L i^^'if Copyrighted 1894 BY MARTHA J. CLAIBORNP:. WM. K. BOYLE & SON. . ..Printers... 110 E. BALTIMORE ST. Affectionately Dedicated to the Memory of My Husband, Col- WILLIAM C. CLAIBORNE. CONTENTS. • The Blessed Day lo Faith II The Song of the Stars. 13 A Life Lesson 16 My Journey 19 The Triumph of Time 22 Sing Me a Song 24 Day by Day 25 If I had Gold 26 Summer 27 Castles in the Air 28 The Departed Day 29 Love's Name 30 Wishes 31 Patience 32 Disappointment 33 Love is Always Young 34 The Oft Told Tale 35 The Lost Cause 36 Spring is Coming , 38 Left Behind 42 There are Gems in the Sea, Love 44 Silence 46 Over and Over Again 48 A Fragment 50 VI CONTENTS. A Song 51 In Vain 52 What is Love?. 53 The Last Look 54 Duty 56 Beautiful Day 57 One More 60 To Hope 61 Happiness, (Earthly) 62 The Sailor's Farewell 63 Weariness ,.. 65 Dreams 66 Oh! Sigh. Not 78 The Dawn and the Day 79 Gold 82 The Rain 83 The Little Bird's Answer 85 The Poor 87 The Wreck 90 The Water of Life 93 The Grave 94 The Gems of the Heart 95 I Wish I was er White Man 96 The Grass 97 Slumber . i o i Fire , 103 The Old Heart's Song of May. 105 The Frost 107 I Care Not 109 CONTENTS. vii Home .» no War : 113 Yesterday 115 What the Murmuring Streamlet Said 117 Who Made You ? 119 The Love and Trust of Youth 121 The Poor Little Beggar Girl 123 The Future 126 What the Angels Said 129 Where Will I Be? 130 Things that Perish 131 Sweet Bird, Where have you been? 133 First Love 134 Idle Fancies 136 Gliding 137 Lillie Dear. 139 On the Fields 140 By the Wave and Willow 142 To a White Hyacinth 143 Sabbath Day 145 Gentle Words 146 Memory's Halls '. 147 Peace 148 What Shall I say? 150 Destiny 152 The Voice of the Wind 154 I Remember the Day 155 The Answer 156 Sleep 158 viii CONTENTS. Roll Back, Oh Time, Thy Wheels 159 May Day 162 Searching 163 Conscience 165 The Maiden's Song ' 167 Whenever the Wind Groweth Weary 168 The Voice of Nature 169 The Buried Seed .. 171 Let Me Live 173 The Mirror in the Heart 176 The Love of Humility 177 To Music , 179 Until . 180 Again 182 ''From a Dream" 183 Sad, But True : 185 Years 188 Rest 189 The Last Voyage lyi The Storm at Night 197 And There Alone 199 poe: MS. THIS BLESSED DAY. Oh blessed day of all the days That make the teeming year, I would I could so sing thy praise That every land might hear. I would I could so sing thy praise, That every heart might feel That only to the living Christ The stricken soul should kneel. I would, oh! day of all the days! This harp of mine had strings, That caught the tones from Heaven above Where holy angels sing. I strike the chorus — upon the air The empty sounds are spent ; ''Surely" I cry ''twas not for this My yearnings deep were sent. "Another hand hath sweeter touch, Another voice its tone, That tells what I would strive to say. While yet my task's undone." 2 THIS BLESSED DAY. With thee, oh! day of all the days, Have I alone found rest ; With Him who living, lived for me. The dearest Friend and best. With Him who dying, loved me still And with His nailed hand Still pointed to a home above In His own promised land. And this, oh day of all the days ! My yearning heart will say, ''Let all evanish from the earth. But leave His natal day. "Let all evanish from the heavens, But leave that blessed morn ; Star mirrored in the skies above — On which the Christ was born." II FAITH. • She hath a veil upon her face That we can never raise, And mystic words are on her lips Of love, or hope, or praise. She beareth caskets in her hands. But they are sealed fast. And earthly eyes look not within Until the portal's past. She beckons — and we follow her. Not knowing where we go. Nor turning back, though faint the light, Our weary path may show. Still on, and on, by many a path "* Where we have never been, With half told words, and visions strange, We have not heard or seen. But still, but still we follow her, W^ith steps that bolder grow ; With hearts and souls athirst to find. What veil and casket show. We feel her face is wondrous fair; We feel her words are wise : Though they have never reached our ears, Nor met our startled eyes. 12 FAITH. But always we must see her still, With hands to beckon on, She leaves us not by day, by night. Until our days are done. She calls, and pointing onward Still urges us ahead. Still has her steady light to burn By every path we're led. We know that she hath wings, for they Oft fold about her face, When through her veil, exceeding bright, Beams that divinest grace. And when the journey all is o'er. And we shall pause at last. She will unfold her wings and fly Where hidden things are past. And we, — we know not how it is, ^ But we will follow too. Having the things we longed to see All plain before our view. 13 THE SONG OF THE STARS. The clear night glittered With stars in the sky — All countless in number, They seemed to my eye. And they fastened my heart With their strange pure light, Now growing more faint ; Now gleaming more bright. And there, as I stood And watched how they burned, The shadows of earth My spirit it spurned. And I looked long, and listened To hear on the air If the sound of their voices Should find my dull ear. Sweet, sweet came the sound Of their song on the wind — No words to describe it Will my tongue ever find. But the words clear and ringing Came down from the sky, As the voice of a spirit Had whispered it nigh. 14 THE SONG OF THE STARS. "We were born in the void Of creation," they said, "To jewel the crown That encircles His head. "We gleamed on His forehead, We gleamed on His breast. Shone bright when He labored, And watched o'er His rest. ''We were lamps for His feet, . And a light for His hands. When He poured out the seas And fashioned the lands. "A light for His hands. And a lamp for His feet, When He called the fair morning And evening to meet. ''Yea, we held Him a lamp While He fashioned the sun, And the moon, and the earth. Till His work was all done. "We shone on His forehead. We gleamed on His breast, When the dawn of the Sabbath Had brought Him her rest. And then, as His children Groped on in the night, "I will give them my lamps Their footsteps to light." THE SONG OF THE STARS. 1 5 Yea, so said the Father All loving and kind, And from crown, and from breast-plate, His jewels unbind. ''And now, we are gleaming So bright in the sky. To show where the path To the Father doth lie. 'Come, come we will lead you. If you list to our voice Where the angels of God With rapture rejoice. 'Come, come we will show you The Father's bright throne; The crown and the breast-plate Where we glittered and shone." i6 A LIFE LESSON. I STRUCK my harp with trembling hand. The notes around me fell; My poor hea^t sank with wild dismay; A child might do as well. I thought to strike some mighty chord, With lofty, thrilling strain, That sinking in the heart would live, And never die again. For I had seen grand company, And heard their mighty song, Roll, in sublimest music, As before an army strong, That comes, with onward marching, Through all the length of years; All heroes in their blazing ranks. All, coronetted peers. And in my heart, their noble thoughts, And mighty swelling strain. Were breaking, as the ocean waves, Dash back upon the main. And then again, rise up and swell. And strive to reach the shore; Again fall back into the depths. To strive, forever more. A LIFE LESSON. 1/ So rose the music in my heart, To in wild utterance pour — So fell into the untold depths, •Where I could reach no more. I clasped my harp in wild dismay; I wept as weeps a child. It echoed back its pain with mine. In strains so fierce and wild, That I grew hushed before its power; Its swell of fierce despair; As if a lion couched to spring, And' rend me from his lair. And then I strove with soothing words, And tender, loving tone, To hush its raging frenzy; Its wild and bitter moan. I pointed to the stately oak. That towered above my head. And to the little violet Asleep upon its bed. And then I waked the flower up. And looked into its eyes, And saw upon the lowly ground, The beauty of the skies. 'Sweet lovely flower, I pray thee speak To this wild harp of mine, And tell of all the sweet content, In this pure heart of thine. A LIFE LESSON. ''That sleeps so sweetly at the feet Of this majestic tree; While storms may rend his rugged limbs, They'll bring no harm to thee. "You rest in safety all the night, And smile the livelong day; And if a tear comes in thine eyes, 'Twill but a moment stay. "And all who come and see thee here. Will love thee, little flower, While towering oak may prostrate lie. In any evil hour. ^'Oh tell me- flower, how sweet it is. To have a simple heart, And humbly, with a tender tone, Its loving thoughts impart. "Deep swelling strains, like furious winds. May rend the heart in twain, And though the world hears wondrous things. The heart lies crushed with pain." MY JOURNEY. I MAY Start on my journey to-morrow, When the morn comes freshly and fair; When the birds will be singing so sweetly, Their songs in the still morning air. And the fair flowers too will be blooming, Their breath will come in at the window. For the breeze will find where they're sleeping. And bring in their odors I know. But I shall not care for the morning; For the birds, nor their singing so sweet; Nor the flowers so fresh in the dewdrops; Nor the breeze where the sweet odors meet. For I shall be starting, be starting; On my journey so long and so far; ril not miss the birds nor the flowers. Nor think yet to carry them there. There are flowers all blooming in beauty; And birds singing sweeter I know; And breezes far softer and gentler; In the land that I'm going to. I may start on my journey at noonday. When the world is all flooded with light; And the gay throngs are passing and passing. All decked in their garments so bright. 20 MY JOURNEY. They will tell of the feast and its pleasures; Of the friends they are gathering to meet; Of the dreams and the hopes they now cherish; Of their love so tender and sweet. But I shall not care for the noonday; I shall not care for the feast; For the friends, nor their dreams nor their hoping, Nor the love that I know will not last. For I shall be starting, be starting. On my journey, so long and so far; There'll be friends, and feasting, and loving; I know I shall find them all there. I may start on my journey at evening. When the worry and the work are all done; And the cares that have come from the morning, Have fled from my face and are gone. The friends I have loved long and cherished. They will gather and stand all around; And weep when they speak of the parting, Of the bed made under the ground. But I shall not care for the evening. The worry, the work, and the care; Nor the friends, though they still may be weeping; Nor the bed so narrow out there: For I shall be starting, be starting — On my journey, so long and so far; I shall carry no friends, and no worry, And the bed, I shall leave it out there. MY JOURNEY. 21 I may start on my journey at midnight, When the blackness of darkness I see; When the lights are all faded and vanished, An4 no one is standing with me. But I shall not care for the midnight; For the blackness of darkness around; Nor the lights that have faded and vanished; Nor the friends that are not to be found: For I shall be starting, be starting — On my journey, so long and so far; Where the lights will be burning forever, And the darkness will never come near. 22 THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. Time flies away on the wings of the wind, Bearing off treasures I never can find; Sad are the words that he flings back to me, As he flies on the wind to the uttermost sea. 'What you have lost, and what I have gained, It is needless to weep for, I never yet deigned, To pause for a moment, for pleading or prayer. From the brave, or the strong, the young, or the fair. 'Treasures, vast treasures, I hold in my hand, That I grasped on the sea, and I grasped on the land, But now they are mine, and I bear them away. To a land where your faltering feet may not stray. 'The soft locks of childhood, its sunny blue eyes, With the light and the color they caught from the skies. Its frail slender form, growing chill in the wind, And sweet lisping words, you never will find. =The young maiden's blush, like the bloom on the peach. Or like the pink shells, that lie on the beach, The vows of her lover, his prayers and his tears. His transports of rapture, all his hopes and his fears. 'They are mine, they are mine, and I bear them away, No strength, and no power, my flight can e'er stay; And no pearl is so precious, no gem is so bright, Not the sun by the day, — not the stars by the night. THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. 23 ''The young mother, smiling with love on her child, Stronger than death, though her eyes are so mild. Braver than warrior, though her words are so soft. They are mine, they are mine, and I've borne them aloft. "The fair young bride, in her white silken robes. Beneath which her heart, with its joy now throbs. Her soft drooping eyes, dark fringed from the light, That burns in the bridegroom's, too dazzlingly bright. '•They are mine, they are mine, and my hand holds them tight, I bear them in triumph, far, far, from his sight: 'Tis useless to search through the chambers and^halls. She will never heed more nor answer his calls. "The crown of the king, his sceptre and throne. They are mine, and not his, and away 1 have borne, The things that he prized, above all on the earth, And he stands now, as helpless, as a babe at its birth. "The wreath made of laurels, fresh, living and green, I snatched from the brow, where in pride it had been. The wreath and the pride — They are mine, they are mine. And low lies the victor, while I fly on the wind. "Long strings of bright pearls I bear in my hand. That I've found on the sea, and I've found on the land, They are the tears of the pure, the gentle, and good, And I fly on the wind, to bear them to God." 24 SING ME A SONG. Sing me a song love, Something that's gay; Whiling all care, And sorrow away. Sing from thy young heart, Love's simple song; As a sweet stream love, Glideth along. Fret not ambition ! Awake not desire ! Both of them, fiercely — Burn, as a fire. But sing me a song love, Soft as the dove's; Sweet as low music. That whispers of love. Slumbering let memory. Lie on her couch ; On her still form love. Lay not a touch. Else I shall turn me, Away from thy song. Back to the stream love. That's gliding along. DAY BY DAY. 25 Passes a home love, Hid, from thy sight Fair in its beauty. Bright in its light. Oh, sing me a song love, And let me forget, All, that I knew love, Or ever, we met. DAY BY DAY. Day by day I rise resolving That the vain and foolish cares Shall not vex my soul immortal ; Filling life with endless snares. Day by day I rise resolving. Yet some lofty aim to find, That shall fasten high endeavor On the yearning soul and mind. Yet each day by day uprising, Still the little round begins, With its festering cares and follies. With its low and groveling sins. While each day by day uprising, I with longing fierce and wild, Strive to break from bondage galling. As with giant strives the child. 26 IF I HAD GOLD, If I had gold what would I buy, A palace wide, and a palace high, And spreading lands and herds and flocks. And shepherds to tend them with pipes and crooks. Would I buy me a lordly mansion fair, In the grandest town and dwell in it there. Would it glisten and beam with all that is bright. Through the livelong day and the livelong night. Would I buy me a friend for every hour, An.d a lovely wife with a syren's power, To lead me away from the dangerous coast, Where my ship might be wrecked and my life be lost. And when I had bought all of these could I buy Day after day that I might not die. Life for my soul and life for my heart. And spare me from all of my treasures to part. Oh if I had gold what would I buy, A home on the earth or a home in the sky. The one I must leave and I know not when, And the other lies far where I never have been. Ah! I see it is plain I never would know. What I would do with my gold or no, And perhaps after all it may be the best, That my heart and my soul are still spared the test. 27 SUMMER. « A THOUSAND hearts have sought for gifts, To crown thee queen of all the year, A thousand striven still, to paint. The beauty of the robes you wear. To sing as thou dost, in the fields, When reapers mow the heavy grain ; Or in the meadow like thy lark, With his exulting free born strain. They've sought to paint for us thy fruits. The beauty of thy gorgeous flowers ; The dreamy gliding of thy days. That drop away in mellow hours. And all have sought to tell in vain, In vain to paint, in vain to sing ; As well might children idly strive, A crown upon the sun to fling. For who can measure half thy wealth, Or half thy wond'rous beauty show; That on ten thousand hills and fields, With never, stinted hand you throw. Oh who can learn the myriad songs, That echo from thy groves and bowers. When universal love doth teach, Still new born notes for every hour. 28 CASTLES IN THE AIR. Methinks when time, lets slip the chord, And flies to other worlds than this, That angels then from Paradise, Shall teach thy songs and paint thy bliss. CASTLES IN THE AIR. Hope builds her castles in the air. And fancy ekes them wondrous fair ; She gilds the arching roof with gold, Their lofty towers stand high and bold. The porches, halls, and chambers wide, On every hand meet and divide ; And windows bringing in the light Make all a scene too fair, too bright. So wondrous fair, so wondrous bright, We see it e'en in darkest night ; The gorgeous splendors daze the eye. As we in rapture draw it nigh. And then, alas ! they all are gone ; Lost as in mist that veils the morn — Or flying on a sudden wind. To leave no corner stone behind. Fair castles, oh, how oft has she Builded you strong and firm for me. And then if I but turned my eye, They fled, and left me but a sigh. 29 THE heparted day. Ano THER day has come and gone ; Another night crept in ; Like some dark shadow in the place, Where light, and joy, hath been. Another day hath come and gone ; I cannot tell, nor see, In what strange land the day was born, Nor where her grave may be. But this I know, too well I know. She broke full many a heart ; And left full many an empty place. Ere yet she did depart. And this I know, too well I know, She will come back no more. To heal the hearts she idly broke, Nor lovely things restore. Then let her go ! Oh let her go ! Upon her darkened way ; Another full as false, as fair, Will come as long to stay. Then let her go — yes, let her go — Nor weep to see her leave — She only came, to kindle flame ; And loving hearts bereave. 30 LOVE'S NAME. Pray tell me thy name?" I said as Love came, Tripping, and skipping. With all his equipping.* My name is Delight, You will find I'm right," And he bended his bow — A swift arrow to throw. With unerring sight — With his skill and his might — And it fastened its dart, Deep down in my heart. Oh Love!" I now cried, (The blood dripped from my side,) : You've wounded my heart With your falsehood and dart. •Not pleasure, but pain. Will I e'er see again ; For awake or asleep, I must fear and must weep. ' For the wound in my heart, Made deep w^ith your dart, I know now your name, It is sorrow, and shame. WISHES. 31 ''No skill can e'er heal, No prayer — no appeal, My poor heart can free, From the wound you gave me." WISHES. A FEATHER, on the flying wind — A treasure found, within a dream — The echo of a sweet, sad song — A quiver of a bright sunbeam. Upon the air the thistle's down — A scented breath where flowers have been- The recollection of the dawn. That ushers love's bright morning in. And what is lighter — tell me, say? And I will paint the wish for thee; Ah yes — I do recall it now. The vow you made me yesterday. 32 PATIENCE. Oh, Patience, with 3'our toiling hands. And sweet pale lips, that smile, On every weary task outspread, And tell of rest erewhile. How beautiful your gentle face ; How tender your caress : To restless weary ones that faint, 'Neath burdens that oppress. What sweet soft words you teach the young. How gently, lead their steps. Across life's rough and rugged way^ That else would prove too steep. Sweet friend, I love you, though your eyes • Are often full of tears; And though I followed you all sad. With less of hope, than fear. Yet still 1 love to hear you tell, Of what you yet will bring ; I love to hear you, at your toil — Life's holiest anthems sing. And now I pray you leave me not. By day, nor yet by night, Cheer me, when I am weary. With Hope's bright beacon light. DISAPPOINTMENT. 33 It may not gleam on heights I know, Nor valleys I have seen, Nor yet on any rugged sea, Where I have ever been. But tell me, tell me — it is there. Awaiting still my soul ; Where rugged hills, nor darkened vales. Nor angry seas may roll. DISAPPOINTMENT. The saddest of all the spirits, That wait on the hearts of men. Art thou, oh Disappointment ! When we think how it all has been. The dreams, and the hopes, and the loving The pride, and ambition, and greed; How it fared with our toil and our serving- How it fares to-day with our need. 34 LOVE IS ALWAYS YOUNG. Nav, do not chicle the child good friends, ' Nor wish he were away, For love is always young, good friends. And idle pranks will play. Oh ! Love is always young good friends. And thoughtless in his sport ; He heedeth not, he careth not, For things of good report. He heedeth not, he careth not, For gems or glittering gold ; Yet for these baubles oft I grieve. Unwittingly he's sold. But oh! it must be cruel, friends. The pure thus to betray, And love is ever young and pure ; I pray you let him stay. He sports, when life is in its spring, With light and bended bow. And well, I ween, the lovely child. His arrows keen, can throw. But with caress, and tender kiss. Each wound he seeks to heal, And sure a gentle heart like his. For all, the pain must feel. THE OFT TOLD TALE. 35 Oh Love! is sweet, when life is young, And trusting hearts are pure ; And love is always young, my friends, 'And ever shall endure. THE OFT TOLD TALE. When I was young, and life was fair, And hope seemed smiling everywhere, I loved the world. I thought my friends would all prove true, And leave me nothing else to do, But love and trust. But when the years flew quickly by. And hope her pinions oft did try, And fled away; 1 found the world I thought so fair, By winter winds was oft made bare, And chill'd my soul. That hope, a bird of summer's day, Would not abide the winter's sway. Not e'en for me. I found the friends I deemed so true, Had left me something else to do. But love and trust. 36 THE LOST CAUSE. There is a grave so deep, so deep^ That thousand heroes in it sleep; There is a vigil lasting long, As days, and months, and years are long Unclosed that grave will ever be, Where we our gory dead may see; Unfinished too the song and prayer. That hope long left to dark despair. Where all the Southern oceans roll. Their waves like funeral bells still toll; In all the breadth of Southern sky, I'he stars reply — "They cannot die." Still let the open grave attest, They were the bravest and the best; Each brook in Southern field that runs, Tells how 'twas finished — how begun. And streamlets babble as a child. Or maniac in her fancies wild, Of scenes they saw by day, by night, Done under heaven and in God's sight. The very wmds above them sigh, O'er what by stream and roadside lie. And mountains high above them all, Still answer back the trumpet's call. THE LOST CAUSE. 37 The birds by night sing requiems here, O'er what to every heart is dear, O'er what to every heart is lost, Though paid the cost — Oh paid the cost. Great God can human hearts forget. So long as suns shall rise and set; Can human hearts once born to hope. Live but to long for graves to ope. We lay our fingers on our lip, And drop by drop the gall cup sip. Thankful to feel that now to-day, God rules the world and will alway. Thankful to know that heaven is near. And there an everlasting ear, A father's heart, a judge's decree. That erreth not for thou or me. 38 SFIiING IS COMING. Spring is coming, for her footprints, On the meadows all are seen; She hath brought her lovely flowers. Scattering them where snows have been. She hath crossed the little streamlet, And it bubbles of her still; She hath crossed the brook and river, And the threadlike little rill. And they all to banks and blossoms, Whisper what the spring has brought, What the magic of her presence. Over all their way has wrought. She has brought the birds to welcome. All the blossoms as they bloom, Making fair the barren places. Blighted by the winter's gloom. She hath brought the bees whose humming, Over all the flowers fair, Fills with drowsy, dreamy music, All the busy scented air. She hath brought the breezes whispering Many a thing they will not tell, Of the lands where they have lingered, And where lovely things must dwell. SPRING IS COMING. She hath brought young kine and lambkin , Bleating plaintive in the fields ; Where in sunny nooks and shelters, .Tenderly her young she shields. She hath brought the old renewal, Of the memories of youth ; Mixing things all false and cruel, With their tenderness and truth. She hath brought the young, I thank her, Days they will reaiember long, I.iving in their hearts forever, Thoughts, and words, and sweetest song. She hath brought for all a blessing. Teeming full and running o'er, For the rich who gaily meet her, For the faint and shivering poor. For the sick who watch her blossoms. Hear her sweet birds sing again, She hath brought ere they shall leave them, Things to steal their hearts from pain. Things to whisper climes awaiting, Where the winter comes no more, Where the pain; and fear, and weeping. For the weary will be o'er. She hath brought, oh blessed spirit ! Angels walking at her side, Who with hands anointed scatter Countless blessings wide and wide. 39 40 SPRING IS COMING. And we welcome her and love her, As no other we may love ; While we journey farther, farther. Sweeter will her coming prove. Till beginning we will count them, Each fair spring time, o'er and o'er, Bringing all their gathered treasures, From the days that past before. And departing left us leaflets, From the book of memory dear. We shall read with smiles too fleeting. But with many a lingering tear. Welcome her ! Oh birds and blossoms ! Welcome her ye busy bees ! Welcome her ye kine and lambkins ! Welcome her each whispering breeze ? Welcome her, oh hearts exhausted ! Worn with cold and weary care. Welcome her ye sick and fainting ! She will point the healing there. Welcome her ye rich, she bringeth. Things your treasures cannot buy; She will comfort you while weeping, If with swiftest wings they fly. Welcome her, ye poor and needy, She is tender with your hearts; She will whisper many a sweet hope, Ere in leaving she departs. SPRING IS COMING. Whisper -many a sweet voiced promise, Of reward for all your toil ; Of abundant harvest reaping, You shall garner from the soil. Welcome her, ye fair and lovely, Happy with the spring and youth, Happy with your love and trusting, Never doubting once its truth. Welcome her, ye old and weary. Trembling, tottering on your way, It is sweet to pause and rest you, With her lovely things to-day. It is sweet to sit and count them, O'er, and o'er, and o'er again; All the happy days she brought you. Dropping out each weight of pain. Through your fingers, drop them, drop them. In the stream now rushing past ; But the joys, the things of beauty. You will, old hands, hold them fast. Welcome her, my heart, I bid you, For I know you love her well. There are things that she will whisper. That you long to hear her tell. Mornings, noons and evenings passing. Faster than a bird can fly; But she left you things you treasure. That no gold on earth can buy. 42 LEFT BEHIND. My thoughts all behind me, My hopes are lagging too, And my eyes are backward turning To keep them still in view. The world is whirling — whirling — I grow dizzy with the round; Grow sick with broken treasures — That by the way are found. For changes, reckless changes. Are ever sweeping by — I cannot find the world 1 knew. And strange too, seems the sky. Its far off blue is paler, Its clouds look dark and low; And from their distant chambers The cold winds ever flow. And Oh, the strange cold faces, That look at me in scorn, Because I am old and feeble. Am weary and forlorn. I think I must be tarrying Too late along the way; While there is naught of promise, That bids me longer stay. LEFT BEHIND. 43 1 hear what others tell them, Of bright days still ahead; Of all the glorious happenings, . That shall be — When I am dead. And .the world seems whirling faster, And hope seems farther left. While I cling to that last pleasure — Of which I am bereft. The light that lies behind me Is too distant in the land; And in utmost, utmost distance, What I crave to understand. So with lagging, and with striving. With bewilderment and pain; I am treading on a pathway, I shall never pass again. Oh earth, you may whirl onward ! Oh hearts, you may believe ! But the ringing changes promise, And they promise to deceive. 44 THERE ARE GEMS IN THE SEA, LOVE. There are gems in the sea, love, Bright gems in the skies, But none of them gleam, love. As bright as thine eyes. There are roses that blush, love, By hill, stream, and vale. But the rose on thy cheek, love. Makes them droop and grow pale. There are soft winds that sigh, love, -With their low tender tone, But they still their own voice, love. To list to thy own. There are lilies, fair lilies Like flakes of pure snow, But none are so fair, love, As thy throat and thy brow. And no crown, with its gold, love. With its priceless bright gem. Was brighter, or dearer, Than thy ringlets that gleam. In the bright light of morning. In the sunset of eve, Where the last rays are lingering. Reluctant to leave. THERE ARE GEMS IN THE SEA, LOVE. 45 Oh ! maiden, thy red lips, Hath stolen away All my thoughts, and the words I was striving to say. For brighter and sweeter, And dearer by far, Than blossom, or gem, Or bright morning star, Or all I have told thee, Or can tell thee again, That lives on the mountain, Or lives in the plain. That flies in the air, Or floats on the sea, Are those lips, when they whisper, Their deep love for me. I forget there is sorrow — I forget there is pain — All words of the wise Are whispered in vain. I only remember My heart is thine own. Like the dove from the ark. From my breast it has flown. 46 SILENCE. There's silence in the earth asleep, Deep silence in the sky, So still I hear my pulses beat, My bosom heave its sigh. While thought with ever restless strength. Still vainly strives to find, The hidden things beyond her reach. That bai^e heart and mind. She starts her wildest theories. Her boldest visions fling, Into the thinker's startled face, That life and death can bring. She reaches her unlicensed hand. Across ten thousand years, And grapples with their mysteries. Nor warning heeds, nor fears. Amid the awful silence. How blasphemous seems thought. To strive to find, amid the dark. How the Great Cause has wrought. To strive to find amid the dark. Lights glittering chambers vast, And one by one the secret things, Of time to be and past. SILENCE. 47 How boldly does she question me, Of great creation's dawn; If, as one feeble ray it came, Or as resplendent morn. Of who and what behind that hour, Did think and throb with life ; Of who with what contending foe. Waged nature's ceaseless strife. From whence the pulse that throbbed the' world. With first its threaded rill, That on through fields, and streams, and seas, The myriad forms did fill. And whence, oh whence? that mystic thing, In terror, men name soul, That seems beyond and over all, From some far depth to roll. Bringing a low strange whispering, Of things that we would know, Then as a vapor, faint recedes, With nought to tell or show. But ever, ever comes again, At times we may not think, With words that' in the heart will fall, As drops in deep wells sink. We do not hear the sound too far. For any ear to hold ; But well we know they reach some depth, No human eye beholds. 48 OVER, AND OVER AGAIN. Oh thought! you throb my pulses wild, With mighty surging waves, That sweep o'er every living thing, As in one mighty grave. Wherein lies all that I would claim. Believe, or hope, or love, And underneath its buried depth, Grim doubt and terror move. I fly from silence, night and thought, And seek relief in prayer, Beyond all silence, night and thought, I know that God is there. OVER, AND OVER AGAIN. Oh heart beset with longing. Oh life with your empty show, There is still the same sad history, In every land we go. The bird still sings in its iron cage. With the wide free world beyond. The boldest lark with its baffled wing, Sinks wearily back on the ground. The stream in the fairest vale still frets. Its narrow banks between. Its pent up, restless, waves beat fierce, 'Gainst flowing margins green. OVER, AND OVER AGAIN. 49 For the swell of the mighty ocean, With its distant rolling tide, Calls the hast'ning stream from the beauty That lies on every side. Over, and over, and over, From every land we hear. The plea for a wider freedom, A flight from ills too near. Over, and over, and over. Comes the cry of the baffled heart, That sinks from heights too lofty. Where it erst did boldly start. And over, and over, and over, Comes the wail of a great despair, From the thing that is broken and shattered. And bleeding in anguish there. But still, oh world ! you write it. Over and over again. The strife \vith bonds for freedom. For pleasure with the grasp of pain. 5* !;o A FRAGMENT. I HEAR the swell of time's dark sea, Around the world roll restlessly ; I hear the far off voices speak, Each in their tones as waters break On the sharp stones, or on the sands. Smooth drifted on the silver strands. Far, far across the sea I look, With yearnings that 1 scarce can brook, To leap upon the tide and go Where smoother waters ebb and flow. And where the voice is clear and full,. Nor dying in its accents dull. That backward sends a wild refrain. As of a distant heart in pain. Oh sea ! with broken rush and flow, Where do your wasted waters go ? What pilot heads the mighty stern? And where' s the bourne, oh, where's the bourne? Again, the swell comes rolling in. Again, the yearnings wild begin To leap upon the tide and go Far, far from all the wrecks below. A SO/VG. You say my songs are all too sad. And bid me merrier sing ; You cannot have a merry song From a bird with a broken wing. You cannot have a happy face With tears upon the cheek ; For pain will ever have its voice, The breaking heart must speak. And plaintive sorrow ever makes Sweet music's tone her own ; The heart sings sweetest when it breaks In anguish all alone. The cold, hard steel must enter in The poor heart's bleeding core ; And then the life blood, and the song, They both together pour. 52 IN VAIN. I saw a meteor fill the sky With a blazing light as it hurried by ; I looked again, and the light was gone, And I stood in the shadows of night alone. I heard the shouts of wild acclaim Ring on the air with a hero's name ; I listened again, and the air was still ; No echo awoke in the heart its thrill. And I said, oh ! meteor lost in the night, From whence did you come with your mystic light ; And I said, oh man ! with your mighty spell, In what far land, from what deep well Did you draw the waters of your strange, sweet life, Burning the soul, or calming its strife. Grappling the heart and hushing its throb, As a giant holds the child he would rob. No light in the sky came backward to tell ; No voice called back from the hidden well ; And I stood in the night with a fierce despair, With the light all gone from the darkened air. With the magic voice and the wild acclaim. Past and gone, as a broken dream ; And I said, oh soul ! that is baffled in pain, You will search the earth and the sky in vain. WHAT IS LOVE? 53 There is never a trace of the meteor's path, And deeper than aught that this world hath, Lies the fountain you seek and will never find, Where 'the heavens give drink to the thirsting mind, Where the mighty soul quaffs deep and strong, And gathers strength for her life's great song, Whose mystic echoes strange and sweet, Reach where the earth and the heavens meet. Then in the distance far, too far. Beyond the reach of the boldest ear, Die with an anguished sound of pain, And we know we listen and search in vain. WHAT IS LOVE? Love is a gift of silver or gold ; Love is a fire that will ne'er grow cold ; Love to the eye and the feet is a light ; Love to the heart is a fearful blight. Love is a pearl of the rarest price ; You may buy, and pay for it, once, twice, thrice ; And then, poor heart, it may never be thine, Though 'twill scatter thy hopes to the "fickle wind. 54 THE LAST LOOK. Friends, look upon this pallid face, And t'n the folded hands, And on the gathered feet that lie So still beneath their bands. And tell me, oh ! I pray thee tell If this is all of life, That here the rushing sea must stop. Forever cease its strife ? That on the broken shore its waves Along the sands must lie ; A vapor that is spent and lost, Beneath a burning sky. Oh ! tell me friends, I pray thee tell. If this were worth the pain, This vapor floating from the land, Nor ever seen again ? This thing we cannot ever touch. So filled with thought divine ; How deeper does it rise or sink Than plummets measured line ? Oh friends ! I pray thee speak and tell, What essence this may be. That's fled from pallid face and hands, As mist flies from the sea ? THE LAST LOOK. Oh tell ! oh tell ! I pray thee tell ! If I shall ever find My answer by the sounding sea, Or on the rushing wind ? Lie still, lie still, ye pallid things, Face, lips, and hands, and feet, After your weary toiling, I know your rest is sweet. And eyes, beneath your drooping lids, Ne'er lift your light again ; There are wild breakers on the shore, And answering cries of pain. Sleep, sleep, the labor all' is o'er, And fate has had her will. She can do nought with thee pale shape, That lies so calm and still. As here I stand and gaze on thee, I seem so plain to see, A weary, weary traveler. Drive on by land and sea. Until, when he is worn and spent, Along the burning way. He finds an ever flowing well. And pauses there to stay. He drinks till heart and soul are full, With water pure and sweet, Then when the shadows fall away, With rested hands and feet, 55 56 DUTY. So gently into slumber falls, As falls the shades around ; Without a murmured dream aloud. Without a word shaped sound. DUTY. Her face is fair, but sad withal, There are so few who heed her call ; There are so few who willing come, To bear the heavy burden home. I look at her through all the years, And still her eyes are full of tears; Upon her lips the same sweet tone, Pleads still to have the task all done. And I to-night, I look with pain, To see how oft she pleads in vain. To feel that in the time to be, She'll neither call nor plead with me, 57 BEAUTIFUL DAY. Bright beautiful day ! How, I wish you would stay And be with me alway. Your skies are so bright, In their soft sunny light ; I forget the dark night. So blue are your eyes, I think their bright dyes, Came from Heaven's fair skies. Your breath is as sweet As the breezes I meet. On swift noiseless feet, That come from the bowers ; From their fair laden flowers. In the sweet morning hours. Flying, flying, flying away,. As swiftly fair day. Not a moment to stay, As thou, with thy dreams, And thy bright gleaming beams, On fields and on streams. Oh! lovely fair day, Not a moment you stay, To hear what I say. BEAUTIFUL DAY. To listen, to heed, How I pray, how I plead; Did you hear what I said? I think with your breeze, From the flowers and trees, From the rose, and hearts-ease, You are stealing their bloom; Their breath of perfume ; You're sealing their doom. Though short is your stay. You've snatched them away. With your breeze and your ray. Too sudden you dart Your rays in their heart ; They quiver and start. And soon they will droop, Leaf by leaf they will drop, Will die, when they droop. beautiful day ! Ere you came here to stay. Where wast thou bright day? Now where wilt thou go? Where' 11 thy sweet breezes blow? 1 crave so to know? On what field or lake. Will you make the day break. For sweet mercy's sake : BEAUTIFUL DAY. And scatter the night, With the soft dawning light Of thy blue eyes so bright. Oh! I feel in my heart, You're stealing a part Of the life in my heart. Will you ever come back, By your own viewless track. With the treasures you take? Will you bring to the rose, On your breeze as it goes. Whither, no one knows? Will you bring back its bloom. Its breath of perfume- Will you unseal its doom? And the whispering trees. And' the sweet hearts-ease. Will you bring back to these. Fair day, when you come, Their beauty and bloom, From the shadow and gloom? And Oh ! tell me, I pray, Will you bring me, bright day. With your soft dawning ray Will you bring back the part, You stole from my heart, As I saw you depart? 59 6o ONE MORE. Alas! — you are gone ! In the dark you are gone ! In the dark you were born. ONE MORE. One more experience, bitter and hard, Of the loves of the world, And of their reward. One more return, thankless and cold. For a love that was true, And tenderly told. One more light, put out in the heart. That might have grown brighter When others depart. One more jewel, lost from the breast, That might have gleamed fairer Than all of the rest. One more hope, left there to die. That might have been borne In the heart, to the sky. One more heart, dropped by the way. That yet may be longed for. When others betray. 6i TO HOPE. Oh Hope ! I thought your drooping wing Was broke — was broken, bird ! I never thought again on earth, To hear your — whispered word. I never thought that you and I, Across the desert waste. Would tread with bounding hasty feet, To reach some happy place. I never thought that you and I, Upon the same fleet craft. Would sail again o'er life's broad sea, With fair winds, fore and aft. I never thought, oh smiling Hope ! That we would ever find Sweet Faith, still standing at the helm, To catch each favoring wind. But now, I see your spreading wings. High — high above my head. Disdainful, spurning every ill, That now is — or has fled. I hear your song as ever sweet, The words are in my ear; You promise Hope — you promise things I longJiave cherished dear. 6* 62 HAPPINESS, [EARTHLY.) And oh ! I pray thee deal me fair, Nor mocking fly from me, To leave me on the desert waste — With wrecked craft on the sea. And Hope, sweet Hope — when all is o'er. And my last sail is spread — When all the wild and burning waste My weary feet shall tread. Then fly with me, Oh Hope ! sweet Hope ! 'Till I within the gate Shall see it closed on every ill. Of hapless, human f^te. HAPPINESS. {^EARTHLY.) A DREAM, — made up of wishes, hopes, of aspirations, and intense desire, of giddy pleasures idle round of games and sports. Of fashion's cheap reward for virtue, bartered for her gewgaws gay — Of love's soft wooing, and his warm caress — Of luxury's most soothing ease, and wealth's deceitful promise of fulfilling all — 63 THE SAILOR'S FAREWELL. My ship is in the bay, love, The sails are all unfurled ; I start upon a voyage long. On seas that swim the world. And on their briny waters, love, My ship will sailing be; And now I come to bid farewell, A long farewell to thee. I must kiss thee on thy brow, love. And on thy sweet red lips ; Thy brow, like foam upon the waves. That wild in frolic leaps. Nay, do not turn away thy face. To hide the starting tear ; It only makes me love thee more. And wish to hold thee here. Here — Here against my heart that loves. Loves thee and thee alone ; Oh say that you will love me still, When long and far I'm gone. And will you watch the sea at morn. And wonder where I slept ; And think upon this parting hour. And how we both have wept. 64 THE SAILOR'S FAREWELL. And when the noon is blazing full, Upon the burning sea ; Will you look upon the bounding waves, And send your thoughts to me. And when the night grows dark as death, And shuts the sea from view ; You will think of me I know, my love, As I will think of you. And I will hear you say your prayers. And see your clasped hands ; Though I may be full many a league. From this, our native land. And I will hear you pray for me, With these sweet lips of thine; And brine will be within the sea. And in these eyes of mine. I'll never, never, doubt you; And you must never doubt, Though all the world is dark within, And all is dark without. For I will sail around the world. And come to thee once more; And you must come and meet me, love, When my ship comes to the shore. And now farewell — a long farewell. My love is like this sea — As deep, as wide, — it has no end, Nor has my love for thee. WEARINESS. 65 Now kiss me, love, with those sweet lips. And I will kiss thy brow; The ship is moving in the bay, And I must leave thee now. Farewell — Farewell, now watch the sea, And I will watch the sky; I know there's one, will guard thee well. In that bright world on high. WEARINESS. Wailing wind come cease your moaning. I am weary and would rest; Tell me no more of your roaming In the wild and stormy West ! For I am weary — 1 am weary. And the sands are burdensome That number out the hours all dreary Of a day so wearisome. Oh, the days that lie behind me; Oh, the days that lie before; Would that thou couldst bear them with thee, Where I ne'er could see them more. 66 . DREAMS. How strange, and wild, and all unreal. Are' the events in our dreams; How strangely, wildly, mystical, They mingle life's extremes. The days of the youth are fevered, With restless longing vain. To look in the years that lie ahead, At their sum of joy or pain. But waking eyes may never see. What lies in the future's store, Yet dreams are wild, and dreams are free. To leap the years before. And now they spread before his eyes, In the visions of the night; What in the hidden future lies. Through many a long year's flight. Ah! bright is the life the dream doth paint, Too bright for the world I ween. For it frees the heart from all restraint. That is, or that hath been. Within the slumbers of an hour, Before the old man's eyes. By some unseen mysterious power, The dismal present flies. DREAMS. 67 And leaves instead the happy years, That flew so quickly by, When his youthfal heart flung off its fears, And saw with a hopeful eye. Oh, who can tell how bright they seem. Those happy days of yore; When they live again in the old man's dream, Who forgets they are no more. They bring to the lonely widow, Whose long, long days are sad. The strong young form whose faithful vow. Was kept through good and bad. Alas ! there is no tenderness, In the widow's gloomy days; But dreams of the night bring his caress. And his love that ne'er decays. They bring to the broken hearted, Who live in deep despair, The joys, the hopes, that all have fled., In place of the pangs that are. They paint in the bankrupt's hovel, A stately palace fair; And not a whisper comes to tell, 'Tis founded on the air. He sees how gorgeous splendors. Clothe every hall and room; And gay parterres and fairy bowers, With brightest flowers bloom. 68 DREAMS. He hears the tread of his young wife's feet; Her rustling silken robes; Her voice as music low and sweet; Her young heart's happy throbs. Ah ! the man so poor and lonely, Hath forgotten he's poor and lone; He forgets what doth in the church-yard lie — What the grass hath overgrown. He forgets how the stately palace, Hath another master found — How another wife its halls now grace — How his own lies under the ground. Oh blissful, blissful dreaming, That hath power to chase away, And from the suffering heart can fling. The torments of the day. A mother by the cradle sits, And weeps to look within, As the light of the pale moon gleams and flits, O'er the place where the babe hath been. But the weeping eyes grow heavy. And the weary heart beats slow, For sleep hath brought tranquility. That only sleep can know. And now again, the babe doth lie On its little couch of down; While the mother sings her lullaby In low and mellow tone. dreams; 69 Oh, the baby dreams, within her dream. Of angels drawing nigh, And o'er its face the silver gleam ^ Falls, as they pass it by. And then the child awakes, and lo ! No more the mother sings — Why the angels came, she well doth know — For the baby too hath wings. She reaches out her hand to grasp The little form, so dear — Upon the empty air they clasp — Her darling is not there. The dream is past, but never more, Can the sorrowing heart forget, How the child away the angels bore — How it lives with the angels yet. A little orphan, lone and cold, Falls, shivering, asleep; No loving arms the child enfold — Nor watch o'er her slumbers keep. But now the cold from the child is gone, A dream brings a summer sky, And spreads it o'er the orphan lone, Where she in the dark doth lie. No more alone is the orphan left. To shiver and moan and weep — No more is the little heart bereft, In the visions of her sleep. 70 DREAMS. In a garden decked with flowers bright, Of every hue and shade; She stands once more in wild delight, Where long ago she played. And there, amid the clustering vines, Glance her mother's hands as white, As the roses on the branch she twines, O'erburdened with their weight. Her robes are soft, and light, and gay- Her gentle face is fair — And in her eyes love's brightest ray Hath made its dwelling there. Oh, lovely is the garden spread. Beneath the deep blue sky; — Bet rarer beauties crown the head, 'Mid the roses hanging high. Oh, bright and happy is the day, The child sees in her dream — Should evil ways that heart betray, Far brighter still 'twill seem. A poor old mother, blind and deaf, Sits nodding by the fire; Her form is like the withered leaf. Crisped by the winter's ire. But underneath the drooping lid, A strange review comes by, Of all the long past years have hid, — The years, how quick they fly! DREAMS. For sitting thus, she has lived again — Within a winter's morn — Through many a joy, and many a pain, 'llie long, long years have borne. She romps, a child, on the smooth green lawn. With limbs so light and free; — She sees once more the morning dawn, On girlhood's liberty. And yet a brighter day doth beam — The fairest day of all — That comes in the long and checkered dream, A merry festival. Oh, the bridal eve! The bridal eve! — How the poor old heart doth beat; — How the withered breast doth fall and heave, In her dream, this day to meet. The day is borne by a breath a\vay, — Another comes instead, That's filled with merry sounds of play. And children's happy tread. The merry group comes trooping by; She counts them as they pass; — Why start the tears to the dimmed eye? Why sudden pales the face? Oh, the noblest heart, the fairest form. No more is numbered there; She feels that life hath lost its charm — Slow falls the burning tear. 72 DREAMS. Again, and again, the group comes by; — Again she counts them o'er; — Again the tears fall from her eye, For the one she counts no more. And now the old wife wakes to see. She sits in the world alone; No bridegroom's love, no children's glee,- They all — they all — are gone ! Within a prison's gloomy walls, A sad, pale captive dreams; — • He stands once more in his father's halls. With youth's unfettered limbs. 4"he tender mother's loving hands, Are nestling in his hair; And all around the captive stands, The forms that are so dear. His stately father, grave but mild, Looks proudly on his son; And now the gentlest, fairest child. That e'er the sun shone on — Hath wrapt her arms about his neck — Her arms so soft and white — She kisses now his pallid cheek, With red lips, cherry bright. A sudden noise — a breath of wind. That comes through the prison bar. Hath loosed the little arms that bind Such rapturous pleasures there. DREAMS. 73 Hath borne the dream, away, away. Beyond the captive's reach. And ]eft instead a gloomy day. By the sullen ocean's beach. Bright dreams; they are the gift of God- And come to all alike, Who on this weary earth have trod, The dull day's care to break. There is a gaudy, glaring room, Within the city's walls. Where no pure heart may ever come — No voice of virtue calls. Oh, would to God that no such place Within the world were found; — Oh, would to God, this deep disgrace No heart had settled round. Oh God ! my God, forgive the heart That wicked hearts betray; It is a cruel, cruel part, To lead the young astray. I dare not ask Thee to forgive The loathsome tempter vile; I cannot see how such can live Beneath a Saviour's smile. But oh ! how boundless is Thy love,. And Thy forgivings vast — They can the darkest stains remove That life hath overcast. 74 DREAMS. From loathsome, loathsome, haunjts like these, All friends of earth have turned; None e'er come here, to speak of peace. By all the world they're spurned. But God will never leave one soul. Without a warning voice; And sometimes dreams long years unroll. To plead for better choice. A pale, gaunt woman sleeps within This gaudy, glaring room; Her hours are numbered all by sin. Since first she left her home. Her home — she dares not think upon, " That blessed home of love. Since all the world hath cast a stone. Her loathsome guilt to prove. But ah ! her dreams are merciful — No whisper comes to tell. How her cup with sin is brimming full — How her steps take hold on Hell. Beside a little moonlit stream, The maiden stands once more; She hears the rippling in her dream. As it runs the pebbles o'er. And sweeter, sweeter music far. Falls on the sleeper's ear. Than voice of murmuring streamlets are, When listening love doth hear. DREAMS. 75 Beside the maiden stands a youth, Of noble mien and name. And stamped upon his face is truth — So doth the maiden deem. But love, alas! hath blinded eyes, And ears that will not heed; Hope paints the picture with her eyes; The picture's fair indeed : The little stream flows gently through The cottage garden neat. Where nestling flowers sleep in dew. And winds bear odors sweet. The cottage sits beneath the shade Of stately branching trees, And the green grass hath a carpet made, Where shadow from tli€ moonbeam flees. The cottage door is open wide — The moon shines brightly in — While round and round the soft winds glide, And creep the door within. The maiden comes with a light, light step, And lightsome loving heart, With a happy smile upon her lips. That knows no guile nor art. She bears within her bosom pure, Her lover's plighted vows, — The vows are true, she is full sure, No doubt her heart allows. 76 DREAMS. She stands a moment on the step, And turns to look once more, Where distant shadows round him creep. Then walks within the door. She passes on to where the light Shuts out the pure moon's rays — Oh, to the dreamer's eyes how bright, The scene she now surveys. Her father's form is- bowed by age — By weary weight of years — And round his head a silver crown. Like halo bright appears. And the dear old mother resting, From the burden of the day; Repeats to her heart how Israel's King Points out the better way. The Boo^k is open on her knees — Her eyes see dimly now — But oh, what faith and what sweet peace, Are stamped upon that brow. Her fair and gentle sister leans. By the window, open wide, And peers through the shade that intervenes, The moon's bright face to hide. About the room lies holy spell, Of purity and love — Of peaceful lives, that were spent well — Of promise from above. DREAMS. ^^ The spell falls on the maiden's heart, And checks its rapid beat; E'en thoughts of her lover now depart, From their enshrined seat. She walks to where her sister stands. With sweet face lily pale. And eyes bent on the radiant bands. Whose mysteries lie unveiled. She kisses her pale cheek tenderly. And winds her arms around The little form so slenderly, To aught of earth e'er bound. And then, with clasped hands they kneel — With heads bent meekly down — Ask for the old man's blessed seal The joys of the day to crown. The hand falls on the sleeper's head, — But ah! no blessings come; — 'Twas but a dream — and now 'tis fled; Her pure heart, and her home. Up springs the woman, pale and gaunt. And wildly laughs aloud. At horrid thoughts of sin, that haunt. And round her waking crowd. Poor blighted soul ! she thinks the dream Is still the living life; And the long years of sin, they seem With dreaming wildness rife. 78 OH ! SIGH NOT. Poor blighted soul! how fearful To wake from dreanis like these; She seeks the mad'ning cup to lull. And give a moment's ease. OH! SIGH NOT. Oh! sigh not for the poet's heart, It is too sad a thing — From all life's fairest hopes you part, Ere you with him can sing. Oh! sigh not for the poet's thoughts; Though bright, they are too strange — They fly too far away from earth, Too far, from its pleasures range. Oh ! sigh not for the poet's eyes — They, look too far away. Beyond the spheres, beyond the skies, In God's eternal day ! Oh ! sigh not for the poet's mind; 'Tis vexed with many a care; Strange things his wandering thoughts bring home; Too much they madly dare. Oh! sigh not for the poet's wreath: Its dew is all of tears— And fickle fancy binds it on. With many doubts and fears. 79 THE DAWN AND THE DAY. Along the dim horizon, I see the wakening dawn — She lifts her sleepy eyelids, And peeps upon the morn. Then bright and rosy blushing, She wakens wide and clear; And scatters light and beauty, On all things far and near, Upon the drowsy hilltops, Upon the valleys low. Where rests the herds in safety. She creeps on light tiptoe. And laughing, merry laughing — She wakens all she sees; The flocks and herds still sleeping — And the sweet birds in the trees. And then such trills of music — Such lowing with the kine, And tender bleat of lambkins, Blend with the bright sunshine. As wakens from their slumber, The farmer and his wife, In haste, to catch the morning hours, And fresh renew the strife. 8o THE DAWN AND THE DAY. The strife with fate, so grasping hard, And grudging to the poor; While still she piles his treasures. And heaps the rich man's store. And from their rosy slumbers, The little children bound. All heedless of the strife and care That yet's, so surely, found — All heedless of the worry. And of the poor man's toil; Of life's wild mad confusion. Its bustle and turmoil. God bless the little children. With hearts so fresh and pure; They will need Thy love and blessing For all they must endure. A thousand dawning mornings They may live to count and see; Oh, would that they could ever keep As close and near to Thee, As in this double dawning Of life and day to them; The Father's love is ever sure. Would theirs could be for Him. And now the morn advances, Stands full upon the earth; Clad with his shield and armor. And blazing, glittering girth. THE DAWN AND THE DAY. To-day — To-day — we call him, And mighty are his powers! Oh! many will fall before him, As proud and strong he towers. High — High above the things that were, And dreams of yet to be; He walks apace upon the land. And rides upon the sea. High! High, he strides above them all. Like mighty conquering foe; They fall all prostrate to the ground. Wherever he may go. To-day — O mighty conqueror ! Have pity on our hearts ! Their hopes, their loves, and fleeting hours. That all so soon depart. Pass on — Pass on — Oh conqueror ! And leave us what we love; The glass that holds our sands of life, So frail — Oh, do not move ! Pass on — thy crown is high enough ! Thy trophies piled full high; Why shouldst thou snatch the things we love, But just to^see them die. Walk on apace upon the earth. And ride upon the sea — To-morrow, on the threshold stands, And waits To-day, on thee. 82 GOLD. Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — Over how many fair, bright hopes have you rolled ? Over how much love, that was tender and sweet ? Over how many torn and bleeding feet? Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — How many hearts have you bought and sold ? How many hearts have you lost and found ? How many hearts have you crushed and bound ? Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — What mountain will lie, like your weight on the soul? What flood of lava will bury so deep As the soul you hold in your baneful keep? Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — You glitter like the eyes of the serpent bold; You clasp and hold in your deathly coil. With the grasp of a demon, that seeks to spoil. Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — Unloose your hold from my struggling soul — Unloose your clasp on my heart so tight ! Your hold has the clutch of a giant's might. Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — You are choking my voice with your fearful hold — You are blinding my eyes with your baneful light ! And I cannot see if my way be right. THE RAIN. 83 Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — How many hearts have you bought and sold ? How many hearts have you lost and found ? How many hearts have you crushed and bound ? Gold, Gold, gleaming gold — What has become of the hearts you sold ? What has become of the hearts you lost ? How can you reckon their fearful cost ? THE RAIN. Drop by drop the rain is falling, And to every leaflet calling, Ope thy cells and drink thy iill. Drop by drop I'm falling still. Drop by drop the rain's descending Every little leaflet bending With its jewel drop as clear As the glittering diamond dear. Every rose and poppy gay Is adorned with gems to-day. Every violet's eye so blue Has a tear within it too. All the fields, and all the hills, All the murmuring little rills. Are rejoicing, laughing, leaping — Every bending willow weeping. 84 THE RAIN. For the rain so gently dripping, From the clouds above us meeting, And their 'treasures as they go. Scattering on the fields below. Blessed rain 1 we think so little — Busy with our hopes so 'brittle, Of the treasures that you bring, While the silver spray you fling, Over all the land and sea; Over lake and over lea; But for thee our hopes so brittle, Growing less and less by little. Soon they all would fall away, And then leave us with the day Burning, parching, thirsting, dire Like the lurid fever's fire. 85 THE LITTLE BIRD'S ANSWER. Little bird, sing, I pray, All this balmy bright spring day. Sit thou on that blooming spray, And sing thy wildest, happiest lay. Thy sweet voice will comfort me, And I perchance will happy be. Drinking in thy melody. Forget what was, or yet may be. Thou hast forgot the winter's cold; Thy blithe heart will ne'er grow old; Nor sadder mem'ries will it hold, Than such as youthful heart enfold. Oh, little bird, teach me the art, To bear a gay and happy heart, N« r look no more when ills depart On what my dearest hopes did thwart. "My life is short, but long enough — My fare, you'd think, was very rough— My bed is made of common stuff. That would thy dainty taste rebuff. "No fashion ever trims my dress, 'Tis never more, and never less; Nor wears it half the comeliness. That plumes of other birds possess. S6 THE LITTLE BIRD'S ANSWER. '