LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 S|ap. - ©np^ng^ f n 
 
 ,slielf..t^.a?Vs 
 VS^SO 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1880, 
 
 By Ltvi F. Bauder, 
 
 IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON, D. C. 
 
i]srt)EX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 'Tis Weary Waiting for a Blow that is to Fall, 7 
 
 Inquietude, 
 
 Plantain Leaves, 
 
 The Ending of the Drouth, 13 
 
 The Little Ones, 15 
 
 The Right Flank at Lookout, 16 
 
 Shade Tree and Flower, 19 
 
 A Reverie, > gO 
 
 Constantine, 21 
 
 Poverty's Pride, " 24 
 
 The Traveler, 25 
 
 Only a Clover Leaf, 27 
 
 Stellaria, 
 
 The Lord Hath Need of Thee, 
 
 The Phantom Regiment, 
 
 The Wrecking of the Omar, 
 
 John Selden's Thanksgiving, 34 
 
 Tit for Tat, 
 
 The Old Year's Burial, 42 
 
 Launched on Friday, 44 
 
 The Day of Rest, 46 
 
 The Centennial of the Flag, 48 
 
 Chanticleer, 52 
 
'TIS WEARY WAITING FOR A BLOW 
 THAT IS TO FALL" 
 
 For the dreaded verdict watching 
 
 As the night hours slowly roll. 
 Sits the prisoner pale and shrinking, 
 
 Lest the iron reach his soul; 
 With his heart's-hlood quick pulsating. 
 
 Listening for the sheriff's call— 
 **Oh, 'tis weary, weary waiting, 
 
 For a blow that is to faU!" 
 
 So each life hath its own terrors, 
 
 Hours of voiceless agonies, 
 Lest its guarded secret errors 
 
 Smite us till our honor dies. 
 Culprits all, we are mercy craving. 
 
 But as judges merciless all, 
 Guiltily we all are waitijig 
 
 For a blow that ought to fall. 
 
PLANTAIN LEAVES, 
 
 MonioryV l^nge witli sorrows l)ristlos, l)iit our joys 
 
 iimioted pass, 
 As in tit'lds we view the thistles, but regardless tread 
 
 the grass. 
 On the horizon every glimmer gilds the shadows of 
 
 the West, 
 All seem sunsets growing dinuner, none are dawn- 
 
 ings of the East. 
 We remember that which threatens, till at last a host 
 
 with spear8 
 ^rarehes down life's dusty roadway till our hearts 
 
 grow taint with fears, 
 And the happy hours of memory seem but mile- 
 stones on oiu" route, 
 For a single day of anguish blots a j^ear of pleasure 
 
 out. 
 War-wounds heal and are forgotten, yet in storms 
 
 they t\\ inge with pain ; 
 Ileart-wounds heal not, and, though dormant, open 
 
 in our dreams again. 
 Ye may weld the splintered jirmor, l)ut the broken 
 
 Join ye must witli baser metal — and 'tis thence a 
 
 blemished thing. 
 After tlames in Xorthern forests have assailed the 
 
 trees and ^ines, 
 And have swept to common ruin all their ranks of 
 
 stately pines, 
 Xevermore where reigned the monarchs springs again 
 
 that noble race, 
 (2) 9 
 
But tlirough aslies of tlio fjillen, moaner g-rowtlis tlie 
 
 pines displace — 
 So tlie heart, wlien seared witli trouble, thouoJi the 
 
 cinders bleak and bare, 
 Soon are hid by newer upgrowtli — ever knows the 
 
 ruin there. 
 
 Else than home-born, all our pleasures prove our 
 
 traitors in our needs. 
 All our treasures of exotics in their native climes are 
 
 weeds. 
 Ever}' 5'ear the healing plantain near (?ach dwelling 
 
 springs again. 
 And each day we tread upon it, till we need it in 
 
 our pain. 
 Art thou wounded, O, my brother I stricken, and no 
 
 comrade nigh, 
 Xone to staunch the trickling life-blood — none to 
 
 heed thy feeble cry? 
 In despair art drooping prostrate, while thy hot brain 
 
 whirls around 
 As a bird with broken pinion reels in circles to the 
 
 ground ? 
 Let me bring thee leaves of plantain, and afar from 
 
 scenes of strife. 
 Let me, with rude phrase, love-tutored, gently woo 
 
 thee back to life. 
 Friends are might>', love is mightier, and though 
 
 gold-bought skill is much, 
 Oft the wound to science stubborn yields to love's 
 
 maonietic touch. 
 
 Dost remember of the war-time, wlien we reached 
 
 the smoke-veiled front, 
 ITow the few men for the many ])ore the battle's 
 
 hottest brunt"? 
 Xcvcr onward pressed the victors — while belnnd 
 
 them Avhere they bled, 
 
 10 
 
('ofliiM'd ill their criiiisoiicd hl.-iiikcts, lay the battle 
 
 lines of (lead- 
 But the faint-heart comrades tlyiiij^', reaiwaid by the 
 
 battk^ to.sse(l, 
 Spake with falteiin«»; toni::ties their witness of another 
 
 battle lost. 
 Didst thou halt to inourn the lost ones, whilst the 
 
 fight was yet unwon — 
 ("anst thou deem thy life a l)unlen whilst a duty is 
 
 undone? 
 Dost thou count thy life a victory only by thy hoard- 
 ed spoily 
 For the minted gold is precious only as the gauge of 
 
 toil. 
 Canst thou not in years hereafter grant to men some 
 
 little boonV 
 All the year a' bramble only is the rose-tree save in 
 
 June. 
 Say not that thy heart is broken — none can broken 
 
 hearts restore, 
 Lost love is a mirror, shattered — broken once, is ever 
 
 more ? 
 
 If an angel seeking i-herubs take thy loved one from 
 
 thy ])reast. 
 Blest art thou if, imrei)ining, thou canst yield to God 
 
 thy best; 
 And 'tis sadly sweet to i)onder that a saint in hourly 
 
 pray(>r, 
 Knowing all thy guardless frailties, intercedes for 
 
 father there. 
 Soon a tlush of chastened gladness shall pervade thy 
 
 wintry woe. 
 As at times the peach-tree l)lossoms blush in fields 
 
 all white with snow ; 
 For each star that sinks another rises in the eastern 
 
 heaven : 
 
For each treasure tliat He taketh, is to us another 
 iriven. 
 
 Though thj^ hands perforce be idle and thy little 
 
 hoard may t;iil, 
 Hope, for through the deepening darkness thou shalt 
 
 coming succor hail; 
 IJke the master of the steamship lured to stranding 
 
 in the night — 
 AVhile he dreads the unseen danger, while he yearns 
 
 for morning's light — 
 Sees the tremulous Aurora o'er the curving shore- 
 line play, 
 And beneath the bright Corona, frees himself and 
 
 sails away. 
 But he recks not that the whalers, frozen in the 
 
 Xorthern Sea, 
 Know for months no other twilight than the one that 
 
 sets him free. 
 O, ma3^st thou remember, ])rother, when thy bark be 
 
 cast ashore, 
 Though the storm waves bruise thee sorely, others 
 
 may be suffering more. 
 Only where hath lain the snow-shroud doth the grain 
 
 in summer grow; 
 (July where hath reigned the Ice King do the fruited 
 
 orchards glow. 
 Bear thy troubles: they, though bitter, yield thee 
 
 strength for pleasure's loss; 
 In no plant doth lurk a poison if its jictals form a 
 
 cross. 
 
THE ENDING OF THE DROUTH. 
 
 Througli tlie bliio pall of imiitrciit smoke that spake 
 Of grand old forests doomed, the August sun 
 Shone red and lutiless; and the torrid air 
 Crept from the dewless South with shriveling breath. 
 The drouth had eome, and like a devil-tish 
 Around all life had wound its tentaeles. 
 The leaves hung limp and sapless on the trees; 
 The brooks had vanished, and the thirsty birds 
 Hopped on the dusty shales in search of pools. 
 All songs were stilled, and hidden in the shades 
 Like starving troops besieged, with straining eyes, 
 All looked for faintest signs of help to eome. 
 
 From Koekp()rt\< bluffs, while slowly waned the day 
 I gazed upon Lake Erie. Almost calm, 
 In lights and shades the undulating sea 
 Played with the angles of the. eaverned elitis, 
 And kissed the bones of. vessels they had slain. 
 While here and there the little widening rings 
 Marked where had sprung the tishes on their prey. 
 The noiseless ripples, curved in sinuous folds, 
 Caressed the pebbled beach; and on the bluff" 
 The air in faintest motion fanned the leaves 
 In lazy cadence. 
 
 Like lunnming-birds about the honeyed flowers. 
 The sun-l)eams paused and darted through the leave; 
 And flecked the shadows slumbering on the ground. 
 Like a golden roadway to a gate of Heaven, 
 A path of light shone glittering from the sun, 
 And with her sails all spread a bark becalmed 
 Lay idly drifting like a drowsy swan. 
 
 13 
 
Grai'cd with a coronet of sk'nder spires 
 The distant eity a strange silence kept. 
 Relieved, not l)roken, by taint hum of bells. 
 
 Tlie sun was sinking, and it almost seemed 
 As though a noble nian-of-war there burneil 
 Her magazine exploding I 
 
 I heard a distant rumble in the VVest, 
 I saw a checkered rufHing of the lake. 
 Like titful winil- waves on great tields of grain. 
 The air grew stifling, but I seemed to see 
 The languid maples (luieken with new life, 
 As when the bison, driven bj' the flames, 
 Scents in the air the distant, unseen stream. 
 I felt the new air chill my feverish brow. 
 And saw the saplings bending as in ])rayer. 
 As heralded by clouds of dust and leaves, 
 A. rushing whirlwind, like a giant top, 
 Impetuously went spinning through the fields. 
 
 AVith sweeping ciu-ve the stately storm advanced : 
 From rolling clouds through ranks of cohnnned mists, 
 A few great rain-drops plashed the twisting leaves; 
 Then, falling fast in long diagonals, 
 The rain came down in steel-like points of light, 
 As though the clouds were angry with the earth 
 And shot forth needles. 
 
 How the thirsty leaves 
 And arid earth drank in the welcome drops I 
 How merrily they pattered on the lake 
 In haste to kiss their mother, and her cheek 
 Was dimpled with a tliousand juiswering smiles. 
 
 Then came a flash, a startling, crackling crash, 
 A shock, an odor I How the fiery bolts 
 Did twist among the clouds like writhing snake.> 
 Now like hot chains, and bayonets, and then 
 Like old Hebraic characters — with noise, 
 u 
 
Xow like a illlcd-c.'iniioirs crack, and tlicii 
 TJke sicuc t^iiiis tired by l)att('rv ; and \\\o, KOiind 
 Would roll and jolt and stnnil)l«' on the clouds, 
 And slowly die in rnnihlcs in the South. 
 
 Aud when next morn the sun had risen, he shono 
 I'pon a miraelo — a new-born world, 
 And diini)les danced upon our wrinkles' oraves. 
 The rudely-wakened waves were still em-atjed, 
 And i)lun«:;ino: on the rocks were hurst in sjjray 
 That, falling- hack, was ui>war(l hurled again 
 By quick succeeding surges; while the gulls 
 With nierrv antics skinuned the furroM-ed lake. 
 
 THE LITTLE ONES. 
 
 The weak may be strong, the mighty be weak; 
 
 The oak may be hollow, supporting the vine; 
 The tree may totter when hurricanes shriek. 
 
 And be saved by the tendrils that brace as they twine. 
 
 Xo tree dare show leaf when the snow-drops bloom, 
 A giant might tlinch where a mother would tight; 
 
 'Tis the spirit that dares brave a martyr's doom. 
 For no valor the tlesh hath, though grand l)e its might. 
 
 In my strength I am weak when temptations assail, 
 And I tlee to my liome from the gathering storm ; 
 
 And while there I am safe, though mj- faint-heart may (piail, 
 For mv circle of little ones shields me from harm. 
 
 For their weak little arms are strong for the right, 
 And tempters abashed to their darkness will hie: 
 
 As the hawk will retreat from the swallow's swift flight. 
 As the eagle will from the (piick king-bird fly. 
 
 15 
 
THE RIGHT FLANK AT LOOKOUT. 
 
 Chattanooga sent Xorthward a cry of distress, 
 
 For the men of the Cumberland, famished and gaunt, 
 Worn with fighting and vigils and tattered in dress, 
 
 Manned their guns in the trenches in peril and want; 
 For the foe closely pressed tliem in hostile arraj', 
 
 And their guns shrieked and thundered in demon-like glee, 
 While Old Lookout's rock front, lined with soldiers in graj'. 
 
 Threw its shadows of death o'er the blue Tennessee. 
 
 But on wings of the lightning that cry for help flew. 
 
 To Sherman, to Meade, and from captain to man; 
 And from Vicksburg marched Sherman's long columns in blue ; 
 
 And grim Hooker's tried corps, from the swift Rapidan, 
 Came with bread for the famished, with lead for the foe. 
 
 Gleamed Wauhatchie's sweet vale with their bayonets bright ; 
 Torn and l)leeding, the ferry guards reeled at their blow, 
 
 And dismayed up the mountain side fled in aff'right. 
 
 But the Bar flag still flaunted on Lookout's high peak, 
 
 In defiance above the bright Stripes in the ^ale ; 
 And the iron shells hurtling with insolent shriek, 
 
 Scarred the great antlered oaks in that beautiful dale. 
 In the night, lines of watch-fires on Lookout's side. 
 
 Gleamed like comets bespangling the eastern skj-, 
 While the shouts from the heiglits in derision defied ' 
 
 The threatened assault for the masterv. 
 
 Through the fog shroud, no bugle call echoed that morn 
 From the hills in the vale, or the mount's rocky side, 
 
 But swift couriers silently mounted to ride 
 In the darkness, tli rough thicket and stubble of corn, 
 
 16 
 
To tln' camps: and l)attali<)ns, in whispcrinii- tones, 
 Ilcani, and fell into ranks witli accontrcnKMits l)ni;ht ; 
 
 And the strappinji; of knapsacks, and loading- of guns, 
 Si)oke of niarchino; and battle at dawn of the light. 
 
 'I'hrongli the mist moves tlie long, silent column, now 
 
 Like a giant snake nearing its dreaming prey. 
 Fast asleep in their huts on the mountain's brow. 
 
 And no glitter or sound does tlie peril betray. 
 Hear ye thatV On the left flank the signal guns crash, 
 
 Xow the pieket shots patter, the batteries boom I 
 On the right, the troops over the mill-dam dash, 
 
 Unseen and nidieard in the mountain-side's gloom. 
 
 Forward tlie Right Flank I but tire not a gun, 
 Dou1)le-quiek, double-quick, now on the run I 
 Gibraltar is ours if we tirst reach the top; 
 A year more of war if they force us to stop ! 
 On, on, for your comrades famish for bread; 
 Forward, for Knoxville still trembles with dread I 
 Ui) — over brusliwood and rock and ravine, 
 Routing the pickets from watch- tire and screen, 
 Hindered by laurel-bush, cane-brake and log. 
 Still firing no shot, but through the dense fog, 
 Breathless, but desperate, upward we climb, 
 For victory hinges on moments of time. 
 Up, to the precipice guarding the toj), 
 Xot till they reach the great wall do they stoi); 
 Then, forming in battle-line, onward they sweep 
 Along the great slope of the mountain's scarred steeji. 
 Still onward, like fox-hounds freed from the leash, 
 Though the quick bullets thud in the quivering tlesh — 
 Onward they fight — till a glance of the siui 
 Bathes with glory the flags on a battle-field won. 
 
 And the Cum])erland army, in breathless suspense, 
 Heard the battle's fierce roar in the fog-cloud dense: 
 
 ( 3 ) s IT 
 
Xow clearer — now fainter — now waver — now stop. 
 Repnlsed? Or held Hooker, in triumph, the top? 
 Weak yet with fastino-, hut with eyes tlashing fi^ht, 
 They watehed long in vain that niist-niantled height, 
 Till a rift in the cloud showed the mountain top's erag. 
 And, like Constantine's cross, in the sky gleamed a flag I 
 But which? Ah, the shout that along the line flew, 
 xVs it showed first the Stripes, then the Star-sprinkled Blue I 
 
 'Twas a tale of sweet love that torn hanner there told, 
 Like the Star in the East in Bethlehem Old; 
 'Twas an emhlem of hope to that suffering host. 
 Like the Star of the North to the mariner lost; 
 'Twas a signal of faith, like the beacon's bright light. 
 Safely guiding the ship to the harbor at night; 
 'Twas a sceptre of power, as upheld on the heights, 
 It unfurled its silk folds in the sight of six States; 
 A forerunner of vengeance to enemies all, 
 Like the writing of old on the king's palace w^all; 
 And from that day to this, that dear Flag of the Free 
 To the walls of Atlanta, and thence to the sea. 
 To the fields where surrendered the columns of Lee, 
 Ever fluttered in triumph. May God in His might 
 Ever keep the Old Flag in the pathway of right. 
 
 ^^:iP=^^'=^i==:L^ 
 
SHADE TREE AND FLOWER. 
 
 One c-oUl fveninjr I hoard a (jUK-k tapijiii^ — 
 
 At the door an old mendicant stood : 
 Straio^ht I .-ijiw lie was f«*ehl»' and wearj-. 
 
 As he l)egged for a morsel of fcKxl. 
 So I gave his white liairs a warm weleome. 
 
 And he hobbled the tlireshold across. 
 Bent like trees by some tar sonthern river. 
 
 With their long beards of swinging gray moi^s. 
 
 "A sweet flower I saw in your window. 
 
 Then I knew that a warm heart dwelt here: 
 And your maple trees whisjiered of shelter. 
 
 And they told me to knock without fear. 
 For a welcome would surely await me 
 
 Should I knock at your vine-arbored door. 
 For who loveth a llower and a shade tree 
 
 Hath a place in his heart for the poor." 
 
 ^'Though I've often begged bread for my supper. 
 
 And have oft slept in charity's bed. 
 Yet I know more of joy than of sorrow. 
 
 For though poor. I'm not friendless," he said. 
 •For no rock is so bleak and forbidding 
 
 But some lichens will cling to its side. 
 And a wreck is enwreathed with sea-weeds 
 
 As, half-sunken, it drifts in the tide." 
 
 "I have friends in each >-illage and hamlet, 
 
 Though their faces I never may see : 
 But they know not that shade trees and flow'r IxhU 
 
 Have a language of welcome for me ; 
 And a plant in the house in the winter 
 
 Speaks to me of a heart that is warm. 
 As a light that is lett in the window 
 
 SiK*aks to loved ones abroad in a storm.' 
 
•All, ]»leak is the iiioiiiit that is treelcir 
 
 Tis a desert tliat niiitn 
 
 Hi. 
 
 [•es no see( 
 And I know then Avlien good soil is lifeless. 
 
 That its owner is heartless indeed." 
 Then the wise old man w hisi)ered a seeret 
 
 For my kindness that bleak, wintry hour : 
 'Shun the man who ne'er planteth a .shade tree. 
 
 And the woman who ^jrows not a flower." 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 The tlay is done : another page is written 
 In Heaven's great book of good and evil deeds, 
 A farewell gun hatli from the fortress thundered, 
 A requiem hynni hath tinkled from the chimes. 
 Xight's great black cone the sleeping world hath 
 
 tented, 
 And, circled round, gleam stellar sentry tir(\s — 
 And all is still, as like the silent river— 
 The velvet-footed hours glide quickly on. 
 A day is done: another drop hath fallen 
 Into the ocean of eternity. 
 
 A year is done: a dimple hath departed, 
 And on its grave a new-born wrinkle fro\\ns; 
 A smile hath died, for, severed from life's neck- 
 lace, 
 A precious pearl we under foot have crushed. 
 An icy touch a youthful hair hath silvered 
 To mark our march toward the winter time. 
 In chambered caves, on alabastrian colunms, 
 Another tilm of purest white hath formed. 
 And through the snow drifts come with noiseless 
 
 foot 'ftills 
 Dim phantoms, bearing to its place a stone. 
 A year is done — another block is bedded 
 In the nntiuished pyramid of time. 
 
 •2(\ 
 
C 01^ ST ANT IN E. 
 
 Stealthily tiviuling cainpward from a scout. 
 
 Alert but weary, sat I down to rest. 
 1 saw the trumpet-ereeper's blossoms pout. 
 
 As from a neighboring hilloek's Iwsky crest 
 'lliere crept a grateful fragrance. Thence I strode 
 
 To add a wreath of jasmine to my load 
 To cheer a wounded conu-ade. There 1 saw 
 
 Two woodl)ines holding in tlieir sinewy arms 
 A toppling house, shell-shattered, and, akin to awe, 
 
 1 viewed these veterans of a cycle's storms 
 Kissing and comforting with fragrant breatli 
 
 Their life-long friend now sinking to its death. 
 
 Within this war-wrecked home, whence all had fleil, 
 
 A mildewed l)Ook I foiuid, imbrowned with years. 
 Soiled by the thum])s of generations dead: 
 
 And as the sweetbriar through the rocks uprears 
 Its odorous blooms, so from the Saxon words, 
 
 Rough-edged as spear-tlints, keen as points of sword,> 
 Uprose this legend: 
 
 Constantine the Great 
 With leprosy was smitten sore; the feasts 
 Were clianged to fastings, and the pagan priests 
 
 Gathered at midnight's hour to supplicate 
 The angered g<^ls. Before the oracle 
 In silent prayer they knelt, until the spell 
 Was broken by a voice as from the grave: 
 •'The blood of liniocence alone can save I" 
 
All nged priest before the ruler stood. 
 And spake: *'0 monareli, thus the gods decide — 
 'nie leper may alone be purified. 
 
 By bathing- in a font of ehildren's blood'"' 
 
 Then to the temple's shrine the sohliers l)rouglit 
 Three thousaiul little ones for sacrifice; 
 AVhile, surging round the sacred edifice, 
 
 A mob of i)arents stood with grief distraught. 
 
 In all the jwinp of Emperor of Rome, 
 Rode in his chariot Constantine the Great, 
 
 Whose leper scales white fiecked a brow of gloom: 
 But as he came forth from his i)alace gate. 
 
 Three thousand mothers, with dishevelled hair. 
 
 Tortured his soul with wailiiigs and with prayer. 
 To save their infants. 
 
 And the mighty King 
 Reluctant stopped, then said: '* 'Tis best that 1, 
 Rather than all these little ones, should die." 
 
 Then ordered he the soldiers forth to bring 
 The babes unto their mothers; and the fount 
 
 Of joyous tears broke forth in eager chase 
 
 Of those of woe. Then shone with joy his face 
 As gleams the white cone of the distant mount 
 
 At sunset's rosy hour. 
 
 AVith knightly grace, 
 He turned his chariot toward his palace gate; 
 
 And all the people sorrowing thronged his path, 
 AVell-knowing that he homeward turned to wait, — 
 
 To save the children's lives— a loathsome death. 
 
 In slumber deep upon the royal Wed, 
 Lay Constantine, and in his sleep he dreamed. 
 And in a flood of heavenly light he seemed 
 
 To see Saints Paul and Peter near his head. 
 
Spakf Paul: '-A- thou hast tVaivd to sht-d the bl<MMl 
 
 Of innocents, we brino: tliee ti(liMj!:s good. 
 Sylvester seek, whom thou hast sought to slay: 
 
 He huleth in the caverns of the mount: 
 Ami lie. when fouiul, shall show U> thee the way. 
 
 By bathing thriee in lonseerated font. 
 To cleanse thee of thy leprosy: and tlum 
 Shalt thence adore Christ Jesus, on whose brow 
 Rtsted a thorn crown, when for thee He g:ive 
 The bkxxl of Innocence that alone ean save." 
 
 Between two Roman guards Sylvester came 
 niinking to meet his deaths yet imdismayed; 
 
 For from Rome's Inshop's eye a holy tlame 
 
 Greeted Rome's monarch's, on lii- llironc arrayed. 
 
 His dream told Constantine. and when he ceased. 
 Forth went the monarch with the holy priest. 
 
 And in the font was thrice baptized, and then 
 Like «?ale8 of seri^ent dropiml the leprosy: 
 Then knew his heart another happy day, 
 
 As forth he went to meet his fellow men, 
 Praising the Christian's Go«l: and from that hour 
 Tlie Cross, and not the Sword, hath swayed the Roman 
 l>ower. 
 
 ^^^^^^f^ 
 
 23 
 
POVERTTS PRIDE. 
 
 Tlioy call iiic poor I True I can show 
 Xor store of gold, nor lands — 
 
 But a home is mine and none I owe, 
 And mine are skillful hands. 
 
 And though they know me not in bauk.- 
 
 Earth richer is througli me. 
 For proudly march I in the ranks 
 
 Of Labor's chlyalry. 
 
 The silks of wealth maj- flutter by. 
 
 In scorn aloof from me, 
 As shuns the tinted butterfly 
 
 The brown coat of tlie bee. 
 
 Care I? Am not I proud as they? 
 
 My skill is riches here; 
 The Avorkman in his humblest day 
 
 Is of any man the peer I 
 
 Plebeians they, what less am [? 
 
 Such are but gilded churls; 
 A duke may sneer as they pass by, 
 
 And kings at dukes and earls. 
 
 But kings salute the Iron Cross, 
 Though worn on peasant breast; 
 
 Ah! purse pride is but smelter's dross 
 To merit's royal crest. 
 
 Though stumbling ere I reach the goal. 
 My ermine stained with earth; 
 
 The north star sweryeth from the pole. 
 The needle from the north. 
 
 24 
 
He ^rrongelli none, who means no wrong:. 
 
 And walkeili viith hi- light: 
 He errs not much, nor erreth long, 
 
 Whose heart \^ in the right. 
 
 Show me my path of duty clear, 
 
 Tliough humble it may lie; 
 Though rough the road, the task isevere. 
 
 I'll tread it manfully. 
 
 With aim as high as kniglit of old, 
 A^Tjose fame has known no soil. 
 
 With vows as strong, with heart as br*ld. 
 Though but a son of Toil, 
 
 To merit, when, in coming days, 
 
 Men shall my tomb approach, 
 Tliat proudest of all human pnuse — 
 "Sans peur et sots reproehe.'' . 
 
 THE TRAVELER. 
 
 One siunmer's mom upon a swelling hill. 
 
 Beside the way, a dusty traveler sat. 
 
 A man of resolute mien was he and strong: 
 
 And as he forward glancetl along the road. 
 
 He saw, like some vast ehes*-board's squares, the fields 
 
 Of gold and emerald, set x%ith cosey homes. 
 
 Half hid in maple groves, *)efore him spread. 
 
 But further on a mountain rampart rose. 
 
 Of preiipice and Ijastioned palisades, whose tops 
 
 Were thinly lined xvith gaunt and scant-leaved trees 
 
 Si-arred by the lightning. Hights that seemed to bar 
 
 All further progress, but he, undismayed. 
 
 Arising onward pushed; the somber mount 
 
 Retreating seemed as he advanced, but on and on 
 
Scarce resting pressed he. As he nearer! the niouiit 
 
 Less high, less rugged, seemed it. Hidden now 
 
 By forest, then by hill-side, skirting now 
 
 The dark ravine he paced the winding road 
 
 O'er gentle knolls that others veiled still higher. 
 
 Thus walked he on till night had fallen, and then. 
 
 Between two saplings in his hammock swung. 
 
 He slept as one too tired to dream of fear. 
 
 When dawned the sun he wakened and arose. 
 
 Before him, reveling in a golden bath, 
 
 A beauteous valley smiled, and in the West, 
 
 AVrapped in the quiet shades, another slept. 
 
 For he unknowingly had scaled the mount. 
 
 Each forward step had gained still higher ground — 
 
 Each moment won its little victory. 
 
 L. 
 
 There is a happiness in energy. 
 
 There is a valor born of virile blood 
 
 That makes a joy of struggling. O, 'tis good 
 
 To waken from a pampered lethargy. 
 
 To burst our bonds that seemed as strong as steel 
 
 And find them cobwebs; while erect and free 
 
 We feel that victory is for him who dares, 
 
 And that we dare. Though we may fall. 
 
 None ever fell who never tried to rise; 
 
 And though we fail — we know but failures now. 
 
 Though wolfish peril trails the man who fears, 
 
 It skulks abashed from him who faces it. 
 
 Blest be the law that came with Eden's loss. 
 
 That makes us sink and perish when we stop; 
 
 And blest the chain that rasps the quivering flesh 
 
 Of him who wears it on his slavish limb. 
 
 Hope loathes a lodgment in a craven soul, 
 
 And victor ne'er was crowned who never fought. 
 
 There's time in life to reach the brightest goal 
 
 For him who faints not on the journey thence. 
 
 He wins who throws the gauntlet down to fate. 
 
ONLY A CLOVER LEAF. 
 
 ^Vhere the gnow, clear and bright. 
 Threw a shroiul. drear and white. 
 
 O'er the wide field : 
 I, like a gem, Ijeheld 
 Green a^ an emerald. 
 
 Brightly revealed. 
 
 Only a clover leaf! 
 Waging in bold relief. 
 
 Out in the snow: 
 Child of September warm. 
 Here in De<.-ember storm. 
 
 Trying to grow! 
 
 Nodding reliantly, 
 Wa\ing defiantly, 
 
 Friendless, alone; 
 Out in the freezing blast 
 Of all green nature last — 
 
 All else had gone. 
 
 Brave little clover leaf. 
 
 Soon thou \\\\l know of grief. 
 
 Frost-nipped to-night. 
 Why should'st thou heedlessly. 
 Recklessly, needlessly. 
 
 Hopelessly fight. 
 
 Wait till yon frozen rills 
 Dance do^vn the rocky hills; 
 Wait 'till the daffodils 
 
 Peep from the ground: 
 Wait 'till the gladdened sun 
 In some warm nook hath one 
 
 Violet found. 
 
Wiuter's not over yet. 
 Crouch 'neath the eoverlet 
 
 Of the warm snow ; 
 Down where thy brothers lie. 
 Fond a^ a mother, I 
 
 Press thee below. 
 
 AVhen our hopes airily. 
 Lift their leaves fairily, 
 As drifteth drearily 
 
 Life's winter snow. 
 'Till comes spiing cheerily, 
 May some friend warily 
 
 Press them below I 
 
 STELLARIA : 
 
 A CHILD'S MEM OK I A 
 
 The children trooped school- ward with How'rs, for next day 
 We would sti*ew in esteem of our fallen brave. 
 
 With her hand-full of chick-weed, T saw on my way, 
 An ill-clad little girl with a fjice sweetly gi'ave. 
 
 *' Little maid, little maid, what have you here? 
 
 For your birds some chick-weed?" '* Please sir," she said 
 '• Don't laugh," and her eye showed a glistening tear, 
 
 '' It's a little girl's best for our soldier-dead." 
 
 My garden was reft, save the rarest, but I, 
 Though a comrade, far less than my duty had done ; 
 
 •'Take my best, take them all, but your gift must not die, 
 It shall grow on some good soldier's grave, little one." 
 
 Set by hands of a comrade of many scars. 
 Ever gi'ecn, ever-blooming on that hallowed ground. 
 
 From March to December its modest white stars 
 Mark the love of a child for that soldler-bov's mound. 
 
THE LORD HATH NEED OF THEE 
 
 On the bare walls of a eliapel, void of deit>nitions «rrainl. 
 Once I read a simple legend, fashioned by some mother's hand 
 *' Tlie Lord hath need of thee." 
 
 In the silent lionr of midnight, when the weary eye-lids fall. 
 
 Comes a whisper in my dreaming, like a gentle spirit's call : 
 
 " The Lord hath need of thee." 
 
 At my heart's un\\illing portal, knocks a messenger again. 
 In my hours of daily lalx)r, ever with the same refrain : 
 " The Lord Iwith need of thee." 
 
 Tho' thou be as pure as star-light, tho' thy sins as scarlet be. 
 Be ye precious, worthless seem ye — still the Lord hath need of 
 thee: 
 
 " Tlie Lord hath need of thee." 
 
 Written with the lightning's fiiiger, on the stonn-i-loud's 
 
 fi-owning fold. 
 Penciled on the white-c-apped billows — I see blazoned as of old : 
 " The Lord hath need of thee.'' 
 
 He who gave to thee thy being, He who holds thee in His hand. 
 As an ever-loving Father to His children gives command : 
 *' The Lord hath need of thee." 
 
 He who gemmed the Armament with countless hosts of llaming 
 
 suns. 
 He who hath His eye uixni the sparn>w's brootl of little ones, 
 " The Lortl hath neeil of thee." 
 
 He who gave His Son a ransom. He who gives for all thy needs. 
 Shall He find thee still ungrateful, while the Holy Spij-it pleads? 
 '* The Lord hath need of thee." 
 
THE PHANTOM REGIMENT 
 
 On a beautiful isle of Lake Erie, 
 
 In the mellowing days of September, 
 When the hours never long seem nor weary, 
 
 And the grapes are aglow like an ember — 
 In a grove whose broke branches had wrestled 
 
 With the merciless winds and the snow. 
 The white tents of a regiment nestled 
 
 Like ermines ^\\\o dreamed of no foe. 
 
 Where the white caverned rocks are rellected 
 
 On the swell of the long cur\ang billow, 
 Xear where Perry's dead heroes neglected 
 
 Lie nameless beneath a gaunt willow, 
 I dreamed of our dead and forgotten. 
 
 Marked unknown on the tablets of Fame, 
 And a long line of heroes filed past me. 
 
 Who for us gave a life and a name. 
 
 With measured tread to beat of drum, 
 
 A ghostly column strode. 
 In rigid ranks with arms aslant. 
 
 Along a dustless road ; 
 And I seemed to see as they passed me by, 
 
 Full many a well-kno^^^l face, 
 Each marching along as in days of yore. 
 
 In his old accustomed place. 
 With the p-ace of youth, but each face was pale, 
 
 And furrowed by lines of pain ; 
 Though lost to fame they proudly marched 
 
 As thouo:h thev had fought not in vain. 
 
They halted for roll-call, aiul for each nainc 
 
 A ready here! was said ; 
 I listened witli awe for the sero^eants there 
 
 Were calling the roll of our dead. 
 All present or accounted for ; 
 
 A detail is still on earth. 
 To guard our flags, to mark our giaves, 
 
 To let men know our worth." 
 I awakened startled from my sleep. 
 
 And called my comrades near — 
 ' Our regiment, comrades, is with the dead, 
 
 'Tis the rear-guard only here!" 
 
 Comrades, we are growing older, 
 
 And our fires are burning low. 
 And the hearts of men seem colder 
 
 Than they were short years ago. 
 Where once danced the dimpling crinkles 
 
 When we laughed our cares away, 
 Xow are graved the rigid wrinkles 
 
 Over beards just tinged with gray. 
 
 Comrades, we are growing fewer 
 
 'Round each yearly camp-fire met: 
 Some we miss, than whom none truer. 
 
 Faced the lead and bayonet. 
 Some are at the out-post falling, 
 
 Guarding home and child and wife. 
 Answering to the Master's calling 
 
 Of the muster-out of life. 
 
 ^^^'gr^fs^ 
 
 ^1® 
 
THE WRECKING OF THE OMAR. 
 
 Ill tlieir chariots, eloiul-enveloped, rode the legions 
 
 of the gale, 
 Hurling javelins o'er the white waves at each feebly 
 
 tlying sail ; 
 And the angry 8torni-wind hurtled with a wild, 
 
 defiant crj', 
 Heralding the winter's coming through the bleak 
 
 Xovember sky. 
 Forward swept the crested billows, with a mightj" 
 
 battle-roar, 
 Like long lines of white-plumed horsemen, charging 
 
 madly on the shore. 
 Onward sped a noble vessel, as a fierj' courser 
 
 tlies, 
 "SVliitening his breast with foam-tleeks, as he strug- 
 gles for the prize. 
 Froze the spray like sleet on rigging, spars and 
 
 hull, in quaint de^'ice, 
 'Till the cloud-rift sunshine sparkled on stalactic 
 
 fangs of ice. 
 Frozen were the sails' tense bosoms as she tried 
 
 the' port to reach — 
 Two great piers that cleft the waters northward 
 
 from the sandy beach. 
 Built to shelter from the tempest, now but serve 
 
 the bark to rend, 
 As when one, to save a comrade, aims at foe and 
 
 kills his friend. 
 Xearer reeled the gallant vessel, staggering like a 
 
 a wounded deer. 
 Missed the harbor, met destruction, as she struck 
 
 the massive pier. 
 Thus she sunk, and to the rigging clung the living 
 
 — onlv three; 
 
 32 
 
Then a line, to spar-wood fastened, tbrtli \\ as tliiown 
 
 upon the sea. 
 And the men wlio thronged tlie harbor, strong of 
 
 will but faint of hope. 
 Eager watched what way it drifted 'till was eanght 
 
 the saving rope. 
 One by one, two frost-nnnibed sailors, from the 
 
 swinging cable fell. 
 And tlie snrf in dirge-like (,'adeni-e, on the sand- 
 beach tolled their knell. 
 One alone was left — the master — and we looked 
 
 with bated breath 
 As he grasped the icy hawser, bravely, calmly, 
 
 fficing death, 
 Clinging as with eagle's talons to tli(^ wildly 
 
 swaying rope ; 
 Nearer, nearer, slo\Niy came he — oh I Iioan- sloA\'ly — 
 
 dared we hope? 
 Every face with dread grew pallid as each slender 
 
 hope grew less. 
 At each grasp we felt his fingers on our ([uivering 
 
 heart-strings press. 
 Fallen ! lost I Oh, God preserve him I See him 
 
 struggling in the foam I 
 "Men, we viust not let him perish in tlie sight of 
 
 friends and home I" 
 Fast the uncoiling ropes flew seaward, tlung by 
 
 seamen skilled and brave, 
 And with strained and knotted nniscles, giant-like, 
 
 he cleft the wave. 
 But in vain; the storm-fi(>nd coiH[uered, and we 
 
 knew that all was o'er. 
 As a cry that chilled our life's-l)lood rose a))ove 
 
 the tempest's roar; 
 For a moment on the water shone that face so 
 
 And a hundred groaned in anguisli as it slowly 
 sank from sight. 
 
 ( 5 ) ° 88 
 
Young man, one week from Thursday night, 
 We'll have a ball at our old place; 
 
 We want your wit to make it bright, 
 And want your wife to give it grace. 
 
 Tut, don't object, 5'ou must, my boy, 
 I know your trouble — I've been there; 
 
 I know what men in my employ, 
 Have but one suit of clothes to wear. 
 
 Humph! "mortgage, note due, cannot pay, 
 Must strain each nerve — no heart for play;" 
 
 "I can't feel thankful, much," you say; 
 "And Thursday is Thanksgiving Day." 
 
 In places where we least expect, 
 We sometimes find an antidote ; 
 
 Once when my hopes were nearly wrecked, 
 I found one in a faded coat. 
 
 I'll tell that story of old clothes, 
 
 Xext Thursday night, you needn't fear, 
 
 Tut! I'll not let you interpose 
 
 A word, my boy; you know I'm (pieer. 
 
 The matter, sir, is set at rest. 
 My coach will call for you and her; 
 
 And if you won't come as a guest, 
 I'll bring you as a prisoner. 
 * * * * * 
 
 34 
 
Thanksgiving Dny canio slowly ronnd, 
 A Summer's day at Antninn's IhmI; 
 
 And Winter, Kegent Prince, wan crowned. 
 And reigned in dying Autumn's stead. 
 
 Thongli dead, the l)eecli leaves would not fall, 
 But rasped each other's serrate edge, 
 
 And Httle tufts of autunui snow. 
 Shrank from the sun heneatli the hedge. 
 
 Then night came on — a starless night. 
 
 Yet pleasing in its very gloom; 
 For cheerful danced the coal fire's light. 
 
 On walls of many a drawing room. 
 
 The mansion's lighted windows threw, 
 Auroral streamers through the night; 
 
 And festooned down each avenue, 
 Swayed slowly globes of crimsoned light 
 
 That night no diamond's haughty ray, 
 Coquetted with the ruby's glow; 
 
 But fifty guests in well-worn gray, 
 Led fifty guests in calico. 
 
 The rustle of the twinkling leaves, 
 Beats time now to the dancing throng; 
 
 The trickle of the fountain weaves. 
 Gold-threaded through the woof of song. 
 
 And when the midnight bell had tolled. 
 The master had his talej)egun, 
 
 And many a cheek on yoimg and old. 
 Flushed scarlet when the tale was told. 
 
THE FADED COAT. 
 
 AVhen I whs poor some years ago, 
 
 A faded coat I used to wear; 
 Through Sununer's rain and AVinter's snow 
 
 To work, though sneei-s oft met it there. 
 
 And all men seemed that eoat to vit^w 
 To make it of their jests the hutt : 
 
 1 keenly felt 'twas sadly true, 
 It did not have a modern cut. 
 
 Out in the suburbs I had bought 
 An humble home with acres ten, 
 
 And straining every nerve, 1 thought 
 To struggle unremarked of men. 
 
 Each day nt dawn 1 worked the ground, 
 Then wrought at desk 'till six at night, 
 
 For three long years, and then I found 
 My faded coat had won the light. 
 
 Beyond my fields the citj^ grew; 
 
 What cause that old coat then to thank; 
 My land I sold; I had, 'tis true. 
 
 Full thirty thousand in the bank. 
 
 And many times I've doubled that; 
 
 And now they say, "a fool has luck I" 
 Their verdict I'll not grumble at, 
 
 If they ^\ill add, " AYe lack his pluck." 
 
 They still must work — my toil is done; 
 
 Wise they in speech, but I in act; 
 They erred to waste, I saved and won; 
 
 I fool in name, but thej^ in fact. 
 
 But should disastrous storms assail, 
 And wreck my fortune as a boat ; 
 
 Should other friends desert or fail, 
 I'd wear again that faded coat! 
 
 * * * * * 
 
And when had closed the night's delight, 
 The host gave John his hat and cloak, 
 
 And e're he bade the }^onth good-night, 
 To him the old man kindly spoke: 
 
 '^You've had a good time, John, I hope;" 
 Then with a business air he said: 
 
 "The matters in this envelope 
 Please fix before you go to bed." 
 
 " N'ow if you find you cannot pay 
 That note of j^ours that soon falls due, 
 
 I'll lend you some 'most any day 
 At ten per cent, to help you through." 
 
 When John reached home, he sat him down 
 To work though with an aching head ; 
 
 He siezed the package with a frown; 
 Then opened it — and thus it read : 
 
 "Dear Friend: Inclosed herewith please find 
 
 A trifling testimonial, A\hich 
 I long have promised in my mind. 
 
 For I am poor where you are rich; 
 
 For I've no child, you have, I see. 
 Four precious mill-stones 'round your neck ; 
 
 And for your wife and them, from me. 
 Inclosed please find (marked A) a check; 
 
 (Marked B) one to your order made; 
 
 (Marked C), your mortgage, satisfied; 
 (Marked D), your note now due, and paid; 
 
 With my best wishes, sir, beside." 
 
 Sweet to the soul are Christmas Bells; 
 
 Our gains gild ?^ew Years' festival; 
 The " Glorious Fourth" our bosoms swells; 
 
 Thanksgiving Day combines them all ! 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 A WAK STORY. 
 
 ''Oh father, here's your old soldier-cap, 
 
 Which we found in the garret, to-day; 
 For we wei-e too noisy for mother here. 
 
 And she sent us up there to play. 
 Oh, father, please tell us a story now. 
 
 How you slept on the hard ground at night, 
 And that sometimes you had no bread to eat, 
 
 And they made you wade rivers and fight." 
 
 " Well, children, 1 will now tell you one, 
 
 That I know I shall never forget; 
 I was sent out on picket-guard one day, 
 
 Where the picket-lines nearly met. 
 And the Gray-coats were angiy AAith our men, 
 
 And we shot at each other at sight; 
 For bad men of ours had burned some homes, 
 
 And had put the poor people to flight. 
 
 The scattering shots made me sparply watch 
 
 For the opposite picket in Gray; 
 For I feared that if he should see me first, 
 
 It would be my last soldiering day. 
 When lo ! there he stood, not fifty yards off", 
 
 In the bushes beside a tree; 
 And I quickly aimed, and said to myself. 
 
 Ha, ha! you're a victim for me! 
 
There, statue-like stood he, unconscious 
 
 That a rifle was aimed at his head; 
 But a quick thought now suddenly checked me. 
 
 Before the swift bullet had sped — 
 ' Would a brave soldier kill a helpless one, 
 
 Do you think it all right and square?' 
 ' Oh, yes, he'd have shot, had he seen me first. 
 
 And in war everything is fair.' 
 
 But my conscience still kept back the trigger 
 
 While my finger played to and fro — 
 'Kather than fight as assassins do, 
 
 You had best let the poor fellow go; 
 Like you, the nian has a mother, perhaps, 
 
 And, may be, a child and a wife.' 
 Then I lowered the gun and I shouted : 
 
 'Ho, Johnny! I give you your life.' 
 
 Then, as though I had shot him sprang he, 
 But recovering, he shouted to me : 
 ' May God bless you, Yankee! won't ye come half way 
 
 I want to shake hands with ye.' 
 So I went, and he gave me tobacco. 
 
 And I gave him coflTee and salt; 
 And each gave his name and regiment, 
 
 And our watch we let go by default. 
 
 He said that he was an only son. 
 
 And his mother, a widow, was sick; 
 That she wished him to try get a furlough, 
 
 And to come to her bed-side quick. 
 But I heard the coming relief guard, 
 
 From each other we hastened away : 
 And each told the man who relieved him. 
 
 That no shot should be fired there that day 
 
 39 
 
On the very next day the Colonel sent out 
 
 Our company on a scout ; 
 \Vet met a large force of the enemy 
 
 And were speedily put to rout. 
 But a bullet had struck me in the foot 
 
 And 1 fell down, dismayed to find 
 That the company, forced to save itself 
 
 Had left me, sore wounded, behind. 
 
 Then 1 rose, and limped off hastily, 
 
 Almost helpless, to make my escape, 
 AVliile my wounded foot pained dreadfully, 
 
 As I dragged it, all blood, step by step. 
 ' Yankee, halt!' cried a rough voice, in savage tones, 
 
 And, startled, I looked to see 
 A Confederate soldier, standing near, 
 
 And his rifle was aimed at me. 
 
 'You must die, you infernal Yankee!' he hissed. 
 
 And I heard the gun-lock click; 
 And my heart thrilled and bounded wildly. 
 
 And my hot brain grew dizzy and sick. 
 Then a rush, like the spring of a tiger. 
 
 Then a sting, like the touch of fire I 
 And I fainted, and fell down lifelessly. 
 
 As a murdered man, in the mire. 
 
 AYas it a dream that I dreamed then. 
 
 Of water cooling my brow'? 
 Of spirits pressed to my pallid lips. 
 
 And a kind voice, speaking lowV 
 Xo! for I felt my heart beating, 
 
 Xo ! for my foot twinged with pain, 
 Xo! for my head gi-ew clearer. 
 
 And I opened my eyes again. 
 
 40 
 
A Confederate soldier, was he, 
 
 The man then nursing me; 
 He said, ' I knocked the gun away 
 
 From a comrade, shooting ye; 
 For a Yankee spared me yesterday, 
 
 To him this message take: 
 'That I owed a Yankee life for mine, 
 
 And saved yours for his sake.' 
 
 Then I said, 'Dick, don't you know me? 
 
 God hless you, my noble boy!' 
 He sprang to my arms and kissed me, 
 
 And I kissed him in my joy. 
 
 Then his Colonel came on horseback, 
 And he saw Dick dance and shout; 
 
 And sternly asked the soldier then, 
 What his noise was all about? 
 
 Dick the whole story told him, 
 
 And he said to the boy's delight: 
 'You shall surely have your furlough, 
 
 Just come to my tent to-night; 
 As for this prisoner^let me see — 
 
 Here, mount my horse, you scamp, 
 And take him to the Yankee lines 
 
 With a truce-flag, to his camp.' " 
 
 I will add by way of a moral, 
 
 A sound old bit of sense ; 
 "That a merciful deed is sure to bring 
 
 Its par in recompense." 
 And in quarrels of dogs or nations, 
 
 Let it be our pride to say. 
 That we ever tried our best to give 
 
 The UNDER ONE fair play! 
 
 (6) 
 
 41 
 
THE OLD YEAR'S BURIAL 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Marching in endless columns, the numberless feathery 
 
 snow-flakes, 
 Clothing the earth with ermine, and warming the 
 
 shivering rootlets, 
 Decking with epaulets white the needle-leaved limbs 
 
 of the balsams. 
 Silently come to the Old Year's grave, and the New 
 
 Year's coronation; 
 Momently, through the breaking clouds, the old moon 
 
 timidly glances. 
 Gilding with shimmering light the rigid cones of the 
 
 fir-trees ; 
 And, when the clouds have fled like afi"righted herd& 
 
 of the bison — 
 Peep over heaven's battlements the stars 'till the dawn 
 
 of the morning. 
 Over the moonlit tomb-stones the graceful silvery 
 
 willows 
 Bend like white-veiled nuns, low kneeling and telling 
 
 their bead rolls. 
 
 'Tis the voiceless hour of midnight, the hour that 
 
 compels devotion. 
 When the falling-stars drop like burning tears of 
 
 heaven's Eecording angel. 
 Slowly a deep-toned bell doth toll from the neigh- 
 boring church tower : 
 Doth toll for the dead Old Year, for a friend that 
 
 has left us forever. 
 Faint but clear on the air, comes the requiem chant 
 
 of the chime-bells. 
 Sweetly, solemnly singing the Old Year's funeral 
 
 dead march. 
 "Gone — gone — gone!" moans the bell in the great 
 
 Cathedral, 
 "Go to thy rest in peace," softly tinkle the Trinity 
 
 chime-bells. 
 
 42 
 
Here lie the dead in "God's Acre," and the virgin 
 
 snow on the grave-mounds 
 Curves like motionless waves on some frozen lake in 
 
 the north-land. 
 Soon through the stone-arched gate, moves in silence 
 
 a funeral cortege, 
 Moves as though loth to sully the sacred folds of the 
 
 snow-shroud . 
 Ranged in soldierly ranks on the sides of the desolate 
 
 pathwaj^s, 
 Uncovered as though in reverence, stand the stately 
 
 forms of the shade-trees 
 With their hrawny arms outstretched o'er the cata- 
 falque passing between them. 
 And the wind plays a solemn dirge on its harp-strings, 
 
 the leaves of the pine-trees. 
 Indistinct, as through the cedars, play the frolicksome 
 
 flecks of the moon-light. 
 So the au- seems filled with phantoms, looking on 
 
 while the casket is sinking. 
 Bitterly weep the mourners 'till the honored dead 
 
 is buried; 
 Out of the grave-yard they march, and the buried 
 
 dead is forgotten. 
 
 One more year of disaster has followed its gloomy 
 companions. 
 
 Leaving no token to lighten our hearts, no sign of 
 the sun-rise. 
 
 Still let us hope, for no night ever came but was 
 followed by day-break; 
 
 Never a winter but yielded to spring; nor mis- 
 fortune 
 
 But was conquered by sturdy blows and reliant 
 hearts of the dauntless. 
 
LAUNCHED ON FRIDAY. 
 
 A SALT WATER LEGEND AND A FEESH WATER PARALLEL. 
 
 "Stranger, have you heard the story?" 
 Said a sailor, old and hoary — 
 "Of the Captain, bold, defiant. 
 Who in arguments reliant. 
 Said it was an imposition, 
 That old sailor superstition. 
 That a boat would meet disaster, 
 Rocks would pierce and storms dismast her, 
 Were she launched on Friday!" 
 
 " 'I will build a vessel,' said he, 
 ' I have here the money ready ; 
 Credulous are ye; I say blankly. 
 Cut on Friday shall first plank be; 
 I will lay her keel on Friday; 
 Launch on Friday; and my Ida 
 Shall the boat the Friday, hail her; 
 And, my friends, I'll surely sail her 
 Out of port on Friday!' " 
 
 "Thursday came, and to my sorrow, 
 'Launched she shall be on the morrow,' 
 Said the Captain, calm and cheerful; 
 'Launch to-day,' I said; "tis fearful 
 Thus to rush to ruin blindly; 
 And I urged with tears, though kindly. 
 Words of wisdom, words of warning, 
 
 Of a launch on Friday.'" 
 
 4i 
 
Eigid, as a marble column, 
 Stood the sailor white and solemn, 
 As the light grew dim and dusky — 
 Spake he with voice thick and husky; 
 "Poor boat! O my poor friend," wailed he, 
 " Friday launched her — Fridaj" sailed he — 
 Don't you hear the spirits' laughter? 
 They were never heard of after ! 
 For he launched her Friday!" 
 
 "Yes, I heard that tale of ocean 
 In my youth, and had a notion 
 That it was a superstition, 
 Haunting like some apparition : 
 So I swore its demolition, 
 (Spite of many a premonition 
 Which in my conceit did wrestle), 
 Vowing to begin a vessel. 
 
 Launch, and sail her, Friday." 
 
 Said the stranger, slow and sadly, 
 " Sure, sir, as my name is Hadley, 
 The Maria sailed on Friday, 
 And one week, sir, from her bride-day. 
 All the storm- winds got around her. 
 And that night a shipwreck found her! 
 Since, I've launched of vessels, twenty. 
 And they've brought me wealth in plenty, 
 But I've not, for friend or foeman, 
 iSTamed a vessel after woman. 
 
 Launched, or sailed on Friday!" 
 
 
THE DAY OF REST. 
 
 Blest be the hour tliat ends the week of toil, 
 And sweet's the click that locks^-he massive door; 
 As homeward bound the happy workmen smile, 
 For once again is stilled the workshop's roar. 
 
 Can these soft tones be those of Monday's bells. 
 That scourged us to our daily task, like slaves? 
 Sweet is the chime that rolls in mellow swells 
 As sets the sun beneath the crimsoned waves. 
 
 Dear Sabbath Day ! thou blest of all the seven. 
 For thee we suffer all the wounds of toil ; 
 Whose hours unmarred by dread of pain and want 
 We pass in dreams of IS'ature and of God. 
 
 I rise betimes this glorious Summer morn. 
 For one brief day to haste to rural shades, 
 To know the fragrance of the new mown hay, 
 And breathe with joy the vivifying air. 
 
 And on a cliff that scans the valley's sweep 
 Alone I sit beneath a gnarly beech, 
 Whose roots that grasp the thin and rocky soil 
 Contorted lie like mighty fossil snakes. 
 
 Below me spreads the broad and fertile vale 
 Through which, tree fringed, the narrow river winds 
 And like the glint of distant burnished arms 
 So gleams the sheen of water through the trees. 
 
 The plume-like heads of yonder arching elms. 
 With queenly grace adorn yon grassy knoll, 
 And like a snow-drift lingering into May, 
 Appear the flocks that doze beneath their shade. 
 
The meadow's green is yet unscorched with heat, 
 And here and there in little spots of white 
 The tufted clover constellates the field, 
 As streams reflect on moonless nights the stars. 
 
 On yonder hill the solemn forest stands 
 A royal race of maple, beech and elm; 
 Above them like some patriarchal stag, 
 A blasted oak its spreading antlers rears. 
 
 I hasten down the hemlock-crested bluff 
 And cross a field yet hidden from the sun; 
 Like moon-thrown shade of branches on the snow, 
 So seem the trails of herd feet on the dew. 
 
 The tumbling brook that threads the dark ravine 
 Plays tinkling tunes upon the sharp-edged stones; 
 A cascade now and then a grass-girt pool. 
 In which in glee the dimpled eddies whirl. 
 
 Waving their tassel bullion from each branch 
 The epauleted chestnuts proudly stand. 
 Lovely in motherhood, as in autumn days 
 The maples and the sumacs. dye the w^oods. 
 
 Oh ! how I love to read in nature's book, 
 
 To men at times unsealed. To me each leaf 
 
 Is full of marvels; every spider's web 
 
 A tome of wonders; every wooded vale 
 
 Is full of priceless pictures ; every page 
 
 Teems with similitudes, and in solitude 
 
 I feel an awe I never felt for man. 
 
 To me it seems a wrong to fell a tree 
 
 To till the ground beneath it; and to me 
 
 The mullein is as lovely as the rose. 
 
 But rapidly the precious moments fly 
 
 Like frightened antelopes, and the setting sun 
 
 Gives warning that my hours of joy have run, 
 
 And that another week of toil has come 
 
 That I and mine may live to toil again. 
 
 47 
 
THE CENTENNIAL OF THE FLAG. 
 
 Where erst was heard the martial tramp, 
 The bugle's blare, the echoing drum. 
 Swell now the ceaseless jar and hum. 
 
 Of swarthy Labor's smoke-wreathed camp. 
 
 The stalwart veteran guides the plo^A', 
 Contented ^\ith his peaceful lot; 
 
 IS'or dreams of march or battle now. 
 
 Save when is heard some huntsman's shot. 
 
 And sitting in his cushioned chair, 
 
 The aged grandsire tells again 
 How once when he was young and fair, 
 
 He fought with Scott at Lundy's Lane. 
 
 And sadly, proudly speaks of one. 
 His soldier-boy, who went away. 
 
 And fell beside his brazen gun, 
 In Mexico, at Monterey. 
 
 Nor doth forget to mention there, 
 How, forcing through the ice a way. 
 
 His father crossed the Delaware 
 With Washington, on Christmas day. 
 
 Gone are the oak-woods, in whose i)rime 
 The Aztec Druids reared their mounds — 
 
 Whose dense shade formed in later time. 
 The fierce Algonquin's hunting grounds. 
 
 48 
 
Xow, in their stead, smile fields of grjiin, 
 And undnlating- meadows green, 
 And, where were Indian ti'ails, is seen 
 
 The smoke-plume of the passing- train. 
 
 From northern lakes and fir-fringed rills, 
 From where the ripened orange glows. 
 
 To Colorado's gold-veined hills, 
 O'er all, one flag its vcgis throws. 
 
 A standard whose silk folds arose 
 
 Out of the sulphurous war-cloud's pall ; 
 
 Born of a struggling nation's throes, 
 To burst the l)onds that held it thrall. 
 
 When hope from stoutest hearts was driven, 
 It came to light us on our way — 
 
 By woman's hand to patriot's 'given 
 One hundred vears ao-o to-dav. 
 
 The memories of Valley Forge — 
 The frosty stars, the bloody snow, 
 
 That striped with red that whitened gorge 
 
 Bright banner of the star-lit blue ! 
 
 Across thy stainless folds, of white. 
 Proud Liberty in challenge threw 
 
 Her thunderbolts of crimson light. 
 
 Wave, glorious flag of stripe and stai', 
 Thou blood bought standard of the fi'ee I 
 
 Each stripe the trophy of a war. 
 Each star a badge of victor v. 
 
 Proud flag that never lost a war! 
 
 Unconquerable, while burn the fires 
 Of valor in true hearts, that dare 
 
 To emulate their fearless sires. 
 
 ) 49 
 
r 
 
 The flag tliat fears no host on eartli. 
 Floats not above one shotted gun. 
 
 And powers that seorned thee at th^v l)irtli, 
 Xo\v greet the as the mightier one. 
 
 The sun hears not thy war-drums speak, 
 Xor sees long ranks of martial show — 
 
 The brilliant hectic on tlie cheek, 
 That marks disease and death ))elow. 
 
 But may on farms, in crowded marts, 
 Hear as he sweeps from sea to sea. 
 
 The drum-beats of ten million hearts, 
 Un worded hymns to Liberty. 
 
 But not alone the deeds of war, 
 Have on thy storm-kissed folds a j^lace ; 
 
 The white stripes hold in honor there 
 The ])loodless victories of peace. 
 
 The prisoned lightning that doth dash 
 
 Along its slender tether \A'ire, 
 A thousand miles in one quick flash, 
 
 With word of wreck, or flood or fire; 
 
 The ponderous engine that doth force 
 The mighty ship across the main ; 
 
 The fierce, resistless iron-horse 
 
 That thunders over stream and plain : 
 
 And l)ending o'er the garment seam, 
 
 From woman's brow dull care takes wing, 
 
 As in steel hands, with merry gleam, 
 The tireless needles dance and sing. 
 
 The pine-tree doth the cactus greet, 
 
 Palmetto answers to the elm, 
 Two oceans' waves responsive 1)eat. 
 
 " Behold thou here earth's noblest realm 
 
 oO 
 
 1 
 
Here one for all and all for one, 
 In sacrifice their offerings bring, 
 
 To grant to all, deny to none, 
 
 Eights equal — and make law our king. 
 
 Too proud to cringe to haughtiest crown. 
 Too just to wrong the feeblest state, 
 
 May we ne'er stain that fair renown — 
 'Tis nobler to be just than great. 
 
 Though wealth may scorn the pauper's rags, 
 It dare not wrong a brother here, 
 
 For saith the war-torn battle flags, 
 Thy humblest neighbor is thy peer. 
 
 Be what their station, faith or clan, 
 All join as equals, hand in hand, 
 Beneath one flag, and for one land, 
 
 In one great brotherhood of man. 
 
 'With malice in our hearts towards none. 
 With charity for all " — spake one — 
 'Let us move forward in the Right, 
 As God gives us to see the Kiffht." 
 
 ^-iS^I^Tai-cr^f^^i^ 
 
 ^"^ 
 
■~1 
 
 CHANTICLEER. 
 
 KXTHACT F1U)M A NEW YKAK's ADDHKSS. 
 
 Bird of the D:i\vii, whose bugle notes 
 Awake the e(*hoes of the morn, 
 Whose clarion on the crisp air floats, 
 And heralds forth a new day horn ; 
 Around thee glorious memories cling I 
 Prophetic bird, of thee we sing I 
 Though long, and dark, and drear the night, 
 And time, with lead plumes, wings his flight- 
 When streaks the east with breaking liglit, 
 Upwelling, trumpet-like we hear 
 The reveille of Chanticleer I 
 
 "But more — more joj'ous sights 1 see: 
 The hosts of wrong in swift retreat ; 
 Justice unbound, erect and free — 
 Corruption cowering at her feet I 
 O, broken ranks and sundered chain. 
 May we ne'er meet thee whole again I 
 Rejoice I each day a gain shall show:" 
 Each daj' some forward step shall kno^^••, 
 Each day some blessing shall bestow I" 
 So saith our friend, the feathered seer. 
 Brave, heart-inspiring Chanticleer I 
 
 The eagle, caged, will sulk and cower; 
 From snow the lions shrink with fear; 
 But neither bars, nor frost, nor shower. 
 Appall the heart of Chanticleer! 
 O, n\i\\ our hearts as fearless be, 
 Ileliant in adversitj^' 
 
 So maj' we meet life's black-browed gale: 
 Maintain our rights Avhen foes assail. 
 And ne'er know such a word as fail ; 
 That wc may greet with liearty cheer — 
 Come A\ea] or woe — the glad Xew Ykah