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UNDER 
 
 THE 
 
 SOUTHERN SUN 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY B. HEYER 
 
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 THE 
 
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 Hbbcy press 
 
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 PUBLISHERS 
 114 
 FIFTH AVENUE 
 NEW YORK 
 
 /Hbontreal 
 
THE 1- 
 
 IBRAWY ©Fl 
 
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 Receive© 
 
 FEB. 
 
 7 
 
 1902 
 
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 Copyright, 1901, 
 
 by 
 
 THE 
 
 Bbbe^ IP redd 
 
TO 
 
 jflD^ /iDotbet 
 
 r> WHEN FROM AFAR YOUR GENTLE EYES 
 
 SHALL REST UPON THESE PAGES 
 
 AND SEE THEREIN 
 
 MUCH THAT IS SACRED TO US BOTH, 
 
 I SHALL FEEL ASSURED OF THAT ENDURING SYMPATHY 
 
 Q THAT HAS 
 
 ENCOMPASSED AND BLESSED ME SO LONG. 
 
 M. B. H. 
 
*^ "'^OETRY reveals to us the loveliness of nature, brings 
 
 P' 
 
 back to us the freshness of youthful feeling, revives 
 the relish of simple pleasures, keeps unquenched the enthu- 
 siasm which warms the springtime of our being, refines 
 youthful love, strengthens our interest in human nature by 
 vivid delineations of its tenderest and loftiest feelings ; and 
 through the brightness of its prophetic visions helps faith to 
 lay hold on the future life." 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 As I go forth to my publishers, I deem this 
 apology necessary. These poems were not 
 written for publication, but merely to chronicle 
 an experience or observation, at different pe- 
 riods of my life, or as words of sympathy to 
 hand to a friend in bereavement. 
 
 Most of them were produced at an early age 
 and the reader will therefore readily discern 
 them to be crude and imperfect. 
 
 As our first steps are faltering and uncertain, 
 but strengthen with maturity, so are these I 
 presume to hope. 
 
 By request these fragments have been gath- 
 ered together to assume this definite form. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Birthday Wish 72 
 
 A Box of Curls 45 
 
 Absent , 79 
 
 A Fable 85 
 
 A Legend 52 
 
 A Life History 109 
 
 A Memory 31 
 
 Anemones 16 
 
 A New Year's Wish 66 
 
 An Old Virginia Garden 53 
 
 A Reverie 93 
 
 A Sister of Mercy 96 
 
 Asleep 78 
 
 A Soldier's Bride 208 
 
 At Close of Day 1 58 
 
 A Walk in Virginia 26 
 
 A Woman's Trial 272 
 
 Bedford Springs, Va 99 
 
 Bereft 117 
 
 Blind 37 
 
 Chrysanthemums 47 
 
 Didst Thou, Oh my Beloved! 89 
 
 Do You Love Me ? 76 
 
 Dr. Barten 183 
 
 Ere Years had Flown , , 41 
 
 3 
 
4 Contents. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Friend 119 
 
 Heartsease 73 
 
 Homesick 79 
 
 Honeysuckle 88 
 
 Inadequate 15 
 
 In Autumn Days 60 
 
 In the Country 35 
 
 In the Garden 1 20 
 
 I was Sick and Ye Visited Me 61 
 
 La France Roses 68 
 
 Lilies 63 
 
 Margaret J. Preston 174 
 
 My Child 69 
 
 My Flowers 102 
 
 My Mother 64 
 
 My Nurse 215 
 
 Niagara Falls 43 
 
 Only in Dreams 33 
 
 Our Beloved 39 
 
 Pansies 75 
 
 Peaks of Otter 59 
 
 Planting Freecias 91 
 
 Poplar Forest 86 
 
 Soldiers of the Grey 206 
 
 Strength , .... 8i 
 
 Sweet Peas 211 
 
 The Bell's Signal loi 
 
 The Closing Year 105 
 
 The Edwards of England 1 23 
 
 The Gift of Song 107 
 
 The Lorelei 22 
 
 The Name on the Window 82 
 
 The Old Lane 57 
 
 To Miss Steel 62 
 
 Victoria 122 
 
Contents. 5 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Virginia i8 
 
 Virginia Beach 50 
 
 Who Crowneth thy Life with Loving Kindness 29 
 
 Will She Remember Me ? 204 
 
 FOR HOLY DAYS AND MEDITATIVE HOURS. 
 
 Alone 187 
 
 Am I my Brother's Keeper ? 170 
 
 A Prayer 143 
 
 Ascension Day 1 38 
 
 Ash Wednesday 1 28 
 
 As Thou Didst Turn from Wonted Paths 165 
 
 Bereaved 145 
 
 Christmas 141 
 
 Complete 190 
 
 Duty 162 
 
 Easter Morn 1 36 
 
 Easter Thoughts 179 
 
 Every Man Went Unto His Own House, Jesus Went 
 
 Unto the Mount of Olives 177 
 
 God's Gift 1 94 
 
 Good Friday 132 
 
 Hours of the Cross 135 
 
 Hungry 193 
 
 " I am the Way " 237 
 
 " In Thee Do I Put my Trust " 196 
 
 Invocation ... 148 
 
 I Shall Rise Again 175 
 
 Lenten Bells 126 
 
 Mine Eyes shall Behold and not Another 181 
 
 My Home 163 
 
 Psalm XLII 147 
 
 Rest 202 
 
 Sabbath Bells 168 
 
 Submission 160 
 
6 Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sufficient 152 
 
 Sunset 1 57 
 
 The Good Shepherd 172 
 
 The Last Supper 130 
 
 The Soul's Plane 155 
 
 The Voice of Love 228 
 
 This Do in Remembrance of Me 184 
 
 Tired 166 
 
 Two Boys 198 
 
 Unrest 167 
 
 Watch and Pray 1 49 
 
 What Is Thy Cross ? 191 
 
 When Shadows Gather 1 53 
 
 Whitsunday 140 
 
 Why Comest Thou Not? 186 
 
 TO THE BEREAVED. 
 
 A Mother's Sorrow 230 
 
 Desolate 240 
 
 Gone Away 151 
 
 Gone Before 218 
 
 Heaven 232 
 
 His Gift 229 
 
 In Memoriam 235 
 
 " Let me Die the Death of the Righteous " 226 
 
 Look Up 221 
 
 Mildred and Carl 234 
 
 My Little Girl 242 
 
 My Song 245 
 
 Not Lost , 95 
 
 The Last Letter 223 
 
 The Silent City 216 
 
, Contents. 7 
 
 SONNETS AND SHORT POEMS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Mother's Love 253 
 
 Books 250 
 
 Chatterton 254 
 
 Compensation 20 
 
 Destruction 21 
 
 Development 251 
 
 Experience 247 
 
 Keats 257 
 
 Life 258 
 
 Milton 255 
 
 Shakespeare 256 
 
 Sorrow 248 
 
 Sympathy 252 
 
 The Goodness of God 24 
 
 The Holy Child 49 
 
UNDER THE SOUTHERN SUN. 
 
 INADEQUATE. 
 
 Could I but speak the whisperings of my 
 Soul, or silent reveal the thoughts that rise 
 Diffusing the sweetest music in my 
 Heart above life's dissonance. When mine eyes, 
 Beholding some new beauty rare, and I 
 Would tell the glory it reveals, there lies 
 No power within me thus to trace 
 It. I cannot attain to write the things 
 I know and feel. The melody that sings 
 Unto my soul I fain would pass to grace 
 Another's way. When my soul doth rise to 
 Heights empyreal and poise aloft, a 
 Yearning tender doth possess me then to 
 Lift another's soul. Barred is the way 
 1 seek; no medium have I of speech; 
 My lips are holden, though a wild desire 
 To reproduce the heights sublime I reach. 
 My heart throbs audibly with holy fire 
 And yet my words are cold, they fail to teach 
 The song I hear amid the deathless choir. 
 
 15 
 
ANEMONES. 
 
 When from Aegean's amethystine waves 
 The crystal spray leaped high in lucent air, 
 
 Fair Cytherea came forth from ocean caves 
 With pearls ashine mid her radiant hair. 
 
 The zephyrs bore her on their gentle wing 
 To find a home on Cyprus' spicy isle. 
 
 The rose and myrtle, seasons gladly bring 
 To crown their goddess, Love and Beauty's 
 child. 
 
 One day she pierced her breast with Cupid's 
 
 dart, 
 
 And deeper than she thought it thrust its 
 
 way : 
 
 The fair Adonis came and touched her heart, 
 
 And from her pain shone Love's immortal 
 
 ray. 
 i6 
 
Under the Southern Sun. 17 
 
 How short the hfe earth gives her treasures 
 rare; 
 Fair Venus, thou must drink the bitter lees. 
 Speed thy white-winged coursers through the 
 air, 
 Adonis dies beneath the emerald trees. 
 
 Cytherea bowed in sorrow deep; 
 
 Anguished tears fell from her tender eyes 
 Upon the ground, and lo! as she did weep, 
 
 Anemones came forth in brilliant guise ! 
 
 They diadem the splendor of the fields 
 
 And spread their glory 'neath the smiling 
 skies : 
 
 A tender grace their beauty still reveals; 
 Tears have their mission, born of sacrifice. 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 Oh, my Virginia, lift thy proud head ! 
 
 Beneath eternal smiles of sapphire skies. 
 
 How grandly do thy blue-veiled mountains 
 rise. 
 And rivers flow, from crystal fountains fed. 
 
 Through sun-lit valleys and their fertile fields 
 The broad Potomac proudly rolls away; 
 From winding ways the James sweeps to 
 the Bay 
 
 As golden glory on the morning steals. 
 
 The mighty ocean thunders on thy shore, 
 And echoes far through forest aisles of 
 
 green. 
 Let thy fair hand of genius still extend. 
 Thy waterways send forth the world's rich 
 store. 
 
 Keep thy firm step with progress arm in arm; 
 
 In the majestic march move grandly on; 
 i8 
 
Under the Southern Sun. 19 
 
 Do naught to pale the glory thou hast won ; 
 Speak ! For thy voice is potent still to charm ! 
 
 Within thy sacred bosom doth repose 
 The dust of thy illustrious dead 
 Oh, my Virginia, lift thy proud head ! 
 
 For from thy past a stream of glory flows. 
 
COMPENSATION. 
 
 I LOVE thee as the hhes love the sun, 
 
 And purely as the whiteness on their breast. 
 
 I love thee with the holy calm of rest. 
 
 I love thee as the light streams gently down 
 
 In radiance on the ascending plain. 
 
 And when I pass beyond the sapphire way 
 
 I'll love thee there, as I love thee to-day, 
 
 When chanting with the angels' sweet refrain. 
 
 And if thou walkest on thy way alone, 
 
 My spirit will seek thine and hover near, 
 
 To catch the faintest echo of thy tone, 
 
 And know if still thy heart doth hold me dear. 
 
 1 am content, thy love shines all around. 
 
 And maketh heavy burdens light to bear. 
 20 
 
DESTRUCTION. 
 
 Beside a path that I was wont to seek 
 And follow up its serpentining way, 
 A tall, dark cedar stood. 'Twas sweet to stray, 
 And find its friendly shade a-near to break 
 The journey's length. Within its branches 
 
 high 
 Wild birds had sought a home. About its feet 
 Convolvulus in varied hue crept nigh. 
 Around its noble form the woodbine sweet 
 Had intertwined, and climbed aloft 
 To burn its coral beauty amid the 
 Darkling green. When lo, within an idle 
 Hour, a wanton hand hath with a few fell 
 Strokes laid low nature's masterpiece. O see! 
 Its crimson heart is cut in twain. How oft 
 I sought its shade so dear, and rested here. 
 For God's own hand had builded year by year. 
 
 21 
 
THE LORELEI. 
 
 Oh Lorelei, there dost thou sit and sing! 
 While sea nymphs their gifts of rich coral 
 
 bring 
 From darkling caves of the sea far away, 
 Where mermaids hide and wild winds play, 
 And the soft winds above them are sighing. 
 
 The rosmarine gleams on thy golden hair 
 As the dew impearleth the lily fair; 
 Comb thy bright locks with thy jeweled comb 
 As the blue waves dash high above thy home, 
 And the sea winds around thee are sighing. 
 
 Oh, Lorelei, didst thou sing from thy heart 
 And sing alone for the sake of thy art, 
 I could not think thee so cruel and cold. 
 Luring to ruin on the treacherous shoals, 
 Where the soft winds around thee are sighing. 
 
 22 
 
Under the Southern Sun. 23 
 
 Thy enchanting songs so sweet and so low, 
 Rose over the Rhine in the sunset's glow. 
 Oh, where is the siren who sang so long? 
 The river flows on, I hear not her song — 
 Where the sea winds forever are sighing. 
 
THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 How complete and encompassing is the 
 
 Goodness of God! When upon the great deep 
 
 His power and majesty enfold me. 
 
 As a mother hushes her child to sleep 
 
 On her bosom, even so do I feel 
 
 The tenderness of His presence around 
 
 Me. When darkness and silence of night steal 
 
 Over the earth, and no longer resound 
 
 The carols of the birds, the beasts of the 
 
 Field lie down to rest, the infinitude 
 
 Of His mercy encompasseth all. He 
 
 Doth not slumber or sleep. The vermeil wood, 
 
 Valley and field blossom in His sunshine. 
 
 Is is the dominion of man, it was 
 
 Created for him to subdue. Divine 
 
 Life was breathed into man alone. Pause, 
 
 O soul ! and think of this Thou dost bear the 
 
 Image of the eternal Jehovah ! 
 
 Though I have journeyed and wandered afar, 
 
 At last, when tempestuous hours are over 
 24 
 
Under the Southern Sun. 25 
 
 And I lie down by life's unresting sea 
 To everlasting peace and repose, ah ! 
 Even then shall I be satisfied, 
 For I shall awake in His likeness ! 
 
A WALK IN VIRGINIA. 
 
 During these frequent walks with my dear father at my 
 early home, Beech Grove, child though I was, he taught me 
 many little quotations from the classics and made me familiar 
 with their language. His cultivated mind was as pure as it 
 was lofty. The tenderest memories cling around these as- 
 sociations, where every tree and flower is eloquent with the 
 story of some goddess, and the south wind in the magnolia 
 and myrtle a siren's song. 
 
 Now morn, her rosy steps in the Eastern clime 
 Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearL 
 
 — Milton. 
 
 Didst ever see crepe myrtle 'neath blue skies, 
 Rich pomegranates scattered on the 
 Ground, and magnolias in their grandeur rise 
 Overladen with their sweet and snowy 
 Blooms? Know, then, 'tis time to stray 'mid 
 
 woodland 
 Glades, and watch the silent beauty of its 
 Leafy shades. Nature hath a gentle hand. 
 Which we may fail to understand. She sits 
 In glory in the forest solitudes 
 And beckons us to seek her darkling groves, 
 26 
 
Under the Southern Sun. 27 
 
 In whispers soft as music's interhides. 
 The vermeil fields, where the coo of wild doves, 
 Floating low, as swxet as cygnet's song, and 
 The starry daisies bend where white flocks 
 
 stand 
 Nipping pink buds of clover. 
 
 A winding stream had found its way beside 
 A grove of beeches, and never did young 
 Ganymede bear cups of brighter vintage. 
 
 Along this walk the fringed gentians grew. 
 Lifting smiling, dreamy eyes whenever 
 You pass by. There, too, w-ere violets, blue 
 And snowy stoled, which you would never 
 Find unless you sought beneath the beeches; 
 The sweet arbutus trailing vine. Far up 
 The sloping bank, above the pebbly reaches. 
 Lobelia turned its scarlet cup 
 That nymphs might sip a nectar. Beyond the 
 Bend the yellow jessamine thickly twine 
 Their golden starry crowns. About each tree 
 Of myrtle, beech and pine, they brightly shine 
 In jew^eled glow, and breathe their perfume on 
 The lucent air, which in the dewy morn 
 Lingers with a touch divine. 
 
28 A Walk in Virginia. 
 
 Oh, where could sirens find a fairer home 
 To breathe entrancing songs upon the air 
 And touch their golden harps in melting 
 strains? 
 
 In pink profusion the wild rose grew and 
 Sweet brier interlaced the dogwood tree 
 And cypress tall, which in my forest stand. 
 The Virginia creeper, wild and free, 
 In brilliant crimson glory amid bright 
 Laurel's tresses, like fair Daphne hiding 
 Through intercepted streams of golden light. 
 Here maples 'spread their little carmine wing, 
 And Evening Primrose w^atch the ferns unfurl. 
 Amid great oaks the mistletoe doth bloom. 
 And hollies veiled in Southern moss of pearl. 
 As a bride adorned for her bridegroom. 
 As swift as Mercury's winged feet, upon 
 These w^oodland scenes the shadows quickly 
 
 come, 
 And we, though loth to leave, turn toward 
 
 home. 
 
WHO CROWNETH THY LIFE WITH 
 LOVING KINDNESS. 
 
 Upon the violet's breast 
 I see the tracing of His hand 
 Upon the tinted Autumn leaves, 
 Upon the mighty torrent grand — 
 I see and try to understand, 
 That God is good. 
 
 Upon the snow-clad peaks, 
 Towering high, I trace His pow'r; 
 I feel it on the restless deep. 
 When stinging winds sweep down, the hour 
 Grows dark, the night clouds lower. 
 Then God is good. 
 
 Upon the sunset's glow 
 
 His love I trace. I sometimes see 
 
 Bright forms as angels come and go, 
 
 Reflected from the sapphire sea. 
 
 Its silent glory breathes on me. 
 
 Thy God is good. 
 
 29 
 
30 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Enshrined in holy 
 Lives His divinity I trace, 
 They catch the reflex of His love, 
 Which glorifies with tender grace. 
 I see and read upon their face 
 That God is good. 
 
 In forest solitude, 
 
 Where warblers wing their homeward flight, 
 Listening glades repeat afar 
 Their gladsome music of delight. 
 I catch through strains of carols bright — 
 Thy God is good. 
 
 I see His majesty 
 
 Enthroned, when daylight calmly dies. 
 The stars afloat in seas of light, 
 Are footprints on the silent skies 
 Of seraphs from God's Paradise, 
 To tell us He is good. 
 
!A MEMORY. 
 
 I WAS quietly reading my book just now, 
 And as I was turning over a leaf 
 
 I came upon these forget-me-nots, 
 As a sailor sails on a hidden reef. 
 
 We sat in the cool, sweet garden shade, — 
 She was reading aloud this book to me. 
 
 But as she read these words she paused, 
 And I knew she was thinking of me. 
 
 " Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven 
 Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels." 
 
 She unpinned a flower from her breast, 
 
 A pale forget-me-not, and laid it there, 
 " Think of me when you see this again,'' she 
 said, 
 While the sun's last beam played o'er her 
 Titian hair. 
 
 A softening shade from the heavens fell, 
 Entrancing the beauty around us, 
 
 3^ 
 
32 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 The white-stoled HHes' odorous breath 
 Crept out on the silence that bound us. 
 
 The Dresden clock on the mantel there, with 
 Its shining golden face ticks softly on, 
 
 Faithfully marking the fast fleeting hours, — 
 The sweet, lost hours, alas! we know are 
 gone. 
 
 Did I fall asleep and did I dream she 
 Was standing here beside my chair? 
 
 In the mellow tinge of the firelight glow 
 Where strange shadows appear and disap- 
 pear. 
 
 I wonder if ever our lost can come 
 Back and tenderly linger beside us? 
 
 I wonder if they know our solemn need 
 And lovingly minister unto us. 
 
 Or did the touch of this little flower 
 
 Turn back the noiseless tide of years and 
 give 
 Me one moment the dear lost days, — the days 
 Which unto my heart are my soul's re- 
 prieve. 
 
ONLY IN DREAMS. 
 
 To distant fields of ripening grain 
 
 I wandered back one day, 
 And walked in the old beech forest, 
 
 Where the shadows softly play. 
 
 Oh, sweet 3s music's tender strain came 
 The sound of wind through the wheat, 
 
 And the thrush's warbling note rang as clear. 
 Again by the river seat. 
 
 Pale wind-flowers bent on slender stems, 
 
 And dainty gentians grew 
 Along the winding primrose path, 
 
 Impearled with the dew. 
 
 Sweet brier climbed to the window seat, 
 Where my mother's gentle face 
 
 Bent over the w^ork her soft white hands 
 Fashioned with comely grace. 
 
 Orioles built their nests aloft in 
 Trees at the foot of the lawn. 
 3 33 
 
34 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Oh sweet are the songs the wild birds sing 
 At the rosy flush of morn. 
 
 I hear the lowing of the kine 
 
 Over field and distant lea — 
 Oh, no, my heart, it is not so ! 
 
 'Tis the moaning of the sea ! 
 
 I listen again, 'tis the city's 
 
 Din and sound of restless feet, 
 As they anxiously hurry onward, 
 
 O'er the crowded, dusty street. 
 
 I never may see these scenes again; 
 
 It is only thus in dreams 
 That I wander back, a child once more, 
 
 And linger by the streams. 
 
IN THE COUNTRY, 
 
 The daisies, vermeil-rimmed and white, 
 Hide in deep herbage ; and ere yet the bees 
 Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas. 
 
 — Keats. 
 
 How beautiful is everything! 
 
 The soft blue skies above, 
 The emerald green beneath our feet. 
 
 All speak God's matchlessl love. 
 
 The rippling water's music falls, in 
 
 Distant, low cadences: 
 The soughing pines gleam tall beyond 'the 
 
 Rustic winding fences. 
 
 The primrose lifts its dewy face, in 
 
 Wonder at my coming. 
 The robin sings his merry songs, while 
 
 Bees are slowly humming. 
 
 The kine knee deep in buttercups, and 
 Fragrant fields of clover, 
 
 35 
 
36 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Hemmed in by orchards laden and 
 Grapevines bending over. 
 
 The nightingale's low song I hear in 
 
 Thrilling strains of sweetness — 
 What hand hath power to form this scene in 
 
 Nature's rich completeness! 
 
BLIND. 
 
 By the pain-throb, triumphantly winning intensified bliss 
 And the next world's reward and repose by the struggles of this. 
 
 — Robert Browning. 
 
 As a ravening wolf 
 
 A flame leaps on 
 And strikes its fangs into my trembling breast. 
 With pallid face I shrink away forlorn 
 
 Beneath this cross of fire! 
 
 Sometimes it wanes so low 
 
 I dream it dead. 
 I smile triumphantly and hurry on 
 Forgetful of its sting, I do not dread 
 
 To bear its weight or size. 
 
 t 
 
 Then in my brightest hour 
 
 It falls again. 
 And I with wild despairing heart cry ouf, 
 " I am too weak to bear my spirit's pain, 
 
 This heavy cross of fire." 
 
 37 
 
38 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 When, lo ! I hear a voice, 
 
 '' I gave thy cross 
 To thee, thy poor dim eyes mistake its size; 
 Its purpose thou art bhnd to see. Its loss 
 
 Would be a cruel cross. 
 
 " Look through its lambent light 
 
 And there discern. 
 The true, the false, about thy daily path. 
 Its lurid flame reflects the heart. Return 
 
 And seek again thy cross. 
 
 '' Bear it with me, and thou 
 
 Shalt find it light. 
 My heedful angels ever wing their way 
 To watch and comfort thee." Then on my 
 sight 
 
 There shone a strange new light. 
 
 It shed upon my cross 
 
 A halo bright. 
 I took it then, and hid it in my breast. 
 It was so small, there unguessed gleams white 
 
 The cross of pearl I bear. 
 
OUR BELOVED. 
 
 Let us be kind to our beloved, 
 
 Before we walk alone. 
 Let us withhold the bitter word 
 
 The cruel tone. 
 
 If they perchance should wound our hearts 
 
 By some small digression. 
 We will be quick to overlook 
 
 Indiscretion. 
 
 They are so kind to help us bear 
 
 When we meet a sorrow; 
 They smoothe for us the pathway rough. 
 
 Of to-morrow. 
 
 They are so strong to lean upon, 
 
 And by their abnegation: 
 Their dear hands turn to us in tender 
 
 Ministration. 
 
 They are so good when hours grow dark, 
 They seek our load to lighten, 
 
 S9 
 
40 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And sweetly point the way where the 
 Cloud will brighten. 
 
 It is a little way we go, 
 
 Side by side together, 
 To-day while still we may, we will cheer 
 
 One another. 
 
 We will be kind to our beloved, 
 
 For ere to-morrow's sun, 
 God may stoop down and whisper low, 
 
 " Thy crown is won." 
 
ERE YEARS HAD FLOWN. 
 
 Oh, let my heart find rest, the deep, deep rest 
 
 That I have known. 
 In the fragrant fields where cowslips bloomed.. 
 
 Ere years had flown. 
 
 Flowering orchards, with their incense sweet, 
 
 Call me again. 
 And woo me back to seek their tranquil shades, 
 
 Forgetting pain. 
 
 Still bloom the lilies by the path I love : 
 
 Poor soulless things. 
 While, oh, so much that made my life most 
 sweet 
 Hath taken wings. 
 
 > 
 Still over those radiant fields I hear 
 
 A lark's clear song; 
 Pouring its pulsing gladness on my ear — 
 
 Yet I go on. 
 
 41 
 
42 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 I have wandered on afar to meet 
 
 Earth's carping care; 
 But, oh, my heart, it doth not steal from thee 
 
 Memories dear. 
 
 So we may go unto those fragrant ways, 
 
 And rest again. 
 Within their dewy borders whisper low 
 
 A sweet refrain. 
 
NIAGARA FALLS. 
 
 'TwAS on a perfect Sabbath morn 
 I stood upon Lake Erie's shore, 
 
 Watching the gHstening waters, 
 As its thundering vokimes pour. 
 
 The wide bkie waters seethe and whirl, 
 
 Tossed ever in wild unrest; 
 They leap adown the chasm vast and 
 
 Sink into Niagara's breast. 
 
 Great rocks uplift their granite strength, 
 Thro' foaming columns which descend, 
 
 While rainbows, circling from each fall, 
 Their arc of perfect beauty lend. 
 
 Soft vapors rise and float above. 
 To mingle with their kindred skies; 
 
 In hues divine they gently glide. 
 Under the walls of Paradise. 
 
 An opalescent light unfolds, 
 In tints of wondrous splendor; 
 
 43 
 
44 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 While symphonies of sound repeat, 
 In whisperings sweet and tender. 
 
 The balmy air is moist with spray, 
 And hoarse with the water's thunder, 
 
 Majestic torrents roll and plunge, 
 While I stand there lost in wonder! 
 
 Calm thoughts of rest; great thoughts of God! 
 
 Supreme, Eternal in His might, 
 Is graven in these hills and rocks, 
 
 And stamped upon this wondrous sight. 
 
A BOX OF CURLS. 
 
 And the red young mouth and the hair's young gold. 
 
 — Robert Browning. 
 
 I SIT and hold in my hands to-day 
 
 A box of golden curls ; 
 They clustered once around a fair young face 
 As dew the lily impearls. 
 These beautiful golden curls 
 These ringlets of golden brightness. 
 
 Some lessons of life are hard to learn, 
 
 And bitter in their learning; 
 Some hopes die hard, we hold them so near 
 Our hearts in tender yearning. 
 Like these beautiful golden curls 
 These ringlets of golden brightness. 
 
 The sun lights up each golden thread, they 
 Shine with their old-time brightness, 
 
 As in the days of long ago when 
 
 They crowned a brow of whiteness. - 
 
 45 
 
46 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 These beautiful golden curls, 
 These ringlets of golden brightness. 
 
 Why do I sit and dream to-day and 
 
 Softly touch and caress them? 
 Why will the past come back from its grave 
 As I tenderly bless them ? 
 These beautiful golden curls, 
 These ringlets of golden brightness. 
 
CHRYSANTHEMUMS. 
 
 See in the bright December air, 
 Through my garden everywhere, 
 Beneath my window, in the sun, 
 They nod a welcome every one. 
 And when the cares that fill the day, 
 Doth one by one each flit away, 
 I seek the quiet and repose 
 That sheds its calm at daylight's close, 
 Again they through my window peep 
 And wish me blissful dreams and sleep. 
 They bear the chill and frosty night, 
 And smile again with morning light. 
 The north wind chants in solemn tone, 
 A requiem o'er blossoms gone. 
 The singing wind becomes a blast, 
 Yet not a leaf these blossoms cast. 
 They bend and sway, but stand again, 
 As if harsh things avoided them; 
 Then in their purity they rise, 
 And heavenward turn again their eyes. 
 
 47 
 
48 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 The storm that renf their gentle breast 
 Leaves to them a jeweled crest. 
 These graceful, fluffy, snowy things 
 A sweet delight in winter brings. 
 The brown leaves flutter o'er the lawn, 
 The summer beauties all are gone, 
 Save here and there a crimson rose 
 In velvet richness softly glows. 
 Brilliant tints of summer flowers 
 Smiled and fled with balmy hours. 
 The year itself now wanes and dies, 
 And youth's bright hope as swiftly flies; 
 When, lo, these angels of the air 
 Lift their radiant faces fair. 
 And breathe to me a promise bright, 
 " At evening time it shall be light." 
 Dec. 17th, 1900. 
 
THE HOLY CHILD. 
 
 The mother watched her child first poise, and 
 Stand alone, as any mother might. He 
 Trembling stood, then opened wide each hand 
 And stretching forth his infant arms in glee, 
 Smiled to her, that he alone could stand 
 Without guidance of her gentle hand. She 
 Gazing through the vista of coming years, 
 So full for her of nameless fear and loss, 
 She saw through eyes, as yet undimmed by 
 
 tears. 
 Her child thus standing there, outlined a cross. 
 4 49 
 
VIRGINIA BEACH. 
 
 As I stroll on the golden sands to-day, 
 And watch the wonderful ocean, 
 
 The sails on its bosom, gliding away. 
 Thrill me w^ith pleasant emotion. 
 
 Now the bright blue waves come rolling in 
 
 And break over the sunny beach, 
 With a bound and crash and roaring din, 
 
 As far as the eye can reach. 
 
 White seagulls dip in the foaming spray, 
 As snowflakes falling before me; 
 
 Then spreading their wings and skimming 
 away 
 Over the rolling opal sea. 
 
 The gleaming sands, with the pretty shells. 
 
 Cast up by the waves of the sea. 
 The roar of the surf as distant bells, 
 
 Come floating like music to me. 
 5<^ 
 
Virginia Beach. gi 
 
 Soft clouds bend low impearled in light, 
 
 Lending their deep tranquillity 
 Drooping as a seraph's pinion bright — 
 
 Oh wonderful, beautiful sea! 
 
A LEGEND. 
 
 When Christ our Saviour hun^ upon the 
 cross, 
 
 And bowed His head unto a death of shame ; 
 Behold within that darkened hour, 
 
 The Httle fairies came. 
 
 In every land, in every clime, 
 
 They humbly bent their solemn little faces, 
 And quickly set to work with reverent hands 
 
 In the rocky places. 
 
 They deftly carved with sure intent, a 
 
 Tribute with their light and noiseless fingers; 
 
 And the work they did that day, in the 
 Mountain fastness lingers. 
 
 In the misty veil of the Blue Ridge calm, 
 A place where stones lie thick upon the 
 ground, 
 Lo, every one you chance to see, a 
 Cross is graven thereon. 
 52 
 
AN OLD VIRGINIA GARDEN. 
 
 Come walk with me beneath yon stately oaks, 
 
 And see the flowers I love — 
 My mother's flowers, in beds beside the 
 
 Path my willing feet oft rove. 
 
 The rose of Sharon droops its regal head 
 
 O'er beds of mignonette; 
 Scarlet poppies in their brilliant beauty 
 
 Burn above the violet. 
 
 Gay hollyhocks stand just under the wall, 
 
 In many varied hue, 
 While sweet narcissus holds her golden cup 
 
 To gather drops of dew. 
 
 Bright columbine nods in the summer breeze, 
 
 And the heart's-ease little face 
 Doth slily peep to catch sweet William's bow, 
 
 He makes with becoming grace. 
 
 The lily of the valley lowly bends 
 Its snowy, waxen bell, 
 
 53 
 
54 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And whispers secrets to the mountain pink 
 Which she must never tell. 
 
 The fragrant lilac waves it graceful plumes 
 
 Low bending o'er the rose. 
 The wall flower yields its subtle sweet, 
 
 Where the charming bluebell grows. 
 
 The tulip shyly folds her crimson skirt 
 
 Beneath the dahlia's gaze. 
 The jasmine lifts its starry eyes, where 
 
 Brown-eyed susan plays. 
 
 A gay young coxcomb smiles at iris fair 
 
 In graceful dress of blue; 
 Petunia beds and scarlet sage lie 
 
 Sparkling in the dew. 
 
 The sweet syringa in her bridal robes 
 Bows low to the grand snowball. 
 
 And hyacinths bloom in heavenly hues, 
 Where snowdrops lightly fall. 
 
 The rose of heaven unfolds her velvet 
 
 Robe, and periwinkles f eep. 
 And, wondering, ask the cowslips why 
 
 The portulacas sleep. 
 
An Old Virginia Garden. 55 
 
 The fair Adonis turns his meUing eyes 
 
 To meet the daisies' glance, 
 The cypress on its trellis climbs to watch 
 
 Carnations lightly dance. 
 
 The London pride stands straight and stiff 
 to see 
 
 Brilliant peonies shed 
 Their carmine beauty in the Springtime sun, 
 
 On sweet alyssum's head. 
 
 Verbenas rich as summer sunset skies 
 
 Spread 'round gaillardia's way. 
 Hydrangeas whisper to the morning bride, 
 
 And ragged robins play. 
 
 The star of Bethlehem in pity looks 
 
 Upon the bleeding heart. 
 The gleaming gold of the daffodils shine 
 
 Where buds of crimson part. 
 
 The tall pale Hlies meekly bow their heads, 
 
 As cloistered nuns at prayer. 
 The perfume from their pure and spotless 
 breasts 
 
 Steals softly on the air. 
 
S6 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 As angels fold their radiant wings, 
 So droop these flowers to rest — 
 
 But come, 'tis time to go, I hear the 
 Mocking singing to its nest. 
 
THE OLD LANE. 
 
 In Virginia's fair sweet land, 
 There winds a country lane. 
 
 On one side sweeps a limpid stream, 
 Through fields of golden grain. 
 
 The hawthorn and the cherry trees 
 
 O'erhang the shaded way, 
 While ferns unroll their tender fronds 
 
 To greet the air of May. 
 
 Blue corn flowers, and sweet myrtle, 
 With asphodels grow here; 
 
 The winds are murmuring softly. 
 And mocking birds sing near. 
 
 Violets and primroses peep, 
 
 Beneath the eglantine : 
 And, oh, the skies seem always blue 
 
 In this soft summer clime. 
 
 Ah, me! the path is overgrown. 
 And those who loved to stray 
 
 57 
 
58 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Beneath its sweet and peaceful shade 
 Have wandered far away. 
 
 Some walk the tangled ways of life, 
 Some walk no more with me! 
 
 Their feet press now a distant shore, 
 In lands beyond the sea. 
 
PEAKS OF OTTER. 
 
 The mighty peaks in grandeur stand 
 
 Outlined upon the skies, 
 While fleecy clouds go floating by, 
 
 And zephyrs softly rise. 
 
 A lark in the distant fields, 
 Sings over its gleeful song. 
 
 The changing colors come and go. 
 On the mountains all day long. 
 
 An artist sits in the foreground. 
 Painting the beautiful scene. 
 
 A picture rare from nature fair. 
 Recalling what has been. 
 
 59 
 
IN AUTUMN DAYS. 
 
 Autumn days have breathed upon 
 The highways and the hedges, 
 
 Leaving crimson here and carmine there, 
 Far up the distant ledges. 
 
 The air unfolds a mellow light. 
 
 Soft as twilight waters; 
 As if 'twere loath to leave so soon. 
 
 For chilling winter quarters. 
 
 The trees unfurl their banners gay. 
 The sunlight glints on the pines, 
 
 Then trembling on the crest of the wave. 
 In golden glory shines. 
 
 The majestic sun-crowned hills 
 
 In soft and purple haze. 
 Their summits rise 'neath sapphire skies. 
 
 Oh, halcyon autumn days. 
 60 
 
"I WAS SICK AND YE VISITED 
 ME." 
 
 Carnations are sweet, 
 
 But sweeter the friend 
 So mindful of me — 
 
 A neighbor unseen. 
 
 I enjoy such gifts 
 
 From the hand of my friend, 
 But then I remember 
 
 I have nothing to send. 
 
 But somewhere I read 
 ('Tis a comfort to me)' 
 As ye did it to these 
 Ye did it to me. 
 
 Baltimore, 1897. 
 
 6r 
 
TO MISS steel; 
 
 I THANK you, my friend, 
 For the words you express, 
 They speak my own thoughts 
 Of our darhng Bess. 
 What comfort she brings 
 In her soft quiet hand; 
 How sweetly she soothes 
 As a woman can. 
 Then up and away, 
 As a lark to her nest, 
 Leaving her blessing 
 To hallow my rest. 
 
 Baltimore, July, 1897. 
 62 
 
LILIES. 
 
 Oh, the fair, sweet flowers, they mean so much 
 
 to me. 
 Let them breathe of Hfe and immortaHty to 
 
 thee. 
 In their fading beauty, they seem to me as 
 
 given, 
 To cheer our weary hearts, and point to rest 
 
 in heaven. 
 
 63 
 
MY MOTHER. 
 
 Of all the good gifts sent clown from heaven, 
 The sweetest and best to me has been given : 
 A dear Christian mother so full of love, — 
 Love that finds source in the Kingdom above; 
 Patient and gentle, guiding day by day 
 The little feet in the narrow way 
 Through childhood's days unto maturer years, 
 Through joy, through sorrow, through hope 
 
 and through fears. 
 No hand so tender to soothe away pain; 
 No voice so sweet in the evening hymn; 
 No love in its purity deep as thine — 
 Thy love is unselfish, Christ-like, divine! 
 Oh, mother, the years are passing so fast 
 In a distant land my lot has been cast; 
 I miss thy sweet counsel, though it shines afar. 
 For thou art ever my guiding star. 
 Mother, if thou shouldst go home before me, 
 Linger a while by the sunlit sea ; 
 Listen for the sound of my coming feet, 
 
 Wait for thy child by the golden gate. 
 64 
 
My Mother. 65 
 
 But, mother, if God in His wisdom should see, 
 
 It were best I should go home before thee, 
 
 I'll watch for thee in that heavenly land, 
 
 I'll be the first to touch thy hand, 
 
 ril be the first in the angelic throng 
 
 To welcome thee there from thy journey long. 
 
 While seraphs bend low o'er their harps of 
 
 gold, 
 Heaven's new glory will softly unfold. 
 
A NEW YEAR'S WISH. 
 
 May the coming year dawn bright and clear, 
 
 Unfolding joys divine 
 To bless and cheer my friend most dear, 
 
 Is a holy wish of mine. 
 
 May spirits true, — alas ! how few, — 
 Draw near thy " heart of gold," 
 
 And still renew as Heavenly dew 
 The flower of tender mold. 
 
 May purest love as stars above 
 Their countless lights send down, 
 
 As steadfast prove, quick to remove 
 The shadows falling round. 
 
 May naught arise to cloud the skies 
 
 That bound life's little w^ay; 
 Thy soul descries with sweet surprise 
 
 The source of perfect day. 
 
 May the year, replete with blessings meet 
 
 As ever a year may be, 
 66 
 
A New Year's Wish. 
 
 Fall soft and sweet beneath thy feet, 
 Is my wish, oh friend, for thee. 
 
 Though other years have brought thee tears, 
 
 May this one bring delight, 
 And shine afar as a silver star 
 
 In the coronal of night. 
 
LA FRANCE ROSES. 
 
 To Mrs. George Hill, Alexandria, Va. 
 
 I THANK you, my friend, for the flowers g-iven ; 
 They come as a breath from the sweet fields of 
 
 Heaven. 
 I look in their faces, and they speak to me, 
 Of my Southern home by the beautiful sea; 
 Then they speak of my darling with sunny 
 
 hair, 
 With a voice so sweet and a face so fair. 
 Far, oh, so far away in that distant home! 
 Who begs each day for dear mama to come. 
 One day I shall leave this bed of pain. 
 And loved ones will welcome me back again. 
 But I will remember the friend who sent 
 
 flowers 
 
 Breathing sweet thoughts to soothe weary 
 
 hours. 
 68 
 
MY CHILD. 
 
 I LOVE thy merry voice, my child, 
 And the sheen of thy golden hair ; 
 
 I fain would keep thee without guile, 
 And shield thee from a \veight of care. 
 
 I tremble to think of the years, 
 
 That must bring to my darling tears. 
 
 The silver must creep through the gold. 
 And change its shining waves of light; 
 
 Thy tender eyes may yet behold, 
 
 Thy fairest treasures fade from sight. 
 
 Oh, then, my child, remember how 
 
 Thy mother, too, hath wept as thou. 
 
 Thy way may lead from cross to cross, 
 Where thorns may pierce thy tender feet, 
 
 Thy heart may feel a bitter loss — 
 Rue ever mingles watli the sweet. 
 
 Be strong, sweet child, — my heart hath bled; 
 
 In death's shadow I have prayed. 
 
 69 
 
70 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 In joy or pain, thy mother's prayers 
 Hath hallowed every hour; 
 
 My soul in travail and in tears 
 
 Sought for thee a priceless dower. 
 
 Know, my child, whatever may be, 
 
 I have agonized for thee. 
 
HOMESICK. 
 
 Dear mother, I'm homesick, how can I rest? 
 I'm longing to fly to my own home nest. 
 My heart is so hungry to-night to enfold 
 My babes to my bosom just once, as of old; 
 To look in their faces, their tender eyes, 
 Reflecting the blue of the quiet skies. 
 I know I ought not to tell this to you, 
 When perchance you are sad and lonely too; 
 But as some poor lamb goes bleating alone 
 I seek thy sweet counsel, mother my own. 
 
 71 
 
A BIRTHDAY WISH. 
 
 The coming years spread out before 
 
 With alluring hope and pleasure; 
 May no dark cloud o'ercast thy sky 
 
 To shadow thy heart's best treasure. 
 If thy wine of life should prove to 
 
 Be bitter instead of sweetness, 
 May faith unfold her starry wings 
 
 And gild thy pathway with brightness, 
 May love its gentle radiance 
 
 Cast, whatever may portend, 
 
 Its sheltering beams burn bright and 
 
 Sovereign light thy ways attend. 
 72 
 
HEART'S-EASE. 
 
 No moon succeeds the sun, 
 Nor can pierce the midnight's tent any star. 
 — Robert Browninc 
 
 One summer night, no stars, no moon, 
 
 But hurrying clouds overhead; 
 No promenades, no quiet walks, 
 
 Nothing to do but muse and read. 
 Then stealing through the solitude 
 
 Came a bright little maiden fair, 
 In dress of white, with ribbons blue, 
 
 And sunlight over her hair. 
 
 'Twas little Heart's-ease and her doll, 
 
 So eager to tell what she sees; 
 And her rippling laugh flows on 
 
 As starlight glints through the trees. 
 Reciting in her sweetest way, 
 
 " Curfew shall not ring to-night," 
 Then with her eyes downcast, she gave, 
 
 " The soldier's bride," 'twas her delight. 
 
 73 
 
74 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Then in a merry voice she sang 
 
 " The robin in the maple tree/' 
 " Where are you going, pretty maid." 
 
 Her voice rang out so sweet and free. 
 Her face all wreathed in smiles, 
 
 And the gleam of her sunny hair, 
 She tripped so lightly away. 
 
 Leaving gladness everywhere. 
 
 And then we found little Heart's-ease 
 
 Had a true and tender heart. 
 Smiling to those by the wayside 
 
 With her innocent childish art. 
 Her bright life is filled with love. 
 
 And like the sweet woodland flowers. 
 The soft light beaming from her eyes 
 
 Doth deeply stir these hearts of ours. 
 
PANSIES. 
 
 Only a few little pansies, 
 
 Fading away — 
 These are the flowers she sent me 
 
 One summer day. 
 Some are purple with golden hearts, 
 
 And some are blue, 
 Like the eyes of her who sent them, 
 
 Tender and true. 
 Only a few little pansies 
 
 Out of the past; 
 But they speak of tender hours far 
 
 Too sweet to last. 
 Through gathering tears I kiss each 
 
 Little flower; 
 They stir the deepest chords of love 
 
 .With strange, sweet power. 
 
 75 
 
DO YOU LOVE ME? 
 
 " Oh, child ! you worry me to death," 
 
 I sharply said. 
 " How can I stitch your little coat, when 
 
 You hide my thread? 
 How can I ever read my book? 
 
 Now go away. 
 I cannot read and talk to you — 
 
 Run off and play." 
 He did not go away, but climbed 
 
 Upon my knee. 
 And slowly said, with downcast eyes, 
 
 '' Do you love me? " 
 The light of Heaven would pale for me, 
 
 O little boy ! 
 If aught should steal thee from my arms, 
 
 My holy joy. 
 How could I ever read or sew, 
 
 If eyes of blue 
 
 Did not come smiling oft at me, 
 
 The whole day through? 
 76 
 
Do You Love Me. 11 
 
 Do I love thee ? O wine of life. 
 
 My child thou art. 
 Thou claspest in thy little hands 
 
 Thy mother's heart. 
 
ASLEEP. 
 
 Oh, sleep, it is a gentle thing. 
 
 — Coleridge. 
 
 Reclining on a crimson couch, 
 
 In a robe of snowy whiteness, 
 The pretty arms but half concealed, 
 
 And feet in sandals of brightness. 
 
 The golden threads of sunny hair 
 
 Fold her in tender embraces, 
 The drooping lashes hide bright eyes, 
 
 And dimpled cheeks invite caresses. 
 
 Dream on, sweet one, thy little life 
 Winds only through bright places; 
 
 May angel wings droop soft and light, 
 To lend thee heavenly graces. 
 78 
 
ABSENT. 
 
 Of all the scenes I cherish, 
 And love to muse upon, 
 
 This one is oft before me, 
 
 When the darkness cometh on. 
 
 A little white-robed figure^ 
 With flowing, sunny hair, 
 
 Steals softly through the silence 
 And kneels beside my chair. 
 
 I hear a gentle murmur. 
 Repeated again and again, 
 
 " Dear Jesus, forgive my sins. 
 And make me good. Amen. 
 
 )> 
 
 Then tucked in her little bed, 
 I watch her fair, sweet face, 
 
 Nestling among the pillows. 
 In innocent childish grace. 
 
 79 
 
8o Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 As soft as an angel's song, 
 Her words float back again, 
 
 As waves of music fall 
 
 In rhythm of sweet refrain. 
 
STRENGTH. 
 
 On heavenly hills my soul would rest, 
 
 To strengthen for the fight, 
 To gird her armor tightly on, 
 
 Ere striking for the right. 
 
 Though conflicts strange and sharp may come, 
 
 Encompassed by thy peace, 
 My soul grows strong to face them all, 
 
 Till discords dark shall cease. 
 
 Straight on my heavenward way, 
 
 I will not turn aside, 
 
 But boldly press the narrow path, 
 
 Till I with Thee abide. 
 6 8i 
 
THE NAME ON THE WINDOW. 
 
 The mother cast a worried glance — 
 
 " Who hath dared to trace upon 
 My window's crystal bright," she said, 
 " What guilty hand this deed hath done ? 
 These ugly lines, 
 Like broken vines, 
 Upon my window pane ! " 
 
 A voice replied, " When you left 
 
 The room, oh mother dear, I took 
 Your diamond ring and wrote my name 
 Above your window seat, come, look — 
 I thought some day, 
 When I'm away. 
 You could remember me. 
 
 " I wrote it there for you to see — 
 
 It cannot be rubbed away ; 
 I wrote the very best I could, 
 
 And thought, what will my mother say? 
 I wrote it there 
 
 S2 
 
The Name on the Window. 83 
 
 With toil and care, 
 So you could remember me." 
 
 Then in the mother's gentle eyes 
 
 These trembling lines at once became 
 As precious jewels in her sight. 
 As there she traces out his name, 
 The crooked lines 
 Her heart entwines. 
 With tendrils deep and strong. 
 
 In after years the scholar bends 
 
 Above his books in research deep. 
 The mother watches from afar 
 His soul expand and honors sweep 
 Around his name, 
 Now crowned with fame, 
 Beyond the distant seas. 
 
 His swift pen speeds a message grand, 
 
 It lifts the noblest type of man, 
 And throbs in minor chords upon 
 The heart strings of humanity. 
 As dew and fire 
 His magic lyre 
 In sweet crescendos sweep. 
 
84 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 The full siistainment of his love 
 
 Flows round the mother broad and free; 
 She hears the songs her singer sings, 
 Then lifts her eyes above to see 
 The crooked lines 
 Like broken vines, 
 Upon the window pane. 
 
 Again the trustful eyes of blue 
 
 Are smiling sweetly at her side — 
 '' I wrote it there for you to see '* 
 Float back as a refluent tide. 
 " I thought some day. 
 When I'm away. 
 You could remember me." 
 
 And dearer to the mother's heart 
 
 Is the name above her window seat; 
 It binds her to a golden past — 
 
 It makes him all her own, though sweet 
 The voice of fame, 
 That breathes his name 
 And worships at his throne. 
 
A FABLE. 
 
 'TwAS very long ago, thus have I read, 
 At first our bhthesome warblers could not fly; 
 A tender God stooped down and showed 
 Them wings, that they might cleave the distant 
 
 sky. 
 '* Bear these thy burdens now for duty's sake/' 
 They took them, and behold, to their delight. 
 Were upward borne into ethereal blue. 
 Their burdens bore them up in heavenward 
 
 flight, 
 Above earth's dissonance they calmly soar 
 Amid bright seas of cloud and sapphire blue, 
 Where peace eternal and profound doth reign. 
 So thou, oh soul ! may rise exultant too. 
 What seems to thee a burden, may be wings, 
 To bear thy soul above to heights sublime, 
 Each duty done, each burden borne, yet brings 
 The power to lift thee to thy sphere divine. 
 
 85 
 
POPLAR FOREST. 
 
 Summer home of Jefferson. 
 
 Gently blew the soft winds of September 
 
 Thro' the murmuring leaves of the aspen, 
 
 Uplifting their silvery whiteness 
 
 Around the halls of Poplar Forest. 
 
 The ivy still clings to the casement, 
 
 Where perchance sat the master and planned 
 
 For a nation that now hath grown mighty 
 
 No sound on the deepening silence, 
 
 Save the tinkling bells in the distance 
 
 Of herds on the green undulations. 
 
 The haze of the Indian summer 
 
 Enwrapped the mountains around us ; 
 
 Camelion lights in the heavens 
 
 Flashed and burned into crimson ; 
 
 While the soft purpling clouds of sunset, 
 
 Deeply fringed in golden splendor. 
 
 Stretched across the western horizon 
 
 A picture of infinite glory. 
 
 From forest and field rose a sweetness 
 86 
 
Poplar Forest. 87 
 
 Of delicious and delicate fragrance, 
 As winds from the home of the orange. 
 Forgetting the world in the distance, 
 We mused on the past and its glory, 
 Till heralds of night lower'd gently 
 Imperial curtains of twilight ; 
 Then leaving the hall and its memories. 
 We retraced our way through the forest. 
 
HONEYSUCKLE. 
 
 What memories this flower brings! 
 
 As a mist steals over my eyes; 
 And in my breast what sad, sweet thoughts 
 
 Of distant Southern skies. 
 
 Visions of home and children dear. 
 
 Float to me on golden wings of love; 
 
 While the fragrance gently lingers, 
 As blessings from above. 
 
 Baltimore, July, 1897. 
 88 
 
DIDST THOU, OH, MY BELOVED! 
 
 On high behests his angels to and fro 
 Passed frequent. 
 
 — Milton. 
 
 Didst thou, oh, my beloved, for one moment 
 
 come down — 
 Didst thou leave thy bright home and thy 
 
 glorious crown 
 To softly fold thy white wings and bend low 
 
 over me 
 Till my soul was entranced with this sweet 
 
 ecstasy. 
 
 Did my heart's wild yearning, in its passionate 
 
 pain, 
 Pierce yon distant blue, as if to mingle its 
 
 strain 
 With the glad voices of angels seeking to find 
 My darling there, 'mid the countless throng 
 
 whose love doth bind. 
 
 With ties deep and strong, death itself cannot 
 sever. 
 
 89 
 
90 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Oh, no ! my beloved, it must live on forever. 
 As the soul is immortal, so must be our love, 
 Though I journey below and thou livest above. 
 
 Oh, plume thy radiant wings! leave thy blest 
 
 employ, 
 Come whisper unto me of Heaven and thy joy. 
 Let me but feel thy presence and know thou 
 
 art near 
 Then thy sweet ministrations the future will 
 
 clear. 
 
PLANTING FREECIAS. 
 
 When Summer has gone and Autumn come 
 Make for these bulbs a snug little home. 
 In rich, loamy soil, moisten as dew, 
 And soon they will coyly peep at you. 
 First, pale green leaves, then the pure white 
 
 flower 
 Perchance to gladden a dreary hour. 
 
 (I almost omitted this to say) 
 
 They love to sit where the sunbeams play. 
 
 Let the first rays of the morning sun 
 
 Glance over these beauties one by one. 
 
 Within their white-stoled bosom glows 
 
 Distilled sweets of the damask rose. 
 
 These freecias slept the whole summer 
 
 through, 
 When the air was warm and skies were blue, 
 When winter winds chant a swelling psalm 
 They wake and bewitch you with their charm. 
 
 91 
 
92 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 They always seemed like faith to me, 
 Casting a light on a troubled sea : 
 Plant and nurse it and hide in your breast, 
 And she will become a gracious guest. 
 When shadows loom dark around the soul 
 Then her true worth will gently unfold. 
 
A REVERIE. 
 
 As from the darkening gloom a silver dove 
 
 Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light, 
 
 On pinions that naught move but pure delight. 
 
 — Keats. 
 
 Had I the swift wings of a dove, 
 
 I'd fly to some quiet bower, 
 In sweet communion there to spend 
 
 This peaceful twihght hour. 
 I'd breathe a prayer for those I 
 
 Love so far away from me : 
 Parted and scattered far and 
 
 Wide on Hfe's tempestuous sea. 
 
 Some have entered the battle of 
 
 Life, and some have entered rest; 
 Some are glad in the joy of youth. 
 
 And some with care are pressed. 
 Then I think of the quiet graves 
 
 'Neath the shade of the sentinel tree; 
 I think with tender love of all, 
 
 For none abide with me. 
 
 93 
 
94 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Then I think of these holy words, 
 
 They seem written to comfort me: 
 Many shall come from the east and west 
 
 And sit by the tranquil sea. 
 There's one in that throng with chestnut curls, 
 
 And another with sunny hair, 
 Their robes are white as new fallen 
 
 Snow, and both are young and fair. 
 
 There's another with soft brown eyes 
 
 And a voice so tender and sweet, 
 I shall know them all at sight and 
 
 Call them by name when we meet. 
 They will know me, though years have 
 wrought 
 
 Change, for strong and deep are love's ties — 
 They are waiting and calling for me, 
 
 From their blissful home in the skies. 
 
NOT LOST. 
 
 Perhaps the loving Master saw 
 
 The way was too rough for His feet; 
 
 He knew there were breakers ahead 
 Too dangerous for him to meet. 
 
 He took him home while his beautiful 
 
 Life was full of promise sweet. 
 
 95 
 
A SISTER OF MERCY. 
 
 The whiteness of His inocence 
 Over all her garments flowing. 
 
 Mrs. Browning. 
 
 A CRIMSON ray from the setting sun 
 Stole in through the half-closed window 
 And shone with a calm and gentle light, 
 As a perfume oft doth linger. 
 
 Here a sweet voice arose in accents clear — 
 We're weaving garments, we shall one day 
 
 wear; 
 The pattern we watch must come from above, 
 And be wrought in the shining threads of love. 
 If we wish our work to bear the test, 
 We must labor in faith and do our best. 
 If we wish our garments to shine as the sun, 
 When we stand in the presence of the Holy 
 
 One 
 We must watch the threads as we weave each 
 
 day, 
 This garment we weave will never decay. 
 
 96 
 
A Sister of Mercy. 97 
 
 We shall wear it through all the years to come, 
 We shall wear it in our eternal home. 
 I love to think of His mercy so free, 
 His mercy for you. His mercy for me. 
 And though we are weak and stumble and fall, 
 His love and His mercy are over all. 
 When you are sad and sorely distressed. 
 Then He is waiting to give you rest. 
 Though your garment is rent, watch the pat- 
 tern above. 
 And fly to His arms, thou poor weary dove. 
 Thus unto one whose young life was broken. 
 These merciful words of love were spoken. 
 Her talents rare were freely given 
 To those who were straying far from Heaven. 
 I know there are many in the unseen land 
 Waiting and watching to clasp her hand. 
 Always ready in the tenderest love. 
 As Christ to point poor sinning souls above. 
 Seeking to soothe, to help and to cheer 
 Hearts overburdened with sorrow and care. 
 When her garment is fashioned complete 
 Sweet rest is awaiting her tired feet. 
 The Saviour has promised toilers as she 
 A beautiful home by the crystal sea. 
 When hands are weary and soul oppressed', 
 7 
 
98 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 There just beyond is a glorious rest. 
 Far down the West at the set of hfe's sun 
 The Master will greet her : " Come home. 
 Well done." 
 
BEDFORD SPRINGS, VA. 
 
 I GREET again my native state, 
 I breathe its pure and healthful air; 
 I press once more its sacred soil 
 And view its landscapes fair. 
 This wonderful healing spring as 
 It flows from its rocky bed, 
 • Soothmg the woes of the weary 
 As the hungry oft are fed. 
 
 Oh, friends in the heated city! 
 
 Come to these quiet and peaceful shades; 
 
 Let the soft south wind fan thy cheek 
 
 As daylight calmly fades. 
 
 Then seek the path through the orchard, 
 
 And watch the glorious sun 
 Sinking in purple and crimson, 
 
 And shadows closing around. 
 
 A mist hangs over the mountain 
 
 And hides their outlines dim. 
 The blossoms of sunset wither 
 
 L.ci C. 
 
100 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 With the chant of the evening hymn. 
 Yon peaks rise silent and subHme, 
 Veiled ever in a mist of blue; 
 Filmy clouds are bending low 
 As violets in the dew. 
 
 Virginia, thy sunny slopes 
 Are dearer far to me 
 Than citron groves of fabled isles 
 Dotting the ^gean sea. 
 
THE BELL SIGNAL. 
 
 Of all the bells that peal out on the air, 
 
 The strangest music to me 
 Is a lone bell ringing in clarion 
 
 Notes, over the raging sea. 
 
 When the gallant ship makes over the bar 
 
 Call over the foaming deep, 
 The seamen brave are listening for thee, 
 
 Where the roaring billows leap. 
 
 Ring loud, ring clear, oh, thou sentinel bell! 
 
 Over the storm-tossed sea; 
 Ring loud, ring deep, o'er the whitening wave 
 
 Send thy message swift and free. 
 
 Ring on, ring on, thou pilot of the sea, 
 
 For the raging billows leap ; 
 Let ever thy cheering notes be heard where 
 
 The maddening waters sweep. 
 
 lOI 
 
MY FLOWERS. 
 
 My flowers are my constant friends 
 
 In fair and cloudy weather, 
 What cheerfulness their presence lends, 
 
 As our days glide on together. 
 
 General Lee, so grand and brave, 
 
 Like the Virginia hero ! 
 It buds and blooms though winds may rave 
 
 And mercury drop to zero. 
 
 One as white as the hawthorn tree, 
 
 Covered with snowy flowers. 
 Always a pleasure and pride to me, 
 
 In wintry and in summer hours. 
 
 " Victor Hugo " and '' Asa Gray," 
 
 " Dr. Livingstone " and " Happy Thought," 
 
 Growing lovelier every day, 
 
 Each with fragrance and beauty fraught. 
 
 Lemon, citron, apple and rose, 
 
 Their spicy robes they lightly trail, 
 
 102 
 
My Flowers. 103 
 
 Where heliotrope in purple glows. 
 
 And freecias white near primrose pale. 
 
 The orange blossoms for the bride 
 And breathes its perfume on the air. 
 
 Long tendrils of the smilax hide 
 And some entwine my rustic chair. 
 
 Viburnum there, with crotons bright, 
 
 MingHng with the oHve sweet. 
 The fuchsias bend their ruby light 
 
 Upon the fair, pale marguerite. 
 
 My orchids and callas grand, 
 
 Lifting their hearts in the glad sunshine; 
 Through winter days how bright they stand 
 
 'Mid white and pink maurandia vine. 
 
 Oxalis and begonias turn 
 
 Their crimson beauty to the sun. 
 
 Majestic palms droop o'er the fern, 
 And shadow, too, the veiled nun. 
 
 Crown of thorns, a strange, strange plant, 
 now 
 Listen, a legend holds, 'tis said. 
 The same that pressed our Saviour's brow, 
 . Till blood fell from His wounded head. 
 
104 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 I prize it well, this crown of thorn, 
 For it whispers softly unto me, 
 
 " I did the sacred brow adorn 
 
 The day He gave His life for thee.'* 
 
 So in this symbol I divine, 
 
 A glorious promise given. 
 As thorns did once His brow entwine, 
 
 A crown I'll wear at length in heaven. 
 
THE CLOSING YEAR. 
 
 How the soft sea-winds are gently sighing — 
 The days have fled, the old year is dying. 
 Let it slumber with its burden of tears ; 
 Look up and behold God's eternal years — 
 Calm, peaceful years. 
 
 What hath the past year brought my friend 
 
 they sigh. 
 As its changing seasons went sweeping by ? 
 Did it yield for thee a fruitage of tears, 
 To dim the luster of the coming years ? 
 
 The golden years ! 
 
 Did it rob thy home of a gift divine, 
 'Round which thy affections didst closely 
 
 twine ? 
 Hath a voice grown still thou lovest to hear ; 
 Dost thou miss at thy side a presence dear ? 
 Holy and dear ! 
 
 Or was it replete with glowing hours, 
 
 Rich and fragrant, as the breath of flowers? 
 
 105 
 
io6 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Tho' the year crowns one, it robs another, 
 Tho' it smites thy heart, 'twill bless thy 
 
 brother. 
 It brought unto me, in a strange, strange way, 
 How earth's beauty must wither and decay. 
 Then it unfolded a glory beyond. 
 Smiling forever as the years go on. 
 
 Fly swiftly on! 
 
 Sovereign light in beauty resplendent, 
 Casting its beams in glory transcendent, 
 Rendering life and love, oh, passing sweet! 
 With a radiant hope of joy complete. 
 Yea, thrice complete. 
 
 Let us bless our friends, and gently listen, 
 To soothe their sorrows, when tear-drops 
 
 glisten ; 
 Let us love and cheer them while yet we may, 
 Soon they may leave us alone on the way; 
 
 On life's rough way ! 
 
 If we live aright and live as we ought, 
 So the years will garner the harvest wrought ; 
 And crown us at length in immortal light — 
 Speed on, swift years, to eternity bright. 
 Hail, coming Light! 
 
THE GIFT OF SONG. 
 
 If thou canst sing let thy sweet voice arise 
 In songs, as holy incense to the skies ; 
 Then in thy sweetest strains sing for the old, 
 Let thy pure voice exultingly unfold 
 To them the glories of a better home 
 To which their feet are hastening, to roam 
 Oh, never more. Sing of the Saviour's love. 
 The lifelong friend who waits for them above. 
 
 Sing for the w^andering one of Heaven, 
 Of pitying grace and sins forgiven ; 
 Where angels are watching to see their feet 
 Turn unto the way of the mercy seat. 
 Then thou mayest rejoice even as they. 
 Seeing them walk in the righteous way. 
 'Tis a glorious gift that thou canst sing. 
 Uplifting poor souls on thy tuneful wing. 
 
 By the weary sufferer's couch, oh sing ! 
 
 Here let the harmonious music ring. 
 
 Soaring away to those habitations 
 
 107 
 
io8 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 So oft obtained thro' sad negations. 
 Weave in thy singing, pleading and prayer, 
 Till peace shall descend in radiance there. 
 Transmuting pain to a temple of love 
 'Neath the spreading wings of the Holy Dove. 
 
 Sing tenderly over the peaceful dead, 
 
 Till mourning ones no more their tears may 
 
 shed; 
 Bear them with thy calm voice to Paradise, 
 Till they above may lift adoring eyes, 
 And find the Comforter, who only knows 
 How bitter is the cup they drink of woes. 
 With thy soft voice, lead them to Him, to 
 
 Him— 
 Oh, add this star unto thy diadem! 
 
 Look up, the whitening fields await thee, 
 Go forth, and thou shalt transfigured be. 
 Use well thy gift, the days speed swiftly on ; 
 The weary ones, with hearts sad and forlorn, 
 Are all about thy way. God gave this gift. 
 A precious gift, to thee, that thou may est lift 
 Thy brother's load of care, and 'twill bless thee, 
 As bread upon the waters of the sea. 
 
A LIFE HISTORY. 
 
 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age 
 But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Who is more blest than a mother crowned 
 with love ? 
 Two little girls to be petted and caressed, 
 Then listen to voices like the coo of a dove 
 As she spreads her swift wings to fly to her 
 nest. 
 
 Linger, sweet years! 
 
 How the soft curls, as tendrils of love cling 
 
 to my 
 
 Finger as I brush the bright locks from each 
 
 fair face 
 
 They nestle and cling so close to my breast, 
 
 they vie 
 
 Each with the other to gain first the place. 
 
 Stay, oh bright years! 
 
 109 
 
no Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 It was stitch, stitch, and fashion a dainty white 
 dress, 
 Then embroider, faster grew the dehcate 
 lace 
 Each day under my fingers, while oft would 
 I press 
 A fond kiss on the lips of an upturned face. 
 Stay, oh sweet years! 
 
 It was a labor of love as the years flew on. 
 My life was complete and rich in pure joys, 
 till I 
 Suffered a loss for which nothing can atone. 
 Widowed bereft while my heart makes this 
 low cry — 
 
 Pass, oh sad years. 
 
 My girls they are children no longer, each a 
 bride. 
 And happy as brides should be, though I sit 
 alone, 
 And feel so strange at the change by my own 
 fireside. 
 The house is so still which once was gay, 
 how I mourn. 
 
 Bright years gone by! 
 
A Life History. iii 
 
 Change after change, my youngest a widow 
 
 with two 
 
 Little children, a girl and a boy, to protect. 
 
 My duty was clear to go and comfort and do 
 
 My best to cheer her poor heart and gently 
 
 direct 
 
 Through strange, sad years. 
 
 Peace smiled on me once more, I loved them so 
 Well, these little ones, for were they not 
 mine of mine? 
 In them I lived my own life over, I knew 
 Not the difference from my own. Love is 
 divine. 
 
 Linger, swxet years! 
 
 But the years swept on; our boy was a man, 
 to be 
 Leaned on and trusted; he was our joy and 
 pride 
 Through all the glad days, and heaven's bless- 
 ing to me 
 As, in God's sweet sunshine, I walked by his 
 side. 
 
 Stay, oh swift years! 
 
112 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Sickness smote him down, he suffered months 
 of pain; 
 I nursed him day and night, his mother 
 could not, 
 For tears and mighty love she could not con- 
 ceal vain. 
 Our efforts to save him, prayer availed not. 
 Pass, oh sad years ! 
 
 How we wrestled and struggled with sorrow, 
 God knows 
 'Twas hard to yield our loving boy, the 
 only son ! 
 We bore it, soothed by the radiance which 
 glows 
 From the pathway he trod, ere his journey 
 was done. 
 
 Speed on, swift years ! 
 
 A railway accident befell the son of my 
 
 Older daughter; he rallied at first, but I 
 Saw his doom was written, and did all I could 
 
 Ministrations tender to soothe his weary 
 sigh. 
 
 Fly on, sad years! 
 
A Life History. 113 
 
 Through the long watches of the night I was 
 with him. 
 He always rested better when I was near, 
 glad 
 To reach forth his poor wasted hand, in 
 shadow dim 
 And find me there, he said it made his heart 
 less sad. 
 
 Fly on, swift years! 
 
 Day and night I cheered and nursed him unto 
 The end. Stood with him in the hour su- 
 preme, nor left 
 Him till his young head drooped upon my 
 breast, knew 
 He w^as with Christ and I again sorely 
 bereft. 
 
 Speed on, sad years! 
 
 With the closing of this sweet patient life my 
 last 
 Work seemed ended. Six grandchildren 
 and three grown. 
 Married, settled in snug homes, where chil- 
 dren cast 
 8 
 
114 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Ever merriment around their happy hearth- 
 stone 
 
 As years fly on! 
 
 There seemed no room for me and all deemed 
 best 
 That I should go unto the "city home " and 
 live 
 My few remaining days. How the thorn 
 crown pressed — 
 Low at their feet I fell as one struck dead. 
 Forgive — 
 
 Speed on, strange years! 
 
 Forgive them, oh forgive, I cried, they know 
 not 
 What they do; Christ in His agony upon 
 the 
 Cross, looked down in love on her, nor then 
 forgot 
 " Behold thy mother ! " such mercy show to 
 me. 
 
 Fly, oh sad years. 
 
 I could not plead with my children, a mother a 
 Suppliant, oh, no! too deep, too deep the 
 pain. I 
 
A Life History. iig 
 
 Laid my sorrow at His feet in prayer each 
 day; 
 Spare, oh spare my heart this wound! was 
 my soul's deep cry. 
 Pass, oh sad years! 
 
 There is room for me in the many mansions 
 fair, 
 My journey is nearly complete, I almost 
 see 
 The gleam of light and the glory the angels 
 wear. 
 The burnished spires, the shores of the 
 jasper sea. 
 
 Come, oh bright years! 
 
 They brought me here to the " city home " — 
 'tis for life. 
 They brought me to my living grave. He 
 came unto 
 His own, but His own received Him not, the 
 strife 
 In human hearts goes on in Gentile as in 
 Jew. 
 
 Pass on, sad years! 
 
ii6 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 The servant is not above his master. He said, 
 ** The foxes have holes, the birds of the air 
 have nests, 
 But the Son of man hath not where to lay His 
 head. 
 I'll lay my hand in His nor shrink at strange 
 behests 
 
 Pass, oh swift years! 
 
 On distant shores my tired feet must soon find 
 rest. 
 Unfaltering faith in Christ shines over each 
 day. 
 My desolated way grows bright, within my 
 breast." 
 His peace abides and gloomy shadows flee 
 away. 
 
 Speed on, calm years! 
 
BEREFT. 
 
 '' Come, nurse, thy patient calleth thee." 
 She did not come. I sought her then 
 through hall 
 And ward and corridor, and still did call, 
 '' Come, nurse, thy patient now hath need of 
 thee." 
 
 From a vacant room near by I heard a moan. 
 It was the nurse I sought, the golden head 
 Was bowed low, '' It is the day," she said, 
 
 " The day he died, and left me thus alone." 
 
 I drew the weeping nurse unto my breast 
 And tried to soothe her grief ; so bereft. 
 Poor one, I thought, if I like she were left 
 
 How could I brave the storms of life's behests. 
 
 If my heart were left to weep its widowhood, 
 
 If the strong love on which I now may lean 
 
 Were called away, would I be calm then 
 
 To endure things hard to be understood? 
 
 117 
 
1^8 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Would I like this young nurse leave home and 
 friends 
 To watch above the sufferer's bed and 
 Cool the fevered brow with gentle hand, 
 
 Bearing my crucifixion till it rends? 
 
FRIEND. 
 
 A SACRED name, eternity alone 
 
 Can span its limitations, this gem most rare 
 
 Hath setting not of earth ; 'tis wealth if thou 
 
 Possess one friend true-hearted and sincere. 
 
 119 
 
IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 The dusty iniller sought to change his coat 
 
 Within the virgin's hozver, 
 But the ragged sailor said, I'll tell your 
 
 Sweetheart giUiflozver, 
 
 Job's tears fell thickly over Joseph's coat 
 
 Upon my lady's slipper. 
 Forget-me-not cut the cherry pie; the 
 
 Old maid said 'twas bitter. 
 
 Youth and old age smiled side by side, touched 
 
 By the evening glory. 
 An Indian shot at four o'clock, and 
 
 Spoiled their sweet love story. 
 
 The baby's breath came soft and low, as I 
 Marked the morn's new splendor; 
 
 Flora's paint brush quickly traced the 
 Glory o'er my window. 
 
 120 
 
In the Garden. 121 
 
 Sweet amethyst in happy way called 
 
 Out to passiflora, 
 A bachelor's buttons won my heart, he 
 
 Is a gallant lover. 
 
VICTORIA. 
 
 England,, bow thy head and weep, thy gra- 
 cious 
 
 Sovereign now doth sleep, 
 Guard thou her deep and dreamless slumber, 
 
 Proud nation, bow and weep. 
 
 Thy empress queen long years hath reigned 
 
 Upon thy royal throne ; 
 Her saintlike purity new grace hath lent 
 
 To thy illustrious crown. 
 
 No dark or dreadful deed hath stained 
 
 Thy scepter now laid down. 
 Her lofty soul so pure hath shone from 
 
 Thy imperial throne. 
 
 The royal purple but unveiled 
 
 A woman's loving heart. 
 England, mourn thy sovereign dead, 
 
 Enshrine her in thy heart. 
 
 122 
 
THE EDWARDS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 (Since the Norman Conquest.) 
 
 Edward the first on England's throne who 
 
 reigned 
 Comes of the Saxon Hne, at length regained. 
 Henry bid him come to claim a kingly crown, 
 Imperial honors, glory and renown. 
 This gallant soldier prince, with battle scars 
 Received on sacred soil in holy wars. 
 Four and thirty years in changing seasons 
 
 come 
 Ere this king yields the scepter to his son. 
 Then Edward the second, weak, hapless king. 
 Full nineteen years their bitter sorrows bring. 
 First Prince of Wales to bear that royal name ; 
 Born on their soil, Wales doth his kingship 
 
 claim. 
 No royal crown can heal the broken heart 
 Or check the source from whence the evils 
 
 start. 
 
 " With mine own tears I wash away my balm, 
 
 123 
 
124 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 With mine own hand I give away my crown." 
 Thus could he say as did another king 
 Whose mighty sorrows death and darkness 
 
 bring. 
 Despis'd, dethron'd, England, behold thy king 
 Crownless, in a prison's gloom suffering. 
 The crown is placed upon his son's fair brow — 
 Edward the third, a child king, reigneth now. 
 Fifty years he ruled his people well; 
 On his valiant deeds they fondly dwell. 
 Edward the fourth reigned two and twenty 
 
 years, 
 A reign marked by wars and England's tears. 
 Oh, unhappy England, thy fertile fields 
 Are mighty battle-ground for swords and 
 
 shields. 
 His son, Edward the fifth, lost his crown and 
 
 his life 
 At the hand of his uncle. On went the strife. 
 The war of the Roses swept to the end, 
 Till the red and the white their beauty blend. 
 Edward the sixth ascending the throne, 
 A mere child to bear the weight of a crown. 
 Six years the young monarch ruled and 
 
 reigned, 
 Then laid down his scepter pure and unstained. 
 
The Edwards of England. 125 
 
 Three hundred and forty-eight years roll on — 
 In the new light of the century's dawn 
 Edward the seventh, Victoria's son, 
 Reigns a king, gains a crown, in 1901. 
 
LENTEN BELLS. 
 
 To-day 
 I hear the lenten bells- 
 They seem to say, 
 Cast off thy sordid cares, kneel thou and pray. 
 
 They peal 
 So softly in their tone, 
 A joy doth steal 
 Into their ringing as we lowly kneel. 
 
 Anear, 
 Afar, sweet lenten bells. 
 Thy chimes are dear, 
 Calling unto thy children year by year. 
 
 Ringing 
 
 To the sad and weary, 
 
 Softly winging, 
 
 Floats the message which these bells are 
 
 bringing. 
 126 
 
Lenten Bells. 127 
 
 Oh hear, 
 They call to you, they call 
 To me so near. 
 Calm thy unresting heart, take joy for fear. 
 
 Sweet bells, 
 I love thy tender pleading. 
 O ! lenten bells, 
 Thy holy voice a wondrous story tells. 
 
 I heard 
 Them as a little child; 
 Then they stirred 
 My heart, as lucent air by song of bird. 
 
 And then, 
 As still I journeyed, 
 I heard again 
 Their call as the voice of a long-lost friend- 
 On, on, 
 I go, and still they ring. 
 And faith has borne 
 Its chalice to my lips the way along. 
 
 Ring on, 
 " Purge thou thy soul of sin 
 Till peace shall dawn," 
 And thy glad chimes ring in the Easter morn. 
 
ASH WEDNESDAY. 
 
 Holy days of penitence and prayer 
 
 Draw on apace. 
 Welcome calm ! days when I may draw so near 
 
 His tender grace. 
 
 I will arise, for Thou dost bid me come, 
 
 In accents sweet; 
 Although, my God, I know I am unfit 
 
 To kiss Thy feet. 
 
 The whiteness of Thy purity I plead 
 
 To stand for me. 
 'Tis through the Lamb, for sinners slain, I dare 
 
 To come to Thee! 
 
 No merit in myself I claim, for I 
 
 Am poor indeed; 
 In pain and penitence I come, a bruised 
 
 And broken reed. 
 
 Search Thou my secret thoughts, subdue my 
 
 will; 
 128 
 
Ash Wednesday. 129 
 
 Bid discords cease. 
 Let me triumphant soar to purer skies 
 On wings of peace. 
 
 Above the mists and shadows, as the wild 
 
 Dove in its flight, 
 Cleaving the distant blue onward ! upward ! 
 
 In boundless light. 
 
 In sweet communion now to draw apart 
 
 And walk with Thee. 
 Yes, Master, I will follow, even to 
 
 Gethsemane ! 
 
 Oh, to turn away from sinful self and 
 
 Torturing care, 
 In passion days to find beneath Thy wing 
 
 A refuge there! 
 9 
 
THE LAST SUPPER. 
 
 (Thursday night before Good Friday.) 
 
 This solemn night we to Thy temple come 
 
 To celebrate Thy eternal love. 
 Come to the blessed feast, come be our guest, 
 
 And spread Thy wings o'er us, O Holy 
 Dove ! 
 
 The Lenten days have passed and now the 
 Hallowed vigils of the cross we keep ; 
 
 A sad, sweet duty, born of love alone, 
 As o'er Thy broken body. Lord, we weep. 
 
 The Priest before the sacred altar stands — 
 The music peals forth soft and sweet and 
 low, 
 
 The pure white lilies shed their fragrance here, 
 Fit emblem of Thy spotless life below. 
 
 The snowy linen on Thy table spread, 
 
 The burning tapers cast their light around; 
 
 The solemn stillness of the sacred hour 
 
 Before the sacrifice, our souls bow down. 
 130 
 
The Last Supper. 131 
 
 Strip pride and envy from our hearts away, 
 Cast sin in every form from us to-night. 
 
 We want to be as pure and free from stain 
 As when before Thy face in Heaven's new 
 Hght ! 
 
 Oh, if w^e might, hke favored John, 
 Upon Thy loving, tender breast recHne. 
 
 Or, as in days of old, like Mary sit, 
 In holy rapture, at Thy feet divine. 
 
 This sacred feast, oh Saviour, fills our hearts, 
 With glory borne from Heaven above. 
 
 Exultantly our souls now rise to Thee! 
 In sweet and grand triumphant songs of 
 love. 
 
 We know Thy spirit now is brooding near. 
 Our souls adore Thy gracious presence, 
 Lord. 
 Such joy divine ! such peace ! such deep repose ! 
 In streams come now descending at Thy 
 word. 
 
 We fain would linger in Thy presence dear, 
 The music peals so soft and low and sweet. 
 
 We fain would linger at this hallowed feast 
 Oh rapture sweet to linger at our Master's 
 feet ! 
 
GOOD FRIDAY. 
 
 " They shall look on Him whom they pierced." 
 
 My Saviour, on this holy day, 
 
 My spirit turns to Thee. 
 I see Thee on Thy face in prayer! 
 
 1 see Thy agony! 
 
 Father, pass this cup from me! was 
 
 The cry of Mary's son — 
 If not — resigned, I'll drink it, 
 
 Thy will, not mine, be done. 
 
 Oh, awful scene upon the mount. 
 At lonely midnight's hour. 
 
 No pitying friend, a-near, to 
 Stay the evil power. 
 
 God Himself had turned away. 
 
 He could not look on sin, 
 
 'Though His pure and holy Son was 
 
 Bearing the sins of men. 
 132 
 
Good Friday. 133 
 
 How God loved His only son ! 
 
 Treading the wine press alone, 
 Behold a Father's bursting heart 
 
 As He turns from that moan. 
 
 My God, why hast Thou forsaken me ! 
 
 Left me alone to die, 
 No tender voice of God or friend, 
 
 Answered the dying cry. 
 
 Even Thy mother could not come nigh 
 
 To soothe the dying one 
 Or press a kiss on the brow of 
 
 Her well-beloved son. 
 
 'Tis finished now, He cried 
 
 Atonement is complete. 
 As the precious blood flows down from 
 
 His wounded hands and feet. 
 
 .Well might the veil be rent in twain, 
 
 Darkness cover the skies, 
 And the graves yield up their dead to 
 
 Witness the sacrifice. 
 
 My soul looks to the cross — there Thy 
 Suffering form I see. 
 
134 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 When Thou comest into Thy kingdom, 
 Saviour, remember me. 
 
 I look on Thee I have pierced, 
 And put to open shame, 
 
 Unworthy, gracious Lord, am I, 
 To breathe Thy holy name. 
 
 Repentant at Thy feet to-day — 
 My Saviour keep me there, 
 
 With a contrite heart and will in 
 Earnest, fervent prayer. 
 
HOURS OF THE CROSS. 
 
 12 to 3. 
 
 In deep humility, my soul, draw near 
 
 The cross. The Son of God is dyings now: 
 Thou canst not see His pallid cheek, for here 
 The awful gloom enfolds His thorn- 
 crowned brow. 
 And circles round His sacred form, slow wane 
 The hours that mark death's pain. 
 
 The little group who loved Him stand apart, 
 Nor dare they offer love's sweet incense pure. 
 
 The Roman spear guards well the sacred heart. 
 And eyes wherein no lovelight burns, endure 
 
 With scorn, the holy hours of the cross. My 
 Soul, thus did thy Saviour die. 
 
 He begged forgiveness then for sins and 
 
 Sinners vile, the hours of the cross record 
 This latest plea, that such as I might stand 
 
 In purity before His face. Dear Lord, 
 Let those gloom-environed hours cry to Thee, 
 Let them now plead for me. 
 
 ^35 
 
EASTER MORN. 
 
 Mary, why weepest thou beside the tomb? - 
 Why seek ye Him within its silent gloom? 
 
 Christ is not there. 
 Lift up your downcast eyes, your bowed head, 
 For He indeed hath risen as He said, 
 
 Divinely fair. 
 
 In the sepulcher sit forms immortal — 
 Angels bright, guarding the lowly portal. 
 
 He doth not sleep. 
 His sacrificial work at length is done. 
 Glorious immortality hath won. 
 
 How canst thou weep? 
 
 Behold Him 'neath the dewy olive bough, 
 
 Bright aureolas float around His brow, 
 
 He lives again. 
 
 The first pale light of dawn benignly shed, 
 
 Its amethystine glory on His head. 
 
 He comes to reign. 
 136 
 
Easter Morn. 137 
 
 Cast thou thy spices at His Hving feet, 
 And listen to the words His Hps repeat 
 
 Of Hfe and love. 
 Go breathe His message to each waiting heart, 
 In adoration unto them impart 
 
 Joy from above. 
 
 Each glorious Easter morn hath sealed 
 
 The pledge His resurrection power revealed. 
 
 His words sublime 
 Float down to us from that first Easter time, 
 And mingle with the joyful Easter chime, 
 
 Pure and divine. 
 
ASCENSION DAY. 
 
 This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into Heaven, 
 shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into 
 Heaven. Acts i. ii. 
 
 Oh, Saviour, crowned with glory now! 
 
 No more shall cruel thorns surround Thy 
 
 brow; 
 The Heavenly hosts now adore Thee, 
 And Seraphs cast their crowns before Thee. 
 
 The Holiest incense of the skies 
 
 Is offered to our sacrifice. 
 
 And the grandest note of Heaven's song 
 
 That ever floats from the countless throng 
 
 Is given to Him who once was slain, 
 But now in glory comes to reign. 
 His earthly life of trials ended, 
 Unto our father God ascended. 
 
 Equal with God and at His right hand 
 Ever will Christ our Saviour stand, 
 138 
 
Ascension Day. 139 
 
 For weak and faltering ones to plead, 
 For sinners like me to intercede. 
 
 Let Thy life, Thy love, touch every heart; 
 May we through Thee seek the better part; 
 May Thy bitter pains and cruel wounds 
 Purchase for us immortal crowns. 
 
 In Thy glorified body to-day 
 
 We see Thee received and borne away 
 
 In a cloud in triumph to God's right hand, 
 
 To Thy home and my home in a better land. 
 
 But Thou hast promised to come again 
 And receive Thy faithful children then, 
 " For the Lord Himself shall descend from 
 
 Heaven," 
 And to each shall a reward be given. 
 
 Whether we wake or whether we sleep, 
 Our Saviour will surely His promise keep, 
 And the tears shed in this present strife 
 We shall find jewels in the crown of life. 
 
WHITSUNDAY. 
 
 Descend, oh Holy Dove, to-day! 
 
 And spread thy wings about my way; 
 
 Let no rude passion stir my breast, 
 
 But sweetly in thy presence rest. 
 
 Upon the threshold of my heart 
 
 There gently poise and peace impart, 
 
 Whispering hope and love divine. 
 
 To cheer this fainting soul of mine. 
 
 I need the light thy spirit brings, 
 
 I need the healing of thy wings! 
 
 The sweet communion which I love 
 
 Bear softly to me from above. 
 
 Then meekly as a little child, 
 
 And in Thy sight as undefiled, 
 
 Calm and deep my joy shall be 
 
 As waters of a tranquil sea. 
 140 
 
CHRISTMAS. 
 
 The emulous clouds were bended low, 
 Circling the hills as mantles of snow. 
 
 Darkness and silence were resting- there. 
 The shadow^s of night deep and profound, 
 Casting its sable curtain around, 
 
 Hushing the world in its pain and care. 
 
 When, piercing the depths of gloom afar, 
 Flashed the light of a brilliant star. 
 
 Gilding mountains and valleys with light. 
 There in the Eastern sky 'twas burning! 
 The shepherds saw without discerning 
 
 The meaning of the wondrous sight. 
 
 Their hearts were filled with unknown dread, 
 
 Till the angel drew near and softly said : 
 
 '' Fear not, good tidings of joy I bring." 
 
 Then o'er Judea's plains were ringing 
 
 Heavenly songs the hosts were singing — 
 
 Glory to God, praise the new-born king. 
 
 141 
 
142 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Glad tidings blest, yea, the Christ was born 
 Unto this world that Christmas morn. 
 
 As a little child He came to earth. 
 Clothed as we, a God concealing, 
 Drawing so near. His love revealing; 
 
 Oh glad the day of the Saviour's birth! 
 
 He came to guide our feet in the way 
 Which shineth unto the perfect day — 
 
 Immaculate One, holy and good. 
 Leaving His home in yon bright Heaven. 
 To lead us there with sins forgiven. 
 
 Can ever such love be understood? 
 
 Hail the blest day, let His praise abound; 
 Roll over this earth a joyful sound. 
 
 For unto us a Saviour is born. 
 Oh, may His love in peace descending, 
 Softly as angels' songs are blending. 
 
 Abide with us this glorious morn. 
 
A PRAYER. 
 
 Father, Thou knowest my heart, 
 Thou hearest a suppliant's prayer. 
 
 Help me to choose the better part, 
 And cast on Thee my every care. 
 
 The sin that doth my soul assail. 
 And press me every day and hour. 
 
 Without Thy aid, Thy grace, I fail. 
 And fall 'neath the tempter's power. 
 
 A bruised and broken reed I come 
 And lay my sorrows at Thy feet. 
 
 My restless spirit seeks its home. 
 And finds in Thee a solace sweet. 
 
 Father, I scarcely dare to lift 
 My eyes unto Thy throne above. 
 
 My work undone, my sheaves adrift — 
 Yet all Thy attributes are love. 
 
 143 
 
144 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 The sordid thoughts that fill my breast, 
 Supplant them by Thy presence there; 
 
 iWhich gives such rapture, joy and rest, 
 And lead me in Thy pastures fair. 
 
BEREAVED. 
 
 I SOMETIMES sit and softly sing, 
 
 And watch the quiet skies, 
 And think of one I love so dear, 
 
 With soft and tender eyes. 
 
 If for one moment he might come 
 
 And reveal himself to me! 
 Just come to the edge of a silvery cloud, 
 
 For my longing eyes to see! 
 
 Immortal light of life doth shine. 
 
 Upon his face to-day — 
 Oh, one glimpse of that angel face 
 
 Would bear my soul away. 
 
 Away from sin and grief and care 
 
 To contemplate my rest, 
 And dream of glories yet to come, 
 
 When sorrows all are past! 
 lo 145 
 
146 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 But I know the Saviour hath said, 
 By faith and not by sight, 
 
 So I'll calmly trust in Him, till 
 I reach the land of light. 
 
PSALM XLII. 
 
 As pants the hart for water brooks, 
 So pants my soul for Thee; 
 
 The peace which holy David sought, 
 Oh, Christ, give me ! 
 
 My soul within me is cast down, 
 The waves and billows toss. 
 
 I leave the multitude afar 
 And seek Thy cross! 
 
 My soul disquieted and sad. 
 Goes mourning day and night. 
 
 Oh why should I thus cleave to dust — 
 Where is my light? 
 
 Look up, my soul ! Thy Saviour stands 
 
 To calm the troubled sea. 
 
 But place thy trembling hand in His, 
 
 He will lead thee. 
 
 U7 
 
INVOCATION. 
 
 " Inspirer and hearer of prayer," 
 
 Rang out from the white-robed choir; 
 A soft and heavenly strain, 
 Mingled with dew and fire! 
 
 (( 
 
 If Thou art my shield and my sun 
 One voice in sweet pleading arose, 
 Seeking the portals of heaven, 
 Breathing a calm repose. 
 
 f9 
 
 As fast as my minutes roll on 
 
 They bring me but nearer to Thee, 
 
 Swept on the melodious song. 
 Leaving its blessings on me. 
 
 His smiles and His comforts abound,- 
 
 His grace as the dew shall descend," 
 
 Angels are whispering softly. 
 
 Even so. Amen! Amen! 
 148 
 
WATCH AND PRAY. 
 
 Help me, sweet Saviour, to fulfil 
 This blest command each day; 
 
 Give me a contrite heart and will, 
 Thus let me watch and pray. 
 
 Thy grace I need, Thy grace I crave, 
 
 To wash my guilt away. 
 Thy healing power can only save, — 
 
 Oh, let me watch and pray! 
 
 In joyful hours or grief, my Lord, 
 
 Thy will make me obey. 
 For in Thy Holy Word I learn 
 
 That Thou didst watch and pray. 
 
 The wiles and snares that lure my feet 
 From wisdom's blessed way. 
 
 Are for my spirit right and meet, 
 To make me watch and pray. 
 
 The thorn first pressed Thy brow, what 
 
 Sufferings, who can say? 
 
 149 
 
i5o Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And am I better, Lord, than Thou, — 
 " I love thee, watch and pray." 
 
 Phick not the thorn, hft not the cross, 
 But send Thy quickening ray, 
 
 Refine the gold, remove the dross, 
 Thus let me watch and pray. 
 
GONE AWAY. 
 
 Called from us unto a higher life, 
 
 Free now and evermore from earthly strife, 
 
 Gone from earth-bound vision, 
 
 Crowned by an all-peerless love! 
 
 Her pure soul is safely landed, 
 
 At home, with Christ, above! 
 
 151 
 
SUFFICIENT. 
 
 My grace is sufficient for thee 
 
 In every sad, dark hour. 
 My strength is made perfect in weakness, 
 
 Rest thou in the might of my power. 
 
 Poor dove, thy restless strivings cease, 
 No balm or solace wilt thou find, 
 
 Earth offers thee no peaceful home. 
 Or comes thy broken heart to bind. 
 
 Why wilt thou beat thy weary wings 
 
 O'er barren wastes to widely roam? 
 
 I am thy only light and guide, 
 
 I am thy everlasting home. 
 152 
 
WHEN SHADOWS GATHER. 
 
 Sometimes my path winds through deep- 
 ening shade, 
 Sometimes no Hght strikes through the 
 
 shadows there. 
 I cannot hear the voice I long to hear, 
 Above the wave. '' 'Tis I, be not afraid." 
 
 Then swift and sure the Hght streams o'er my 
 way. 
 Deep and glorious peace uplifts my soul; 
 Blissful streams of love divine round me 
 roll, 
 xA.nd joy sings on to cheer the darkest day. 
 
 And so I think I sometimes careless grow. 
 And then my Saviour hides His face from 
 
 me, 
 To lift my soul above on pinions free, 
 
 Beyond subtle whisperings of the foe. 
 
 I know the Tender Shepherd loves His sheep, 
 His loving arm is round me all the day, 
 
 153 
 
i54 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 I know His mercies shine about my way — 
 Though storms may cast gathered shadows 
 deep. 
 
 Master, Thou knowest I strive to walk with 
 Thee, 
 Thou knowest the worldHng's hfe I try to 
 
 shun. 
 The tears I shed over duties left undone. 
 Though light or shade may be, stand Thou 
 near me. 
 
THE SOUL'S PLANE. 
 
 Up, up, my soul, unfold thy wings, 
 Thy golden wings of faith. 
 
 Let not the soil of earth's vile sin 
 Debase thy heavenly birth. 
 
 Shake off the dust that fain would cling, 
 And plume thy pinions bright; 
 
 Rise to thy plane and poise aloft, 
 O! soul, speed to thy Light. 
 
 Lift up thy heavy eyes and see 
 Amid God's vast expansions. 
 
 He hath prepared there for thee 
 A home of many mansions. 
 
 Too loud are earth's discordant sounds 
 To hear our angels singing; 
 
 But ever on those peaceful shores 
 Their joyous notes are ringing. 
 
 With such a hope, how can I halt, 
 Leaving my work undone? 
 
 155 
 
156 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Or stagger on the royal road 
 Pressed by God's Holy Son. 
 
 Soft as Heavenly dews descend, 
 Restore my spirit's calm ; 
 
 Strong in Thy love I lean upon 
 Thine everlasting arm. 
 
SUNSET. 
 
 The sun incarnadines the West, 
 
 As touched by fiery fingers. 
 The brilHant colors softly glow, 
 
 And on the hillside lingers. 
 Oh, think! there remaineth a rest 
 
 Reserved for the people of God. 
 And He who paints these scenes in the 
 
 Clouds hath spoken these holy words. 
 
 157 
 
AT CLOSE OF DAY. 
 
 When streams of light pour down the golden west. 
 
 — Keats. 
 
 The sun sinks low beyond the western hill, 
 The fragrance of the balmy summer air 
 Comes, wafted o'er the rolling landscape 
 fair; 
 
 The beauty of the scene my senses thrill. 
 
 In this peaceful hour at the close of day. 
 
 Heavenly thoughts within my bosom burn. 
 From worldly cares this hour my soul would 
 turn, 
 And humbly seek communion, Christ, with 
 Thee. 
 
 Has any soul been helped this day by me 
 To see the beauties of the King I claim ? 
 Have I, oh Christ! adored Thy holy name? 
 
 Though in Thy blessed Kingdom least I be. 
 
 Have I turned from sin for Thy dear sake? 
 Has my heart been lifted oft in prayer? 
 
 158 
 
At Close of Day. 159 
 
 Have I asked for strength my cross to bear, 
 Have I tried Thy will mine own to make? 
 
 Speak, gracious Saviour, for Thy servant 
 waits ; 
 
 Inspire my joyful heart with holy praise. 
 
 Fill thou the measure of my pilgrim days 
 Till I shall pass within the pearl-set gates. 
 
SUBMISSION. 
 
 When pain and anguish smite my heart, 
 When sufferings lay me low, 
 
 Though earthly comforts all depart, 
 'Tis for my good, I know. 
 
 I watch my loved ones fade and die, 
 
 My cherished hopes decay; 
 Yet from my chastened heart no cry — 
 
 Let no rebellious thought have way. 
 
 I know my Father rules my life; 
 
 My soul is in His care, 
 To cleanse and purify from strife. 
 
 For Heavenly mansions fair. 
 
 Let selfish aims and selfish plans 
 Fall in the dust and break; 
 
 I want to lift up holy hands 
 To Heaven, for Jesus' sake. 
 
 I want my life so full of zest; 
 
 So full of pure intent; 
 i6o 
 
Submission. i6i 
 
 I want to soothe some troubled breast, 
 With peace from Heaven sent. 
 
 I want my friends to love Thee, too — 
 
 My God to be their God. 
 I want my life both chaste and true, 
 
 According to Thy word. 
 
 The peace, the joy, the holy rest 
 
 That fills my soul to-night, 
 
 I claim it as a Heavenly guest, 
 
 And thank Thee for the Light. 
 II 
 
DUTY. 
 
 The paths of peace my feet should enter in, 
 
 Are ofttimes changed for those more dark 
 
 and drear; 
 
 The souls each day I ought to strive to win 
 
 Are left in sin, — and I kneel down for 
 
 prayer ? 
 
 Forsake, my soul, the rugged paths of sin; 
 
 No longer fold thy wings so swift and free, 
 
 But in the sunlight of His love go win 
 
 Thy crown of joy, it waiteth now for Thee. 
 162 
 
MY HOME. 
 
 " I go to prepare a place for you." 
 
 Oh, home so grand and glorious, 
 
 My spirit longs for thee; 
 Oh, home so fair and beauteous, 
 
 Over the sapphire sea! 
 
 Oh, beautiful fleecy clouds, you 
 
 Will soon be under my feet. 
 As I pass through your misty veil 
 
 On my journey strange and sweet. 
 
 Oh, beautiful crimson sunset! 
 
 Your splendor may mark my way. 
 As I pass through the valley of shadow 
 
 Veiling the perfect day. 
 
 Oh, seraphs, sing your sweetest songs, 
 
 As I sweep through gates of gold — 
 
 Welcome me, ye shining ones, when 
 
 I reach the upper fold! 
 
 163 
 
164 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Strike glad notes on your golden harps 
 As Heaven breaks on my eyes, 
 
 'Mid celestial glories, let 
 Me enter Paradise! 
 
 When I come to open vision, 
 
 Of Christ, my Saviour and King, 
 
 I shall fall at His feet in rapture. 
 As the sweet-voiced angels sing. 
 
 I shall find my long-lost darlings, 
 In their youth and beauty there! 
 
 Blighted in bud and flower here. 
 Blooming divinely there. 
 
 Oh, beautiful home in Heaven! 
 
 Oh, Saviour, who dwellest there! 
 Guide me and lead me day by day. 
 
 Till I Thy glory share. 
 
AS THOU DIDST TURN FROM 
 WONTED PATHS. 
 
 As Thou didst turn from wonted paths 
 In sohtude to fast and pray, 
 
 So would I turn to Thee alone 
 This Holy day. 
 
 As Thou didst walk upon the sands 
 
 By the calm Tiberian Sea : 
 So in Thy footsteps may I find 
 
 Sweet peace with Thee. 
 
 As Thou didst foil the tempter's power, 
 So in Thy strength may I be strong 
 
 To triumph o'er the evil one 
 As I go on. 
 
 As Thou didst lead a perfect life, 
 To guide poor mortals o'er the way : 
 
 So ever looking unto Thee 
 I may not stray. 
 
TIRED. 
 
 Saviour, my Saviour, draw near unto me, 
 
 Unworthy am I to look unto Thee. 
 
 I am so tired, I want only rest : 
 
 I seek repose on Thy sheltering breast. 
 
 The way is so rough to my bruised feet, 
 
 I stumble, and fall, in the noise and heat. 
 
 Shine Thou in transcendent light o'er my way ! 
 
 Changing the shadows into calm, sweet day. 
 
 Then back to my work and my cross I come. 
 
 Illumined! uplifted! by a glimpse of home. 
 
 Counting it a joy to work and to wait, 
 
 For just beyond lies the beautiful gate! 
 
 And I may enter and dwell therein 
 
 If my garments are white and free from sin. 
 i66 
 
UNREST. 
 
 My Father, why is it I often stand, 
 
 As a poor alien in a distant land? 
 
 Shadows gather and overcast my sky — 
 
 Doth Heaven now attend my feeble cry? 
 
 Hush these vain questionings, oh, my soul ! 
 
 And upward glance, where thou canst there 
 
 behold, 
 
 The calm, pure glory of the starry world. 
 
 Could human hands such majesty unfurl? 
 
 Dwell on the mercies of thy risen Lord. 
 
 Rest on the promise of His holy word! 
 
 Then as the waves of the refluent sea 
 
 His peace will dawn, and softly shine for thee. 
 
 For even with life's last outgoing tide, 
 
 He then hath said, thou shalt be satisfied! 
 
 167 
 
SABBATH BELLS. 
 
 Oh, Sabbath bells! how sweet thy tones are 
 pealing 
 Upon the stillness of the morning air, 
 And weary ones may leave their worldly care 
 
 The sacred aisle to press devoutly kneeling. 
 
 The pastor's voice in low and tender pleading ; 
 
 The dim old church of sweetest memory; 
 
 And holy voices lifted, Christ, to Thee! 
 For sanctifying grace we all are needing. 
 
 It is not mine to join the goodly number 
 Or swell the chorus of the joyful song; 
 Yet wings of peace uplift and bear me on, 
 
 As on its mother's breast a child doth slumber. 
 
 It is not mine to humbly kneel, confessing, 
 
 Within the sanctuary of our God, 
 
 Or hear the reading of His holy word ; 
 
 But even here I taste the cup of blessing. 
 i68 
 
Sabbath Bells. 169 
 
 And o'er my couch of pain a light is streaming, 
 And ever on my disciplined heart 
 Falls balm and healing for its deepest smart, 
 
 Tis love divine, upon my pathway beaming ! 
 
AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER? 
 
 When Christ our Master lived on earth, 
 
 He sought to soothe each day another's pain ! 
 
 The humblest sinner, in His sight, was worth 
 
 His tenderest care, and words of love fain 
 
 Fell on burdened ones whose hearts were 
 
 sore — 
 On them! on them! He sought the balm to 
 pour. 
 
 Within the house of sorrow He was found; 
 Beside the tomb, He wept with those who 
 wept ; 
 Mingled His sacred tears with those around; 
 Spoke words of heavenly comfort, nor kept 
 Alone sweet blessings hidden in His breast. 
 On stricken ones He sought to shed calm 
 rest. 
 
 He is our pattern and our guide, but do 
 
 We walk the way He pointed out for us ? 
 
 While time its circling courses sweep, the true, 
 
 The only path, lies round our way, and thus 
 170 
 
Am I My Brother's Keeper. 171 
 
 Our selfish hearts too oft lead us astray — 
 From sorrow's call we turn our face away. 
 
 Withhold the words of cheer we oft should 
 speak ; 
 Draw meekly near unto the feast of love. 
 Then walk our way alone, tho' hearts may 
 break ! 
 Stretch not a hand to lift poor souls above 
 The clasp of sin, or the tempter's power — 
 Perchance we might save one in such an hour. 
 
 And can we stand before our Father, bare 
 Our souls unto His all-searching eye, feel 
 
 The trust He hath given unto our care 
 We keep as Christ would have us do, we deal 
 
 And render unto all as He ? Then blest 
 
 Are we, and in His kingdom we shall rest. 
 
THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 
 
 Psalm 23. 
 
 The Lord is my Shepherd. The Shepherd 
 
 Loves his sheep, 
 And ever round about their paths a 
 
 Watch doth keep. 
 
 And oh, my soul! He leadeth thee in 
 
 Pastures green; 
 Where fountains flow, and waters He calm 
 
 And serene! 
 
 When shadows fall. He gives to me a 
 
 Staff and rod; 
 That I may know I lean upon the 
 
 Living God! 
 
 Oh, my heart, to rest! and know that thou 
 
 Mayest rest 
 
 In peace and sweet repose upon thy 
 
 Saviour's breast. 
 172 
 
The Good Shepherd. 173 
 
 No evil shall my steps attend, but 
 
 Mercy sweet 
 Shall shine, till I may lay my crown low 
 
 At His feet! 
 
MARGARET J. PRESTON. 
 
 She hath passed to the " thitherward shore," 
 On earth she will sing her sweet songs no 
 
 more ; 
 Heaven claimed its own, she soar'd awa}^: 
 Yet her songs float back through the gates of 
 
 day. 
 
 The measure of her days, complete at last, 
 Care and sorrow now are all overpast. 
 What scenes of glory doth she now behold? 
 How sweet her rest within that blessed fold. 
 
 May her mantle fall with its gifts and power, 
 On one who may feel it a heavenly dower; 
 Then go forth as she to comfort and bless. 
 The heart of the weary, the world's distress! 
 174 
 
I SHALL RISE AGAIN. 
 
 May Easter joy abound, the joy no man can 
 
 take; 
 The glorious hope that we too one day shall 
 
 wake. 
 Clothed in immortal life! Christ willed it so. 
 And said, " That where I am there shall ye 
 
 also go." 
 Through sad and holy hours we reach this 
 
 gladsome day, 
 And turn our thankful hearts to distant lands 
 
 away ; 
 Made dear to us because His feet its ways 
 
 have trod; 
 We seek to find the footprints of a tender God. 
 And then like some calm sea, the noisy tempest 
 
 still. 
 His peace descends; we are content to wait 
 
 His will. 
 Seest thou not the trees so lately brown and 
 
 bare 
 
 175 
 
176 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Now clothed in green and stirred by balmy air ? 
 
 The gloomy fields o'erswept by sharp and 
 wintry gales, 
 
 In emerald glory now sweet perfume exhales, 
 
 And dotting here and there we see in Spring- 
 time dressed, 
 
 The flowers, reflecting '* Heaven's colors on 
 their breast." 
 
 And so the sweetest message Easter brings to 
 me 
 
 Is life for those I love, yes, life eternally. 
 
EVERY MAN WENT UNTO HIS OWN 
 HOUSE; JESUS WENT UNTO THE 
 MOUNT OF OLIVES. 
 
 The evening shadows lengthened, 
 And the glorious western sun 
 
 Was bathing the hills in crimson, 
 As the twilight crept gently on. 
 
 Jesus came forth from the Temple, 
 Where He had spoken holy things, 
 
 But not a friend drew near to Him, 
 Not one a word of welcome brings. 
 
 And every man went to his house, 
 From the presence of Him divine; 
 
 Nor seemed to see the halo 
 
 Bright 'round His brow in beauty shine ! 
 
 Light had died on the hilltops. 
 And Jesus was standing alone. 
 
 So He sought the Mount of Olives, 
 With perhaps a pillow of stone. 
 
 12 177 
 
178 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 None to claim the heavenly guest, 
 ^ None in the land of Galilee 
 To humbly come and beg of Him, 
 
 "Master, wilt Thou abide with me?" 
 
 When I dwell on this sad picture, 
 The hot tears spring to my eyes. 
 
 And in my breast tumultuous thoughts 
 As storm-tossed billows rise! 
 
 Be still, my heart, Christ is not here, 
 But His vicegerent in His stead — 
 
 The Holy Ghost sent down from Heaven 
 To dwell with us as Jesus did. 
 
 Is my house swept and garnished 
 To receive the Holy Guest? 
 
 Is my heart a living temple 
 For God's messenger so blest? 
 
 Ah no ! The sordid things of earth 
 Surcharge my heart with petty sin; 
 
 And should the Holy Dove draw near, 
 I fear He would not enter in. 
 
EASTER THOUGHTS. 
 
 Come, let us see the place where the Lord lay. 
 For He hath risen this glorious day. 
 Go tell thy brethren, come to Galilee, 
 That there also they shall look upon me. 
 
 All hail ! I greet you again, be not afraid ; 
 I promised my beloved to rise from the dead. 
 All power in earth to me is given, 
 Power that springs from the throne in Heaven. 
 
 Whatsoever I command you to do, 
 Lo, I am with you to carry you through. 
 Thus sayeth our Saviour on this glad day, 
 The angels hath rolled the stone away. 
 
 Behold the scars on my hand and my side. 
 It is I, your Master, who was crucified; 
 Ye doubt, " Reach hither thy finger " and see. 
 These wounds I received on Calvary. 
 
 God pity souls who to-day sit unmoved. 
 
 By scenes of Thy passion, Thy death. Thy 
 
 love; 
 
 179 
 
i8o Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Bring them to the foot of the cross in prayer 
 And show them Thy love and forgiveness 
 there. 
 
 This day when joy should reign in the heart, 
 
 A shadow falls and the tears will start. 
 
 I yearn for my loved ones who know not 
 
 Thee — 
 Oh, touch them and heal them as Thou didst 
 
 me. 
 
 Saviour, I bear them to Thee on my heart ! 
 And I pray they may see Thee as Thou art. 
 Oh, give them to me in that glory land! 
 Let them with me in Thy presence stand. 
 
 As of old let them come to blue Galilee, 
 And open their eyes that they too may see. 
 Let them not be afraid, but seek Thy rest. 
 And tenderly draw them unto Thy breast. 
 
 I thank Thee and bless Thee, oh Christ divine ! 
 For drawing my soul so close unto Thine; 
 On earth, in Heaven I'll ever praise Thee 
 For dying to save a sinner like me. 
 
MINE EYES SHALL BEHOLD, AND 
 NOT ANOTHER. 
 
 Oh, Christ, can it be 
 That I shall one day sit with Thee? 
 Look in Thy face, hold Thy hand, 
 And gaze upon the beauties of the heavenly 
 land? 
 
 Oh, Christ, can it be ! 
 That I shall one day walk with Thee 
 Side by side, on golden sands. 
 And cease to yearn for home and friends in 
 other lands? 
 
 Oh, Christ, can it be 
 That I shall one day cross the sea, 
 And gain that heavenly land. 
 Where all Thy dispensations I shall under- 
 stand ? 
 
 Oh, Christ, can it be 
 
 That pain shall one day pass from me — 
 
 i8i 
 
i82 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 That all sorrow and unrest 
 Shall cease at last to stir my storm-tossed 
 breast ? 
 
 Oh, Christ, it will be! 
 These eyes of mine will one day see 
 Dawn of an eternal day, 
 
 Where pain, death and woe shall all have 
 passed away. 
 
 Oh, Christ, the day draws near! 
 The shadows flee, I have no fear; 
 I shall live in peace with Thee! 
 In that blest home, Thou hast long prepared 
 for me. 
 
DR. BARTEN. 
 
 Rector Christ's Church, Norfolk, Va. 
 
 Yes, I will weep, but not that thou art come 
 To the . . . Sabbath of the silent tomb. 
 
 — SOUTHEY. 
 
 Far from thy fatherland to die, 
 
 On strangers' soil to fall asleep. 
 Yet loyal hearts and loving friends 
 
 For thee their tears of sorrow weep. 
 Long and faithfully the flock 
 
 Entrusted to thy watchful care, 
 Thou hast ministered unto, 
 
 Their joys and griefs alike to share. 
 Rest, oh, thou soldier of the cross, 
 
 Thy years of faith exchange for sight; 
 Behold thy Saviour face to face. 
 
 Revealed in heaven's new light. 
 God's everlasting love and peace 
 
 Crown every coming year for thee. 
 For thou hast found the soul's blest home 
 
 Beyond the blue, beyond the sea. 
 
THIS DO IN REMEMBRANCE OF ME. 
 
 Our Saviour knew the agony to be, 
 Oh, then in grief His human heart, as we. 
 Feared the suffering, the hour supreme, 
 When not a ray of hght should round Him 
 
 beam. 
 His passion, the coming gloom, this He knew. 
 Then He called the twelve unto Him, drew 
 His beloved together unto the 
 Upper chamber, He sought alone to be 
 With them in that hour, and He took the 
 
 bread 
 And brake it, nor turned His sacred head. 
 But gave thanks, tho' the shadows looming 
 
 up 
 
 As stormy seas roll high. He took the cup, 
 
 And beholding, blessed His symbols true, 
 
 The new testament of His blood. He knew 
 
 His disciples soon should scattered be — 
 
 For Him awaited dark Gethsemane. 
 
 The shepherd smitten, the sheep cast abroad, 
 184 
 
This do in Remembrance of Me. 185 
 
 Afraid to own or claim Him as their Lord ! 
 These His beloved, ready now to flee, 
 Yet " This do in remembrance of Me," — 
 Were the words He gently said. We to-day 
 Unto this feast draw near, and humbly pray 
 That Thou wilt bless again this bread and 
 
 wine, 
 And from that far-off shore let softly shine 
 Thy love divine. We lift adoring eyes, 
 And bless Thee, our eternal sacrifice! 
 
WHY COMEST THOU NOT? 
 
 Why comest thou not, my beloved, to me? 
 Why dost thou Hnger, when my heart dings to 
 
 thee? 
 Let me hear thy voice in its silvery tone, 
 For thou hast power to soothe the soul's deep 
 
 moan. 
 Thy gentle hand and thy womanly art 
 Can calm the pain of the anguished heart. 
 The way has grown smoother to my tired feet. 
 And life and love have grown, oh, passing 
 
 sweet ! 
 Gethsemane tasted — no loved one near 
 To shed on me one agonized tear. 
 But transcendent light from the cross shone 
 
 there. 
 
 And the way grew bright and my path was 
 
 clear. 
 i86 
 
ALONE. 
 
 Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain 
 For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 Oh, friend, if thou shouldst pass my door, 
 And see the badge of mourning there, 
 
 What tender thoughts would fill thy heart. 
 For one unburdened now by care. 
 
 How quick thy feet wouldst enter in, 
 
 And thou wouldst soothe my children then. 
 
 And for this desolated home 
 
 Thy tears of pity fall. Oh friend ! 
 
 How easy then to speak thy love, 
 
 Of virtues never known before; 
 How quick my praises then to speak, 
 
 When I shall heed thy voice no more. 
 
 Oh, save the mother's waning strength ! 
 
 For those she strives to point to Heaven; 
 
 A word of love may ofttimes smoothe 
 
 The path of pain from morn to even. 
 
 187 
 
i88 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Wait not with thy Balm of Gilead 
 Till '' I and my sorrows are dust," 
 
 But come to-day with thy quiet voice 
 And whisper words of hope and trust. 
 
 Keep not thy words of hope and cheer 
 Till aching hearts grow calm and still. 
 
 But seek to soothe the burdened one 
 If thou wouldst do thy Master's will. 
 
 Hearest thou not the Saviour say — 
 Exceeding sorrow in His tone — 
 
 " Couldst thou not watch one hour with Me ? " 
 But He wept and prayed alone. 
 
 And so I walk a royal road. — 
 
 My Master walked it long before; 
 
 Each fear I know, each pang I feel. 
 Hath swept His soul in anguish o'er. 
 
 In realms of God's untroubled air 
 There my heart doth oft ascend. 
 
 How sweet, how deep will be my rest, 
 When holy pleasures never end. 
 
 Then look upon my quiet face, 
 
 My folded hands, my tranquil breast, 
 
Alone. 189 
 
 And fall upon thy knees in prayer, 
 
 That I have found God's blissful rest. 
 
 Despoil thy gardens not for me; 
 
 Wreathe not my brow with immortelles, 
 But from some friendly field a-near 
 
 Bring sweet myrtle and asphodels. 
 
 When Christ hath set His seal of peace 
 Upon this weary heart and brain, 
 
 His angels then will sing to me, 
 In Heaven's celestial strain. 
 
 No more for me the woes of earth. 
 
 But Heaven's delightful clime, 
 Where I shall see Him as He is, 
 
 And all my joys shall be divine. 
 
i897. 
 
 COMPLETE. 
 
 To be in Him complete ! 
 
 Oh Heavenly consolation. 
 That we shall one day meet 
 
 Such glorious approbation, 
 
 190 
 
WHAT IS THY CROSS? 
 
 What is thy cross ? Is it to lose thy child — 
 Thy well-beloved child, whose love was 
 strong 
 For thee to lean upon? Reconciled 
 
 Canst thou not be? Art thou still borne 
 along 
 Unable yet to calm thy heart's wild grief? 
 Findest thou no relief? 
 
 What is thy cross? Is it to stand apart, 
 Misunderstood, thy inner life unknown; 
 
 The high and holy thoughts within thy heart 
 Unheeded by those about thee? Alone 
 
 Art thou. Barest thou not to break the seal 
 
 Which will thy gift reveal? 
 
 What is thy cross? Is it to leave thy home 
 
 And kindred dear, and dwell in far-off lands, 
 
 Where thou dost ever miss their love? They 
 
 come 
 
 191 
 
192 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Not now, in evening hours with tender 
 hands, 
 To lay their benedictions on thy brow, 
 And gently bless thee now. 
 
 Is it thy cross to sit with folded hands, 
 
 Thy feet grown tired in the world's great 
 strife, 
 Watching each day the slowly ebbing sands 
 Of time measure to thee thy weary life? 
 Take heart, oh friend; there's sunlight on the 
 
 sea! 
 It shineth now for thee! 
 
 Whatever thy cross may be, oh friend! God 
 Gave this cross to thee, clasp it to thy 
 breast, 
 
 Go thy way, kneel to the chastening rod, 
 And He will give to thee a tranquil rest. 
 
 Dark seas He turns to amethystine bright — 
 
 So will thy cross grow light. 
 
HUNGRY. 
 
 On the street she begged from door to door, 
 
 In wan attenuation : 
 Humbly seeking from a pitying one, 
 
 For some alleviation. 
 
 I too am hungry, oh thou weary one! 
 
 I plead for living bread. 
 Not from each door, but, oh, in some dim 
 room 
 
 I lift my hands and bow my head. 
 
 Not for things that perish with the using. 
 
 My fervent prayers ascend ; 
 But for His righteousness I sue. His grace 
 
 To strengthen and defend. 
 
 I fear the things which seek to soil my soul 
 And drag her wings in the dust; 
 
 I smite my breast as he who stood afar; 
 Seeking one whom sinners trust. 
 13 193 
 
GOD'S GIFT. 
 
 The shades of night had gathered 
 
 Over the hills of Palestine, 
 When lo! the gloom was broken, 
 
 And a brilliant star was seen. 
 
 Was it a shining meteor, 
 
 That burned in the eastern sky, 
 
 And caused the watching shepherds 
 To gaze with eager eye? 
 
 Ah, no, 'twas a Heavenly sign, 
 
 To point where the young child lay. 
 The light of the world had dawned, 
 
 On that first Christmas day. 
 
 Oh, sweet young babe in Mary's arms! 
 
 With joy we celebrate Thy birth, 
 And look with glad and anxious hearts 
 
 For Thy return to earth. 
 
 " Peace on earth, good will to men," 
 
 We gladly sing again to-day, 
 194 
 
God's Gift. 195 
 
 As the angels sang long ago, 
 When Christ in the manger lay. 
 
 Let pure and holy joy abound, 
 And ever gracious deeds be done 
 
 God's gift to us is Eternal Life! 
 Through Jesus Christ His son. 
 
" IN THEE DO I PUT MY TRUST." 
 
 If I may but touch the hem of 
 His garment I will be healed. 
 
 If believing I draw near Him, 
 My pardon at once is sealed. 
 
 Though my sins may be as scarlet, 
 Many as the sands by the sea, 
 
 Whiter than snow He can make them. 
 And cast them away from me. 
 
 Of sinners, Lord, I am chief, and 
 Have wandered away from Thee. 
 
 But strengthen my faith as I go. 
 And unfold Thy mercy to me. 
 
 Increase my trust, increase my hope, 
 As I near the limitless sea; 
 
 Then onward and upward I go, 
 Oh, Christ, trusting alone in Thee, 
 
 *Tis sweet to feel Thy loving arm 
 
 Upholding my faltering feet; 
 196 
 
In Thee do I Put My Trust. 197 
 
 'Tis sweet to feel Thy presence, Lord, 
 When I come to the mercy seat. 
 
 Live in me and with me, O Christ, 
 Till I find my home in the skies. 
 
 Prepare my soul for eternal 
 Life with Thee in sweet Paradise. 
 
TWO BOYS. 
 
 Fair dawned the morning, and the early sun 
 . Poured on the latticed cot a cheerful gleam ; 
 And up the travelers rose, and on their way 
 Hastened, their dangerous way, through fertile tracts 
 Laid waste by war. 
 
 — SOUTHEY. 
 
 IBright shone the morning snn that summer 
 day. 
 And in the maple trees the song of birds 
 So sweet, but said to me, they are away. 
 
 And my poor heart, too full, too full for 
 words. 
 Knew they were gone, two boys in Southern 
 gray, 
 Though still the echo of their steps I heard. 
 
 Then the days and weeks seemed years to me. 
 
 With nothing to do but to hope and wait, 
 And think of the time I should surely see 
 
 Both my boys coming through the wicket 
 
 gate— 
 198 
 
Two Boys. 199 
 
 I there to meet them, 'neath the myrtle tree. 
 Should they come at morn, or eventide late. 
 
 Then came the news, '' In prison." Oh, my 
 child ! 
 So tenderly nurtured upon my breast, 
 He languishing there! the thought makes me 
 wild ! 
 No loved one near to share his distress, 
 While L his mother, must be reconciled, 
 Unable to minister or to press 
 
 His' dear head gently to my aching heart! 
 Then how swiftly swept the news, " He is 
 gone." 
 In despair I said, '' Oh, keep us apart 
 
 No longer, but let his poor body come 
 And rest with my children, 'twill heal the 
 smart 
 In a way, tho' dead. Oh, bring my child 
 home ! " 
 
 My prayer was not granted, and I do 
 
 Not know the place where they laid him. 
 I call 
 
 With outstretched arms and hourly sue, 
 Oh, bring back my boy to me ! Then I fall 
 
200 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 On my face in prayer. Love profound and 
 true 
 Lies untouched, tho' death falls as a pall. 
 
 One came back to be loved and caressed, 
 Then to die on my breast. It soothed me 
 
 To nurse him, and 'twas sweet to be pressed 
 To the heart of one boy, tho' ag"ony 
 
 To know how short the time must be at best! 
 To my anguished heart no news brought he 
 
 Of his brother ; we know not where his bright 
 Head rests, or who composed his slumber. 
 
 But we know this, for him shines Heaven's 
 light. 
 I watched my child and stood in wonder 
 
 If Christ would heal and give him in my sight 
 Restored to me. Oh, could I number 
 
 But one child to bless my life might not the 
 Breath of pines and his native Southern 
 air, 
 Blown fresh from the breast of the salt blue 
 sea, 
 And a mother's agonized prayer 
 Save him ? But his sweet eyes turned on me. 
 His hand in mine — I think angels may wear 
 
Two Boys. 201 
 
 Above the rapturous look on his face — 
 
 A Heavenly smile, '' My mother! " he said 
 (I watched the light fade of his boyish 
 grace) ; 
 Mother is near, but I spoke to my dead! 
 Childless ! alone am I ! what can replace 
 My two sons ? Dead ! dead ! rings on in 
 my head. 
 
REST. 
 
 And this is rest. 
 
 To lean on His breast, 
 
 After a day by pain oppressed, 
 
 So sweet to rest on my Master's breast. 
 
 In this hour calm, 
 
 No fear to alarm; 
 
 The struggle is past. Only deep rest 
 
 And joy serene on my Saviour's breast. 
 
 Night has come on, 
 
 But new light of morn 
 
 From silver seas sheds over my soul 
 
 A tranquil peace as His hand I hold 
 
 In loving embrace. 
 
 Beholding His face, 
 
 Beaming with love so tender and mild, 
 
 As in mercy He looks on His child. 
 
Rest. 203 
 
 When death draws near, 
 
 Thus, Saviour, appear; 
 
 On my closing eyes let sweet scene rise 
 
 Of my home, in Thy bright Paradise. 
 
WILL SHE REMEMBER ME? 
 
 A gallant officer of the Confederate Army, on the last night 
 of his last visit home, seemed painfully affected at leaving his 
 young wife and two little girls. He w^alked the floor with the 
 older one in his arms, and repeated in anguish of spirit, " Will 
 she remember me ? Oh, will she remember me ? " He w^as 
 killed three days before Lee's surrender, taken home to his 
 family, and buried in Oakdale Cemetery, in his native city, 
 Wilmington, N. C. 
 
 The soldier walked with restless 
 
 Step, pressing his child to his breast; 
 
 Ah, who may know his strange sad thoughts 
 Of sorrow and distress? 
 
 " I could go to the front," he said, 
 " Strong to face whatever may be, 
 
 If I only knew in after years, 
 She would remember me ! " 
 
 She nestled in his loving arms, 
 
 Smiling in childish mirth and glee — 
 
 The soldier murmured yet again, 
 " Will she remember me ? " 
 
 204 
 
Will she Remember me ? 205 
 
 Three days before the peerless Lee 
 Yielded his sword and bade farewell 
 
 To the cause dear to Southern hearts, 
 The noble soldier fell! 
 
 The widow's woe, the orphan's cry. 
 
 Resounded through our fair Southland; 
 
 The flower of our country fell, 
 Slain by a brother's hand ! 
 
 Though many a year has passed. 
 
 Upon the soldier's grave we see 
 Fresh flowers entwine the laurel wreath — 
 
 She does remember thee! 
 
 Sleep thou 'neath Oakdale's peaceful shade. 
 
 Calm as the breast of the sea, 
 In Southern hearts and Southern homes 
 
 We do remember thee. 
 
SOLDIERS OF THE GRAY. 
 
 Reunion. 
 
 From the hills to shores of the sea, 
 
 From many distant homes away, 
 With slow and silent step they come. 
 
 The soldiers of the Gray. 
 The hope and joy of buoyant youth 
 
 Have sure and swiftly fled away; 
 But they are noble heroes still, — 
 
 The soldiers of the Gray. 
 
 They come to talk of years long gone. 
 When duty called them to obey; 
 
 How sad and sweet these memories 
 To soldiers of the Gray. 
 
 Could traitors e'er have fought so long. 
 With forces few and thin as they? 
 
 Ah, no, they felt their cause was right, — 
 
 The soldiers of the Gray. 
 206 
 
Soldiers of the Gray. 207 
 
 Washington was a rebel, too! 
 
 (If these were rebels then, I say) 
 As much as any one of them, — 
 
 The soldiers of the Gray. 
 Show me a grander, nobler man, 
 
 Whose fame doth brighter grow and stay, 
 Than Lee, who deemed it right to lead 
 
 The soldiers of the Gray. 
 
 No costly tomb is reared for them, 
 
 With valiant deeds in long array; 
 But jasmine flowers and laurel wreaths 
 
 For soldiers of the Gray. 
 Where'er I see the simple stone 
 
 Marked with the letters " C. S. A.," 
 I pray his soul hath found God's peace — 
 
 This soldier of the Gray. 
 
 Magnolias, breathe your sweet perfume. 
 
 And gently cast your shade each day 
 O'er fallen braves, who calmly sleep — 
 
 Our soldiers of the Gray. 
 God knows best, and He rules us all, 
 
 And there never shall dawn the day 
 When Southern hearts will cease to love 
 
 Her soldiers of the Gray. 
 
A SOLDIER'S BRIDE. 
 
 The hickory logs are burning 
 
 And fitful shadows cast. 
 While I alone sit dreaming 
 
 Of my vanished past. 
 
 The night I was a fair young bride, 
 
 Orange buds in my hair, 
 Upon my breast there shone such pearls,- 
 
 Jewels a queen might wear! 
 
 My satin dress, in graceful folds 
 As snow wreaths soft and bright, 
 
 Half hidden 'neath my bridal veil. 
 Gleamed pure and white that night. 
 
 I stood with proud and regal mien, 
 
 My hero at my side. 
 My heart rose high in pride and joy, 
 
 I was a soldier's bride. 
 
 Ten days and duty's call grew clear, 
 
 And he must haste away; 
 208 
 
A Soldier's Bride. 209 
 
 I cheered and said, Be brave and strong, 
 For valor wins the day. 
 
 He led his army forth to war — 
 
 Then swift a deadly ball 
 Went crashing through his brave young 
 heart — 
 
 How thick the teardrops fall! 
 
 They brought him in his martial cloak 
 
 Within these halls so wide, 
 Where just ten days ago he came 
 
 To claim a waiting bride. 
 
 They laid him in a churchyard near, 
 
 Where I might sometimes go 
 And bathe his grave with loving tears, 
 
 And weep a widow's woe. 
 
 Oh, deep and faithful is the wound! 
 
 And time seems loath to heal 
 The heavy grief upon my heart 
 
 When by his grave I kneel. 
 
 Joy for me died long ago, 
 
 Yet I have sought to brave 
 The scenes of life, but, oh, my heart 
 
 Lies in a soldier's grave. 
 14 
 
210 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And when adown the crimson west, 
 Beyond the sun-crowned hill 
 
 The soldier comes to claim his bride, 
 He'll find me waiting still. 
 
SWEET PEAS. 
 
 The quaint old house by the river, 
 With its shadowy ehns so tall! 
 
 Where orioles used to Build, 
 
 And the sweet peas over the wall. 
 
 The lisping of the waters blue. 
 As the tide doth rise and fall: 
 
 Where the starry jessamine twines, 
 And the sweet peas over the wall. 
 
 The spring at the foot of the hill, 
 With its crystal cooling for all; 
 
 The soft south wind with fragrant breath, 
 And the sweet peas over the wall. 
 
 The rare old garden rich with bloom. 
 
 And the whippoorwill's evening call. 
 How dear to me these scenes of youth, 
 
 And the sweet peas over the wall ! 
 
 211 
 
A WOMAN'S TRIAL. 
 
 He has come to ope 
 
 The purple testament of bleeding war. 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 And so my heart was rent in twain, 
 
 The day they rode away : 
 My husband wore the coat of Blue, 
 
 My child the Southern Gray! 
 
 I watched them in dumb despair, 
 
 I must pray for the blue? 
 Oh, no ! my child, thy mother's heart 
 
 Will ever plead for you. 
 
 Then I thought, the rain doth fall, on 
 
 The unjust as the true ; 
 So I must plead for both alike. 
 
 The Southern Gray, the Blue. 
 
 His father saw his bright head fall 
 Low on his manly breast, 
 
 212 
 
A Woman's Trial. 213 
 
 And thus they brought him back to me — 
 God only knows the rest. 
 
 Sometimes I gently lift the veil 
 
 From treasures hid away, 
 And press close to my aching heart 
 
 This faded coat of Gray. 
 
 Till all the past seems but a dream, 
 
 And I can only see 
 My soldier boy a child again, 
 
 His head upon my knee. 
 
 So I touch this little coat, as 
 
 I did his sunny hair : 
 When I laid my hand on his head, 
 
 As he sat beside my chair. 
 
 I feel again his loving arms, 
 
 As the day he went away, 
 I hear him whisper soft and low, 
 
 *' Dear mother, love the Gray.'' 
 
 No need, oh child of mine, to say 
 
 With thy last farewell breath. 
 Thy mother's heart doth follow thee 
 
 Beyond the gloom of death. 
 
214 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And I will fold him to my breast, 
 Oh, nearer draw the day! 
 
 To crown a mother's deathless love, 
 Child of the Southern Gray! 
 
MY NURSE. 
 
 I LOVE to gaze at her nut-brown hair, 
 
 And eyes of hazel hue, 
 But I love her most for her Christ-like life 
 
 And Christian virtues true. 
 
 God gives such lives to bless this world 
 And smoothe the w^eary way — 
 
 They change a wilderness of woe 
 To calm and perfect day. 
 
 SwTet as the alabaster box of 
 
 Ointment given to Him, 
 She freely gives her pure young life, 
 
 Nor glory seeks to wan. 
 
 When He comes to make up His jewels 
 
 And bids the faithful rest, 
 I know He will give to her a 
 
 Crown of righteousness. 
 
 215 
 
THE SILENT CITY. 
 
 We all have bowed in sorrow, 
 And how our hearts have bled, 
 
 When we come to lay some treasure 
 'Neath the silent city's shade. 
 
 The mother yields a loving child, 
 
 In agony and prayer, 
 Entering within this city. 
 
 To rest forever there. 
 
 The wife in her youthful beauty, 
 Leaves home and kindred dear. 
 
 To slumber in this city, though 
 Loved ones linger near. 
 
 And the little feet of children 
 Have wandered in this fold, 
 
 Lo, its gates are always open, 
 Receiving young and old. 
 
 Brightest hopes lie buried here 
 
 And mourners kneel to weep 
 216 
 
The Silent City. 217 
 
 Close by the side of their darlings, 
 In calm and dreamless sleep. 
 
 Though we miss their coming footsteps, 
 
 And deeply may we grieve, 
 And hover ever around them, 
 
 No word do we receive. 
 
 But Christ knows all the bitterness. 
 
 And all the pain we feel : 
 The loneliness and the longing, 
 
 When by these graves we kneel. 
 
 When he walked on earth with men. 
 
 Oh, grieving heart rejoice! 
 He said, all those within the graves 
 
 Should one day hear His voice! 
 
 Hear, O hear these Holy words, '* Thy 
 
 Brother shall rise again." 
 This promise fell from lips divine, 
 
 To calm our heart's deep pain. 
 
 Then over this silent city, 
 
 Angels their watches keep; 
 For dear in the sight of the Lord, 
 
 Are these who softly sleep. 
 
GONE BEFORE. 
 
 If I could but lift this silence, 
 
 That falls upon my heart; 
 Or just one moment stay, the 
 
 Unbidden tears that start. 
 
 Or still the never-ceaseless cry 
 That surges o'er my soul. — 
 
 My empty arms may ne'er again 
 My little boy enfold. 
 
 Come back, my little boy, come back, 
 Thy mother yearns for thee; 
 
 Thy little bed beside my own 
 In silence pleads for thee. 
 
 I feel thy little clinging arms 
 All through the long, sad day; 
 
 I hear again thy merry voice, 
 When little children play. 
 
 And so I cry a soul's deep cry, 
 
 Come back, my little boy, 
 218 
 
Gone Before. 219 
 
 Thy mother's Hfe, thy mother's hope, 
 Thy mother's holy joy. 
 
 He never can return to me, 
 
 But I can go to him. 
 My soul grows calm in the blessed thought. 
 
 Though my eyes with tears are dim. 
 
 In the heavenly home beyond, 
 
 Over the crystal sea, 
 My little boy, an angel bright. 
 
 Will ever wait for me. 
 
 Could I but see the gladsome light 
 
 Upon his little face, 
 As he looks upon the beauties 
 
 That fill the holy place. 
 
 Could I behold the glories there, 
 Which round my child entwine, 
 
 I'd deem it wrong to wish him back, 
 Oh Saviour, Christ divine! 
 
 I'll watch the dawning of the day 
 When Christ shall bid me come 
 
 Away from tears and sorrows here, 
 To live in Heaven's bright home. 
 
220 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 My heart, be still, and think of this, 
 And look to Him in trust — 
 
 To Him who knoweth our frame and 
 Remembereth we are dust. 
 
LOOK UP. 
 
 A SMILING face at the window, 
 
 A bird-like call to me; 
 Oh, little one, close to my heart ! 
 
 I yearn for thee. 
 
 'Twas a little loving- presence, 
 
 A footstep in the hall; 
 But it shed in my life a joy, 
 
 I would recall. 
 
 An empty bed beside my own, 
 
 Silence everywhere ! 
 Instead of music sweet I see 
 
 A vacant chair. 
 
 A little grave out in the cold. 
 Where lights and shadows fall. 
 
 My desolated heart and home, 
 And that is all. 
 
 221 
 
222 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Oh, no, sad one! That is not all, 
 Though thy heart be riven, 
 
 Remember who hath said, ^' Of such 
 Is the kingdom of Heaven." 
 
THE LAST LETTER. 
 
 I DID not know the letter was 
 
 The last I ever should write; 
 And I had so much to tell him, 
 
 I wrote far into the night. 
 I had been to many places 
 
 Loved in the golden days, 
 When he and I together there 
 
 Knew naught of troubled ways. 
 
 I told him our beautiful walk 
 
 Under the edge of the wood 
 Was neglected and overgrown, 
 
 Where the pines and maples stood. 
 But the cowslips were just as sweet 
 
 As they were so long ago, 
 And the lilacs lifted their plumes, 
 
 As beautiful drifts of snow. 
 
 The air stole in at the casement, 
 
 With syringeas' perfume sweet. 
 
 Just beyond lay the fallow lands, 
 
 223 
 
224 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And fields of rustling wheat. 
 When I stood beneath the myrtle, 
 
 And saw so much he loved, 
 I could almost hear his voice, and 
 
 My heart was deeply moved. 
 
 Skies had never seemed so blue. 
 
 Or the robin's note so sweet, 
 The very grass wore a softer 
 
 Sheen springing beneath my feet, 
 Then over the hills I climbed 
 
 And stood by the surging sea. 
 Far away from the restless crowd, 
 
 Alone, beloved, with thee! 
 
 His soft brown eyes looked in mine 
 
 Oh, who so happy as we! 
 As on these sands we gathered 
 
 The wonders of the sea. 
 All this and more I gently wrote. 
 
 With sweet loving thoughts for him, 
 They were so holy and tender, 
 
 Sometimes my eyes grew dim. 
 
 Then swift on the wings of the wind 
 At the rising of the sun. 
 
The Last Letter. 225 
 
 Swept over the wires this message : 
 ''Died this morning at one!" 
 
 It smote my heart with an anguish 
 Unlanguaged in its pain : 
 
 And the fatal words keep ringing 
 Forever on in my brain. 
 
 They told me within his bosom, 
 
 They found a letter there, 
 Close to his faithful heart, from a 
 
 Sister beloved and dear. 
 So I will wait for the answer, 
 
 He will one day bring to me, 
 When over the hills eternal, 
 
 We walk again by the sea! 
 15 
 
"LET ME DIE THE DEATH OF THE 
 RIGHTEOUS." 
 
 At early dawn the faithful watchers drew 
 
 Nearer unto the sufferer's couch, knew 
 
 They the hour now for sweet release had 
 
 come — 
 For her shone glimpses of another home. 
 
 She had attained calm resignation, 
 Through long, weary months of abnegation. 
 A holy voice upon the stillness rose, 
 Assuring each in tones of deep repose, 
 
 " Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing 
 
 eyes, 
 Shine through the gloom and point me to 
 
 the skies ; 
 Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain 
 
 shadows flee; 
 
 In life and death, O Lord, abide with me!" 
 
 When silence fell she was indeed with Him. 
 226 
 
The Death of the Righteous. 227 
 
 From Eastern skies shot through the cham- 
 ber dim 
 Soft rays of Hght upon her closed eyes 
 As then for her celestial glories rise. 
 
THE VOICE OF LOVE. 
 
 If when I lie upon my cold death bier 
 
 Thou then shouldst come and whisper unto 
 
 me 
 
 In accents low and sweet I love to hear 
 
 My soul will make thee feel I know thee 
 
 near. 
 228 
 
HIS GIFT. 
 
 Sitting here by the ingle grate, 
 The fire burns low, the hour grows late. 
 Such a night in the long ago 
 The wind swept through the lattice low. 
 Oh, the night was dark ! 
 
 A message came from far away- 
 Bidding me come without delay, 
 My brother was ill, calling me; 
 Could I reach him in time to see 
 A tender light shine in his eyes? 
 Would he greet me in sweet surprise? 
 Oh, the night was dark ! 
 
 Morning came, I knelt by his bed — 
 
 All alone with my peaceful dead ! 
 
 In anguish I plead for one word. 
 
 My soul's deep cry was all I heard. 
 
 I do not know how long I wept ; 
 
 None beside us the vigil kept. 
 
 Oh, the hour was dark ! 
 
 229 
 
^30 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 At length a low voice at my side 
 Said : " My lady, ere he died, 
 From his finger he drew this ring 
 For you to wear. Oh, let it bring 
 Some comfort ! He loved you dear, 
 His spirit now may linger near." 
 But my grief was wild ! 
 
 " Now my lady, lift up your head, 
 For calm and quiet is the dead. 
 He suffered much, that is past. 
 You he loved unto the last. 
 Put on this ring and let it be 
 A bond of love 'twixt him and thee. 
 Stay thy grief, poor child." 
 
 I took the ring and put it on, 
 Then calmer thoughts began to dawn, 
 My grief stood still, I took his hand. 
 *' Love me still in the better land. 
 Where thou art, where thou hast a home, 
 Ever my heart must fondly come 
 And linger with thee." 
 
 So I have worn this ring through years, 
 Oft baptized it with my tears. 
 But it has been a strength to me 
 
His Gift. 231 
 
 Speaking of him I could not see. 
 Casting a light, its little stone 
 Reflects his love as years go on, 
 And he still seems near. 
 
HEAVEN. 
 
 " There shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, 
 neither shall there be any more pain." 
 
 Oh, soul of mine! these gracious words at- 
 tend : 
 
 There is a land where blight doth not descend ; 
 
 Pain or wasting ne'er hath entered there, 
 
 No faces sad attenuation wear. 
 
 No clouds float by to dim the clear bright 
 vision, 
 
 No chill winds sweep across its fields elysian. 
 
 Sorrow and death can never dwell therein. 
 
 And oh, my heart, strange words to say, no sin ! 
 
 No farewells break upon the air supernal. 
 
 And in that land all things are eternal. 
 
 No sun to scorch the traveler on his way, 
 
 Or cast its beams to fade in one short day. 
 
 The glory and honor of the nations 
 
 Shall come into it through strange negations. 
 
 God's everlasting glory lights the place. 
 232 
 
Heaven. 233 
 
 Oh, words divine ! '' And they shall see His 
 
 face." 
 Our beloved singing sweet evangels, 
 They are, too, our ministering angels. 
 My soul, in all thy restless journeyings here 
 Hast thou e'er found a land so wondrous fair? 
 Ah, no! 'tis only when we gain release, 
 And care and woe at length have full surcease 
 There Christ reigns supreme, and He hath 
 
 given 
 Us a home within that land — 'tis Heaven. 
 
MILDRED AND CARL. 
 
 Two little graves in the shadow, 
 Where the soft winds gently blow; 
 
 Two little forms in the silence 
 'Neath a Southern sunset's glow. 
 
 Two glad little angels singing, 
 
 Evangels low and sweet : 
 Two radiant angels watching, 
 
 The coming of thy feet. 
 
 234 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 *' Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me, 
 be with me where I am ; that they may behold my glory." 
 
 The long sad months of pain have passed, 
 and rest hath come ; 
 
 The Saviour calls thy child unto that blessed 
 home, 
 
 The home prepared, where happiness is deep 
 and sweet. 
 
 And all the years eternally with holy joys com- 
 plete. 
 
 To-day she lifts her glad and radiant eyes 
 
 Upon the fadeless beauty of God's own Para- 
 dise. 
 
 Her tireless feet doth lightly press the heavenly 
 field; 
 
 And every passing hour, new glories are re- 
 vealed. 
 
 Oh, mother, call her not again, tho' grief is 
 deep and strong! 
 
 235 
 
236 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 But listen in the twiHght hour, to catch her 
 
 angel song. 
 Thou couldst not shield her from the woes of 
 
 earthly strife, 
 Oh, trust her to the Saviour's care in that new 
 
 life! 
 At best our paths are filled with thorns, they 
 
 press our feet, 
 And all our joys are mixed the bitter with the 
 
 sweet. 
 Behold her glorified, crowned in immortal 
 
 light, 
 In the fair city of God, where there shall be no 
 
 night. 
 And she hath rivers of peace, sorrows all over- 
 past! 
 Oh Christ, but let us enter those pearl-set gates 
 
 at last! 
 
" I AM THE WAY." 
 
 I AM bewildered in the maze, 
 With anxious fears, and hurrying days; 
 Is there no quiet path, no arm to stay? 
 The voice of Jesus calls, " I am the way ! " 
 
 The bonds I deemed most true and strong 
 Are sundered as the years go on. 
 Return, return, oh, sacred ties of youth! 
 The voice of Jesus calls, '' I am the Truth ! 
 
 Now as through a glass we darkly see, 
 
 Then, oh, face to face, beholding Thee ! 
 
 Far, far away, we leave our earthly strife — 
 
 The voice of Jesus calls, '' I am the Life! '' 
 
 237 
 
A MOTHER'S SORROW. 
 
 Let not your hearts be troubled, 
 
 Ye believe in God." 
 Believe in me, His Son hath said; 
 
 There rest upon His word. 
 Thy child hath pleasures greater far 
 
 Than earth can ever give. 
 His joy to-day we cannot know, 
 
 We cannot see and live. 
 
 In our blind way we feel keen pain 
 
 To give him back to God, 
 And walk alone Gethsemane, 
 
 And feel the chastening rod. 
 Knowing so well his calm, pure life. 
 
 We fain would keep him here. 
 To lean upon his faithful love 
 
 And feel his presence near. 
 
 The intervaj that lies between, 
 
 May not be very far ; 
 
 We sometimes almost catch sweet songs 
 238 
 
A Mother's Sorrow. 239 
 
 Through pearly gates ajar. 
 For him eternal dawn in peace, 
 
 And glories fadeless shine; 
 For us the shadow and the pain 
 
 About our path to twine. 
 
 Into the house not made with hands 
 
 Death's curse can never come; 
 No wail or anguish there is heard, 
 
 No farewells in that home. 
 No mother mourns her early dead. 
 
 Or fears the blight of sin; 
 The withering touch of care and pain 
 
 Can never enter in. 
 
 Then, grieving heart, look up in hope, 
 
 And feel thy lot most blest 
 To know thy child hath found that home — 
 
 The soul's eternal rest. 
 
DESOLATE. 
 
 What art can a woman be good at ? Oh, vain ! 
 What art is she good at, but hurting her breast. 
 
 — Mrs. Browning. 
 
 Three boys dead, and I sit and moan, 
 In anguish deep, hard to be borne. 
 
 Oh, this unlanguaged despair! 
 This bitter, agonizing woe. 
 As only a mother can know, 
 
 When she looks at the empty chair. 
 
 I watched for the time to come, 
 
 To welcome my three brave boys home; 
 
 My heart was so light all the day, 
 To think how closely I might press 
 Them, in a warm loving embrace. 
 
 For long, long had they been away. 
 
 Then they came, but not my bright boys, 
 
 The crowning hope of all my joys, 
 
 But, oh, for me Gethsemane! 
 
 I had yearned so oft to see, 
 240 
 
Desolate. 241 
 
 My boys return again to me: 
 And now I can but look to Thee ! 
 
 The battlefield, and prison fare, 
 Had left its heavy trace of care; 
 
 A mother's heart is quick to know, 
 I saw disease had set its fangs, 
 And over each brow it subtly hangs — 
 
 Love refused to own it so ! 
 
 But e'er a year had flitted by, 
 
 Only three graves, three graves had I ! 
 
 Oh, my bright, noble boys all gone. 
 Did a woman ever do more 
 P'or her country this wide world o'er 
 
 Than to give her three sons, three sons. 
 
 Saviour, bind thou my broken heart; 
 Calm this wild pain and bitter smart, 
 
 That I may transfigured be. 
 Draw near to me, pour oil and wine 
 On my poor heart, make grief sublime — 
 
 I lowly kneel and cry to thee. 
 
 16 
 
MY LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead ! 
 Sit and watch by her side an hour. 
 
 — Robert Browning. 
 
 I SIT to-day with empty arms, 
 
 And with saddened eyes I see 
 My little girl, so still and calm. 
 
 Can never more respond to me. 
 
 My one ewe lamb I treasured! 
 
 As sheltered on my breast, 
 I thought of coming years so bright 
 
 And felt my life supremely blest. 
 
 I thought now day by day Fd teach, 
 Her feet the blessed way to press, 
 
 And tell of Him who sought for us, 
 A shining robe of righteousness. 
 
 Didst Thou, oh Saviour, Christ divine, 
 
 Look down from heaven and pity me ? 
 242 
 
My Little Girl. 243 
 
 To know the things I deemed so fair 
 Concealed thorns I could not see. 
 
 The sweetest rose we claim must fade; 
 
 The fairest flowers droop and die. 
 But nothing ever comes to harm — 
 
 Our sacred treasures in the sky. 
 
 She was too pure, too fair for earth, 
 So Christ hath called her home; 
 
 And some calm day when work is done, 
 The same sweet voice will bid me come. 
 
 And she shall be the silver cord. 
 
 To bind my heart to Heaven, 
 ril trust my Saviour every day, 
 
 Tho' trials hard so oft are given. 
 
 And so I press one last long kiss, 
 Upon my darling's marble brow, 
 
 And lift my streaming eyes to Heaven 
 
 And plead for strength and comfort now. 
 
 Oh, Christ, Thy mother yielded Thee! 
 
 And felt the sting of human woe ; 
 Thy sacred heart with anguish rent — 
 
 Yet words of comfort overflow. 
 
244 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 And I will hear Thy gracious words 
 Steal gently o'er my chastened heart; 
 
 I listen for Thy footfall now, 
 
 I seek to know Thee as Thou art 
 
 Oh, Sun of Righteousness, arise ! 
 
 With blessed healing in Thy wings, 
 And cast Thy holy light on me, 
 
 As I dwell on heavenly things. 
 
MY SONG. 
 
 "Lead, kindly Light, amid the encirclinggloom, 
 Lead thou me on." 
 Through the deepening shadows yet to come 
 
 " Lead thou me on." 
 I am so weary and the way is long, 
 1 scarce can lift my voice in prayer or song. 
 
 I can but breathe the words my thoughts 
 repeat, 
 
 '' Lead thou me on." 
 Father, but let me feel its meaning sweet, 
 
 As I go on. 
 Is it Thy leading now to feel Thy peace, 
 Breathing over, my soul a sweet release. 
 
 From fears that chill and fright my soul 
 from Thee, 
 
 Lead on. Lead on. 
 The circle's wide, the gloom, shed Thou 
 
 245 
 
24'3 Under the Southern Sun. 
 
 Thy Hght 
 
 Upon my night. 
 ThougTi I tremble while I sing, take my hand. 
 I trust Thee, though I cannot understand. 
 
EXPERIENCE. 
 
 If thou wouldst climb above, 'twill be by thine 
 Own pain and not another's; the strength to 
 Meet thy soul's most trying need must find 
 Its source within thy breast ; thou must pursue 
 Thy way by conscious power and light divine ; 
 Else thy sphere by narrow limitation 
 Art bounded. Only an imitation 
 Thou wilt prove. The summit of thy soul's 
 
 vast 
 Height thou canst not reach unless the lowliest 
 Task thou hast thou dost perform with pa- 
 tience. Cast 
 Thou thy anchor deep beyond the shore lines 
 Of thy mortal sight, lest thou shouldst fail 
 
 What 
 Most ennobles and uplifts is not 
 Material gain, but what is learned 
 From life's appointed tasks, and turned' 
 
 In power to consecrate the present hour. 
 
 247 
 
SORROW. 
 
 Sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 Why dost thou ask me, friend, to tell thee 
 
 what 
 Is sorrow? Disciplin-ed heart, canst thou not 
 Say? Oh, no; 'twere easier now to find 
 The trackless way, from whence the stinging 
 
 wind 
 Above the tumult wild that smites the storm- 
 Swept ocean's breast, then sinks to perfect 
 
 calm. 
 
 I know it is a silent guest to come 
 
 With stealthy step and linger in the home. 
 
 And sit beside thee at thy daily task, 
 
 And whisper to thy bruis'd and bleeding heart 
 
 The torturing thought thou fain wouldst cast 
 
 Into oblivion's depths. Where'er thou arf 
 
 She overhangs thy way to keep the past 
 
 Before thy tearful eyes ; and lest the smart 
 248 
 
Sorrow. 240 
 
 Shouldst heal, she lays her withering touch 
 
 upon 
 The wound, to chill anew the soul with an- 
 guish. 
 Who may stay the coming of her feet on 
 Any path, or bribe her zeal to languish? 
 I cannot tell thee of this solemn guest — 
 I only know her touch hath pierced my breast. 
 
BOOKS. 
 
 The sun streams in across my library chair, 
 From the conservatory; air aroma- 
 Laden floats softly in. My friends are here — 
 The wise, the good, the great; I sit and learn 
 Of them ; the ministry of their lives bear 
 Testimony in the sweet songs they sing; 
 Their sympathy in melody doth ring 
 Needful lessons they have duly learned, 
 And they unfold to me their thoughts sublime. 
 And lend me counsels from their store divine; 
 Treasured riches of a broad, deep mind. 
 Where love in holy sanctitude hath burned 
 To be a light to those who climb toward 
 Some lofty height, seeking the infinite. 
 The good, the wise, the great, in one accord 
 Assembled here. The tribute of my 
 Love I give to these my faithful friends, my 
 
 Books. 
 250 
 
DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 As from Adonis' blood sprang the crimson 
 
 rose, 
 
 Whose soft unfoldings hath revealed 
 
 Its gleaming heart of gold; 
 
 So when some cherished hope lies dead, glows 
 
 There its soul so long concealed, 
 
 In another form it lives, 
 
 And sweeter incense gives. 
 
 251 
 
SYMPATHY. 
 
 If I of heaven a gift might ask 
 
 It would be that one human heart might be 
 
 In perfect harmony with mine own, see 
 
 With my soul's eyes, know my allotted task, 
 
 Enter into the fellowship of my 
 
 Sorrows. Respond when reaching out, above. 
 
 Beyond my higher, better self, not by 
 
 Honeyed words, but full sustaining love. 
 
 One heart attuned unto mine own to lend 
 
 The enduring sympathy of a friend. 
 252 
 
A MOTHER'S LOVE. 
 
 (Before a statue of Niobe.) 
 
 Proud Niobe, in thy frozen grief thou 
 Art an emblem of a mother's love; thy 
 Brgken heart no healing found, though thy 
 
 brow 
 With honors rare art crowned; the low cry 
 That rent thy heart in twain doth but disclose 
 How deep the love within thy bosom glows. 
 Well knew Latona how to aim her dart — 
 Strike first the child to break the mother's 
 
 heart. 
 It took a mother thus to plan thy woe. 
 The arrow in the bosom of each child 
 Sped through thine own breast from thy mortal 
 
 foe. 
 Silent in thy grief, no outpouring wild 
 Marks thy anguish. With thine eyes raised 
 
 above 
 Stand thou proud monument of a mother's 
 
 love. 
 
 253 
 
CHATTERTON. 
 
 Oh, Chatterton, thou child of genius and 
 Misfortune, how hard thy lot. Thou wert so 
 Young to feel the venomed shaft and blow 
 Which strikes maturer years. Thy soul, so 
 
 grand 
 In scope imparadised the youthful hour, 
 While scarce beyond a mother's guiding hand 
 Or childhood's joys; thou then didst under- 
 stand 
 Themes of seers. Thy soul's unresting power 
 As the wild resurgent sea swept on 
 Its swelling tide within a childish breast. 
 A vintage rich thou hadst to feed upon 
 Of which the world dreamed not; too oft its 
 
 quest 
 Ignores the lofty soul and gives a crown 
 Of thorn to him who soothes its sorrow best. 
 254 
 
MILTON. 
 
 Thou who didst sit in darkness and in gloom, 
 Yet seeing more than we with vision blest, 
 Gave still thy thoughts exalted to illume 
 Adoring hearts with truth, which is a guest 
 As pure as breath of vestal violet. 
 While at this feast thou didst prepare I sit, 
 Thou hast the food of angels. While in their 
 Company thou art a radiant light, 
 The luster from thy pages shineth clear 
 As glory from the wings of seraphs bright.: 
 
 255 
 
SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 (After seeing Julius Caesar.) 
 
 I WONDER if, when thou thy thoughts didst 
 
 weave 
 
 In forms immortal, thou then didst guess the 
 
 Monument of fame enduring, we 
 
 Look upon to-day. Thy name dost Hve 
 
 And is a household word in many lands 
 
 Beyond thy English home ; thy place yet stands 
 
 Secure. Imperial Caesar's name 
 
 Is interwoven with thy lasting fame. 
 
 Thy master hand, oh poet ! well doth trace 
 
 The passions of the soul which mar or grace. 
 256 
 
KEATS. 
 
 The sweet vervain on the sea-washed sands 
 Afar from summer gardens' primrose bloom, 
 Hath strayed to ocean's bounds, and stands 
 To yield its incense there; so I, too. come, 
 Oh, Keats ! to think of thee and yield my 
 Willing tribute to thy genius, and thy 
 '* Name in water writ." The mighty onslaught 
 Of the thundering sea upon the sands 
 Breathes still of thee, as fame extends her 
 
 hands 
 And sings thy tender songs with beauty 
 
 fraught. 
 Oh, young Endymion, thou long hast slept! 
 But ere thy bright eyes closed thou then didst 
 
 touch 
 The silver lute strings, which have softly kept 
 Sweet strains astir for those who love thee 
 
 much. 
 17 257 
 
LIFE. 
 
 We look across the waste of fleeting years, 
 And call in vain for joys they held for us ; 
 Silence echoes back our fervent prayers 
 They have drifted on, far beyond recall. 
 
 We do not know, or see, or understand; 
 
 And thus we fill the measure of our days, 
 
 And when at length we see and comprehend 
 
 And would our steps retrace, our lives are done. 
 258 
 
 126 
 
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