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 COPYRFGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
ALLEGHENY and AURORA 
 
 AND 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 4^ 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs. SOPHRONIA BRINKLEY LYNCH 
 
 Copyright 1911, by 
 SOPHRONIA BRINKLEY LYNCH 
 

 ©cuasnaaa 
 
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 to 
 
 ^>9 
 
 ^ PREFACE 
 
 THE verses in this little volume were pro- 
 duced from time to time with no idea of 
 publishing them, but merety to gratify 
 the writer's desire to express her feelings. 
 They are, in the main, the result of musing and 
 meditation following great bereavements. Some 
 of her friends have asked for copies of them, and 
 they are now printed for private circulation only. 
 If, perchance, a copy should fall into the hands 
 of a critic, let it be remembered that the author, 
 not clauning to be a poet, yet clauns the right to 
 express her own thoughts and emotions in her 
 own way, so long as she does not compete with 
 others for popular applause or pecuniary benefits. 
 
 Mrs. SoPHEONiA Beinkley Lynch. 
 Washington, D. C, April 5, 1911. 
 
FAITH 
 
 precious Faith ! not mere belief thou art, 
 
 Not barren assent to the words of creeds, 
 
 But force, compelling righteous thoughts 
 and deeds, 
 By working Heaven's will upon the heart. 
 To man thou dost redeeming grace impart: 
 
 'Tis faith alone that satisfies his needs ; 
 
 'Tis faith that heals the heart that aches 
 and bleeds ; 
 From efficacious faith the virtues start. 
 Consoling Faith ! how do I cherish thee ! 
 
 And pity him who would thine aid reject! 
 Torch-bearer of the truth that makes us free ! 
 
 Efficient cause of every sweet effect! 
 In thee, the anchor of my hope I see ! 
 
 By thee, the Shepherd doth his lambs 
 protect. 
 
PURE THOUGHTS 
 
 Pure thoughts, pure thoughts, they come and go, 
 Like twinkling gleams of light; 
 
 In galaxies at times they glow, 
 Like clustered stars at night ; 
 
 But flicker, fade, and fail at last. 
 
 If passion's clouds the mind o'ercast. 
 
 They oft electric currents seem. 
 
 Whose magic strength doth force. 
 
 With power caught from flame and stream. 
 Our spirits in their course. 
 
 To generate from Virtue's seeds, 
 
 A train of blessed, kindty deeds. 
 
THE LIGHT 
 
 I saw a light, serene and bright ; 
 More bright than stars that blaze on high. 
 The Savior's face it seemed to trace 
 Upon the background of the sky. 
 
 I looked to see if it could be, 
 Indeed, my Savior's hallowed form. 
 And there stood He, in front of me. 
 To shield me from the raging storm. 
 
 "My Lord!" I cried, "with me abide! 
 Eor I would in thy presence be 
 Forevermore! thy face adore. 
 Through time and through eternity." 
 
WORDS OF COMFORT 
 
 Blest Redeemer, ever nigh! 
 From His glorious seat on high, 
 Doth He hear the sinner's ciy. 
 And comfort bring; 
 
 Words of comfort, sweet and true, 
 For the mam^ and the few. 
 Comfort e'en for me and jou., 
 From Heaven's King; 
 
 Tidings glad of joy for all. 
 For the great and for the small ; 
 Freeing us from Satan's thrall. 
 While angels sing. 
 
THE PRUDENT WAY 
 
 (^V^ritten on viewing Bentkeim s Medallion or Stonewall Jackson) 
 
 To be prepared alike for death or life ; 
 To spend the present hour in gaining strength 
 For trials, which to all must come, at length; 
 Eschewing noxious thoughts and needless strife ; 
 To be as gentle as the modest wife, 
 Yet valiant as the panting steed of war 
 That scents approaching battle from afar, 
 And, in his veins, feels triumph running rife ; 
 To love your people, seek where duty lies, 
 Be conscious of God's presence when 3^ou pray, 
 And ever keep His fear before your eyes, — 
 That's Prudence! that was "Stonewall Jackson's 
 
 Way," 
 Inherited from forebears great and wise. 
 E'en saints and kings of some far ancient day. 
 
OUR MOTHER'S VICTORY 
 
 Death came to slay our mother, but in vain; 
 Her old, beloved form, indeed, he slew; 
 But Maiy Briiikley, freed from toil and pain, 
 Has onty changed the old form for a new ; 
 And now among the Just made perfect, she 
 Lives on, and waits to welcome you and me. 
 
 The cross she bore below, now gleams above ; 
 The thorny crown she wore for other's sakes, 
 In emulation of her Savior's love. 
 Glows like the sun, when he the verdure wakes ; 
 Emblazoning a Christian woman's worth. 
 Whose good example shines for all on earth. 
 
 A wreath of lilies place we on her tomb, 
 The fairest flowers that lure the mortal eye; 
 But even these are dull beside the bloom 
 Of that bright f orai which Mother bears on high ; 
 Her modest graces here, are glories there, 
 Her face, made young again, divinely fair. 
 
 10 
 
EASTERTIDE 
 
 The Springtime, musical and sweet, 
 Returns with her delightful train, 
 In whose bright forms the colors meet, 
 As when the sunbeams kiss the rain. 
 
 With Spring His spirit e'er returns. 
 Who kindled Faith's all-saving flame ; 
 His candle on each altar burns. 
 And throats unnumbered chant His name. 
 
 Dear is the season, dearer still 
 The holy memories it brings. 
 When Easter-songs our bosoms thrill. 
 And Earth with Gospel-tidings rings. 
 
 11 
 
MY CHILDREN 
 
 The mansions of the blest, they say, 
 Where now my children dwell. 
 Are pleasant and peaceful, night and day, 
 And fairer than tongue can tell. 
 
 No moon need they in that land of delight, 
 No lantern, or torch, or star. 
 So bright is the sun by dsiy and night, 
 Where the souls of mj^ children are. 
 
 The sky is pure, and clouds there are none, 
 No darkness comes out of the west; 
 The task of the day is never done. 
 But oh, 'tis the work of the blest! 
 
 They till not the soil, nor plough the wild wave, 
 For sentinels only are they; 
 Who watch over mortals from cradle to grave, 
 And drive Satan's minions away. 
 
 12 
 
DOUBLE DOOM 
 
 How desolate and hungry is the heart 
 That beats in every stricken mother's breast! 
 What agony is life itself, apart 
 From heirs whom she has nurtured and caressed! 
 Ye who have known what 'tis to be distressed 
 By loss of that which gave you hope and pride, 
 Must, in your tribulation, have confessed 
 That, as an ebb succeeds to every tide, 
 Despair and anguish are, in hope and joy, implied 
 
 In the sweet past, I had two noble sons. 
 
 Just entered into manhood's fair estate. 
 
 The world were searched in vain for nobler ones. 
 
 But what a double doom befell, of late I 
 
 Behold them ! laid in death by cruel fate, 
 
 And me ! by fate more cruel, left, to pine ; 
 
 To writhe with riven heart, through life ; and wait 
 
 Until the sim beyond the tomb may shine. 
 
 Ere I can hug them, as of old, and call them mine ! 
 
 13 
 
ANGUISH 
 
 My darling is sleeping in death to-day, 
 
 And shadows, the Savior's countenance hide; 
 
 But at His feet, my load I lay ; 
 
 In tears, I kneel ; in anguish, pray ; 
 
 For my spirit is swept by Sorrow's tide, 
 And an end has come to all my pride. 
 
 14 
 
ON LEAVING THE LAND OF THE SKY 
 
 (The beautiful country around Asheville, North Carolina, is known as 
 the Land of the Sky, and is one of the most delightful regions of the globe.) 
 
 tell me, low-whispering breeze, 
 Why do you linger, moan, and sigh, 
 Caressing and mocking the trees 
 That tremble and shunmer on high 
 In the beautiful Land of the Sky ? 
 
 And you, ever-murmuring river, 
 tell me in confidence why 
 Your bosom is troubled forever. 
 As onward in terror you fly 
 Through the beautiful Land of the Sky? 
 
 You eagles and hawks that are screaming 
 Aloft as ye swiftly flit by. 
 Are ye all, of the dreadful day dreaming, 
 When fate to 5^our hopes shall deny 
 A home in this Land of the Sk}^? 
 
 IS 
 
MY ARDEN 
 
 In the days when my life was a dream, 
 Ere my Arden ascended on high ; 
 Together we roamed, he and I, 
 Where each mountain and stream 
 Like Aurora did gleam, 
 In the beautiful Land of the Sky. 
 
 It was Autumn, and Nature was clad 
 
 In a raiment of many a dye, 
 
 Yet the fairest thing there was the eye 
 
 Of that radiant lad 
 
 Whose countenance glad. 
 
 Illumined the Land of the Sky. 
 
 But the scourge of my race came again 
 
 In despite of my pain and my cry. 
 
 In despite of my wail and my sigh; 
 
 And I sickened, and then, 
 
 I grew desperate, when. 
 
 In the grave, my beloved did lie. 
 
 16 
 
THE LAND OF THE SKY 
 
 Fair Buncombe, dear Land of the Sky! 
 
 Thy mountains and hills, 
 
 Thy fountains and rills, 
 I left them with many a sigh. 
 
 Oh! Sweet is the ravishing glow 
 
 Of life on thy heights, 
 
 Where T^ature delights 
 Its health-freighted breeze to bestow. 
 
 Thy valleys are lakelets of grass, 
 
 Whose carpets of green. 
 
 In their billowy sheen. 
 The beauties of Eden surpass. 
 
 Like curtains of myriad dyes, 
 
 In tapestries wove 
 
 On headland and cove. 
 Thy forests magnificent rise. 
 
 17 
 
MONONGAHELA 
 
 Monongahela, fair to see, 
 
 how my heart goes out to thee ! 
 In happy childhood, oft did I 
 Upon thy mossy borders lie ; 
 
 And from thy limpid depths draw out 
 The silverside and speckled trout. 
 
 Like Hope art thou, which daily brings 
 Fresh cordials from eternal springs ; 
 Like Faith, reflecting heaven's hues; 
 Like Mercy, born of heaven's dues; 
 Like Charity, that giveth all 
 Except her ever-shining pall. 
 
 Like Time, thou flowest on and on; 
 And still shalt flow when I am gone, 
 And bless my native land forever. 
 
 1 would that I were thee, river ! 
 
 18 
 
THE VOICE OF THE RAIN 
 
 Anon from mists and torrents comes 
 
 The melody of beating rain ; 
 A lullaby its patter hmns; 
 
 Its clatter trills a wild refrain. 
 
 What stories do the raindrops tell 
 
 That break on roof and window pane? 
 Do they not Memory impel, 
 
 The tortured soul to soothe again 1 
 
 I feel — I know within m}^ heart, 
 
 That spirits throng in drops of rain, 
 
 Who gladly would to us impart 
 
 Some boon 'twere glory to attain. 
 
 Each stormy day, when showers fall, 
 Some happiness brings in its train, 
 
 For then angelic voices call. 
 
 In whispers, to me from the rain. 
 
 Sweet messengers from realms above! 
 
 Those tuneful-moaning drops of rain 
 Exhort us all to faith and love, 
 
 And exorcise despair and pain. 
 
 To me they tell of coming joys. 
 
 When treasures lost, I shall regain, 
 
 And join, above, my precious boys. 
 
 Who came and went like drops of rain. 
 
 19 
 
A FOND LOVE 
 
 He told me of his love to-day ; 
 
 He pressed close to my side ; 
 I gently heard what he would say. 
 
 Nor sought my love to hide. 
 
 For he is my own darling son, 
 And I his doting mother; 
 
 To him I'll he a faithful one, 
 Though he turn to another. 
 
 20 
 
BABY RUTH 
 
 Oh ! the dainty lass, and fair ! 
 
 Sunlight shimmers in her hair; 
 And her eyes are wells of light, and joy, and truth; 
 
 Dimples play at hide and seek 
 
 'Eound the roses of her cheek — 
 Let us call this little maiden Baby Euth. 
 
 She's a saucy, prattling tease. 
 
 Whom you'd fondly wish to please; 
 Por she lisps and cries the jealous thoughts of love. 
 
 Baby Euth, oh ! come to me, 
 
 And my precious darling be ! 
 I would prize thee as a treasure from above. 
 
 21 
 
A WIFFS TRIBUTE 
 
 The man I loved when we were young, 
 For beauty, strength and truth; 
 Though now the old and mainied among. 
 To me is still a youth. 
 
 husband mine, I fain would tell. 
 How since my heart you won, 
 The gentleman you've acted well. 
 The Christian's duty done. 
 
 With loyal heart and skilful hand. 
 And manly bearing ever, 
 You've served your home and native land. 
 And wTOUght unkindl}^ never. 
 
 Of daily toil the weight you've borne, 
 Yet culture gained beside ; 
 Nor had I ever cause to mourn 
 For being L3mch's bride. 
 
 When plagues have come our hopes to blast, 
 You've been my ready stay; 
 On you I've leaned in all the past, 
 On you I lean to-day. 
 
 Christmas Day, 1910. 
 
 22 
 
ALLEGHENY AND AURORA 
 
 Xale or An Oriad ana A Mountaineer s Daughter 
 
 Whilome, it chanced, one summer mom, 
 
 A lovely baby girl was born. 
 
 I saw her, as 'twere in a dream, 
 
 And watched her features glow and beam. 
 
 She came as comes the morning star, 
 
 Whose radiant beauty shines afar. 
 
 Till helically it dies, 
 
 Immerged in sun-illumined skies; 
 
 Yet to revive another day, 
 
 And shine with more effulgent ray. 
 
 So shone this beauty, till at last, 
 
 Her infancy was safely passed, 
 
 Transmuted into childhood fair. 
 
 With prattling tongue and golden hair. 
 
 I saw her then, 'mongst birds and flowers 
 
 Dispending joyfully the hours. 
 
 And spreading sunshine by the way, 
 
 With childish laughter, glee and play. 
 
 The humming bird and butterfly 
 
 At peek-a-boo with her did vie, 
 
 When dogwoods spread their snowy blooms, 
 
 And honeysuckles their perfumes. 
 
 And many a romp with lambs had she. 
 
 Herself so lamb-like, gay, and free. 
 
 23 
 
The barnyard hailed her as its queen ; 
 
 Nor ever yet was fair}^ seen, 
 
 With wand so potent as the pan 
 
 From which she scattered crumbs and bran. 
 
 The goslings rushed their dame to greet, 
 
 The pullets fluttered 'round her feet; 
 
 Young ducks and turkeys, resolute 
 
 Their crops to fill, ran to dispute 
 
 With chicks and goslings for a share 
 
 Of favors from their mistress fair ; 
 
 While ganders, gobblers, drakes, and cocks 
 
 Stood by to watch and cheer their flocks ; 
 
 Presuming not to touch the feast, 
 
 Lest Warlock, grim and dreadful beast, 
 
 Should make of them a morning meal, — 
 
 His motto was: ''Thou shalt not steal" — 
 
 A collie he, of Scottish breed ; 
 
 And well they knew his rigid creed. 
 
 Then came her school-days, buxom lass, 
 
 At head she stood in every class. 
 
 She learned to cipher, read, and write, 
 
 But spelling was her chief delight. 
 
 And she could spell ! Oh, she could spell 
 
 From ''ab" to "yacht," and do it well. 
 
 When "dinner-time" and "recess" came, 
 
 She took the lead in every game. 
 
 At "mumble-peg" she had no match; 
 
 At "town-ball" every fly she'd catch ; 
 
 At "bull-pen" she could beat the boys; 
 
 And, when it came to making noise, 
 
 24 
 
Called declamation, music, singing, 
 
 She set the very welkin ringing; 
 
 At calisthenics, dancing, racing. 
 
 She bore the palm for rapid pacing. 
 
 Vacation came at last. Ah, me ! 
 
 What gladsome times vacations be! 
 
 With picnics, parties, Brunswick stews, 
 
 And tournaments, and barbecues; 
 
 Camp-meetings here, revivals there; 
 
 And, best of all, the county fair ; 
 
 Where ever\^body meets his neighbor. 
 
 And all forget their care and labor! 
 
 Such festivals as these supplied 
 
 Amusement through the country-side, 
 
 In those sweet summer days of old, 
 
 When men loved virtue more than gold, 
 
 And, by such customs, taught their youth 
 
 To cherish innocence and truth — 
 
 The Christian's faith to mix with pleasure, 
 
 And aye to prize it as a treasure. 
 
 In scenes like these, the girls and boys. 
 
 With elders joined to taste the joys 
 
 Of good companionship and rest; 
 
 Nor ever lived a race more blest ; 
 
 Imbued with more fraternity: 
 
 From envy, malice, lust, more free. 
 
 Besides these rustic social meetings, 
 
 Where old and young exchanged their greetings, 
 
 A thousand things with pleasure fraught, 
 
 *' Vacation" to this damsel brought; 
 
 25 
 
As, horseback rides o'er country roads ; 
 
 And rambles through the tangled woods; 
 
 And strolls through fields where streamlets flow, 
 
 And berries large and luscious grow. 
 
 At home, there still were chores to do, 
 
 And praise came freely where 'twas due — 
 
 A kind word by her father spoken. 
 
 Her mother's smile — Oh, precious token! 
 
 Requited every duty done, 
 
 And lightened every task begun. 
 
 When father came from work at night, 
 
 She fetched the coal his pipe to light; 
 
 And if, perchance, the hour were late, 
 
 She opened wide the barnyard gate, 
 
 And led the way into the croft. 
 
 With flaming lantern held aloft. 
 
 Again, I've seen her on a steed. 
 
 Far-galloping at rapid speed 
 
 O'er meadows smooth and broken grounds, 
 
 As hunters ride behind their hounds; 
 
 O'erleaping ditches, fences, logs, 
 
 Nor heeding rivulets nor bogs. 
 
 In sooth, she seemed Diana's daughter; 
 
 Yet ne'er did she a creature slaughter; 
 
 So tender was her virgin heart. 
 
 So free from any cruel art! 
 
 She loved her native land — its woods. 
 
 And all its mountains, vales, and floods; 
 
 Its birds and beasts, its herbs and flowers; 
 
 And oft she sought its sylvan bowers ; 
 
 26 
 
And there in solitude reclined, 
 
 While daydreams soothed her pensive mind. 
 
 She found a wild, romantic nook, 
 
 Bewatered by a tiny brook. 
 
 Proceeding from a rifted rock, 
 
 Once rended by a seismic shock ; 
 
 And there her paradise she made. 
 
 And thither many a time she strayed. 
 
 Her faithful collie at her side, 
 
 And dreamed and wrought till eventide. 
 
 Of maple leaves she formed a cup. 
 
 To catch the waters bubbling up ; 
 
 Her mirror was the limpid wave, 
 
 Whose surface back her image gave ; 
 
 Of laurel boughs she wove a seat; 
 
 Of splintered reeds, a carpet neat; 
 
 A hammock, of arbutus vines; 
 
 A canopy, of ferns and pines. 
 
 A fairy castle had she there ; 
 
 And birds and squirrels flocked to share 
 
 Her princely hospitality — 
 
 For luncheon, there, was always free ! 
 
 And oft the mountain's echoes rang 
 
 With melody, as thus she sang : 
 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither! 
 Come to my bowery lodge with me. 
 Never an enemy here you'll see. 
 To harm, or to harass, you, either. 
 
 Come, come, come! 
 come to my sjdvan home! 
 
 27 
 
Come hither, we'll frolic together; 
 
 Merrity tripping; and warbling notes, 
 Filched from the strains of enchanted 
 throats. 
 That carol at morn in the heather. 
 
 Come, come, come ! 
 come to my sylvan home! 
 
 Come, children who love one another ! 
 
 Blissfully here you may spend the hours, 
 Wooing your mates in Elysian bowers. 
 Come, sweetheart, and sister, and brother. 
 Come, come, come! 
 come to my sylvan home! 
 
 Scarcely had she finished singing 
 And the echoes hushed their ringing. 
 When a woman's form came springing 
 Her astonished eyes before 
 At the threshold of her door. 
 Beautiful in fonii and feature. 
 Lovelier than earthly creature. 
 Shone this visitant; yet spiteful. 
 As if claiming something rightful. 
 Which another had denied her. 
 Hardly had our girl espied her 
 Ere this stranger stood beside her, 
 Frowning haughtih^ and speaking: 
 "Allegheny I by name," 
 
 28 
 
Said she proudly; "smd I came 
 
 To assert my lawful claim 
 
 To the spot whereon we stand. 
 
 I'm the owner of this land ; 
 
 I'm the spirit of these mountains ; 
 
 I'm the warden of their fountains, 
 
 Of their fauna and their flora; 
 
 I'm the hand-maid of Aurora, 
 
 Of the light and warmth of Springtime. 
 
 When these rocks were murky slime 
 
 At the bottom of the waters, 
 
 I, the first of Nature's daughters, 
 
 Had them as a dowiy given. 
 
 Slowly, by the aid of heaven. 
 
 Lea and moorland, river, rill, 
 
 Sprang into being at my will. 
 
 And ever since, by my command. 
 
 Fairies have been barred this land. 
 
 Yet here a temple you have raised. 
 
 Where strange divinities are praised; 
 
 And now ye sing and call your clan. 
 
 Of hostile sprites, ye lead the van ! 
 
 Intruder, speak ! Say whence came ye ! 
 
 In form, ye are most fair to see ; 
 
 Your throat is filled with melody ; 
 
 Your mien is that of innocence. 
 
 Why have ye wrought this grave offence?" 
 
 "Why!" quoth our maiden, in reply, 
 
 "A simple country girl am I; 
 
 Bred in a farmer's croft nearby. 
 
 29 
 
For no unlawful end, I came ; 
 
 IVe done no harm; I make no claim. 
 
 Play was my motive, joy my end; 
 
 I truly meant not to offend 
 
 By making here this rustic bower, 
 
 Where I might spend a happy hour." 
 
 "If that be true, I must forgive," 
 
 The stranger said; "and you may live. 
 
 But when I heard your voice in song, 
 
 So far by echoes borne along, 
 
 It seemed you were contriving wrong ; 
 
 That you were not the thing you are; 
 
 But that you meditated war. 
 
 For such a song the Fairies sing. 
 
 When their deceitful gifts they bring, 
 
 Suspicion to disarm in those 
 
 Whom secretly they treat as foes. 
 
 Suspicion is my shield; but now 
 
 It has deceived ; I know not how ; 
 
 Unless it be that I was blinded, 
 
 As are men when evil-minded. 
 
 For anger, envy, malice, hate 
 
 Aye cause man's reason to abate; 
 
 And these same passions blur the eye 
 
 Of intellect, however high. 
 
 Spirits mighty and far-seeing. 
 
 Become as but a human being 
 
 Hemmed by clouds, when Anger reigns ; 
 
 For Reason such a state disdains. 
 
 But now, my passion gone at last, 
 
 30 
 
I see the f utare and the past ; 
 
 And should you choose, I will forecast 
 
 For you the manner of your life, 
 
 Whether as maiden or as wife." 
 
 The maiden blushed, and naively said : 
 
 'Td rather tell, if I'm to wed, 
 
 Than have another tell, my choice ; 
 
 For every maid should have a voice, 
 
 At least in settling on a master, 
 
 Lest marriage prove a sad disaster. 
 
 But as to other things, be free. 
 
 Tell both the past and what's to be. 
 
 And something of yourself I'd know, 
 
 If you would tell it, ere you go." 
 
 Then spoke Allegheny slowly : 
 
 "Child, like thine, my lot was lowly, 
 
 My parents' dwelling was a cave ; 
 
 There was my home, and there my grave. 
 
 But, like thee, I was woman born ; 
 
 And though my prospects seemed forlorn, 
 
 I was b}^ birth a spirit free, 
 
 And heir unto eternity. 
 
 I was, in fact, like unto thee. 
 
 As line and point was I, in one. 
 
 And essence endless, once begun. 
 
 The grave once passed, and duty done. 
 
 We spirits know infinities ; 
 
 Are, in a sense, divinities. 
 
 We know the that, the what, the why, 
 
 The if and if not, perfectly. 
 
 31 
 
The near and distant, false and true, 
 Are ever present in our view. 
 What has been, was not, was to be, 
 Or would or might have been, we see, 
 Nor guess, as men guess history. 
 And thus we reach, in being, far 
 Beyond our birth ; for spirits are 
 Before they were; and had been, too, 
 Before that, if they only knew. 
 Whatever knows, is, and is true. 
 Though it were born this very hour : 
 For knowing is eternal power ; 
 And power is to live, not die ; 
 Believe it, child, and ask not why. 
 Who knows the past and present, knows 
 What will be ; for the current flows 
 Forever in one channel straight. 
 Whose plane and horizon are one. 
 And lighted, as if by a sun : 
 The lamp within us pouring rays 
 On every form, and thought, and place. 
 Now, that we are, we know on earth. 
 Such knowledge goes with every birth. 
 But what we are ; and, if so, tvhy, 
 Are things, to learn which we must die. 
 By death I mean ascending high 
 Above the crude mortality, 
 Which stands to us as swaddling cloth, 
 Or as the pupa to the moth. 
 'Twere better named negation, 
 Of the kind we call privation; 
 
 32 
 
Since it follows after being, 
 Much as blindness follows seeing. 
 Imperfect is it, at its best; 
 Part it takes, but leaves the rest. 
 Now, from us, it takes the fetter; 
 Takes the clogs, and nothing better; 
 Leaving us the spirit essence. 
 Freed from burdens and putrescence ; 
 Leaving us the true and prior; 
 Helping us to mount up higher; 
 Whither we survey all being ; 
 Present, past, and future, seeing. 
 Death is merely matter, striving 
 To promote the young and thriving; 
 To relieve the old and weaiy ; 
 Free the sick from dungeons dreary; 
 Speed the poor to scenes more cheery; 
 Vary Nature's forms of beauty; 
 Guide us to the higher duty. 
 Never to itself it takes 
 Aught but wrecks the mortal makes 
 Of palls which Nature primely gave, 
 The feeble, struggling life to save : 
 Such, onh^, bears it to the grave. 
 What hath knowledge doth survive ; 
 And, aye, the soul is still alive ; 
 Although the bod}^ doth depart 
 Through lack of some essential art. 
 True knowledge is a system, then, 
 Of boundless things, in number, ten — 
 
 33 
 
Action, Quantity, Condition; 
 Passion, Quality, Position; 
 Habit, Time, Kelation, Place; 
 Possessed through Heaven's abounding 
 
 grace. 
 These elements are caught and mixed 
 In symmetries; by rhythm fixed. 
 According to some type, or plan, 
 Or diapason, as in man; 
 Arranged by number, order, place, 
 Eelationship, and form, and race; 
 A universal of the ten ; 
 Of many, one, in 'where' and Vhen' ; 
 A multitude in 'now' and 'then' — 
 Whatever was; whatever is; 
 Whatever will be — all in 'this'; 
 And 'this' in all ; or great or small ; 
 Thrilling Nature's every thrall ; 
 Clothing each in Nature's pall. 
 Forwhy this tenfold germ of thought, 
 As genius latent, is in aught 
 And everything with Being fraught. 
 Without it. Chaos is, and Naught. 
 And just as in the day, the hour 
 Is lurking, lurketh in this power. 
 As the sentry in the tower, 
 The mightiest of might}^ things, 
 'To Be.' And w^hcn the hour rings, 
 Thence, full-panoplied, it springs, 
 A necessary 'one,' which booms; 
 And booming, rushes, swells, and looms ; 
 
 34 
 
Nor less than any star that's driven 
 Forever through the depths of heaven. 
 By virtue of this union, straight 
 From Chaos to its formal state, 
 Each Being plunges, at the rate 
 By Nature forecast for its date. 
 But ere that ; as, by Nature's laws 
 Effects subsist within their cause ; 
 With cause, coeval, co-eternal, 
 We, too, are subject, yet supernal. 
 
 "Such, then, are spirits, one and all. 
 They know what is; what shall befall; 
 E'en so, in an}^ given case, 
 As well event, as time and place. 
 They see it all. And now, I'll trace, 
 In outline, what I know of you; 
 That you may know my words are true. 
 
 "I saw you in the hour of birth, 
 A fairer babe ne'er graced the earth. 
 'Twas on a summer's morning mild; 
 And sweet Aurora blessed the child. 
 Her rays grew audible as bright. 
 And scoffed at the retreating night. 
 She whispered: "Tis a morning star. 
 Though woman-borne, 'twill shine afar; 
 For my eff'ulgence shall illume 
 Its presence, till it shall assume 
 Its proper ray and true estate 
 By passing through the other gate. 
 
 35 
 
And it shall bear my name through life, 
 And dwell apart from hate and strife. 
 My spirit-servants shall attend it ; 
 The good and noble shall befriend it. 
 The mystic world shall it perceive ; 
 And though, as woman, she shall grieve, 
 Shall yet be glad through hearing, 
 The messages endearing, 
 In accents sweet and cheering, 
 Of children hers, that dwell above, 
 Vocalizing faith and love.* 
 
 "Thence hitherto, I have obeyed 
 My mistress' will, and effort made 
 To keep you ever in my sight; 
 Nor ever failed till yesternight, 
 While putting fsdry hordes to flight. 
 
 "I saw you as a chubby girl ; 
 Feature plump, and sunny curl; 
 Eyes of opal, teeth of pearl ; 
 Cheeks of velvet, beaming smiles, 
 Spirit full of harmless wiles. 
 
 "I watched you grow 'mongst birds and 
 
 flowers. 
 Seeming native to their bowers — 
 A clover-leaf, here, plucking up. 
 And, there, some modest buttercup ; 
 Now, sprawling in the newmown hay. 
 And agile, then, as lamb at play ; 
 
 36 
 
Again, sedate, as if to drink 
 The joyful notes of bob-o-link, 
 Or mocking bird's sweet consonance 
 Of all the tones of wild romance ; 
 Or yielding audience to the dove, 
 To catch the harmonies of love; 
 Or learning from the whippoorwill, 
 That love, at best, is painful still, 
 ( Since it must share the Future's 
 
 sorrow, 
 Load the past upon to-morrow. 
 That it may be sure to borrow 
 Of itself some precious trouble, 
 When its anguish it would double 
 And its ecstasy prolong. 
 As the thesis of its song) . 
 'Twas hence you listened long 
 To the saddest bird that sings ; 
 Pining for its spirit and its wings. 
 
 ^*And, in your home, I've seen you, too, 
 
 Ever gentle, blithe, and true ; 
 
 Ever mindful what to do. 
 
 If the father or the mother, 
 
 Or the prattling baby brother. 
 
 Or the sister dear, had need, 
 
 'Twas yours at once each wish to heed ; 
 
 Nor ever, was such wish denied. 
 
 Of all the house, you were the pride. 
 
 "Whene'er the father came at night, 
 
 You fetched the coal his pipe to light. 
 
 37 
 
Or, if the horses he was driving, 
 You watched the time for his arriving; 
 And when it came, you nimhly ran. 
 To greet the sire, admit the span. 
 And all the cart's contents to scan. 
 
 *'When God was to be praised by all 
 Within the cottage circle small, 
 At morning and at eventide, 
 That He might in their hearts abide. 
 You fetched the Book, and meekly 
 
 bowed. 
 While he, the father, read aloud 
 The Gospel and the law divine ; 
 And humbty knelt before the shrine 
 Of Christ, alike to thank and pray. 
 And thus did 3^ou, from day to day. 
 
 "I've seen you, too, the fowls attending, 
 All the little chicks befriending; 
 The unfortunate defending; 
 Feeding these, and nursing those. 
 Tenderly as Zephyr blows; 
 Mercy's noblest work essaying, 
 Sweetest quality displaying. 
 Fairest imager}^ portraying. 
 "As a huntress, I have seen you. 
 Speeding these dense jungles through; 
 Boldly galloping o'er grounds 
 Dreaded even by the hounds ; 
 Courage shining in your face. 
 And, in every movement, grace. 
 
 38 
 
"I have seen you in the schools, 
 Ever careful of the rules ; 
 Eager heeding, eager scanning 
 Every task; and always planning 
 So to act the pupil's part. 
 As best to win the master's heart. 
 
 '"Mongst your schoolmates, too, I've seen 
 
 you. 
 Marked the love there was between you ; 
 And the friendly modes of speaking, 
 Though, at play, each one were seeking 
 The antagonist to cheat 
 Of the master}^ so sweet. 
 
 "I have seen you in this bower, 
 
 As I see you at this hour. 
 
 Yet I knew you not, to-day. 
 
 For the reason that I say. 
 
 When I heard your weird song. 
 
 By ringing echoes borne along, 
 
 Deemed I not an artless child. 
 
 Ignorant of passions wild, 
 
 But rather fairy, nothing less. 
 
 By tinkling magic could express 
 
 In terms of music and of thought, 
 
 Like those which in that song were wrought, 
 
 The things wherewith each soul is fraught 
 
 That dreams of wiles and woe; yet smiles. 
 
 And friend, and foe, and self beguiles. 
 
 39 
 
"This brings us to the Future's brink; 
 What lies beyond is what you think. 
 To me 'tis sight; to you 'tis dream, 
 There you exist not yet, but seem. 
 No longer you I see, but 'her' ; 
 ^0 thing, but 'as if it were.' 
 The abstract essence, not concrete, 
 Until To-morrow it shall greet. 
 
 "I see 'her' changed from childhood's state, 
 
 To that of maidenhood sedate; 
 
 With every winning grace supplied; 
 
 Her father's joy, her mother's pride ; 
 
 By all her kinf oik idolized ; 
 
 Nor e'en by ruffians despised. 
 
 Her early thoughts she harbors still; 
 
 Again the sombre whippoorwill. 
 
 Bewailing loneliness with song. 
 
 Affects her soul with feeling strong 
 
 For something she has never known — 
 
 Companionship of 'him' alone, 
 
 Whose life with hers shall blend in love. 
 
 And when she hears the plaintive dove, 
 
 The truant tears suffuse her eye; 
 
 Her bosom swells, she knows not why; 
 
 A sympathetic sense of woe 
 
 Distracts her spirit's wonted flow; 
 
 And melancholy fills the place 
 
 Of joy, in that angelic face. 
 
 She feels the racking, vague unrest. 
 
 Which tortures every human breast; 
 
 40 
 
And makes of youth, like wax afire, 
 A flaming, self -consuming pyre. 
 Until extinguished by the fate 
 That finds for each a proper mate! 
 
 "Nature doth implant this anguish — 
 In ecstas}^ of pain to languish — 
 In every woman's heart, yet, soon, 
 The recompense and precious boon 
 Of wifehood gives : and love, requited, 
 Leaves its victim now delighted. 
 The flame of passion gently burns ; 
 The rose-tint to her cheek returns; 
 Her f oim more lovely grows, apace ; 
 Her spirit, gaining force and grace. 
 Looms in her opalescent face. 
 So 'tis with that which now I see. 
 The thing which you are soon to be. 
 "A lover comes and is adored; 
 Her waning spirit is restored; 
 She freely leaves her mother's side, 
 Her home and all, to be his bride. 
 And share with him, what shall betide, 
 Or pain or jo}^, or shame or pride. 
 In narrow hut or mansion wide. 
 They wed. And on their bridal day. 
 The groom his treasure bears away. 
 He, though bred behind the plough, 
 Is denizen of city now, 
 Where, in his shop, b}^ prudent care, 
 He gathers gear and credit fair, 
 
 41 
 
To build his home, and lodge his mate ; 
 Mayhap, to found a broad estate. 
 And walk among the good and great. 
 
 "Mistress of her household now; 
 Matron's crown upon her brow, 
 In her arms an infant son ; 
 Naught of duty left undone ; 
 Noblest of all trophies won, 
 Type of all that's fair to view; 
 Good, and beautiful, and true; 
 Careful she to plan and do ; 
 Rendering to each his due, — 
 Thus I see her moving on. 
 Whither self-light soon shall dawn, 
 And her tender, yearning spirit 
 Immortalitv^ inherit. 
 But the babe I see ! alas ! 
 It shall be the first to pass ! 
 
 "0 Motherhood! symbolic state, 
 
 Wherein little things and great. 
 
 Wherein the part, wherein the whole. 
 
 Obsess each other in one soul — 
 
 One soul, with opposites replete; 
 
 One soul, with passion, bitter sweet; 
 
 One symbol, bearing death with life, 
 
 And fear with hope, and peace with strife; 
 
 Bliss with agony and dread; 
 
 Life, burdened with its offspring dead ! 
 
 42 
 
Yet as the radiant bow of Hope, 
 I see thee in this horoscope. 
 What glories doth she not evoke, 
 Who wears thy consecrated yoke ? 
 
 ''0 Woman! whosoe'er thou art. 
 
 Blest matrimony be thy part, 
 
 The ruling passion of thy heart, 
 
 In one, thy compass, rudder, chart! 
 
 The fable sad of Niobe 
 
 Declares not Woman's history; 
 
 Not all her blooming children die, 
 
 Nor ever doth she petrify. 
 
 Whose pride is mixed with charity. 
 
 "Nor heed the legend feigned of Eve, 
 
 A legend conjured to deceive. 
 
 By sordid scribes who profit made 
 
 Of superstitions that degrade. 
 
 'Twas said by those ignoble men. 
 
 And written with envenomed pen, — 
 
 'That Woman was the source of vice ; 
 
 That she polluted Paradise ; 
 
 Robbed man of virtue and repose ; 
 
 Brought sin, and death, and all our woes; 
 
 Entailed upon us wrath eternal ; 
 
 And made the soul of man infernal.' 
 
 But for the evils thej^ have wrought, 
 
 Such tales would scarce deserve a thought. 
 
 Sister, on my word, deny 
 
 That man above thee standeth high; 
 
 43 
 
That wedlock came as Heaven's curse, 
 And motherhood as something worse. 
 
 *'If man thy master seem to be, 
 Still, but as potter's clay is he. 
 Helpless, plastic, pliant creature. 
 Thou, his mother, nurse, and teacher, 
 Givest him each manly feature, 
 Eormest him to suit thy pleasure, 
 Markest him to be thy treasure ; 
 And, in blessing him, dost bless 
 Thyself and others none the less; 
 Making him thy helpmeet strong. 
 The right to speed: to thwart the wrong; 
 As scout and forager, to dwell 
 Beside thee in thy citadel ; 
 And, as thy champion, to stand 
 'Gainst plunderers, on every hand. 
 
 "The Shirt of Nessus, though thou wear; 
 The Cross of Jesus, though thou bear; 
 Though thou the throes of Job endure 
 Yet, while thy heart is whole and pure. 
 Thine agonies in gloiy end. 
 And with thy children's transports blend 
 In Nature's diapason sweet; 
 The living and the dead to greet. 
 Whilst to Nature thou art loyal. 
 Still by Nature art thou royal. 
 And mistress of this universe, 
 Despite each legendary curse ! 
 
 44 
 
Again I say, whoe'er thou art, 
 Blest matrimony be thy part ! 
 The ghosts of Eve and Niobe, 
 Avaunt, alike from man and thee! 
 Ma}^ Love, connubial and true. 
 As masts are woolded, woold ye two, 
 For mutual support, when lo ! 
 The currents adverse surging flow, 
 And gales relentless raging blow/' 
 
 Here Allegheny paused awhile. 
 Her face illumined with a smile; 
 But soon resumed: ''I see another 
 In the arms of this young mother. 
 Two there are, each like its brother, 
 Each she loves more than the other. 
 I see her romping with her boys, 
 Abounding in maternal joys. 
 Nor heeding any thing besides. 
 Which in the wide, wide world betides. 
 But now a change comes o'er her dream. 
 No longer doth joy's luster beam 
 In those mild, sympathetic eyes ; 
 But there, he sorrow's depths espies, 
 Who watches them. An infant lies, 
 In throes of death, no more to rise. 
 Without, 'tis wintry as within; 
 The frost shines where the flowers have 
 
 been; 
 Among the trees no bird now sings ; 
 But sad Eolian moaning rings. 
 
 45 
 
The morning star fades in the sky ; 
 And, now ! I see a spirit fly ! 
 And kindred spirits, far and nigh, 
 Salute it, when it takes its place; 
 As men greet one who wins a race. 
 She, the mother, stunned by grief, 
 Appeals to Heaven for relief; 
 Kneels at the vacant body's side, 
 Of him whom death hath glorified; 
 And there repeats the praj^ers that she 
 First learned at her own mother's knee 
 Among these hills in yonder hut. 
 Till Sorrow's floodgates now are shut ; 
 And faith and fortitude supply 
 The strength which anguish would deny. 
 No priest attends ; but Clod is there. 
 To claim His new-born child and heir, 
 And plume its spirit-wings with care — 
 There, too, to help its mother bear 
 Her grief, and His own gladness share. 
 Her husband standeth by her side. 
 As stood he when she was a bride. 
 More dear he seemeth in distress. 
 More precious now is his caress. 
 His strong will doth its strength impart; 
 His sweet condolence soothes her heart. 
 The joy that cometh with his love ; 
 The peace that cometh from above; 
 Drive from eyes the tears of woe. 
 Again she feels life's quickening glow. 
 
 46 
 
Her wonted habits doth retrieve; 
 Confounding Niobe and Eve, 
 As mockeries coined to deceive. 
 Unlike the creeds false prophets teach 
 (Who sordid ends design to reach) , 
 The pure evangel that I preach 
 To Woman renders what is due, 
 And robes the child in heaven's hue ; 
 Nor takes from man his birthright true. 
 And neither bondage, caste, nor hell, 
 Know^ they, who follow Nature w^ell. 
 For love, in Nature hath its root ; 
 No dogma doth its core pollute; 
 No curse corrupt its tender shoot." 
 
 Amazed at hearing what was said. 
 And awed by a mysterious dread. 
 The maiden stared, and fain had fled; 
 Yet powerless to move she stood 
 Before the spirit of the wood; 
 Which thus its w^eighty theme pursued : 
 "Thou doubtest still that I behold 
 The future whereof I have told. 
 I'll show thee in yon glassy tome. 
 An epopee of things to come, 
 Concerning thee in thine own home. 
 E'en in that purling fountain there, 
 Shalt thou my own prevision share, 
 And faithfully the sign declare. 
 What seest thou there, my darling? sa}^; 
 Those human forms, whose forms are they? 
 
 47 
 
Though three of them thou ne'er hast seen, 
 
 Thou'lt recognize them all, I ween. 
 
 No thaumatrope beguiles thy sight; 
 
 No optical illusion bright, 
 
 No fancy born of magic light. 
 
 What is there, is what shall he; 
 
 And there thou dost the future see. 
 
 I pity thee for thy dismay. 
 
 But what seest thou? Thyself shalt say.*' 
 
 As viewing, through a window-pane. 
 
 Some vast expanse of hill and plain. 
 
 Or some mirage, where cot and fane. 
 
 Commingle in one mighty scene ; 
 
 So in the fountain's water}^ sheen, 
 
 A panorama, fair, serene. 
 
 In regular perspective lies 
 
 Before her wonder-stricken eyes. 
 
 Then presto change, she sees a hall. 
 
 Wherein three sturdy youths, and tall. 
 
 Are ranged before a matron proud. 
 
 She swoons, but ere long cries aloud: 
 
 "Those manly forms are sons of mine ; 
 
 Myself am she who doth recline. 
 
 These things, as if they were, appear ; 
 
 As beings present, now and here. 
 
 That hall I know as 'twere my home ; 
 
 And through those fields I seem to roam, 
 
 Familiar with each path and gate. 
 
 As if upon my own estate." 
 
 "Now, comes the husband, strong and true, 
 
 The massive, stately portal through. 
 
 48 
 
An angel, now, in infant's form, 
 Flies in, and whispers, 'lo ! a storm !' 
 The matron hears the voice, and sighs ; 
 With troubled glance she scans the skies ; 
 As pilots when the petrel flies ; 
 Until a cloudlet black she spies. 
 The menfolk chide her for her fears. 
 But fail to stifle sighs or tears. 
 The spirit-voice rings in her ears. 
 'A storm ! A storm !' it murmurs still ; 
 The sound her very heart doth chill." 
 
 Then whispering, as in distress, 
 
 Did she the following confess : 
 
 ''That angel fonn, I know it well; 
 
 Yet how I know% I cannot tell ; 
 
 Unless it be the infant son. 
 
 Of whom you spoke ere I begim — 
 
 A thing not being, yet to be ; 
 
 A part of my own mysteiy. 
 
 But why my strange and awful dread] 
 
 What ne'er was born can ne'er be dead." 
 
 Again, said Allegheny: "Look! 
 Another leaf turns in our book." 
 The girl now as an aspen shook. 
 "Ah me !" she cried : "The mother 
 
 weeps. 
 And o'er a dead son, vigil keeps. 
 I see an angel with bright hair 
 And radiant features standing there. 
 
 49 
 
It lisps : ^Be comforted ! I've come 
 To welcome Brother's spirit home. 
 I know the way ; and many a day, 
 We two shall hither come to play, 
 Nor ever far from thee we'll stray. 
 JSTot gifts to thee, but loans were we. 
 God called us back to make us free. 
 Not for us, then, should you grieve, 
 Who, at God's mandate, took our leave; 
 For we are His, though truty yours ; 
 And His omnipotence secures. 
 For us the life which a5^e endures, 
 And of which you shall soon partake ; 
 With us again your home to make. 
 You seem to-day; you'll be to-morrow; 
 And being, find surcease of sorrow. 
 The present is a veil between 
 Your eyes and all this glorious scene. 
 The To-morrow moveth on, 
 As the day pursues the dawn ; 
 Ever towards the present straining, 
 But its object never gaining; 
 Yet the soul may cross the line 
 Which its limits doth define. 
 Less of trouble here we borrow. 
 Less of fear, and less of sorrow. 
 Erelong we shall dwell with you, 
 Who, within this fountain, view. 
 Things impossible, but true.' " 
 
 50 
 
And, as it paused, the damsel spied 
 Her own face mirrored in the tide ; 
 And felt that she had traly pried 
 The veil that doth the future hide. 
 As in the depths the heights are shown ; 
 As in the hidden lurks the known ; 
 As plants from buried seeds are grown; 
 So faith, from mystery alone, 
 Through miracles and signs doth spring, 
 And to the erewhiles doubter bring 
 Its self-sufficient offering. 
 No longer frightened, now she peers 
 Again into the fount, and hears 
 New lamentations, sees new tears. 
 Another death-scene greets her eyes; 
 A corpse within its coffin lies ; 
 Once more the stricken mother cries 
 To Him who comforteth, for aid; 
 Her youngest son the debt has paid; 
 Which God upon us all has laid. 
 But now the dreaded storm is past ; 
 Its blighting blast is lulled at last ; 
 And buried are the wTecks it cast. 
 "Now I perceive," the damsel said, 
 "So prescient is a mother's dread, 
 That she foresees her children dead. 
 Once more I see that splendid hall, 
 Its mistress standing near its wall ; 
 Deciphering some writing fair, 
 As 'twere a message written there 
 By spirit-hands, which doth declare 
 
 51 
 
Some joyful tidings from the land 
 Where dwells the little loving band 
 Of youthful spirits, once her boys — 
 A message telling of their jo3^s, 
 How each one now his strength employs, 
 There to provide, ere she shall come, 
 For her a better, happier home. 
 I hear the matron as she reads: 
 *Dear Mother; cast aside thy weeds. 
 Think only now of precious deeds. 
 That mitigate the w^oes and needs 
 Of mortals ; and co-worker be 
 With us, thy children, blest and free. 
 Let not the lame, or blind, or poor, 
 Go empty-handed from thy door. 
 When wayward sons or daughters roam. 
 Go seek them out and send them home. 
 When heartless parents meanly fail 
 In duty to their children frail, 
 Enlighten them until the}^ feel 
 How precious 'tis, and sweet, to deal 
 In mercy with their helpless wards, 
 Of wiiom they are, by nature, guards. 
 In fine, we are to work with thee 
 Within the realm of charit}^ 
 Where'er thou goest, there w^e go; 
 Whate'er thou doest, that we do.' " 
 "So reads she, and her soft eyes beam. 
 I see it all, there in the stream ! 
 To dream is life ; to live, a dream, 
 Whose promises Time must redeem. 
 
 52 
 
Impossibility I view, 
 By possibility made tnie. 
 Believe I must; believe I do. 
 
 >) 
 
 At length the thaumaturgic wave 
 Another exhibition gave. 
 "There," said the damsel, "standeth she, 
 The being I was born to be. 
 Accompanied b}^ spirits three; 
 Devising works of charity. 
 The stalwart husband now attends ; 
 And freely he his counsel lends. 
 And ample purse, to aid their ends. 
 Abundant wealth doth he possess ; 
 For bounteously doth fortune bless 
 His every venture with success; 
 Yet doth he not the poor oppress, 
 Nor fail to hearken to distress. 
 American in mode and spirit. 
 He wins by genius and by merit 
 What common potentates inherit, 
 Or gain by plunder or deceit. 
 Or kneeling at some demon's feet. 
 His princely bearing, noble life. 
 Wherein are grace and virtue rife. 
 Encourage and delight the wife; 
 Replanting joys that stirred the bride; 
 Replacing hopes once cast aside; 
 Upbuilding faith that doth abide, 
 And deepening the channel wide. 
 Where flows Devotion's pearly tide. 
 
 S3 
 
Oh, chastened, sweet connubial bliss! 
 What happiness supreme is this! 
 
 "On their surviving son, these two, 
 Exert their powers, to keep him true ; 
 And he, responsive, doth pursue, 
 With reverence and obedience due. 
 The things which honor warns to do. 
 A happier home than theirs, I ween, 
 No mortal eye hath ever seen. 
 
 "Again the matron stands alone 
 Beside the wall, whereon is shown 
 A spirit-message, which she reads : 
 'Plear one who wears a spirit's pall. 
 My spouse and children, near thy hall 
 Are domiciled. The children weep, 
 Because their father fails to keep 
 His promise nevermore to wed, 
 When I, their mother, should be dead. 
 But now unworthily woos. 
 One who would wantonly abuse 
 My pretty innocents, were she 
 Usurper in m}^ place to be.' 
 
 "And scarcely has she finished reading, 
 Ere pitifully there come pleading, 
 Three frightened, trembling girls, pursued 
 Apace by their step-mother rude. 
 The noble matron brings them all 
 Within the precincts of her hall ; 
 
 54 
 
Then sends the vixen to a bed; 
 And sees the children soothed and fed 
 By careful servants. But anon, 
 The vixen's husband follows on; 
 Is shown his sleeping, drunken wife. 
 Who e'en in dreams is breathing strife, 
 And then his children, still in dread, 
 Murmuring of their mother dead. 
 *Madam,' says the peasant, weeping, 
 *My girls I'll leave within your keeping, 
 Until an orphanage we find. 
 Whose managers are good and kind ; 
 And there we'll place them till they learn 
 Their own bread honestly to earn.' 
 " 'Then leave them here,' replies the dame, 
 'I heard of them before they came; 
 And should have come to you, had they 
 Not sooner come with me to stay. 
 Their mother was with me to-day ; 
 No doubt, 'twas she who led the way, 
 When they were forced from home to stray.' 
 
 "Again upon the wall is written 
 
 A message from some heart that's smitten. 
 
 *A brother still on earth have I,' 
 
 Writes now the spirit-hand; 'I try 
 
 To reach his heart, but I cannot. 
 
 He's grown to be a callous sot, 
 
 An errant, wanton, worthless boy. 
 
 Who all his talents doth employ 
 
 In pastimes, which the mind destroy, 
 
 55 
 
And grief to all his loved ones bring. 
 His spirit sister still doth cling 
 To him, through shame and suffering. 
 Tell him that she loves him yet, 
 And begs him never to forget, 
 That he to others owes a debt.* 
 
 " *0h !' cries the dame, *This land is rife 
 With wrecks who quaff the dregs of life 
 From alcohol's bewitching urn. 
 Wherein hell's magic embers burn. 
 But I'll retrieve them where I can; 
 Than this, no nobler task hath man. 
 E'en the vixen yonder raving, 
 Woman, like a fiend behaving. 
 Well is worth the cost of saving!' 
 
 "A youth now enters, fair and tall ; 
 Who strides familiar through the hall. 
 *I come,' says he, 'as to my home. 
 I know not why I've hither come ; 
 But something led me to believe 
 That I might here some good achieve. 
 Elsewhere I've failed ; and I return 
 To this, my native hall, to learn, 
 Mayhap, the cause of m}^ decline. 
 I hope you like the place. 'Tis fine ! 
 It seems to me the sun doth shine 
 Most brightly here ; the zephyrs blow 
 Most sweetly; and all nature glow 
 
 56 
 
With lustre nowhere seen but here. 
 
 My sister and my parents dear, 
 
 Lie buried in this blessed ground. 
 
 Oh! how their spirits must have frowned, 
 
 When I for money signed away 
 
 This noble heritage, to pay 
 
 The costs of drunkenness and play. 
 
 That made of me the sharper's prey. 
 
 And spoiled our precious name for aye !' " 
 
 "Again, a hand writes on the wall: 
 
 'How quickly hath he heard my call! 
 
 Oh, keep him, lest again he fall/ 
 
 There/ saith the dame : 'That message read. 
 
 See what thy sister hath decreed. 
 
 Her sweet injunction then obey. 
 
 And here, till thou art stronger, stay.* 
 
 "And now three spirit-voices ring. 
 For sister, mother, father sing : 
 
 SiSTEB. 
 
 " 'Brother mine, thy sister greet ! 
 See her kneeling at thy feet; 
 Hear the pledge she doth entreat- 
 Thine estate retrieve.' 
 
 57 
 
Mother. 
 
 " *Son, th}^ mother welcomes thee, 
 Proud at last to find thee free. 
 Bravely fight thine enemy; 
 And my fears relieve.' 
 
 Father. 
 
 " *Son, thy sire applauds the deed 
 Which to-day thy soul hath freed. 
 Let our blessing be thy meed ; 
 More victories achieve !' 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 ** *Now is the sky more bright ! 
 
 Now is the land more fair. 
 
 May this redemptive light 
 
 Spread blessings everywhere; 
 Illuminating every shore, 
 And every heart, forevermore; 
 
 And casting out despair.' 
 
 " 'How kindly doth it lead! 
 
 How fervently it glows! 
 
 For every pious deed 
 
 A halo it bestows ; 
 E'en on the prodigal, the tramp, 
 Who walketh by the Spirit's lamp, 
 
 A halo it bestows.' 
 
 "And now in prayer they meekly kneel ; 
 And thus to God make their appeal : 
 
 58 
 
Invocation. 
 
 ^Divine Creator, b}^ Thine own decree, 
 
 Each man is free to judge and to inquire ; 
 
 Oh, grant him wisdom, then, Omniscient Sire, 
 That he may judge ariglit, and ask of Thee — 
 Though he judge ill, and oft a tmant be, 
 
 Or slavish acolyte of mean desire, 
 
 A leper rife with lust's consuming fire ; 
 Yet, may he rise ! may he his dut}^ see, 
 And don the radiant robe of Liberty ; 
 
 Nor, ever straggle more in sin's foul mire, 
 Nor blight again his native royalty! 
 
 Be Thou his guide ; his mind and breast inspire 
 With saving prudence, faith and loj^alty, 
 
 That he mav scale the heights yet higher, 
 higher? " 
 
 A Suicide's Plea. 
 
 "More writing on the wall I see, 
 Now, 'tis a suicide's sad plea. 
 A youth, piqued by his father's chiding, 
 Sought in the grave a place of hiding; 
 Now, written in his proper hand, 
 Appears before me this command : 
 
 " '0, tell my parents I've been here; 
 That I am happy in my sphere, 
 And soon will greet them, as of yore, 
 With smile and kisses on the shore 
 
 59 
 
Where spirits blest, each other meet, 
 
 And loving souls their loved ones greet. 
 
 E'en mortals who, despairing, wrench 
 
 The body from its soul, and quench 
 
 The vital flame, dwell here in peace, 
 
 Despite the impious decrees 
 
 Of all man-made theologies. 
 
 Of blessed charity the cause 
 
 We serve ; pursuing Nature's laws. 
 
 Love's sweet commissions we fulfill, 
 
 As instruments of Heaven's will. 
 
 Immortal, we are human still.' 
 
 " *With thine own sons, sweet lady, I 
 
 Commission bear to mollif}'' 
 
 The agony that sears and rives 
 
 The heart of man ; to break the gyves 
 
 That shackle him; to set him free; 
 
 To heal him of each malady, 
 
 Teach him a manlier man to be.' 
 
 The Queen's Appeal. 
 
 "Once more a message there I read ; 
 *0 Dame,' it says, 'great is my need 
 Of one who might my cause well plead 
 Before mankind, and who might speed 
 A noble enterprise of one 
 Who ere whiles wore a royal crown, 
 But left her work in part undone.' 
 
 "The matron reads it, and replies : 
 *I scarcely can believe mine eyes! 
 
 60 
 
How could I help a mighty Queen? 
 Oh, would that I her form had seen'/ 
 
 "A queenly figure now appears, 
 Whose eyes are half suffused with tears ; 
 Begs that a man of her own land 
 May borrow of God's open hand, 
 And finish work that she has planned. 
 Succeed she could not, but he can, 
 If aided by the Borrowed Man, 
 Whom God hath sent to us in trust. 
 To lead us lest we be unjust. 
 She begs her son not to depart, 
 From objects dear unto her heart. 
 To render to the churls their land. 
 Wherever he may haA^e command, 
 On continent or island fair; 
 Eedeeming them from dread despair. 
 Directly to the Son of Man 
 She'd have him take his forebear's plan. 
 And ask approval there, and aid ; 
 And though he should not be afraid, 
 Yet all things secret he should keep 
 Within his bosom hidden deep.' 
 
 '' Tour Majesty, I'll tell him all,' 
 Eeplies the mistress of the hall. 
 'Then God be praised,' rejoins the Queen, 
 'Such loyalty is seldom seen — 
 Loyalty to race, to woman, God. 
 Though England's soil ye ne'er have trod, 
 
 61 
 
Though Ireland ye have never known, 
 Eich is the crop 3^e will have sown 
 In both fair isles, if he be true. 
 To whom these words, I send by you. 
 And in the future ye shall stand 
 Beloved in my native land/ " 
 
 Allegheny Vanishes. 
 
 The scene now^ closed. The dryad smiled. 
 And said: "Believe you yet, m}^ child? 
 What you have seen is what shall be 
 In coming time, sketched hastily. 
 Good spirits only have you seen 
 Depicted in the water's sheen; 
 But evil ones there are, as well. 
 Who make this earth for man a hell. 
 Beware of such. And now, good-by! 
 For other work elsewhere have I." 
 Then vanished she. The maiden stood 
 Once more alone within the wood. 
 What strange emotions thrilled her breast! 
 IS'aught now could ever damp the zest 
 Of life in her. She yearned to test 
 Its worst results; to win its best. 
 She willingly would bear its pains. 
 That she might reap its glorious gains. 
 E'en as the phantom matron, she. 
 In all respects, would gladly be. 
 The crown of thorns ; the cup of gall 
 With wormwood mixed ; the cross with all 
 
 62 
 
Its dread concomitants, she'd bear, 
 
 Nor ever yield to fell despair. 
 
 Foreseeing all the mighty cost 
 
 Of trimnph — children borne and lost; 
 
 And constant irritating cares, 
 
 Besetting life with myriad snares; 
 
 Yet over 'gainst these troubles set, 
 
 Remembering a woman's debt, 
 
 (Which none but shirkers will forget) ; 
 
 And also, to what blessed end 
 
 Both fortitude and duty tend; 
 
 She there resolved to meet her fate, 
 
 As it should come, with mind sedate. 
 
 Resigned^ to work and wait. 
 
 Returned she then, ere it grew late, 
 
 To aid her mother at their cottage. 
 
 And share the evening meal of pottage. 
 
 Her life resumed its normal course; 
 
 Her state nor better seemed, nor worse. 
 
 A lover came, and she was wed. 
 
 Much as the woodnymph strange had said; 
 
 And day by day she saw unfold 
 
 Her history, as it was told, 
 
 In her own words beside the fountain 
 
 That sprang from Allegheny's mountain. 
 
 I knew her well. I've witnessed all. 
 
 From farmer's cot to statesman's hall; 
 
 I thrice have seen her bowed with grief; 
 
 But faith redemptive gave relief; 
 
 The blows her spirit made more bright. 
 
 And raised it up to loftier height — 
 
 63 
 
Gave strength still greater tasks to do, 
 And greater objects to pursue. 
 Philanthropy devoid of pride, 
 Became her constant, active guide, 
 And all her motives purified. 
 She borrowed sons, and thus supplied 
 The boon which Mature had denied 
 To her, whose precious children died. 
 A morning star, a well of jo3^s, 
 The queen she was of troops of boys. 
 Who loved her as their common mother. 
 And loving her, each loved another. 
 Both as a friend and as a brother. 
 "I am the friend of eveiy boy," 
 She often said: "My greatest joy 
 Consists in pleasing and in leading 
 A strong, rough boy by gentle pleading; 
 And so with boys I fill my home, 
 And pray that man}^ more may come. 
 My light, though dim, has often led. 
 Until a greater light w^as shed ; 
 From me to Christ m}^ legions tread; 
 Pursuing still the greater light 
 Which banishes all trace of night. 
 Oft are the humblest called to teach 
 The things which science cannot reach. 
 God has abundant work for all ; 
 And each should labor, lest he fall. 
 Upon the waters, all my bread 
 I cast, that children may be fed." 
 
 64 
 
Another solace, too, she sought 
 
 In lofty spiritual thought — 
 
 She Plato loved for what he taught; 
 
 But most of all, the Nazarene, 
 
 In whose philosophy is seen 
 
 The wisdom of both God and man, 
 
 Digested in one mighty plan 
 
 To save, uplift, perfect mankind — 
 
 A plan wherein we plainly find 
 
 The soul declared immortal, free, 
 
 And able of itself to be. 
 
 With spirit-friends, she converse held; 
 
 And ever sternly she repelled 
 
 The doctrine that the dead are naught. 
 
 As one with shame and evil fraught. 
 
 The dignity of woman, too, 
 
 As taught in Jesus' Gospel true. 
 
 Whereby her sex had freedom gained. 
 
 She ever stubbornly maintained. 
 
 This noble tenet, full of strength. 
 
 She pushed it to its utmost length. 
 
 As Jefferson the rights of man 
 
 Had pushed, when freedom here began; 
 
 And based the claim on God's decree 
 
 That all men are created free, 
 
 That everA^ human mind is free. 
 
 65 
 
SAYINGS OF A SIBYL 
 
 Many think their work is done 
 While 'tis onty just begun. 
 
 He who does the best he can, 
 Does as well as anv man. 
 
 He who does his best, 
 May leave to God the rest. 
 
 Borrow, when you have a need, 
 But repay, with honest speed. 
 
 God is good and true; 
 Man should be so, too. 
 
 To rule by love, and not by fear. 
 Would save us man}^ a sigh and tear. 
 
 The borrower is never right. 
 Unless he has the end in sight. 
 
 You loan a hand to another. 
 But you owe it to j^our mother. 
 
 A man of many sorrows 
 Could comfort give to others. 
 
 66 
 
He who knows should borrow, 
 For him who hath sorrow. 
 
 Many sorrow, 
 But few borrow. 
 
 Many a man, 'tis true. 
 Would borrow if thev knew. 
 
 All do not reach God's hand: 
 Borrow of one who can. 
 
 Borrowed hands are waiting, 
 Borrowed hands of Angels. 
 
 Borrowed hands of a borrowed man can 
 Borrow a hand of a long forgotten man. 
 
 Man}^ come ; there's a chosen few : 
 Would you be one of the chosen, too? 
 
 You are a child of God, too; 
 Let his light shine upon you. 
 
 You should borrow of God's word, 
 Because he is a just God. 
 
 How many would borrow of God, if they could ; 
 How many could borrow of Him, if they would ! 
 
 67 
 
Many who would borrow know not how. 
 Others know, but will not borrow now. 
 
 God would have you lend jonr aid, 
 But you withhold it till you're paid. 
 
 Many a man could help a man, 
 If a man would let a man. 
 
 Your guardian spirit came at dawn; 
 But while you slept, it journej^ed on ; 
 And Opportunity is gone. 
 
 Complain not of your cruel fate : 
 You merit it for being late. 
 
 Kise ever with the Morning Star ; 
 And Fortune's door you'll find ajar. 
 
 Many borrow, if they can ; 
 
 Many would not, if they could : 
 Some deny to God and man: 
 
 Others act as neighbors should; 
 Placing rascals under ban; 
 
 Lending freely to the good. 
 Borrower and lender, then. 
 
 Models are, for honest men. 
 
 68 
 
Who grinds at my mill is my friend, 
 Though not a dime has he to lend. 
 
 Many a borrower borrows 
 Arrows winged with sorrows. 
 
 Many a lender lends the knife, 
 Wherewith the borrower takes his life. 
 
 69 
 
ONE OF MY BOYS 
 
 Sad, sad, is my heart, to-day ! 
 
 One of my boys has gone astray ! 
 
 By companions evil, was he 
 
 Lured to mingle in frolic and spree. 
 
 But he is one of my boys still ; 
 
 Though strong his passion, and weak his will ; 
 
 Come ! return, boy, to thy home ! 
 
 Pledge me never again to roam. 
 
 70 
 
THE SPARROWS 
 
 A flock of merry sparrows came, 
 And settled near my door. 
 
 I coddled them to make them tame, 
 And fed them bran galore. 
 
 Apace the flock in nmnbers grew, 
 For each his neighbor brought; 
 
 And o'er each morsel that I threw, 
 They twittered, ate, and fought. 
 
 For all the world, like silly men. 
 They played their little parts, 
 
 Unmindful of the moment when 
 
 A fang should pierce their hearts. 
 
 My cunning house cat lay, ere long, 
 
 In ambush near the spot. 
 Where the^^ in glee would daily throng. 
 
 Her presence heeding not. 
 
 But why proceed? You know the rest. 
 
 The cat and sparrows met ; 
 And ere the sun sank in the West, 
 
 The cat her table set. 
 
 men and sparrows, boys and rats ! 
 
 This lesson ponder well ; 
 The world abounds in stealth}^ cats 
 
 That hunt without a bell. 
 
 71 
 
MASTER FRED AND DOGGIE TED 
 
 A little dog has Master Fred, 
 A little dog whose name is Ted. 
 A cunning little whelp is he, 
 As cunning as a whelp could be. 
 Wherever Master Fred you spy, 
 You may be sure that Ted is nigh ; 
 From earty morn till close of day. 
 They spend the hours in frolic gay. 
 
 But Fred, alas ! to school must go, 
 What think you Teddy now will do? 
 How can the whelp himself amuse ? 
 Behold ! he spies Fred's Sunday shoes. 
 And soon, with jaws like sharpened saws, 
 His Master's swell footwear he gnaws. 
 
 But hark ! there comes a meriy shout. 
 Which tells 3^ou plainl}^ "school is out.' 
 With eager eyes and joyous bound, 
 Fred hurries home and glances round. 
 He calls his dog and calls again; 
 But all his calling is in vain. 
 At last he peeps beneath the bed. 
 And sees his ruined shoes and Ted. 
 
 72 
 
''Confound the dog/' in wrath he cries, 
 ''He's eaten up my oxford ties! 
 The mischievous, destructive dunce, 
 I'll send him to the pound at once." 
 But Mother whispers, "Fie! dear Fred; 
 How could you punish playful Ted? 
 To settle the unlucky case. 
 Your oxford ties I will replace." 
 
 Forgiven then are Teddy's pranks. 
 And Fred to Mother offers thanks; 
 Cute Teddy, rescued from the pound, 
 Fares forth with Fred, and romps around. 
 Though you in paradise should be, 
 No fonder playmates would you see. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 To every noble-hearted boy. 
 Forgiving is a source of joy ; 
 To be forgiven any wrong. 
 Entraps the heart in meshes strong. 
 
 73 
 
THE WORKING MAN 
 
 Whoever does the best he can 
 
 May leave to God the rest ; 
 He does as much as any man, 
 
 Who always does his best. 
 
 God loves a willing worker well, 
 
 And lendeth Him his aid; 
 With gifts more rich than tongue can tell; 
 
 The working man is paid. 
 
 With health, and strength, and joyous life, 
 And sweet contentment blessed, 
 
 He 'scapes the curse of care and strife. 
 Who always does his best. 
 
 74 
 
 I 
 
AWAKE 
 
 Oh, remember the things thou hast heard! 
 
 To the glory of God be awake. 
 Be awake to the power of His word, 
 
 Nor ever His counsel forsake. 
 
 Oh, forget not His wonderful love! 
 
 How the burdens of sinners He bore ; 
 How He came from His kingdom above. 
 
 The estate we had lost, to restore. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 75 
 
f^-'s 25 1911 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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