A M(i/. 1 -^ \ ^^^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ®]^a{t. - -— ®apijrig|t !l^a. Shelf. './^.i(^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. uJi^Jl / M %'^ .%-^i> m)j^ ^5^ ^ mi m AjJt\^} Cf >^-.T«'vl' Bhifting Scenes POEMS X. 1. RICHARDS 3$os r SAN FRANCISCO THE BANCROFT COMPANY. PUBLISHERS 1889 Entered according to Act of Congress in the Year 188'.), by T. J. RICHARDS lu the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington All Rights Reserved \ t> MY MOTHER This Book is AtTectionatelv Dedicated PREFACE Four years ago, I came to the Golden State, seeking the benefits of its " glorious liimate." During a period of enforced leisure, I employed part of my time in writing verses for different papers in this State and elsewhere. Collecting those and others I had w^ritten before, I made arrange- ments with A. L. Bancroft tS: Co. to publish tiiem in one volume. But with the loss of their house l)y fire my Avork was consumed just on the eve of completion ; and my first votary gift on the Altar of the Muses was a burnt offering. I now present a number of my poems in this little book, hoping they may receive whatever degree of attention and patronage their merits may demand. The Author. CONTENTS PAGK After the War -------- 157 After Vacatiox --------- 36 As Little Children -------- 20 x\t the Springs — Morning Scene ----- 77 At the Springs — Evening Scene ----- 70 Autumn Leaves - - - - - - - - - 140 Because ---------- 105 Bereaved - - - - - - - - - - - 121 Brass Cut Brass - - - 27 California Village, A -------- 98 Carl ..-------.. ig Christmas ---------- 29 Crossing the Plains -------- qi Crossing the Mountains ------- 65 Decoration Day ----..-_ gQ Epigrams - - - - ----- - - 155 Flower, A - - ----- - 14 Forbidden ----- ----- 26 Fragment, A --------- - 74 Golden Wedding. A ..---... ^23 I Dreamed That You Loved Me - - - - - 129 Independence Day— 1886 ------- 81 Independence Day ..---... ^Qg In the City --------- 136 In the Mountains - - - ----- 134 Jennie on the Banks of Bonnie Doon - - - - 80 Labor and Best .-------.- 15 L'Envoi ------ ----- 164 Lesson, A - - - - ----- . 145 Letter to My Mother, A ------- 89 Lines in an Album -------- 73 Loss -.---------- 103 Law of Love, The - - ------ 119 Life's Poems ---------- 19 Maiden's Grave, The -------- 63 Memorial Day- --------- 115 Mists ----------- 139 Mother's Kiss, A - - - - - - - - - 162 8 CONTENTS PAGE My Bete Noir -.-.----- 114 My Love - - - 161 My Mother's Gone -------- 130 My Native Village -------- 37 My Neighbor --------- 28 Not an Earthly Kingdom ------- 107 Oh! Sing Me a Song -------- 113 Old Schoolhouse, The -------- 32 Only a Letter --------- 21 O Tempokes, O Mores - - - 100 Pacific, The ----.--.- 67 Parted ------.-.-- 137 Past, The - - - 122 Perhaps 'tis Best ---.----- 17 Picture, A ---------- 106 Prelude ---..--.-- 9 Purified ---------- 138 Remembrance ----- 93 Rest ----------- 133 Separation - - - - -- - - - -83 She Must Not Know -------- 97 Shifting Scenes - - - - - - - - - 11 Song for the Times, A - - - - - - - 120 Summer Fantasy, A -------- 94 Summer Scene, A -------- 141 Thanksgiving Day - - - - - - - - - 24 Thoughts on Life -------- 31 To AN Absent One - - - - - - - 160 To ---------- 132 Two Homes ---------- 70 Two .-.------.- 86 Vacation Musings - - - 147 Valley of Capay, The ------- 155 Valley of San Joaquin, The ------ 92 Wasted Hours --------- 87 When My Ship Comes In - 118 Within - - 89 World, The - 71 PRELUDE Srefuili HY should you sing?" a critic said to me ; Your fathers never sang ; and can you then Expect to pour a flood upon the world, Whose richest note shall find a faint response Within the human heart? From fairy groves Enchanted, redolent with odors sweet From tropic flowers, where waters dark Glide noiselessly 'neath overhanging boughs, Or catching glimpses of a radiant sun Through rifted archways, scintillate with joy, Comes music sweet from many a bird of song ; With beauty in its varied forms and hues Begirt, their notes will carry the impress Of their surroundings. So the poet, who Would have his song touch with a moving power The heart of the vast universe, and live Through coming years, must in an atmosphere Of harmony be schooled." And I replied : 'T is said that many leagues a river may Flow 'neath the ground ; and ere we are aware Will issue forth and make the meadows gay With variegated hues ; and so with life : There is an undercurrent in the thoughts Of men for ages, till some day it breaks 10 SHIFTING SCENES Into a ripple of bright song; and then We stand and wonder that it can he thus ; And sometimes b}* the beaten road we hear, From some lone warbler covered with the dust From passing pilgrims, music rich and rare. And may we not among the lowly find One who may sit beside the trodden paths Of earth, and make them resonant with song? Much need has he of knowledge, and to feel What other hearts have felt, and have a wide Experience ; but yet, I sometimes think That learning can but make a greater, not A truer poet." SHIFTING SCENES H VALLF.Y grand /^>^V prilled by a band Of gallant sons and lovely daughters ; A river wide Whose currents glide From frozen fields to sunny waters. A merry rune Of rosy June Sung by a joyous youth and maiden ; A pleasant stroll O'er dell and knoll, Then home-returning flowerdaden. The hum of bees 'Neath spreading trees That arch the murmurming streamlets over; Sweet songs of birds, The low of herds That graze in fragrant field? of clover. The stifling air, The lightning's glare, The mutter of the distant thunder ; The driving blast Wide sweeping past, The forest giants rent asunder. 12 SHIFTING SCENES A silvery ^heen The banks between, The music of the brooklet stopping ; Storm-clouds unrolled O'er field and wold. And snowfiakes dimly downward dropping. A parting sigh, A last good-by To cherished friends and kindred spoken ; Love's golden chain Drawn out amain. But with each tender link unbroken. A wide expanse, A passing glance, An ever-swaying onward motion Unto the West Where sinks to rest, The red sun in the misty ocean. Bright crowns of snow, Dark clouds below, A swift descent from lofty mountains : A bursting through The mists into A view of sunlit fields and fountains. SHIFTING SCENK.S 13 A reach of plain, Where golden grain Glows 'neath the molten skies o'er-arehing ; A night of stars And streaming bars — Past all the moon so stately marching. A glimmering light On orchards white, And purple clusters downward bending; The liquid tones Of tropic zones With Northland voices strangely blending. A gleam of gold In canons old 'Neath rills from snow-capped summits flowing ; A sun-kissed vale, A perfumed gale — The breath of orange-blossoms blowing. A youth unknown Who walks alone — A simple wreath his treasure onh' — And views serene, Each shifting scene, Through all his devious wanderings lonely. 14 .SHIFTING SCENES eK iJFocoer CROSS the street ^)^The busy feet Of laughing childhood stray ; While from the bowers Incense of flowers Floats out each summer day. The passers by Will oft draw nigh To view the happy scene ; For pictures rare AVill banish care And make our life serene. One only flower Is in my bower And few will pass this side, And pause to see How fair it be, Although my joy and pride. But yesterday There came this way A child with golden hair, And asked that she This flower might see That seemed to her so fair. V FLOWER 15 Jk nd SO I write My verses light, And place them humbly here : And it will be A joy to me If but one heart they clieer. [^)EYOND the mountain heights of Pain There lieth Italy's fair plain ; And who would reach that glittering prize, So tempting unto human eyes. Must daily strive those heights to cross, Nor count the labor nor the loss. The years may come, the years may go, But still the progress will be slow^ ; Though many mountains we cross o'er Yet others ever rise before ; And dangers we shall daily find As great as those we leave behind. We strive through youth and manhood's prime, And through declining age we climb ; Till on some mountain height we stand And view afar the Promised Land ; 16 SHIFTING SCENES How few vvliile toiling o'er the way Can glean some pleasure for each day ? How few beguile a weary hour By gazing on some wayside flower ? Or in the journey ever look "With rapture on the babbling brook, That wanders through the valleys green And adds new beauty to the scene. Our thoughts are on the far away, The glittering prize we'll win some day ; And thus we labor evermore, With crosses here and crowns before ; Yet still methinks he toileth best. Who in his labor findeth rest. PERHAPS 't is best 17 PerftapA ^f ix^ Si)ex^f lERHAPS 'tis best we may not know the morrow, 1^^ The weary rugged paths our feet shall tread ; The dark and unrelenting clouds of Sorrow- That in the future will hang overhead. Perhaps 't is best that we should toil and strive ; Rest comes more sweet unto our own fireside When to each duty we have been alive, From morn till noon, from noon till eventide. Perhaps 't is best the past has had its woes ; 'T will fit us for the trials yet to be ; Perhaps 'tis best that they should come — who knows ? Although their justice now we may not see. Perhaps 't is best the Crown is still before. While presses heavily each day the Cross ; We yet may know before our toils are o'er, 'Twill be our gain, what now we deem our loss. For soon with all, Life's journey will be o'er ; And we shall tread no more these paths so dim ; Perhaps 't is best before we reach that shore, To onlv know — that we shall be like Him. 18 SHIFTING SCENES @arP JH^On speeds along the stony street his bicycle, trim and neat ; My pen I drop with joy to greet Our little Carl. How true he sits I how well he guides Those noiseless wheels I how^ swift he rides ! Now quickly out of sight he glides — Our neighbor Carl. Though lost to sight, methinks I see Him riding onward gracefully ; 80 bright, so fearless, and so free — Our hero Carl. With books or work or healthful play, He well employs each passing day ; And all who know him kindly say, " Our noble Carl." On you my boy and such as you. Our land is looking to renew Her serried ranks of patriots true — Our faithful Carl. And when your youth is nobly spent. With strong firm hands may you be sent To turn the wheels of government — Our manly Carl. mfk's roEMS 19 ^^^ OAJE lives are poems, ^^^^ In ^vhich 'w e find Words of true wisdom For heart and mind ; (rems of rare beauty, Mines of rich thought, Lessons of duty, Life's problems wrought Full of devotion. Simple, yet grand, Free as the ocean, Yet firm as the land. May Life's Poems ever Be so pure and chaste. That dying, we'll never Wish one line erased. 20 SHIFTING SCENES ^A tittfe (©ftifilren ^HOUGH Age may leave on form and face, < The lasting impress of his hand, And we may walk with faltering pace, That dim and shadowy border land, Oh ! may our hearts untouched by Time, Be youthful in that darker clime. Though centuries to cycles grow, And rivers still flow to the main, When we have passed from earth we know We shall not tread these paths again ; Oh ! then while here may our hearts be Like those of childhood, pure and free. If we would teach mankind the way That leads unto a higher plane Of duty than they walk to-day. Our hearts must ever young remain ; Life's rarest charms cannot atone For pure young hearts now older grown. But wayworn, weary with the strife Where maddening passions spurn control How oft the cares and toils of life Will harden and contract the soul ; And hearts that once were light and free, Lose their childhke simplicity. ONLY A LETTER 21 ©n^/ a tetter INLY a letter — faded and torn — And dim and yellow with age ; With here and there a leaf well worn, That holds some cherished page. Only a letter — but it reveals The past long hid from view; And I think to-night of a youth who kneels His promise to renew. And I see the form of a maiden fair, Her bright eyes dimmed with tears ; And her heart acquainted with grief and care, Is swayed by its hopes and fears. For love to her is a sacred theme. Not the jest of a passing hour ; And to awaken from its dream. Lies not within her power. It gives her courage to endure ; It speaks in her every tone ; And fills her life so young and pure, With a beauty all its own. And what of him ? He says his heart Shall ever faithful prove ; That Death itself can never part Him from his life— his love. 22 SHIFTING SCKNES But, oh ! he thinks to still be free A while to use each power ; And hke the changeful, wanton bee, To flit from flower to flower. For in dreams he had seen the Ladder of Fame As it touched on the glowing ground ; And his soul in rapture caught the flame Of the glory that shone around. And he saw the angels of Song descend From their home by the crystal sea ; And heard earth's sweetest music blend With their heavenly melody. And he awakened to impart His lessons of Mystic Lore, And ope new fountains in the heart, Unknown, unfelt before. All truth, all beauty touched his heart — Around, beneath, above — His love for the maid was but a part Of a L^niversal Love. ONLV A LETTER 23 And Love is blind; but, oh, she feels Despite of Love and tears — He is untrue ; his tone reveals Too plainly what she fears. And a sharp pang like a poisoned dart, Strikes deep her womanly pride ; And she strives to check the love of her heart Though it swells like the ebbing tide. Only a letter — but I can trace Its lines though yellow with age ; And the charm of a life's last lingering grace Is seen on each cherished page. Ever cherished by him, although It crushed his every hope ; And left him stunned beneath the blow, His darkened way to grope. He knows he well deserves the fate That holds them thus apart ; And he has learned — but learned too late — The worth of a woman's heart. 24 SHIFTING SCENES 0-DAY, let all the people to The house of God repair ; Or in their homes with reverence due Lift up their hearts in prayer. Thank Him to-day for rich increase In basket and in store ; For Hope renewed ; for smiling Peace, That comes to every door." As points the needle to the pole, As rivers to the sea, So on this day, the careworn soul Will turn to Heaven and Thee. Although condemned by fate these years 'Mid distant scenes to roam, When this day came — in joy or tears, — I sought my dear loved home. A father's blessing then I knew, A mother's love and prayers ; And brothers, sisters, kind and true, Made light my toils and cares. THANKSGIVING DAY 25 To-day the glad bells joyous ring In tones so clear and high — And now I hear the choir sing Within the church near by. "All hail the power"— that dear old song Swells grandly upward there — "Of Jesus' name" — in chorus strong, Floats out upon the air. "Let angels"— fainter now each word, I scarce can hear them all, Some passing breeze the air has stirred — "Let angels prostrate fall." How often have I heard that hymn, In other days gone by, Within a church now old and dim, Near where our loved ones lie. How many cherished forms I've seen Pass from this earth away. Whose memories and graves are green On this Thanksgiving Day But Him I'll praise, though tears should blind Me as I speak His love ; Those gone before are links that bind Me to that Home above. 26 SHIFTING SCENES And here I've mused upon the Past, So far away and dim, Until I listening hear at last That tender closing hymn. And "God be with you"— Oh I how sweet To me that sad refrain, As they in measured tones repeat Now, "Till we meet again.'' He is our Father and our Friend, He'll guide us all the way, Until at last in Heaven we'll spend One grand Thanksgiving Day. iJor"6l^c:|en ^ N yonder bower, So wild and free, There blooms a flower, But not for me. Its fragrance sweet Perfumes the air ; How rich a treat To enter there ! And oft I go This flower to see ; But well I know *Tis not for me. KRASS CUT r.KASS J^rax^x^ cuf Si)rax^x^ RISING poet, not long ago Chanced to meet with a poet brother ; They talked of their poems for a while, And then about themselves and — each other. Said one : " My poems are beautiful ; 'T would please you to hear me quote 'em; But I can't remember 'em now no more Than if I never had wrote 'em. I see the poems I write sometimes, And I really do not know 'em ; I read to-day one I wrote last year, And I thought it was Tennyson's poem." Said the other poet so young and fair ; "I write not for praiae nor for pelf, sir ; But Tennyson saw my poem last week, And declared that he wrote it himself, sir.' 28 ■ .SHIFTING SCENES 1 Mlj Reigft'Bor SEE her as she daily goes Intent upon her duty ; Not seeking to be known by those Renowned for wealth or beauty. So kind and gentle in her ways, So plain and unassuming ; AVith Heaven's own celestial rays, Her path through life illuming. One question she has answered me ; " Is this life worth the living? " " Yes ; if for every blessing we Some fair returns are giving. "It is not Eank, it is not Place, That makes our lives respected ; The highest station brings disgrace When Duty is neglected. "Trust Him unto the utmost, through Each dark and trying hour ; But still know we must ever do Wliat lies w^ithin our power." CHRISTMAS 29 These lessons, fair one, learned from you, New faith and hope have brought me ; But not by words, but actions true, Their cherished truths were taught me. When Merit only, shall V)e Kank, And Beauty — love and labor, For such a blessing I will thank Kind Heaven — and mvneighl)or. ©ftrix^fmax^ /^^ HRISTMAScomesI 'Teace and goodwill ^^^y On earth to all mankind." Though years have passed that message still Revives each heart and mind. Blest Day ! What joy clusters round Thy name ! The hours we knew Long past of happiness profound, Come once again to view. Now round our hearthstone we shall meet, And friends will gather there — Bright cheering words our hearts shall greet And banish pain and care. 30 SHIFTING SCENES And though without the wintry blast Is blowing shrill and drear, Within our home, no clouds o'ercast Our Merry Christmas Cheer. While happiness shall fill each breast In this, our dear loved home, Oh ! may our love go out in quest Of those who sadly roam. But there are many friends of yore Still held by us most dear, Who'll never greet our coming more When C'hristmas shall appear. Christmas comes ! Now open wide The portals of the heart ; Forth let the dove of Mercy glide. Its message to impart. And while of Peace the angels sing, May Earth catch the refrain ; Till Hate shall lose its deadly sting And Charity shall reign. And Faith and Hope, her sisters, then Will follow at her call ; And Christmas need not come again To teach us love for all. THOr(;ilTS ON LIFE 31 U^ougftfx^ on ©ife HUMBLE lot is mine to-day ; /^A! ^^ lowly path I daily tread ; And yet I know this lowly way To higher planes of life has led. A noble lesson we have learned, When we can curb Ambition's lust, And rightly prize the place we've earned, Nor seek, nor shun a higher trust. And what though Merit often fail And yield the crown to Birth or Fate I None need Misfortune's lot bewail; They yet shall reign who patient, wait. A wild bird sang — none heard but me ; And yet its song was full as sweet As that within yon maple tree Tliat stands l)eside the crowded street. But oft we keep our brightest smile, And kindliest word, and fairest song. That would sopie trusting heart beguile, And save them for the idle throng. 32 SHIFTING SCENES A kindly greeting we refuse The lowly ones we daily meet ; And grasping at the stars, we lose The jewels lying near our feet. But though it never may be mine To leave behind an envied name, Yet still I trust, I'll ne'er repine And idly sigh for Wealth and Fame. i) VIEW once more that sacred spot Where lirst I trod in Wisdom's way ; The place where learned sages taught The children of a bygone day. I thought I would my steps retrace, And one more look upon it cast ; And I would take from this loved place, Some fond memento of the past. For dearer now unto my heart The relics of my childhood's days, Than glimpse of clas-i;-. works of Art, Long hidden from the raptured gaze. THE OLD t^CHOOLHOUSE 33 And I had thought to find them now, As when I left them years ago ; When Hope was young, and on my brow, I felt the flames of Ardor glow. For I had wandered far away, And left the home I loved so well ; But now I had returned to-day, And hoped by this loved spot to dwell. But Time had passed ; and it will leave Its marks of progress on us all ; Its strong hand will the mountains cleave, And by its touch fair temples fall. Whilst traveling in a distant land, Thoughts of the past come o'er our mind ; Bright visions of the broken band — The happy scenes we've left behind. We backward cast our eyes the while — And through the intervening years, And many a long and weary mile — The oasis of home apj)ears. We then return to that fair land, No more from childhood's scenes to roam And after years have passed, we stand A stranger in our native home. 34 SHIFTING SCENES No more we see a father's face ; Nor mother's; brothers, sisters — all, Long sin(;e abandoned that dear phute And left but a deserted hall. 'T was thus with me. I thought Avhile here Some tokens of my youth to find ; But they have vanished — year b}^ year — Till scare a trace remains behind. I think of other days gone by. As I stand fondly gazing here, And oft I cheek the rising sigh ; But Memory claims and takes— a tear. Where are my school-companions gay That formed that happy, youthful band? Some long since passed from earth away, And some are in a distant land, Far, far from home ! and mountain height, And ocean billows come between ; No more their smiling faces light, The gloomy sadness of this scene. And " Caledonia, stern and wild," Is now the home of two fair maids, Whose cheerful presence once beguiled The passing hours, in these dim shades. THE OLD SCHOOLIIOU.se 36 Some on the fair Pacific Slope, Now dwell with Peace and Plenty blest, And base their earnest Faith and Hope, Upon the great, and growing West. Some far from home have perished, when They saw their sky with clouds o'ercast; And one has gone — and come again — To muse in silence o'er the Past. The spreading oak with branches wide, That cast around a pleasant shade — How oft have I stood by its side ! How often in its shadow played ! It, too, has left this once fair scene ! It met a sad, untimely fate, Its leaves are scattered on the green, And all around is desolate ! Oh ! this act will man's folly crown ! It fell beneath the tyrant's sway ; And vandals tore the building down. And Time was cheated of his prey. Where schoolgirls' songs rang through the wood, The birds now sing their notes instead ; Wild flowers are blooming where it stood. And all its former joys are fled. SHIFTING SCF;NKS I cross again the little brook, As night's dark shades succeed the day ; I turn and take a parting look, And then in sadness — walk away. oKfter N^acatioa [^)ACK from the seaside and mountains, I'^c Back from tha health-giving spring; From the deep-sounding sea and bright fountains, To our labor new life we will bring. The birds and the brooklets awaking Have sung of their tenderest themes; And first on our rai^t senses breaking Fair visions that came in our dreams. Seeking the while for the pleasures Unburdened Existence can yield, AVe have gathered the rarest of treasures From many an oft garnered field. From the North where the summer belated Awhile on the drear landscape smiles ; From the South where the breezes are freighted With odors from tropical isles ; AFTRR VACATION 37 From the East, tlie germ of the Nation, With its glorious deeds of the Past ; From the West with its civilization, The grandest, the best, and the last; From journeys in far distant nations, From musings 'mid Nature and Art, We bring to our daily vocations A larger and kindlier heart. With the loss of tliat narrow contraction That would dwarf and disfigiire the soul, And feeling we are but a fraction Of a great and harmonious Whole. HERE once the woodland fa,r extended spread, And the wild deer her fawns unfearing led ; Where strange bright flowers in wild profusion grew And o'er the scene a veil of beauty threw ; Where once the squirrel with the leaflet played And the shy rabbit sported in the shade ; Where Nature once held undisputed sway, The works of man — fair homes— arise to-day. 38 SHIFTING SCExVES Before the sturdy ax the forest fell ; The deer affrighted left its native dell ; The flowers faded 'neath the sun's bright glow, Or lingered only by the streamlet's flow; The tree that held the squirrel's nest of leaves To-day f-upports the wide protecting eaves ; Where the Red Hunter sought the cooling spring, AVe now may hear the anvil's daily ring; The little brook that flowed adown the hill, Turns the great wheels of yonder busy mill ; The hum of voices and the tread of feet Are heard each day along its shaded street. And though our village is so far remote From crowded cities or from towns of note, Yet still our "leading men" are all intent On keeping pace with every great event. From far around to hear the latest news, The sturdy farmers come, and give their ^iew( In language more stentorian than ornate, On questions of vast import to the State, And ever and anon a contest hold With varied specimens from field and fold ; MY NATIVE VILLAGE 39 And thos9 who once did conquer or did yield In other days on many a hard fought field, Now with a rivalry far nobler, vie In peaceful products of our sunny sky. I look around me, thankful that to-day, O'er all our land, Peace holds her gentle sway; For War^s grim memories now no more we hoard; To ploughshares w'e have changed the rusting sword, To tuneful anvils, balls that fiercely met ; To reaper's blades, the vengeful bayonet ; And with renewed devotion now we claim One flag, one country, and one common aim. Now once again the Pen resumes its sway, And solves the problems of the passing day. May it no more by Sordid Gain debased, Here pander to an oft perverted taste ; Nor yield supine to Concentrated Power, The living, vital issues of the Hour ; But toiling for a brighter, better day. Point up to higher realms and lead the way. 40 SHIFTING SCENES When Suinmer smiling, sheds her glories 'round, And dale and hilltop are with verdure crowned, Upon our streets the village band appears, And strains of martial music greet our ears ; While lovely maids, fair as a Morn in May, Add beauty to the scene and throng the way ; And when the shades of Night have gathered round. And wrapt the land in darkness all profound, From vine-sequestered c^.ot, or mansion white, Borne on soft breezes through the stilly night, Comes music sweet from some light-toned guitar. Touched by as dark- eyed damsels as afar In Spain's provincial towns, the traveler sees. Beneath the groves of fragrant orange trees; As noon and evening make their daily round. Along the streets is heard the merry sound Of happy children just released from school. No longer anxious to observe ''the rule." The teacher, firm but gentle, walks behind. With mind well stored with lore of various kind — Skilled in each art to guide the wayward youth. Along the path of Learning and of Truth ; MY NATIVE VILLAGE 41 But wearied with the cares that come to^ those In whom the welfare of young hearts repose, He seeks liis room to gain relief from toil, Then takes his books and "burns the midnight oil;" And oft he dreams of a bright future, when Instead of children, he shall govern men. When in obedience to his country's calls His voice is heard in Legislative Halls. Behold where yonder lofty spires arise, Like Faith still pointing upward to the skies ! And teaching man to look not always down On earthly scenes, but upward to a crown, Reserved for all who do, as best they can, The duties that they owe to God and man. The Sabbath dawns : throughout these quiet vales, The songs of birds are borne upon the gales ; Bright blooming flowers, the gently waving trees, The low of distant herds, the hum of bees, The tinkling bell upon the village green, The shimmering waters in the distance seen — 42 SHIFTING SCENES Sights that we lov^e to see and sounds to hear, Now greet the eye and fall upon the ear. There low, dark belts of w^oodland fringe the west, Where squirrels fearless sport around their nest; • And on the south, l)road pastures stretch away, Where graze the flocks through the long summer day While on the north the rock-ribbed hills arise, Whose summits glisten 'neath the glowing skies. Far to the cast, as far as eye can see, Keach fertile prairies ; where once wild and free The antlered deer o'er it were wont to roam, Now ruled by man — eartli's storehousg and his home. On every side fair works of art we meet, While nature's jewels lie about our feet ; While overhead the dome of azure blue, Now slowdy changes to a deeper hue. As high and higher mounts the King of Day, I see the gathering people wend their way Unto the church, nor wait until the hour The bell shall call them, ringing from the tower. MY NATIVE VILLA(JP: 43 And saints, grown old in service, come, nor fear The idler's jesting, nor the scoffer's sneer. Blest spirits ! When at last you hear the call To leave tliese scenes, oh ! may 3'our mantles fall, As you ascend in chariots of flame, On sons and daughters worthy of your name. And brightly smiling maidens here are seen. Like flowers blooming withered boughs between ; And matrons pale, whose sable robes betray The shadows resting on their homes to-daA^ And there he stands who leads, and long has led His people in the paths their feet should tread ; And seeking for their hearts surcease from strife, Breaks for their hungry souls the Bread of Life. But since an abler mind in other days. In gentler, sweeter strains has sung thy praise, I should not try, a bard of weaker mold, To tell again what has so well been tolJ. Yet will these precious memories round me throng And swell the feeble measure of mv song. 44 SHIFTING SCENES I see him now, a man of gracious mien, 'Mid every trial, peaceful and serene ; As is some mighty current, deep and wide, That calmly flows through Ocean's swelling tide ; And though the darkened waves may sweep around, Keeps ever on its way in peace profound : He moves amid his flock with gentle pace, And looks with kindness in each well-known face ; Cheers the sad heart crushed by Affliction's rod, And leads the wanderer back to Heaven and (rod. Well I remember as these lines I write, When first my fancy took its wayward flight ; When first I ventured feebly to address The people through the medium of the press. I fondly thought — a childish thought I know, I have outlived such visions long ago — The world was waiting eager for my song, And deemed its music was delayed too long. How grand it looked in print ! How well it read I And thoughts of Fame and Fortune filled my head, MY NATIVE VILLAGE 45 I did not know, as I have known since then, The cold and heartless apathy of men; That of the throng that ]>lume for lofty flights, But few shall ever reach those di/zy heights; That royal natures that deserve a throne, Oft go through life unnoticed and unknown. Perhaps 'tis best ; the sweetest flowers grow Kot on the mountains, but in vales below; They bloom in beauty in each lowly bed, Nor feel the storms that sweep far over head; And though oft crashed by man, their fragrance rare, More richly rises to perfume the air. Within these realms could we expect to find That subtle power which sways the heart and mind, And wakes the soul that sleeps in fatal ease To grand and noble deeds ? Of such as these The scholar reads in legendary lays That tell of elder and of better days ; In records dim of ancient Greece and Rome, Nor thinks to find true eloquence at home; 46 SHIFTING SCENES The flowers to-day are just as bright and fair As those of other times; the New World's air Wafts on its every breeze perfumes as sweet, As varied and as prized as ever greet The tastes refined of those who dwell at ease Beside the Tigris and the Euphrates, And why should Eloquence, sublimest art, In this our day and clime, fail to impart Its lessons true ? Why should there be denied These quiet scenes, man's highest, noblest ]>ride'* No ! Eloquence shall live throughout all time Uncircumscribed by age, or race, or clime. And it is here ; we've listened to its voice; Its power divine has made us oft rejoice; It touched our conscience like a fiery dart, And waked each smoldering passion of the heart. I could not — would not — blot from memory's page, His thoughts so worthy of a better age. Nor soon forget that grand and noble face. That manly form and mor^ than manly grace; MY NATIVE VILLAGE The raptured throng each deep emotion stirred, Hang tremulous upon his every word, Forgetting as those magic tones they hear, The one dark shadow of his hright career. Though dear be Music, Eloquence, and Art, Their power combined can never move the heart, And keep its life blood flowing free and warm. Like kindly deeds that patient hands perform ; And these the skilled pliysician, tried and true, Though often baffled, fails not to renew ; Bends with compassion o'er the sufferer's bed Till the last flickering ray of life has fled. I see him toiling on, from day to day, Through sun and storm on his unwearied way ; For eager, anxious hearts his coming wait, In humble cot, or mansion of the great, Where trembles now, the quivering, fleeting breath, In the poised balance betwixt life and death. 48 SHIFTING SCENES He comes ! Ah ! well they know that measured pace; And with what tearful eyes they scan his face, Long furrowed o'er with lines of wasting care, If by perchance his thoughts are written there ; And hope against all hope, his presence near, May turn aside the Shadow, all men fear. Our lovely village owes thee, friend, to-day, A debt of gratitude we cannot pay ; My feeble pen but feebly has expressed, How much thy kindly deeds and words have blessed Our hearts and homes ; but yet despite the power (3f the warm sunshine, every blooming flower Must fade away too soon before our sight. Cut down by hoary frost or withering blight ; The floods of springtime may be safely passed, The summer's scorching heat, the autumn's blast We may survive; but yet drea