v/M' 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap Copyright No.. 
 
 ShelU^.5.7% 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN NIURRAY CASK. 
 
 /.v "..-^v; .;,,, 'Cp^ 
 
 m 6 189?^ 
 
 COLUMBUS, O : 
 
 HANN 4 ADAIR, PRINTERS. 
 1895. 
 
 h 
 
 '^''^^ 
 
-fS lai^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1895, by 
 
 John Murray Case, 
 In the Office of the Librarian ol Congress at Washington. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 Aother — thou who did'st leave me when a child— 
 
 A little child, with crushed and bleeding heart;- 
 Leave me a tender plant amidst the wild 
 
 Weeds, and the thorns to act alone my part; — 
 To thee, sweet mother, do 1 give the praise 
 
 That 1 am what I am, for tho' long dead. 
 Thy spirit guards as in my infant days; 
 
 And by thine own dear spirit hand I'm lead;— 
 And all my sweetest, tend'rest songs of love. 
 Thou bringest, A\other, from thy home above. 
 
 TO THY DEAR MEMORY, MOTHER, 
 
 AND 
 
 TO MY BELOVED WIFE, 
 
 LUCY WILKINS CASE, 
 
 WHOSE WISE COUNSEL AND CAREFUL SELECTION, HAS RELIEVED MY BOOK OF" 
 
 MUCH THAT MIGHT OTHERWISE HAVE BEEN OBJECTIONABLE, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS MOST LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ON the first day of Jauuary, 1887, I wrote the short 
 poem which begins this volume, and resolved 
 that during the year I would write something each day. 
 This resolution I faithfully followed for two successive 
 years, during which time I composed the greater por- 
 tion of the poems herein contained. They were written, 
 principally, in railroad cars, ocean steamers and hotels, 
 in the midst of an active business life, my custom being 
 to jot down whatever thoughts suggested themselves at 
 intervals between business hours. Had I made it a life 
 study to write verse I might have produced a more 
 polished collection, but probably not more original in 
 thought, or of greater interest to the general reader. 
 The book has cost no valuable time, but has given me 
 many hours of pleasant amusement, and if my fellow- 
 travelers, or others who may read it, shall reap some 
 benefits from its pages, I shall be content — never ask- 
 ing what the critics may say. 
 
 The Author. 
 
NEW YEAR'S DAY. 
 
 1887. 
 
 TF each day as the year rolls on, 
 i We can but treasure up one thought, 
 We'll find when all the days are gone, 
 That not one day was spent for naught. 
 
 And now while bells are ringing in 
 The bright New Year we will resolve. 
 
 My pen and I, to here begin 
 An unknown something to evolve. 
 
 We know not what, we have no aim. 
 But idle moments to employ — 
 
 Those moments which oft lead to shame- 
 When devils guide and imps decoy. 
 
 True, what we write may worthless be, 
 Yet valueless the time we use ; 
 
 My pen may be good company. 
 Though ne'er directed by a Muse. 
 
 And while the days and months go by, 
 Until the year has passed away, 
 
 We:'ll keep our vow — my pen and I, 
 And scribble something every day. 
 5 
 
THE UNrATHOnABLE. 
 
 THE windows of my soul to-night 
 Are open wide for wisdom's light ; 
 I pray with manhood's deepest prayer, 
 Where is true knowledge found ? Oh, where? 
 
 It is a treasure God doth keep. 
 Within the vortex of the deep ; 
 And only shadows reach mankind, 
 Or penetrate the greatest mind. 
 
 Were I so great that I might stand, 
 And grasp the blue vault with my hand. 
 And in God's Cosmos plunge this cup, 
 I'd simply bring some pebbles up. 
 
 If I might ride upon some star. 
 
 That sweeps through regions near and far; 
 
 Or, yet be carried by the light. 
 
 That haunts the depths and drinks the night, 
 
 And thus for ages — pace on pace. 
 Should seek to find some hiding place, 
 Yet, still beyond the glit'ring throng, 
 Would watch me as I sped along. 
 
 While I should find no bounds to space, 
 Yet everywhere should see God's face ; 
 And from this journey would return. 
 Assured I'd scarce begun to learn. 
 6 
 
TAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 
 
 C AITH is the motive force of mind ; 
 *• It moves the earth, directs mankind, 
 Inspires the will and nerves the soul 
 To conquer all — to all control. 
 
 Hope is an angel, fair and bright, 
 God sends to make our burdens light ; 
 She drives the dismal shades away 
 And makes life's midnight light as day. 
 
 Charity, greatest of the three, 
 
 To Faith adds works, makes blind Hope see ; 
 
 Forgetting self in Christian deeds, 
 
 She clothes the naked, hungry feeds. 
 
 The three united in one heart. 
 Each helps sustain the others' part ; 
 The three in one, the one in three — 
 Oh ! God, I pray give all to me ! 
 
GOD'S SUNSHINE. 
 
 CAN plants grow green without sunshine ? 
 Can lilies bloom without sunlight ? 
 Can I expect sweet comfort mine, 
 Unless I live for God and right ? 
 
 God's sunshine warms the human heart, 
 And drives away the darkness there ; 
 And may it be my humble part 
 His sunshine, light and love to share. 
 
 "SOWING SEEDS OE LOVE." 
 
 T T BRE, these little seeds I'm sowing, 
 *■ *■ O'er her grave — O'er her grave ; 
 And quite soon they will be growing, 
 With their dewy tendrils flowing, 
 O'er her grave. 
 
 Then the cold, fresh earth they'll cover. 
 
 O'er her grave — O'er her grave ; 
 lyike the spirit of a lover. 
 They will sweetly, sweetly hover 
 O'er her grave. 
 
In the fragrance of the flowers, 
 
 'Round her grave — 'Round her grave ; 
 In the shades of leafy bowers, 
 I will spend my evening hours, 
 
 'Round her grave. 
 
 When my heart is sadly beating, 
 
 By her grave — By her grave ; 
 And I feel her spirit greeting. 
 Oh ! how sweet — how sweet the meeting 
 By her grave ! 
 
 See the starlight gleams are darting, 
 
 From the crystals on her grave ; 
 And as I am homeward starting, 
 Oh ! how sad, my love, this parting 
 From thy grave ! 
 
 Now I leave you, dear one, sleeping. 
 In the grave — In the grave ; 
 
 Still, a voice cries — " Cease thy weeping, 
 
 I am in the angels' keeping, 
 Not the grave !" 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 T^HERE is one sacred blessing the poorest may share, 
 *■ And that is the holy, the blessed hour of prayer ; 
 When the soul upward turns in its heavenly flight, 
 And God sends his blessings like dews in the night. 
 
 In all of life's stations, the bonded and free, 
 May find consolation in bending the knee ; 
 Then darkness will vanish and God's golden light 
 Come down from above like dews in the night. 
 
 I've seen the fair lilies and growing grain pray, 
 Their foliage bowed down by the heat of the day ; 
 When morning's dawn came, each leaflet shone bright, 
 For the answers came down in the dews of the night. 
 
 The leaves in the forest turn upward in praise, 
 And the green fields sparkle in the sun's bright rays ; 
 The tender buds glow with enraptured delight. 
 For food that God sent in the dews of the night. 
 
 When souls are an-hungered and spirits grow bare, 
 God sends divine dew drops in answer to prayer ; 
 Faint hearts are uplifted, and faces grow bright, 
 While blessings flow down like the dews of the night. 
 
 10 
 
A\Y nrriETH birthday. 
 
 THE clock is striking twelve — Ah ! there, 'tis done ! 
 Another year is buried in the past ; 
 This day I'm fifty years of age, 
 The sixth day of the gray October month ; 
 That month when white frosts gleam on roof and fence, 
 And icy fingers glitter on the eaves, 
 And cold tear drops fall from the withered flowers ; 
 That month when ripe fruits part from bending trees, 
 And northwest winds scatter the yellow leaves, 
 And bare limbs reach up to'ard the cold, blue sky. 
 That month when melancholy shrouds the earth ; 
 Downcast — the dying weeping for the dead ; 
 When forest birds take up their southern flight. 
 And insects die upon the withered stems. 
 That month when Nature's festive days have gone, 
 And dancing revelry is heard no more 
 Among the low, bowed forms of dying plants, 
 But calm, wise thought bears heavy on the brow 
 Of scarlet mantled hills, and deep sighs heave 
 The frosted breast of leafy covered plains. 
 
 Now, while my heart beats slower than of old. 
 Yet faster seems the ticking of the clock, 
 I feel life's autumn heavy on my soul ; 
 I look around to garner in the sheaves 
 
 11 
 
And pluck the ripe fruit from the leafless trees ; 
 
 But, ah ! how many fields have grown to weeds, 
 
 How many trees have bloomed to bear no fruit ! 
 
 But now, I see a work that may be done 
 
 In winter time of life — a work of love : 
 
 For can I not wrap up the little shrubs, 
 
 To keep the snows and frosty winds away ? 
 
 Can I not help replace the broken glass 
 
 And build the fires to warm the tender plants ? 
 
 Can I not nail the scattered shingles on. 
 
 And stop the gaps around the window frames ? 
 
 Can I not build a shelter for the lambs ? 
 
 Ah ! yes, there's work for me in autumn time, 
 
 The noblest, greatest work of all the year ! 
 
 I've closed an epoch in the Book of Life, 
 And this day write the first page of the new. 
 Back through the scarlet records I have run, 
 But Lo ! on every page the spotted ink 
 Has marred the beauty of each line and word. 
 I close the leaves and through them drive steel nails, 
 And on an anvil clinch them firm and strong ; 
 And then deep down within my heart resolve 
 To write the closing chapter bold and clear. 
 With golden colored ink, on silvery lines, 
 And spotless pages fringed with rainbow shades. 
 But while I thus resolve I know, full well, 
 
 12 
 
I cannot guide aright my wayward pen, 
 Unless the love of Christ my right arm nerves ; 
 And may He thus direct it, till the last 
 Dim scroll is traced, and the pen falls lifeless 
 Beside the words, " Well done !" 
 
 A\Y PLIRT THOUGHTS. 
 
 A MYSTIC vapor as it were. 
 The ether drinking light. 
 Or yet the sleepy evening air, 
 Undressing for the night ; 
 A thought, a rhythmic sound, and then 
 A rolling of my poet eyes — 
 And then — and then, I grasp my pen 
 The fleeting thought to throttle — 
 Away it flies oflf in the skies — 
 Again I roll my poet eyes 
 And stab the gawking bottle. 
 
 13 
 
OH ! DO NOT BE DISCOURAGED ! 
 
 OH ! do not be discouraged when the sun sinks low^ 
 And twilight fast is fading from the blue ! 
 For soon the stars will twinkle and the bright moon glow, 
 And all the leaves will sparkle with the dew. 
 
 Oh ! do not be discouraged when the midnight skies 
 Are dark, and all the shining stars are gone ! 
 
 Be brave and ever hopeful, for the sun will rise ; 
 Take courage and be looking to'ard the dawn. 
 
 Oh ! do not be discouraged when the time seems long,, 
 Thy heart will grow more tender for the night ; 
 
 And sweeter far the roses and the bird's bright song, 
 And richer far the glow of morning light. 
 
 Oh ! do not be discouraged when the last sun wanes. 
 
 And God is calling — calling you away ; 
 Above the Son of Righteousness forever reigns — 
 
 Illuminates the one eternal day. 
 
 Then, whatso'er befall you, keep a cheerful soul ; 
 
 'Twill give you strength to stem the adverse tide: — 
 The seaman's heart is bravest when the mad waves roll^ 
 
 For there's no harbor in mid ocean wide. 
 
 14 
 
THE TEA\PTER'S VICTORY. 
 
 " Vice is a monster of so friglitful mien 
 As to be hated, needs but to be seen ; 
 Yet, seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
 We first endure, then pity, then embrace." — Pope. 
 
 THOU hideous monster of the air ! Thou Fiend ! 
 Thou grinning devil long from virtue weaned ! 
 Why com'st thou here? What wouldst thou ask of me ? 
 Wouldst thou contrive to make me one with thee — 
 Wolf-like to stealthy prowl at midnight's hour, 
 And finding souls asleep, to them devour? 
 Depart ! I would not care thy ways to know ! 
 See yonder open door ? Begone ! — Go ! — Go ! 
 
 Dost thou not hear? Why wilt thou not obey ? 
 Must I upon my bended knees bow down and pray 
 To one whom God hath banished from His throne? 
 Depart ! for I will worship God alone ! 
 Yet still there are about thee many charms, 
 That pleaseth much mine eyes — my soul alarms — 
 But go. Good Devil ! Go — Please go, I pray — 
 Dear Demon, Go ! and call another day. 
 
 He does not move, but calmly smiles on me ; 
 He waves a Magic Wand, and now — ah ! see, 
 All hideous faces change to angels fair. 
 While red-winged spirits stir the wine-fumed air. 
 Oh! stay, dear Fiend! thou wouldst not leave me now^ 
 Or place thy wreaths upon another's brow ; 
 Thou loveliest being of the air, oh ! stay ! 
 Abide with me, I pray — For Aye — For Aye ! 
 
 15 
 
BY ANGELS LED. 
 
 THE night was cold, 
 And the light 
 Of London's lamps 
 Glittered on the snow, 
 While Mary wandered, 
 Whither she did not know. 
 
 Fatherless, Motherless, Friendless, 
 Except that Friend above. 
 Whose endless love, 
 Is ever over those 
 Who trust in Him. 
 
 Wearied by her wandering and led, 
 By some mysterious force, she knew not what, 
 She sought 
 A refuge by a great church door. 
 
 And the roar 
 Of the bleak winds upon the steeple high, 
 Made hideous music ; and the black sky 
 Showered its storm-whirled sleet 
 Around her feet, 
 But a sweet 
 Small voice within. 
 Kept whispering words of cheer, 
 And she felt no fear. 
 
 And when the rude, rough men, 
 16 
 
Who passed thereby, 
 
 Thought to vie 
 
 Her into sin, 
 
 They saw a glittering tear-drop in her eye, 
 
 And a face that marked a pure soul within. 
 
 And then they went their way ; 
 
 And there poor Mary stood till the day 
 
 Dawned. There in the chilly winds — 
 
 There all alone — 
 
 There in the drifting sleet — 
 
 There all alone ; 
 
 But the voice of prayer 
 
 Moved upon her lips, 
 
 And the guardian angels whispered low and sweet ; 
 
 And so all through the dreary night 
 
 Her faith was steadfast, and her hopes were bright. 
 
 Thus stood the Maiden 
 When the Sexton came to ring the bells ; 
 And he saw in the features of that sad sweet face, 
 The shade of deep sorrow. 
 But lighted with grace. 
 
 And he said, "Fair Maid, why standest thou there, 
 To suflfer the pangs of the cold damp air, 
 For it is not yet time for the Morning Prayer?" 
 
 The Maiden answered, 
 " I came not here, kind sir, to pray, 
 But yesterday 
 
 2 17 
 
I wandered upon the great highway, 
 
 And people pushed me, here and there ; 
 
 But all the while I murmured words of prayer. 
 
 I know not why I came to this old church," she said, 
 
 " Hither by some strange force I'm led — 
 
 Perhaps by the Spirit of my Mother, 
 
 She whom they laid away but yesterday — 
 
 Buried in the Potter's Field. 
 
 I saw the coffin sealed — 
 
 I watched the dead cart disappear. 
 
 And then I turned and looked within my dreary home, 
 
 When dread fear 
 
 Came over me, and then I fled ; 
 
 And so I wandered all the day, 
 
 'Till the night came on, when here beneath this arch I 
 
 hid away. 
 And when the winds blew cold, 
 I felt my Mother's arms around me fold. 
 All through the dark drear night. 
 My Mother's Spirit hath been here," 
 The Maiden said, 
 And she wiped away a tear. 
 
 " And who was your Mother, my fair, sweet Maid? 
 Thus spake the Sexton. 
 
 She was a Christian" — (answered the Maiden with 
 grace, and a heavenly light stole over her face.) 
 " And a woman of sorrows ; 
 
 18 
 
And oft we did not know from whence the morrow's 
 
 Bread would come ; but she on Christ relied, 
 
 And so we were supplied 
 
 From day to day — 
 
 Thus may it be, her spirit says — 
 
 Thus will it be with me — 
 
 My mother's name? — Oh ! it was Jessie Lee. 
 
 And who might your Father be ? 
 My Father, he is dead, 
 So it hath been said, 
 
 Though whether this be true we do not know. 
 He was a soldier in the India Insurrection ; 
 He left when I was but a child. 
 And so of him I have no recollection. 
 Ma always thought that he was lost at sea — 
 His name ? — Oh ! it was Joseph Lee. 
 
 And then the Sexton's bosom swells, 
 And he forgot to ring the bells. 
 But grasped the Maiden's hand and smiled, 
 Then calmly said : 
 
 " Your Father, dear one, is not dead ; 
 Thou art my child, my long lost child ; 
 My own sweet daughter, Mary Lee, 
 For whom I've sought these long, long years — 
 Come home with me !" 
 And Mary wiped away her tears. 
 And closely to her Father's arm did cling : — 
 And people wondered why the church bells did not ring. 
 
 19 
 
THE HEART'S CLOSET. 
 
 OH ! for some place of sweet repose, 
 Some silent, sheltered nook! 
 Where undisturbed the lily grows 
 Beside the flowing brook. 
 
 Oh ! for a silent walk with God, 
 
 Where leafy shades abound ! 
 Where none but God-like feet have trod. 
 
 And all is holy ground. 
 Oh ! for some place my God to meet, 
 
 In secret, humble prayer ! 
 That I might in communion sweet, 
 
 Receive his blessings there. 
 
 Oh ! for some rock, some cleft, some glade, 
 
 Some place of quiet rest ! 
 Where I might kneel beneath the shade, 
 
 And linger till God blessed. 
 
 Oh ! for a glimpse of one bright ray. 
 
 From God's Eternal Throne ! 
 To cheer me on this sunless day. 
 
 When life's sweet dreams have flown. 
 
 20 
 
LirE'S RIVER. 
 
 T^HIS life is like a wand'ring brook, 
 
 ^ That on the highlands takes its source, 
 Whate'er we do, 'twill wind and crook, 
 For even pebbles change its course. 
 
 As farther from the fountain head 
 
 It onward to the ocean flows, 
 By bitter springs it oft is fed. 
 
 And thus is born life's bitter woes. 
 
 The stream may be encased in walls. 
 And all obstructions moved away. 
 
 Yet, on its bed the serpent crawls. 
 
 And muddy springs seep through the clay. 
 
 No river ever reached the sea. 
 
 But what some reptile swam within ; — 
 No soul was ever born so free, 
 
 But what has felt the pangs of sin. 
 
 But yet, there is one flowing Spring, 
 Whose crystal waters we may share — 
 
 'Tis full forgiveness by our King, 
 In answer to an earnest prayer. 
 
 21 
 
WESTAMNSTER ABBEY. 
 
 WITHIN these walls — these old arched wings, 
 And dark recesses deep, 
 The wasting bones of England's Kings, 
 In solemn silence sleep. 
 
 My spirit moves in mystic dread, 
 
 Death's shadows overcast. 
 While here I walk amidst the dead 
 
 Of generations passed. 
 
 And as I scan each mold'ring tomb, 
 
 I feel a sadness borne ; 
 I see a veil of death-like gloom, 
 
 And hear the Silence mourn. 
 
 Here Ancient Britain's greatness lies ; 
 
 How small the circle's grown, 
 Of those who ruled 'neath all the skies. 
 
 And reigned on England's Throne. 
 
 Here Roman strength, and Saxon pride. 
 
 And Irish lancets keen, 
 And old Wales' Crown, rest, side by side, 
 
 With Scotland's Highland Queen. 
 
 This massive pile of sacred stones 
 Will crumble into dust, 
 22 
 
And mingle with forgotten bones, 
 These tombs now hold in trust. 
 
 For change is marked upon the brow 
 
 Of every living thing ; — 
 The old Tombs gape, and Monarchs bow 
 
 To Death, their Sovereign King. 
 
 What matters though a Czar we reign. 
 
 Or live an humble slave ; 
 A few short years and Lo ! life's plain 
 
 Is leveled by the grave. 
 
 But yet, I know, men live in deed — 
 
 Eternal is the mind, 
 And every thought is as a seed 
 
 To bless or curse mankind. 
 
 And who, in all this vast array, 
 
 Of mighty dead I scan, 
 Lives most in thought or deed this day 
 
 To bless their fellow-man ? 
 
 'Twas not the King, whose crimson hands. 
 
 Sought only selfish ends ; 
 'Twas not the Warrior, nor his clans. 
 
 Who murdered foes and friends ; 
 
'Twas not the Lords, nor Statesmen wise, 
 Nor, yet, rough Cromwell great. 
 
 Who only helped Great Britain rise, 
 And guarded well the State ; 
 
 But those who stamped on England's breast 
 
 The Cross of Calvary, 
 Did more for man than all the rest — 
 
 And greater far are they. 
 
 ON SEEING THE OLD ELAG AT QUEENSTOWN. 
 
 K TO language can picture the deep soul devotion, 
 ^ ^ I feel for the flag of my own native land. 
 When great seas divide, and the deep, rolling ocean 
 Has covered the foot-prints I left on the sand. 
 
 I dream, and I watch the great waves in my dream- 
 ings, 
 
 And hear them still dash on Columbia's shore; 
 I see the old flag on the ramparts still streaming. 
 And reach for the latch string that once hung from 
 my door. 
 
 And the old hickory hinges that screak when they 
 open, 
 I've never heard music so precious to me, 
 But the hinges are gone, the latch string is broken. 
 And I wander a stranger far over the sea. 
 24 
 
AN APPRECIATIVE AUDIENCE. 
 
 WHEN I was young and went to school, 
 I often " spoke a piece ;" 
 And every eve it was my rule 
 To lecture to the geese. 
 
 On Olentangy's banks I spoke, 
 
 And beat the vacant air ; 
 While feathered flocks with cheers awoke 
 
 The hills and valleys there. 
 
 " I come not here to talk ! " — I cried, 
 " You know too well the knaves. 
 Who steal the feathers from your hide, 
 And leave you shiv'ring slaves !" 
 
 Then ganders squawked and beat their wings ; 
 
 Aloft each held his head. 
 While modest geese thought wond'rous things. 
 
 Were wonderfully said. 
 
 Since then have passed full forty years, 
 
 My audience is no more ; 
 Still, mem'ry hears, those grand old cheers. 
 
 On Olentangy's shore. 
 
 •lo 
 
THE TEMPTER'S SONG. 
 
 T ' VE many things to tell you, 
 ^ And handsome things you'll see ; 
 Come, come, my noble fellow, 
 Please come along with me ! 
 
 I've pictures in my hall, sir, 
 
 Gold goblets on the shelf, 
 And mirrors by the wall, sir. 
 
 You may behold yourself. 
 
 The music will entrance, sir, 
 And maidens bright and fair. 
 
 Will sing, and play, and dance, sir, 
 To cheer you while you're there. 
 
 The goblets jingle, jingle. 
 
 While merrily we sing. 
 And varied chorals mingle, 
 
 Like notes of birds in spring. 
 
 Your home is dark and dreary. 
 
 Oh ! come along with me ! 
 I'm sure you'll not grow weary 
 
 Of the sweet melody. 
 
 26 
 
Soon Satan's web has bound him, 
 He steps beyond the brink, 
 
 And many gather 'round him, 
 When all unite in drink. 
 
 One step in sin's vocation, 
 His moral death begins — 
 
 Take heed and shun temptation, 
 Or woman, when she sins. 
 
 BITTER AND SWEET. 
 
 T N bitt'rest shrub I ever knew, 
 *■ Some honey I have found ; 
 In fairest flower that ever grew, 
 The bitter may abound. 
 
 The thorn that wounds the gath'ring hand. 
 
 Rich fruit will often give ; 
 And rarest plant in all the land, 
 
 May midst the rushes live. 
 
 27 
 
THE TALES OE THE A\1LL. 
 
 O ARDS of all ages have harped of the Mill ; 
 
 ■■-^ Still, the goose comes waddling up with her quill, 
 
 With Cupid astride, and a scroll in her bill ; 
 
 And the dry jug drinks of the wizard inks, 
 
 And the bald Muse leans from the window sill. 
 
 And tuning his fiddle with notes that thrill, 
 
 Breaks forth with new songs of the Mill— Mill— Mill. 
 
 Not the new-fangled Mill that towers so high. 
 It belches, in clouds, its breath on the sky. 
 And fills us with awe as we pass thereby ; — 
 Of such a great thing we never could sing ; 
 But the old Custom Mill, the flood-battered Mill, 
 The Neighborhood Mill, just under the hill. 
 So dear in childhood, seems dear to us still. 
 
 There oft have we sat, while the wheels went 'round, 
 
 With jolly good set as ever was found, 
 
 Waiting our turn for our grist to be ground ; — 
 
 And the stories there told the world could not hold ; 
 
 While the pop-corn leaped from the stove's red glare, 
 
 Fairy-like spread its white winglets in air, 
 
 Then perched, like dovelets, on sweet maiden's hair. 
 
 28 
 
On ringlets that kissed the cheek of a rose, 
 Freshened and brightened by the nibbling snows ; 
 And I loved those cheeks as the Mill Muse knows ; 
 But why, Hairless Shades, call up these sweet maids, 
 To pester the pate of one gray and old? 
 Beware ! — you bald wretch, what thou shalt unfold ! 
 For aye ! — Thou hast tales too sweet to be told ! 
 
 YOUTH'S HOPES. 
 
 THE hopes of youth that once were fresh and green, 
 Like scarlet leaves are scattered to the breeze ; 
 Still, in life's Autumn branches may be seen, 
 Hope's birdling-nest, as in the disrobed trees. 
 
 But in the nest there's scraps of mouldy shell; 
 
 And 'round the nest a mossy fringe has grown ; 
 And through the nest the busy insects dwell ; 
 
 And from the nest the birdlings all have flown. 
 
 DEAD SEEDS. 
 
 ' nniS folly, my dear one, these old seeds to sow, 
 -*■ They never can heal the crushed heart thou 
 hast bled ; 
 
 No grain will e'er ripen, no grass ever grow, 
 By sowing the husk when the kernel is dead. 
 
 29 
 
CAUSE AND CrrECT. 
 
 SKEPTIC. 
 
 THERE are some things I'd like to know, 
 Will some wise one divine, 
 How God could make the grass to grow, 
 Without a sun to shine? 
 
 How Light could from the Darkness spring, 
 
 And how have Eve and Morn, 
 While yet, the great Celestial King 
 
 Was still a thing unborn? 
 
 But thus we're taught, and must believe. 
 
 Or else be damned they say ; — 
 Then if I'm damned, that God will grieve, 
 
 Who gave my Reason sway. 
 
 I believe in God's Omniscient plan ; 
 
 In his unchanging laws ; 
 And ever since the world began. 
 
 Effect has followed Cause. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Ah ! true Effect must follow Cause ; 
 
 Unchanging are God's won'drous laws ; 
 But know ye not the sun had birth 
 
 Upon the natal day of earth, 
 Although unseen by earthly eyes 
 
 Until the clouds unveiled the skies ? 
 Then bursting on the Prophet's view, 
 
 To him it was an object new : — 
 The Prophet only dimly scanned 
 
 The works of God's Creative Hand. 
 30 
 
THE BURNING Or JOAN Or ARC. 
 
 JOAN OF ARC, thou maiden fair ; 
 Thy time-worn statute standing there 
 Entwined with wreaths, points out the spot 
 Where thou was burned — Oh ! wicked thought ! 
 
 A melancholly fills my soul — 
 I hear the great old church bell toll — 
 Just over there — the same old bell 
 That rang fair Joan's funeral knell ! 
 
 And quick, a panoramic train 
 Of horrid visions, cross my brain. 
 As though mine eyes did really see 
 This wicked, shameful tragedy ! 
 
 The death cart slowly moves along. 
 
 And back the Knight Guards press the throng ! 
 
 While on the breeze the doleful sound 
 
 Of muffled drum, and flute, resound ! 
 
 The wicked strokes upon the stake, 
 Strike deep the heart, and sobs awake ; 
 And God's own sunshine, veiled in cloud, 
 Cast o'er the spot a dismal shroud. 
 
 31 
 
Now, I behold her sweet, sad face, 
 As pale as death, but rich in grace ; 
 And while the)^ bind her to the rod. 
 In silent prayer she looks to God. 
 
 A felon's chain, like coiling snake, 
 Confines her nude form to the stake, 
 While down her bosom, marble fair. 
 In ringlets falls her golden hair. 
 
 Following close within her track. 
 
 With dry wood faggots on their back, 
 
 A long procession quickly flows, 
 
 And fast the dreadful " Death-Pile " grows. 
 
 Just over there, the " King's Command," 
 In armor full, and spears in hand. 
 And Robed Priests gather, " in God's name " 
 To consummate this shameful shame ! 
 
 I hear the wicked sentence read, 
 And Joan meekly bows her head ; 
 " No Witch shall live, is God's command" — 
 Proclaims the Priest — " apply the brand ! '' 
 
 A stillness reigns profoundly deep, 
 As when God's holy angels weep ; 
 I hide my face — I hold my breath. 
 When first I view the torch of death ! 
 
 32 
 
One moment more — the stillnesis breaks, 
 And through the corpse-like throng awakes 
 A mournful wail, as when death's gloom 
 Unfurls her mantle from the tomb. 
 
 Manhood in chains is made to weep : — , 
 Priesthood, in superstition deep 
 Feels not a pang of conscience thrill, 
 Since this foul deed is " God's own will." 
 
 A tragic madness sways the throng — 
 Men rush to save, but soldiers strong, 
 With burnished spears, keep back the clan, 
 Who glad would die to save Joan. 
 
 And now I see the black smoke rise. 
 While fair Joan, with upturned eyes. 
 Implores God's Light on France's gloom. 
 Then calmly waits her pending doom. 
 
 Oh ! Thrones of Justice ! — God ! — Our God ! 
 Can'st Thou not break this hellish rod ? — 
 Or rend these cruel chains that bind 
 Thine own best type of woman-kind ? 
 
 But see ! — The fumes more densely grow, 
 And burning tears unbidden flow 
 A-down fair Joan's heav'nly face. 
 While glowing sparks each other chase 
 33 
 
And now the bursting flames grow white ! — 
 The black smoke burns ! — Oh ! cruel sight ! — 
 Still Joan rests like one asleep, 
 While hissing fumes still nearer sweep. 
 
 Oh, Maiden ! — fairest of the fair ! — 
 What strength sustains thee calmly there, 
 While demon fires around thee swell, 
 More dreadful than the darts of hell ? 
 
 She moves ! — Her form grows red with heat ! — 
 The flames dash near, and then retreat ! — 
 The dry wood snaps ! — The mad winds blow ! — 
 The fi'ry darts shoot to and fro ! — 
 
 But, see !— Oh, God !— Oh, Shield!— Oh, Shame !- 
 The demon tongue — the horrid flame 
 Is sweeping nearer ! — Higher ! — Higher ! ! — 
 Look ! — Her hair ! /—HER hair's on fire ! ! ! — 
 
 She deeply moans ! — Her bound limbs quake ! — 
 The hot chains clatter 'round the stake ! — 
 She gasps ! — Her bosom heaves ! — She cries, 
 " Oh^ God^ protect fair Fratice! " — and DIES ! ! — 
 
 The sick'ning fumes of burning flesh 
 Now fill the air, and faggots fresh 
 Are madly hurled by demon hands, 
 While devils stir the smold'ring brands ! 
 
 34 
 
The charred flesh fries ! — The seared eyes stare !- 
 The bare teeth grin ! — That form once fair 
 Now black — a hideous human coal, 
 From which I turn with saddened soul. 
 
 But this dark spot, by centuries trod, 
 Still bears the blighted curse of God ; 
 For never since the world began^ 
 Was baser deed conceived by man! 
 
 Brave martyr to a work divine, 
 Thou art the world's own heroine ; 
 This day the world thy name reveres. 
 And glad would wash this spot with tears. 
 
 I bow in reverence to thy name, 
 And weep to paint this living shame ; 
 But, fairest flower to France e'er giv'n, 
 Thou art fair France's Queen in Heav'n. 
 
 As then by angel's voices led. 
 Thou leadest now — thou art not deadi! — 
 More potent are the powers unseen, 
 Than flesh veiled eyes can ever glean. 
 
 The grandest thoughts to mortals known. 
 Are echoes from the Spirit-throne : — 
 First sung in heaven swelled freedom's chants] — 
 "y4 bas les iyrans ! — Vtve La France! P'' 
 
 35 
 
'*A\Y BLIND BROTHER." 
 
 HORACE was two years older than myself, 
 And he was totally blind — born blind, but yet 
 His acts were marvelous to see. 
 
 When ripened berries clung upon the stem, 
 He often wandered through the brier fields 
 Alone, and gathered fruit like child with eyes : — 
 With careful hand he felt along the bush, 
 And pressed each berry with a gentle touch. 
 And thus the soft and ripened ones he found ; 
 And while the thorns did prick his hands, 
 Yet, ceased he not his labors, hour by hour, 
 Until his little bucket he had filled. 
 And every berry in the lot was ripe. 
 Though scarred his hands, and pierced his shoeless feet, 
 Yet, murmured he no word, for proud was he — 
 So proud he quite forgot the pains he bore. 
 And could not see the blood that stained the floor. 
 
 And once upon a time — I'll ne'er forget, — 
 
 'Twas when the July sun began to paint 
 
 The red stripes on the summer ripening fruit. 
 
 That Hora wandered to the orchard grove. 
 
 And 'neath the •' Early tree," he crept around 
 
 And 'round, searching amidst the tangled grass. 
 
 In hopes to find a mellow " Golden Sweet," 
 
 And bear it to our mother, ill in bed. 
 
 36 
 
He called to me ; — I went, and in the tree, 
 
 Upon the very topmost limb, I saw 
 
 A ripened apple, beautiful and large. 
 
 " Let me go up and get it for poor Ma," 
 
 Said he, and up the tree he quickly climbed. 
 
 How carefully he moves lest he should jar 
 
 The precious treasure from the bending sprig : — 
 
 With steady hand in darkness reached he forth : — 
 
 "A little to the left, Hora," said I, 
 
 " You've reached the spot — a little higher up — 
 
 There ! there !'' — His fingers touch the golden fruit ; 
 
 He grasped it, smiled, and from his sightless eyes, 
 
 A-down his cheeks the tears of gladness flows. 
 
 He quick descends, and, hand in hand, we ran 
 
 To bear the treasure to our poor sick Ma. 
 
 A rough, crude cooper meets us on the way, 
 And Hora showed to him the precious fruit ; 
 Then like a brute he stood and ate it down, 
 And gave to Hora nothing but the core. 
 The poor boy wept ; while I, in anger, stoned 
 The greedy monster o'er the orchard fence. 
 
 And now, since four and forty years'have passed, 
 And Brother long has gone to peaceful rest. 
 And gray hairs gather fast upon my brow, 
 I look a-back the rugged path I've trod ; 
 And, like Blind Hora — my hands outstretched 
 In darkness dense — groping for the unseen ; 
 
 37 
 
And when I've plucked rich fruit from thorny bush, 
 
 And borne it in my scarred and bleeding hands, 
 
 I have forgot the labor it had cost — 
 
 The pains I bore beneath the scorching sun, 
 
 When I beheld by little ones partake, 
 
 And saw the comfort that it brought to them. 
 
 But like the fate of Hora's " Golden Sweet," 
 When I have mounted to the topmost branch 
 Of virgin trees, and gathered hidden fruit — 
 (No other eyes had e'er before beheld), 
 And brought my treasures safely to the earth, 
 Then selfish souls received them from my hands, 
 And greedily have grasped and gulped them down, 
 Giving to me naught but the rinds and cores. 
 
 But still I do not grieve ; — I have enough 
 To shelter me and mine from starving want ; 
 If not, I have an honest, brawny hand. 
 And so I am content and seek no more. 
 
 A little while, and those who me have wronged, 
 Will lie within their little narrow graves, 
 All that they are, and were, and are to be. 
 I stand as one upon the mountain's top, 
 And down upon them look with piteous scorn. 
 Knowing full well they thrive but for a day ; 
 And like the leaf that falls on ocean's wave, 
 Will leave their mark behind : — so let them pass ! 
 Their lot be their's ! — But as for me, I know — 
 
 38 
 
(And speak I not with vain or boastful pride), 
 A little scroll upon time's page I'll leave ; — 
 Not deeply wrought, but deep enough to mark 
 For some few scores of years to come and go, 
 That once I lived — and lived not all for self. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 I T OPE casts a brightness o'er our path, 
 -■■ ■■■ And often stays the trembling staff; 
 She blossoms in the youthful mind, 
 And cheers the aged and the blind. 
 
 While sailing on life's ocean tide, 
 Her gleaming star may ever guide ; 
 The voice of prayer applies the oar, 
 While faith beholds the distant shore. 
 
 I will not lay my anchor down. 
 For Christ has promised me a crown, 
 In that bright land of endless day, 
 If I but " work and watch and pray." 
 
 Ah ! Hope, but let thy wings be shorn, 
 Then life is but an empty dream — 
 A sprig upon the billows borne — 
 A straw that drifts a-down the stream. 
 39 
 
SCENES BY HER GATE. 
 
 I'VE passed by her gate in the stillness of night, 
 When the stars were all shining above, 
 And oft caught a glimpse, (by the moon's mellow light), 
 
 Of her fair face all beaming with love. 
 She waitied the moment her lover would come. 
 
 And dreamed of joys the future would give; 
 She thought not of sorrow, of death, nor of Rum, 
 That might make her life a burden to live. 
 
 I saw her again when the nuptial ties. 
 
 Had united the two souls in one. 
 And beheld the sweet joy that beamed from her eyes. 
 
 When the new wedded life first begun : — 
 But, later and later, she stood by the gate. 
 
 And her bosom would heave a deep sigh, 
 And oft times she rAurmured,*'What makes him so late?" 
 
 And I saw a tear gleam in her eye. 
 
 Three years had quick passed when I saw her again. 
 
 With her raiment all tattered and worn, 
 And around her fair neck, instead of a chain. 
 
 Clung a babe, which the mother had borne : — 
 Her eyes were now sad, and her hair lined with gray, 
 
 And the hopes of her girlhood had flown ; 
 For the demon. Drink, stole her husband away. 
 
 And she's left with her child all alone. 
 
 40 
 
CONriDENCE. 
 
 WHEN a laddie spies his lassie 
 Down the green meadow, 
 And the laddie loves the lassie, 
 Can't the laddie go ? 
 
 Can't the laddie and the lassie 
 Wade along the run, 
 To gather shells and bright blue bells, 
 Glit'ring in the sun? 
 
 When the laddie leads the lassie 
 In the waters deep, 
 And the laddie holds the lassie. 
 Need their mothers peep ? 
 
 Warm the waters, soft the waters. 
 Laughing in the breeze, 
 When the wavelets dance and frolic 
 'Round the lassie's knees. 
 
 Mirthful waters, cunning waters — 
 Wavelet never tells. 
 How it loved to kiss the lassie. 
 When she gathered shells. 
 
 41 
 
ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 HO ! Bobbie Burns ! the world admires you — 
 Thou art a jolly fellow, "Bob," 'tis true — 
 And people will a jolly fellow court, 
 If he but puts a bit of sense in sport. 
 
 And thou, good Robert, hath done this thing well, 
 For thou hast laughed when in a laughing spell. 
 And when the sage wished some profounder things, 
 Thy fingers stirred the deeper, graver strings. 
 
 And when thou would'st the merry heart entrance, 
 Thou did's strke the note, and all th' maidens dance. 
 And yet, with all, thou did'st feel a Father's love, 
 And in thy higher moments looked above. 
 
 And so, hast thou touched every human heart, 
 And well, good Robert, hast thou done thy part : — 
 Some Bards, 'tis true, have reached a greater fame, 
 But none have left a more endearing name. 
 
 ON THE SHORE. 
 
 P AITH looks forth with crystal lens ; 
 -'- Hope nerves the soul to stem the tide ; 
 Love turns to country, home and friends ; 
 Prayers rise to God to keep and guide. 
 42 
 
GARriELD, OUR DEAD PRESIDENT. 
 
 (an acrostic.) 
 Guided in life by a noble ambition, 
 Ascended our hero the ladder of fame ; 
 Rising at length to the head of the Nation ; 
 Furrowing on History's tablet a name. 
 In the zenith of greatness and honor he fell — 
 Example of manhood for us thou hast bled ! 
 Low, through the deep darkness a slow measured knell, 
 Declares the sad tidings, our Chieftain is dead ! 
 
 Oh, God ! we can only submit to thy will ! 
 Unwelcome these chimes, how they thrill,how they chill! 
 Ring softly, oh, Sexton ! those bells on the hill. 
 
 Death gains no victory over the just, 
 Earth only claims earth, and dust only dust ; 
 A life of good acts, e'er lives in the breeze, 
 Diflfused o'er the land and bound not by seas. 
 
 Prayers have ascended to God o'er thy grave — 
 
 Requiems of sorrow — bitter tears have been shed ; 
 
 Every native born freeman and unshackled slave 
 
 Suffer deep anguish to know thou art dead. 
 
 In truth has the heart of the whole nation bled. 
 
 Death hath not robbed us of all thou hast giv'n ; 
 
 Even clouds cannot shut out the light of the day : — 
 
 Now while thy spirit is resting in heaven, 
 
 The light of thy life-work illumines our way. 
 
 43 
 
COSMOS. 
 
 LIVE, I move, I strive in vain, 
 My inner self to know ; 
 I cannot tell from whence I came, 
 Or whither I shall go. 
 
 The combined wisdom of the great, 
 
 Cannot produce a rose, 
 Nor, yet, a blade of grass create. 
 
 Or tell me why it grows. 
 
 The ant who builds his little mound, 
 
 And gathers in his store. 
 Knows just as much where God is found, 
 
 As men of learned lore. 
 
 How vain 'tis then to think to know, 
 
 Or reach by boundless leap, 
 This God, while yet his works below, 
 
 Are wrapped in myst'ries deep ! 
 
 Go measure drop by drop the sea ; 
 
 Count each grain on the shore ; 
 Imagine each a world to be. 
 
 Yet worlds in space are more. 
 
 Our mortal vision may behold. 
 
 The stars that deck the sky ; 
 
 But, still, beyond glow suns untold, 
 
 Unseen by human eye. 
 44 
 
I scarce unfold one truth before 
 
 A hundred myst'ries rise ; 
 And when I've learned these hundred more, 
 
 Ten thousand greet mine eyes. 
 
 If I could grasp, in one great thought, 
 
 All things revealed to man, 
 Still, I should feel, I knew but naught, 
 
 Of God's creative plan. 
 
 The more I learn — the less I know, 
 And when I see — I'm blind ; — 
 
 As I advance — I farther grow 
 From the Omniscient mind. 
 
 When Vast Creation's depths I scan. 
 
 Still Vaster is the deep ! — 
 Oh ! Vortex of this mighty plan, 
 
 Thy secrets God doth keep ! 
 
 Around the central source of light 
 
 The Universe of worlds. 
 With magic force, unmeasured flight. 
 
 And mighty impulse whirls. 
 
 And thus 'twill be — let Ages roll ! — 
 
 Let Cycles come and go ! — 
 Man may approach this Awful Soul, 
 
 But never God can know. 
 45 
 
SUSIE AND 1. 
 
 FULL forty years have passed away, 
 Since Susie Jones, my love and I, 
 Around the barn-yard used to play, 
 And ramble through the growing rye. 
 
 I loved, my love — I loved her true — 
 I loved her dimpled cheeks, so fair, 
 
 I loved her eyes, so bright and blue, 
 I loved her wavy, golden hair. 
 
 We hunted eggs at noon and night, 
 We chased the geese and setting hen, 
 
 And when a gander showed us fight, 
 I bravely fought for Susie then. 
 
 The turkey gobbler seemed to hate 
 My Susie's hood, so bright and red ; 
 
 And just beyond the barn-yard gate, 
 I've fought for her — for her I've bled. 
 
 We drove the cows home from the wood, 
 We clung to " Spot's'' burr-covered tail; 
 
 While Susie swung her bright, red hood, 
 I pounded on the old milk pail. 
 
 We waded in the pond and brook, 
 We fished along the river bank ; 
 
 I baited Susie's bright pin hook. 
 And helped her walk the slipp'ry plank. 
 46 
 
And then we sat beneath the shade, 
 And watched the sunset on the hill, 
 
 Until we saw the shadows fade. 
 And oft we longed to linger still. 
 
 My Susie's gone ! I know not where. 
 But longer have life's shadows grown ; 
 
 Life's sun is setting over there, 
 And soon the grave will claim its own. 
 
 But, as the sunlight fades away, 
 And darkness gathers o'er the hill, 
 
 I find my love of childhood's day. 
 
 Is ling'ring 'round the old heart still. 
 
 Lire IS A WAVE. 
 
 1 STOOD on the beach when the great rolling waves 
 Dashed upward, and all seemed majestic and free 
 But I said, in my soul, they are only the slaves 
 Of the winds that are blowing over the lee : — 
 As they tumble along they rise and they fall. 
 And spit out their foam as wave beats against wave ; 
 But the great, gaping ocean soon swallows up all, 
 And this is but life from cradle to grave. 
 
 47 
 
TLEETING THOUGTS. 
 
 SOMETIMES I have such pretty thoughts 
 Sweet songlets on the wing — 
 If I could cage them I'd have lots 
 Of pretty songs to sing. 
 
 From whence they come, or where they go, 
 
 I'm sure I cannot say ; 
 They simply whisper sweet and low, 
 
 Then, oflf, they fly away. 
 
 Strange I can't hear them warbling now ; 
 
 Why are mine ears so dull ? 
 Oh, come, sweet birds, and fan my brow. 
 
 Then wake the vacant lull. 
 
 The hours have past, the clock strikes three, 
 
 I've named them one and all ; 
 I fear they have forsaken me. 
 
 They answer not my call. 
 
 Oh, could I stir some sleeping dove. 
 
 When he began to coo. 
 Then would I write his tale of love — 
 
 To mated one e'er true. 
 
 Alas ! the merry singers rest ; 
 
 The owl broods on the hill, 
 The dove sleeps in her sheltered nest, 
 
 The nightingale is still. 
 
 48 
 
And thus I sing no songs tonight, 
 Nor hoot some doleful rhymes ; 
 Without my birds I cannot write, 
 Except in discord chimes. 
 
 AT THE GRAVE OE A BROTHER SOLDIER. 
 
 THY soul is now at rest, 
 In peace with God ; 
 Thy frame beneath the crest 
 Of earthly sod. 
 
 No bugle note or drum. 
 
 No cannon's roar, 
 Can call thee from thy home — 
 
 Thy warfare's o'er. 
 
 The pines now stately grow 
 
 Above thee high — 
 Soon God alone will know 
 
 Where thou dost lie. 
 
 A Mother's heart still weeps 
 
 Her unforgot. 
 But here he calmly sleeps — 
 
 Disturb him not. 
 4 49 
 
LORD'S DAY. 
 
 P RAISE God for this, His Day of Rest ! 
 * Praise Him that He hath called it blessed I 
 Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts ! 
 Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost ! 
 
 Let Fathers lift their voice above ! 
 Let Mothers sing a song of love ! 
 Let Children join the sacred lay ! 
 And thus begin God's holy day. 
 
 Ye, who have labored six long days, 
 Lift up your voices ! Sing God,s praise ! 
 Praise Him, ye lowly — praise, ye high ! 
 Praise while the sacred moments fly ! 
 
 Let oceans tremble in their beds ! 
 Let lofty mountains bow their heads ! 
 For God is deeper than the deeps. 
 And higher than the highest steeps. 
 
 Awake ! ye slumb'ring, silent hills ! 
 Awake ! ye springs and sparkling rills ! 
 Let all the earth with anthems sing 
 The praises of our God and King ! 
 
 And when the glowing sun has gone. 
 And shades of darkness gather on. 
 Still let our voices Praise and Pray, 
 And thus complete God's Holy Day. 
 
 50 
 
T 
 
 THE RESTLESS AYSTERY. 
 
 HERE is some Strange Myst'ry unfolding on high, 
 I am sure that there is, for I feel it so plain ; 
 I hear secret whispering 'way up in the sky, 
 And the Vault seems struggling to open again. 
 
 There are some Great Doings going on down in Hell, 
 The smoke of their furnace hath blackened the night; 
 
 How strangely these rumblings come up with a swell, 
 Like marshaling armies all ready for fight. 
 
 There is some Dark Spirit that creeps in the air. 
 And it mutters and peeps, but shows not its face ; 
 
 I feel its great wings on the breeze ever^^where, 
 But I cannot tell whither its hiding place. 
 
 There's some mighty Something that broods just above 
 As watchful as Time and as silent as Death ; 
 
 And it breathes on my soul the spirit of Love, 
 
 Yet something Majestic seems borne on the Breath* 
 
 What mean these strange feelings that over me creep,. 
 These mystic-winged Myst'ries that hover so nigh ? 
 
 It is some great Something that moves in the Deep,. 
 And soon it will burst through the dark, dripping 
 sky. 
 
 51 
 
HARROW ON THE HILL. 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE OLD CHURCH YA.RD, THE RETREAT OF 
 liORD BYRON. 
 
 ^ ^ A GAIN I behold where the hours I have ponder'd 
 
 ^'*- As reclining at eve on yon tombstone I lay ; 
 Or 'round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd 
 To catch the last glimpse of the sun-setting ray." 
 
 — Byron. 
 
 I sit by the tomb where young Byron did rest, 
 Enraptured by beauties that spread to the view ; 
 
 Like him, I now look on the sun, in the west. 
 
 To catch the last glimmer that fades from the blue. 
 
 And *' 'round the steep brow of the Churchyard I've wan- 
 dered," 
 
 And walked o'er the green fields, where Byron did play, 
 And over the graves of the dead, I have ponder'd. 
 
 And thought, Oh ! how soon we must all pass away. 
 
 And, while I here sit, by the side of the tomb. 
 
 Beneath the great "elm tree," whose limbs overspread, 
 
 I feel this spot sacred, my soul fills with gloom — 
 I hear the low whisp'ring from those of the dead. 
 
 This spot, is by Nature, the Poet's retreat, 
 Clothed in a soft, velvety blanket of green. 
 
 And fringed by the hills in the distance that meet. 
 Adorned by the deep, spreading valleys between. 
 
 52 
 
The rustic old Church, with its rude oaken door, 
 The roses that bloom, and their fragrance diffuse, 
 
 The graves of the dead, with the vines creeping o'er. 
 Make this sacred hill top the home of the Muse. 
 
 The musical rapture and poetic fire 
 
 In young Byron's bosom that would not be still ; — 
 The vibrating strings of his sweetly tuned lyre. 
 
 Were strung by the Muses that dwell on this hill. 
 
 'Twas here that he wrote, " It were sweeter to die, 
 If here might I sleep, where my hopes all arose ; 
 
 With this fondest dream, it were peaceful to lie 
 By the scenes of my youth, my couch of repose. 
 
 " Mixed with the earth, o'er which my footsteps moved 
 Pressed by the turf, where once my childhood played. 
 
 Wrapt by the soil, that veils the spot I so loved. 
 Forever to rest 'neath this mantling shade." 
 
 The scenes have quite changed, since thou left this dear 
 spot, 
 The " elm tree's " broad limbs more majestic'ly 
 spread ; 
 The crumbling slabs lean— by the living forgot, 
 The turf has grown thick on fresh graves of thy dead. 
 
 The low, lying " tomb-stone," where thou oft reposed. 
 
 And " pondered," while night shades chased westward 
 the day, 
 Is now in an iron cage strongly enclosed, 
 
 To keep fond admirers from chipping it 'way. 
 
 53 
 
The herds still linger by the deep, shady rills, 
 
 The meadows still green, as when thou did'st behold, 
 
 The hedges still stretch to the blue, distant hills. 
 And ripened grain waves in its mantel of gold. 
 
 But the steel-lined highways, and serpent like trains — 
 The great iron horse, that goes thund'ring on ; — 
 
 The smoke from his nostrils, that spreads o'er the plains, 
 Are scenes in the Landscape, since Byron has gone. 
 
 Hark, to the clatter of the galloping steed ! — 
 
 How quickly he speeds 'round the hills and away ! — 
 
 The great, busy world, of its dead, have no need. 
 And all but the great are forgot in a day ! 
 
 How swiftly the moments go flashing along ; 
 
 The years, like the moments, how rapidly fled ; — 
 Our Poet had only half sung his sweet song. 
 
 Until he was numbered with those of the dead. 
 
 And now while I sit in the fading twilight, 
 The valley seems wrapt in a mantel of gloom ; 
 
 The grass has grown dark, with the shades of the night ; 
 Night's veil has more deeply enshrouded the tomb. 
 
 Oh, the grave ! Oh, the grave ! how soon it must claim 
 This body that now moves in manhood's estate. 
 
 And with it will perish forever my name^ 
 
 But Byron will live with the honored and great. 
 
 54 
 
LirE. 
 
 THERE is a destiny that rules mankind, 
 And in the aggregate, " What is, is Right ; " 
 The darkness which be-clouds the human mind 
 
 Is mingled with sufficiency of light 
 To indicate an ever glowing sun, 
 
 That shines unceasing as the ages roll, 
 And bursting through the dark clouds, one by one, 
 Illuminates the Universal Whole. 
 
 The Mystery of God's Creative plan 
 
 We can but dimly see or comprehend, 
 Whence 'tis the superficial mind of man, 
 
 Doth not with God's Omniscient Essence blend ; 
 But fails to grasp complete the hidden cause, 
 
 Or realize that raging Chaos filled 
 Eternity, when God, by Nature's Laws 
 
 Began a Universe of worlds to build. 
 
 Upon the spotted, flaming heavens whirled 
 The myriads of eddy'ng seas sublime, 
 
 Each nucleus to be a Sun or World, 
 
 A-down the mighty stretch of coming time. 
 
 God's spirit moved upon the awful flame ; 
 
 And Worlds congealed — the fires burned dim 
 
 apace; — 
 The thunders ceased — the howling winds grew 
 
 tame ; — 
 The hills appeared, and oceans sought their place. 
 
 55 
 
Yet, countless Ages span the wide abyss 
 
 E'er one completed World had cooled its crest — 
 B'er falling torrents ceased to boil and hiss 
 
 Upon the molten crust and heaving breast ; 
 And thus the wicked, warring, maddened Earth, 
 
 And all the glittering stars high Heaven fill, 
 Amidst the raging elements had birth. 
 
 And untamed forces rage within them still. 
 
 The blades of grass, the rose, the forest tree ; 
 
 The beasts that roam the woods ; the birds in air ; 
 The crawling worm ; the fish that swim the sea, 
 
 And everything of life, both foul and fair, 
 Hath had its purpose in the ages past, 
 
 As instruments in God's most wondrous plan, 
 To generate a Spirit Sphere at last. 
 
 From which to draw the spirit food of man. 
 
 In every blade of grass, or tree, or rose. 
 
 Or lower creature of the land and skies ; 
 God made an inner spirit life that glows. 
 
 But for a time — then etern'ly it dies. 
 But through this life and death, the Spirit Zone 
 
 Grows rich in Vital Force — thus forms the base — 
 Creates conditions, whereby God alone 
 
 Could build a higher soul enduring race. 
 
 56 
 
For man is but a creature of this earth, 
 
 In spirit and in form, the aggregate 
 Of every living thing since Time had birth — 
 
 The culminating arch — The Ultimate. 
 God robbeth not himself to make a man. 
 
 But grinds him from the rocks in powder fine — 
 Sows him upon the fields while ages span. 
 
 And gathers him at last a Soul Divine. 
 
 Still, everything in life is born with greed ; 
 
 The larger fishes live upon their kind ; 
 The shooting plant devours the parent seed. 
 
 And so through all the forms of life, we find 
 That living entities but die to give 
 
 Subsistence to some other living thing. 
 While thus upon each other creatures live, 
 
 Bach Death but swells Life's ever running spring. 
 
 Thus, Life devoureth Life, still Life entails ; 
 
 By Life and death the earth breaths out her Life; 
 By Life and death a higher Life prevails. 
 
 As harmonies absorb contending strife : 
 And ever since the sparkling dew drops fell 
 
 On Eden's shades, this earth one course has kept — 
 Right onward, and right upward, and right well 
 
 She's moved, and not one retrogressive step. 
 
 57 
 
Still, those there are who think because they bear 
 
 A human form, that therefore, they must be 
 So far above the beast, or birds of air. 
 
 That they shall live to all Eternity ; 
 For such a doctrine we are often taught — 
 
 But it is false — there's not one feeble ray 
 To show that man, or beast, or bird, or aught 
 
 Of earth, was born to live eternally. 
 
 Nor is there aught to prove that human mind 
 
 Is higher than the minds of things below : 
 It dififers in degree but not in kind. 
 
 For each from common cause and fountain flow. 
 And from this fact divide contending Schools ; 
 
 For none have grasped aright the hidden plan : 
 The bigot thinks the learn'd men all are fools — 
 
 Some learn'd men think that death doth end the 
 man. 
 
 And here the men of Science might well pause — 
 
 Here, Doctors of Divinity reflect ; — 
 For here they both may find the hidden cause 
 
 That separates and forms each narrow sect. 
 Let all admit Imperfect Souls will die ; 
 
 That Law-abiding souls will live, agree; 
 Let Nature's Law point out the reason why, 
 
 And we have bridged the separating sea. 
 58 
 
Cod's Statutory Voice doth first entreat ; 
 
 If not obeyed it sends the Chastening Fire ; 
 At first with gentle glow, then flaming heat 
 
 Consumes ! — and disobedient souls expire ! — 
 When spirits in the flesh, or out, rebel 
 
 Against the laws that formed them, they must die ! 
 This law is burned upon the walls of hell, 
 
 And traced eternal in the vaulted sky. 
 
 But souls there are within a higher sphere — 
 
 The "Finished Arch," witb keystone well set in ; 
 And though, not perfect, yet they reach so near 
 
 Obed'ence to all laws — so free from sin, 
 That they, in earth and spirit life, ascend 
 
 Toward God, and daily by accretion grow 
 More God-like, and from natural causes blend 
 
 With higher life, which from the heavens flow. 
 
 And here the separating gulf grows wide ; 
 
 Upon the right, the heirs of higher life ; 
 The heirs of death upon the other side ; 
 
 And thus doth end this life's tempestuous strife. 
 A perfect soul is made, progressive, free. 
 
 Unfolding as the Universe shall run 
 Her Cycle, which we call Eternity — 
 
 But lost at last in God, the All in One. 
 
 •59 
 
When breathless worlds have given out their force, 
 
 And suns exhausted cease to shed their light ; — 
 When dead stars wander in their dreary course 
 
 Through frigid regions of unending night ; 
 Then world will clash with world, then sun with sun ; 
 
 And through the Universe again will spread 
 That awful flame — A Cycle new begun — 
 
 The living resurrected from the dead. 
 
 God's spirit mingling in the raging fire. 
 
 Instinctive Life is thus to atoms given ; 
 Impregnated by Him they but require 
 
 Conditions, whence they build the souls for heav'n: 
 So, God is Life, and all of Life is God ! 
 
 His spirit slumbers in the silent hills ; 
 Quiescent in each drop of waters broad — 
 
 Aye, all the Universe of space it fills ! 
 
 Earth, broods her Spirit from the Grass and Trees ; 
 
 She drinks it from the Stars and blazing Sun ; — 
 Distils it from the Rocks — the Air — the Seas ; — 
 
 And when her wondrous work is thus begun. 
 She feeds, alike, the Birds, and Beasts, and Man : — 
 
 So, Carnal Spirits, formed in sin and strife. 
 Must each be " Born of God " — in God's great plan, 
 
 Ere they can hope to gain Eternal Life. 
 
 60 
 
DISINTEGRATING SOULS. 
 
 THE Voice of stern old Nature doth intrude, 
 Though heard not by the heedless multitude ; 
 Yet, every spirit born of God doth hear, 
 Obey, rejoice in Christ, and banish fear. 
 This Voice is but the call of Nature's laws, 
 That govern things of being — not the cause ; 
 But though the thunders quake and oceans roar, 
 And madden'd waves beat hard upon the shore, 
 Yet, still the soul-dead ears will never hear. 
 Or, yet, the rocky hearts the dark waves fear ; 
 Until an earthquake rends the mountain's base. 
 And towering peaks plunge headlong from their place ; 
 And broken into scattered fragments each. 
 Are ground to atoms on the shifting beach. 
 
 The heedless Hills lift up their heads in pride, 
 
 But low beneath, the ever active tide 
 
 Digs caverns, deep, until the teethy base 
 
 Doth grin, as brazen as the Devil's face : 
 
 The tumbling earth and shattered, mingling mass, 
 
 Is washed upon the lea and feeds the grass ; 
 
 When soon but reefs of barren rocks remain. 
 
 Which frosts do bite, devour, and bite again. 
 
 Until the Ocean peaceful slumbers there : — 
 
 Oh, Hills, proud Hills ! Where have ye gone ? Oh ! 
 
 Where ? 
 Our voice is lost upon the silent waves. 
 And there's no echo from the sea washed-graves. 
 
 61 
 
THE PRODIGAL'S PRAYER. 
 PATHER, hear thou my prayer ! 
 ■■■ Give ear to my inward pleading, 
 For my soul is bleeding, 
 And there is no solace anywhere ! 
 My spirit droopeth like a withered leaf — 
 Like a dry leaf so is my grief: — 
 Oh ! Father, come to my relief! 
 
 Like the dews that fall 
 Upon the drooping flower, 
 And Lo ! it springeth into life, 
 So let thy power quicken me ! 
 Lift thou up my soul — cleanse me from all sin — 
 Make my heart as an open door 
 To let the King of Glory in ! 
 
 My faith is as a reed shaken by the wind, 
 Like the moon it doth wax and wane ; 
 Like the tide it doth find no resting place — 
 Oh ! Father, send thy strengthening Grace ! 
 
 My chain is broken and mine anchor lost at sea, 
 I must by faith alone rely on Thee — 
 Kind Father, guide — 
 Guide me to a smooth harbor where I may safe abide. 
 
 There is no safe foundation under me, 
 
 And the sea rolls high — 
 
 My limbs are a-weary — I sink — I die ! — 
 
 Reach forth Thy hand, kind Father — 
 
 Reach forth Thy hand !— 
 
 62 
 
The land is far away 
 And the day cometh not : — 
 In the darkness that overshadows me ; 
 In the waters that engulf me ; 
 In the sinking sand 
 Do I lift my right arm : — 
 Like blind man reach I forth — 
 Take thou my hand, kind Father — 
 Take thou my hand ! 
 
 RECIPROCITY. 
 
 IF I had not more light than of darkness to give, 
 More good than of evil to strew on my way, 
 I would pray to my God that I might never live 
 To look on the light of his radiant day. 
 
 For, why should men live when the shadows they cast 
 But darken the pathway of those whom they meet ? 
 
 It were better by far that their ill lives were passed, 
 Or they sought their abode in the devil's retreat. 
 
 Make me a bondsman, when I would do wrong ! — 
 Make me a freeman, when I would be just ! — 
 
 Let him only lead who is gallant and strong ! — 
 Let him only rule who is worthy of trust ! 
 
 63 
 
THE OLD BOOK. 
 
 ^ ^ O BAD to me, my child, from the old, Old Book, 
 
 A ^ For I am weary — hungry — sad — and grim 
 Darkness seems to gather o'er my soul — Look 
 
 For the marks I made ere mine eyes grew dim, 
 And ere I wandered far away from home — 
 
 That peaceful, quiet home the Old Book gave. 
 Before I laid it on the shelf to roam 
 
 In search of Light, 'til hope hath found a grave. 
 
 " Brush oflf the dust — clean up the leather well, 
 
 And let me feel the cover once again ! 
 The pleasure once it gave words cannot tell. 
 
 But now to feel its pages gives me pain." 
 She opened up the Book and softly read 
 
 Those precious promises by Jesus given ; 
 Her voice seemed as an echo from the dead — 
 
 Her Mother resting peacefully in heaven. 
 
 " There, there, thou hast read quite enough, my dear, 
 
 Just place the good Old Book upon the stand." 
 And Grandpa wiped away a falling tear. 
 
 And pressed the pages with his quivering hand. 
 " To-morrow thou shalt read to me once more, 
 
 That which my soul is now too full to bear ; 
 For, oh ! how rich the treasures of this Store, 
 
 How bright the Promises of Jesus are !" 
 
 64 
 
VOTE AS YOU PRAY. 
 
 I'VE seen devout Christians in humbleness bend, 
 Imploring God that His Kingdom might come — 
 In deep, solemn accents invoke Him to send 
 
 Some power to stay the " Death March of Rum ;" 
 And while they thus prayed, the angels of heav'n 
 
 Seemed hov'ring around to point out the way: 
 To tell them God's Spirit comes only to leav'n — 
 To wipe out the Evil — Vote as you Pray ! 
 
 I have seen a fond Father, aged and gray. 
 
 In daily devotion pray God to save 
 His once noble boy whom Rum led astray. 
 
 Who was sinking down to a drunkard's grave. 
 And the while he thus prayed, there knelt by his side, 
 
 A Wife and Mother, whose soul seemed to say, 
 " My dear, there is one thing you never have tried. 
 
 Add Works to your Prayers, and Vote as you Pray." 
 
 I've seen a fair flower from mansions of wealth 
 
 United to one whom this Demon controlled. 
 Soon robbed of her home, of her friends, and of health. 
 
 Heart-broken, wretched — turned out in the cold. 
 Deep down in her heart I have thought there must lurk 
 
 One unexpressed voice, repeating the lay — 
 " These Christians pretend to be doing God's work, 
 
 But Christians^ in truths should Vote as they Pray.'''' 
 
 5 65 
 
THE BATTLE OE A\OUSE AND ELEPHANT. 
 
 AN Elephant went out to fight, 
 The bravest beast that prowls the night, 
 And blew his trunk with such a force 
 He made the hills and valleys hoarse. 
 
 Then "all the beasts in vast array 
 Went out to fight, or see the fray, 
 And all with one accord agree. 
 No beast could cope with such as he. 
 
 A little mouse peeped from his hole, 
 And fiercely cried, " Upon my soul, 
 I'll fight the beast in open field. 
 And kill the monster, ere I yield !" 
 
 " You kill me ?" The mammoth cried, 
 " You scarce could scratch my great, tough hide ;. 
 I'll blow you off, you grain of chaff!" — 
 Then all the beasts began to laugh. 
 
 " Just blow," the little mousie said. 
 And up he popped his saucy head ; 
 
 " You are quite large, it is quite true, 
 But I'm more active, sir, than you." 
 
 Then out the little mousie ran ; 
 To kill the beast he had a plan. 
 The monster blew a mighty blast. 
 But mousie to his leg held fast. 
 66 
 
Up, up, the great beast's side he sped — 
 Now down his back, next on his head ; 
 And soon beneath the great, broad ear 
 He hied away — and felt no fear. 
 
 And there intent to gnaw, began, 
 While blood adown the monster ran ; 
 And all the beasts beheld him bleed. 
 And laughed to hear him groan and plead. 
 
 But mousie gnawed and gnawed away, 
 And e'er the sun went down that day. 
 He killed the monster-bragging beast — 
 Then on his body all did feast. 
 
 MORAIv. 
 
 " The Battle is not to the Strong alone. 
 It is to the Active, the Brave, the Free :" 
 Our greatest powers are never known 
 Until we meet an Emergency. 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 I SEEK not to write in Rhetorical vein, 
 But simply unfold some common place thought, 
 Such thought may leave its imprint on the brain,^ 
 While elegant diction might soon be forgot* 
 
 To read what one writes, there is scarce any use,, 
 Unless we can tell what the writer would say ; 
 
 One may be so grand that he grows quite obtuse,. 
 And the reader is lost in the mist and the spray. 
 
 67 
 
A CURSED liOA\E. 
 
 COI/DLY, damply, drifts the snows, 
 In tlie drunkard's door ; 
 Little children almost froze, 
 Sleeping on the floor. 
 
 Harry, Albert, Anna, May, 
 
 And the baby dead ; 
 All beneath one blanket lay, 
 
 In their cold, straw bed. 
 
 Mother gone, to ne'er return. 
 
 Sleeping 'neath the sod ; 
 Spirit flown where bright lamps burn, 
 
 In her home with God. 
 
 Oh ! the little souls to-night, 
 
 Shiv'ring 'neath the snow ; 
 May God's morrow give them light. 
 
 And some place to go. 
 
 nY DAILY PRAYER. 
 
 I MAKE one little prayer each day ; 
 The best prayer that I can ; 
 'Tis " Father! God ! make me, I pray, 
 A man — a perfect man." 
 
 68 
 
WHAT IS HOA\E? 
 
 , (a song.) 
 
 THE walls that confine with the old roof above, 
 Can never be Home with no sunbeams of love ; 
 In Mansions of Saphire 'neath pendents of gold, 
 There fond hearts may die, and aflfections grow cold. 
 
 A House is not Home, 'tis a place where we stay. 
 To shelter from storm, keep the cold winds away ; — 
 The heart finds its home in the bosom of love, 
 Where soul clings to soul like the loved ones above. 
 
 Home may be a Cabin with rude oaken door, — 
 
 A wide open chimney and uncovered floor, 
 
 Where th' great hickory back-log sends forth its bright 
 
 glow. 
 And the blazing wood laughs at the wind and the snow. 
 
 You'll find no such comfort wherever you roam, 
 lyike Love in a Cabin — Like Peace in a Home ; 
 There cheerful hearts mingle in each others care, 
 United and happy, all burdens to share. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then let us keep sacred that dear precious spot. 
 When troubles disturb us, let all be forgot ; 
 And let it be more than great walls and their dome, 
 O ! let it be peaceful ! — Yes, let it be Home ! 
 
 69 
 
THE BIRTH OP CHRIST. 
 
 THE stilly air was crisp on Bethlehem's plains ; 
 The vaulted blue encircled Judea 'round ; 
 The star-light gleamed upon the frosty hills ; 
 The midnight howl of wolf was no more heard ; 
 The owl sat silent o'er his feathered prey ; 
 The shepherd's dog breathed low in quiet rest ; 
 The flocks reposed beside the cliflf, and in 
 The listening air, expectant stillness reigned ! 
 
 The pensive Shepherds, clothed in fleecy robes — 
 
 The while — stood leaning on their crooks ; " When, lo ! 
 
 The Angel of the Lord upon them came :" 
 
 The glory of the Lord the dim light drank ; 
 
 The golden flame lit up the awful deep ; 
 
 The stars were quenched, as though a new-born sun, 
 
 The dome of God's Arched Firmament had burst, 
 
 Then all of Heaven's Gladness shone afar ! 
 
 The Shepherds sought retreat in fear, but turned 
 To hear the gladsome voice : " Fear not ! This day 
 To you the Christ is born ! " The hilltops bowed ! 
 The valleys sang ! The living waters flowed ! 
 The mountains quaked ! The slumbering rocks awoke ! 
 Then from the flaming arch above, voiced forth 
 
 70 
 
The raptured multitude of heavenly hosts, 
 That grandest message ever sent from heaven — 
 " Glory to God in the highest, 
 And on earth peace — good will toward men ! " 
 
 " Glory ! Glory to God ! " high harped the hills ! 
 ' Blessed be the New Born Babe !" low voiced the plains ! 
 *' Hosannah to our King ! " deep bassed the seas ! 
 Then upward — upward — heavenward winged the Hosts ; 
 Fainter — fainter ; sweeter, sweeter the song : — 
 *' Glory to God !— Glory !— Glory !— Glory !"— 
 Until the lingering echo died away 
 In raptured music waves upon the soul, 
 Then stillness reigned again profoundly deep ! 
 
 Back through the heavens flowed the fading light ; 
 The rended Vault between the God in heaven, 
 And God on earth, unite, and stars spring forth, 
 And Constellations gleam, and dance with joy 
 Upon the Blue, until the morning sun, 
 Rising in grandeur, buries the last night 
 Of a completed Time, and casts his beams 
 Upon the Child of God — the Son of Man ; 
 A new born Age of Light and Love begun. 
 
 71 
 
THE STORY Or HIS LirC. 
 
 THE Shepherds leave their flocks and haste away, 
 Over the star-lit hills to Bethlehem ; 
 When, Lo ! their eyes behold the Promised Child, 
 There in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes ; 
 And the deep breathing of the tired ox, 
 The restless moving of the huddling swine, 
 And the coarse braying of the hungry beasts. 
 Mingle with the cry of the New Born Babe. 
 
 Thus lowly was the birth of Him whom God 
 
 Ere earthly life began, did foreordain 
 
 To be His Messenger — His chosen Vine, 
 
 To bear the Fruits of Holiness Divine. 
 
 Could He have had a more ignoble birth 
 
 Than that the grunting swine and braying beasts 
 
 Should shake the couch on which He first saw light, 
 
 And thus awake His soul to conscious life ? 
 
 A Star arose — a bright mysterious Star — 
 A Lamp within the hands of angels held. 
 That guides the Wise Men, from the far off East, 
 To Bethlehem — to Mary and to Christ — 
 On whom they shower gifts, and then return 
 Another way, lest Herod should destroy 
 That Budding Plant, that future Hope and Joy — 
 That Messenger of Holiness and Love. 
 
 72 
 
And God did bless His Son, and He waxed strong 
 In body, and in wisdom, and in grace, 
 Until he stood before the great and learned. 
 While yet a stripling lad, and taught them Love — 
 A lesson which God planted in His heart — 
 The guiding light to all His works below ; 
 And then, for many years. He walked with God 
 Alone, till God built up His wondrous soul. 
 
 With every member of a perfect man 
 
 Unfolded by the toil and cares of life, 
 
 And with an inner heaven-born spirit, ripe 
 
 From secret meditation. Love and Prayer, 
 
 And daily converse with the Angel Hosts, 
 
 He thus became a finished, perfect soul. 
 
 Crowned with that glory which the world knows not- 
 
 That strength which none but perfect souls can know. 
 
 And then the angel cried, " Gird up thy loins ! 
 We lead Thee forth to plant the fruitless fields. 
 And make the barren desert blossom as the rose ; 
 And gather Thee the first fruits of the Vine. 
 Behold, Blias hath o'ertaken Thee, 
 His voice is crying in the Wilderness : 
 The way is now prepared, come, follow me" — 
 Then Jesus bowed His head and followed on. 
 
 73 
 
Where ere the Spirit led, there Jesus trod — 
 Ev'n buried in cold Jordan's watery grave ; — 
 And then His work so long delayed began ; 
 And then the Keys of Heaven were given Him, 
 And he who holds the Keys of Hell bethought 
 To lead Him into sin, and thus secure 
 Eternal Majesty of power and rule ; 
 But Christ triumphant. Angels crown Him King. 
 
 And now, the first and only perfect man 
 
 The world has ever known, went forth to teach. 
 
 And show, by signs and wonders, yet unknown. 
 
 What powers reside within a soul divine ; 
 
 For Jesus was but God's completed man. 
 
 To which the human soul may yet attain, 
 
 Who feeds upon the bread of Truth and Love, 
 
 And walks, unsullied, through temptation's snares. 
 
 His voice was heard upon the mountain top. 
 Within the valleys, and by the seaside. 
 And in the homes of poverty and grief; 
 And all the burden of His song was Love. 
 He went about as one bowed down with grief. 
 And words fell from His lips like glistening gems, 
 Whose brilliancy the ages have not dimmed ; 
 Whose wisdom time but makes more manifest. 
 
 74 
 
When I behold Him groaning on the Cross, 
 And crying, " God forgive them, for they know 
 Not what they do," I feel that such a life 
 Was not completed by that Awful Death ; 
 And that the Story told of Him must be fulfilled ; 
 And so, I watch by night, and watch by day, 
 Impressed within my soul the time draws nigh, 
 When all shall see Him coming in the sky. 
 
 THE SPIRIT VOICE. 
 
 T 'VE proved one truth as years pass by- 
 A A truth which others may deny : — 
 That is, my every thought of worth. 
 Doth not within my brain have birth ; 
 It lives, an entity, somewhere — 
 I hear it whisp'ring in the air: — 
 It tells me ere my sorrows rise, 
 Or darkness gathers on life's skies ; 
 And, yet, before the clouds pass by, 
 It points me to the clear, blue sky : — 
 Oh ! faithless man ! — what can this be, 
 If not the voice of souls set free — 
 The proof of Immortality? 
 
 75 
 
REPLECTED SHADOWS. 
 
 T AM longing for something, I cannot tell what ; 
 ^ I am sad when I laugh, I cannot tell why ; 
 But, sometimes I think, my Father forgot 
 To wipe off the tears, when my Mother would cry. 
 
 For months before my infant life had birth 
 A tear drop ever glistened in the eyes 
 Of her who bore me — so my Grandma says. 
 Within her burdened heart she bore a grief 
 That gnawed both day and night upon her soul. 
 As, at her feet her Blind Boy ever crept. 
 Except when clinging on her weary breast ; 
 For serpent's gaze had blotted out his eyes 
 Bre he was born. 
 
 This was a sorrow deep. 
 But still she bore another sadder grief; 
 Her nature longed for sympathy and love — 
 For help in all her trials and distress ; 
 But then my Father — noble in his aims — 
 Broad in philosophy — just in his way, 
 But lacking in that higher virtue — Love, 
 Had read, John Murray, on an Endless Hell. 
 
 So horrid did this doctrine seem to him, 
 That he left home to preach a broader grace ; 
 And thus my Mother, with her little ones — 
 
 76 
 
A flock of four, and poor blind babe, alone 
 
 Were left ; and so she lived as months passed on ; 
 
 And so she strove with not a soul to help ; 
 
 And so her heart was heavy all the day ; 
 
 And so her reddened eyes were never dry. 
 
 And when the months had gone her babe was born. 
 
 But all the sadness she had known was deep 
 
 Engraved upon her infant's inner life, 
 
 So deep, that time, nor Nature's healing power 
 
 Has ne'er effaced it from his hungry heart. 
 
 There's naught that can fill up this aching void, 
 But love — unceasing love — devoted love. 
 That flows unbidden like the bubbling spring : — 
 Such love might still the longings of a heart 
 That throbbed with grief near fifty years ago. 
 And still keeps echoing down the throes of time ; 
 But, since I ne'er expect such blessed love. 
 The shadows of a Mother's burdened lot 
 Must linger with her boy until he dies: — 
 For, if there be one living soul on earth. 
 Who could appease this craving of the heart, 
 Between that one, and me there towers a wall, 
 And in the shadow of that wall I live. 
 And look with sadness on the checkered light. 
 That struggles through the never swinging gate. 
 
 77- 
 
THE A\YSTIC KEY. 
 
 1 HEARD a gentle tapping, 
 And a soft and mystic rapping 
 
 At my door : — 
 A constant tapping, tapping, 
 
 At my door; — 
 
 I've heard it times before ; 
 But silent I lay napping, 
 While the stranger ceased not rapping 
 
 Upon my chamber door — 
 I raised not from my napping. 
 
 And my gaping o'er and o'er, 
 But I wondered what was rapping 
 
 At the door. 
 
 And then I heard a clicking, 
 
 'Twas no louder than the ticking 
 Of the clock :— 
 
 The busy, ticking, ticking. 
 Of the clock :— 
 Is some one at the lock ? 
 
 For constantly 'tis clicking — 
 
 Sure, some thief must be there picking- 
 There picking at the lock : — 
 
 But still it kept on clicking 
 
 Like the ticking of the clock, 
 
 And I wondered who was picking 
 
 At the lock. 
 
 78 
 
Now, soon I heard a beating, 
 And a tender voice entreating, 
 
 " Let me in !"— 
 There earnestly entreating, 
 " Let me in ; 
 And I'll forgive your sin !" — 
 I sought not for this meeting, 
 Nor, yet heeded him repeating, 
 
 " I'll cleanse you from all sin ;" 
 Yet still he kept entreating, 
 
 Kept repeating, " Let me in !"- 
 But I answered, " You there beating. 
 Can't come in." 
 
 And then I fell to grieving, 
 For all earthly things deceiving 
 
 Followed me ; — 
 The Ghost of disbelieving 
 
 Followed me : — 
 
 I would not bow the knee — 
 But unto sin kept cleaving. 
 And my inner soul believing. 
 
 That all is vanity : — 
 The spirit still bereaving 
 
 Lingered, grieving, over me ; 
 And I said, " You'd best be leaving, 
 
 Let me be !" 
 79 
 
But yet, He kept on pleading, 
 And I haughtily receding 
 
 From His side ; — 
 In vanity receding 
 
 From His side : — 
 
 But constantly he cried, 
 " Your sinful soul I'm needing, 
 And my heart for man is bleeding, 
 
 For you and all I died !" 
 But still I kept receding. 
 
 Never heeding, when he cried, 
 For I thought I was not needing 
 
 Any guide. 
 
 Much louder than the knocking, 
 'Til I felt a key unlocking 
 
 My cold heart ; — 
 The key of Love unlocking 
 
 My cold heart : — 
 
 The squeaking latches start : — 
 When stilled my jeers and mocking, 
 Lo ! the Savior ceased his knocking !- 
 
 I gave to him my heart : — 
 Though rust made hard unlocking, 
 
 Yet the hawking hinges part, 
 When I answered to the knocking 
 
 At my heart. 
 80 
 
RELY ON GOD. 
 
 (a hymn.) 
 
 I ONCE relied on self alone 
 To conquer sinful ways ; 
 I did not care a Christ to own, 
 Or Yet a God to praise,- 
 
 I wandered far away from God, 
 
 I entered into sin. 
 And often felt the chast'ning rod, 
 
 And conscience throbs within. 
 
 Yet, still I on myself relied, 
 
 And fell from day to day ; 
 How weak my will, how vain my pride ! 
 
 How insecure my way ! 
 
 But now I feel my wretchedness ; 
 
 I cannot stand alone, 
 But look to God — Oh ! may He bless 
 
 And lead me to His throne. 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 T WOULD gladly give up 
 1 This life and its care, 
 If I must e'er sup 
 
 From the bowl of despair. 
 When I seek to dispel 
 
 This life's bitter woe, 
 Like the tide it will swell, 
 
 Like the stream overflow. 
 81 
 
IN DARKNESS. 
 
 MY heart is but a clot of curdled blood, 
 With just enough of life to throb and thud 5 
 The stiff, black fluid courses through my veins. 
 Like eddying pools, that fill the slaughter mains. 
 
 Oh, God ! I feel just now, if death's cold dart 
 Should penetrate and still this aching heart, 
 I would accept it as a blessed release 
 From raging discord into restful peace. 
 
 Have I not sought to do Thy holy will ? 
 Thou knowest that I have. Oh, God ! yet, still 
 The dreadful storms of life do darkly roll. 
 And maddened waves do beat against my soul ! 
 
 To God, the Wise, the Infinite ! the Good ! 
 All things of life are fully understood ! — 
 To Him I give my wretched, burdened soul. 
 And pray that He will guide, forgive, control. 
 
 This moment send some message of relief; 
 Some tide to bear me through this sea of grief ; 
 Some cooling breeze to fan my fevered brow ; — 
 Oh ! Send thy blessing Father — send it now ! 
 
 Bid loving spirits lead me far away. 
 
 Where I may catch one glimpse of dawning day ; — 
 
 Pull back, oh ! God, this dark, o'erspreading sky, 
 
 And let my soul drink light — or let me die ! 
 
 82 
 
TO lAY OWN TRUE WIFE. 
 
 COME to me darling, yes come to me now ; 
 Come sit by my side, place thy hand on my brow j 
 Kiss me my dear, while I lean on thy breast, 
 'Twill soothe me, and cheer me, and give my soul rest. 
 
 Thou can'st not now come as in days of old, 
 With fair maiden ringlets, light tinged with gold. 
 Still, thou can'st come with the chestnut and gray^ 
 And heart just as true as in girlhood's day. 
 
 Long years have passed by, since first we did love, 
 Yet thou has't been true as the soul mated dove ; 
 The fates did us sever, and oceans divide, 
 But now, and forever, thou art my own Bride. 
 
 My sad heart was pierced by many a thorn — 
 Forsaken, oppressed, I wandered forlorn : — 
 Praying for that, which comes from above — 
 Hungering for harmony — thirsting for L^ove. 
 
 But then thou did'st come with thy love and thy|tears,. 
 
 And deeper the fount for th' long buried years ; 
 
 And to me thou art, as the waters of life — 
 
 Thou makest home, Home — Yes, thou art a Wife I 
 
 83 
 
BURIED AT SEA. 
 
 ' np WAS on the briny ocean wide 
 A I first knew Anna Moore ; 
 
 And oft she played close by my side, 
 As we went sailing o'er — 
 
 As we went sailing o'er the tide, 
 
 Her eyes, deep like the ocean's blue, 
 
 Her hair like sunset seas, 
 Was rich with heaven's golden hue, 
 
 As it waved in the breeze — 
 Waved in the breeze that gently blew. 
 
 And every one she learned to know, 
 
 And played in childish glee, 
 And watched the waves that come and go. 
 
 Asking how deep's the sea — 
 How deep's the deep, deep sea below? 
 
 The third day out the winds blew cold. 
 The clouds o'erspread the sky ; 
 
 Our gallant vessel plunged and rolled 
 On waves raised mountain high — 
 
 Raised mountain high, with force untold. 
 
 But Anna on the deck did stay. 
 
 And watched the great waves soar ; 
 
 She loved to see the " white caps " play, 
 And hear the billows roar — 
 
 The billows roar, and feel the spray. 
 84 
 
And then three days and nights passed by, 
 
 Days I have ne'er forgot ; 
 The sun shone bright in cloudless sky, 
 
 But Anna Moore came not — 
 Came not, for she was called to die. 
 
 I saw her when congestion heaved — 
 
 I saw her gasp for breath — 
 I saw her loving mother grieved : — 
 
 Her child was cold in death — 
 In death, from agony relieved. 
 
 Then from rough boards the seamen made 
 
 A casket for the dead, 
 And in it Anna Moore was laid ; 
 
 And o'er that box a mother shed. 
 Her tears — her bitter^ tears, and prayed. 
 
 " Don't throw my dear child in the sea," 
 
 She piteously did cry ; — 
 " This is the law, and this must be," 
 
 The Captain made reply — 
 Thus made reply, and stern was he. 
 
 A few short lines the Chaplain read ; 
 
 Rehearsed a burial rite. 
 Then overboard they plunged the dead — 
 
 Down in the sea's black night — 
 Down in the sea's black night, she sped. 
 
 85 
 
I watched the box sink in the deep, 
 
 I saw the bubbles rise ; 
 And sadness over all did creep, 
 
 And dimmed the tear wet eyes — 
 The tear wet eyes, for all did weep. 
 
 *^ Five miles, or more,'' the seaman said, 
 
 " That box will sink until 
 It finds the ocean's lonely bed, 
 
 Where all is calm and still — 
 Is calm and still as silent dead." 
 
 And there is Anna Moore's lone grave. 
 
 There on the stilly sands ; 
 Five miles below the ocean's wave, 
 
 Alone, alone, she stands, 
 Five miles below the ocean's wave. 
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 OUR Father, who doth reign. 
 Hallowed be Thy name ! 
 Thy Kingdom and Thy will 
 The earth and heavens fill ! 
 Give us our food this day ! 
 Guard us from evil's way ! 
 And Thine shall be the praise, 
 While we our anthems raise 
 On earth below, and when 
 We reach Thy throne ! Amen ! 
 86 
 
THE COWS WENT HOME ALONE. 
 
 ? T^ WAS an Autumn morning, and the cottage eaves 
 
 *■ Were fringed with icy fingers, 
 That dripped adown upon the withered leaves. 
 The sun stood on the mountains, 
 And the fountains 
 Were glittering with the light. 
 And the air was fresh and the hills were white. 
 'Twas this cold morning in November — 
 Ah ! well I now remember — 
 That I wandered to the hillside, and pondered 
 As I went, 
 My thoughts intent 
 Upon my lonely lot ; 
 And what 'twere best for me to do, 
 To make me more content : — 
 Whether to woo 
 A wife to love and care for me, 
 Or, yet, to wander, free 
 In some far off land — 
 Some wild country across the sea. 
 
 Musing thus, I plodded on and on. 
 Scarce knowing how far I'd gone. 
 Or whom I might meet. 
 Or whither my footsteps led : — 
 And the dead leaves from the icy trees, 
 
 87 
 
Were flitting in the spicy breeze, 
 
 And rustling 'neath my feet : — 
 
 And sweet the notes of birds, 
 
 But sweeter far, was the song of a milk-maid, 
 
 As she tripped along the hill-side singing merrily. 
 
 And her voice echoed down the valley far and wide : — 
 
 Oh ! she was a cheery, merry, bonny thing. 
 
 And I hid behind a tree to hear her sing. 
 
 " I wish I was a Bride," sang she ; — 
 
 " I wish I was a Bride." 
 
 " Thou Shalt be one !" I cried— "Wed me !"— 
 
 " Thou shalt be one !" I cried.— 
 
 " And who are you ?" said she, 
 
 As she glanced around the tree. 
 
 Her eyes were like the blue above. 
 And she was very fair ; — 
 Her lips betokened depths of love, 
 And oh ! I kissed them there — 
 While down her breast profusely flowed 
 Her wildy, golden hair ! 
 Oh ! yes, I kissed the milk-maid there ; — 
 Her mouth was like a rose half blown ; — 
 Her breath like breath of meadow mown : — 
 Oh ! she was fair, divinely fair. 
 And heaven's bliss was in the kiss — 
 And the cows went home alone ! — 
 
 But not alone went I, and not alone went she, 
 
For there beneath that spreading tree, 
 
 We pledged our love, and she went home with me : — 
 
 And she is fair, divinely fair, 
 
 And she is all mine own ; 
 
 And Heavens bliss is in her kiss, 
 
 For the cows went home alone, 
 
 And she went tripping by my side, — 
 And merrily the Church bells rang ; 
 And from that day she's never sang, 
 " I wish I was a Bride" — 
 But 'round our farm house day by day. 
 The happy children laugh and play — 
 And they are all our own — 
 And sweetest bliss is in their kiss. 
 For the cows went home alone ! 
 
 rATC. 
 
 THE Gods of Fate roll us along, 
 Like herd of boys their balls of snow ; 
 Some balls are weak and some are strong — 
 
 Some small — some monsters grow. 
 Some balls are tumbled down the steep, 
 
 Some fall in fragments as they roll ; 
 All gather dead leaves as they creep. 
 
 And all will reach one common goal ; 
 For when they cease with us to play, 
 
 They leave all there to melt away. 
 
 89 
 
THE A\AID or EDISTO. 
 (a tale of the late war.) 
 
 HOLD your 'kerchiefs in a handy place : — 
 You will need them ere I'm through, 
 For my Tale is a sad one, 
 And the saddest thought of it 'tis true ; — 
 And scattered fragments, like unto it, 
 Still darken many a household, 
 Whose stories never will be told — 
 Only faded pictures upon the wall 
 Speak :— That's all. 
 
 An old Plantation Mansion, once stood 
 Opon the Eastern shores of Edisto — 
 It was thirty years ago. 
 
 And a pine forest has grown above its ashes — 
 Thick, vine hedged, desolate and wild : — 
 There lived a wealthy Planter, and his only heir — 
 Rosamond, was her name — " Rosamond, the fair :"- 
 And she was Natures' own Loved Child. 
 She was as richly, fangled-girl, 
 As ever switched a tangled curl, 
 On the breeze of Edisto, 
 And chaste as snow. 
 
 Reared in green groves of luxury. 
 She wandered, free, 
 'Midst the tall pines, 
 
 90 
 
And the Magnolia groves, 
 
 And the tangled vines, 
 
 That hedged her Father's Mansion by the sea. 
 
 Over the shell paved roads — 
 
 Hard, and white as marble. 
 
 She lined the fiery steed. 
 
 Or galloped on his back : — 
 
 Nor, fleetest hound could lead, 
 
 Or snuff the dust that rose within her track : — 
 
 And like a golden banner, her elfin hair. 
 
 In beauty flowed. 
 
 Love kissed by the sweetly scented air. 
 
 And above her, high arched the Evergreen Oaks 
 
 Of two centuries growth — Mammoth trees — 
 
 Gray bearded with tangled moss — 
 
 Long, shaggy locks, swinging to the breeze. 
 
 In the branches of these great oaks, 
 Sheltered from the sun's hot rays. 
 At eventide. 
 The cuckoo cried. 
 
 In plaintive notes to his absent bride : — 
 And the doves mated, and the birdlings chirped. 
 And the mocking-birds kept singing all the day. 
 And the hooting owl, at midnight, sought his prey. 
 
 In the distance. 
 The voice of the bass lunged ocean, 
 Bellowed to the wave washed bay ; 
 
 91 
 
And a-down the sloping strand, 
 Flowed back the foaming spray. 
 
 Thus grew up Rosamond Randolph — 
 And she was beautiful : — 
 I will not undertake to paint her charms, 
 For words cannot express. 
 Her loveliness. 
 
 But should the Celestial Seraphim 
 Send to Earth their Queen of Beauty, 
 The two were twins ; — 
 For Heaven hath no fairer flower than she. 
 
 Her eyes — 
 Hushed be my pen, and dried mine ink : — 
 To reach their depth, I must the ocean's drink. 
 
 Her form — 
 Aye ! before her fair Venus 
 Would robe her Grecian grace. 
 Or Cleopatra hide her Queenly face. 
 And then, in some dark, hidden way, 
 Seek to slay 
 This rival beauty, 
 Least she should steal the heart of Anthony. 
 
 And Rosamond loved — 
 She loved but one — 
 
 Ralph Raleigh, treasured the heart of this fair Maid 
 'Twas beneath the shade 
 Of a great oak tree, 
 
 92 
 
By the sea, 
 
 That she gave it him — and she gave it all — 
 
 And she gave it free. 
 
 And there the Bridal day was named — 
 " April twelfth "— 
 
 A time when Southern wood and lawn 
 Are fresh and fair, 
 And fragrant mingling scents 
 Bewitch the air : — 
 When wild birds mate, 
 And Lovers linger longest by the gate. 
 
 " One year from this day " — said Ralph, 
 "Thou shalt become my Bride ; 
 And let the nuptial knot be tied 
 Beneath this old oak tree, 
 
 Where thou hast given this precious hand to me :'' — 
 And a ring upon her finger slips, 
 And upward turned the answering lips : — 
 And the grand, old sea. 
 Rocked merrily. 
 
 And a mocking-bird replied, 
 " Thus shall it be — 
 Te-wee ! Te-wee ! chick-a-de-dee-dee — 
 Hur-r-r-r-r — Te-wee ! wee ! wee ! wee — 
 And thy bridal guests we'll be ! " — 
 And a Robin flew by, with a sprig and a straw. 
 But an ill-omened Crow, kept crooking, " caw-caw ! " 
 
 93 
 
And a wise, old Owl, sat perched in the tree, 
 
 And he thought many things, but not a hoot, hoot he. 
 
 Blessed, was that man Ralph Raleigh : — 
 Happy, was that man Ralph Raleigh : — 
 Envied, was that man Ralph Raleigh : — 
 Hated, was that man Ralph Raleigh, 
 By many a disappointed Southern Knight, 
 Who had loved and lost fair Rosamond. 
 
 Proud, also, was Payton Randolph, 
 Of his prospective son — 
 
 In Carolina's Chivalrous blood, there was none. 
 Thought he, like unto the Randolphs and the Raleighs. 
 lyong winter evenings, Ralph sat, imprisoned 
 Beside the pine-wood flames. 
 With wine-good. 
 Sparkling in the glass. 
 
 While old Randolph boasted about their names, 
 Till half the night would pass. 
 And when fair Rosamond, 
 Would lay his slippers by his feet. 
 And his sheet did shake and heat, 
 And turn, and heat, and shake ; 
 Yet, not a hint did Father Randolph take. 
 
 And, in the Summer, and Spring time. 
 The Lovers oft' were seen, 
 Wandering the shady green. 
 Or lounging beneath that same old tree — 
 
 94 
 
Watching the waves, 
 
 Not dreaming, that, some day, that sacred spot. 
 Might mark two lonely graves. 
 
 'Twas thus the months passed by, 
 Until that eventful day : — 
 The bright sun rose upon a cloudless sky. 
 And the soft breeze swayed the sword on the lea. 
 And the foam danced lightly on the furrowed sea, 
 And the guests had gathered, and all went merrily. 
 
 The fair Maids sipped of Italy's choicest wine, 
 And around the festive board, 
 The gay young Knights, down poured 
 " Old Bourbon," from a garden gourd. 
 And it was very fine. 
 
 And the tables were spread 
 Beneath that old, oak tree. 
 Where the marriage was to be, 
 By the sea-side ; — 
 In the balmy eve-tide ; — 
 With the mead'lark sweetly singing, 
 And the notes of cuckoo ringing 
 Through the trees : — 
 Where the mistletoe was clinging. 
 And the gray moss o'er them swinging 
 In the breeze. 
 
 And the Chivalry of old Charleston, were there : — 
 
 And their leggings were buckled with silver and gold. 
 
 And their bearing was like to the brave Knights of old» 
 
 95 
 
And the beautiful Belles of Augusta were there : 
 And their eyes bore a lustre, rich, deep as the seas. 
 And their wildy locks gamboled in the soft South breeze. 
 
 And the Planters' fair daughters were there : — 
 And they chased through the pines like herd of wild does, 
 And their cheeks were a-tinge with the blush of the rose. 
 
 And the Brides' Maids were there : — 
 And robed in fine laces, all were heavenly sheen, 
 Like a Princess, adorned, they awaited their Queen. 
 
 And the Grooms-men were there : — 
 And their spiked tailed coats made the hounds wag their 
 
 tails, 
 For they took them for sportsmen, out larking for quails. 
 
 And the Parson was there : — 
 And his white robes were girdled, with wreaths from the 
 
 glades. 
 Fashioned, in beauty, by the hands of the Maids ; 
 While, deep in his pocket, it must not be forgot. 
 Huddled, ten yellow guineas, for tying the knot. 
 
 And he bore a signet for the Bride ; — 
 And the tide 
 
 Had gone down, and there was no sail on the wave ; 
 And, like into a grave. 
 The red sun had gone ; 
 
 And the shades of the night were gathering on : — 
 And the mocking-birds' song lingered sweet in the breeze, 
 And the cuckoo kept cooing, " coo, -coo" in the trees. 
 
 96 
 
And the Bride was there — and she was Angelic : 
 But a tinge, like to death, her fair features stole o'er, 
 As, in Bridal Costume, she stood by the door. 
 And list for the footsteps she had heard oft before, 
 But instead, from the sea, came a rumbling roar ; — 
 And she wiped the hot tears oflf her reddening eyes. 
 And wondered, it thundered, and no clouds in the skies. 
 But the guests in the wood-lawn kept up such a glee. 
 They heard not the roar that stirred the foam on the sea : 
 And the stupid old " Raven," sat perched as of yore — 
 Sat perched — sat moping, on the Bride's chamber door, 
 Still croaking his dirge — "Nevermore — Nevermore!" 
 And all the sweet singers of the forest were there : 
 And they sang till the owl hooted hoarse on the air: — 
 "Too-whoo ! — Too-whoo ! — To whom do you sing !" 
 " Cuck-coo ! cuck-coo ! —To Ralph Raleigh, Oh! King !" 
 <* Hoo — oo - oo - oo - hoo ! " — 
 Then the wings on the breeze 
 Beat the dews from the trees. 
 
 And the guests of the forest were heard nevermore ; 
 Still over the bay came that hideous roar ; 
 And Columbia's brave eagle, spread his wings on the sky, 
 And there was strength in his talons, and war in his cry. 
 The night shades cast a gloom over the dark deeps 
 The dim stars look forth with a watery eye — 
 Rosamond weeps : — 
 The lightning drinks the lightning 
 In its rapid flash, 
 
 7 97 
 
And thunders clash 
 
 With thunders, as they rumble o'er the waters ; 
 
 And hushed the festive melodies of Carolina's daughters 
 
 Boom ! — Boom ! — Boom ! 
 
 Faces change, all is gloom)! — 
 
 A death-like silence o'er the Bridal gathering falls — 
 
 It is ! — It is the cannon — 
 
 Thundering on old Sumter's walls ! — 
 
 Old men with sad and thoughtful faces 
 Lean on their staffs — speechlessly confounded, 
 For the voice of War has sounded : — 
 " To arms ! — To arms ! " — The great guns call ; 
 And well these gray-haired veterans know. 
 That " Many brave boys must fall !'' — 
 And sad scenes of death and desolation 
 Over their senses creep, 
 As the red moon paints blood spots, 
 Upon the shifting deep. 
 
 Fired by a frenzied zeal, 
 As peal, on peal, 
 Of the cannon's belching mouth, 
 Rolls over the ocean's wave, 
 The brave 
 
 Young Southern Knight, 
 Mounts his steed, and gallops to the fight : — 
 Lovers linger at the door — 
 Embrace and part to meet no more : — 
 Brothers and Sisters exchange the sad " Farewell " — 
 
 98 
 
For time ? — Forever ? — Who can tell ? — 
 
 Mothers weep, 
 
 And children peep, 
 
 With eyes a-keen, 
 
 Wondering what it all can mean : — 
 
 Fathers bid their brave sons, " Go ! 
 
 And on the foe, 
 
 Ne'er turn your back — 
 
 Better, far, you bravely die, than courage lack — 
 
 Go ! — Your cause is right, 
 
 And be thou foremost in the fight !" — 
 
 The clattering of an hundred hoofs, 
 A-down the bay. 
 
 Mingled with the cannon's boom. 
 Until it died away 
 In the far-off distance, 
 And the Randolph Mansion was as a living tomb. 
 
 Hastily the fair Bride, 
 And her Maids, cast aside 
 
 Their snow-white robes — diamond wreathed — 
 On which many a hungry ray, 
 Had glittered all the day. 
 And clothed in raiment, as in death's room, 
 More ghastly were their bleached faces, 
 And more deep the gloom. 
 
 It is Midnight— 
 The sea is all ablaze 
 With bursting flames that whip the sky 
 
 99 
 
And drink the stars ; 
 
 And heaven's high 
 
 Arch quivers, as though the God, Mars, 
 
 Had awakened from his sleep, 
 
 And thundered from the deep ! 
 
 Rosamond leans by the gate — 
 She hears the faint clattering of advancing hoofs : — 
 Her quick ear 
 
 Catches the firm gallop of old " King Lear — " 
 Ralph Raleigh's fleetest steed. 
 And she wipes away a tear. 
 Nearer, and nearer, they approach : — 
 Oft times before had the roll of that gallant hoof 
 Made her heart rejoice, 
 And she knew it, even as the voice 
 Of her own beloved Ralph. 
 
 Hopes brighten :— " Can it be Ralph?— Can it be—" 
 Thought she, 
 " That some adverse fate 
 Has kept him away, 
 And at this late 
 Hour, he comes to fill his vow, 
 Upon the appointed day ? — 
 The Parson still is here — 
 
 He comes ! He comes ! — Ralph ! — Ralph !" — 
 She heaves a sigh. 
 For the rider made not reply. 
 
 Blind faith, and hope, and love, 
 100 
 
Had"warped her mind ; 
 
 And in the darkened night, 
 
 The flood of tears had dimmed her sight — 
 
 She thought it must be Ralph — 
 
 He could not thus forsake the one he loved so dear ? 
 
 And there stood old " King Lear," 
 
 His nostrils extended wide. 
 
 And white with foam his dripping side : — 
 
 *' Ralph ! Ralph ! — " again she cried. 
 
 " I am not Ralph," the messenger replied : — 
 " I bring a message from his honor, 
 To my Lady Rosamond." 
 
 She grasped it with a hopeful cry. 
 As a drowning child ; 
 And there was a wild 
 Glimmer in her eyes : — 
 She flies to the lamp beside the door — 
 The cannon roar — 
 Reads simply — 
 
 *' Dear Rosamond, Forgive me — 
 But our Homes and our Country first — 
 We are storming Sumter — Ralph. — " 
 The cannon roar — 
 
 Rosamond clasps her fluttering heart — 
 The cannon roar — 
 Staggers — falls lifeless upon the floor ! 
 
 'Tis strange, think you, that one who truly loved, 
 Could thus forsake his own sweet Bride : — 
 
 101 
 
But, yet, it was a time when the tide 
 
 Of human passion had burst its bounds : — 
 
 Nor mountains — nor seas — nor the great arched sky — 
 
 Nor, yet, the love of woman, could it confine : — 
 
 It was a breath from the angry courts on high : 
 
 And it waxed hot in men's souls, 
 
 As in the heart^of Judas, 
 
 And it filled the whole land : 
 
 When God— Our Country's God, 
 
 With his mighty hand. 
 
 Waved armies forth ; 
 
 Then lashed the Nation with His chastening rod — 
 
 And lashed it well ; 
 
 Until into the pits of hell, 
 
 Four million human shackles fell : — 
 
 And His work thus done. 
 
 His loving arms encircled all ; — 
 
 And forgave He all ; and blessed He all ; 
 
 And bound He all, as One : — 
 
 One people — One Country — One Flag — 
 
 The Mightiest Brotherhood beneath the sun. 
 
 And so condemn we not 
 
 Ralph Raleigh's brave endeavor : 
 
 'Twas God's own work, and His works endure forever^ 
 
 Step we thus aside, 
 That no foul blot shall mar our hero's name ; 
 For though Ralph wore the " Gray," 
 And I did wear the " Blue," 
 
 102 
 
And, each were soldiers, brave and true ; 
 
 And, yet, though one was right, the other wrong. 
 
 Or equally the right and wrong did share ; — 
 
 What boots it, when 'twas God's affair? — 
 
 He hath no mind, and cavern sunk his eyes. 
 
 And never snuffed the smoke of shell, 
 
 Who boastfully goes about to gabble otherwise. 
 
 But Rosamond — poor Rosamond — Is she dead? 
 Hold gently her lifeless head : — 
 Her hands are stiff — her cheeks like snow — 
 Her eyes have lost their sparkling glow — 
 They seem death set : — 
 Great drops of corpse-like sweat 
 Gleam on her brow : — 
 They raise her from the floor, 
 And bear her to the couch — 
 The cannon roar — 
 Lay her gently down and weep ; 
 And the old " Raven," waking from his sleep — 
 The cannon roar — 
 
 Mournfully murmurs — " Nevermore !" — 
 Then flew from his perch on the chamber door — 
 Out in the night flew he — 
 Out to that old oak tree : — 
 
 And the hungry old owl hooted, " Hoo - hoo - hoo !" 
 And the Raven was seen, and heard nevermore. 
 
 Old Sumter falls — 
 Ralph Raleigh, black with battle smoke 
 
 103 
 
As the skin of his slave Nero, 
 Proudly waves the Palmetto flag 
 Upon its topmost walls : — 
 And shouts ascend to the brave hero. 
 
 Bre the blackened skies had cleared away, 
 And while the roar of cannon still 
 Gapped the broad mouth of the bellowing bay, 
 Ralph Raleigh received this impromptu order : — 
 
 "Go to Richmond — 
 Receive command of Cavalry — 
 Make no delay, — 
 Beauregard." — 
 
 And ere the sun had set that day, 
 Ralph Raleigh speeds on his way. 
 Now, for the first time, since these stirring scenes. 
 The soldier's mind turned 
 Wholly to his abandoned Bride ; 
 And his temples throbbed and burned, 
 While the old ship plowed the tide. 
 
 " Just one approving word from her," thought he, 
 ** Would stir my soul to greater bravery ; — 
 And memory stored with one last fond embrace — 
 This sacred trust, 
 Would make me die, if die I must. 
 With nobler grace. 
 
 I will pour my soul out to her, that she may know, 
 I broke my sacred pledge, because I loved her so :" — 
 And then, 
 
 104 
 
He grasped his pen, 
 And thus he wrote : — 
 
 " Rosamond, my Love — my forsaken Bride — 
 Can'st thou forgive me ? — Wilt thou hear me ? — 
 Oh ! that I was near thee. 
 That I might unfold to thee 
 The anguish of my soul ; 
 For well I know, I've thrust a dart 
 Through thy confiding bosom, and pierced thy heart. 
 
 But, yet, 'twas not because I loved thee less : — 
 Nay, I love thee so, 
 
 I would in thy sweet eyes be naught but manliness : — 
 My Chieftain bade me go — 
 " Go man the guns !" — and though 
 My soul was far away 
 With thee, sweet Love, 
 I could not but obey. 
 
 Thou wouldst not to thy bosom take me — 
 For thou art all a woman — 
 If thou didst in me see 
 A want of bravery : 
 And so. 
 
 To hold thy treasured love, sweet one, 
 I'll never turn my back upon the foe. 
 
 Besides, fair Rosamond, 
 I must preserve to thee, a Home ; 
 And should my Slaves — my Lands 
 Be wrenched away, while I raised not my hands, 
 
 105 
 
Or act my part, 
 
 To such a skulking coward, 
 
 Thou could'st not give thy heart. 
 
 Then believe me, dear, I vow by all above, 
 I part with thee, to better hold thy love — 
 A few short months, at most, will pass, 
 As I believe, till I return to thee ; 
 
 In conquered peace, and our beloved South forever free ; 
 When thou, dear Rosamond, whose heart I've won, 
 Will love me all the more for what I've done." 
 
 This manly message reached 
 The Randolph Mansion, 
 When, around poor Rosamond's couch 
 Was gathered a weeping band : — 
 For she was dying — so the doctor thought. 
 He held her cold, stiflf, lifeless hand. 
 And the fluttering pulse ran high ; 
 And, ever and anon, she gasped as one in death ; 
 And heaved a mournful sigh. 
 And on it whispered 
 
 " Ralph — Ralph — Thou hast forsaken me — 
 Let me die !" — 
 
 Then closed her eyes and rested — 
 Awaiting the departing breath. 
 
 " No," said the doctor, 
 " Ralph has not forsaken you — 
 We have a message from him :" — 
 " A message ? — A message ? And is it for me ? " 
 
 106 
 
She reached forth her quivering hands — raised her head 
 Her sunken eyes glared forth, 
 As from the sockets of the dead. 
 
 " Be calm, my child," the doctor kindly said — 
 *' The message, my dear, is all for you ; — 
 And manly ; and loving ; and brave ; and true ; — 
 Drink this, 'twill give you strength :" — 
 And he held a glass to her pallid lips. 
 For the first time since that fatal day. 
 She consents, and sips 
 The strengthening draught. 
 
 The doctor read the message 
 In voice, low and calm, 
 As reading to a child ; 
 And that wild 
 Weird stare vanished. 
 
 And the chilled blood, warmed by loves sweet words, 
 Flowed back and tinged her cheeks : — 
 The change from death to life, a glad surprise. 
 And tears of joy dripped from many loving eyes — 
 Fell upon her pillow, like drops of rain. 
 And Rosamond was soon her own sweet self again. 
 
 " I am here, your honor, by high command — 
 What would'st thou have thy servant do? '' — 
 Thus spoke Ralph Raleigh to the great Chieftain — 
 
 " Thou art young. 
 But then thou art no stripling, said the Chief : 
 
 107 
 
" Thou hast the bearing of a soldier, 
 
 And the eye of an eagle : — 
 
 Take thy sword — Thy Command is at the door : — 
 
 Go ! Clear the way — Guard the outposts, 
 
 Till I shall come with my hosts ! — 
 
 Thou hast an important mission, my son ! — 
 
 Away ! — Away ! — On to Washington !" — 
 
 Then the hoofs of a thousand horsemen 
 Hammered the stony street, 
 And the sweet 
 
 Maids wave kisses, from the flag leafed balconies, 
 And the drums beat : — 
 And loud rang out the cheers, 
 For the brave Volunteers, 
 Until the galloping foot-notes died away. 
 In the pine woods of Old Virginia. 
 
 And well did Ralph Raleigh perform that work- 
 That God directed mission : — 
 For in this bold dash, 
 To the very gates of the Capital City, 
 Did his saber flash : 
 
 And cast its gleam across the broad Potomac, 
 Glittering in the face of that fair Goddess, 
 High poised on Liberty'sTemple : 
 When Westward she turned her eyes — 
 Reflected but for a moment — 
 Wiped away a tear : — 
 
 Then raised her right arm to the high arched skies :— 
 
 108 
 
But not a word she spoke : — 
 
 Yet, at the uplifted waving of her hand, 
 
 The sleeping North awoke. 
 
 And, so we say, God bless — 
 
 Aye ! — God did bless the daring deeds 
 
 Of brave Ralph Raleigh. 
 
 Time speeds on — 
 Armies pour in from the North : — 
 Armies from the South : — 
 Young men — old men ; — 
 All Patriots — bold men ; — 
 Bach, God inspired, that he is in the right 
 All, headlong, rushing to the fight: 
 Till on the banks of " Old Bull Run," 
 Two gallant armies stand. 
 With sword and gun in hand. 
 Awaiting the high command, 
 At the rising of the sun. 
 
 That night a melancholy gloom 
 Crept through Ralph Raleigh's soul, 
 As though the goal 
 Of some impending doom 
 Hung stark before his eyes. 
 The star lit skies 
 Looked mournfully over him ; 
 And the moon was pale and dim : — 
 And the weak flicker of the camp fire, 
 Cast ghostly shadows ; 
 
 109 
 
And the dews a-down tlie leaflets crept, 
 And the branches wept. 
 
 To rid his mind of these dark foreboding thoughts, 
 He wrote a long, sweet, cheering letter, 
 To his waiting Bride — 
 
 Wrote it upon his knee — his sword buckled to his side, 
 Ready for the foe ; 
 And closed with these sweet words : 
 
 TO THK MAID OF EDISTO — 
 
 I'm watching by the campfires Love — 
 
 My spirit's off with thee ; — 
 Way down in Carolina Love, 
 
 Her Island by the sea : — 
 Thou sleepest, Love — sleep on my Love ; 
 
 I would not wake thee — No ! — 
 But whisper, low, I love thee Love, 
 
 Sweet Maid of Edisto — 
 Sweet Edisto ! 
 
 Sweet Edisto ! — Sweet Edisto I — 
 
 I love thy soft South breeze ; 
 I love thy verdure, Edisto ; 
 
 I love thy forest trees ; 
 I love the moonlight on thy shore. 
 
 But why I love thee so, — 
 It is because there dwells my Love, 
 
 Sweet Maid of Edisto — 
 Sweet Edisto ! 
 
 110 
 
I would that I were there, my Love, 
 
 My own Love by my side ; 
 But aye ! sweet one, a cruel arm 
 
 Has torn me from my Bride ; 
 But there my spirit lingers, Love, 
 
 While tides do ebb and flow — 
 There with thee, Love, in love's embrace, 
 
 Sweet Maid of Edisto— 
 Sweet Edisto ! 
 
 When furled the shattered battle flag. 
 
 And Independence won, 
 I'll proudly, Love, return to thee. 
 
 My martial labors done ; 
 And, oh ! how sweet the bugle call. 
 
 When I shall homeward go. 
 And coming, pipe thee to my arms. 
 
 Sweet Maid of Edisto— 
 Sweet Edisto ! 
 
 And now I dream a dream, my Love — 
 
 Oh ! may it never fade ; 
 And in my dream the war is o'er. 
 
 And 'neath the cooling shade. 
 Thy lily hand I proudly hold — 
 
 On it two signets glow, 
 And one a sacred Wedding Seal, 
 
 Sweet Maid of Edisto ! 
 Sweet Edisto ! 
 Ill 
 
Good-bye! — Sweet Maid! — Good-bye! my I^ove, 
 
 For dawns the morning light ; 
 And soon the bugle notes will call 
 
 Us forth to brave the fight ; 
 I cannot say, " Farewell !" my Love — 
 
 But hark, the bugles blow ! — 
 Good-bye ! — Good-bye ! — God Bless My Love ! — 
 
 Sweet Maid of Bdisto — 
 Sweet Edisto ! 
 
 This message of love speeds on its way — 
 Ralph Raleigh to the battle fray, 
 
 That hand just trembling with loves' hopes and fears, 
 Now clasps the sword with a warrior's grip. 
 Those eyes, scarce dry from ajBfection's tears, 
 Now blazing above a firm set lip, 
 Look forth as an eagle from the skies. 
 *■'■ Forward,'' the warrior cries! — 
 
 A wondrous Charge was made : 
 Battle flags streaming — 
 Sabers gleaming — 
 Onward they plunge — 
 Up leaped a " Wall of Blue !— " 
 Out flashed the lightning's hue ! — 
 Loud roared a mighty clash ! — 
 Horses and riders fall ! — 
 Onward the living dash ! — 
 Into the crumbling " Wall !— " 
 Over the vanished " Wall !— " 
 
 112 
 
On till their leader fell !— 
 He wlio had fought so well ! — 
 Fell, when the cannon's roar, 
 Thundered at the Nation's door ! — 
 
 Pierced with a missle of death, 
 Ralph feels his life-blood flow : 
 And his thoughts turn to the Maid of Edisto. 
 *' Ere the departing breath. 
 Let me look upon her sweet face once more." 
 
 He drew her picture from near his heart. It is gore 
 With his own blood, and the fair face bullet pierced : — 
 " But a moment of life is left — 
 One farewell word to her — " 
 
 " Darling, I am dying : — 
 My last thoughts are of thee ; — 
 Bury me 'neath the old oak tree : 
 My breath fails — I cannot see : — 
 Far-'ll — Ral— " 
 
 Thus upon that spotted card, wrote he — 
 Wrote with a twig, dipped in his own blood — 
 One moment more — a whispered breath — 
 " God bless my Love ! — " And Ralph 
 Was wrapped in death ! 
 
 Rosamond was seated on the great balcony. 
 Looking out upon the moon-lit sea : — 
 The servant brings Ralph's last fond message — 
 She reads it with a mingled sense of grief and gladness : 
 While bright with hope, and cheer, and love, 
 8 113 
 
It, yet, seemed craped with mystic sadness. 
 
 Which resembled woe, 
 
 As the frost resembles snow : — 
 
 And dread misgivings, mingle with hopeful dreams, 
 
 Like the moon-light on the wave. 
 
 Mingling with darkness, casts sparkling gleams, 
 
 That glitter above their grave. 
 
 Knew she not, that the same bright morn. 
 
 There flooding the ocean's crest. 
 
 That moment looked from the cold blue skies. 
 
 And glowed in the death fixed eyes. 
 
 Of him, on whose breast 
 
 She longed so much to rest. 
 
 But there sat the Maid, 
 As one held by some mysterious power — 
 Nor counted the midnight's fleeting hour : — 
 There alone sat she — 
 There wrapped in melancholy : 
 There gazing out upon the sea and skies — 
 Pale, emaciated, weak ; — and deep sunk her eyes :— 
 There all the night, like a robed statue, sat she ; 
 And the mist of the morning hung low on the lea. 
 And tears were dripping from the old oak tree. 
 
 The " Post Messenger " arrives : — 
 Hands her a large, sealed envelope : — 
 It is marked, " Bull Run :"— 
 It is a strange hand writing : — 
 Her heart throbs ; — 
 Her hand quivers : — 
 Her whole form shivers : — 
 She has not strength to break the seal — 
 
 114 
 
The " messenger " tears it asunder : — 
 
 Oh ! fatal blunder ! 
 
 Hands her the bullet pierced shadow of herself — 
 
 Crimson dyed : — blood spotted : — horror scrolled : — 
 
 She lifts her right arm — holds her breath : — 
 
 Motionless as the Goddess of Grim Death 
 
 Her fixed eyes stare : — 
 
 She catches the words — 
 
 " Darling^ I am dying — My last thoughts are of thee " — 
 
 A wild shriek : 
 
 " He's dead ! — He's dead ! " — In grief she cried : — 
 " Come, take thy Bride ! "— 
 Then falling stark upon the floor, 
 She gasped — " He comes !" — 
 And breathed no more ! — 
 
 The Brides' Maids come again, 
 But their raiment of white, 
 Bore the dark shades of night ; — 
 And a pall over Edisto's verdure was spread. 
 As the songsters o'er head, 
 Chant their dirge to the Dead : — 
 And now, in one grave, beneath that old tree, 
 The Bride and the Bride Groom 
 Rest, alone by the sea : — 
 And the birds in the spring. 
 Sweetly sing. 
 As of Yore ; 
 
 But the roar 
 
 Of the cannon 
 Is heard — 
 
 Nevkr More. 
 
 115 
 
ClilLDRENS' BOOKS. 
 
 1L0VE to read the childrens' books — 
 Sweet lessons they impart ; 
 The stories find the little nooks, 
 And corners of my heart. 
 
 They make me feel a child again, 
 
 Beside my mother's knee. 
 Who taught me first the Saviour's name, 
 
 And how He died for me. 
 
 How sweet the little stories seem. 
 
 So beautiful and true 
 That tears upon my eyelids gleam. 
 
 Like crystal drops of dew. 
 
 God bless the little messenger, 
 
 " Glad Tidings," and its kind ; 
 
 The ripened soul they often stir. 
 As well as budding mind. 
 
 If I would some great truth unfold, 
 
 I'd sing it like the birds ; 
 The greatest thoughts are greatest told 
 
 In simple childlike words. 
 
 116 
 
WHERE. 
 
 WHERE is the morning light ? 
 Over there. — 
 Over where ? 
 Over in the night ! 
 
 Where has my noonday gone ? — 
 
 Over there. — 
 
 Over where ? — 
 Over to'ards the dawn ! 
 
 Where does the sun now rest? — 
 
 Over there. — 
 
 Over where? — 
 Over in the west ! 
 
 Where are life's scattered seeds? — 
 
 Over there. — 
 
 Over where ? 
 Over 'midst the weeds ! 
 
 Where are the hopes God gave ? — 
 
 Over there. — 
 
 Over where ? — 
 Over in the grave ! 
 
 Where will my joy first bloom ? — 
 
 Over there. — 
 
 Over where ? 
 Over in the tomb ! 
 
 117 
 
1 WOULD NOT TURN BACKWARD. 
 
 I WOULD not turn backward old Time in his flight, 
 Or live again over those dark days of night ; 
 The pleasures of youth may be gilded and fair, 
 Yet, spirits grow ripe through the burdens they bear. 
 
 My life-boat has drifted by rock and by shoal, 
 Bach danger has left its imprint on the soul ; — 
 I would not turn back o'er the dark, stormy sea, 
 Lest my boat should go down and waves cover me. 
 
 I would not turn back when the tempests have passed, 
 And the breeze is now blowing a gentler blast, — 
 I see in the distance the dawning of light, 
 While the rough sea behind is clouded in night. 
 
 Although my dark beard is thick sprinkled with gray, 
 
 And my temples more silvery lined each day. 
 
 Yet, I ask not again for its rich brown glow. 
 
 But welcome the day when 'tis white as the snow. 
 
 And now, while the waves do but gently roll, 
 I feel a sweet calmness steal over my soul ; 
 I look for the light in that radiant land. 
 Where I may cast anchor on the golden sand. 
 
 Then let my bark sail towards the haven of rest ; 
 One life is sufficient, 'tis hard at the best ; 
 What ever my lot in that veil hidden shore, 
 I would not turn backward, but ply at the oar. 
 
 118 
 
DISCONTENT. 
 
 AN AUTUMN DREAM. 
 
 A GLOOMY shadow gathered over me, 
 And all of earth did seem but vanity ; 
 And all the trifling ills of life did rise 
 Like gathering storm clouds in the western skies. 
 The darkness spread so dense that I bethought 
 To murmur loud to God my wretched lot : — 
 To envy others whom I thought possessed 
 The whole of this world's comfort, peace and rest. 
 
 Thus I bemoaned my misery and grief. 
 Till life seemed only woe and death relief; 
 And in this midnight's gloom of mind I knelt 
 In humble prayer, to learn why God had dealt 
 To me but dregs, and crumbs, and grief and woe, 
 While richest blessings on all others flow ; 
 And piteously I plead my sore distress, 
 My woes, my griefs, my pains, my wretchedness. 
 
 Oppressed in mind, and losing faith in prayer, 
 I wandered out to breathe the evening air ; 
 A passing lad brought me the " Sunday News," 
 And o'er its pages I began to muse. 
 But scarce one score of desert lines I read. 
 Until a mystic swimming swayed my head ; 
 And then sweet sleep did o'er me cast his veil. 
 And strange sights came — but listen to my tale. 
 
 119 
 
I dreamed — for it was but a dream — I saw 
 A priestly man, a reader of the law — 
 An aged saint, upon whose kindly face 
 The cares of time had left their furrowed trace ; 
 And reaching forth his hand he said to me : 
 " I have a lesson to impart to thee ; 
 Arise and follow me, and thy vain heart 
 Shall learn content and wisdom ere we part!" 
 
 A thousand mystic thoughts ran through my brain ; — 
 
 I raised my eyes toward heaven then, again ; 
 
 " Arise ! Arise !" came echoing from the upper spheres, 
 
 And lingered long upon my listening ears. 
 
 Like a child who trembles at the tutor's voice, 
 
 It seemed to me I had no other choice ; 
 
 And quivering with fear in every limb, 
 
 I gained my feet, and humbly followed him. 
 
 He led me out upon the stony street, 
 And scarce one block we pass, until we meet 
 A man blind from his birth ; — no spark of light 
 Had ever gladdened that man's endless night. 
 •' Behold !" said he, " Give to this man thine eyes. 
 That he may view the stars and deep, blue skies ; 
 And in exchange thy coat of grief he'll wear !" 
 " No, no, my Lord, his lot I could not bear !" 
 
 My guide then beckoned to a passing mute : — 
 Said he, " perhaps, methinks 'twill suit 
 To give this man thine ears, that he may hear 
 
 120 
 
The loving voice of wife and children dear ; — 
 
 The notes of music wafted on the breeze, 
 
 And songs of warbling birds in leafy trees ; — 
 
 Give him thine ears — thy crown of thorns he'll wear !" 
 
 " No, no, my lyord, his lot I could not bear !" 
 
 " Behold !" said he, " that man across the way: — 
 From morning's early dawn till close of day. 
 He sitteth there upon the stony street 
 To beg, for God hath given him no feet. 
 If it shall be thy wish, I, with this knife. 
 Will cleave thine ankle joints — thy wretched life 
 Shall now this beggar's be — he thy woes wear." 
 " No, no, my Lord, his lot I could not bear!" 
 
 " Then, what of yonder man, who, from disease, 
 Is tortured out of shape, until his knees 
 Do meet, and chafe against his sunken chest ; 
 Wouldst thou accept his lot, and find sweet rest ? — 
 Or, this man stumbling by, who, from his birth 
 Has been a fool — a moving lump of earth, 
 With just enough of mind to gawk and stare ?" — 
 " No, no, my Lord, their lot I could not bear !" 
 
 " Then come with me and let us search to find 
 A place best suited to thy troubled mind ; 
 And to thee, most replete with earthly bliss — 
 Thou shalt there rest in all its blessedness. 
 But, may 1 ask, lest it should be forgot, 
 
 121 
 
Wilt thou not now accept of thine own lot 
 As God hath marked it out for thee to share ?" 
 " No, no, my Lord, 7ny lot I can not bear !'' 
 
 He led me down within sin's dark abyss ; — 
 I heard the devil's chant, and serpent's hiss ; — 
 I saw the lust, and shame, and blackened sin. 
 And shuddered at the demon's horrid grin. 
 Said he, " Behold the gate is opened wide — 
 'Tis free to all, thou mayest here abide ; 
 I go, but leave you in yon demon's care." 
 " No, no, my Lord, this home I could not share !" 
 
 " Ah ! true, my son, thou would'st not linger here, 
 
 But just above there is another sphere. 
 
 Where half do live and die of all mankind ; 
 
 A home in this domain thou mayest find." 
 
 And then I wandered through that dreary land, 
 
 I heard sad sobs, and moans on every hand ; — 
 
 I saw the widowed mothers on their knees. 
 
 And heard a winter wind moan through the trees ; — 
 
 I stood amidst the dying and the dead. 
 
 And heard the children crying loud for bread; — 
 
 I fled away — 'twas more than I could bear : — 
 
 " No, no, my Lord, these homes I would not share !" 
 
 And then he led me up a great highway. 
 Where throngs ran to and fro in wild dismay ; — 
 Some pushing upward to the higher steeps. 
 Some stumbling downward to the slimy deeps ; 
 
 1 oo 
 
And soon we skirt a wide extended plain, 
 
 Where busy life, and Christian virtues reign ; 
 
 But 'way beyond, I viewed a higher glade, 
 
 Where I bethought the roses never fade. 
 
 And bade my guide ascend with me those heights, 
 
 For now my soul was filled with new delights. 
 
 " Thou wouldst not then explore this land so fair?" 
 
 *' No, no, my Lord, this land I wouldnot share !" 
 
 We leave the busy throng of life below, 
 
 And up the wall-lined guarded road we go ; — 
 
 We reach the top, but cold, and bleak, and chill, 
 
 The wind did blow upon that Royal Hill : — 
 
 The birds scarce dared to sing one plaintive lay, 
 
 And flowers bloomed, but only to decay ; — 
 
 The marble statuary did welcome me 
 
 With warmer grace than Titled Royalty ; 
 
 And, turning to my guide I humbly said, 
 
 " I feel like one alone amongst the dead ; — 
 
 I find no kindly feeling anywhere ; — 
 
 No, no, these Princely homes I would not share !" 
 
 *' Then would'st thou wish to reign a King?" said he, 
 " For now, my wand'ring son, I've shown to thee 
 The whole of life, except that busy land 
 Which thou would'st not explore, but did'st command 
 That we should pass, and mount this Royal Hill, 
 And yet, thy soul is discontented still. 
 But come — behold the Monarch's mighty Throne ! 
 
 123 
 
Now, for a time, it shall be all thine own !" 
 
 " But why, my Lord, these walls ; — these gates of steel ; 
 
 These guards ; — these bolted doors ? They make me feel 
 
 That I shall enter but a prison there ; — 
 
 Ah ! no, a Monarch's Throne I would not share !'' 
 
 " Then come, my son, pass by the guards — the gate 
 
 And from the social hill of high estate 
 
 Look down upon Industry's fields below, 
 
 And see if thou can'st find some place to go ; 
 
 For now the sun is low down in the west. 
 
 And soon thou must secure some place of rest." 
 
 I scanned the waving hills and spreading plain ; — 
 
 I saw the orchard, vine, and ripening grain ; — 
 
 I heard the milk-maid sing and cattle low. 
 
 As from the rich, green fields, they homeward go; — 
 
 I saw the great mill-wheels turn round and round. 
 
 And crystal streams through hills and valleys wound : — 
 
 Said I, "my Lord, I gratefully will share. 
 
 My home, my all, within this land so fair !" 
 
 " Behold ;" said he, "the sun has sunk below 
 The western hills ; the shades of night do grow 
 Upon us fast, but in the last dim ray 
 That lingers in the shades of vanished day. 
 Thou mayest see some place thou would'st abide ; 
 Point such to me, and there I will thee guide, 
 Where thou shalt rest, and find a sure relief 
 From wretchedness, and woe, and want, and grief." 
 
 124 
 
" My Lord," said I, "see yonder willow tree, 
 
 Beneath whose bending limbs we dimly see 
 
 Some children playing in the evening shade, 
 
 While, just beyond in mist, all objects fade ? 
 
 I would, my Lord, that thou would'st take me there ;- 
 
 That home, whate'er it be, I glad will share !" 
 
 The full moon rose upon the Eastern hills. 
 
 And bathed in silvery light the lakes and rills. 
 
 As fast we pressed upon our winding way : — 
 
 And scents of ripened fruit and new mown hay. 
 
 And water lilies mingled in the breeze, 
 
 While dew drops glistened in the leafy trees. 
 
 High up the vaulted sky the bright moon soared. 
 
 While sparkling waters o'er the mill-dam poured. — 
 
 At length, we reached the cherished place of rest. 
 
 And, in my heart I said, " may God be blessed !" 
 
 While yet I lingered on the grassy lawn, 
 
 I turned, and Lo ! my faithful Guide was gone ! — 
 
 And then, his lesson did unfold to me, 
 
 For he had led me 'neath mine own shade tree. 
 
 125 
 
LITTLE BOTHERS. 
 
 WHAT care I for the little fly, 
 That round my ear doth flit ; 
 For soon the saucy thing will die, 
 Then that's the last of it. 
 
 What care I for the little lie, 
 
 On me my neighbors tell ; 
 For like the little, buzzing fly, 
 
 It soon will die as well. 
 
 What care we for the little flea. 
 That nips our flesh at night ; 
 
 We raise the sheet — away goes he. 
 When dawns the morning light. 
 
 To sufier wrong but makes us strong,^ 
 To bear great sorrows brave ; 
 
 The pangs will be forgotten long 
 Before we reach the grave. 
 
 Our plants of grief make golden sheaf,, 
 Tho' each plant give us pain ; 
 
 We there may find the fairest leaf, 
 And shell the richest grain. 
 
 126 
 
o 
 
 TO LUE. 
 
 I H ! the stars shine so bright, 
 Through the dim of the night ; 
 The moon is just sinking from view ; — 
 Wearied workmen take rest, 
 While in sweet slumber blessed, 
 Yet, I am still thinking of Lue. 
 
 Oh ! I wonder if she 
 
 Is now thinking of me, 
 Or viewing yon emblems of light ; — 
 
 Oh ! say, twinkling star. 
 
 That gleams from afar. 
 Is she thinking of me to-night? 
 
 At her window go peep, 
 
 And if she's asleep, 
 And silently dreaming, you see ; 
 
 On her brow cast thy ray. 
 
 And then, come, come away. 
 And tell me she's dreaming of me ! 
 
 Is her heart yet as true. 
 
 And unchanging as you, 
 Oh ! star of etherial sky ? 
 
 Does the same sparkling glow 
 
 Of affection still flow. 
 When absent as when she is nigh ? 
 
 Yes, my own darling Lue — 
 Thou art faithful and true — 
 
 Thy love is unchanging, I know ! 
 I believe 'twill be mine. 
 When the stars cease to shine, 
 
 As years of Eternity flow ! 
 127 
 
HIDE A\E rROA\ A\YSELr. 
 
 HIDE me from myself, Kind Spirit, hide ! 
 Guide me to some secluded, sacred spot 
 Where I may safe abide : 
 For I am weary of myself — my outer self — 
 My carnal self, for, yet, in all my sin. 
 My soul within. 
 Is uncorrupted still. 
 
 It is this house of flesh, in which the demons dwell, 
 And often fill each chamber with the fumes of hell. 
 
 From these misguiding spirits I do seek release 
 Oh ! cast them out. Kind Spirit, and give me peace ! 
 Oh ! make me wholly free — 
 Take them away — take me away ; — 
 On bended knee I pray, 
 Take them away ! 
 
 Take me to some cold, sparkling. 
 Mountain stream — 
 Hide me beside the rocks. 
 Where I may see the pebbles gleam 
 Beneath the crystal waters on the pearly sand : — 
 Take my hand. Kind Spirit — take thou my hand ! 
 
 See yonder towering peak. 
 Based with mighty rocks and capped with snow, 
 Adown whose breast the icy waters flow ? — 
 'Tis thither I would go — 
 Take me there. Kind Spirit — take me there ! 
 
 When we shall reach that hallowed spot, 
 And I have drank the healing draught, 
 'Twill cool my tongue — 'twill calm my brow : — 
 Take me, Kind Spirit — take me now ! 
 
 128 
 
THE HAUNTS OP A\Y CHILDHOOD. 
 
 THEY'VE torn the old brick home away — The well— 
 The grand old well — the great, deep, cheering well, 
 Where I have gorged the sweating jug. 
 Is filled with rubbish to the very brim. 
 The hewed log shop, just by the river bank, 
 Has rotted down — The smoke house, it is gone ; — 
 The orchard trees are dead, and cleared away. 
 And where I played beneath the walnut trees 
 The wash has guttered deep, and thorns have grown ; 
 The " old flood trash " is gone — the " swimming hole " 
 Filled up — The sycamores have tumbled down ] — 
 The floods of forty years have washed away 
 The banks, and willows grow where once I played 
 Upon the turf, and chased the bumble-bee. 
 
 I leave the old play grounds of boyhood's days, 
 And wander to my childhood's secret haunts : — 
 The river road, along the stony hills. 
 Is no more used — The old log bridge is gone ; — 
 The cabin where old Boltin used to live, 
 I see no more, but hollyhocks still grow 
 Along the fence, just as they did of yore : — 
 The old beech-tree, beside the road, still lives, 
 And looks just like it did so long ago ; 
 And scars upon its body, still are seen, 
 Where I did carve strange figures on the bark. 
 
 9 129 
 
Now up the winding run I muse along : — 
 The same old rocks are there — " The Cannon Balls,'' 
 On which I've wrote, and wondered how that God 
 Could grind them out so round — The Maple Grove — 
 The Elms, and tangled Vines, are cleared away ; — 
 The " Slate-stone Clifif,'' that roofed far o'er the run, 
 And sheltered me from wind and pouring rain 
 Has caved away — The brook has changed its bed ; — 
 The white soap stone is covered up, but still 
 The hills are there — The little mound is there, 
 That I, in childhood, thought an Indian's grave — 
 And gladly would I name it for my own. 
 
 INTUITIVE PERCEPTION. 
 
 THERE'S something in each hand we clasp 
 That makes us form a notion. 
 To quick withdraw or tightly grasp 
 That hand with love's emotion. 
 
 There's something in each face we scan 
 
 Which native intuition 
 Beholds, and quick we know the man 
 
 And measure his position. 
 
 Some law records each act and thought. 
 
 Each sorrow, sin or pleasure ; 
 And every line is justly wrought, 
 
 For just is Nature's measure. 
 130 
 
THOUGHTS ^SUGGESTED BY A VISIT TO THE 
 
 HOUSES or LORDS AND con/noNS. 
 
 I THOUGHT to see two halls, majestic, grand, 
 Vast in expanse, with Roman arches high ; — 
 Walls of polished granite from every land, 
 
 And vaulted domes that almost reached the sky. 
 
 But modest England, modest ways assume, 
 I find no gaudy show, no gilded walls ; — 
 
 The House of Lords, an unpretentious room. 
 The Hall of Commons, but a common hall. 
 
 But here. Old England breathes, here throbs her heart ; 
 
 The blood is pumped by men of Titled Birth, 
 But vital air the Commoners impart, 
 
 And thus her life pulsates throughout the earth. 
 
 When Britain's Lien shakes his shaggy mane, 
 
 Old England's breast with mighty impulse heaves, 
 
 And God decrees her strength shall never wane 
 Till every nation on the Christ believes. 
 
 God raised this little island in the sea 
 To voice the echoed words of Christ's command, 
 
 To burst the bonds of human slavery, 
 
 And bear the blood-stained Cross to distant^lands. 
 
 My own, beloved America, now glows 
 
 With light, reflected from Old England's shores, 
 
 The same light gleams on Greenland's icy snows, 
 And over India's burning sands it pours. 
 
 131 
 
upon a thousand islands of the sea 
 
 Her banner waves, the big, wide world around ! — 
 Where'er it floats, the heathen bow the knee, 
 
 And praise the living God, a Christ is found. 
 
 England, I love thee, as my Native Land, 
 For am I not an Englishman to day ? — 
 
 Do not my veins, with Britain's blood expand 
 As did my Sires, whose bones now here decay. 
 
 What though when we were young, we did rebel ; — 
 What though to conquer us you vainly tried ; — 
 
 It only proved that Saxon blood will tell, 
 For, rather than be conquered, we had died. 
 
 We then were old enough to be of age. 
 And start a little business of our own ; — 
 
 Besides, you taxed our tea, which made us rage. 
 So in the briny sea the tea was thrown. 
 
 And then, for seven long years we Rebels fought, 
 
 Until our Independence we had won ; 
 But that unpleasantness is long forgot. 
 
 Since we are now Old England's greatest Son. 
 
 Then let Old England, with her Sons unite. 
 And let their holy conflict never cease, 
 
 Until, first planting Liberty and Right, 
 We herald in the age of Love and Peace. 
 
 For God hath made the hand of Britain's Sons 
 To rule the earth, in all the nobler things. 
 
 Until the age of war its cycle runs. 
 
 And man is ruled by Christ, the " King of Kings." 
 
 132 
 
The times are changing, brighter grows God's light ; 
 
 What was, in age of dark, benighted sin, 
 God will not smile upon in age of right, 
 
 Old things must pass away and new begin. 
 
 But one great thought can well engage mankind ; — 
 The world advances by a single step ; — 
 
 One thought well grounded in the mind, 
 
 God sends anothor, which, through ages slept. 
 
 The thought of God himself, He first imparts, 
 And then the thought of Liberty he brings ; — 
 
 The thought of Justice soon awakes men's hearts, 
 And, these all gained, he calls to higher things. 
 
 I hear Him calling now to nobler deeds ; — 
 
 To peace of homes, like angel's homes above ; — 
 
 To higher social purity that leads 
 
 To sweet contentment, harmony and love. 
 
 This selfish age of sin must pass away — 
 We live upon the margin of the new ! — 
 
 I see the dawning of that brighter day. 
 
 And soon the light will flame across the blue. 
 
 A few more bloody wars, perhaps, need be — 
 A few ungodly Kings and Kingdoms fall, 
 
 Bre men are bound in bonds of unity. 
 And universal peace shall govern all. 
 
 "Westward, the Star of Empire takes his way." 
 That Star begins to gleam on Bunker's Hill ; 
 
 When Mother England shall grow old and gray, 
 Her Western Son will wield that Sceptre still. 
 
 133 
 
THE QUEEN'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. 
 
 WRITTEN AT WINDSOR, 
 
 nPHREE score the times and ten, the penciling earth 
 -■■ Has traced his wid'ning lines around thy birth : 
 
 Old Time is passing on, Oh ! Queen, 
 
 Old Time is passing on ! 
 Three times the score and ten, the May month sweet 
 Hath strewn her garlands at thy Royal feet : — 
 
 The May months soon are gone. Oh ! Queen, 
 
 The May months soon are gone ! 
 
 The circling life-lines which the years have made 
 Are blended, rain-bow like, in every shade : — 
 
 The outer lines are gra}^. Dear Queen, 
 
 The outer lines are gray ! 
 And, just beyond the last, dim ring, I see 
 A golden fringe, then — veiled Eternity : — 
 
 Thou soon must pass away, Dear Queen, 
 
 Thou soon must pass away ! 
 
 A few short years, or months may intervene 
 
 E'er England sings, Now God hath saved our Queen : 
 
 For age is gathering on. Loved Queen, 
 
 For age is gathering on ! 
 When thou art dead. Loved Queen, when thou shalt sleep, 
 Then Windsor's woods, and vines, and flowers will weep : 
 
 When thou art gone. Loved Queen, 
 
 When thou art gone ! 
 134 
 
A\Y DEATH. 
 
 IT is so long ago since I was dead, 
 It now seems like a half forgotten dream ; 
 But once upon a time my body died — 
 Died, and my spirit left the cold, stiff form. 
 
 It was upon the bloody battle field ; — 
 
 The enemy had made a quick retreat, 
 
 But still the air was hot with bursting shell, 
 
 And while we rested from our charge, I saw 
 
 A missle crushing through the leafy boughs. 
 
 Which whipped away the spark from burning fuse. 
 
 I saw it shiver off a great oak limb ; — 
 
 I saw it plow the earth in front of me ; — 
 
 I saw it bound, and then I saw no more. 
 
 It struck my breast, and crushed my left ribs in. 
 
 And mangled up the bone, within my arm. 
 
 They layed me 'neath a great oak tree to die ; — 
 
 My comrades gathered 'round : — I could not speak : — 
 
 The bugle called, " Fall in,'' and then all left. 
 
 The Surgeon came, but blood gushed from my mouth 
 
 The fractured lung gurgled beneath my chest, 
 
 And air escaping, puffed my body up. 
 
 And filled my neck until I had no chin. 
 
 The doctor said, " You cannot live, my boy," 
 
 And sadly shook his head, and went away. 
 
 135 
 
And then I lay in silence there alone ; — 
 
 I thought of home, and friends, and she who owned 
 
 My boyish love : — how sad it was to die. 
 
 With no fond soul to watch my parting breath ; 
 
 And what a dreary place it was to lie 
 
 There, wrapped in but my soldier's blanket, gray — 
 
 There in a stranger land — there all alone : — 
 
 There in the great wild woods — there all alone : — 
 
 There 'neath the burning sands — there all alone : — 
 
 With naught to mark my lonely resting place : — 
 
 A soldier's grave, forgotten and unknown. 
 
 And then I thought of heaven and its peace : — 
 
 Of Mother, who, would meet me over there — 
 
 From pain I felt, that I would soon be free, 
 
 And humbly gave my spirit unto God. 
 
 But presently, there came an angel, fair, — 
 One of those noble Sisters God had sent 
 As messengers of love, to dying men. 
 She cut the blood stained shirt and blouse away, 
 And laid my mangled arm on mossy mound; 
 And then she bathed my crimson face and breast, 
 And when the night came on, she went away, 
 But not until she prayed o'er me, with tears — 
 Hot tears, that burned upon my boyish face. 
 
 Now, one by one, the twinkling stars shot forth ; 
 And, while I thus lay gasping — dying there, 
 I wondered which star might become my home : 
 
 136 
 
I felt a dreadful pressure at my heart, 
 
 As though it were confined within a vice, 
 
 And all the arteries seem to choke, and clog. 
 
 Until the beating stopped ; — then one great thud 
 
 Would heave my breast, and all my frame did quake. 
 
 As moments sped away the beating stilled ; 
 
 But I could feel and hear a gurgling there : — 
 
 And then I ceased to breathe, and could not move. 
 
 I felt the night dews gather on my face, 
 
 And drip adown my tender, boyish beard ; 
 
 And all my limbs grew cold, and numbed, and stiflf. 
 
 My eyes were fixed upon one glittering star, 
 
 And had no power to wink, or change their stare. 
 
 My sense of hearing still was most intense ! 
 
 All through the night I heard the Sentinel's Call ; 
 
 And Corporal's passed around their midnight beat ; 
 
 And ever and anon the cannon's roar. 
 
 Buried for a moment, the voice of leaves. 
 
 And the varied notes of the insect world. 
 
 Around the tree the lizards flit and played. 
 And soon grew bold, and crawled upon my breast , 
 And then their slimy forms crept o'er my face : 
 They lingered at my nose, as though to learn 
 If there was breath of life still left in me ; 
 Then, at the corners of my mouth, they licked 
 The curdled blood, until, by fortune's fate, 
 A muffled noise escaped my breathless lungs ; 
 And then, they sped away — not to return. 
 
 137 
 
But soon, a monster spider came instead : — 
 
 He knows, thought I, that maggot flies will come 
 
 At early dawn, to plant their eggs upon 
 
 The corpse, and so begins his web to build. — 
 
 Oh ! wondrous spider, thou — most wondrous wise ! — 
 
 Who taught thee thus to weave thy web at night, 
 
 All ready for thy prey before the dawn ? 
 
 Who told thee that the insects now at rest 
 
 Would soon be buzzing o'er my putrid form. 
 
 And feasting on my eyes and blood stained lips ? — 
 
 These thoughts, and many others, whipped my brain. 
 
 While there I lay immovable, and felt 
 
 The busy spinner, spin, and weave his web. 
 
 He first began upon my thin moustache ; 
 
 Then round, and round, and round my face he sped — 
 
 Knotting his threads upon the downy hair. 
 
 And seemed to draw a hundred lines across 
 
 My eyes, and nose, and round and round my ears ; 
 
 And then he crossed and recrossed them again. 
 
 Between my forelocks and my sprouting beard ; 
 
 And when all this was done he hied away 
 
 Within my ear, and settled down to rest. 
 
 Now, soon the dews began to gather on 
 The fleecy veil, before my death-fixed eyes. 
 And that bright star, ofi" in the vaulted blue, 
 On which mine eyes had rested all the night. 
 Then vanished from my sight and, in its stead, 
 
 138 
 
Ten thousand variegated lights appeared : — 
 Bach tiny dew-drop seemed to form a prism, 
 From which all colors of the rainbow shone, 
 And multiplied a thousand fold, until 
 The very dome of heaven was all ablaze 
 With red, and blue, and green, and purple stars,- 
 In beauty, grand, no language can portray. 
 
 Enraptured by the glowing, blazing sky, 
 I lost all consciousness of life or pain : — 
 A sense of ecstasy, supreme, engulfed 
 My soul. I seemed to move towards the stars, 
 And, then again, pulsate back to the earth ; 
 One moment I would feel myself away, 
 Until the earth appeared a great black ball. 
 Surrounded by a glowing ring of light : 
 And then a thud, and I was back again ; — 
 Back, calmly looking on my own corpse face : — 
 My boyish face, there in the starlight ; — 
 There in the dewy night, and silky veiled. 
 More delicate than human hand could weave' 
 
 And while my spirit thus beheld my form, 
 I felt a something dragging me within. 
 And then a throb, and I again beheld 
 That firmament of variegated stars : — 
 One feeble thread of life still in the form 
 Confined the soul, and lined it back to earth ; 
 But I was dead as man can ever be. 
 Except that cord the angels did not clip. 
 
 139 
 
Just then the stars began to dim and fade : — 
 Before the dawn had reddened up the sky, 
 I heard the sound of footsteps nearing me ; 
 And soon above me bent a faithful friend — 
 Bdward Sebring, — a soldier brave and true, 
 And what he said, was sadly — sadly said : — 
 And, all he said was, "Murray — He is dead !" — 
 
 My soul within me strove, but could not speak ; 
 
 And then he brushed the web from off my face, 
 
 And from his canteen wet my cold, fixed lips. 
 
 And washed away the oozing clotted blood: — 
 
 In doing this he turned me on my side : — 
 
 As from death's grip I felt my heart relieved : — 
 
 It throbbed: — and then I gasped for breath and lived. 
 
 A WHALE IN THE IRISH SEA. 
 
 ' ^ \^\T HAT is that, father ?" " 'Tis a Whale, my son^ 
 V Y The monarch of ocean ; like him there's none 
 Behold, how grandly he ploughs through the sea ! 
 No other fish is so mighty as he." 
 
 " What good does it do for that Monster Whale 
 To lash at the waves with his great broad tail, 
 Or shoot up the water so high in the air? 
 For look, just behind him the sea grows fair !" 
 
 "What good? — Ah ! that is a question, my boy — 
 Perhaps, like Gladstone, he finds it a joy, 
 To show th' small fishes how mighty is he. 
 To stir up a foam in the Irish Sea." 
 
 140 
 
SOA\E DAY. 
 
 TO E. T. C. 
 
 IT seems to me, one day — 
 One day, 
 When Fate 
 Removed thy Staflf, thy Hope, thy Stay ; — 
 One day — 
 " Memento fnorV sings the lay — 
 God sent to thee 
 A Bard, with melody — 
 With Heaven's sweetest lays. 
 To cheer thy lonely way. 
 
 I think that guiding star. 
 
 One day, 
 
 The gate 
 Of Heaven widely pushed ajar ; — 
 
 One day 
 Transported thee to realms afar. 
 
 Where endless Spring 
 Prevails : where Seraphs sing. 
 And naught but harmonies 
 The joyous moments mar. 
 
 That source of mystic thought, 
 
 Some day 
 
 Relate 
 To me, where I may breathe one draught- 
 141 
 
Some day, 
 From Heaven's zephyrs, I have sought 
 
 In vain to find 
 In all the realms of mind ; 
 But in whose lyric maze 
 Thy spirit lives, I wot. 
 
 It seems to me, some how. 
 
 Some day, 
 
 The great 
 Will know thy worth far more than now ;- 
 
 Some day 
 Enshrine with wreaths a marble brow, 
 
 And call that blessed ; 
 But not until sweet rest 
 Is thine ; then will men praise. 
 And weeping willows bow. 
 
 On thy green grave, I trow — 
 
 Some day — 
 
 Too late 
 For thee to see, or hear, or know ; — 
 
 Some day 
 The pensive poet, bending low, 
 
 Will drop a tear, 
 And bless that spot so dear. 
 Though naught but ashes lie 
 In mold'ring vault below. 
 
 142 
 
THE MILLER AND THE A\1LL. 
 
 T^HB " damsel's" all day song is hushed and still ; 
 ■^ The unused picks lay silent on the floor ; 
 The old wood crane has vanished from the mill, 
 And idly stands the mill-stone by the door. 
 
 The old time miller views the silent stone, 
 With tear wet eyes, on it he heaps his praise, 
 
 And claims it has a mission yet unknown, 
 And grander than it filled in former days. 
 
 For thirty years this old man ran the mill. 
 And like an honest miller took his tolls ; 
 
 And not a bag with flour did he fill, 
 
 " But what was better than that made on rolls." 
 
 And all the customers that came and went, 
 Like those of Benjamin, their bags he'd fill 
 
 So full, that every one went home and sent 
 His friends and all his neighbors to that mill. 
 
 And thus the mill was filled with " grists" to grind. 
 And all the day the miller smiled and " tolled," 
 
 And untold was the content of his mind. 
 
 Because the mill kept grinding out the gold. 
 
 And all the night the great wood wheel turned 'round- 
 The falling waters o'er the mill-dam poured ; 
 
 Thus many farmer's grists the miller ground. 
 While cog-wheels rattled and the waters roared. 
 
 143 
 
From day to day the miller richer grew, 
 
 And soon a farm he added to the mill : 
 And horses, cattle — fat pigs not a few, 
 
 Soon filled his barns and grazed upon the hill. 
 
 And in the old mill house across the way — 
 Just by the river bridge — it stands there still — 
 
 The good housewife at midnight oft would pray 
 That God would bless her miller in the mill. 
 
 Around the great mill-pond the children played, 
 Unconscious that their joy would ever cease ; 
 
 There Maud and Jessie wreaths of wild flowers made, 
 While Tom and Jasper stoned the squawking geese. 
 
 But one Spring morn — one sad and fatal day, 
 While Maud was clipping greens along the lane, 
 Sweet Jessie from her sister stole away, 
 
 And no one ever heard her voice again. 
 
 For deep down in the race above the mill 
 
 They found her lifeless form — and cold her brow. 
 
 And dim her eyes — her voice forever still ; — 
 And in her little grave she's sleeping now. 
 
 And e'er the Summer days had come and gone, 
 From grief the Mother pined away and died ; 
 
 And in the old stone churchyard's grassy lawn 
 You'll find her grave, and Jessie's, side by side. 
 
 144 
 
Soon Maud grew up — a handsome maid was she, 
 And married old Squire Dobbin's eldest son, 
 
 While Tom went oflf to war, and thenee to sea. 
 And Jasper took the old stone mill to run. 
 
 But Jasper soon found out, the old time way 
 
 Of grinding grists on stones reduced his " tolls," 
 
 Because the high-toned people now-a-day 
 Demanded " fancy flour made on rolls." 
 
 So, Jasper rolled the big, round stones away, 
 
 And threw the old wood " hurst frame " out the door; 
 
 And not a bolt, or cog, or shaft did stay, 
 
 For Jasper pitched them out from every floor. 
 
 And now the new " turbine " is never still, 
 
 And all the day young Jasper smiles and " tolls," 
 
 And old Squire Dobbin's grandsons come to mill, 
 With Aunt Maud's grists to grind on " Case's Rolls." 
 
 NOT CONGENIAL. 
 
 MY Love, see yonder oak — that noble tree, 
 Which casts its shade far out upon the lea ? 
 " I do, my dear." — " See how that clinging vine 
 
 Doth 'round its body and each limb entwine ?" — 
 " I do, my dear." — " Why not cling thus to me?" — 
 " I would, but you're a sour apple tree." 
 
 " My Love, see yonder time washed beach below, 
 Where trees and vines together once did grow ?'' — 
 
 " I do, my dear." — " See how the waves do dash 
 Against the crumbling earth with maddened clash?" 
 
 " I do, my dear." — " The waters and the sand 
 Will not unite — here. Love — my parting hand !" 
 
 10 145 
 
LEAD A\E. 
 
 (a hymn.) 
 
 MY soul is an-hungered, 'tis fainting to-night, 
 For heavy my burden, and dismal the light ; 
 I fall by the wayside if Thou lead'st me not. 
 Oh ! lead me, dear Jesus, in the way I have sought. 
 
 The darkness grows denser, and by-paths abound, 
 
 I fear I am straying on unhallowed ground ; 
 
 I long but to walk in the pathway of God — 
 
 Oh ! lead me, dear Jesus, in th' way Thou hast trod. 
 
 Oh ! God, I am sinking in miry clay ! 
 
 I am on a by-path ! Oh ! show me the way ! 
 
 Oh ! help me ! Oh ! help me ! the true way to know I 
 
 Oh ! lead me, dear Jesus, in the way I should go ! 
 
 Praise God, I behold the approach of the dawn ! 
 Praise Him, for I feel now my burden is gone ! 
 Praise God, who doth bless when the penitent pray ! 
 Praise Him who leads in the Straight, Narrow Way ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh ! lead me, dear Jesus, Oh ! lead me, I pray ! 
 For Thou are the Light, and the Truth, and the Way I 
 Oh ! lead me, dear Jesus, Oh ! lead me, I pray ! 
 Oh ! guide me, and guard me from day unto day ! 
 
 146 
 
THE MYSTIC VEIL. 
 
 'T^IS strange — 'tis very strange, you'll say, but yet 
 
 * 'Tis true, that ever since my boyish feet 
 Did 'long the banks of Olentangy play, 
 A MYSTIC VEIL, has ere enveloped me. 
 I see myself a lad there, wand'ring 'lone 
 Beside the river banks and shady vale, 
 And gathering scraps of slate on which I write ; 
 Then, by some strange force led — I know not what — 
 I wander up the rocky, vine-clad stream : 
 And all the while a Something holds me firm. 
 And seems to push me here and there as though 
 I was a leaf or feather in the breeze. 
 
 Then this strange force doth set me 'neath a Cliff — 
 The " Alum Banks"— way up the " North Hill Field." 
 Where two small streamlets join, and form a brook, 
 And there it makes me linger long alone, 
 Sometimes from early morn 'till setting sun ; 
 And all the while this something seems to talk 
 To me ; not in a voice the ear might catch, 
 But voice that whispers to my inner soul. 
 
 And then I carve strange things upon the rocks. 
 And cut strange figures in the soft soapstone. 
 And write strange thoughts for one so young as me ; — 
 I know not what I write, but still I write, 
 
 147 
 
And leave my scribblings on the scrap of slate 
 Beneath the cliff, 'till people find them there ; 
 And then they watch me, but the Angel Guides 
 Lead me away to seek another haunt. 
 
 I was but seven years of age, I know. 
 Because it was just after Mother died ; 
 And while my little soul was still in grief, 
 And all the people wondered at my ways. 
 And at the things I wrote, and some made sporty 
 Which crushed my little soul almost to death^ 
 "Bor what I did I could not help but do ; 
 And from that day to this that Mystic Force 
 Has never left my form, and never ceased 
 To strive and lead me in the better path. 
 
 When strong temptations rise and darkened mist 
 
 Has gathored 'round until the holy ones 
 
 Are barred from me, and evil spirits guide, 
 
 Yet still without — beyond the darkened cloud, 
 
 I hear sweet voices calling unto me ; 
 
 And when I have broke loose from tempter's chains, 
 
 And opened wide my arms — obeyed their call — 
 
 I see them flying back to me again ; 
 
 I feel their cooling touch upon my brow. 
 
 And seem to hear them weep with heaven's joys ; 
 
 And then some noble thought they give to me. 
 
 148 
 
Sometimes they draw aside this Mystic Shield 
 And let me look far down the coming time ; 
 And then when I would write the things I see, 
 They close the Veil, and dim my hungry eyes, 
 And blot from off my brain these visions bright, 
 Until they are to me like vanished dreams. 
 I seem to stand almost within the grasp 
 Of some great truths — some wondrous things to be ; 
 But still they will not let me know them now, 
 For yet the time hath not full ripened up. 
 
 Some day perhaps they may — some day the Veil 
 May be withdrawn, when I may clearly see 
 The work they long have guarded me to do : — 
 A work, may be, upon this wondrous age — 
 The shifting base of all things temporal — 
 The transit from the Selfish Age of Might, 
 To the Age of Justice, Holiness and Light ; 
 Of which they give me but a fleeting glance. 
 Then close the Mystic Veil and bid me wait. 
 
 Those who but measure Life from what they see. 
 May call this but a fancy of the brain ; 
 But if the whole world laughed, and jeered, and mocked, 
 And in one voice proclaimed me but a fool. 
 Still, would I say that God's unfolding Light, 
 That glows upon the checkered page of Time, 
 Is but reflected from the gleaming Lamps 
 Borne by the hands of Spirits, sent by God 
 As Messengers of Light and Love to man. 
 
 149 
 
These lines they've moved my clumsy hand to write 
 
 While yet the minute hand upon the clock 
 
 Hath pointed oflf but fifteen dits of time ; 
 
 Yet I had not a thought what I would write ; 
 
 And when I seek to draw my pen across 
 
 These lines which men will not believe, tho' true, 
 
 This Veiled Unknown draws 'way my quiv'ring hand, 
 
 And numbs my finger's end, and clouds my mind, 
 
 Till I give up my will. Then back my hand 
 
 Flies to the page and whips the words along. 
 
 While broods of thought come battling at my brain. 
 
 Perhaps a hundred years from now, when men 
 Have learned more of this wondrous Psychic Force, 
 Some one will read these lines and drop a tear 
 For him who lived a Century too soon ; — 
 Who felt the sting from bigotry and sin. 
 And died just when the scarlet-furrowed sky 
 Began to drink God's Sunlight from on High ! 
 
 150 
 
THE WITCH. 
 
 YOU say " There are no Witches now-a-day — 
 That days of Witches long'have passed away : — " 
 But, tell me by what law such a thing could be — 
 God's laws are formed for all Eternity : — 
 If Witches ever lived, as Bibles say, 
 That law that formed them hath not passed away, 
 And so they live as in the ages passed, 
 And so they will, as long as sin shall last. 
 
 They are strange creatures with the devils crammed — 
 Filled with dark spirits of the lost and damned : — 
 Peeping skeletons from the mutt'ring shoals — 
 Disintegrating, heartless, dying souls ; 
 Who into forms of cunning women creep, 
 And there they live, and grin, and snuff, and peep : — 
 And where they rule eternal discord dwells. 
 And home is made a pattern of the Hells ! — 
 
 Such Witches live to-day, I've learned to know, 
 
 And they're the same as those of long ago. 
 
 When man shall study deep the Psychic Force, 
 
 He'll find all powers of Barth there take their source — 
 
 Some may be by the higher spirits lead, 
 
 And such gain knowledge from the mighty dead ; 
 
 But those in whom the evil forces dwell, 
 
 Become the instruments of Death and Hell ! 
 
 151 
 
THE VOICE or LIBERTY. 
 
 A NATIONAL SONG. 
 
 T ONG live the Sons of Liberty !— 
 
 ■*— ' Uplift their banner to the sky — 
 
 Let every traitor bow the knee, 
 
 Or from the land of Freedom fly ! 
 
 From Oceans, Lakes and Mountain peaks — 
 
 From counter, bench and fruitful plains, 
 
 The Voice of Patriotism speaks 
 
 For Justice, Liberty — while God reigns ! 
 
 " Rome sat upon her seven hills. 
 And ruled the world," while she ruled well ; 
 But when the Gods with crushing mills 
 Ground Spartan flesh, then great Rome fell:- 
 Thus might it be with this loved land, 
 Could Saxon arms be bound in chains ; 
 Then up, ye Freemen, bravely stand 
 For Justice, Liberty — while God reigns ! 
 
 No foe so great can ere arise. 
 To trail our banner in the dust ; 
 They may perchance becloud our eyes, 
 While we but falsely in them trust ; 
 But when the Truth and Right is known, 
 The Patriots wash away the stains — 
 They will protect the People's Throne 
 Of Justice, Liberty — while God reigns ! 
 152 
 
Whatever dangers may beset — 
 Whatever foes shall make her bleed, 
 The yeomen, brave, will ne'er forget 
 Their country in its time of need : — 
 The Sons of Toil will rise in might, 
 To strike the foe and break their chains, 
 And guard the banner — bravely fight 
 For Justice, Liberty — while God reigns ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 God reigns ! God reigns ! And He'll protect the free ! 
 Let the hills and mountains echo, Liberty!! — 
 Onward the army — marching o'er the plains ! — 
 We will guard the Old Flag — while God reigns. 
 
 T' 
 
 GREATNESS. 
 
 " Some men are born great, some achieve greatness, 
 And some have greatness thrust upon them.'' 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 *HOSE men from Nature's womb " born great,'' 
 Great greatness in them lie, 
 But should they not get started straight, 
 'Twere great for them to die. 
 
 Greatness, " achieved " by mighty deeds, 
 The world its homage gives : — 
 
 Such greatness guides, upbuilds, and leads ; 
 Adorned and loved it lives. 
 
 But greatness, " thrust upon " a man. 
 
 Possesses no back bone : — 
 It may survive while others plan, 
 
 But falls when left alone. 
 153 
 
HOW nOLL AND I GOT STARTED, 
 
 WHEN Moll and I got married, sir, 
 We lived down in the town ; 
 And rented little cottage from 
 Our good old Parson Brown. 
 
 We bought a bed and bed-stead, 
 
 But no carpets for the floor — 
 Just old stove, chairs, and table, from 
 
 A second handed store. 
 
 And when we got to housekeepin', 
 
 Our money was all spent — 
 No cash to buy the victuals — 
 
 No money for the rent. 
 
 The next day Moll went out to wash — 
 
 I broke stones on the street, 
 And in a day or two we had 
 
 A plenty, sir, to eat. 
 
 And when the rent day came around, 
 
 I went to Parson Brown, 
 And paid him up as proudly, as 
 
 The richest man in town. 
 
 And that's the way that Moll and I 
 
 First started out in life — 
 And Moll's the kind of woman, boys, 
 
 To marry for a wife. 
 154 
 
And soon we had a little sum, 
 
 In stocking laid away ; 
 To pay the rent, if we should need. 
 
 Upon a rainy day. 
 
 And every week we counted up 
 How much that we could spare ; — 
 
 We did not buy the dearest things. 
 But lived on common fare. 
 
 And Mondays, Moll, she put in bank, 
 Five dollars — sometimes more — 
 
 We didn't owe a man a dime. 
 But paid cash at the store. 
 
 And when one year had passed away, 
 
 We had a little son, 
 And that's the way we started, and 
 
 Our family begun. 
 
 Now, Moll could not'go out to wash. 
 
 With baby on her arm, 
 So, with the money in the bank, 
 
 I bought a little farm. 
 
 Five acres was not very much, — 
 The Cabin was not grand ; 
 
 But then it made us feel quite good 
 To own a little land. 
 155 
 
It wan't no big Plantation, but 
 
 It made us feel quite free, 
 To know them logs and shingles all 
 
 Belonged to Moll and me. 
 
 We had a little money left. 
 And bought a mule and cow — 
 
 A hoe apiece for me and Moll — 
 A harness and a plow. 
 
 That Spring our livin' was quite short, 
 But then we gathered greens — 
 
 And Sundays we would have a pot 
 Of pork and boiled white beans. 
 
 And after " Brindle" had a calf- 
 Some time along in May, 
 
 We sold a pound of butter, and 
 Ten quarts of milk a day. 
 
 And then with butter-milk and pones, 
 We lived along quite smart. 
 
 And saved the cash, the cow brought in 
 To buy a market cart. 
 
 We planted that five acre farm, 
 
 And when it all was done. 
 We owed no man a penny — that's 
 
 How Moll and I begun. 
 156 
 
And Moll she drove to market, sir, 
 
 On every other day ; — 
 The cash we got was put in bank — 
 
 We had no rents to pay. 
 
 And every other day my Moll 
 Would help me plant and hoe ; — 
 
 It made her feel right good, she said. 
 To see the cabbage grow. 
 
 And while we hoed there, side by side. 
 We were two happy souls ; — 
 
 We felt fresh, like the lettuce beds, 
 And vines that clum the poles. 
 
 And when the dews were on the grass. 
 
 At rising of the sun, 
 It made our hearts rejoice to see 
 
 How high the beans had run. 
 
 The pumpkins on the pumpkin vines, 
 
 I never shall forget — 
 And them big crook-neck squashes, boys, 
 
 I'm thinking of them yet. 
 
 The melons and the citrons, I 
 Can count them every one ; — 
 
 I always went to see them at 
 The rising of the sun. 
 157 
 
We had one great big melon, then — 
 
 The finest ever seen, 
 But it was "plugged" by Jones' boy, 
 
 While it was yet quite green. 
 
 When Moll she seed him sneakin' round, 
 She pitched " Phil " on my lap, 
 
 And chased him through the brier patch, 
 But didn't catch the chap. 
 
 But, " Maje," our dog, got after him. 
 And sheered him most to death ; — 
 
 And Moll she hollered " Cic !— Maje, Cic !"- 
 Till she was out of breath. 
 
 Now, Phil, our boy, grew mighty fast. 
 
 Just like our garden truck ; 
 And from his basket he would watch 
 
 The old hens scratch and cluck. 
 
 He was a dreadful good boy, Phil, 
 
 And never used to cry. 
 Unless he had the colic. 
 
 Or got onions in his eye. 
 
 He cufied the hungry skeeters, that 
 
 Kept buzzing round his ear ; 
 And not a bee, a bug, a wasp, 
 
 Did Philip ever fear. 
 
 158 
 
And when we gathered in the fruit, 
 
 We hung him on a limb, 
 And there he fit the ants that crawled 
 
 Around the basket rim. 
 
 He charged them with his rattle box — 
 
 His bottle and tin gun ; — 
 Moll said he'd make a General — 
 
 He did and never run. 
 
 The papers tell how fast he rode, 
 " When Twenty Miles Away," 
 
 But when he got right in the fight. 
 He quickly gained the day. 
 
 But see ! — ^just soon's as I speak of Phil, 
 Old Moll she wipes her eyes — 
 
 So, I will stop, but b'lieve me, boys, 
 I've told to you no lies. 
 
 But still the squashes glisten, and 
 
 The ripe tomatoes glow. 
 In memory's eye just as they did 
 
 Some fifty years ago. 
 
 These old eyes see the red'ning dawn — 
 
 I stand beside the wall, 
 And over the hill to market, 
 
 I watch my darling Moll. 
 
 Them happy days have long since passed, 
 
 But I have ne'er forgot. 
 How Moll and I got started, there, 
 
 On that five acre lot. 
 
 159 
 
LONGrELLOW. 
 
 THE most ordinary mind may follow Longfellow, 
 In his restful wanderings through Nature's bowers^ 
 In which the leaves and the flowers 
 Are all a-stir with a gentle breeze, 
 That gracefully sways the nodding trees. 
 And plays upon the seas. 
 
 He is a river of clear waters, 
 Deep and wide : — 
 
 The branches of this peaceful stream 
 Pour down from hill and mountain side ; 
 And winding through the glens and leafy shades. 
 Kiss the hungry, pouting lips of budding, 
 Blooming flowers, bending from the glades. 
 
 He leads us through rich pastures. 
 And by the placid waters. 
 And the sons and daughters 
 Of the whole land 
 
 Have walked with him, hand in hand, 
 And drank from the crystal springs — 
 With him talked with the soul of things — 
 And in this converse, all was peaceful. 
 All was harmonious, all was love. 
 Blending like the sweet melodies from above. 
 
 His conceptions are true to Nature — 
 Never fanciful — never overdrawn — 
 Yet, rich in life and vigor as the green lawn. 
 
 His full orbed Sun 
 
 160 
 
Is that of the mellow Autumn — 
 
 That glows upon the ripened fruit and yellow sheaves, 
 
 And paints the leaves 
 
 In colors, gold and gray, 
 
 Ere the frosts have sent the birds away. 
 
 His Light'ning flashes. 
 Are those of a mid-summer twilight, 
 When the sultry day is chased by the frowning night — 
 Leaping high above the steepled mountains. 
 They linger long upon the raptured eye. 
 And illuminate the great deep sky : — 
 Nor, doth one flash full pass away. 
 Until another from the invisible deeps. 
 Bursts, and over the broad arch sweeps. 
 
 His Thunder, is not those deafening peals. 
 That, following quick upon the heels 
 Of forked lightning, 
 Awakes the black robed mountains 
 From their drowsy sleep, 
 And shakes the fountains 
 Of the deep ; 
 
 But, rumbling up from beyond the cloud capped peaks, 
 It murmurs its bass melodies, as when, 
 " The deep mouthed neighboring ocean speaks." 
 
 His Genius was not so brilliant as Poe — 
 His Originality not so manifest as Whittier — 
 His Imagination not so fanciful as Bryant — 
 His Polish not so gilded as Irving — 
 
 u 161 
 
But, in that unaffected simplicity 
 That reaches the soul of things, 
 He was the Peer of them all. 
 
 He soared not upon eagle's wings, 
 Nor courted bats, or butterflies, 
 But mid-way between the earth and skies. 
 His flight was that of a dove, 
 Far from home, returning to its own true love. 
 
 Let us turn to the *' Village Blacksmith " — 
 " Under the spreading chestnut tree. 
 
 The Village Smithy stands " Read on — 
 
 There — can you not see those " sinewy hands " — 
 
 Those rigid muscles — " as strong as iron bands ? — 
 
 Do you not behold that " face like the tan " — 
 
 That honest face of him " who owes not any man ? " — 
 
 *' And, wet with honest sweat " — 
 
 Do you not hear the "bellows blow " — 
 
 And the clanking of the great sledge ? — 
 
 " With measured beat and slow :" 
 
 Now, " the children at the open door, 
 Catching the burning sparks that fly" — 
 Do you not, by impulse, feel 
 To lift the hand, and guard the eye. 
 As the welding sledge splatters the hissing steel?" 
 
 The scene has changed — 
 It is the Sabbath Day, 
 And the Old Smith, in " Sunday Suit," 
 Goes to the Village Church, 
 *' To hear the Parson preach and pray." 
 
 Can you not see him, now, 
 As he " sits among his boys," 
 And the deep furrows on his care worn brow, 
 
 162 
 
Free from the smoke of forge ? — 
 
 Can you not see him bending forth 
 
 To catch the notes of "his daughter's voice?" — 
 
 The echoed voice of his own first Love, 
 
 " That makes his heart rejoice." 
 
 And, when he, devoutly, looks above, 
 
 And with his, hard, rough hand, 
 
 "Wipes a tear from his eyes," 
 
 'Tis a model for a Statue, 
 
 Such as Ang^els fashion in the skies. 
 
 THE CliRlST.nAS CROSS, 
 
 BEHOLD the cross, the living tree ! 
 So very dear to you and me, 
 Foy in this emblem Faith may see 
 The Martyred Christ on Calvary. 
 
 'Twas there our Lord was Crucified ! 
 'Twas there the blood flowed from his side, 
 'Twas there in agony he cried, 
 " 'Tis finished," bowed his head and died. 
 
 And now since eighteen hundred years 
 Have passed away, and hopes and fears 
 Have mingled with a flood of tears, 
 Yet, still the green Cross lives and cheers. 
 
 Thus will it be, whilst Ages fly. 
 The Life and Cross of Christ will cry 
 In anthems that will reach the sky, 
 " 'Twas great to live — 'twas grand to die !" 
 
 163 
 
GARriELD'S PRAYER. 
 
 r 
 
 Urant 
 
 f 
 
 llreat 
 
 llod 
 
 f 
 
 VJracious 
 
 C 
 
 VJiver, 
 
 iilmighty 
 
 iiba 
 
 iibove 
 
 1 Father 
 
 iiround 
 
 i of life 
 
 Auwise 
 
 . Vuler, that 
 
 Y \ness 
 lighteous 
 
 lieigns. 
 
 T\ Thee I 
 
 llear 
 
 '\ Father 
 
 Aound 
 
 F 
 
 1 reedom 
 
 ■ ^ 
 . ather 
 
 . . or ever- a 
 
 ■ ^ my 
 
 . . or tress. 
 
 ^ Thy Throne 
 ■^ 1 wait. 
 
 . . orgive 
 
 . n all 
 
 . . do amiss. 
 
 . nstall 
 
 . . pray 
 
 my enemies. 
 
 . n 
 
 p iacf_ 
 ijvery good 
 
 1 H 
 -Undure 
 
 Tp ed the na- 
 |-^ tion lives. 
 
 ijvery 
 
 '~\ will in 
 
 . Jvil thought 
 
 ■p death 
 
 t. ijvery 
 
 . -/and 
 
 [without' 
 . -/ing'ring 
 
 T Patriots 
 
 Alight, 
 
 moments 
 
 . ^et Thij 
 
 thought is 
 
 . Jove 
 
 . -/ispel the 
 
 Jea.th-like 
 
 ■ ^ illuminates 
 1 the 
 
 . -'arkness. 
 
 1/efeud 77iy 
 
 ' \ for those 
 1 most 
 
 . -'ear ones. 
 
 oppression. 
 
 
 
 
 
 This complex acrostic reads from left to right, and also from the top downwards. 
 The italicized words should be read from left to right ; the words in small type in the 
 vrrtical reading only. 
 
 It is here preserved as a literary curiosity. It is no small task to write a five- 
 line acrostic, but when the same words are made to form two distinct compositions 
 the difficulty is multiplied by a constantly increasing ratio. 
 
 164 
 
THE IMPRISONED LOVERS. 
 
 A LEAP YBAK STORY. 
 
 ? T^WAS on a pleasant Autumn day, 
 
 *■ The sun shone bright in cloudless sky, 
 
 Two Lovers wandered far away, 
 Beside a cliflF-bound mountain high. 
 
 They plucked wild flowers along the banks — 
 They rowed and rocked in log canoe, 
 
 And many little loving pranks 
 They played, as playful lovers do. 
 
 They wrestled on the pearly sand, 
 They gathered shells along the shore — 
 
 On moss-grown cliff — hand clasped in hand, 
 They listened to the waters roar. 
 
 So heav'nly chaste and pure in mind, 
 So filled with love and child-like mirth, 
 
 Angels would leave their home behind 
 To share these Lovers' joy on earth. 
 
 For John was all of manliness. 
 
 And Kate had naught but love to give ; — 
 If all were such, this life were bliss. 
 
 And heav'n a dreary place to live. 
 
 Oh ! shades of Paradise above ! — 
 Oh ! Chastity and Love combined ! — 
 
 But few have ever found such love, 
 But few such love will ever find. 
 165 
 
They watched the shadows longer grow, 
 And, one by one, they fade away : — 
 " Come, Kate," — said John, " We now must go, 
 'Tis late, we must not longer stay." 
 
 " The sun is sinking in the west, 
 
 'Tis time that we were off", my dear :" — 
 
 " What matters that, John, let us rest — 
 The darkness need not make us fear." 
 
 '* But when the shades of night come on 
 
 The air grows damp — you may catch cold :"- 
 
 " The shades, nor^damp, won't hurt, dear John, 
 While thy dear arms around me fold." 
 
 *' But then your mother knows we're out — 
 She'll think our ling'ring very queer:" — 
 
 *' We ought to know, what we're about. 
 
 Sit still, dear John, this is L^Eap Year!" 
 
 *' And fast the months are passing by — 
 The leaves put on a golden hue ; — 
 Let me improve my time, and try 
 To speak my loving heart to you." 
 
 " Leap Year, Ah ! yes, it is, dear Kate ; 
 I'll not assume your rights to claim ; 
 And if we reach home very late, 
 
 I'll tell your Ma you were to blame.'' 
 166 
 
And then within Kate's guardian care, 
 Beneath the starry sky above, 
 
 He felt the mellow Autumn air. 
 And listened to her words of love. 
 
 ^' Dear John, I'll wrap you in my shawl — 
 Now on my lap please lay your head ; — 
 And let the mellow moonlight fall. 
 And on thy face its soft beams shed." 
 
 *' Deep down within those loving eyes, 
 Reflected from the heavens above, 
 I want to view the star-lit skies : — 
 
 Deep down within those eyes, my love." 
 
 " Those curling locks of auburn hair, 
 I want to see the breezes kiss ; — 
 To look on one so lovely, fair, 
 
 'Tis heaven, John— 'tis more, 'tis bliss." 
 
 " Now let me part this moustache John, 
 Like humming bird, that honey sips 
 From blooming flowers, I'd linger on 
 This parted rose — these dewy lips." 
 
 " Oh ! John, I fear that you'll take cold, 
 Now lean your head upon my breast ; — 
 Draw near to me and I will fold 
 
 My wrap around you — there dear rest." 
 167 
 
" Now let me count the twinkling stars, 
 That in these sparkling eyes do glow ; — 
 There's — Venus, Jupiter, and Mars, 
 A little Universe below." 
 
 " But Katie dear, the hours have flown — 
 The clock strikes ten — 'tis very late ; 
 But still we linger here alone — 
 We'd better go, my darling Kate.'' 
 
 " The folks, may think, that we are drowned. 
 Or lost within these mountains high — '' 
 
 " If we were lost, and never found, 
 
 'Twere sweet with thee, dear John, to die." 
 
 " So rest, and let us talk of love -^ 
 
 My darling one, draw near to me ; — 
 Draw near to me, like nestling dove, 
 Ivike mated dove, I'm true to thee." 
 
 " I love you, John — love only you, 
 
 I've loved you from my very youth ; 
 My deepest love you never knew — 
 The stars all know I speak the truth." 
 
 " Now, tell me John — this hand is mine. 
 And let me name next New Year's day, 
 And all I have shall then be thine. 
 
 And we will love for Aye — For Aye ! " 
 168 
 
" Sweet Kate, like flowers, with dew drops kissed- 
 Like spray that forms the bright rainbow, 
 
 You are a life inspiring mist 
 
 I love yoti, dear — but we must go.'' 
 
 " The clock is pealing out again, 
 
 The clouds are gathering in the West ; 
 Dear Kate, we'll be caught in the rain "— 
 She smothered him upon her breast. 
 
 " Oh ! never mind the>torm, dear John, 
 And let the midnight hours fly ; 
 I'll stay with you, till morning's dawn, 
 'Midst pouring^^rain, and blackened sky.'' 
 
 " Or lightning's flash and thunder's roar ! — 
 My love is like the ocean's wave, 
 That beats against the rock bound shore — 
 In thee it seeks a home or grave ! '' 
 
 " Tell me you'r mine, John, now — just now ! "- 
 She drew him to her bosom fair. 
 And sweetly kissed his manly brow, 
 While o'er him fell her golden hair. 
 
 And John in meditation lay. 
 
 And darkness gathered o'er the skies ; — 
 Kate watched the starlight fade away 
 
 Deep down within her her Lover's eyes. 
 169 
 
John thought to open out his heart, 
 
 And did not see the clouds spread o'er : — 
 " Sweet Kate," said he — then both did start — 
 A vivid flash ! — a deafening roar ! — 
 
 Now fierce the winds began to blow. 
 
 The dark clouds hid the great town clock, 
 
 And by a Cave the Lover's go, 
 
 Beneath a mountain's sheltering rock. 
 
 The rain in mighty torrents fell, 
 
 And down the mountain's side it poured : 
 
 And rapidly the stream did swell, 
 Till round the gaping Cave it roared. 
 
 And there in love's enchanted dream, 
 They heard the dreadful thunders break, 
 
 And saw the vivid lightning gleam. 
 
 And felt the rocks beneath them quake. 
 
 Then o'er the banks the water dashed. 
 And flooded all the low land ground : 
 
 And in the mountain Cave it splashed, 
 And eddied round, and round, and round. 
 
 And higher dashed the maddened wave. 
 And at the entrance roared and beat ; 
 
 And there, Imprisoned in the Cave, 
 The Lovers sought a safe retreat. 
 170 
 
Back, through the dismal hole, they crawled- 
 The rushing waters pressed them on — 
 
 By rugged mountain rocks enwalled, 
 Still, Kate kept talking L/Ove to John. 
 
 Thus, on and on, the Lovers creep — 
 
 Kate clings to John who feels the way — 
 
 Then up a rocky stairway, steep. 
 
 They climb beyond the dashing spray. 
 
 And then again in love's embrace. 
 They sat within this dreadful Cave ; 
 
 With arms entwined — face pressing face. 
 They fear that they have found their grave. 
 
 Now, John unfolds his heart to Kate, 
 He tells her of his ardent love : — 
 
 He said — " If death shall seal our fate, 
 Thou shalt be mine, dear Kate, above." 
 
 " But I am poor, dear Kate, you know, 
 Or I had asked thee for thy hand : — 
 Ah ! yes, and claimed thee long ago — 
 The proudest man in all the land.'' 
 
 ^' Tis twenty years ago, dear Kate, 
 Since Father left, with all his gold. 
 And we have never learned his fate — 
 It is a mystery still untold. 
 171 
 
" Twas on a dark and stormy night — 
 
 My Mother says — the floods ran high — 
 The Southern arms were put to flight, 
 And Federal Cavalry drew nigh." 
 
 " The people say, for forty days. 
 
 The deluge hid the valley lands ; 
 And now, perchance, my Father lays. 
 With all his gold beneath the sands." 
 
 " And when the Federal Armies came — 
 Just three days after Father left, 
 They burned the town, and in the flame. 
 We were of home, and all bereft." 
 
 " I then was but a child of three. 
 
 But even yet, remember well, 
 
 How Mother, bending over me. 
 
 Hot tear-drops on my eye-lids fell." 
 
 " And how she bore me through the wood, 
 And rested on the pine-clad hill, 
 And how we met Aunt Mary Hood, 
 At Uncle Jasper's Valley Mill," 
 
 " And Mother had a hard time, dear ; 
 We have been very poor, you see — 
 She struggled on from year to year, 
 Till now she wholly leans on me." 
 172 
 
" And so, I have not spoke my heart, 
 
 But hoped and dreamed that some kind fate, 
 Might never let us die apart — 
 
 'Twere sweet to die with thee, dear Kate." 
 
 *' But, John, my lyove, we must not die 
 Within this dreadful, dreadful place ; — 
 Now let us kneel to God on High, 
 
 And ask deliverance, strength and grace." 
 
 The Lovers knelt in fervent prayer, 
 Amidst the dark and dismal gloom : 
 
 Their voices echoed on the air, 
 
 Like mournful murmurs from the tomb. 
 
 But hark ! — They^hear a deaf'ning howl, 
 Far down the awful cavern deep ; — 
 
 Some hideous beast — some monster fowl, 
 They thought had wakened from his sleep. 
 
 And now they see two sparks of light, 
 Like glowing balls in dungeon cell ; 
 
 As they approach they grow more bright, 
 Like devils' lamp — in dragon hell. 
 
 " You have a pistol, John," — said Kate — 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I have, I had forgot " — 
 " Then shoot the beast ere 'tis too late, 
 
 Be quick, quick, John ! — don't miss the shot !" 
 173 
 
With hunter's aim the hammer fell, 
 
 Away the deadly bullet sped ; — 
 The weapon did its work full well, 
 
 With frightful scream the beast fell dead. 
 
 The pistol flash lit up the dome, 
 
 That arched above them, high and grand ; 
 And showed the paths where wild beasts roam, 
 
 Imprinted on the rocks and sands. 
 
 The bounding echo died away, 
 
 Far down the unexplored Cave, 
 That never knew the light of day, 
 
 Then all was silent as the grave. 
 
 No match — no fire — no wood — no ray 
 
 Of light — nothing but midnight gloom, 
 And hungry, prowling, beasts of prey : — 
 " Oh ! horrid fate ! — Oh ! hopeless doom ! " 
 
 " Oh ! do not be discouraged dear, 
 
 That God, who heard young Daniel pray,. 
 Is ready now our prayer to hear — 
 We yet shall see the light of day." 
 
 " I know it John — Oh ! don't give up, 
 
 For something seems to whisper, low — 
 'Tis well to drink this bitter cup. 
 From it your joys will overflow." 
 174 
 
" Look ! John, I see a mystic light ! '' — 
 " Yes I Yes ! and I, just over there " — 
 
 " And, now a form in robe of white ; — 
 And now a face divinely fair." 
 
 " Oh ! spirit of this dismal cell, 
 
 From whence ? What can thy errand be? — 
 Be thou from heaven — be thou from hell, 
 We welcome thee — we welcome thee!'' 
 
 He points his finger to his feet, — 
 
 He whispers " Come !" — " Come to this spot !" 
 Fear not, my children, I entreat ! — 
 
 " Come to this spot ! — Fear not ! — Fear not ! " 
 
 The passing moments seem like years, 
 There in the darkness 'midst the dead ; — 
 
 But soon the spectre disappears. 
 And they are left in silent dread. 
 
 The morning sun the daylight brought ; — 
 The black clouds still their torrents pour, 
 
 But Kate and John behold them not, 
 Nor hear the rushing storm winds roar. 
 
 The sleeping villagers awake — 
 
 Two mothers seek each other's arms. 
 
 And weep beside that new made lake, 
 That spread across the low-land farms. 
 175 
 
" Just twenty years ago to-day," — 
 
 John's Mother said" — beneath this tree, 
 I wept for him who went away, 
 And never more returned to me." 
 
 " And now, Oh, God ! my boy is gone ! — 
 Oh, fatal day ! — Oh, chastening rod ! — 
 Where is my noble, noble John? — 
 
 Bring back my boy, Oh, God !— Oh, God !"- 
 
 And Katie's Mother's eyes shone wild — 
 
 With upstretched arms she knelt in prayer — 
 " Oh, God bring back my only child ! — 
 
 Where is my Katie? — Where? Oh, where?? "- 
 ^ ■^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Now, many homes were swept away, 
 A score of lives were lost, 'tis said ; 
 
 And many a dreary night and day. 
 The people hunted for the dead. 
 
 But some believed that Kate and John 
 
 Had not been drowned, because the stream 
 
 Did not rise high before the dawn. 
 
 And still they clung to Hope's fair dream. 
 
 Some said it was a runaway — 
 
 Their Mothers, this, disdained to think ; 
 
 And many thought perhaps they may. 
 Have fallen from some dreadful brink. 
 176 
 
And so they searched the mountains 'round :- 
 One day they spied a great black bear, 
 
 And by him scraps of bones they found, 
 And lock of wavy, golden hair. 
 
 " This is Kate's hair," they all agree : — 
 They find a mangled ring of gold : — 
 And this John's ring believed to be — 
 And now to them the story's told. 
 
 And so they bear the tidings 'way. 
 
 To grief bowed Mothers, friends and all ; — 
 
 And sad, indeed, that burial day — 
 Two fun'rals preached without a pall. 
 
 In cedar box, scarce two feet long, 
 They laid the shattered bones away ; 
 
 And o'er it sang a mournful song. 
 And thus was buried Hope's last ray. 
 
 " Kate, this must be the ' Haunted Cave,' 
 We've heard so many talk about. 
 And no man e'er has dared to brave 
 The dreadful place, or search it out.'' 
 
 " Tis said that some have entered here, 
 But dying groans and spectres white. 
 Have filled them with such ghastly fear, 
 The bravest soon were put to flight." 
 
 12 177 
 
" But John, that face was heavenly fair — 
 That voice was loving, sweet and low ; — 
 And let us creep just over there, 
 To where the spirit bid us go." 
 
 They move along on bended knee — 
 They feel around them as they go — 
 _ They stop ! — " What can this object be? " — 
 "Is it a stone?" — They do not know. 
 
 They feel it o'er, above, beneath — 
 A finger tap — The sound is dull : — 
 
 They touch a double row of teeth — 
 " It is — It is a human skull ! " 
 
 " Oh spirit of this ' Haunted Cave,' 
 
 Come back ! Come back ! '' They vainly cry !- 
 " Tell us if this must be our grave? — 
 
 Must we within this dungeon die? " 
 
 " That spirit came to mock us, Kate, 
 
 There is no hope — we're doomed to death ; 
 We must accept our horrid fate. 
 And only wait the parting breath." 
 
 " The beasts of prey will soon devour. 
 But we shall find sweet peace, my love. 
 And may God hasten quick the hour, 
 And bear us to His home above." 
 178 
 
*' And now, Oh God ! to Thee we give 
 Our souls in this last earthly sleep, 
 And all our sins wilt Thou forgive. 
 
 And shield those loving ones that weep !" 
 
 They tenderly embrace and kiss, 
 Then fall upon the stony floor ; — 
 
 There wrapped in sleep's unconsciousness. 
 With Guardian Angels bending o'er. 
 
 Kate dreams of dungeons, black as night, 
 And cavern homes, and thieving bands ; — 
 
 Of wandering spirits, clothed in white. 
 And murderers with blood-stained hands. 
 
 Of dying men and piteous groans — 
 Of robbers' tools, and pots of gold. 
 
 And bleached and scattered dead men's bones- 
 Of fire and smoke that densely rolled. 
 
 And then she saw the bright sun rise 
 From 'neath the eastern, towering hills. 
 
 And cast his beams on cloudless skies. 
 And all the earth with gladness thrills. 
 
 And then she dreams of festive day, 
 Of Palace Home, and Happy Bride : — 
 
 Of years, that sweetly pass away. 
 With children playing by her side. 
 179 
 
And thus the hours pass on, and on, 
 And bright, the heavenly vision glows, 
 
 Till she, in sleep, talked lyove to John, 
 And thus awoke him from repose. 
 
 Two flames of fire above them stream — 
 A pistol clicks — a sudden flash — 
 
 A roar — a leap — a horrid scream — 
 Another leap — a plunge — a splash : — 
 
 A struggle in the deeps below — 
 A dying groan, and all is still ! — 
 
 Yet none but God can ever know 
 
 How these red flames did two hearts chill. 
 
 The Lovers kiss in darkness there, 
 
 By sleep refreshed, their hope revives : — 
 
 In whispered notes of humble prayer. 
 They plead to God to spare their lives. 
 
 They crawl about upon the stones. 
 To faintest sound they bend an ear ; — 
 
 Beneath them rattle human bones. 
 But these no longer make them fear. 
 
 A garment rent in twain they find : — 
 " It has a pocket, here John — see ! " — 
 
 He " sees " with fingers of the blind : — 
 " I find a box — what can it be? " 
 180 
 
Please let me take it, Katie dear ; " — 
 To him the box she did not trust : — 
 She opened it, 'twixt hope and fear — 
 'Tis filled with matches, dry as dust. 
 
 Now, Kate removes her " grecian bend," 
 And on the rocks the cotton spreads, 
 
 And John, their handkerchiefs did rend, 
 And tore his cotton vest in shreds. 
 
 With trembling hand, Kate draws the match, 
 And then both heave a mournful sigh : — 
 
 The match is turned — another scratch — 
 No flame ! — "Oh, hopes but born to die ! " — 
 
 And now another match is tried : — 
 
 No flame! — And thus the moments passed ;- 
 The empty box is laid aside, 
 
 But hope with Kate clings to the last. 
 
 She sat in silent prayful thought, 
 
 But still her mind was much confused, 
 
 And, though death seemed their certain lot, 
 Yet, thus within herself she mused. 
 
 " Why did I see the bright sun rise ? — 
 Why did that angel o'er me bend ? — 
 Do heavenly messengers bear lies ? — 
 Ah ! no, I'll trust them to the end." 
 181 
 
'' And John to me his Love has told : — 
 Oh ! that were sweet, indeed, to know ; 
 More precious far than mines of gold — 
 Where my Love goes, there will I go." 
 
 " And my Love's joy shall be my joy. 
 
 And my Love's home shall shelter me ; 
 And my Love's boy shall be my boy. 
 For so I dreamed it was to be." 
 
 And thus she reasoned — time passed on — 
 At length a thought flashed o'er her mind : 
 " Oh, let me have your pistol John ! " — 
 To her request he was resigned. 
 
 " Yes, death," said he " will end our pain ; 
 'Twere best our spirits should be free ; — 
 Now let the bullet pierce my brain, 
 And then, dear Kate, you'll follow me.'' 
 
 Kate grasped the weapon, yet spoke not — 
 With steady hand the hammer raised, 
 
 And 'neath the fibrous pile she shot. 
 Then up the burning cotton blazed. 
 
 John glanced with mingled joy and fright 
 In Katie's sparkling eyes, the while 
 
 Her face was lit with Heaven's light. 
 And beautified by Faith's sweet smile. 
 
 182 
 
He spread his arms for one embrace — 
 " No time," said Kate, *' to kiss, dear John 
 
 Now while the flames each other chase, 
 Haste ! Let us pile the dry sticks on !" — 
 
 High up the dome the bright sparks soar — 
 The dry wood snaps and redly glows ; 
 
 In music tones the white flames roar. 
 Whilst back the dreaded darkness flows. 
 
 Now, what an awe-inspiring sight ! — 
 A great arch spans the mighty hall, 
 
 And pearly crystals, sparkling bright, 
 lyike diamonds gleam upon the wall. 
 
 And all around the great arched dome, 
 Ten thousand pendant star lamps cling, 
 
 That glitter like the fairies' home. 
 Or Bridal Chamber of a King. 
 
 And now they look about them there : — 
 Here lies a skull — and there a shoe ; — 
 
 And here a lock of tangled hair. 
 And there a rended coat of blue. 
 
 And here another skull — near by 
 
 A monster catamount lay dead ; 
 And just half way, from eye to eye, 
 
 A leaden ball had pierced his head. 
 183 
 
And bleached and beast-gnawed bones lay round 
 A heaping pile of dry, pine wood ; 
 
 By it a woodman's ax was found — 
 All this they little understood, 
 
 And now upon the brink they stand, 
 
 Where they had climbed the night before ; 
 
 With flaming torches in each hand 
 They viewed the silent waters o'er. 
 
 That entrance to the Cave below, 
 
 Was buried in the waters deep. 
 For now the wavelets 'round them flow. 
 
 And o'er the dusty stones they creep. 
 
 " Look there," said Kate, " I see our boat, 
 
 Behind that rock, John, don't you see?" — 
 
 " Yes, Kate, and heavens — there's a goat, 
 Just by it on a stump of tree !" 
 
 " A rope is tied around the stump. 
 
 And to the rope the goat's confined : — 
 Well, this is fortune, Kate — Humph ! — 
 Goat's milk for tea, if you don't mind." 
 
 Half hid beneath the floating grass, 
 Kate spied a fish pole drifting there : — 
 
 She drew it forth — a great black bass 
 Then glistened in the torch-lit air. 
 184 
 
John threw the long line 'round the rock, 
 The hook caught on the drifting boat : 
 
 And soon he moored it to their dock, 
 
 Then brought to shore the bleating goat. 
 
 The waters breathe a gentle tide, 
 
 Ten thousand objects rise and fall ; — 
 
 The Cave so vastly long and wide. 
 They cannot see the distant wall. 
 
 Now, both within the littte boat, 
 
 John rows it through the drifting mass, 
 
 And shocks of corn around them float. 
 And many a household thing they pass. 
 
 A flock of geese swim in the straw, 
 A lot of ducks are moving 'round, 
 
 A mewing cat reached out his paw, 
 And then a little dog they found. 
 
 All these they put within the boat. 
 And landed them upon the shore ; 
 
 Then geese, and ducks, and dog, and goat, 
 Just made that old Cave ring and roar. 
 
 They danced around the shining blaze. 
 The gleaming light rejoicing o'er ; — 
 
 All sang their native song of praise, 
 As they had never sung before. 
 185 
 
And now John gathers in some hay, 
 And fresh cut corn still in the shock, 
 
 That drifted 'round the cavern bay, 
 And then Kate feeds their little flock. 
 
 " Moses," the dog, and " Noah," the cat, 
 Act much like, ruling King and Count, 
 
 ■ As, side by side, they peacefully sat. 
 And made a meal on catamount. 
 
 A cupboard stored with useful wares — 
 A barrel filled with dry, white flour ; — 
 
 And beds and blankets, stands and chairs, 
 They gathered up within an hour. 
 
 Kate cooked the fish and baked the bread, 
 John " milked " and put the tea pot on. 
 
 And soon a sumptuous feast was spread — 
 And Kate kept talking Love to John. 
 
 The silver coffee pot shone bright. 
 
 The sweet scents rose from steaming broth; 
 
 The fish was tender, sweet and white, 
 And whiter still the table cloth. 
 
 The honey glistened in the jars, — 
 The rich, ripe fruit was golden fair ; 
 
 Above them gleamed the crystal stars. 
 While cedar flames perfumed the air. 
 186 
 
The little flock now seek repose, 
 And *' Moses " takes the outer stand, 
 
 As though to watch for midnight foes, 
 That might disturb the sleeping band. 
 
 Now, Kate and John sat long at tea. 
 And when the dishes cleared away, 
 
 Fair Katie sat upon John's knee. 
 And wondered was it night or day. 
 
 And then they carefully store near by. 
 The bleached bones of the silent dead ; 
 
 And hang the blankets out to dry. 
 And beat the steaming feather bed. 
 
 The shoes and garments — hair as well, 
 They gather up and hide away. 
 
 For they may have a tale to tell. 
 That we may learn some later day. 
 
 Now, " Moses " watched with patient care, 
 And pricked his ears at slightest sound, 
 
 While " Noah " prowled 'round every where, 
 To see if rats might not abound. 
 
 ' Wild beasts will ne'er approach a light " — 
 Said John — " I've heard the hunters say ; 
 
 So we may rest quite safe to-night. 
 And sweetly dream the hours away." 
 
 187 
 
" And now, sweet Kate, good-night, my dear, 
 May God protect us while we sleep ! " — 
 
 * Good-night ! " Kate whispered in John's ear- 
 " May angel's comfort those who weep ! " 
 
 And now the Lovers sleep awhile. 
 
 And at their feet the bright fire glows : — 
 
 And o'er them loving angels smile. 
 
 While heavenly dreams dispel their woes. 
 
 The night to them — was day without. 
 The noon day sun shone over head, 
 
 And all the people 'round about, 
 
 Were searching for the Lost and Dead. 
 
 The Village, by the Valley Mill, 
 
 The bridge, and all was swept away ! 
 
 And many a home swung 'round the hill, 
 And lodged within the mountain bay. 
 
 And in the Cave's mouth pressed the drift. 
 Until the gaping hole did close ; 
 
 The mingled mass crept up the clifi", 
 And sealed the entrance as it rose. 
 
 Now, " Moses '' barks — the Lovers wake — 
 The sleeping goat jumps to his feet ; — 
 
 The ganders squawk as at daybreak. 
 And *' Noah '' purrs about their feet. 
 188 
 
The laitliful dog stands on the shore, 
 Again he barks, and snuffs the air : — 
 ** Hark John ! — I hear the sound of oar, 
 
 Can some kind friend be coming there ? '' 
 
 " Ah no — dear Kate, 'tis not a boat ; 
 
 'Tis some black creature drifting there ; — 
 Perhaps it is another goat, 
 
 Or, yet, may be a mountain bear." 
 
 John drew his pistol, then he cried : — 
 
 " Halloo, there ! — Are you beast or man ? "- 
 
 And then a human voice replied — 
 
 " Why, Massa John, I'm Betsey Ann ! " 
 
 "De I/od God bless you, Massa John, 
 I thought you was a robber band ; — 
 Now dis poor nigger's comin' on. 
 So quick as she can reach de land." 
 
 " I's been a driftin roun and roun, 
 
 Until my head has gone most wile. 
 And dars'nt make de faintest soun. 
 For fear dat you might kill dis chile." 
 
 She sat upon a great straw bed. 
 
 That, hollowed down, and formed a skiff, 
 All they could see was Betsey's head 
 
 And arms, that pushed away the drift. 
 189 
 
But soon she landed on the brink, 
 And laid her straw bed out to dry ; — 
 
 Kate gave her bread — some milk to drink, 
 And slice of catamount did fry. 
 
 " Oh ! dis am good as mutton hash, 
 De best I'se tasted since I'se bon ; 
 I'se been a eatin' floatin' trash, 
 And gnawin' at de ears o' con." 
 
 " Lod bless you, bless you, Missie Kate ; — 
 And now I'll lay down on de straw ; 
 You need not wash de pot and plate, 
 I'll do de work for you to-mow." 
 
 " That woman, dear, is strong and brave; 
 Although she's black, her soul is white : 
 She was the wife of Father's slave. 
 Who left with him that fatal night.'' 
 
 " My infant lips by her were fed, 
 
 I've clung upon her great strong breast ;- 
 My boyhood steps by her were led — 
 Of all our slaves, she was the best." 
 
 Now, Kate and John went out to fish, 
 Within the great new made, fish pond, 
 
 And there drew out full many a trout, 
 And Kate kept talking Love to John. 
 
 190 
 
And all their woes were happy woes, 
 
 And all their joys were grievous joys; — 
 
 From bitter oft the honey flows, 
 And precious metals have alloys. 
 
 Where could two hearts more truly love? — 
 Where could two souls more deeply feel 
 
 Those ties that spring from Heaven above, 
 And o'er their inward senses steal ! 
 
 That prison Heaven, and yet 'twas Hell ! — 
 Ah ! yes, and still 'twas even more ; — 
 
 'Twas one great, gaping, haunted cell. 
 And yet, 'twas Love's great, open door. 
 
 Now, Katie tells to John her dreams. 
 For, she lived half in spirit sphere ; 
 
 And often caught prophetic gleams, 
 
 And heard strange things no others hear. 
 
 " I dreamed, dear John, last night," said she, 
 *' I stood within a dungeon cell ; 
 And three full moons passed over me. 
 And three kind voices said, ' 'Tis well !' 
 
 *' Three holy angels — one was black — 
 Stood over there — one blew a horn ; — 
 They gave to me an empty sack, 
 And pointed to the drifting corn. 
 191 
 
" And then they showed me three great Seals ; 
 But these they did not break to me ; 
 But pointed to rich, growing fields, 
 And blooming flowers and placid sea." 
 
 Now, Betsy 'woke, refreshed and bright, 
 And Katie told to her the dream : — 
 
 Dat dream has in it lots o' light, 
 For visions am' mo dan dey seem." 
 
 (( 
 
 " Dem three full moons — Ah ! chillen, deah, 
 Dey means a heap — don't faint away — 
 Dey means three months you must stay heah, 
 Befo' you sees de light o' day." 
 
 " Dem angel voices said — 'Tis well! — 
 Oh ! dat should chir you chillen up ; — 
 De Lod has sent dem heah to tell, 
 Dat you will drink from sweet'r cup,'' 
 
 " And dem white angels b'longs to you — 
 Dat black one he b'longs to me ; — 
 Dey come to tell us what to do. 
 And what we must expect to see.'' 
 
 " Dat empty sack de angel gave, — 
 De tootin' ob de Gabril hon, 
 Means you must stay long in de Cave ; — 
 Go gedder up de floatin con ! " 
 192 
 
" And dem three Seals dey did not touch, 
 Means hidden tings dat am to be, 
 But what don't now consarn you much, 
 Dey want to press necessity.'' 
 
 " De growin' fields and bloomin' flowers. 
 And dem smoove waters ob de sea. 
 All means dars comin' happy hours, 
 So chillen, don't discouraged be." 
 
 " Dars lots o' things dat may be foun, 
 Dats drifted from de Valley Stoah ; 
 I seed dem as I floated 'roun, 
 
 Enough to keep us yeah or moah." 
 
 " Den let us heed de angel's hon. 
 And nebber ax de reason why ; 
 But gedder in de goods and con. 
 
 And stack de wood up high and dry." 
 
 And so John rowed him 'round about. 
 And pushed the valued things to shore ; 
 
 And Betsey's strong arm pulled them out, 
 While Katie carpeted the floor. 
 
 She, also, washed the parlor set, 
 
 And hung the pictures up with grace, 
 
 And dried the things, for they were wet, 
 And put the organ in its place. 
 
 3 193 
 
And stood the bureau by the wall, 
 Within an arched and open door, 
 
 That formed a closet, neat but small. 
 With crystal pendants hanging o'er. 
 
 Therein she hung the Sunday clothes, 
 
 Of which John found full many a change- 
 
 The while the blazing pine wood glows, 
 The pot is steaming on the range. 
 
 And now she goes down to the " Store," 
 Then soon she has the supper on, 
 
 And while she hears the beating oar, 
 Her heart keeps beating Love for John. 
 
 She thinks how he will be surprised, 
 When he returns to their new home. 
 
 How nicely she has things devised. 
 Beneath the sparkling crystal dome. 
 
 And now she spreads the table cloth, 
 And placed the silver dishes 'round, 
 
 And seasoned well the steaming broth, 
 And then fresh roasted cofifee ground. 
 
 And sliced the dried beef — fried the j5sh — 
 
 Roasted the squash, and cut the cheese,. 
 And placed the napkins by each dish. 
 
 And baked the rolls and stewed the peas. 
 194 
 
And then she stood upon the brink, 
 
 And loudly called, " Oh, John !— Oh, John ! 
 
 I've something good to eat and drink, 
 'Tis ready now, come John, come on ! '' 
 
 Her voice but echoed through the Cave — 
 
 She listened for the moving oar. 
 But all was silent as the grave. 
 
 And then, much louder than before 
 
 She cried, " Oh, John !— Oh ! John !— Oh ! John !" 
 And then she tore her flowing hair. 
 
 And would have plunged within the pond, 
 But Betsey held her firmly there. 
 
 " He's drowned ! — He's drowned ! — He's dead.I — 
 Oh! — Oh — John ! '' — The echo died away, 
 And then she bowed her throbbing head, 
 And fervently to God did pray. 
 
 " My deah, deah chile, be ob good chir ! — 
 Dis am de openin ob de Seal — 
 Dis am — dis am de fust Seal deah : — 
 De Lod brings Wo befo de Weal ! " 
 
 " Dat dream, deah chile, was from de skies ; 
 It want no nurbus stomach dream ; — 
 Now let me wipe dem weepin eyes. 
 And soon de blessed light will beam." 
 
 195 
 
" De Ivod am good ! — de Lod am true ! — 
 De Lod will keep ! — de Lod will guide ! — 
 De angels hubber ober you ! — 
 
 Dey nebber, nebber lebe yo side ! '' 
 
 " Hark ! dah — I heah de paddle sounds ! " — 
 Kate's face lights up with heavenly beams, 
 And to her feet she quickly bounds — 
 Again, " Oh, John ! '' she loudly screams. 
 
 A moment only speeds away. 
 
 Her echoed voice rolls back — " Oh, John !"- 
 And then from out the distant bay — 
 " Yes, Katie, dear, I'm coming on." 
 
 And louder sounds the dipping oars, 
 Around the bend the boat did glide. 
 
 It lands upon the rock-bound shores, 
 And then, with joy, black Betsey cried, 
 
 " De Lod be musiful and good — 
 
 De Lod be kind — de Lod be tru — 
 Young Frank and Aunty Mary Hood ! — 
 De Lod be praised, for dat am you !" 
 
 And soon they have a change of dress. 
 And Katie hurried up the tea ; — 
 
 John fed the "Stock" and faithful " Bess," 
 Kept waiting on the family. 
 196 
 
And " Moses" wagged his bushy tail, 
 To meet again his master Frank ; — 
 
 The geese and ducks set up a wail, 
 
 And " Noah" played full many a prank. 
 
 Aunt Mary was still in her prime, 
 
 John's Father's younger sister, she : — 
 
 A woman with a soul sublime, 
 The model of Christianity. 
 
 And Frank was but a lad half grown, 
 The only child then left of four, 
 
 And he and Aunty lived alone. 
 Beside the Mill and Valley Store. 
 
 But now entombed within the Cave, 
 Five human souls were forced to live ; 
 
 And all were hopeful, strong and brave. 
 Each had some cheering word to give. 
 
 Now, Farmer Gray lived on the hill — 
 A rich and handsome man was he : 
 
 And people thought he went to Mill, 
 More often than necessity. 
 
 That fatal morn, alone he stood, 
 Around the bend just by the Cave, 
 
 And saw young Frank, and " Widow Hood," 
 Dash 'neath the rocks, but could not save. 
 
 197 
 
And while the waters ebbed away, 
 Around the cliff a form did pace ; — 
 
 And people saw in Farmer Gray, 
 A changed and melancholy face. 
 
 For many long and dreary days, 
 
 The busy woodman's ax was heard ; — 
 
 " Somewhere within this drift she lays," — 
 
 To find her form his heart was stirred. 
 
 And in the Cave — Aunt Mary prayed. 
 
 And read her Bible day by day ; 
 And on one thought great stress she layed, 
 
 'Twas, " God be with good Farmer Gray." 
 
 Now, Frank enjoyed himself quite well. 
 With "Moses" hunting through the rocks; 
 
 And often had strange tales to tell. 
 
 Of horrid groans, and sighs, and knocks. 
 
 So, one day all the family. 
 
 Went with him to the haunted spot : — 
 There in a cavern cell they see. 
 
 Five skeletons, and many a pot. 
 
 Each pot was filled with glitt'ring gold. 
 
 And scattered 'round were guns and knives, 
 
 And by them lay a Book that told. 
 The slory of these murderers' lives. 
 
 198 
 
Bacli horrid deed was there enrolled — 
 A name familiar oft appears ; — 
 
 Thus hidden mysteries unfold, 
 Long buried by the passing years. 
 
 ^' Entered the bank of Jackson Lee, 
 
 And murdered him on New Year's day. 
 In eighteen hundred and fifty-three ; — 
 Took twenty thousand dollars 'way." 
 
 ** Dat am de second Seal, deah Kate — 
 Dat was yo Daddy, Missie Hood : — 
 Now, John, you knows yo Grandpap's fate, 
 And now dat Seal am understood.'' 
 
 And then they bear the pots away. 
 And count the gold beside the flame ; 
 
 And read the Record, day by day. 
 And make a pile for every name. 
 
 And when it all was counted o'er, 
 And who it should be given to. 
 
 There still remained a thousand more, 
 And Kate said, " Betsy, that's for you !" 
 
 ** Lod bless you, bless you, Katie, deah — 
 How dat will please my sweethot, Tom !- 
 We's gyan to wed on next ' New Yeah,' 
 And dis will buy for us a fom." 
 199 
 
And fast the days go fleetin' long — 
 
 Two months, or more, have passed and gone : — 
 Aunt Mary reads — Bess sings her song — 
 
 And Kate keeps talking Love to John. 
 
 And when the waters ebb away, 
 
 They find the Cave's mouth blocked with drift, 
 There John and Frank work day by day, 
 
 And Betsey often takes a shift. 
 
 " Hark, Frank ! — List to that sound without ! — 
 It is a woodsman's axe we hear ; '' — 
 
 " Halloo !— Halloo ! " They loudly shout !— 
 John's pistol rings out sharp and clear. 
 
 * ^ ^ 5|c ;|« * 
 
 Kate took the carpet up that day, 
 
 To sweep away the gravel stones ; 
 And there a Book of Record lay. 
 
 Just where they found the human bones. 
 
 And in the Book, the Story's told. 
 
 Of those who left them years ago, 
 To hide the Jewels and the Gold — 
 
 Whose fate till then no one did know. 
 
 It told them where the box was hid, 
 Within the closet 'neath the sands : — 
 
 Their shovel strikes the mouldy lid, 
 And screaks upon the iron bands. 
 200 
 
It told them how the water rose, 
 How many days it lingered high ; 
 
 And when it fell how drift did close 
 The Cave, and seal them there to die. 
 
 How from without — the drift on fire — 
 And how the smoke filled up the Cave : — 
 
 How, from it, " Sam " did first expire — 
 How, both to God, their souls they gave. 
 
 " Dat am de last Seal, Missie Kate ; — 
 ' Poo — Sam,' yo sperrit it am free, 
 But den 'tis better dats yo fate, 
 Dan dat you rund away from me." 
 
 Now Kate, Aunt Mary, Betsey, all 
 Go rushing down with torch in hand, 
 
 To where they heard the voices call, 
 And soon we have a listening band. 
 
 Aunt Mary hears a strong voice say — 
 " Bend to the task — work hard, my boys !"- 
 It is the voice of Farmer Gray — 
 
 And then she wept with heaven's joys. 
 
 And soon an hundred axes rang — 
 
 And fast the logs away were drawn : — 
 " De L/od be blessed " — black Betsy sang — 
 And Kate kept talking Love to John. 
 201 
 
*' Is that you, John?" — A faint voice said : — 
 " Yes, Mother dear! — 'tis me: — 'tis me!'' — 
 " Are you alive, or are you dead ? " — 
 " Oh ! I'm alive as live can be." 
 
 Another voice — " Are you there Kate? '' — 
 "Yes, Mother dear" — brave Katie said — 
 " And wer'nt you by the black bear ate. 
 
 And this your ghost? " — " No, I'm not dead 1" 
 
 " Oh ! Frank ! " A school girl's voice rang out : — 
 Frank' raised his head above a log. 
 And answered — " Yes, I'm here about, 
 And I have got my spotted dog." 
 
 " Oh ! Betsey Ann — am you dah too? '' — 
 
 " Yes, bless de Lod, I'se heah deah Tom: — 
 De Lod be kind ! — De Lod be true ! — 
 De Lod hab kep me from all hom." 
 
 And thus the men worked night and day. 
 Till Christmas morn the work was done, 
 
 And in the Cave walked Farmer Gray, 
 And cried — " Awake, my precious one 1 " 
 
 And when they reached the daylight fair, 
 And stood beside the gaping Cave, 
 
 A thousand ran to greet them there, 
 As resurrected from the grave. 
 
 202 
 
^* Leap Year," said Kate, " has not yet passed, 
 You'll answer, John, that question now ; " — 
 
 ** Yes, Kate, thou shalt be mine at last — 
 On New Year's Eve we'll seal the vow." 
 
 And grand that Triple Wedding Day — 
 And while the festive dance went on, 
 
 The people bowed to " Madam Gray " — 
 And " Katie Lee " talked Love to John. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 And while they put their night gowns on, 
 Still Kate kept talking Love to John. 
 
 203 
 
HUMOROUS POE/nS, 
 
 Good people all take heed — 
 You should not further read; 
 "We append a little folly. 
 For the fools and melancholy. 
 
 THE PINE TREE. 
 
 OOME people think the Pine Tree, 
 ^ A very, very, fine tree ; 
 But, while it is the greenest, 
 I think it is the meanest. 
 
 It kills the grass below it. 
 And then before you know it. 
 The hens and all the chickens 
 Are " scratching up the dickens !" 
 
 Its dress was never seen new ; — 
 It always wears a green hue ; — 
 And like a spindling old maid. 
 It cannot cast a bold shade. 
 
 Did one e'er see a vine grow 
 Upon a scraggy pine ? — No. 
 It is so plain and bug-bit. 
 No vine would care to hug it. 
 204 
 
OLD PETER POTTER. 
 
 OF flesh, old Peter never ate, 
 Because the grease stuck on his plate ;- 
 He seldom drank — Old Peter Potter, 
 Because he thought it wasted water. 
 
 Old Peter never washed his shirt, 
 Because he said it wasted dirt ; 
 And never, never combed his hair, 
 lycst he should lose a neighbor there. 
 
 He closed his chimney night and day. 
 To keep the smoke from blowing 'way ; 
 And when he slept he greased his feet, 
 So kicking would not wear the sheet. 
 
 One day they found Old Peter dead, 
 Because he would not breathe, they said ; 
 He would not breathe, they all declare, 
 Because he thought it wasted air. 
 
 Then the devil took a wee-straw. 
 And with it he made a see-saw ; — 
 There the soul of Peter Potter, 
 And the gnats play teeter-totter. 
 
 205 
 
LONDON rOG. 
 
 WRAPPED in darkness like the night, 
 That spreads o'er Egypt's arid plains^ 
 And not a gleam of noonday light, 
 To guide me through old London's lanes. 
 
 My lamp is but a yellow spot 
 
 That makes the darkness seem more dense ;. 
 I wander, whither I know not, 
 
 lyike blind man, cling to wall and fence. 
 
 The hackman leads his beast along, 
 And yells at all the moving vans, 
 
 And winds his way through jostling throng, 
 That grope about with outstretched hands.. 
 
 I've stood within the blackened cloud 
 On rocky mountain's towering height. 
 
 But never knew so dark a shroud. 
 
 Where lamps refuse to give their light. 
 
 The darkness veils the pretty girls 
 That bump against me in the street ; 
 
 I can't tell who has flowing curls. 
 And rosy lips, and dainty feet. 
 
 For they all look alike to me. 
 
 Except that some are bigger ; 
 The best that I can judge or see. 
 
 They all look like a nigger. 
 206 
 
nY IA\PS. 
 
 A JOLLY set of Imps, aglow with mirth, 
 Delight in digging tunnels in my head ; — 
 Like prairie dogs that burrow in the earth, 
 They bark at night — refuse to go to bed. 
 
 They are a breed of frisky sort of folk — 
 Not wickedly inclined, but full of glee, 
 
 Who like to give old " Sober-sides " a poke, 
 Or, tease and bother " Old Propriety." 
 
 Sometimes they kick up such a clannish noise, 
 
 Down in their hole, when they have got full sway^ 
 
 That Deacon " Dignity " can't stand the boys, 
 And gathering up his duds, he tramps away. 
 
 Then what a grand old time the rascals take ! — 
 They dance and sing, until the sacred dome 
 
 Of high and holy thought begins to quake, 
 
 As through the upper spheres they freely roam. 
 
 I've tried to drown the goblins out ; — I poke 
 The hole ; — I plug it up with stopper sealed. 
 
 And think to smother them ; — I sulphur smoke 
 The den, but still the stubborn things won't yield. 
 
 They may be still and mute a little while, 
 When " Dignity " assumes complete control ; 
 
 But let them have a chance, and *' I should smile," 
 If they don't raise a din down in that hole. 
 
 But when I think of what these lads have done, 
 
 'Tis not, sir, after all, so very bad ; — 
 They simply fill a mission, which is, " Fun;" — 
 
 And thus prevent the race from going mad. 
 
 207 
 
POPPING THE QUESTION. 
 
 T T ER soft white hand in his was lain, 
 ■■■ ■'• He " squoze '' it, 'cause 'twas plumpie, 
 And when she " squiz '' his back again, 
 His heart went thumpie, thumpie. 
 
 And then he fell right into love. 
 
 And she fell on his shoulder. 
 And while she coo'd like gentle dove, 
 
 Of course he loved to hold her. 
 
 Around her waist his arm he placed. 
 
 And tenderly he drew her ; 
 His love was ardent, pure and chaste, 
 
 For thus he wished to woo her. 
 
 And she was anxious to be wooed. 
 For Wilhelm owned her heartie ; 
 
 So his strong arm but did her good. 
 She did not care to partie. 
 
 And thus they sat in love's embrace. 
 
 The silence was not broke up ; 
 The two hearts beat as on a race. 
 
 But finally Wilhelm spoke up. 
 
 Sez he — " I dinks someting shust now ; '' 
 
 Sez she—" Do tell it Billy ; "— 
 Sez he — " Katrine, you be mine frow? " — 
 
 Sez she— "All right, I willie.'' 
 
 208 
 
And then lie kissed her time again — 
 
 She bit his cheek a bite-y, 
 But yet it did not give him pain, 
 
 Her nibbling was so light-y. 
 
 And now Katrine makes Wilhelm's bread, 
 And Wilhelm makes the " mouney," 
 
 She loves her Wilhelm almost dead, 
 He loves Katrine like " houney." 
 
 TEED A\Y SHEEP. 
 
 1WRNT to the church last Sabbath day 
 To hear the parson preach and pray ; — 
 His text was, " Peter, feed my sheep " — 
 And o'er my flock a vigil keep. 
 His hearers, who seemed quite devout. 
 Made resolutions then, no doubt. 
 The while their feelings were so stirred. 
 To put in practice what they heard. 
 But Monday came, 'twas very queer 
 That nearly all went out to shear 
 The sheep they'd lately vowed to feed, 
 And each, to satisfy his greed. 
 If he could nowise get a fleece, 
 Pulled quills and feathers from the geese ; 
 Thus still the Devils vigil keep, 
 O'er freezing geese and starving sheep, 
 u 209 
 
AY PIPE. 
 
 MEERSCHAUM, what thinkest thou to-night? 
 Thou hast a soul 
 Like a philosopher, deep, meditative and profound — 
 I've often drawn it from thy richly-colored bowl. 
 
 But to-night, I must tell thee. 
 That in me 
 
 There lives two clans of contending folk. 
 And in their contention, 
 They do provoke 
 Me to much grief; 
 
 And, of late, they held a great convention, 
 To formulate some measures of relief. 
 The Liberals represent the head and its constituency ; 
 And the Conservatives defend the heart. 
 Which art thy greatest enemy. 
 While I am the Government, to execute the law, 
 But in the acts of Parliament I take no part. 
 
 In this convention of the clans. 
 The head set up that thou wert man's best friend — 
 And there were many noisy talkers — 
 And well did they set forth thy virtues — 
 That mankind was greatly blessed by thee — 
 That thou didst soothe the troubled mind. 
 And that in all the earth we could not find 
 Another friend to share our troubles, as thou dost share^ 
 Or who wouldst make us bear 
 
 210 
 
With grumbling mother-in-law, or scolding wife. 
 
 But this the thumping heart denied, 
 And said the weak and stupid head but lied — 
 That thou, Oh ! Meerschaum, art a base intruder^ 
 On mischief bent — 
 A vile pretender to the throne — 
 The devil's breath, 
 Who had sown 
 The seeds of death 
 In me, the Government. 
 While thus the heart did vent 
 It's spleen on thee 
 I, the Government, did sit content, 
 Puffing at thy stem ; 
 
 And they passed an edict, that thou must die ; 
 And, so to pacify my reign, 
 I, the Government, shall never smoke again ; 
 And to enforce this law, the house of Parliament,. 
 Have directed me to cremate thee — 
 So prepare to die :— 
 
 The pipe spoke not, 
 For it is void of thought. 
 Except when aromatic smoke 
 Is coursing through its stem. 
 
 I gazed with sadness upon the amber bowl, 
 Then gently laid it on a blazing coal : — 
 At once the stem began to spit and splutter, 
 And to mutter and wail, 
 
 211 
 
Like cat with tail 
 
 Within a vice ; 
 
 When thus it spake : 
 
 " Thrice cursed art thou this day — 
 
 I'll haunt thee, Aye, 
 
 Till thou shalt deep repent. 
 
 Thou heartless Government ! — 
 
 Have I not been your trusted friend? — 
 
 And for what end 
 
 Dost thou destroy me ? — 
 
 Ah ! but to please thy lazy, worthless, fluttering heart. 
 
 That never did its part, 
 
 But grumbled at every pleasure thou hast known — 
 
 For this contentious thing, upon the coals I'm thrown. 
 
 Beware ! — 
 
 For this night I swear, 
 
 I'll haunt thee. 
 
 Till every bone in thee. 
 
 Cry out against thee. 
 
 For this ingratitude to me !" — 
 
 And then the stem split wide apart. 
 And the happy heart 
 Rejoiced to see that red hot bowl. 
 Breathe out the last breath of its departing soul. 
 And the head shed tears 
 
 Above the shattered body of the illustrious dead. 
 And, in vision, I, the Government, 
 Beheld that spirit rise, 
 
 212 
 
Above the clouds, beyond the skies, 
 
 And from good Lazarus's table, rich and rare, 
 
 They filled it up with heaven's nicotine. 
 
 Perfumed with Eden's roses, 
 
 When Father Moses smoked it there. 
 
 Then, like a widower, who seeks a second wife 
 Bre the first is cold within the grave, 
 I sought to find another pipe. 
 While yet the ashes of my first was hot : — 
 But then again I thought. 
 That he, who controlleth not 
 His every aim, will ne'er attain 
 To manhood's highest plane. 
 And so I, the Government, 
 Did sore repent 
 My weakness, and went to bed. 
 
 But the spitting and the spluttering. 
 The flitting and the fluttering. 
 And the mad muttering 
 Of my burning pipe. 
 Haunted me all the night. 
 And all the day and night again, 
 For days and nights, until my brain 
 Went wild. And I, the Government, saw 
 I had a mighty task to execute the law ; 
 For the spirit of the dead 
 Fired vengeance upon my head ; 
 And against one, the Government, 
 
 213 
 
This self same head rebelled, 
 
 And the stomach moaned, 
 
 And the liver swelled, 
 
 And the spirit groaned : — 
 
 The whole physiological clan — 
 
 The blood, the muscles, and the bone, 
 
 Took up the part of the head. 
 
 And claimed they were misled 
 
 By the nimble tongued, noisy heart — 
 
 And the heart stood quite alone. 
 
 Soon this disaflfected clamoring clan 
 Of Fenians, began 
 To so fret and worry, 
 And spit and flurry. 
 That they put me, the Government, 
 Into a predicament 
 Of discontent, 
 Bent on annihilation. 
 Of everything in Creation, 
 Except me, the Nation. 
 
 Then, in a rage, 
 I killed the clattering canary birds, 
 And smashed their cage — 
 
 Kicked the mewing cat right through a window pane, 
 Slapped the children and made them bawl, 
 And with my cane, lashed the dog, 
 And the eyeless kittens I whipped against the wall ; 
 And then, I slammed the door, 
 
 214 
 
And rushing out to tlie first tobacco store, 
 
 I bought a duplicate of my Departed Friend — 
 
 And thus doth end 
 
 My story — 
 
 For sweet content 
 
 Now reigns supreme, within the Government — 
 
 And I'll take my pipe to glory. 
 
 CAN A GIRL MAKE A SHOE? 
 
 CAN a girl make a shoe as well as a man ? 
 " A girl make a shoo ? " why of course a girl can, 
 I have seen her lips form like a fresh budding rose, 
 When my soul felt emotions that tickled my toes ; — 
 Oh ! the jo}'' of that moment — the ecstatic bliss, 
 When I thought she was posing to give me a kiss ; 
 But instead, came a screech that lifted my hair, 
 And geese, ducks, and chickens, just paddled the air, 
 And so did the pigeons and tom-turkeys too — 
 Why, one girl beats a regiment of men on a shoo-oo-oo ! 
 
 THE WAG. 
 
 WHEN the dog wags the tail, the dog feels glad ; — 
 When the tail wags the dog, the dog gets mad ; 
 When the wag wines up, the wag's quite punny; — 
 When the wag winds down, he is not very funny. — 
 May the Devil or the Dragon, 
 Take the wag ^with a wag-on. 
 215 
 
A WOiHAN AND A CAT. 
 
 A CAT wild running round a room, 
 A woman after it with broom ; 
 Is such a sight that one must laugh, 
 Although the blows he gets, quite half. 
 
 " Scat, you ! scat! — you ugly thing !" 
 And down the broom comes with a ring ; 
 And next it glances off your head. 
 When pussy runs beneath the bed. 
 
 She never minds your head at all, 
 But pounds the bed and pokes the wall ; 
 And when you go to help her scout 
 The vagrant thing, she hits your snout. 
 
 She moves the bed, upsets the chairs. 
 And then old pussy runs upstairs ; 
 And there you hear her fearful blows, 
 The while you wash your bleeding nose. 
 
 " Scat ! scat ! scat, you !" — whack — slam — bang- 
 (Down goes the bowl and pitcher) — whang ! 
 Whizz — (a broken window glass) whack ! — 
 When, lo ! the cat comes running back ! 
 
 VILE. 
 
 The vilest, vain varmint, of all the vile things, 
 Is that visiting vagrant — the cat when he sings ! 
 216 
 
THE TOAD AND THE LIZARD. 
 
 A TREE toad sat upon a knot 
 And croaked, and croaked, and croaked- 
 " A big toad I " he thought and thought, 
 And croaked until he choked. 
 
 A lizard lay upon a limb ; 
 
 Silent was he — was he, 
 And there the croaking toad spied him — 
 
 This lizard up the tree. 
 
 " You long tailed lizard, you can't sing !" 
 The tree toad croaked — croaked he ; 
 
 " You are a lazy, worthless thing. 
 You lizard up the tree !" 
 
 The toad snapped up a passing fly 
 
 That buzzed around his nose. 
 And then he closed his sleepy eye. 
 
 To take a short repose. 
 
 But soon the lizard, silent, sly, 
 
 Crept up and swallowed him — 
 Now toad, and fly, and lizard, lie 
 
 Together on a limb. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 He who from self prescribes the rule, 
 To mark the wise and stamp the fool, 
 
 And boasts his greater power, 
 May find these fools of other clans, 
 Are silently devising plans, 
 
 His body to devour. 
 
 217 
 
OCEAN POETS. 
 
 I'VE reached the conclusion that girl told a tale, 
 When she wrote, " It is grand on the ocean to sail ;" 
 My stomach's quite sick, I'm all out of sorts — 
 Confound the big waves ! and their lesser cohorts, 
 
 That keep dashing, 
 
 And slashing, 
 
 And splashing, 
 
 And clashing. 
 Against the sides of our gallant old ship — 
 May I be forgiven for taking this trip. 
 
 And that girl who pictured " the sweet, balmy breeze 
 That gently blows o'er the deep, blue seas ;" — 
 I wish she was here, her head I would hold, 
 'Til the sea drank up the stories she told ; — 
 
 Till the breezes. 
 
 And sneezes. 
 
 And freezes, 
 
 And squeezes 
 (For I'm sure I would hold her quite safely) 
 Had taught her the prose of the great, mad sea. 
 
 Oh ! take me to the girl who wrote " Beautiful Snows," 
 I'd rather play snowball — freeze my ears and my nose, 
 Than tumble about on the waves of the deep. 
 And live on beef tea, and be rocked while I sleep ; — 
 
 Oh my ! oh my ! oh me ! 
 
 Take off your beef tea ! 
 
 Ho-oo-p ! ho-oope ! 
 
 Oh, the horrid old sea ! 
 Oh dear ! I shall die ! oh me ! oh my ! ho-oo-pee ! — 
 Steward, take me to my bunk, oh my ! oh me ! 
 
 218 
 
THE POETS. 
 
 THE Poets all have wind whipped hair, 
 And think they'r wondrous creatures- 
 They gawk about, with vacant stare. 
 And act sad, like the preachers. 
 
 They sail around on airy wings, 
 
 Like thistle seed in Autumn : 
 And sow their little 'spired things — 
 
 Unless they hav'nt got 'em. 
 
 Most people think the Poet, tho', 
 
 A kind of useless dicky ; 
 For, nearly all of them, you know, 
 
 Are sort o' lunaticky. 
 
 They write love stuff to maidens, sweet, 
 
 Etern'ly spillin' over ; 
 For, every girl they chance to meet, 
 " Is sweeter than red clover." 
 
 Lord Byron had a hundred " dears " — 
 
 The angels of a minit — 
 He loved to tickle itching ears, 
 
 There wa'nt no good love in it. 
 
 Don't b'lieve 'em,fgirls — its^only bosh — 
 These Poets who write so glowing, 
 
 Are very like the little squash. 
 That died when it was growing. 
 
 But b'lieve me, girls — my love is sound — 
 
 I'm not a poet, fickle ; 
 And you, I put my arms around, 
 
 I'll love like spicy pickle. 
 219 
 
THE BEGINNING. 
 
 FROM dust of earth 
 Man had his birth, 
 In Eden's balmy shade ; 
 And from his rib, 
 Comely and glib, 
 A woman soon was made. 
 
 One day she went, 
 Womanly bent, 
 " To see what she could see," 
 And wandering 'round 
 The pleasure ground, 
 She spied an apple tree. 
 
 There on a limb. 
 Sleek, slimy, slim, 
 
 A spotted reptile lay ; 
 The serpent smiled, 
 And Eve beguiled. 
 
 Took fruit and went away. 
 
 And Adam ate 
 
 Oh ! sad, sad'fate !— 
 For sin, and death, and hell. 
 Were thus begot, 
 So we are taught, 
 As, " All in Adam fell." 
 220 
 
While Adam yet, 
 
 Was mortar wet, 
 God knew that he would fall ; 
 
 So sinners think, 
 
 'Twere best to chink. 
 Such mud on Eden's wall. 
 
 In God's first plan, 
 
 The rib of man. 
 Brought sorrows, griefs, and groans ; 
 
 So sinners muse, 
 
 'Twere best to use, 
 Such ribs for rattle bones. 
 
 Had this been done. 
 
 My sceptic one. 
 Me thinks that you and I, 
 
 Would be afloat, 
 
 A little moat, 
 Off in the milky sky. 
 
 Then after all, 
 
 'Twere best to fall, 
 And Adam go to seed ; 
 
 So don't defame, 
 
 Our Mother's name. 
 But thank her for the deed. 
 
 221 
 
HOUSEHOLD RECO/APENSE. 
 
 WHEN, arched, the rainbow decks the hazy skies, 
 'Tis then your nose is roofed with lazy flies ; 
 And not 'till hot sun melts the glowing spray, 
 Can you provoke, or coax the things away : — 
 
 And, so in life ; — when pleasures rare abound, 
 We're sure to have some pestering things around ; 
 And never 'till the festive hour has gone. 
 Can we dismiss the boorish hangers on. 
 
 This law holds good in our domestic life. 
 If we, perchance, should wed a noble wife, 
 In whom the soul of sweetness overflows, 
 She's sure to have an ugly mouth or nose. 
 
 The bride, in beauty, who doth far excel. 
 Expects in wifehood to remain a Belle — 
 A kind of " Bell," you can't afford to " ring," 
 Since diamonds are a very costly thing ; — 
 But should you wed a maiden without flaw, 
 The pest will come — You'll find it in her Ma. 
 
 WHY SHE WAS A SPINSTER. 
 
 SHE placed her ideal too high for her station ; 
 She wanted a man with a bank and plantation ; 
 A handsome man, too, with no bloom on his nose, sir, 
 A man, yes, a man, from his head to his toes, sir. 
 Her perfect man lies in the vaults of Westminster, 
 Or he was never born, so she is a Spinster ! 
 
 222 
 
THE OLD SVjmniN' HOLE. 
 
 I'M thinking of the old " flood trash," 
 -*■ And " swimmin' hole near by it ; 
 Where I, and Hill Jones, used to splash — 
 And girls they wandered nigh it. 
 
 One day we spied some up the creek, 
 
 There stonin' of the ganders : 
 And splashin' water, with a stick. 
 
 On George and Henry Anders. 
 
 Now, George and Henry wa'nt right smart, 
 But they could make bark whistles, 
 
 And tag the girls, and pull the cart. 
 And club the saucy thistles. 
 
 We saw them boys, with Sue and Rose 
 
 (I s'pose they thought it cunnin'), 
 Come sneakin' 'round to where our clothes 
 
 Laid on a log a sunin'. 
 
 Then I slipped through the old " flood trash," 
 And Hill sneaked back around them — 
 
 The girls they scud off", like a flash. 
 
 We grabbed the chaps to drown'd them. 
 
 They plead — they cried — they kicked and fought, 
 Bnt down we plunged them under ! — 
 
 The bubbles raised, like in a pot — 
 The girls, they yelled like thunder. 
 
 223 
 
'Twas mighty mean, but then we thought 
 
 They needed little wettin', 
 For bringing girls right nigh the spot, 
 
 Where we were " somer-sitin." 
 
 I wish that I might see again, 
 The mullen stocks and thistles. 
 
 That growed along the paw-paw lane. 
 Where Henry made his whistles. 
 
 I want to see the pumpkin blows — 
 
 That pretty yellow posy, 
 That down beneath the broad leaf grows, 
 
 So dewy-like, and cozy. 
 
 The apple, peach and locust trees, 
 
 And blooming fields of clover ; 
 That fed the buzzing bumble-bees, 
 
 And scented us all over ; — 
 
 But what would please me most, you know, 
 
 Would be to see those I^asses, 
 Just as I saw them years ago, 
 
 There in the weeds and grasses. 
 
 If I could only see them girls, 
 
 I'd to the land quick paddle. 
 And run right out and muss their curls — 
 
 Ha ! — How they would skedaddle ! 
 224 
 
WONST. 
 
 W-W-W-ONST I was a b-b-big boy, 
 And b-b-braver boys were few 
 But I was f-f-fraid of m-mad dogs, 
 And g-g-ghosts and d-devils too. 
 
 W-wonst I saw a b-b-black sheep, 
 
 A s-s-standing by a log, 
 I thought it was a d-d-devil, 
 
 Or elst a b-b-big mad dog. 
 
 And then I r-r-ran away 
 
 J-j-just as fast as I could j-j-jog, — 
 And when I saw my sh-sh-shadow, 
 
 I th-th-thought it was the d-d-dog. 
 
 Wonst I saw the m-m-moonlight 
 
 A sh-shining on my bed ; 
 I th-th-thought it was a 1-1-live ghost, 
 
 And k-k-kivered up my head. 
 
 W-w-wonst I went to m-meeting, 
 And s-s-started home with Jane, 
 
 B-b-but I got s-skeered at s-something 
 A c-c-coming up the 1-1-lane. 
 
 I th-thought it was the d-devil 
 
 The p-p-preacher t-t-talked about. 
 
 And j-j-jumped upon the fence, 
 
 And j-j-j-Jane, she laughed right out. 
 
 15 225 
 
Said she " it's only b-b-Brindle, 
 And better cows th-are n-n-none, 
 
 I guess you'd b-b-better run, b-b-bub, 
 And I'll go home alone." 
 
 Wonst I was a b-b-brave boy, 
 But that was in d-d-daylight, 
 
 I c-c-couldn't stand a 1-1-live thing 
 A p-p-poking round at night. 
 
 WHEN. 
 
 WHEN I meet a man a grinning. 
 His face to me is never winning ; 
 But when I see a maiden smile, 
 I can bear it quite a while. 
 
 When I see a girl a flirting, 
 I never pity him she's hurting ; 
 
 For if a man can't tell a Flirt, 
 
 I think the fool had ought be hurt. 
 
 When I hear a hornet singing, 
 
 I don't want him 'round me winging ; 
 
 For like the man who pleads for bail. 
 He brings a very dangerous tale. 
 
 226 
 
A TROUBLESOA\E PARASITE. 
 
 A KIND of parasite has grown 
 Upon the top of my back bone, 
 And there it holds supreme control 
 O'er my body and my soul. 
 
 The body don't have half a show — 
 This parasite is " boss " you know ; 
 It knocks my old bones round about, 
 Until it's almost worn them out. 
 
 It does some foolish thing each day. 
 It builds air ships that fade away, 
 And some times will not let me sleep, 
 But bothers me at night a " heap." 
 
 It drives me round the stony street 
 Without regard to tender feet; 
 And when I have an empty purse 
 It only bothers worse and worse. 
 
 It's always been a dreadful pest ; 
 I wish the thing would take a rest ; 
 For such a bother ne'er was known 
 On any other man's back bone. 
 
 COVETED REST. 
 
 I WISH I could find some hole in the ground, 
 That man never saw, and beast never found. 
 Where no living creature e'er breathed of the air ; 
 I would rest my old bones full twenty years there ; 
 And when I awoke from this sleep of the soul, 
 I would not go away without taking the hole. 
 
 227 
 
PATIENT POET WAITING EOR AN IDEE. 
 
 [The interlined phrases in this Poem express an associated thought — They may be 
 read or omitted,] 
 
 o 
 
 H ! Muse ! I want an Idee if you please ! 
 
 [See them big eyes] 
 
 I'm all a gape with rabbit's listful ears, || 
 That upward prick and turn towards the breeze, 
 And jerk at sounds that waken hopes and fears. 
 
 [Shoo-fiy.] 
 
 Don't keep me here with left ear, || upward turned, 
 
 [Go to bed Susan] 
 
 And brow all wrinkled || like a hungry ass, 
 Long waiting for his meal so justly earned. 
 While in the rack there's not a blade of grass. 
 
 Send me an Idee please — a bright Idee ! — 
 
 [go way moth] 
 
 Not one that's hazy, like || and hain't no heft, — 
 Which when you squeeze out the insanity. 
 There is a little less than nothing left. 
 
 But Idee straight from out the clear blue skies ; 
 Not hot, but with a tender, mirthful glow 
 That starts the pumps to work around the eyes, 
 
 [Oh! what a breath !] 
 
 And then makes all the rotten teeth || to show. 
 
 [go away mosquito] 
 
 If not that kind, || then send one like the bell 
 That never thunders high, or drops down low, 
 
 [stop that snoring] 
 
 But whose majestic anthem s|| grandly swell. 
 Like words — " Praise God from whom all blessings flow ! 
 
 228 
 
[where's the girls] 
 
 If that Idee is out, || then send one, please, — 
 One with a giant's fist, which, when it smites 
 The mountain tops, the valleys, and the seas 
 Quake, and the shattered rocks fall from the heights. 
 
 [shoo-fly] 
 
 Most any sort, please Sir, || that you may choose, 
 
 [see that bat !] 
 
 Except swamp ghost, || and spider webby kind ; — 
 And now I wait most noble, noble muse, 
 The inspirated Idee in my mind. 
 
 [shoo] 
 
 Come Idee — come ! I'm squinting || both mine eyes — 
 Askant I gaze with chin low down my breast — 
 I wish the bats would eat these buzzing flies. 
 Or else the sleepless things would take a rest. 
 
 I hear an Idee now — hold ! wait ! keep still ! — 
 
 [Oh, what a groan] 
 
 There now, 'tis hovering, || just above my head — 
 " Ziekel, my back is cold — my feet are chill, 
 It's one o'clock — you'd better come to bed." 
 
 [shoo wasp] 
 
 Get up II and warm you back agin the wall, 
 And heat your feet on ice ; — don't bother me ! — 
 
 [go away wasp] 
 
 I never can || write poetry at all, 
 
 [blast the flies] 
 
 While you keep frightening || off my best Idee. 
 
 And talking 'bout cold feet and shiv'ring back — 
 That sort of thing makes Idees cuddle in 
 Like spotted pigs out in the rye straw stack ; — 
 Such icy things stunts Idees like all sin. 
 
 229 
 
[my head itches] 
 
 Now wait a min't, for every insect |1 pest 
 
 [shoo] 
 
 Is on the wing : — The wasp, || the fly, the bee, 
 
 [go to sleep] 
 
 The madam, || has awoke from calm, sweet rest ; 
 
 [shoo there] 
 
 The buzzing things || drive off my best Idee. 
 Hark, now I'll get one, this time, sure as fate ! 
 
 [buz-buz] 
 
 I hear it || singing, sweetly in the air ; — 
 And now it lights upon my shiney pate, 
 
 [keep still Susan] 
 
 And wanders || round the margin of the hair. 
 
 [hush !] 
 
 Good Idee, this ! || Grand Idee this ! — Bless it! — 
 
 [buz-buz] 
 
 How it stirs me H with its fluttering wings ; — 
 I dare not — I must not yet caress it, 
 
 [keep still Susan] 
 
 'Till I receive |1 the message that it brings. 
 
 And now, right out within the hair its crept ; 
 
 It's got entangled there ; — Quick ! quick ! my pen ! — 
 
 [keep still Susan] 
 
 In haste I write 1| " For Caesar Rome hath wept '' — 
 
 [buz-buz] 
 
 A grand beginning, this || I thought, and then 
 I raised my hand above the great Idee, 
 
 [buz-buz] 
 
 And thus began || to press it gently home ; 
 
 When like a red hot awl it entered me. 
 
 And then I cried — " Woe hath befallen Rome !" 
 
 " Mad Brutus pierced the heart of Caesar, great, 
 
 [buz-buz] 
 
 And now his spirit rises || from the shades, 
 And stabs me murderously! — Stabs my pate ! — 
 Coward! — Villain !! — Sneak !! — Depart !! — Back to 
 Hades !!— 
 
 230 
 
Back where the tar smokes eternally swell !! — 
 Back with the Dragon — lick the brimstone flame ! ! — 
 Back to the regions of the damned in hell!! — 
 Back ! — traitor^ back ! — And ACCURSED be thy name ! ! 
 
 Ye spear tailed wretch^ hear me ! Away ! flee ! flee ! 
 Bind him, Oh ! Ye powers with the murdrous 
 
 DEAD !! — 
 But^ Ah there^ now I've got the Cuss — SEE ! — 
 The wasp had left his ideE in my head. 
 
 HOW BELLE AND 1 CAUGHT A COON. 
 
 BELIyE was my playmate — sweet Belle — 
 Sweet little Belle— 
 And how I loved her no tongue can tell ! — 
 You needn't laugh, 'tis true — 
 And every trick that I could do, 
 Why, Belle could do as well. 
 
 She drove the cows home from the wood. 
 And on old " Brindle's " back she stood, 
 And swung her hood. 
 And danced her jigs — 
 
 And sometimes drove her by her long, thin tail, 
 And clubbed the pigs, 
 That snuflfed about the tin pail. 
 
 And she could drive the balky mare, 
 That sometimes wouldn't go, 
 
 231 
 
Or pull a garden hoe, 
 
 But stood just so — 
 
 Or else she backed and knocked about, 
 
 And kicked the dash board out ; — 
 
 But mean as was that mare, 
 
 Belle didn't swear. 
 
 She sometimes climbed up in the new hay mow, 
 And made her bow. 
 And said, " Watch now " — 
 And then she turned her summersets : — 
 And when she climbed the hickory trees. 
 She skinned her knees, 
 And tore her pantaletts. 
 
 There wa'nt a'single country girl. 
 That strolled the river banks. 
 That could begin to equal Belle, 
 In playing funny pranks. 
 If I should tell 
 Half Belle could do, 
 I'd not get through 
 Till noon, 
 So all I'll tell. 
 Just now, 
 Is how, 
 That we did catch a Coon. 
 
 'Twas in the balmy month of May, 
 When everything looked bright and gay. 
 And Belle from home had run away, 
 
 232 
 
To have a play 
 
 With me — 
 
 Said she, 
 
 " What shall we do to-day ?"— 
 
 Said I—" A-fishing let us go." 
 
 " All right," said she, " you get the hoe 
 
 And dig the worms " — 
 
 Aud so I did. 
 
 And Belle she got the hooks and lines,' 
 
 Then away we went, through nooks and vines. 
 
 And " Maje " he trotted by our side. 
 
 And scratched his hide. 
 
 And wagged his tail. 
 
 And snuffed the holes. 
 
 For mice and moles. 
 
 And scared the setting quail. 
 
 And when we reached the fishing hole — 
 Just by the '' old flood trash "— 
 Why, " Maje," he made an awful dash, 
 And barked, and pawed the brush about. 
 Then pretty soon, 
 Out popped a Coon, 
 Not more'n a rod from Belle and me. 
 And scampered up a basswood tree. 
 
 " Let's catch the Coon," said Belle — 
 " We will," said I, " and sell 
 His hide, and go to Barnum's show." 
 Ho ! that will do," said she, 
 
 233 
 
And we gazed up in the tree. 
 
 That basswood tree was very high — 
 Its branches seemed to reach the sky : — 
 It leaned right o'er the swimmin' hole, 
 The deepest place that could be found ; 
 Just where old Deacon Dudley's soul, 
 Popped up to heaven, when he got drowned. 
 And right up on the topmost limb. 
 The Coon had dim — 
 
 That limb that leaned half o'er the stream — 
 And there he grinning sat, 
 And watched us like a cat, 
 And twitched his ears, a-harkin 
 Loud, at " Maje," the dog, 
 Who danced upon a log. 
 And beat hisself a-barkin. 
 
 Then, Belle, said she, 
 " Let's climb the tree 
 And punch the old Coon oflf" — 
 " All right," said I, 
 " He's mighty high. 
 But then we'll try." 
 
 I got a pole and climbed the tree, 
 And Belle she followed after me : 
 And when we reached the topmost limb, 
 We looked to see how high we'd dim. 
 It was a very great way up — 
 A hundred feet or higher — 
 
 334 
 
For " Maje " looked like a little pup — 
 His eyes like sparks of fire. 
 
 That limb looked sort o' breshy like, 
 As basswood trees all be, 
 And I scanned it carefully — 
 It didn't seem quite safe to me : — 
 But Belle, you see, 
 Kept naggin me, 
 As though I was a loon : — 
 *' Go on," said she, 
 " Go out and punch the Coon !" — 
 
 " Now, Belle," said I, 
 "We're awful high " — 
 " Go on," said she, " this limb is stout — 
 Go out 
 
 And punch the Coon, or let me by 
 And see if I 
 Can't punch him off"!" 
 
 Now, Belle had climbed full many a hickory tree, 
 Whose limbs are tough and limber ; 
 But she didn't know as much as me, 
 About that breshy timber. 
 The limb, 'tis true. 
 Was inches through, 
 But what of that. 
 Please mind me ; 
 Out on the end a fat Coon sat, 
 And a big girl just behind me : — 
 
 . 235 
 
Beside I thought, 
 
 I saw a flaw, and a weakness at a knot. 
 
 But Belle, she got impatient, 
 And she crawled right over me ; 
 And I felt most awful skeerish, like^ 
 Way up there in the tree : — 
 " Give me the pole," said she, 
 "The limb won't break, you spooney — 
 Just see me punch the Cooney !" — 
 
 She punched the Coon with all her might. 
 And when she struck him on the head, 
 His eyes turned red, 
 
 And he grabbed the pole, and showed her fight : — 
 " Get out you ring-tailed beast," she cried. 
 As the Coon come creeping near her side. 
 With teeth a-grin, and eyes a-glare, 
 Prepared to fight death's battle there : — 
 ** Go 'way, you ugly thing," — yelled she. 
 Yet, still the Coon did nearer creep. 
 And soon he made one vicious leap, 
 And planted, deep, 
 His claws in Belle's bare throat ; 
 And, then to rid herself of him, 
 She fell with force upon the limb. 
 When it did break, 
 
 And Belle, and Coon, and limb, and I, 
 Did earthward fly ; — 
 And what a splash we all did make, 
 
 236 
 
As we came tumbling from the sky. 
 
 How long beneath the water we did stay, 
 I could not say — 
 
 It seemed to me about a half a day. 
 When we came up I was quite out of breath, 
 And Belle had me around the neck, 
 Just huggin me to death : — 
 
 And she spurted water from her mouth and nose, 
 Like a three forked hose ; — 
 And I tried to stop her choking me, 
 But she wouldn't ; — 
 And she gouged her nails in my neck. 
 When she shouldn't ; — 
 And she tried to squeal. 
 But she couldn't; — 
 
 But pretty soon her face beamed with a smile. 
 For she came to herself, in a little while ; 
 And she felt just as happy as a maid from the moon. 
 When she saw " Maje " just shaking 
 And ducking that Coon. 
 
 Now, Belle and I, hand clasped in hand, 
 Swam to the land ; 
 
 And " Maje," he brought the dead Coon to the shore. 
 And we skinned him, and sold his hide at the Store, 
 And so, 
 
 We did go, 
 
 To Barnum's 
 
 Big Show. 
 
 237 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Cursed Home 68 
 
 A Whale in the Irish Sea 140 
 
 An Appreciative Audience 25 
 
 At the Grave of a Brother Soldier 49 
 
 Bitter and Sweet 27 
 
 Buried at Sea 84 
 
 By Angels Led 16 
 
 Cause and Effect 30 
 
 Children's Books 116 
 
 Confidence 41 
 
 Cosmos 44 
 
 Dead Seeds 29 
 
 Despair 81 
 
 Discontent 119 
 
 Disintegrating Souls 61 
 
 Faith, Hope and Charity 7 
 
 Fate 89 
 
 Fleeting Thoughts 48 
 
 Garfield. Our Dead President 43 
 
 Garfield's Prayer 164 
 
 God's Sunshine 8 
 
 Greatness 153 
 
 Harrow on the Hill 52 
 
 Hide Me from Myself 128 
 
 Hope 39 
 
 How MoU and I Got Started 154 
 
 In Darkness 82 
 
 Intuitive Perception 130 
 
 Invocation 86 
 
 I Would Not Turn Backward 118 
 
 Lead Me 146 
 
 Life 55 
 
 Life is a Wave 47 
 
 Life's River 21 
 
 Little Bothers 126 
 
 238 
 
PAGE 
 
 Longfellow 160 
 
 Lord 's Day 50 
 
 My Blind Brother 36 
 
 My Daily Prayer 68 
 
 My Death 135 
 
 My Fiftieth Birthday U 
 
 My Flirt Thoughts 13 
 
 New Year's Day 5 
 
 Not Congenial 145 
 
 Oh, Do Not be Discouraged 14 
 
 On Seeing the Old Flag at Queenstown 24 
 
 On the Shore 42 
 
 Prayer 10 
 
 Reciprocity 63 
 
 Reflected Shadows 76 
 
 Rely on God 81 
 
 Robert Burns 42 
 
 Scenes By Her Gate 40 
 
 Simplicity 67 
 
 Some Day 141 
 
 Sowing Seeds of Love 8 
 
 Susie and I 46 
 
 The Battle of Mouse and Elephant 66 
 
 The Birth of Christ 70 
 
 The Burning of Joan of Arc 31 
 
 The Christmas Cross 163 
 
 The Cows Went Home Alone , 87 
 
 The Haunts of My Childhood 129 
 
 The Imprisoned Lovers 165 
 
 The Maid of Edisto 90 
 
 The Miller and the IVIill 143 
 
 The Mystic Key 78 
 
 The Mystic Veil 147 
 
 The Old Book 64 
 
 The Prodigal's Prayer 62 
 
 The Queen's Seventieth Birthday 134 
 
 The Restless Mystery , , 51 
 
 The Spirit Voice 75 
 
 The Story of His [Christ's] Life 72 
 
 239 
 
PAGE 
 
 The Tales of the Mill 28 
 
 The Tempter's Song 26 
 
 The Tempter's Victory , 15 
 
 The Unfathomable 6 
 
 The Voice of Liberty 152 
 
 The Witch 151 
 
 Thoughts Suggested by a Visit to the House of Lords and 
 
 Commons 131 
 
 To Lue 127 
 
 To My Own True Wife 83 
 
 Vote as You Pray 65 
 
 Westminster Abbey 22 
 
 What is Home 69 
 
 Where 117 
 
 Youth's Hopes 29 
 
 HUMOROUS POEMS. 
 
 A Troublesome Parasite 227 
 
 A Woman and a Cat 216 
 
 Can a Girl Make a Shoe 215 
 
 Coveted Rest 227 
 
 Feed My Sheep 209 
 
 Household Recompense 222 
 
 How Belle and I Caught a Coon 231 
 
 London Fog 206 
 
 My Imps 207 
 
 My Pipe .....210 
 
 Ocean Poets 218 
 
 Old Peter Potter 205 
 
 Patient Poet Waiting for an Idee 228 
 
 Popping the Question 208 
 
 The Beginning 220 
 
 The Old Swimmin' Hole 223 
 
 The Pine Tree • 204 
 
 The Poets . •• 219 
 
 The Toad and the Lizard 217 
 
 The Wag 215 
 
 When 226 
 
 Why She was a Spinster 222 
 
 Wonst 225 
 
 240 
 
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