. Lovely beyond compare, its glistening sheen I love, It tires me never; There is a halo 'round it, That's caught my heart and bound it, Sweetheart so clever. Beautiful grey-blue eyes, tender and clear and bright, Full of expression. All ill before them flies, shining with truth and light, Free from transgression; O how I love to watch them, And, maybe, sometimes catch them At love's confession! Beautiful mobile mouth, by Cupid bowed, and painted With warm carnation, Fair maiden from the South with every charm acquainted, Dear combination Of all that is the sweetest. And noblest and completest, God's best creation. And I confess all these, (though they are gifts so great,) But hint her spirit, 'Tis that which doth so please, words only, cannot state Anywhere near it ; So, now, her praise Fm singing. And all my love Fm bringing: She, all, doth merit. 3iDpl0 anfl aDeal0 29 I FORGET NOT. Never a day's light dawns on me, Never a day's light ends, But that my thought goes out to you. Before all other friends; The sun's first blush brings to my mind, The color of your cheeks, The sweetness of the morning air, Of your own sweetness speaks. Yes, nature, o'er and o'er, suggests. Some charm in you I've seen. So that I never can forget. How much, to me, you mean ; I never catch a violet's scent, Or look upon a rose. But that they call to mind yourself, fairest flower that grows ! When evening's hours are loveliest. With moonlight and clear skies, I'm thinking, then, of your soft voice, And of your glorious eyes, Of you, who are more lovely far, Than any day or night, That ever gave an artist joy. Or made a poet write . Ay, hills and valleys, trees and stars, And everything that's true And fair, and beautiful, and good, Reminds my heart of you. Although so seldom, now, I look, Upon your darling face; And oftentimes I'm sad, because, 1 miss your gentle grace. 30 Impixatiom of a iSacfielot And yet, fair nights and lovely days, Some comfort to me bring, Since all of them, (being beautiful,) The memory of you sing, Yes, every road I travel, dear, And every dale and hill, Recalls the hours when you were near. My heart with joy to thrill. While hope, within my breast, forbids, That I should cease to care, — Then, tell me you'll not turn away. But ever let me share The goodness of your gentleness. The smiles, dear, of your lips. Your thought fulness and tenderness. From heart to finger tips. You're lovely always, that is why, All things which lovely are. Bring back, like incense sweet and rare, Your kindness from afar, When, just a little girl, you came. And coyly smiled on me, And then forgot, (for someone else,) I'd learned your friend to be. But, I forget not, how could I? When every wind that blows. And every ray of light that shines, And every flower that grows, Brings back, again, the fairest day, On which the sun e'er set, Because it was, the very day. When you and I first met. 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 31 "SIXTEEN." Lucille is dear, and smiles on me, (Though not as ardent as might be,) But, she extends her slender hand, And bids me welcome, somewhat grand. And yet, I think that she is fine. Her voice delights, she looks divine, So that I cannot help but feel Quite interested in Lucille. She's very dignified, indeed. And to mere man pays little heed. But then Lucille is just sixteen, Which I some years ago have seen. And hence I strive to be content, (Though only half her charms are spent To fill my evening with delight. Till, diffident, I say, "good-night!") But, anyway, my dear Lucille, Although you won't your heart reveal. And though you cut me off so short. And of my wish to please make sport, I love to hear and see you so, I still will come till you say, no ! E'en though, to me, you but extend. Of your slim fingers, just the end. Then, when I try to show how I Am grieved to say, to you, ''good-bye !" 'Tis rather hard on me, that you Seem glad to have my visit through, And put off seeing me again. So many days, it would seem plain I do not much, to you, appeal. And yet, I'm glad to come, Lucille. 32 3n0pitation0 of a TSacftelot PEGGY. There is a colleen I'm admiring, With dark hair and Irish blue eyes ; And, O, but her smile is inspiring. And her wit's both gentle and wise ! For blue blood that's gracious and royal, And warm, too, forms of her a part. So that every pulse-beat is loyal : She's "Peggy," my Irish sweetheart. No, she doesn't know that I love her, For I'm just a poor passing bard. And so, howe'er much I approve her. Myself she'd not greatly regard; Far off, though, I do delight in her, And often I dream of her grace. And always I wish I might win her. So winsomely fair is her face. Would I had a magical clover. Or that I'd the blarney stone kissed. It might be, then, that she'd look over The wealth and the fame that I've missed; But as I've not these, I stay lonely, Though, (speaking now under the rose,) I'm thinking, if she'd love me only. And I knew it, I would propose. THE RHYMSTER. Oh, I'm just a maker of verses. While she is a queen of delight, Hence, oft my pen her charm rehearses, For of her I dream day and night; .f^. "For blue blood that's gracious and royal, And warm, too, forms of her a part, So that every pulse beat is loyal ; She's 'Peggy' my Irish sweetheart." aDpl0 anP 3Deal0 33 Fair, she sits in her pew Sabbath morning, I sit in the gallery free, Where I can see herself adorning The seat next which I'd like to be. Yet, all I may do is look at her. But, O, the blest joy of just that. Is, indeed, for myself a great matter, Though sometimes I see but her hat; Till, in praise, her head she upraises. And I behold her face divine; Ah, how my soul God's goodness praises, The light in her eyes to see shine! She is fair, she is dear, she is glorious, A queen every inch of her height, I would that I might be victorious In bringing her heart most delight; But, I'm just a maker of verses, Who sits in the gallery free; Though, oft my pen her charm rehearses. Too seldom she smiles upon me. YOUR NAME. There is a word I've seen and heard Of late, I can't forget. Ah, it's a most bewitching word, Because, — well, what it means has stirred My heart, until it has occured. On what it means my heart is set, — Yes, there's a word I've seen and heard Of late, I can't forget; I won't explain, but you may guess. And, if you do, then, I'll confess. 34 an0piration0 of a ISacfielot APPROVAL. Yes, her eyes lit up with the Hght of love, And her cheeks flushed witching pink, Then how could I not of her grace approve, Who did of her beauty drink? (Ah, she is so graciously, rarely sweet!) Besides, how could I not care For one who so kindly myself did greet. And her bright smiles let me share ! Of a truth I do, she is worth the while. She is fine of soul and mind. In her heart there is naught of selfish guile, And she is sincerely kind, So her friendship I value of priceless worth, And gladly my praise I bring. And offer myself to be hers henceforth. Whose charm and beauty I sing. Oh, she's wondrously fair and truly good, And very gracious to me. So I praise her now, as it's right I should, Praise such great excellency, — Yes, her eyes were bright with the light of love, And her cheeks all flushed with pink. Then how could I not of herself approve, Who did of her beauty drink? THE GATES OF PARADISE. I caught a glimpse, not long ago, Of Paradise, (it's true,) With radiant joy 'twas all aglow, As its gates I gazed through ; BOglg anP SDealg 35 No flowers, nor anything, can grow. On earth, one-half so fair, Or half the happiness bestow Which I discovered there. So wondrous 'twas, it seemed a dream Of exquisite delight. When my eyes caught that fleeting gleam, Of glory glad and bright, As just a moment one rare ray Slipped through those gates divine, And seemed unto my heart to say That such joy might be mine. But can it be, such bliss, to me. Can ever, now, come back. And fill my life with ecstacy Which ne'er again I'll lack? I know not, only this I know, I caught one glimpse, at least. Of how fair Paradise can grow, How much, there, joy's increased. And evermore I shall adore Those gates of truth and love. And evermore pray they'll restore The Eden I've dreamed of. Which my eyes saw, when, that short time, They opened a wee bit, And made my heart know joy sublime In Paradise dwells yet. Ah, gates most beautiful and rare. Within which all good lies, They are, indeed, beyond compare. Since they're my sweetheart's eyes, 36 3n0pitation0 of a Igacfaetor And never, till I enter in, And there with her abide. Can I hope Paradise to win : (And life's so bleak, outside!) THE DAISY. The daisy's just a common flower, That grows wild everywhere, And yet it has a strange, weird power, The loveliest rose can't share; It tells to those who will believe The secret thoughts of love, Nor does it ever hearts deceive. Since it speaks from above. So, three times o'er the mystic words, With awed-hope, I repeated. And, oh, what comfort it affords! My wish was not defeated, — For just exactly twelve times three. It came out with none over, — So she is going to marry me. And always be my lover. Oh, little sweetheart of my own! I'm so glad and delighted, I feel almost like you were won. No more my heart's af righted; Since now I've only got to wait Till love your heart compelleth, Because you will, as sure as fate. Do as the daisy telleth. 3lDpl0 anD 3Deal0 37 IN GOD WE TRUST. Thou, who art God, the one God, the Eternal, Whose grace would bestow every good upon men ; Hearken now to us, make our faith supernal, — Let not our trust be in vain. Send us great harvests of plenty and beauty. Give joy to our households, keep peace in our land; Teach us, with valor, to do our whole duty, Though we may not understand. Ay, though we battle with enemies trait'rous, — By ways which are troubled, we needs must be taught; Unto Thy judgement we'd leave those who hate us, — Make our hearts, ever, love-fraught. Thus, God, whatever of trial, or blessing. It pleases Thy wisdom on us to bestow, We shall grow greater. Thy guidance confessing, — Thou never errest, we know. Lord, we do trust Thee, pray to Thee, adore Thee ; Confessing Thy goodness. Thy majesty, might; Righteous, unsullied, keep us, we implore Thee, Guard Thou our land day and night. ASPIRATIONS. Once your eyes smiled in my own with a wondrous, radiant glow, Such as always I've believed, only those who love can know, Since then I've not ceased to wish I might give you everything That a lover ever hopes to his best beloved to bring; Riches, honor, wealth and fame, gladly at your feet I'd lay, 38 Imvitatiom ot a iBacftelor Or, for your dear sake, sweetheart, all these things I'd throw away, For there is naught that exists, which, in my eyes, can compare With your loveliness and worth, for you death itself I'd dare. Just a smile from your clear eyes, just a warm clasp of your hand. Just a word from your sweet lips, all of my life can command ; All that I shall ever be, all that I can ever give. Is yours for the taking, love, for yourself alone I live; And I'm sure that did you know how my soul adores you, dear. You would be glad that it's so, — you would want me always near; Ah, if you could realize how your presence thrills my heart With an ecstasy of joy, always that joy you'd impart. Yes, there will be joy for you, and there will be joy for me. Through God's gracious providence, in the days that are to be — Listen to His promised word : "V\\ give thee thy heart's desires," And it is your own sweet self that my soul the most requires ; Surely I can see the glow of love's dawning in life's sky. As I think of your fair face, and it tells me day is nigh; Soon, dear, (will it not be soon?) your bright smile shall always bless. For the sun of bliss shall rise when you softly answer, "yes!" 3Dpl0 anD 3iDeal0 39 WON^T YOU SPEAK? Dear love, someway I've learned to think, It still may come to pass. Some day of happiness I'll drink — And you will be the lass Who shall, at length, to my lips press That chalice most divine. Which can hold nothing more or less Than love's own perfect wine. So, now, my heart with faith is filled, Faith which I pray shall grow, Till by its earnestness you're thrilled — O, say it shall be so! You are so wonderfully dear. So beautiful to see, That if your life you'll let me share. Most blest of men I'll be. Yes, in my heart a hope is born, That you'll be glad some day. That, after all, I need not mourn, Because your eyes, clear grey. And tender, too, late looked in mine. And seemed to say — ''believe. To you my heart does now incline ;" How could such eyes deceive? And yet, and yet, my heart's life's breath, I wish you'd say you care, For O, my heart unto me saith, "You are, of maids, most fair;" So won't you, soon, not only look — Speak words of cheer to me; All others, for you, I've forsook — Won't you my sweetheart be ? 40 3n0piratiott0 of a T5acf)elor CHURCH MEDITATION. This is her church, and, too, it's mine, — that great oak door We both have entered oft before; How fair its vine-clad, marble walls, and steeple tall! How calm and still, the moon o'er all! This is the place where she hath learned of God above, Of heaven, and of heavenly love; Dear child, sweet girl, she hath come here for years gone by, In spite of rain or clouded sky. This is the place where first her lips were taught to say, — "Our Father," and to Him pray, — Here she hath oft sung hymns of praise, oft knelt in prayer ; Here, hath brought both her joy and care. This is her church, — how fair to see ! more fair, because, She worships here, here learns God's laws ; Here, too, I've come for comfort, strength, ''sweet hour of prayer," (Most sweet it was when she was there.) Because her feet have trod its aisles, 'tis sacred ground, More so, since here herself I found; The outside, true, is most dear, too, at least to me. Since also she, its grace doth see. By yon moon's light, it hath, this night, my love com- pelled. For hath it not my sweetheart held? This vine-clad church, with slender spires, and marble walls, Which aye, to me, herself recalls. 30pl0 anD 3»eal0 41 Its windows beautiful, indeed, its carpet red, Grace all around, and overhead, And each carved door, from which crowds pour, when church is through. Remind me of her fair self, too. There cometh forth so many folks, just one I see Among them all, and that is she; Then, all the week I dream about two clear grey eyes, Whose glances kind I did surprise. VIOLETS. Sweet violets! what happy flowers they must have been to lay Close to her heart, so pure and warm, and give their life away! How modestly they rested there, how fragrant was their scent ! Their beauty spoke a joyous air of satisfied content. And just as they, to her, gave all, and would have given more. So I, also, gave all I had, because ''her" I adore, They only lived for her dear sake, I can not better do, Or be more wise than they have been, in being, to her, most true. Yes, ever since, sweet violets I've loved for her sweet sake, They made that day with fragrance glad, and now my heart would break. If she should say she did not mean the story that they told. When, to me, she gave part of them, to bid my heart grow bold. 42 3n0pitatipn0 of a ISacfielot LOVE'S ACKNOWLEDGEMENT. My sweetheart, — for you are my sweetheart, though, You never told me so, except it be That eyes speak out, (though words come not so free;) My soul would tell you now, how, long ago. When first I saw your face, there came a glow Into my heart ; O, you're so fair to see ! A hope from which I may not, can not flee. Because I long so much your love to know. O, who can blame the earth that woos the dew? Who wish that flowers would hide their heads from view ? Who'd ask that joy-filled birds sing not out loud? Who can a mother blame for being proud? So you must see, in my heart is no doubt, Since, all I am, doth now my love speak out. AUTUMN. In clumps of rich, rare colors, stand the trees. The fields, with purple asters all are draped, — With goldenrod and morning glories, too; (They have, from beauty's land, just late escaped;) While apples, (gold and red,) and sun-bronzed pears, And brown-capped nuts, in myriads, now abound; Then, here and there, a buzzing bee is seen To rise, and soar above the flower-decked ground. What picture ever was so fair to see. By artist painted, or in words conceived? So bountiful, so beautiful, such harmony, — Could one, who has not known, have e'er believed? But I have seen, and so I know it's true That art is dumb, when Nature's charms we view. aDpl0 anD 3Deal0 43 ELSIE. She of the dark-gray, serious eyes, Whose hair is golden-brown, She who is guileless still, though wise, Whose love will be joy's crown. More rich, indeed, than any crest Of gold and precious stones — He, in whose arms herself shall rest. Will be blest — my heart owns. But, O, (though I'd be well content,) I fear they'll not be mine! Because, 'twould seem, it is not meant I'll know bliss so divine; And yet, my heart will bless her still. So very dear is she, That every thought of her does thrill. Though mine she will not be. Fair maid, to truth and Nature near, And therefore near to heaven. How could she e'er be aught but dear. Whose smile is joy's own leaven? That's why I may not help but writ^ The happiness I'd feel. If she, my yearning could requite, And Cupid's deep wound heal. What happy dreams some of us dream, What blessings nearly reach Unto our hearts? Until, 'twould seem That love is but to teach Our souls to long for things beyond The charm and grace of earth; Thus, Elsie makes my heart beat fond. And long for highest worth. 44 3n0piration0 of a TSathtlot Fair Elsie, womanly always, Angel, yet human, too. How can I help but speak her praise, Whose heart's both warm and true! Although it needs must be that I Am not her best beloved. However much my soul may sigh To be, by her, approved. SAY YOU ARE REAL. Into your eyes I look, my dear. And I forgot all want of cheer. All lack of happiness, for, I Have found all blessing there, O, why May I not, ere I waken, die — And be content; I listen to so sweet a voice. It evermore must be my choice. Where'er I go, who e'er I know; (For I have always found it so, Since first I listened, long ago, To what it meant.) Is it a dream, or is it true, I hear your voice, and I see you? Look up, and speak, and tell me, dear, I am awake, and you are here; Oh, do not, do not disappear, — Heed my appeal! Let me not find I am deceived, Say 'tis no dream, fate has not weaved A mirage to mock my delight. And fill my life again with night; Oh, please do not fade from my sight, — Say you are real! JDpls! anD 3Deal0 45 LOVE IS KING. I have loved her, not unwisely, But, it might seem, all too well, What am I, that she should want to. With me dwell? And yet, why do all things lovely, Of her tell? Soul of mine, be faith-filled, steadfast. True love unto me shall bring More than all the wealth of Indies, — So I sing; I know, some day, she shall bless me. Love is king. A GRAY DAY. Gray is the day without, and gray's my heart within, A drear, drab gray, with weary undertone; Against the window pane — again, again, again, There comes the sound of rain, with weird, sad moan; And yet it is the harbinger of Spring, Of life to be; For, though the day is cold and gray, 'twill bring. Fruit fair to see; Sometime my heart shall cease from being sore, Its Winter leave, — Ah, then I shall be glad, when love no more Will let me grieve! 46 Impimtiom of a igacftelor THE BANKS OF SHENANDOAH. Recall that summer morning's walk, 'Cross heather and through piney wood, O'er hill and dale, — our little talk" As by the clear, cool spring we stood; Think of the skies which you and I Have seen together, — and the stroll Out through the town, which was near by, Up to the college on the knoll; Remember these 'mid other scenes, When far away in time and space. And then recall that it all means We knew each other, such a place; Although, alas, we meet no more Beside the banks of Shenandoah! Recall our ride one autumn morn. How beautiful the day was then, As, 'twixt great fields of ripening corn. We rode with happy hearts, I ken ; Green were the orchards near at hand, While far away, peak after peak Stood out majestically grand Above the gurgling Happy Creek. glorious views of Shenandoah, Through vistas in the mountain chain! Which, every here and there, would show Like links of silver, — and the lane Across fair farms where cattle low, And groups of horses quietly roam; 1 say, sometimes on these bestow A backward look, in years to come, And think of him who still is glad, That once friendship like yours he had ; O lovely land of Shenandoah, Would we two might dwell there once more ! LINES TO RUPERT BROOKE AND ALAN SEEGER. They both passed away 'midst the battle's fray, But were they less noble because of their love For the earth and the sea and the sky above ? Now their bodies lie in the silent grave, Because they were loyal and true and brave; Brothers of mine were they. I wanted to go, but they said, not so. We need young men who are supple and strong, Who can give hard blows, and stay awake long. Whose blood courses fast, and whose eyes are keen. The while Satan's plans to gainsay they mean; So, I must stay — they go. Ay, their hearts were true, and their hands clean, too. And everything lovely they loved on earth, As well as that beauty of greater worth, — The spirituelle, the sublime, the divine; I ken how they felt near the castled Rhine, The sky there is so blue! There they fought and defied the vain king who lied. Till their bodies were lost, other lives to save. Though they loved life's beauty, and not the grave; That's why, far from home, in the land of France, From which to return they had such small chance; Poets, — for truth they died. But each left a name of undying fame. For they both were gentle and noble men, Whose lives were poems, — surpassing, I ken. Even the writings which they left behind ; They loved truth and grace with body and mind, And so our hearts love them. 48 ln0pirationg of a Igacftelot THE CANNONIZATION OF KITTY DEANE. My great-grandfather, long ago, Is said to have been quite a beau, And by his letters I can see, In some respects, he was like me; For he loved maidens wise and good, As I do, and as all men should; Nor does he badly tell, I ween. The love he had for Kitty Deane. With old-time gallantry, he writes To her in whom his heart delights, In words affectionately quaint. Almost he makes her out a saint; Ah, lovers ne'er were loath to tell The reasons why they loved so well ; His verses may, I think, please you. So listen while I read them through. ''My Maryland's sweet maidens are As fair as any in the world, Eastern or Western, near or far. Where England's banner is unfurled, Beneath far India's skies, or in The lands of Spain, the Isles of Greece, Now living, or that e'er have been In days of war, in times of peace. And, Kitty Deane, 'tis so of you, Fair as your face, your mind is bright; Sweet as your smile, your heart is true; While all you do is good and right; And since 'tis so, please, Kitty Deane, May I not bring my fealty now And crown you of all queens, the queen, As to your loveliness I bow ! ^^: Kitty Deane. 'Yet, none the less, artistic still ; Fashions may change ; but goodness will, With grace, delight beholding eyes. In any age, beneath all skies." 3Ogl0 ano aoealg 49 Sweet Kitty Deane, neat Kitty Deane, Always so good and wise and bright, Never unkind, or cross, or mean. No wonder you give such deHght ; But words, I find, cannot express The virtues which in you I see. So quick to please, so glad to bless. Oh, Kitty, listen unto me! I've found out that who'er comes near Is sure to want always to stay. Because you are so sweet and dear, In all you do, in all you say. Ah, Kitty Deane, be always so, — Unselfish, loving, gentle, true, And fragrant as the violets grow. They never can compare with you. With longing my heart contemplates The beauty of your character. And for the time, impatient waits When your soft, "yes," will bliss confer; And your bright smile, su wondrous sweet. Shall make me fully realize That my life you have made complete, In you I've won earth's greatest prize. You, who rule by love's royal power All hearts that in your circle move. Ask of me what you will that hour. My love to show, my faith to prove; I can withhold naught you desire, I will do anything you ask. So much my life you do inspire, Love cannot give too hard a task. 50 in0piration0 of a IBacftelot O, Kitty Deane, do not think ill As these few lines your eyes shall read, But rather say, sweetheart, you will Let them my cause and wishes plead ; Say that you will not turn away. Please let me come and crown you queen, O, Kitty, smile on me, I pray, Because I love you, Kitty Deane." Though long since great-grandfather wrote. These lines to Kitty Deane, I quote, It may be you would like to know If she did have him for a beau? And if he married her, and they Were always happy? So, they say, And I am certain it is true, — And when you've heard, you'll think so too. My mother says, all must agree Great-grandma was most fair to see. And just as good a woman too As ever anybody knew; She was her grandma, so she'd know, Besides great Aunt Kate says it's so. And grandma, — well grandma admits. That every word exactly fits. And grandma also told to me Some of great-grandpa's history. Which he told her about himself, When grandma was a little elf. And sat upon great-grandpa's knee. Quite early in last century; When up in arms arose our nation Against Great Britain's usurpation. He volunteered from Frederick's town. For freedom and his State's renown, He risked his Hfe — and much that meant, For Kitty then had giv'n consent; And only heaven ever knew How hard the parting twixt those two! But she was loyal, he was brave, If needs be, to the very grave. And after he the foe had fought, Returning to his home, he wrought — Seeking by works, as well as love, His faith, and faithfulness to prove, And striving always to prepare A home for her with him to share ; And they were happy, grandma says, Until the ending of their days. Now in her letters I can spell More than the lines she writes so well, vSo plain and clear, and yet no space Is wasted there, but every place Is filled with wisdom and contains An insight that her grace explains ; Her style and manner surely shows Quite as much as the matter does. While in the letters that he wrote. Replying to her own, I note Such gentle love and kindly praise Such clever wit and thoughtful ways, I cannot but believe that he Was good and sweet as well as she; Indeed, in peace and war he proved He lived as nobly as he loved. 3n0pitation0 of a TBacbelor And grandma says, they loved as well Their whole lives through, as words can tell; Because he found that Kitty Deane Was just as his faith had forseen; She says her mother was the best That ever children's children blessed, Though maybe she praised more their good, Blamed less their faults than some folks would. Besides, I've letters which tell me How good it was their hfe to see, Each thoughtful of the other's gain; They shared alike their joy or pain; And never either e'er thought less About the other's happiness. Than on the day when they said, both, ''And thereto I plight thee my troth." She was of medium size and weight, He rather slender, tall and straight, With kindly face and gentle mien. Not an ill match for Kitty Deane ; Though she was younger by some years, (As in the Bible old appears,) And she was musical, while he Wrote poetry, — as you can see. Lovely was she — I've seen her face — The picture's dim, and there's a place A British bayonet cut it through In ''1812," when it was new, Leaving a scar, across the arm. Which, truth to tell, does little harm; It's fixed so skilfully, I'll own But for the tale, 'twould not be known. apglg anP 3Deal0 53 The shapely head and shell-Hke ear, Show taste and tact both quick and clear, The mouth, though tender, speaketh true And gentle firmness showeth too; While soft brown hair, and bright, clear eyes. Her grace and courage emphasize, And show, by contrast, plainer still. Her depth of soul and power of will. The grace and beauty of her pose. The classic brow and well formed nose They say belonged to Kitty Deane, All pictured here, are plainly seen; The chin that shows so happily Her ardour and her constancy, Like all her features, bringeth out Her loveliness beyond a doubt. And her becoming, fit attire — Who could look on and not admire ? A little ''quaint," of course, *'old style," Yet like herself, devoid of guile, But none the less artistic still ; Fashions may change, but goodness will With grace, delight beholding eyes. In any age, beneath all skies. I think with me you will agree. Her hands could scarce more perfect be, And that her ''air" and "attitude," Confirms how fine her every mood; 'Tis plain to see by things like these Why everybody she should please. Why great-grandfather would prefer One who had such a character. 54 Impimtiom of a igacftelor Ah, if we would but comprehend How much on our acts oft depend ! How destinies of nations may Be made by what we do today, And how the traits our Hves have worn, May make or mar Hves yet unborn, Because they shall become heir to The 'Virtues" or the ''faults" we knew! H we beyond the "now" would see. We would more brave and constant be, More strong to do, more wise to live. More careful happiness to give; We would strive characters to make, More wholly perfect for the sake Of those who will, for good or ill. Be guided by our footsteps still. And so it is that Kitty Deane Is living yet, a very queen, In hearts that may not even know How great a debt to her they owe; But none the less, her grace extends Through generations, and defends Her children's children and still shall Of blessings be prophetical. I bless her mem'ry, for I know. That not in vain, long, long ago She lived and loved in Maryland, And with my great-grandpa she planned Such noble hves for those who grew, Blessed by her love, great things to do, And many now are rightly led. By her good traits inherited. BDglg anP aoealg 55 For through their veins now chases keen, The warm, red blood of Kitty Deane ; Indeed, if it were not for her, (The strange thought does to me occur,) I scarcely now myself would be, For Kitty Deane is part of me, And too, I think, a nobler part. So wise was she, so pure of heart. Full much, in truth, I owe this maid. Of whom great-grandpa such things said. Who lived so beautiful a life. And was so wise and true a wife ; Rare Kitty Deane, fair Kitty Deane, I am right glad he crowned you queen; And as to your good fame I bow, I offer, too, my homage now. And 'tis not less, because I've found Another whose life doth abound In virtues, and in graces too, Just like those great-grandmother knew; Indeed, if her charms I should state, I only would reiterate. What has been said of Kitty Deane, , Who was, of happiness, a queen. For I am quite convinced, that she Is just as bright and fair to see. And that her eyes are just as clear, Her voice as musical to hear, Her deeds as good, her ways as right, Her mind as wise; ah! if I might But portray her whom I prefer How beautiful the picture were. 56 Impitutiom of a TBacftelot But I cannot write lines more fit To tell of her, I will admit, Than great-grandfather wrote to tell About the maid he loved so well; In vain IVe sought, in vain I'll seek, For words that can more clearly speak; Words are too feeble to express The whole of ''love" and "loveliness." And now, (it scarcely need be said,) As great-grandpa was captive led By Kitty Deane, long, long ago, I give my heart to this maid, too, Hoping, like Kitty Deane, that she Will bless my life continually, For never will my love abate. But rather always grow more great. And so, some happy future day. Some great-grandchild shall write a lay To this dear girl, whom I adore. This fair, sweet maid of Baltimore, And tell how their great-grandpa, too. Found all that was most blessed and true In their great-grandma, long ago, Then her name, too, all folks shall know. For she's so good, I am apprised, She, also, will be canonized. By all who love the beautiful, The wise and pure and dutiful; I wish I now might give her name. But it's too soon thus to acclaim The glory of her character, — Excepting as I've written here. 3)Dpl0 anD KDealsf 57 LOVE'S XEBEC. In E,^ypt, 'twas, long centuries since, (well, I recall,) When you and I, my fair sweetheart, lived near the sea, That greatest sea in all the world, (it was in Fall,) You were a princess, I, a scribe of poetry; And, O, you were so good and sweet ! a maiden rare As ever 'twas my lot to know, since time began, Pratrician face, and soulful eyes, dark auburn hair; (How could I help but love you dear, being just a man.) Do you remember how, one day, (at early eve,) You went with me down to the quay ? We took a boat. One of those square sail, three-mast ships 'twas, I believe, Which, to the landing, at our call, the captain brought ; I held your slender hand in mine more close that day. As I helped you aboard the ship, (how fair you were,) Somewhat mxore quiet, then, I thought, than was your way, (The sunset was so beautiful across the mere.) And so we sailed, dear, you and I, (how well I know;) Just off the coast of Africa, on that great. sea, O, love, it is so far away and long ago! And yet I never can forget the ecstacy; Love's Xebec bore us, you'll recall, into a port, The fairest 'twas, of any place I've ever seen, In fairyland is seemed, for love, there, held its court, And you were more than princess, then, you were my queen. Dear, I recall, as yesterday, the joyful bliss, The wonderful contentment, then, when our lips met, Though it is centuries, it's true, since that first kiss, — But, O, it was so glorious! I feel it yet; 58 3!i0ptration0 of a Tgacftelot Queer little ship which took us two those waters o'er, I thanked the gods for you that day, in that far land. Who took us to the port of love; O, perfect shore, Of all the ports I've ever seen, most truly grand! Love's Xebec 'twas, in very truth, love's ship of State, That helped me win the dearest maid time ever knew, And yet, perhaps, 'twas not the ship, but only fate, But, anyway, then, I was glad, and so were you. Long centuries, now, it's been, alas! since we two met. Then Egypt in its zenith was, — how well I mind, — How lone I've been, and sorrowful with sad regret. Because, till now, in vain, I've sought yourself to find. OCTOBER. Along the road, the wild grapes dangle high. The woods, illumined. Nature's charms outcry; For 'tis the autumn of a golden 3^ear, In which earth hath been blest with plenty's cheer ; So, now, we worship God with reverence new, — He scattereth such joy the whole world through; And, too, our hearts are glad, because we know. Each year. His grace, on our earth shall bestow The bounty of His wealth, — so that all men May have enough till harvest comes again. Then, shall we not give thanks, (and never cease,) For all the riches, beauty, glory, peace, Which overspreads our land this autumn time. And makes the joy of living grow sublime? So lovely are the fields, the trees, the sky. We view, (the vista through,) as we pass by! 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 59 THE DANCING LESSON. Lucille, I feel a rapture steal, O'er me, almost divine. When, in my arms, you place your charms, And your heart's next to mine. As, through a maze of graceful ways, You teach me how to dance; The while, I think there is no praise Like your approving glance. One slender hand in mine is held, One on my shoulder laid. Yet, not by these am I compelled, (Though they, too, are obeyed,) For there's a spirit, subtler still Than even hands and feet, Y/hich leads me, dancing, where you will, My friend so coyly fleet. Hence, I obey, and go your way. Across the smooth waxed floor. So please take care, since I go where You lead, — ay, more and more, My footsteps want your own to haunt, (I can't but notice this,) For, when you show the way to go, Then dancing is such bliss! And, still, Lucille, I hope you'll feel. My thanks are none the less. Because the charms of 3^our fair arms. And your eyes, I confess. Lead my steps on and on and on, Exactly where you will. And yet, Fm never tired grown. Long as you're near me still. 6o imyimtiom of a TBnthtlot Yes, even more I might admit, And better might obey, But you will guess a little bit, Of what I'd like to say; When close to mine, glows your fair face, And I feel your heart beat. For, then, earth's like another place. Life grows so fair and sweet. TO A ROSE. Vainly art would seek to fashion Anything so wondrous fair. As thyself, O flower must glorious! Scenting all the summer air; But fair flower, oh, how fleeting! Oh, how soon thy blush will pale, And thy beauty be departed ! Oh, how soon thy fragrance fail ! And yet, rose, thou art immortal. For have not the poets told Of those charms, time immemorial, Which thy perfect leaves enfold; And shall not they still be praising Until time shall be no more, Thee, most lovely queen of flowers, Whom the fairies all adore. If not in thyself, another. And another yet, shall take Thy fair form and thy sweet fragrance, And thy fame undying make ; So, thou shalt not be forgotten. Nor fade into nothingness, But in beauty still shall live on Evermore the world to bless. 3Dpl0 anfl 3lieal0 6i THE COURTSHIP. And her eyes softly smiled in his, then, In a way there could be no mistaking, When he realized, never again. In his life, other love should be waking, Quite as dear, quite as loyal and true. Quite as tenderly brave and bewitching. And, intuitively, all his heart knew That her love, all his life, was enriching. And so now, he smiles back, at herself, For since then, he doth always revere her. And he thinks there's no angel or elf, In attractiveness anywhere near her; Since her eyes have looked into his own, That afternoon, late last December, Strangely fast has his love for her grown, — O so sweet is her smile to remember ! She's a painting most lovely, indeed. Of a maiden delightfully charming, An engraving is he, long in need Of true love, to keep coldness from harming A heart which, one time, was all flame. And so, they, that evening, decided, All the happiness, of love, to claim, In a life, evermore, undivided. She looked down from an old-fashioned frame. But, alas ! half the time he was hidden, 'Midst the leaves of a book, and he came Into view, only when he was bidden ; Ah, it seemed, to me, always so sad. That a century before he'd not met her. For, a hundred years, then, he'd been glad; But I'm sure, now, he will not forget her. 62 3tt0piration0 of a OBacftelor O my sweetheart! I wonder if we, Must wait, too, through a century's strictures, Ere you will give your love to me. After we two have both become pictures? Won't you say, you will come right away. Won't you smile your heart, now, into mine, dear, And for unending centuries stay, — If you do, life will, then, grow divine, dear. GOLDENROD. Do you recall that stroll we took. When goldenrod we got? How beautiful it was that day. And how we plucked a lot — And bunched it all together, yes! Because of love or fate. One great bouquet of golden flowers. Which none might separate. Symbolical, (I hope it's true,) Of what our lives shall be. Some day when you have tired grown Of loving two or three. Or maybe four, or even more, — Since now your heart's so full Of life and love, — with but one man Of course it would be dull. But, when at last it shall be so, — Just you, and one besides. Shall gather love in one bouquet, I hope your heart provides. That I shall be that other one. Who gathers love with you, — Like we once gathered goldenrod, When there was just us two. 3Hipl0 anD Mtal$ 63 FROM SEEMING TO SIGHT. I am dreaming of you all the night, dear, I am thinking of you all the day. The consciousness of you makes bright, dear, Every step that I take on life's way; You keep blessing, inspiring, delighting My heart with your charm, more and more, Destroying, indeed, all that's blighting, — Soon Eden itself you'll restore. Yes, you are my Eve, I am certain, Such glad dreams I dream of you nights, And when the day raises night's curtain. You bring to my heart new delights ; Do you wonder I want to stay near you, And always have you for my friend ? That as you cheer me, I would cheer you, And bless all your life till life's end? O you are so really a woman. That sometimes you seem like a wraith, And yet, you're so darlingly human, My heart has in you perfect faith ; That's why I now praise and adore you, , And fonder of you always grow, That's why, my sweetheart, I implore you Will, on me, your heart's love bestow. Ah, yes, I dream of you asleep, dear. And too, I think of you awake. Always my soul braver you keep, dear, Always my life sweeter you make; And so I'll continue still dreaming. And thinking of you day and night, Until, what one time seemed but seeming, Shall change from just seeming to sight. 64 In0piration0 of a ISacbelor FOR SHE'LL NOT BE DENIED. I have three friends of witching grace, And each one's wondrous dear, And quick of wit and fair of face. So each one giveth cheer. And so I love them all, indeed. Since all are worthy love, Ay, any one might fill the need My heart's so conscious of. But, oh, how may I really know Which maid for me is best, And that she will forever grow More precious than the rest? I can't tell now, at least for sure, — So different are they, — Still one, I feel it's true, can cure A/[y heart, so cured 'twill stay. One has brown eyes and gold-brown hair, One's eyes and hair are dark. The third one's eyes and hair are fair. While each one's smile's a spark That sets my heart aglow with love. When with her I'm alone; All, (do you wonder?) I approve. Though I'd be glad for one. Because, whichever one is near, A happiness confers Which makes me feel that she's so dear, Most gladly I'd be hers; Say, what am I to do, ah, me? I know, — they shall decide Which one I'll love best of the three, — For she'll not be denied. a; > o ^ u. »■ OS C w o 3Dplg anP JDealg 65 What woman, who shall truly love, May not her love attain? If her affection she shall prove, Not oft she'll love in vain; For, after all, 'tis woman who Loves with a love so great, That she it is, (is it not true?) Most oft decides man's fate. WHEN NO ONE ELSE IS NEAR. It's ''Margaret, you're beautiful," It's "Margaret, you're dear," That I am saying to myself, When no one else is near ; But when her fair, sweet face I see, Then diffident I'm grown. Although she's all the world to me, — Deep in my heart I own. It's "Margaret, you're glorious. You're darling, you're divine," And so I'd offer unto her All of this heart of mine; But when the fragrance of herself Comes closest, 'tis then I Cannot express my glad content, However hard I try. For, oh, it seems so little I Unto her life could add! That I'm afraid she'd not be pleased Though all myself she had; And so I just can look at her. And, (deep down in my heart,) Wish that I could — she is so dear — All good to her impart. 66 an0piration0 of a TSacftelor so GRACIOUS YOU ARE. my best beloved ! could I make you see The deep, sweet content which you bring to me, — Could I make you listen, and understand How complete, in my sight, you have been planned, — Could I make you know how much I desire To inspire your heart as mine you inspire. With a joy more glad than just happiness, — Then, with your dear love, would you my life bless? Your lot, rich or poor, with mine would you cast? And would you stay with me until the last? Be flesh of me, blood of me, my soul's twin. Each helping the other all good to win? Be breath of me, pulse of me. Eve restored? Be my one great treasure, my sure reward? Then bliss the most blest, most wondrous delight. And peace the most perfect shall us requite. So gracious you are, so wise and so true, The world were well lost could I but win you, With your brave strong soul, and your warm, pure heart ! Then please come quickly, and no more depart! Your spirit's so rare and your body's so fair, With you there's no treasure I can compare, — Ah, your touch, your voice, the glance of your eyes, For me are the gateways to Paradise. So much and so sorely yourself I need, 1 beg you now listen, and my prayer heed ; You who are, of all earth, to me most dear, Let your gracious presence all my life cheer; Oh, would that I could make you see it's so, The stream of all blessing, for me, you flow ! For then you would surely assauge the thirst Which my soul has known since I saw you first. 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 67 ELIZABETH. Elizabeth, I'd love to write Some song your heart to reach, So much my own heart you delight, To me, such joy you teach. By smiles, by words, by what you will, Because, no matter what You do, or say, I am pleased still; How can I love you not? Elizabeth, if you will care, Or care not, still shall I Know, of all maids, you are most fair, And ever for you sigh, As heaven destined I should do, You are so dear to me; Because, Elizabeth, you're you, I render fealty. Elizabeth, somehow, some day, By some charm, or some art. There must, indeed, be some blest way, By which to reach your heart; And so I'm seeking to find it, — Dear sweetheart, if you know, Won't you help, just a little bit, That way, to me, to show. Ah, if you'll care, Elizabeth, I'll never cease to praise. As long as words last, and I've breath, For I'll love you always; But words, alas ! are O, so weak. My longing to express! Dear, won't you hear all-I-am, speak, Striving yourself to bless? 68 3tt0pitation0 of a TBacftelor I MISS YOU SO. Oh, no ! I don't blame you, dear friend, Who have been mine, — but rather I Thank you that once you did extend Your confidence without alloy; I know your heart was glad those days, (So much I loved to be with you,) Then you would smile, pleased with the praise Your beauty from my heart outdrew. But, I do miss you, dear, although 'Twould seem that you've forgotten, quite, You once loved me — and told me so — Nay, not in words, yet, I am right; For you were glad when I was near, (One time I'm certain that you were,) Your very presence gave such cheer, I could not but yourself prefer. Alas, now you have angry grown. And turned away, — yet, truth to tell. You do me wrong, — I am undone Through no fault of my own, — ah, well I'll not complain, because, once, I, By you were praised, you were ''my friend," "God bless you," dear, that means, "good-bye!" Yet, I shall care unto life's end. Yes, I miss you, of course, I do, To me you always were so kind, (It must be so, since you were you,) And I was not to your grace blind; But, now that you have turned away. And I may neither hear, nor see, Nor talk to you in the old way, — Sweetheart, how could it different be? I miss you so. 3Hipl0 anD 3Deal0 69 SINCE SHE IS COME. Now she is come, of whom I've dreamed so long, And thought about, and written of in song, — My ideal, true and beautiful and good. Who is the acme, too, of every mood That's filled with tenderness and joy and love; In her I most delight, of her approve, Since she is all I've longed for, and desired, — All that affection sought or truth required. What Eve to Adam was, long, long ago, What Rachel unto Jacob was, I know She is to me — yes, it is really true, She's all that Ruth to Boaz ever grew; So fair and good, so perfect she has proved, My heart with fondest fondness she has moved; So, now, for her I live, for her alone. Who is, by heaven's decree, my very own. No words can ever tell the wondrous grace Of all her charms, the beauty of her face; The wisdom of her heart, so pure and true, In things she does, and those she does not do; All these, and every thought and way of hers. My soul adores, my mind the most prefers, Because she always was, and is, I know. And always shall be mine, as I am hers, also. Now that she's come, and smiled back smile for smile, And I have seen her heart — free from all guile — Look through the dearest eyes that ever were Upon this earth, (since they are part of her,) And heard her voice, (the loveliest, I'm sure. That ere passed human lips, it is so pure;) 70 3n0pitation0 of a TSacftelor I am so glad, — so much her charms do bless, — I strive in vain to voice my happiness. For after all, no one can ever tell The wonder and the grace where love doth dwell, — So that some other heart can understand, — Unless they, too, have loved, and love command ; Sorrow and pain and trial we all must bear, But love sublime, alas, all may not share; So I'm most blest of men, since she is come, Who, to my life, means joy and peace and home. LIFE'S JOURNEY. Life here is a voyage — a journey — A lone path — a crowded highway, On which we must keep always going. As long as on this earth we stay; And while we go on, we must carry Our human needs, by day and night. Until we shall reach Heaven's harbor And step on the shores of delight. True, the Master may ease the burden. And hope may brighten the road, And faith may point out the pathway Which leads the most quickly to God; But our own backs must bear the burden And our own feet must tread the way. For no one else can live life for us. Or can, for us, God's will obey. Aye, every one of us, being human, Must carry our own load, indeed. No matter how great or how weighty Or pitiful may be our need; 3Dpl0 anP 3Dealg 71 And not only so, but a battle, A strife, and a struggle, is life. Yet, thus we are strengthened, developed. And fitted for joy without grief. For after the brave sacrificing. And after the work and the war. And after the cross and the burden. We see, looming up from afar. At the end of life's steep, rugged pathway, Which seemed to us so rough and long. The gates of that beautiful city Where dwelleth all gladness and song. Having grown pure and perfect through sorrow, And weariness and pain, we know At last through love's gates to God's glory (By the way of the Christ) we shall go; And the road, (after all, not all desert,) Shall end in our heavenly home. In a country where grief is unheard of. For God's kingdom then shall have come. ABSENCE. Perfect azure's the sky, the clouds' softest grey. Most truly the day's wondrous fine. But, you, alas! from me, are so far away. Drab colored is this heart of mine; For I can't see yourself, I can only see The charm of the ambient air, And the place, near my side, where you ought to be, — For, then, everything would be fair. Fragrant flowers and fresh fruits scent the atmosphere, To and fro thrush and robin fly 72 Impimtiom of a osacftelot From tree top to tree top, — with glad songs they cheer Each other, and they never sigh ; Yet it's true, none the less, that my heart is sad, I am lonely and weary, too. In spite of all Nature being happy and glad, — For still my heart's longing, — for you. There's a rare, sweet charm in the atmosphere, Perfect azure's the sky, fair's the day, Joyful birds overflow with songs of glad cheer, Each singing its loveliest lay; And, yet, O my darling! I'm not satisfied, Since all my heart's yearning for you, — To hear you, caress you, aye, with you abide The years of eternity through. SOLACE. Each day, as on the busy street, I hasten here and there, Full many kinds of trial I meet, And many kinds of care; Mistakes which I myself have made. Of peace may be the thief, — Sad trouble follows like a shade. And night brings small relief. Deep, knotty problems, hard to solve, Annoy, delay, perplex. Wrongs 'round about my life revolve, Which tire and pain and vex; But, in my heart, one little space Is filled with hope and praise, — For there I have enshrined the face Of her I'll love always. 3Dpl0 anD aDeal0 73 THE VISIT. Beneath great overhanging elms, Along a country lane, Beside which runs a babbling brook, I gladly take my way To where a vine-clad cottage stands. Which calls me not in vain. Since therein dwells a maiden fair, — More fair than words can say. She's pure of heart — as her face shows — With sweet voice and clear eyes, And every other way she's fair As any maid can be. And so I walk the old slate path, Which by the roadway lies, With eager hope, soon, in her home, Her dear self I shall see. Right happy it will make my heart. To take her by surprise ; In any way, indeed, to find That she is waiting there, — Alas, she may not wait, it's true ! How sad to realize, — Since, near herself, I'm, oh, so glad! She is so sweet and fair. I'm loath to leave, although the sky Is lit by stars most bright, And though the country's beautiful Along that peaceful lane; Slow I walk back, 'neath those great elms, That perfect summer's night, Already dreaming of the hour She bade me come again. 74 impitatiom of a iSacftelor LOVE'S RED ROSE. Yes, this rose she sent to me, Leaves still green and petals red. This blue ribbon, (as you see,) Still holds fast the words she said; You can read them on the card, — Certainly they're very kind; Altogether, my reward Is not little, — well, I mind! Rose, ah, rose, if you could speak. Would you tell me more, or less ? Would you make me bold, or meek ? Would your tale dismay, or bless? I'm inclined to think that you. Since you came without duress. Would say, (what I'm sure is true,) She had no thought to distress. So I'm well pleased, (as I've said,) And I wish she'd send some more, Of an even deeper red. For red roses I adore ; And of all the kinds I know, None as fragrant quite can be. As the kind she doth bestow. Or once did bestow on me. It was summer, I recall, When, to me, this red rose came, — Now that it is late in fall. Does she still feel just the same? How am I to know, unless. She shall send a rose again? Then, ah, then I may confess. What, to me, a rose can mean. aoglg anP HOealg 75 For she is, (so my heart says,) LoveHer than any rose. More deserving of all praise, — She's the rarest flower that grows ; That is why it is that I, Hope that sometime soon she'll send That for which my heart doth sigh, — What the red rose doth portend. THE GOWN. O soft white frock with sash of gold! Made just to hold my lady tender; How much I wish my arms might fold, — Close as you will, — her waist so slender; For she's as dainty as she's dear, In whatsoever garb she dresses. But, in your white and gold, it's clear She'll be divine, my heart confesses. So, now, I'm going to write and ask. That when she wears you she will tell me, And in your radiance let me bask. E'en though her charms will then compel me To try and tell how fair she grows , How dear she is, and how delightful; Already, though, I think she knows I bring her homage true and rightful. O 3oft white frock with sash of gold! I must admit it pleased me greatly The beauty of you to behold. When first she showed you so sedately; But, now, I'm hoping, soon, indeed. My eyes shall see her wearing of you; Ah, then, for words, there'll be no need, For she will see why most I love you. 76 Impimtiom of a iSacftelot GRETCHEN. Someone has taken away my heart, And, oh, I can not find it ! But that is not the hardest part — They left an ache behind it ; A pain which I can scarce endure, A gap which nothing closes, A wound no skill now seems to cure, Which hope, thus far, proposes. I think 'twas Gretchen stole my heart. For w^hen I see or hear her. It seems to come back with a start, And stay long as I'm near her ; But, sure as she shall disappear, Its warmth and joy both leave me. And in their place, comes want of cheer, And everything to grieve me. If aught else had the same effect, I might not thus locate it. And this assumption I'd reject. Or hesitate to state it; But now it surely seems to me. Fair Gretchen is the sinner. And that there's but one remedy, — Which is, in truth, to win her. For my heart's grown of Gretchen part. Hence, severing it, would kill it. While this sore place, which held my heart, Might heal if she would fill it; Yes, Gretchen's charmed my heart away, No longer can I doubt it, But if, for it, with hers she'll pay, I'll say no more about it. 3Dpl0 anD 3Deal0 ^y THEIR ABSENCE IS SUCH WOE. "Your bright eyes haunt me still," how true, How like that long ago. When some one wrote, because he knew That woe which, now, I know; But she is gone of whom he spake, While you, dear heart, are here. My soul to happiness to wake, To fill my life with cheer. And so you do when I'm with you, For then your eyes haunt not, Rather, it's true, hope they renew. And all fear is forgot; They only haunt when you're away, For then I am distressed, — Ay, every day's a dreary day, When by them Fm not blessed. That's why, sweetheart, when you're not near, ''Your bright eyes haunt me still," They are so wondrous kind and clear. With dreams of bliss they thrill; That's why their absence I deplore. Their inspiration seek, They hold of joy so great a store, All they mean I can't speak. Ah, ye ^V I / * *^^ <\ V „ « „ V* • • * ^'^ .^ ...o^ • .^' v.^r^'. c .V j-°-n#.. ^^ *. *^ .0 0' '^d : 4 o A <^. , V s . . , -^