PS 
 
 ,.>..-.. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ... . Copyright No..____*__. 
 Shelf__*_CT V& 
 
 Chap. Copyright No. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
C. A. CASTLE. 
 
VOICES OP SONG. 
 
 A Volume of Poems 
 
 BY 
 
 C. A. CASTLE. 
 
 1395 
 
 BURLINGTON : 
 
 FREE PRESS ASSOCIATION, 
 
 PRINTERS, BINDERS AND STATIONERS. 
 
 1808. 
 
 
 * ndl Copy TW IVED- 
 
 789 ** ' r?)C7 5^ 
 
ZWH 
 
 To the companion of my life, who still abides with me, 
 this volume is affectionately dedicated 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress in the year i8g8. 
 
 By C A. Castle. 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The author has long desired that his scattered, and 
 
 wandering "children," might "be gathered into a home. 
 
 At the request of friends, this volume is given to the 
 
 public, in the belief that it will possess a local, if not a 
 
 general interest, and in the hope that, at least, some 
 
 degree of pleasure and profit, may be derived from its 
 
 perusal. 
 
 0. A. G. 
 
o 7 Vi 
 
The Voice of Sacred Song. 
 
 As I walked one lovely morning 
 Through our city's quid street. 
 My attention was arrested 
 By the sound of music sweet, 
 Borne upon the morning breezes 
 As it sweetly rose and fell. 
 Now with soft harmonious cadence, 
 Now with sued and gentle swell. 
 
 And I listened all enraptured. 
 To the voice of sacred song 
 ('oiuing from a passing carriage 
 As it slowly moved along, — 
 "Guide me, thou great Jehovah, 
 Pilgrim through this barren land, 
 I am weak, but thou art mighty, 
 Hold me with thy powerful hand." 
 
 Still I listened, still that music 
 Floated on the morning air, 
 And my heart was lifted upward 
 On the wings of that sweet prayer, 
 Still the sound came floating, floating, 
 Through the trees their voices rang, 
 Wafted by the inspiration 
 Of the words they sweetly sang. 
 
<; 
 
 Rich soprano, lovely alto, 
 Deepest bass and tenor strong, 
 Harmony almost celestial 
 Blended in that sacred song, — 
 " Open now the crystal fountain, 
 Whence the healing waters flow, 
 Let the fiery, cloudy pillar 
 Lead me all my journey through." 
 
 Still I watched that passing carriage, 
 As it slowly moved away, 
 To the house of grief and mourning 
 Where the dead in silence lay. 
 But there came from out the distance, 
 As the chorus died away, 
 Whispers like the voice of angels 
 And in song I heard them say, — 
 
 " When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
 Bid my anxious fears subside, 
 Bear me through the swelling current 
 Land me safe on Canaan's side." 
 And I blessed them for their music, 
 By the breezes borne along ; 
 And I thanked the Heavenly Father, 
 For the gift of sacred song. 
 
The Old College Bell. 
 
 Ring out the glad music 
 
 O'er woodland and dell ! 
 
 1 hail the rich notes 
 
 Of the old college bell. 
 
 No music of Nature 
 
 To me is so dear 
 
 As its tones, which in childhood 
 
 First fell on my ear. 
 
 What thoughts they awaken, 
 Of Boyhood's bright hours ; 
 Blue skies, and green meadows, 
 Of birds and of Mowers ; 
 While life's cares and sorrows 
 As yet were unknown ; 
 And earth with its glories 
 Seemed all as my own. 
 
 How oft' have I listened 
 
 To catch the refrain 
 
 Which rolled o'er the landscape 
 
 Again and again ; 
 
 As its summons went forth, 
 
 On the still morning air, 
 
 Awaking the sleepers, 
 
 And calling to prayer. 
 
8 
 
 Ah well I remember, 
 When brought to its home 
 In the belfry, high over 
 The tin-covered dome ; 
 Its loud throbbing tones 
 Woke the echoes around, 
 And the morning air quivered 
 With billows of sound. 
 
 And through the long years 
 Its rich tones we have heard, 
 As sweet, and as welcome 
 As spring's early bird ; 
 Save, when idle students, 
 Indulging a hope 
 Of slumbering later, 
 Had hidden the rope ; 
 Or, vainly decreeing 
 It should not be rung ; 
 Have climbed to the belfry, 
 And stolen the tongue. 
 
 Of late we have missed 
 Its sweet mellowing tone ; 
 But it only awaited 
 A worthier throne ; 
 Now, nobly bestowed 
 By a citizen's hand ; 
 Whose grand benefactions 
 
Forever si ia 1 1 stand, 
 
 A monument far more 
 
 Enduring than stone ; 
 
 And whose name will be honored, 
 
 When ages are gone. 
 
 Then speak from your tower 
 Old friend of my youth ! 
 Speak forth through the ages 
 For knowledge' and truth ; 
 Ring out the loud paean, 
 O'er mountain and dell ! 
 For the glad restoration 
 < \i the old col lege bell. 
 
 Prehistoric Vermont. 
 
 Where Missisquoi's quiet current 
 Wanders to the lake ; 
 Where Winooski's foaming waters 
 Through the gorges break ; 
 
 Where Lamoille her tribute gathers 
 From the mountain side ; 
 And where Otter Creek delivers 
 Her unceasing tide : 
 
10 
 
 Up and down these lovely valleys, 
 And by stream, and shore, 
 Dwelt a pre-historic people, 
 In the days of yore. 
 
 Ere Columbus had discovered 
 San Salvador's ground ; 
 Ere Amerigo Vespuccii 
 A new world had found ; 
 
 Long ere Cortez and his army 
 Marched to Mexico, 
 And that proud old Aztec city 
 In the dust laid low ; 
 
 Ere Pizarro righting fiei*cely, 
 •Conquered rich Peru ; 
 And upon her bloody altars 
 There her priests he slew. 
 
 Older than the old Algonquins, 
 Of the age of stone ; 
 Ere the Iroquois had entered, 
 They had come and gone. 
 
 Near where Pittsburgh's domes and steeples 
 
 ( >verlook the bay ; 
 
 There, these pre-historic people 
 
 Molded from the clay ; 
 
 Earthen pots and earthen vessels, 
 'Curious and fine ; 
 
11 
 
 Covered o'er with decorations 
 Of unique design. 
 
 Whence the}' came, or what their nature, 
 How they passed away ; 
 If by pestilence or famine 
 No one now can say. 
 
 [f by war's fierce desolation, 
 Fighting for their life ; 
 Till, at length, extermination 
 ( Hosed the deadly strife. 
 
 What might be their faith or worship? 
 Many gods, or one? 
 Did they bow in aodration, 
 Worshiping the sun? 
 
 Can it be that on our hilltops 
 Human victims bled 
 And upon polluted altars 
 Human blood was shed? 
 
 Naught is left to tell the story 
 
 Of a nation gone, 
 
 Nothing, save their rude and speechless 
 
 Implements of stone. 
 
 Where the water of Missisquoi 
 Her embankment leaves ; 
 Under pines of giant stature 
 There we find their graves. 
 
12 
 Our Fatherland. 
 
 We love thee, we love thee, thou land of the free, 
 Thou home of the Pilgrims, our hearts cling to thee ; 
 So lovely, so dear are thy valleys and hills, 
 More precious than rubies thy rocks and thy rills. 
 
 O'er all the bright landscape thou reignest in bliss, 
 With naught to disturb thee, sweet Angel of Peace. 
 We bring to our country our tribute of song, 
 Each mountain and valley the strain shall prolong. 
 
 And o'er her broad plains let the anthem rebound. 
 Let the thunders of ocean re-echo the sound, 
 Till one grand oblation of praise shall arise 
 High upward, still upward, ascending the skies. 
 
 Contented and happy thy people shall be, 
 And long shall they dwell under Liberty's tree ; 
 < >Yr each hill and valley, each mountain and stream 
 The sun of Prosperity brightly shall gleam. 
 
 Here, under thy aegis, the poor and oppressed, 
 
 In quiet and safety may peacefully rest ; 
 
 Nor shall the bright morn of thy glorious day 
 
 Grow darker, or fainter, as time wears away. 
 
 Here, out from the fount of religion and law 
 
 The people their blessings and comforts shall draw ; 
 
 Unfettered by tyrants from mountain to sea, 
 
 Secure in their union thy children shall be ; 
 
 The ages shall bless thee, thou Home of the Free. 
 
13 
 
 The Teacher the True Hero. 
 
 [A Poem delivered before the Chittenden County Teachers' Association. 
 
 At the instance of your President 
 
 Before you I appear, 
 Responding to his summons 
 
 With mingled hope and fear. 
 
 Perhaps 'twas not the wisest thing 
 
 To call for one like me ; 
 But I always have endeavored 
 
 To obey the powers that be. 
 
 What then is the great interest 
 That br< night us here to-day ? 
 
 We hope, by mutual counsel 
 To find out the better way 
 
 Of fixing light and knowledge 
 In the tender mind of youth ; 
 
 And guiding young and wayward feet 
 Along the path of truth. 
 
 Then let us freely speak of wrongs 
 Which for rebuke may call ; 
 
 And without fear of any one, 
 See that we're just to all. 
 
14 
 
 I come not here to tell what angels 
 
 Teachers ought to be ; 
 They'll place the standard high enough 
 
 Without one word from me ; 
 
 And I shall say but little of 
 
 What teachers ought to do ; 
 Ye fathers and ye mothers 
 
 My message is to you ; 
 
 To you would I address to-day 
 
 A kind, but earnest word ; 
 And only ask that what I say 
 
 Shall be as kindly heard. 
 
 I've spent my life's best energies 
 
 In teaching girls and boys ; 
 I know a teacher's labors, 
 
 And a teacher's griefs, and joys. 
 
 The teachers of the public schools, 
 
 Pray tell us who are they ? 
 The people's faithful servants 
 
 Working for the smallest pay. 
 
 The faithful men and women, 
 
 To fame almost unknown ; 
 Who, toiling for the nation's life, 
 
 Are wearing out their own : 
 
 Who, leaving oft, the cheerful scenes. 
 Of childhood's happy home ; 
 
15 
 
 Are molding now, the destinies 
 Of millions yet to come. 
 
 Not those who seek to raise the wind, 
 
 By eking out their time 
 Through the long winter's dreary hours, 
 
 In idleness sublime ; 
 
 Not those who, in their Sunday's best, 
 Go strutting round the school ; 
 
 Or idly sit behind the stove 
 And gnaw a wooden ride ; 
 
 Or sit with feet upon the desk, 
 Or write to some dear friend 
 
 Or flog, secundum artem all 
 Who happen to offend : 
 
 Till all the little one's in fear 
 
 Creep cautiously about, 
 And older ones in counsel grave 
 
 Resolved to "put him out." 
 
 Such teachers once were to be found 
 In school rooms here and there ; 
 
 But they have long been numbered 
 Among the things that were. 
 
 It is a brave and generous thing 
 
 And noble as 'tis brave, 
 To give one's service freely 
 
 The nation's life to save : 
 
16 
 
 To give up home, and comforts, 
 And life's choicest blessings yield ; 
 
 And peril all we hold most dear 
 Upon the battle-field : 
 
 To meet the country's enemies 
 
 In fierce, and deadly strife ; 
 And, with the gushing crimson tide, 
 
 To yield the precious life : 
 
 Such acts as these call forth a nation's 
 
 Gratitude, and praise ; 
 And in honor of such heroes, our 
 
 Triumphant songs we raise. 
 
 But braver, nobler heroes 1 1 1 
 
 Our commonwealth belong ; 
 Whose deeds we seldom celebrate, 
 
 In eulogy, or song ; 
 
 Not in the strife of battle is 
 
 Their bravest warfare done ; 
 Not in the bloody conflict are 
 
 Their noblest victories won ; 
 
 But with youthful hearts their battle-field 
 
 And ignorance their foe ; 
 With faith and love their weapons, 
 
 They forth to conquest go. 
 
 They calmly move among us in 
 Their precious work of love ; 
 
17 
 
 As they polish up the jewels for 
 The treasure-house above. 
 
 They cultivate with skillful rare 
 
 Those intellectual flowers ; 
 Planted by the Creator 
 
 Amid our peaceful bowers : 
 
 They guide their young and tender growth 
 
 With deep and fervent love ; 
 Till tit to be transplanted to 
 
 The Paradise above. 
 
 Look on this truthful picture. 
 
 Though sketched with hasty hand ; 
 
 And behold in them the heroes, 
 The true heroes of the land. 
 
 There is a special tribute due 
 
 To those who labored most; 
 Who from confusion, order brought, 
 
 And marshalled all the host; 
 
 To Dana, who with tireless skill 
 
 Brought in the graded school; 
 And soon the whole Green Mountain State 
 
 Adopts the wholesome rule. 
 
 And Conant faithful as the sun, 
 
 In his diurnal round; 
 Toiled on in hope till, in our midst, 
 
 The Normal School is found; 
 
1: 
 
 And Adams with his plowshare deep 
 Broke up the fallow ground. 
 
 His name will be a household word 
 Where e'er Vermonters dwell; 
 
 And thousands of her sons, with pride 
 Will say, "I knew him well." 
 
 And Dorsey Taylor, true and tried, 
 
 Toiled for the public good; 
 And by long years of faithful work 
 
 Has earned their gratitude. 
 
 As Time rolls round with ceaseless pace, 
 I lis freight of good he brings; 
 
 And teaches us not to despise 
 The day of little things; 
 
 For even in little cities, 
 
 Great teachers have been found, 
 Who, in all knowledge, wisdom, toil, 
 
 And faithfulness abound; 
 
 Teachers with lives unsullied, 
 Blameless, and without guile; 
 
 Yergennes has given to Vermont 
 Her Allen, and her Kyle. 
 
 Nor will Vermonters e'er forget 
 
 The unobtrusive man; 
 Who in the midst of danger 
 
 Was always in the van: 
 
19 
 
 Who left his home, his wife, his child, 
 
 The nation's life to save; 
 And to his country's sacred cause 
 
 His brightest prospects gave; 
 
 Was first to enter Richmond 
 When Rebellion's head lay low; 
 
 And, with his comrades, on that field,. 
 Gave her the final blow; 
 
 Too modest of himself to speak, 
 
 Or sound his praises forth; 
 His sterling worth is best expressed 
 
 By saying " Leavenworth." 
 
 Nor will we fail to speak of him 
 Best known by years of toil; 
 
 In Underbill, in Williston, 
 And now on Brandon's soil. 
 
 Where e'er he moves, his magic touch,. 
 
 Resistless as the tide. 
 And silent as the Heavenly orbs 
 
 That through the ether glide; 
 
 Annihilates confusion, 
 
 Brings order in its stead; 
 And insubordination hides 
 
 Its hateful, hydra head. 
 
 And Spaulding, Mead, and Orcutt too, 
 A noble work have done; 
 
20 
 
 And in their field of labor 
 
 A just renown have won; 
 And Gorham, Bingham, Austin tun; 
 
 A brilliant race have run. 
 
 And Middlebury's pleasant halls 
 Send forth their cultured minds; 
 
 Well fitted by their honored chief 
 To work out Heaven's designs. 
 
 Right grand was the conception, 
 
 And noble was the plan; 
 That placed him there, the Christian meek, 
 
 The scholar, and the man. 
 
 And thou old U. V. M. we hope 
 
 In safety may abide; 
 Since Heaven to thee a Buckham sends 
 Thy onward steps to guide. 
 
 May thy career be glorious, and 
 
 Thy influence ne'er be o'er 
 Thy power for good increasing 
 
 Till time shall be no more. 
 
 Look o'er this broad and glorious land 
 
 The freest land on earth; 
 Our own beloved country, 
 
 The land that gave us birth; 
 
 Behold her waving prairies 
 Bedecked with Mowers of gold; 
 
21 
 
 As, swept by summer zephyrs, 
 Their beauties they unfold; 
 
 Behold her giant mountains 
 
 In craggy grandeur stand; 
 Like lines of mighty sentinels, 
 
 To guard our favored land: 
 
 While her bi'oad lakes, blue and placid 
 
 Like mighty mirrors lie 
 Reflecting back the glories of 
 
 The gorgeous summer sky; 
 
 And her deep, majestic rivers 
 
 Their endless tribute pour; 
 And her rock-bound coast reverberates 
 
 With the Ocean's ceaseless roar: 
 
 And her bright and smiling valleys 
 Their abundant product yields; 
 
 To the millions of her stalwart sons 
 Who plough her fertile fields. 
 
 And her cities rise like magic, 
 
 The creation of a day; 
 And Nature's dormant forces yield 
 
 To art's more potent sway. 
 
 And her daughters, like the pillars 
 
 Round a stately palace set; 
 Uphold in their proportion 
 
 The fair fabric of the State; 
 
22 
 
 While learning and intelligence 
 
 Their equal blessing give; 
 To the poorest and the richest 
 
 Who the blessing will receive. 
 
 And in this splendid galaxy 
 
 No stars shine forth so bright 
 As glorious New England 
 
 Grand in her power, and might; 
 
 And in this constellation 
 
 Whose bright rays upon us fall; 
 
 Beams forth our own Green Mountain State 
 The brightest star of all. 
 
 Hail ! glorious old Green Mountains 
 
 Of our own dear Father land ; 
 To us your forms are precious as 
 
 Nevada's golden land. 
 
 Rest there in solemn grandeur, 
 
 And the elements defy ; 
 While you lift your cloud-capped summits 
 
 To the vault of azure sky. 
 
 Long may your lovely valleys 
 
 The abode of virtue be ; 
 And the peaceful, happy dwelling 
 
 Of the brave, the good, the free. 
 
 Tell me, ye sons and daughters 
 Of our own Green Mountain State ; 
 
23 
 
 Whence comes this mighty wealth of all 
 That makes a nation great ? 
 
 This general intelligence 
 
 Diffused so far and wide ; 
 This pouring forth of knowledge 
 
 Like a mighty rushing tide? 
 
 Where lies the hidden secret of 
 Our nation's wealth and power? 
 
 To what are we indebted for 
 The blessings of the hour ? 
 
 Not merely to the labors of 
 
 The faithful men of God, 
 Who, following their master, oft 
 
 A thorny path have trod. 
 
 Nor yet to those who minister 
 
 At learning's highest shrine, 
 And cause fair wisdom's brightest light 
 
 On human hearts t« shine. 
 
 In the great work these noble men 
 
 Have borne a glorious part ; 
 And built their deathless monuments 
 
 Deep in the nation's heart. 
 
 We'll not detract one particle 
 From such a well-earned fame ; 
 
 But hold in most profound respect 
 Their calling and their name. 
 
24 
 
 Yet we'll remember, that however 
 
 Great they all may be ; 
 Once, in the plain old school-house 
 
 They learned their A. B. C. 
 
 Standing by the faithful teacher, 
 
 Who quietly bore rule ; 
 And their worthy Alma Mater 
 
 Was the pleasant common school. 
 
 This is the solid corner-stone 
 
 On -which securely rest 
 Our nation's wealth and greatness 
 
 And all that makes us blest. 
 
 And as the superstructure 
 
 In its majesty shall rise ; 
 To cheer and bless the nations 
 
 While its dome shall reach the skies. 
 
 Let each of us remember, as 
 
 Its comliness we view, 
 That the teacher was the architect 
 
 And master-builder too. 
 
 I tell you fellow citizens 
 
 We owe to them to-day 
 A mighty debt of gratitude 
 
 We never can repay. 
 
 The value of their faithful toil 
 Can not be measured here ; 
 
25 
 
 But in Heaven's impartial record 
 It will gloriously appear. 
 
 And while for you they labor, 
 To them be just and true ; 
 
 For in your sphere as parents 
 There is much that you can do. 
 
 Sustain them in their labors, 
 Both by action and by word ; 
 
 And never in your presence let 
 Foul slander's tongue be heard. 
 
 Be gentle to their failings, 
 Expose them not to view ; 
 
 For failings surely they may have, 
 And faults, as well as you. 
 
 Speak words of hope and comfort 
 To cheer them on their way 
 
 And nerve them thus for duty, 
 As they toil from day to day. 
 
 And while to them your kindness 
 And good offices abound, 
 
 One little favor still we ask : 
 Don't make them hoard around. 
 
 Give them a steady pleasant home 
 While with you they may dwell 
 
 And when their work is ended, 
 Fail not to pay them well. 
 
26 
 
 "While thus you kindly labor 
 The teachers' griefs to share ; 
 
 To smooth their rugged pathway 
 And relieve their anxious care ; 
 
 The good you thus arc doing 
 
 With benevolent concern ; 
 Shall with a tenfold blessing, 
 
 To your families return. 
 
 Now cease, oh must thy humble lay, 
 
 Nor indiscreet prolong 
 To tedious and needless length 
 
 Thy unpretentious song. 
 
 We ask dear friends that you be gentle 
 
 To our youthful muse ; 
 Her faults and failings overlook. 
 
 Her errors please excuse. 
 
 She came not uninvited to 
 Her short, and pleasing task ; 
 
 Bear this in mind while judging her 
 And nothing more she'll ask. 
 
 With earnest purpose she has wrought 
 
 Your mandate to fill til 1, 
 And executes the welcome task 
 
 With right sincere good will. 
 
 And now my fellow citizens, 
 In finishing a song 
 
Which I am apprehensive is 
 Already quite too long ; 
 
 Accept it, I entreat you ; 
 
 As the offering of a friend ; 
 And may Heaven's choicest blessings 
 
 All your future days attend. 
 
 To the Rechabites. 
 
 And friends of temperance assembled in convention at Burlington, 
 January, 1849. 
 
 Friends of our country with greeting sincere, 
 Cheered by your presence we welcome you here ; 
 
 True to the cause ye have nobly upheld ; 
 Ye come, by regard for your country impelled. 
 
 Lovers of Temperance, friends of your race, 
 Deeply lamenting our country's disgrace ; 
 
 Well have ye toiled to wipe out the foul stain, 
 Well have ye battled the victory to gain. 
 
 Friends of Humanity, faithful and true, 
 
 Heroes of Temperance our hearts are with you ; 
 
 Freedom our watch ward, from Alcohol's chain ; 
 Death to the fiend who his millions has slain. 
 
28 
 
 Patriots who seek not for honor, or fame ; 
 
 Having a nobler, a loftier aim ; 
 Push on your conquests, we bid you God speed ; 
 
 Ye have His blessing no other ye need. 
 
 Agents of Heaven the lost to reclaim ; 
 
 Blessed by their families this is your fame, 
 Where is the glory so lasting and sure? 
 
 Where is the fame that like this shall endure? 
 
 Leave not the doctrines for which ye contend ; 
 
 Leave not the faith ye have sworn to defend ; 
 Leave not the cause ye have vowed to maintain ; 
 
 Victory has crowned and shall crown you again. 
 
 To My Mother. 
 
 My mother, if thy spirit hovers near, 
 
 Look (in the thoughts thy son lias written here 
 
 And Oh believe them true. I seek for truth. 
 
 I think of all thy sufferings, dear mother, 
 
 Thy faithful life to all thy children given ; 
 
 Thy toils, thy cares, thy watchfulness for them. 
 
 My heart is filled with agony and grief. 
 
 But " It is finished." Yes, thy toil is o'er ; . 
 
 Thy sufferings are past, thy labor ceased, 
 
 And Death is swallowed up in victory. 
 
29 
 
 Ah yes, thy spirit to the Saviour's gone, 
 And may my spirit thither follow thee. 
 Grant it, my Saviour, to a worm like me. 
 
 I know that, ere thy spirit went to Heaven, 
 
 Thou didst forgive thy children's waywardness : 
 
 Yet 'tis a bitter thought for us to think 
 
 We ever should have caused thy heart a pang. 
 
 But thy last words of admonition kind. 
 
 Sank deep into our hearts. Never shall we 
 
 Forget them. By the kindly aid of Him 
 
 Whose mercy never has forsaken us ; 
 
 They shall lie carried out through future life. 
 
 Whate'er afflictions wait us in our walk 
 Through life's uneven way, be it our aim, 
 With Christian meekness to endure it all ; 
 And even to remember, that the Lord 
 Doth not with willingness afflict mankind. 
 
 But the chastisements of His Providence 
 
 Are all in mercy sent, and for our good. 
 
 When the fond heart, o'er-charged with worldly care, 
 
 Is bending strongly to the things of earth. 
 
 And almost ready to forget her God ; 
 
 Then comes a visitation from on High : 
 
 Plunging the sold in sorrow's deepest sea ; 
 
 Tearing the dearest idol from the heart, 
 
 And saying to the sad and stricken spirit, 
 
 " No other Gods hi fun me shalt thou have." 
 
30 
 
 Be virtue our companion, God our trust, 
 And Christ our all-in-all through earthly life ; 
 And Heaven our home, and praise our glad employ, 
 Throughout the ages of eternity. 
 
 Lines. 
 
 Lonely and desolate, weary and worn, 
 Scarce knowing whither for comfort to turn, 
 Blessed Redeemer I look unto thee, 
 Jesus, let pity reach even to me. 
 
 Crushed with the conscious enthrallment of vice,, 
 Striving in vain from that thralldom to rise, 
 Plenteous redemption still resteth with thee, 
 Jesus, let pardon reach even to me. 
 
 Cold is this heart once aglow with thy love, 
 Once thy abode, oh thou Heavenly dove ; 
 Oh that again thy blest form I may see ; 
 Jesus, let thy lore reach even to me. 
 
 Fierce is the battle with Satan and sin, 
 Foes are assailing without, and within ; 
 Conquer I must, for 'tis death if I f}ee, 
 Jesus, let power reach even to me. 
 
31 
 
 Deep are the shadows that darken my skies,. 
 Hiding the glory of Christ from my eyes ; 
 Longeth my spirit His glory to see, 
 Jesus, let thy light reach even to me. 
 
 Striving to walk in the Heavenly way, 
 That shineth still more to the radiant day ; 
 Thine, oh my Saviour, at last may I be ; 
 Jesus, let glory reach even to me. 
 
 Once in a Lifetime. 
 
 Once in a lifetime! what speechless deep 
 
 Of meaning is hid in that ominous wind '.' 
 Once in a lifetime! then seize and keep 
 
 The tones of that voice to be no more heard; 
 Friend meets friend on life's busy sea, 
 And they part to meet in eternity. 
 
 Once in a lifetime we turn away 
 
 From the anxious cares of this busy life, 
 To converse for an hour, or to spend a day, 
 
 With a friend, who, engaged in the world's great strife. 
 Has risen in life by his voice and pen 
 To mold the hearts, and the lives of men. 
 
32 
 
 Once in a lifetime, how brief the hour 
 
 In which we may speak of the dreamy past! 
 And hurried on by an unseen power, 
 The parting moment has come at last; 
 
 And the nervous grasp, and the gushing tear 
 Tell a tale never whispered to mortal ear. 
 
 Once in a lifetime, and can it be 
 
 Oh friend, of the kind and the loving heart 
 That thy face no more we shall ever sec ? 
 That we meet but once, and forever part? 
 Be it even so, if the Father wills, 
 And if this counsel He thus fulfills. 
 
 Once in a lifetime a still small voice 
 
 Speaks to the faithful, "Oh spirit, conic. 
 "And linger not, but in him rejoice, 
 
 "Who calls thee away to thy Heavenly home." 
 No terror has death if through such a strait 
 We enter in at the pearly gate. 
 
33 
 The Bells of Burlington. 
 
 We are told of the chimes of Zurich and the bell that peals the 
 
 hour 
 O'er the gardens and orchards of Brussella Erom lofty St. 
 
 Michael's tower. 
 We have heard of the bells of Shandon, far back in her days of 
 
 prime ; 
 And the bells of Lynn have been lauded in tender and grace- 
 ful rhyme ; 
 And there are the golden and iron bells with their music of joy 
 
 and woe, 
 And their wonderful rhyming and chiming by the masterful 
 
 hand of Poe. 
 But go where we may, we can never hear chords of a finer tone, 
 Than those that are borne on the breezes, from the sweet bells 
 
 of Burlington. 
 How often we listen with rapture, as the melody rises and 
 
 falls, 
 Borne forth on the evening zephyrs from the lovely chimes of 
 
 St. Paul's: 
 And perchance we think, as we listen, in the peace of our home 
 
 abode; 
 Of the noble and generous giver, whose spirit now rests with 
 
 God. 
 And when on the morn of the Sabbath, their voices seem all to 
 
 combine; 
 There pours forth melodious music, and a harmony almost 
 
 divine. 
 
34 
 
 We are told that the bells of some churches deliver their nar- 
 row creeds, 
 And tell of a sure panacea for the sorest < if human needs ; 
 That some, in a soft soprano are saying "do well, do well," 
 And some, in a high, shrill tenor are crying "No hell, no hell." 
 But another and better evangel rings out from our own sweet 
 
 bells; 
 Of concord, and peace and union, their melody often tells. 
 It swells on the morning breezes, it floats on the evening air ; 
 It calls us to praise and worship, it calls to the house of 
 
 prayer. ' 
 It tells of the love of Jesus as wide as the mighty sea, 
 And His all-sufficient atonement wrought out for humanity ; 
 Of the far off land of beauty, and glory, and peace, and rest, 
 Where the smile of the world's Redeemer is the spirit's eternal 
 
 feast. 
 This is the creed they publish, the story their music tells, 
 The bells of my native city, the beautiful Burlington bells. 
 
 To My Young Friends Everywhere. 
 
 Life seems like a glad summer morning, 
 Its pleasures are tempting and fair, 
 
 And the flowers life's pathway adorning, 
 Wave bright in the soft balmy air. 
 
35 
 
 Sweet visions of hope are before you, 
 
 Of honor and fame to be won; 
 And the bright bow of promise is o'er you, 
 
 To cheer you and beckon you on. 
 
 There cometh a soft voice of warning, 
 In the midst of these visions so fair; 
 
 Though radiant with hope be the morning, 
 The night may be black with despair; 
 
 And the life, which had opened with gladness, 
 As bright as the dawn, and as gay; 
 
 May darken with sorrow and sadness, 
 Long, long ere the close of its day. 
 
 Be wise, my young friends, in your choosing, 
 Choose God for your portion and guide; 
 
 And the tempter's allurements refusing, 
 Keep close to the dear Saviour's side. 
 
 Thus walking in faith, and in duty, 
 The years shall roll sweetly away; 
 
 And bright with the radiance of beauty 
 Shall dawn Heaven's glorious day. 
 
36 
 The Moloch of Slavery. 
 
 When from Egypt's cruel bondage 
 
 Israel was safely led ; 
 And the manna fell from Heaven, 
 
 Giving them their daily bread : 
 
 When from Sinai's rugged summit, 
 Terrible with smoke and flame ; 
 
 Spoke a voice of tenfold thunder, 
 Righteous precepts to proclaim : 
 
 First among those sacred precepts, 
 This command the Eternal gave 
 
 To His loved and chosen people ; 
 " Other Gods thou shaltnot have." 
 
 When the Heathen Gods were worshiped 
 
 Under every shady tree; 
 By a people God had chosen, 
 
 Chosen them His own to be : 
 
 When on every lofty hill top 
 
 Incense rose, and victims bled, 
 And upon polluted altars 
 
 Human blood was freely shed : 
 
 First among those bloody idols, 
 
 Bloodier far than all before ; 
 .Stood the grim, and cruel Moloch, 
 
 Smeared, and drenched, with human gore. 
 
37 
 
 There's a tierce and bloody idol 
 
 In this temple of the free ; 
 Feasting on his bleeding victims, 
 
 In the name of Liberty. 
 
 Hear their groans, ye sons of freedom, 
 See their sorrows, day by day ; 
 
 Rouse ye in your might, and crush him 
 Put his fiendish rights away. 
 
 Fear ye not, although his prophets 
 In the Senate you may see ; 
 
 And though his high priest be seated 
 Where the President should be. 
 
 The Wanderer's Thoughts of Home. 
 
 I sit by the shore of the lake, Mary, 
 In the shade of the cedar tree; 
 
 At my feet its waters softly break, 
 As I sit and think of thee. 
 
 I think of our happy home, Mary; 
 
 And the dear one I left with thee; 
 And wait for the time to hasten on, 
 
 When both I again shall see. 
 
38 
 
 I see its smile of joy, Mary, 
 
 As it plays with its mother's hair; 
 As it frolics in glee on its mother's knee, 
 
 A stranger to grief, and care. 
 
 I see thy look of hope, Mary; 
 
 Beaming out from thy gentle eye; 
 That the child of thy prayers and thy constant cares, 
 
 May be guarded by power from on high. 
 
 I think of the days gone by, Mary; 
 
 When thou wast so young and free; 
 When thine eye was bright, and thy step was light, 
 
 As the bird on the forest tree. 
 
 And thou hast not yet grown old, Mary; 
 
 For thy heart is joyous still; 
 And thy step so light, and thine eye so bright, 
 
 To my heart sends a gladsome thrill. 
 
 And thou lovest me yet as once, Mary ; 
 
 When my young heart first was thine; 
 Thy attentions kind, which my heart entwined, 
 
 I trust shall be ever mine. 
 
 Let Hope be our beacon star, Mary; 
 
 And Faith be as strong as now; 
 While the little one that to Heaven has gone, 
 
 Heals doubly, affection's vow. 
 
39 
 To Mr. and Mrs. S. B. 
 
 Through sunshine and shadows, 
 Through smiles and through tears, 
 Together you've traveled 
 These twenty long years. 
 
 Since standing together, 
 With hand clasping hand ; 
 United together 
 In wedlock's strong band; 
 
 With hearts light, and joyous. 
 And strong for the strife, 
 You launched on life's ocean. 
 As husband and wife. 
 
 And over that ocean 
 You bravely have sailed, 
 With a faith and a courage 
 That never have failed. 
 
 Whatever was wrong, 
 You opposed with your might, 
 And strongly defended 
 Whatever was right. 
 
 You have watched with the sick, 
 You have helped the distressed, 
 You have lashed the oppressor 
 And soothed the oppressed. 
 
40 
 
 And as you look back 
 You can truthfully say, 
 " The poor and the needy 
 We turned not away." 
 
 Thrice 1 nippy the heart 
 That with sympathy glows ; 
 Who feels others sorrows, 
 And shares in their woes ; 
 
 To the wants of the poor 
 Turns a listening ear; 
 And wipes from the cheek 
 Of the orphan a tear. 
 
 Sail on o'er life's ocean, 
 As brave as of yore ; 
 With favoring breezes 
 Steer straight for the shore r 
 
 Where the trials of life 
 Shall triumphantly close ; 
 And the spirit shall enter 
 Eternal repose. 
 
 But e're I have finished, 
 Permit me to say, . 
 Your friends wish you many 
 Returns of this dav. 
 
41 
 
 The Old Home. 
 
 The old house still stands in the meadow, 
 
 And the grass lias grown close to the door, 
 And the plaster has dropped from the ceiling 
 And lies on the old pine floor. 
 
 The barn and the wood-shed are missing, 
 They were all torn away lung ago; 
 
 And the stalls fur the cows and the oxen 
 For many long years have lain low. 
 
 You remember the well-cnrb, and bucket, 
 And the old crank that wound up the chain; 
 
 Well, time has destroyed them together. 
 Not one of their fragments remain. 
 
 The mouth of the well is planked over, 
 But how many times I would seem 
 
 To lie quaffing its bright cooling waters. 
 And awaking, would find it a dream. 
 
 The currant-bush row in the garden, 
 
 And the red plum-tree, out on the green, 
 
 And the apple-trees down in the meadow, 
 Not one of them now can be seen. 
 
42 
 
 But the old house stands rustic, and silent, 
 
 Like a sentinel solemn, and lone, 
 And the clover grows green in the mead< >\v ; 
 
 But everything else is gone. 
 
 Is gone, did I say? not entirely, 
 For the little brook still ripples by, 
 
 And the bobolink sings just as sweetly 
 The notes of his old melody. 
 
 And under the bank by the wayside 
 The spring, where we oft used to play, 
 
 Gushing out a perennial fountain, 
 Runs as crystal as ever, to-day. 
 
 And the pine woods where we gathered berries 
 
 Stand just as they used to before, 
 Where our childish feet once loved to wander, 
 
 Far back in the sweet days of yore. 
 
 You know that we once had a brother, 
 And the childish advantage I took, 
 
 When, as he lay watching the minnows, 
 I tumbled him into the brook. 
 
 'Twas well that dear mother was watching, 
 And thus his young life she preserved, 
 
 But my back felt a tingling sensation; 
 It surely was richly reserved. 
 
43 
 
 And don't you remember the bed-room 
 Where stook the dear old trundle-bed; 
 
 The place where our dear loving mother 
 Oft pillowed her poor aching head ? 
 
 And that's where she put us in sickness, 
 And watched us by night and by day; 
 
 Thus nursing us back from our weakness, 
 In her loving and motherly way. 
 
 I've a nail from that dear bed-room window ; 
 
 I saw it when once passing by, 
 And drew it from out the old easement; 
 
 I shall keep it, I think, till I die. 
 
 The Baltic Street Mission. 
 
 (Brooklyn, N. Y.) 
 
 Hail the Monday evening meeting 
 Hail the precious hour of prayer ! 
 Hail the glad and joyful greeting 
 Of the saints who gather there. 
 
44 
 
 There the songs of worship blended 
 With the weary mourners' sigh ; 
 There the fervent prayer ascended 
 To the mighty One on high. 
 
 There the Temperance gospel preaching, 
 Ever brought a joyful sound 
 To the sinner's spirit reaching; 
 There the Lord was sought and found. 
 
 There the poor inebriate kneeling, 
 With a crushing weight of sin, 
 Rose again with conscious feeling 
 Of a soxd renewed within. 
 
 Precious memories ! How they gather 
 Round the place so often blest 
 By the Loving Heavenly Father, 
 Bringing peace, and joy, and rest. 
 
 Precious place ! where e'er I wander 
 ( >ver life's tempestuous sea ; 
 When upon the past I ponder, 
 In my thoughts I turn to thee. 
 
45 
 
 To Rev. James Caughey. 
 
 Best ! bravest of heroes, 
 Thy work is well done ; 
 And calm, and serene 
 Be thy life's setting sun ; 
 Thy warfare is over ; 
 Thy labor is blest ; 
 And God doth accept it. 
 And bids thee bo rest. 
 
 Eight well hast thou fought 
 In the van of the host ; 
 
 Tin' I'ni'e st in duty's 
 
 And danger's proud post ; 
 Aye, rugged and thorny 
 The path thou hast trod ; 
 Thou man of the people, 
 Thou servant of ( rod. 
 
 Yes, long hast thou battled 
 
 With right royal will ; 
 With courage undaunted 
 And consummate skill ; 
 Against all the foes 
 Both of God and of man ; 
 And victory has crowned thee 
 Again and again. 
 
46 
 
 It was not in battle 
 Where thousands are slain ; 
 And blood flowed in torrents 
 And reddened the plain ; 
 Where man meets his fellow 
 In deadliest strife ; 
 While gushes encrimsoned, 
 The tide of his life. 
 
 Thou never didst wrestle 
 Against flesh and blood ; 
 But Rulers of darkness, 
 The foes of our God ; 
 Against wicked spirits 
 Thou wagedst thy war ; 
 The sound of thy trumpet 
 They knew from afar. 
 
 Thy weapons were mighty, 
 Thou wieldedst them well ; 
 And great was the host 
 Of the sinners that fell ; 
 Full sixty-five thousand 
 Have written their names, 
 All slain by the sword 
 Of the Lord, and of James. 
 
 The past is secure, 
 
 And the future is bright ; 
 
 And life's quiet evening 
 
47 
 
 Is rosy with light ; 
 And "peace like a river"* 
 O'er shadows the soul 
 Which sweetly is kept 
 By its blessed control. 
 
 Thus rest faithful spirit 
 Secure in the love 
 Of Him whom we see not, 
 Yet liveth above ; 
 And patiently wait 
 Till he speaketh the word 
 Then "Enter thou in 
 To the joy of thy Lord." 
 
 Is Mother There? 
 
 He stood where the people were landing, 
 And gazed at the fast moving throng ; 
 And scanned every visage and feature 
 Of the crowd as it moved along. 
 
 They had come from the land of his childhood, 
 Where many and many a time, 
 He had gathered the flowers in the wildwood, 
 Far off in that bright Northern clime. 
 *One of his favorite sayings. 
 
4:8 
 
 Would they bring him good news of bhe dear ones 
 Still left on that far distant shore? 
 Would they tell of his own darling mother 
 Would he ever look on her more? 
 
 And what of his dear little sister 
 Who loved him so long and so well ? 
 Or the father who toiled for his welfare ? 
 Had they any message to tell? 
 
 At length he beholds an acquaintance, 
 
 No longer could he now forbear ; 
 But lifting his voice in the tumult. 
 He cries out, is mother there ? 
 
 'Tis the language of filial affection, 
 'Tis the cry of a dear loving son, 
 'Tis Nature asserting her kingdom, 
 'Tis a victory she has won. 
 
 The passengers all have been landed, 
 And he turns away in despair ; 
 With weary and sorrowful spirit, 
 For mother, alas, was not there. 
 
 But a different prospect will open. 
 And the change will arrive all too soon 
 And the scene will not be on the Hudson, 
 And the time neither morning nor noon. 
 
49 
 
 But life's stream will then be passed over 
 And mother will patiently wait 
 For her son, in that beautiful city, 
 And the landing will be at the gate. 
 
 No need of his asking for mother. 
 When nearing that city so fair ; 
 No need of his making inquiry. 
 For mother will surely be there. 
 
 He watched at the pier for his mother, 
 And waited till long after seven : 
 But mother with deathless affection 
 Will watch for her children in Heaven. 
 
 We Parted in Silence. 
 
 We parted in sadness t leep to be spoke, 
 
 In the shade of those weeping willows ; 
 
 While soft on the pebbly shore gently broke 
 The white-crested ocean billows. 
 
 We parted in silence, and well I knew 
 That your dear, loving heart was aching ; 
 
 And the tears that you tried to conceal from view 
 From their fountains were swiftly breaking. 
 
50 
 
 We parted in silence, you turned away, 
 While the tears that were past controlling, 
 
 Down your agonized visage were coursing their way 
 And the bell of the steamer was tolling. 
 
 We parted, but in the unspoken grief 
 That our ties for a time we must sever, 
 
 There was one bright thought gave us sweet relief 
 That our parting was not forever. 
 
 To the Christian Advocate. 
 
 Oh grand old sheet dispensing benedictions, 
 
 And scattering blessings broadcast o'er the land; 
 Destroying errors, deep'ning right convictions, 
 Wielding the sword of truth with trenchant hand; 
 Thy power is felt by wicked men and traitors, 
 And they alone are thy relentless haters. 
 
 Long hast thou battled with right royal will, 
 
 Against the enemies of God and man; 
 In this thy grandest year be grander still, 
 
 And on the charging hosts lead thou the van. 
 The banner of the cross uplifted high, 
 And "Jesus and His love" the battle cry. 
 
51 
 
 Oh Buckley, nobly hast thou borne the lance; 
 And, like a gallant knight, hast battled well 
 With armored foes of Christ, and who by chance 
 Have come within thy reach. They fought, and fell- 
 Smite on, stay not thy lusty blows, oh Editor, 
 E'en now thou art to all the world a creditor. 
 
 When years have rolled into the dark unknown, 
 
 And poets with ephemeral contributions 
 By editors shall lie, their graves moss-grown, 
 Or levelled by Time's ceaseless revolutions; 
 
 Still may the Christian Press a mighty agent stand, 
 Wielding its power for good through our beloved land. 
 
 Brightness Beyond. 
 
 Still the storm comes sweeping, sweeping, 
 
 ( her hill and dale ; 
 Still the clouds their watch are keeping, 
 
 Fraught with sleet and hail ; 
 
 Still the snow is drifting lightly 
 
 Into every form ; 
 But the sun is shining brightly 
 
 Just above the storm. 
 
52 
 
 What though dark the scene and dreary? 
 
 It will soon be gone ; 
 "What though sad the heart, and weary? 
 
 Spring is coming on. 
 
 Nature with her silent forces 
 Works through all the hours ; 
 
 Bringing, in their proper courses. 
 Leaves, and birds, and flowers. 
 
 Brighter days are just before us, 
 
 I >ays of glad delight ; 
 With the blue sky arching o'er us, 
 
 Full of rosy light. 
 
 Then these days of sad repining 
 
 Will be all forgol : 
 When the sun was brightly shining 
 
 Though we saw it not. 
 
 Thus the soul is oft beclouded 
 
 By uncertain fears ; 
 And by anxious doubts enshrouded 
 
 In this vale of tears. 
 
 If we turn, with humble feeling, 
 
 To the hills of peace : 
 We shall then behold the healing 
 
 Sun of Righteousness. 
 
53 
 
 Let us then, without repining, 
 
 Dwell upon the thought 
 That the sun is ever shining ; 
 
 Though we sec it not. 
 
 Faint Not. 
 
 Be noi weary in well-doing, 
 Ye who labor, ye who pray; 
 
 Faithfully your task pursuing, 
 Do the duties of to-day. 
 
 Be not weary, work is glory, 
 ( rod appoints to each a place, 
 
 In His mighty laboratory, 
 As co-workers with His grace. 
 
 Everywhere is God in motion, 
 Working through the countless years, 
 
 Resl less as the mighty Ocean, 
 Silent as the distant spheres. 
 
 Yet this great unseen Creator, 
 High and mighty though He be, 
 
 Has a work for every creature, 
 
 Yes, the "Lord has need of thee." 
 
54 
 
 T3e not weary, there's a treasure 
 
 For the faithful, God shall keep; 
 'Tis eternal life, and pleasure, 
 If we faint Dot, we shall reap. 
 
 For the wise there's life, and beauty. 
 
 For the foolish there's a rod; 
 Hasten, then, in paths of duty. 
 
 Frustoratt not the grace of God. 
 
 To W. 
 
 Full twenty-five eventful years 
 Of grief and gladness, joy and sorrow , 
 
 You've labored on, 'mid hopes and fears. 
 Still looking for a bright to-morrow. 
 
 'Tis conic at last, the auspicious time, 
 Freighted with blessings rich and stable, 
 
 The pleasant home, the "fruitful vine." 
 The '"olive plants" around the table. 
 
 The man's a prince who falters not, 
 But wins success by high endeavor ; 
 
 And though his name may be forgot. 
 His deeds shall live and shine forever. 
 
55 
 
 Lines Inspired by a Disgraceful Scene 
 
 In the United States Senate. 
 
 ( icnius of Liberty, 
 
 Cover thy face ! 
 Hide from thy vision 
 
 The nation's disgrace ! 
 Senators drunken, 
 
 In Liberty's home ; 
 Hold Bacchanal revels, 
 
 Beneath thy proud dome. 
 
 Where is the eloquence 
 
 Sparkling and bright, 
 Battling the wrong, 
 
 And defending the right ? 
 Where are the wise men, 
 
 The good and the great, 
 That saved us in peril, 
 
 And guided the State ? 
 
 Where is the dignity 
 Once the proud boast 
 
 Of our National council, 
 A glorious host 
 
 •Of men once distinguished 
 
56 
 
 For honor and fame ? 
 
 Vanished ! and nothing 
 
 Is left but, the name. 
 
 Patriots, arouse ! 
 
 'Tis your country that calls, 
 And drive drunkards out 
 
 From our National Halls ! 
 Stamp them with infamy, 
 
 Cover their name 
 With burning contempt, 
 
 And with bitterest shame. 
 
 Oh Christian, ;i\vake ! 
 
 For the danger is great ; 
 It hangs o'er the Nation, 
 
 It hangs o'er the State ; 
 Then make supplication, 
 
 And wrestle with God, 
 Or the sun of our freedom 
 
 Soon setteth in blood. 
 
57 
 
 To Mr. and Mrs. E. W. 
 
 With thanks for many favors past, 
 Accept, dear friends, this humble token. 
 
 Of love that will forever last, 
 
 Of friendship that cannot ho broken. 
 
 There is no work by priest or sage, 
 So grand, so precious or so holy, 
 
 As that in which you oft engage, 
 To brighten life among the lowly. 
 
 These noble acts that so abound. 
 
 Are touching God's great heart of love ; 
 
 And in I lie ages, will be found 
 Recorded in the Court above. 
 
 Long may you live to bless mankind 
 
 With works of love, and mercy blending 
 
 And in the great Hereafter, find 
 Eternal peace, and life unending. 
 
58 
 
 Good News. 
 
 Listen, my boy, I have something to say; 
 Good news have come to my ears to-day; 
 T have found a treasure not silver nor gilt; 
 I am richer than Astor, or Yanderbilt. 
 
 Good news, good news, would you like to know 
 The happy tidings that cheer me so ? 
 For the sorrows of life I have little care; 
 I am richer to-day than a millionaire. 
 
 'Tis not the gold of the Western mines 
 
 Nor the wealth that deep in the ocean shines, 
 
 Nor the pearls that are found in the glittering streams, 
 
 On the shore of some far-off land of dreams. 
 
 'Tis not the diamond whose brilliant ray ' 
 Flashes the light of the orb of day; 
 'Tis richer to me than the purest gem 
 That glows in the monarch's diadem. 
 
 Do tell me Father what cheers you so, 
 Just what it is, for I want to know; 
 The secret my son I confide to you: 
 I have found that you dare to be right, and true. 
 
59 
 
 Minnehaha. 
 
 There is a stream far in the West, 
 
 A pure, and bright, and sparkling fountain; 
 Forming a lake, which, when at rest, 
 
 Reflects the overhanging mountain; 
 From whose cool grotto pours a stream, 
 
 Where many a dusky Indian daughter, 
 Came oft to lave, and oft to dream ; 
 
 And named the streamlet Laughing Water. 
 
 There is a voice we love to hear, 
 
 Ring out upon the morning breezes, 
 A voice so full of gladsome cheer 
 
 That even its echo always pleases; 
 ( rushing it comes, so full, so clear 
 
 And rippling like the laughing water 
 That when it falls upon the ear 
 
 We alwavs know 'tis Minnie's halia. 
 
60 
 
 To D. 
 
 Sweet be thy sleep, dear child, 
 
 Thy tribulation's past, 
 A well-earned rest awaits thee now, 
 
 Thy work is done at last. 
 
 Sweet be thy rest, dear child, 
 While angels guard thy bed, 
 
 Thy slumbers sweet are not disturbed 
 By grief, remorse, or dread. 
 
 Sweet be thy sleep, dear child, 
 Through all the livelong night, 
 
 Till thou awake refreshed and glad 
 To greet the morning light. 
 
61 
 An Incident in B, 
 
 A minister sat at his desk one day 
 
 Where he had sat often before; 
 For he was preparing a grand essay, 
 To read to Ins hearers the very next day, 
 Concerning the true and the living way, 
 
 That would lead them to Heaven's door. 
 
 He wandered forth from his coo] retreat, 
 
 'Thus a beautiful morning in May; 
 And he took his way through the crowded street, 
 When' the constant humming of busy feet, 
 Arose, as he passed, his ears to greet. 
 Then in distance died away. 
 
 A little girl sat in that crowded street. 
 
 No father nor mother had she; 
 Her dress was scanty, and hare her feet; 
 And day after day she had naught to eat; 
 Kind words came seldom her heart to greet, 
 
 And her grief was sad to see. 
 
 The preacher came down on the self-same side, 
 
 Revolving his grand essay; 
 Did he stop where the little girl sat and cried? 
 Ah no, not hi', he had too much pride, 
 And no spare moments had he. beside, 
 
 On a poor child to throw away. 
 
62 
 
 But soon, as he walked with stately stride, 
 
 A little black puppy came by; 
 He stopped, and called him up to his side, 
 Then patted his head with a childish pride; 
 And stroked his ebony coat beside, 
 
 With juvenile ecstasy. 
 
 A humble school teacher observed the deed, 
 
 And he thought of the holy command, 
 The naked to clothe, and the hungry feed, 
 The needy to help in their time of need, 
 And to these precepts he took good heed, 
 With a willing heart and hand. 
 
 He went to this poor, neglected child, 
 
 As she sat by the way and cried; 
 Her wants he supplied, and in accents mild, 
 Spoke words of hope, and she sweetly smiled, 
 And thus her sorrows he soon beguiled, , 
 
 And her tears of grief were dried. 
 
 Oh ye whose hearts, grown hard and cold, 
 
 To selfish ambition are given; 
 Though you from the needy, and poor, withhold 
 Your treasure! I riches, or hoarded gold, 
 Remember, "Their angels always behold 
 
 The face of Our Father in Heaven." 
 
63 
 
 To Eugenie "W. 
 
 They say you're a child of the muses, 
 That poetry flows from your pen, 
 
 Whose sweetness and beauty diffuses 
 A joy to the children of men. 
 
 'Tis a gift that so seldom is given, 
 A favor that comes from above ; 
 
 A chain that unites us to Heaven, 
 A draught from the fountain of love. 
 
 Then drink from the stream that is Mowing 
 From a fountain so holy and pure ; 
 
 Drink deep, for the draught is bestowing 
 A gift that 'tis bliss to secure. 
 
 And since you perceive 'tis the pleasure 
 Of Heaven such a gift to impart ; 
 
 Then accept of the God-given treasure, 
 And enshrine it with joy in your heart. 
 
 And when the Divine inspiration 
 Through your being comes floating along ; 
 
 Then awaken your harp's intonation, 
 For the world is awaiting your song. 
 
64 
 
 The Spirit of Our Fathers. 
 
 | Read before the M. E. Society, Burlington, Vt., Oct. 2ist, rJ 
 
 () muse of the ages thou mighty and strong, 
 Thy servant inspire with the spirit of sung ; 
 ]5e thou to the past like the coming of dawn. 
 And shed forth thy light on the days that are none. 
 
 The days of our fathers, what trials, what strife, 
 What praying and watching to live a pure lite ; 
 But firmly and stoutly they stood for the right, 
 With the world and the flesh and the devil to fight. 
 
 The Calvinists then had pre-empted the land, 
 And left not a place for a Methodist to stand ; 
 They were hooted and sneered at, oh, sad is the tale, 
 And some of their ministers rode on a rail. 
 
 But most of their foes had to say even then, 
 "Those Methodist shouters are good honest men ;" 
 To their home and their country they ever were true, 
 And always they rendered to each man his due. 
 
 They labored and prayed and they shouted and sang, 
 'Till the arches of Heaven with their melody rang ; 
 On the promise of Christ, firmly planted they stood, 
 And thus armed, overcame evil with good. 
 
65 
 
 They were faithful to church, they were early to rise, 
 They labored with sinners while tears filled their eyes ; 
 They were known by their dress, both the women and men, 
 And they helped their good pastor by saying "Amen." 
 
 They trusted in God with an unshaken faith 
 That lifted their hearts above all fear of death ; 
 And our ministers always this story could tell 
 < >f the faithful departed — " our people die well." 
 
 The appearance of evil they'd always resist. 
 
 They had not the least knowledge of poker or whist ; 
 
 To parties of pleasure they never would go, 
 
 Nor learned they to "trip the light fantastic toe." 
 
 From a small class of seven, in eighteen fifteen, 
 The Burlington church, as can plainly be seen, 
 (Although we may say it is still in its youth, ) 
 Has become a great power for virtue and truth. 
 
 And as we look back o'er the days that are past. 
 And then to the church that is growing so fast, 
 Let us never forget of the heroes to tell 
 Who laid the foundations so strong and so well. 
 
 Of Warner and Stewart, who led the first class, 
 
 Of Haynes, Lund and Truman, how rapid they pass ; 
 
 Of Caughey and Little, of Osbon and < Jray, 
 
 And a host who are lying in the grave-yard to-day. 
 
66 
 
 We reverence their memory, we honor their name, 
 And though not enrolled in the records of fame, 
 Their record most surely is written on high, 
 And their names and their memory never can die. 
 
 Lake Champlain. 
 
 When the sun shone forth on Creation's morn 
 
 And smiled on a world that was newly born, 
 
 AVhen darkness was lifted from earth's fair face 
 
 Revealing to angels her matchless grace, 
 
 When the stars of morning in chorus sang 
 
 And Heaven's high arches with music rang, 
 
 As the sons of God the fair earth beheld . 
 
 And their joyous shouting the chorus swelled, 
 
 Li >< >king out on the gl< tries of sea and land 
 
 As it issued forth from the Maker's hand — 
 
 No lovelier spot did the earth contain 
 
 Than the grandand the beautiful Lake Champlain. 
 
 Oh bright, limpid waters, of crystal sheen, 
 Like a picture set in a frame of green. 
 Beneath thy dark bosom the navies lie 
 Whose thunders once echoed from earth to sky ; 
 
67 
 
 But when the sweet angel of rest and peace 
 His golden wand lifting bade war to cease. 
 The engines of battle, at his behest, 
 Far under thy waters were laid to rest. 
 
 The sentinel mountains around thee stand, 
 As if to protect thee from hostile hand ; 
 With emeralds dotted thy bosom lies. 
 Reflecting the tints of the summer skies; 
 The breezes have kissed thee, the Eastern sun 
 Salutes thy fair form when the day'.- begun; 
 The heavens look down with serenest smiles 
 On thy sunlit hays and thy charming isles. 
 
 And when in the West the declining sun 
 Proclaims that his circuit is almost run. 
 No pen can describe in a fitting strain 
 The glorious sunsets on Lake Champlain. 
 
68 
 
 Read at the Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary 
 
 Of the Author"s Marriage. 
 
 Beloved friends, to us sodear, 
 
 With us life's weary pathway treading;, 
 We thank you for yum- presence here, 
 
 To celebrate our Golden Wedding. 
 
 We're grateful thai you thus have come 
 
 Without parade or ostentation; 
 Frommany a brighl and pleasant home, 
 
 To bring us your congratulation. 
 
 We thank you for this friendly call, 
 This glad, though quite informal meeting; 
 
 Accept, dear neighbors, one and all, 
 
 Our thanks for such a kindly greeting. • 
 
 This evening hour will ever be 
 Whal e'er our lot, or our vocation; 
 
 A bright and pleasant memory, 
 While we continue life's probation. 
 
 We've walked together fifty years. 
 
 Through cloud and sunshine, joy and sorrow- 
 Through light and shadows, smiles and tears. 
 
 Still trusting for a glad to-morrow. 
 
69 
 
 'Tis come ai last, tins morning's sun, 
 Still traveling on His daily mission; 
 
 Brings us to-day an era done. 
 An era closed with glad fruit ion. 
 
 Our well beloved Pastor's here, 
 
 Whose glowing speech contains no Fid ion 
 I le'll give us many words of cheer 
 
 'Ere he pronounce the Benediction. 
 
 And here is "I ncle Ira," too, 
 
 Who long has sailed Life's stormy ocean ; 
 An honest man, a neighbor t n\(\ 
 
 And firm, amid the world's commotion. 
 
 Here's Huntington, and Lang and Howe, 
 And Page, and Howard, all g I talkers; 
 
 And neither last, nor least of all. 
 A glorious company of Walkers. 
 
 With Thanks for < rod's protect ing power 
 Let us now banish care and sadness ; 
 
 And Let this bright auspicious hour. 
 Be given up to joy and gladness. 
 
70 
 
 The Coming of the Horse Cars. 
 
 What means this strange roaring, just out <>n the street 
 This rattling and clattering and tramping of feet ; 
 This running to see, and this lend busy hum, 
 And mingling of voices? The horse cars have come. 
 
 < >h, what would our fathers and grandfathers say 
 If they could return to our city to-day? 
 
 Those men of strong muscle, those men of renown 
 Who conquered the forest and built up the town. 
 
 As'they stood on the streets they laid out long ago, 
 Where once the strong oak, and the pine used to grow, 
 We think they would say, as their hearts swelled 'with pride 
 "My children stop walking, 'tis cheaper to ride." 
 
 The thoroughbraced wagon, the lumbering chaise, 
 The ox-cart and bob-sled we used in our days, 
 The best that we knew is completely out-done; 
 The father is fairly eclipsed by the son. 
 
 < >li shade of the fathers who sleep with the dead; 
 Come back to the haunts where your feet used to tread ;• 
 For the place a strange sight to your vision reveals ; 
 Your children are riding in houses on wheels. 
 
71 
 
 Farewell to the 'bus of the Park and Van Ness ; 
 Farewell to the dime line and ten-cent express : 
 These methods of travel we've faithfully tried ; 
 Now jump on the In use cars, and all take a ride. 
 
 At a Banquet 
 
 Given by the Merchants' Association at the Van Xess House the toast "Life 
 Insurauce" was responded to as follows: 
 
 Mr. < 'hairman : 
 
 In the presence of so many gentlemen representing the 
 wealth and the business interests of our city, I may well be 
 pardoned for a little embarrassment, and what I say shall at 
 least have the merit of brevity. 
 
 If any thing on land or sea 
 
 ( an show the power of man's endurance. 
 
 And prove him a true man to be, 
 It is the work of Life Insurance. 
 
 If there's a man lives here below, 
 
 Who labors without show or pageant, 
 
 To lift the load of human woe ; 
 It is the Life Insurance agent. 
 
72 
 
 ""Tis coining to be understood, 
 
 That nothing in the state or nation 
 
 Confers more true, and lasting good, 
 Than an insurance corporation. 
 
 And every man who fairly tries 
 
 This golden plan so often stated, 
 Will find that, though he lives or dies, 
 
 A fortune he has thus created. 
 
 The country is all dotted o'er 
 
 With homes, once full of grief, and sadness, 
 Where poverty comes now no more ; 
 
 But all is comfort, peace, and gladness. 
 
 And this result has been achieved through the beneficent 
 •operation of Life Insurance. There is one feature of this great 
 work that can be well illustrated by an incident that took place 
 in this city but a short time ago. 
 
 There was a young merchant in B 
 
 Whom Rogers one day called to see, 
 
 I Ie insured his life 
 
 For his children and wife 
 
 Now his widow is rich, don't you see? 
 
 Mr. Chairman, I have done. 
 Like Holmes, with his wonderful 
 "One Hoss Shay" Logic is logic 
 That's all I say. 
 
73 
 
 Voices of Spring. 
 
 List to the song of the birds of spring 
 
 Through woodland and meadow their carrols ring . 
 
 Joyously sweet is their cheerful lay 
 
 As they pour it forth to the dawn of day 
 
 From green shady bowers their songs they sing, 
 
 List to the warbling birds of spring. 
 
 Hark tf> the swell of the balmy breeze, 
 
 As it floats through the tops of the budding trees : 
 
 As it shakes the dew from the forest tree, 
 
 And the tall grass waves like an emerald sea. 
 
 Its music bursts from each shady dell ; 
 
 Hark to the balmy breezes' swell. 
 
 ( nine to the shores of the silver lake. 
 Where the rippling surges gently break ; 
 No longer, in icy fetters bound, 
 They break on the shore with a gentle sound ; 
 Borne on by the breeze from the tropic land ; 
 Come to the blue lake's pebbly strand. 
 
 Come to the lovely forest bowers, 
 Gay with the glory of spring's first flowers ; 
 Lifting their heads in their modest bloom ; 
 Gratefully shedding their sweet perfume, 
 Tender, and graceful, are spring's bright flowers ; 
 Come to the lovely forest bowers. 
 
74 
 
 Robert Meech Walker. 
 
 Read at a Memorial Service of the Methodist Episcopal Sunday School, 
 July 26, 1896, on the death of Robert Meech Walker. 
 
 Farewell, faithful brother, a tender farewell : 
 The grief that overwhelms us our lips may not tell. 
 Thou art gone, and thy spirit has reached the blest shore, 
 In silence we weep, for we see thee no more. 
 
 Thy sufferings are over, thy labor is done : 
 Life's battle is fought and the victory is won. 
 Thy work is accepted, and honored, and blest, 
 And thou hast been gathered to Heaven's sweet rest. 
 
 In all thy long waiting no murmuring word, 
 
 No sigh of impatience has ever been heard : 
 
 But the Angel of Death, with his summons has come. 
 
 And sorrow o'ershadows a beautiful home. 
 
 As the mists of the morning roll swiftly away, 
 Dispelled by the beams of the full < >rl > of day, 
 
 Si 1. tearfully waiting, we catch the sweet word, 
 
 Saying " Blest are the dead who have died in the Lord." 
 
 We mourn thy departure and long shall we mourn 
 The bright, golden days that will never return : 
 But we, too, shall come, in Our Father's good time, 
 And our friendship renew in the Heavenly Clime. 
 
75 
 
 Oh, Robert : how lowly and pure was thy life 
 In the whirl and commotion of this world's great strife 
 Though short, was the life, of our brother and friend, 
 Still that life is long which has answered life's end. 
 
 'Mid the blossoms of summer we lay thee away. 
 In quiet to rest till the great Judgment Day; 
 And when the Archangel's loud trumpet shall sound, 
 in the firs! resurrection thy name shall be found. 
 
 We drop o'er thy grave, tears of friendship and love, 
 And rise in our thoughts to the glories above. 
 Where the saints of all ages in ecstacy meet, 
 And there thy pure spirit thy Saviour shall greet. 
 
 The zephyrs that sigh through the evergreen's shade 
 Shall sing their soft dirge o'er the grave of the dead. 
 And the beautiful waters, so near to thy tomb. 
 Shall murmur thy requiem through ages to come. 
 
76 
 
 Recollections. 
 
 There's a place in the town of Cornwall, 
 
 That will ever be dear to me : 
 Abounding in recollections 
 
 Most sweet to my memory. 
 A place to which in my thoughts I turn. 
 
 And wish I again might see : 
 For there was the home of my friend Jerome 
 
 And his beautiful family. 
 
 The meadow green, and the crystal sheen 
 
 Of the brook, as it rippled by ; 
 The forest tall, and above them all 
 
 The blue of the azure sky ; 
 The garden spot, and the strawberry plot, 
 
 And the maples before the door : 
 Such was the home of my friend Jerome 
 
 In the beautiful days of yore. 
 
 And there was one. 'twas the oldest son, 
 
 A lover of birds and flowers : 
 With diligent hand he tilled the land. 
 
 And devoted his leisure hours 
 To the tender care of the plants so fair. 
 
 And the blossoms they richly bore : 
 In the pleasant home of my friend Jerome 
 
 Far off in the days of yore. 
 
77 
 
 And there was :i girl with her teeth of pearl 
 
 And her merry and winning ways ; 
 And she played and sang till the welkin rang 
 
 In those peaceful and happy days. 
 She was young and fair, and without a care, 
 
 And the joy of the house was she ; 
 In the happy home of my friend Jerome 
 
 With parents and brothers throe. 
 
 And there was another a charming mother, 
 
 Most gentle and sweet and kind, 
 Adorned with the grace of a lovely face 
 
 And a lovelier charm of mind. 
 She was faithful and true, as the sky wasjolue, 
 
 And the strength .if that home abode ; 
 That peaceful home of my friend Jerome 
 
 But her spirit now rests with ( ..id. 
 
 The other boys with but little noise, 
 
 A re gathering golden store, 
 And carving their name on the rolls of fame 
 
 In music, and classic lore ; 
 And that girl so rare in a city fair. 
 
 Presides with a queenly grace ; 
 In her beautiful home where my friendjerome 
 
 Finds ever a welcome place. 
 
78 
 
 I. O. O. F. 
 
 The following poem was read at the "house warming" given by Green 
 Mountain Lodge, I. O. O. F. in their new hall. 
 
 I rejoice once more to meet you, 
 And in this new hall to greet you, 
 So then let me now entreat you 
 
 To accept my humble rhyme ; 
 We will banish care and sorrow, 
 Let them wait until to-morrow, 
 For no trouble should we borrow, 
 
 At this glad and joyful time. 
 
 Brighter far than the Aurora 
 We will here recount the glory, 
 And we'll tell the cheerful story, 
 
 ( >f the ( >rder we adore ; 
 And we hope that every member, 
 Will most pleasantly remember 
 This, the tenth day of September, 
 
 Eighteen Hundred Ninety-four. 
 
 Rapidly the Order's growing, 
 
 And the seed we're daily sowing, 
 And we number now our millions, 
 Though the Order's in its youth. 
 
79 
 
 Brightly waves our glorious banner, 
 Over land and over ocean, 
 And we'll shout our glad Hosanna 
 For Friendship, Love and Truth. 
 
 Odd Fellowship. 
 
 Read before Green Mountain Lodge, No. i, at its 50th Anniversary. 
 December 21st, 1894. 
 
 Oh sons of the Order that's glowing so strong 
 
 I sing at your bidding, then list to my song ; 
 
 To the praise of Odd Fellowship now will 1 sing. 
 
 And to Truth, Love and Friendship my tribute I bring. 
 
 And what is Odd Fellowship, what has it done 
 For the good of humanity under the sun? 
 What means this assemblage of good men and true? 
 To pay her the homage we think is her due. 
 
 And what of the Order that's spreading so fast? 
 And what of the field that's already so vast ? 
 And what of the work she is doing so well ? 
 Oh Muse of the Ages ! assist me to tell. 
 
80 
 
 'Tis a beautiful temple, so high docs it rise, 
 That its glorious dome reaches up to the skies, 
 Its broad, deep foundations securely we lay, 
 On the blest Rock of Ages, forever to stay. 
 
 Its high noble gateway, immortal and grand, 
 
 Upheld by three pillars, forever shall stand. 
 
 The glorious pattern was brought from above, 
 
 And we name these three pillars Truth, Friendship and Love. 
 
 We enter this temple. In front of our shrine 
 Enthroned the three beautiful graces recline. 
 Entranced with their charms we in reverence bend, 
 And Faith, Hope and Charity their blessing extend. 
 
 As the mild and genial radiance, 
 ( >f the gentle queen of night, 
 Touches up I he darkened lau<h<-nj>c 
 With its soft and lambent light, 
 So Odd Fellowship's pure meteor. 
 With its beaming rays and warm 
 Lightens up our moral landscape 
 With a softer holier charm. 
 
 'Tis the handmaid of Religion, 
 As with silent steps it goes 
 binding up the broken-hearted 
 And relieving human woes. 
 And the sorrow-stricken widow 
 
81 
 
 Wipes her tears of grief away, 
 And the orphan's heart is leaping 
 For the joy it brings to-day. 
 
 As the streams come leaping, dancing, 
 Sparkling from the mountain-side ; 
 And then winding through the meadows, 
 As they softly, sweetly glide : 
 So Odd Fellowship's pure river, 
 Flows the whole green earth around ; 
 And true joy, and peace, and blessing, 
 In its healing stream are found. 
 She's a blessed inspiration 
 To the highest, noblest deeds ; 
 And she waves her glorious banner 
 O'er all nations, tongues, and creeds. 
 
 She has watched with the sick she has helped the distressed. 
 She has lashed the oppressor and soothed the oppressed ; 
 She stands by the bedside of sickness and pain. 
 And she rescues the orphan again and again. 
 
 The blessing of him that was ready to die, 
 Whene'er she approaches ascends to the sky; 
 She labors unceasing in sunshine and rain, 
 And seeks to ennoble the children of men. 
 
 When by the cold hand of Humanity's foe, 
 Which knows no relenting, a brother's laid low ; 
 
82 
 
 She places the emblem of Love on his breast. 
 And gently, and tenderly, lays him fcorest. 
 
 < >h Blessed Odd Fellowship, long has it stood, 
 For all that is honest, and noble, and good; 
 And through coming ages still thus may it stand. 
 A light and a blessing in every land. 
 
 It is now 50 years at this present date, 
 
 Since the sovereign Grand Lodge of the Old Empire State. 
 
 Sent out a decree to six men of renown. 
 
 Full of Wildie's own spirit, to come to this town. 
 
 They came in due season, 'twas then forty-five, 
 
 The 14th of the first month, how few are alive 
 
 Who witnessed the scene, seven hours from that morn, 
 
 When Green Mountain Lodge of odd Fellows was born. 
 
 "Twas a strong, healthy child from the Aery lirst .start. 
 ( )r it never so well could have acted its part; 
 For they left it next day to the chill, biting cold, 
 And mounting their sleighs, they returned to their fold. 
 
 And the people of Burlington nursed it with care. 
 And it soon grew to maidenhood, ruddy, and fair; 
 And in time, a proud mother embraces a sun. 
 Which then in her gladness she names "Hamilton." 
 
 < >h Mother of Lodges, thy name shall be great. 
 
 Thy children are spread through the Green Mountain State; 
 
83 
 
 We come to salute thee, to bless thee, and now 
 We place a fair chaplet of flowers on thy brow. 
 
 Thy record is faultless, untarnished, and bright, 
 Thy sons gather round thee with greeting to-night 
 And while these fair flowers thy figure entwine, 
 •They stand in thy presence, and bow to thy shrine. 
 They hail thee, fair mother, with gladness untold. 
 Because thou hast lived to be fifty years old. 
 
 And now, oh my Brothers, a blessing for you, 
 To Honor and duty be faithful and true ; 
 And may Green Mountain Lodge continue to stand 
 Through Time's latest ages, a power in the land. 
 
•84 
 Laus Deo. 
 
 The holy calm of Sabbath 
 
 Reposeth on our hills, 
 It broodeth o'er our valleys, 
 
 It smileth on our rills. 
 Its holy presence whispers 
 
 In the still autumn air, 
 And Nature seemeth lifted 
 
 To God in silent prayer. 
 
 And Peace, Celestial angel, 
 
 Holds out her silver wand, 
 And spreads her golden pinions 
 
 O'er our beloved land. 
 With glad and grateful spirits 
 
 ( rod's Holy Courts we tread, 
 And offer Him our worship 
 
 With none to make afraid. 
 
 For all that spring bestoweth 
 
 With free and bounteous hand, 
 For blessings richly scattered 
 
 O'er all this goodly land, 
 For all the golden treasures 
 
 That Autumn freely pours, 
 With an unmeasured bounty. 
 
 From her o'erflowing stores : 
 
85 
 
 For life, and health, and comfort, 
 
 For country, home and friends, 
 For blessed rain and sunshine, 
 
 Which God so freely sends;' 
 For spring's delightful verdure, 
 
 And summer's deeper hue; 
 For golden tints of Autumn 
 
 And skies serenely blue : 
 
 For clouds with silver lining, 
 
 Whose motions never cease, 
 A true and lovely emblem 
 
 Of purity, and peace ; 
 And for the greater blessing, 
 
 The precious word of truth, 
 In age, a consolation, 
 
 A faithful guide in youth : 
 
 For hope divinely given 
 
 Through faith in that blest word; 
 A joyous hope of Heaven, 
 
 And for a risen Lord; 
 We praise the Heavenly Giver, 
 
 And thank the kindly power, 
 Whose smile brings light and blessing 
 
 With every passing hour. 
 
86 
 
 A Prayer. 
 
 Heavenly Father hear my plea, 
 Let me now commune with thee ; 
 Thou hast hedged me round about, 
 Thou alone canst bring me out. 
 
 Heart and eyes I lift to thee ; 
 Oh, my God deliver me : 
 Cause thy face on me to shine ; 
 Warm my heart with love divine. 
 
 Guide me, lead me day by day ; 
 In thy Providential way. 
 Let me see thy guiding hand, 
 Leading to the better land. 
 
 Well thou knowest my anxious fear, 
 Luring all my sojourn here ; 
 Lest I lose thy Heavenly grace, 
 Lest I fail to see thy face. 
 
 Thou hast heard the unuttered groan, 
 And the weary spirit's moan ; 
 Wrestling long in agony, 
 Let me now prevail with thee. 
 
87 
 
 Yes, my Lord, I now prevail ; 
 Thou hast named me "Israel." 
 
 Skies once dark are all aglow, 
 And I see the golden bow, 
 Spanning my horizon bright, 
 With its pure celestial light. 
 
 Heavenly music now 1 hear, 
 Filling my enraptured ear. 
 
 And a Heavenly voice Divine, 
 Whispers "Spirit thou art mine. 
 " I thy guest will ever be, 
 " Only love and worship me." 
 
 Be it thus, oh Heavenly guest ; 
 Enter in and give me rest ; 
 Then I'll sing with saints above, 
 "Hallelujah, God is Love." 
 
The Word Was God. 
 
 The word was God, sublime and glorious thought ! 
 
 And by that word the worlds sprang forth from naught, 
 
 Eternity drew back her solemn shade, 
 
 Revealing them in robes of light arrayed; 
 
 The formless void took shape, with beauty glowed, 
 
 And fitted for the glorious abode 
 
 Of beings pure, in God's own image made, 
 
 And in His spotless righteousness arrayed, 
 
 Began its course, and from His mighty will 
 
 Its impulses received potent, though still ; 
 
 And in majestic silence circling round 
 
 The throne of God, even to the depths profound, 
 
 Where thought ne'er reached, where seience ne'er explored, 
 
 They own the power and presence of the Word, 
 
 And shine obedient to the sovereign will 
 
 Of Him whose presence doth Creation fill. 
 
 By whom all things were made, who rules o'er all, 
 
 Yet without whom a sparrow cannot fall. 
 
 Incomprehensible Divinity ! 
 
 Our souls in adoration bow to thee, 
 
 Whose glory we behold in all thy ways, 
 
 Whose voice we hear in Nature's song of praise. 
 
 We hear it in the soft and gentle breeze, 
 
89 
 
 Whispering at rosy morn through dewy tiers; 
 We hear it in the thunder's fearful roar, 
 We feel it in the oft refreshing shower. 
 It speaks from radiant morn, whose golden hue 
 Is mirrored forth from pearly drops of dew; 
 Or from the gentle rill, or placid lake, 
 Or where the restless surges ever break 
 Upon the ocean's shores, reflecting far 
 The hues of morning like a golden star. 
 
 It speaks at evening, when the gorgeous ray 
 Flings on the clouds the hues of parting day ; 
 And sweetly ushers in with silent power 
 The star-lit beauties of the twilight hour. 
 And when the moon with mild and radiant light 
 'Shines through the fleecy clouds to cheer the night, 
 A still small voice comes whispering through the soul 
 That God in motion permeates the whole. 
 
 The word was God, yet took the human form, 
 Assumed the mean condition of a worm; 
 Was clothed with human flesh, bore human woes, 
 Shared all the griefs that human nature knows. 
 Lived, toiled, and suffered, to redeem the race, 
 God's own begotten full of truth and grace . 
 And having wrought redemption's glorious plan. 
 And made salvation possible to man, 
 He now ascends back to His first abode 
 The bosom of His father and His God. 
 
90 
 
 Ask not again my soul how Christ the son 
 Can with the blessed Father still be one. 
 Here rests the Christian's hope firm as a rock, 
 And undisturbed by error's fiercest shock. 
 This the great centre of redemption's plan 
 That God with God was also God with man. 
 Mercy to Justice pays the debt we owe. 
 And lets the poor repenting sinner go; 
 While Righteousness and Peace together meet, 
 And Truth, and Mercy, now each other greet. 
 Thus God is reconciled to sinful dust, 
 Can justify fallen man and still be just. 
 Let Heaven her never-ending anthem pour, 
 "To God be glory now and evermore?'' 
 
 "The word was God" 'tis food for every soul 
 That yields obedience to its sweet control. 
 "By every word of God," our Saviour said, 
 Man is to live, and not alone by bread." 
 The word is life and spirit, blessed word ! 
 Forever be that spotless name adored 
 Who sends the comforter the soul to bless, 
 And lead us in the paths of righteousness. 
 May that blest spirit be our constant guide 
 And ever keep us near the Saviour's side 
 Till, having closed our cares and labors here, 
 And finished our probation's brief career, 
 Eternal life shall be our rich reward, 
 And we be ever with our blessed Lord. 
 
91 
 
 Christ and the Children. 
 
 Come, Oh beloved with me, let us go to Capernaum's city; 
 
 Nestling down by the sea in the midst of perennial splendor: 
 
 City exalted to heaven by the presence and work of the Master; 
 
 Grand were her walls and her towers, looking out over Gali- 
 lee's water; 
 
 Rich was the landscape around, and clothed to the hill-tops 
 with verdure. 
 
 Hither the Saviour had come from the scenes of the transfigur- 
 ation; 
 
 Seeking for needed repose from a long and wearisome journey. 
 
 Peter throws open his doors, and welcomes them all to his 
 mansion; 
 
 Thus they were entertained and refreshed by one of their num- 
 ber; 
 
 Thus it continues to be among the disciples of Jesus; 
 
 Thus should it be their delight to love, and to help one another. 
 
 Now the disciples have come to ask the Redeemer a question; 
 He must decide the dispute and settle the matter forever. 
 "Tell us, Oh Master," they said, "which one of us all shall be 
 
 greatest; 
 Who shall be nearest to Thee, when Thou shalt come into Thy 
 
 kingdom?" 
 Sad was the visage of Christ at this proof of their pride and 
 
 ambition; 
 
92 
 
 Sad were the tones of His voice, as he called a little child to 
 Him, 
 
 Taking the child in His arms He said to His listening disciples: 
 
 "None who are not like this child can enter the kingdom of 
 Heaven. 
 
 Ye must be changed in your hearts and be in your natures like 
 children." 
 
 Thus spake the Saviour of Men in the Mansion of Andrew and 
 Peter; 
 
 Thus he is speaking to-day, and teaching the lessons of wisdom; 
 
 Oh, let us treasure His words and follow His Heavenly teach- 
 ing. 
 
 Let us be truthful, and pure, and childlike, and humble, and 
 loving; 
 
 Thus shall we walk in His steps, and gain His divine benedic- 
 tion ; 
 
 Thus and thus only can we be fitted to work in His vineyard; 
 
 Fitted to honor Him here, and then to enjoy Him forever. 
 
93 
 
 Ruth. 
 
 [Written for the Bible Readers' Union of the M. E. Church. 1 
 
 Entreat me no longer to leave thee I pray, 
 
 For whither thou goest, I also will go ; 
 
 Wherever thou lodgest I also will stay. 
 
 Thy joys, and thy sorrows, my bosom shall know. 
 
 In the place where thou diest I also will die, 
 In Judah or Moab as God shall decree ; 
 By the dust of my mother my ashes shall lie, 
 And nothing but death shall divide me and thee. 
 
 My home and my country, I gladly resign ; 
 
 Thy presence and love are far dearer to me ; 
 
 Thy God, and thy people, henceforth shall be mine ; 
 
 I leave all my friends and my kindred for thee. 
 
 The young widow's words are the words of a sage, 
 Ah, more, they are words of affection sublime ; 
 And the sweet chords she struck in that far distant age 
 Are echoing still through the arches of time. 
 
 'Tis harvest in Judah. O'er valley and plain 
 The song of the reapers is born on the air ; 
 The fields are all glowing with ripe golden grain, 
 And the bright sunny landscape is wondrously fair. 
 
94 
 
 The sun is just rising. O'er hill-top and dale 
 
 His Orient beams arc now chasing the night ; 
 
 The clear brook of Eshcol winds sweet through the vale, 
 
 And the scene is all glorious with morn's rosy light. 
 
 The rich son of Rahab has marshaled his men, 
 
 The spring's early sowing a hundred fold yields ; 
 
 They welcome his glad salutation, and then 
 
 Their sickles flash bright in the broad spreading fields. 
 
 That blest salutation ; how charming, how grand ! 
 
 No words of address could more beautiful be ; 
 
 How seldom we hear it in our day and land : 
 
 "The Lord ( iod be with you," "The Lord God bless thee.' 
 
 "Whose damsel is tins?" to his servant he said, 
 And quickly responsive the servant replied ; 
 •' 'Tis the Moabite maiden, her husband is dead, 
 With Naomi she came in our land to reside." 
 
 In humble attire she is gleaning the grain, 
 She heeds not the rays of the hot burning sun ; 
 From her noon's scanty meal now returning again, 
 Brief rest will she take 'till the day's work is done. 
 
 But hark ! he has called her, her story he knows, 
 Her faithful, unselfish and virtuous life ; 
 The mantling blood on his ruddy cheek glows ; 
 Even now he determines to make her his wife. 
 
95 
 
 He speaks. With a tenderness limn from above 
 And freighted with blessings his words seem to be : 
 He pours forth a rich benediction of love, 
 And she sweetly replies : "Thou hast comforted me." 
 
 Ali, Moabite damsel ! thou blest of the herd. 
 'Tis not barley only thy toiling doth yield ; 
 Thy love and thy faithfulness bring their reward. 
 Thou gleanest a HUSBAND in Bethlehem's field. 
 
 Yes, radiant maiden, the path thou has trod. 
 Though clouded by sorrow again and again, 
 Hath brought thee to favor with [srcel's God : 
 Through THEE shall descend the Redeemer of men. 
 
 Thy story is told all this green earth around, 
 It rolls through the nations, it glows with the years; 
 Wherever it come- with its sweet tender sound. 
 It lifts the despondent, the weary it cheers. 
 
 The mother of Obed has long been at rest. 
 And sweet he her sleep under Bethlehem's sky ; 
 But her words are embalmed and her memory's blest 
 And her record is written on earth and on high. 
 
96 
 
 The Transfiguration. 
 
 Oh come to the mountain beloved with me, 
 
 And a vision most wonderful there we will sec 
 
 The Saviour retires from the world far away, 
 
 With His three loved Disciples to watch and to pray ; 
 
 And night's sable curtain hangs over the deep 
 
 The stars shine above and the world is asleep. 
 
 And while thus engaged in communion and prayer 
 
 While His pleadings arose on the still midnight air, 
 
 A dazzling brightness, a Heavenly glow, 
 
 Makes His face like the sun and His raiment like snow. 
 
 The glory celestial that shone in His face 
 
 Illumines the darkness and fills all the place. 
 
 But listen, what heavenly voices we hear ; 
 
 All, look ! For Elias and Moses appear, 
 
 They, too, are enveloped in glory divine, 
 
 Their faces with brightness ineffable shine, 
 
 As they talk of His death and the glory to come, 
 
 When He shall have opened the gates of the tomb ; 
 
 < )f the millions His mighty atonement shall save, 
 
 "When He all triumphant shall rise from the grave. 
 

 97 
 
 How blessed, how fitting that these men of power 
 From the Heavenly regions should come at this hour ; 
 His suffering humanity needed the cheer 
 Which they brought from the ages in meeting Him here. 
 
 Then came a bright cloud and o'ershadowed them all; 
 The Disciples in fear on their faces now fall; 
 And the voice of Jehovah proclaims to the ear, — 
 " This is my beloved and Him shall ye hear !" 
 
 'Tis finished, the Transfiguration is o'er — 
 A scene to be witnessed on earth never more — 
 To the conquering Christ all dominion is given, 
 And Satan, like lightning has fallen from Heaven. 
 
 The Great Confession. 
 
 'Twas the golden time of summer, it was anno twenty-nine, 
 And the blessed Christ was traveling the land of Palestine, 
 He had come fram Dalmanutha, He had passed through 
 
 Galilee. 
 He had crossed the upper Jordan just above Tiberias sea, 
 And the snowy peak of Hermon rose before them white and 
 
 grand, 
 
98 
 
 And the coasts of Caesar-Philip were already close at hand. 
 
 They were weary with their journey, e'en the strongest and 
 the best 
 
 And they stopped to eat a morsel and to take a little rest ; 
 
 And the meek and lowly Saviour, ever watching for a time 
 
 To instruct his loved disciples, and to teach them truths sub- 
 lime: 
 
 Now propounds the mighty question sends it ringing all abroad, 
 And it brings the great confession "Thou art Christ the Son of 
 
 God." 
 Quickly comes the benediction ever flowing, ever free, 
 " Blessed art Thou, Son of Jonas, God revealeth this to thee." 
 And this blessing from the Master pouring forth in words 
 
 sublime, 
 Reacheth out to all the ages, reacheth to the end of time. 
 It is not tt» Peter only that the blessed keys are given, 
 But to every true believer, Faith unlocks the gate of Heaven. 
 Oh, Beloved, while we travel in the straight and narrow road; 
 Let us make our declaration "Jesus is the Son of God." 
 Let us hold fast our profession without wavering to the end, 
 Witnessing a good confession for our dear and heavenly friend. 
 Let us follow in the footsteps which the blest Redeemer trod, 
 Till it leads to bliss immortal, and the city of our God. 
 
99 
 
 I Write Unto You, Little Children. 
 
 Theme from ist John 2.12, to the Junior Temperance League. 
 
 I write unto you little children, 
 
 Because that your sins are forgiven; 
 And the Blessed Redeemer has told us, 
 
 ( )f such is the kingdom of Heaven. 
 I look in your innocent faces, 
 
 So rosy with joy and with love; 
 And thus I can see the reflection 
 
 Of the Saviour who liveth above. 
 
 I write unto you, little children; 
 
 Because you love virtue and truth ; 
 And you joined the cold water army 
 
 While yet in the dawning of youth, 
 And so you are valiantly lighting 
 
 The hosts of intemperance and sin; 
 In truth and in honor delighting; 
 
 The battle you surely will win. 
 
 I write unto all little children, 
 Their ways are so winning and sweet; 
 
 So cheerful their innocent prattle, 
 And the sound of their pattering feet. 
 
 Dear children, the sweetest and purest 
 
100 
 
 Among the earth's beautiful things; 
 Of all our heart-treasures the dearest; 
 They are "Angels without any wings." 
 
 I write unto you young people, 
 
 Because ye are strong in the Lord; 
 And because the good work you are doing 
 
 Is blest and approved by His word. 
 Be true to yourselves, and to virtue; 
 
 To this all your influence give; 
 And labor to make the world better, 
 
 And work just as long as you live. 
 
 I'll Think of Thee. 
 
 I'll think of thee, Mary, at morning, 
 
 When dawn lifts her fresh dewy eye; 
 And the glorious sun is adorning 
 
 The vault of ethereal sky. 
 When the songsters are merrily telling 
 
 Their stories of joy from the grove; 
 And the music of Nature is swelling, 
 
 Harmonious, in accents of love. 
 
101 
 
 I'll think of thee, Mary, at evening, 
 
 When the soft, loving twilight appears; 
 And the moon, in her beauty is beaming 
 
 Through the silvery mantle she wears. 
 As I wander in deep meditation, 
 
 With my great Creator alone; 
 My wishes for thy preservation, 
 
 Shall ascend to the Heavenly throne. 
 
 In Springtime I'll think of thee, Mary, 
 
 When Nature bursts forth from the tomb, 
 While she, of her long slumber weary, 
 
 Dispels all her sadness, and gloom. 
 When the bud, and the embryo blossom, 
 
 Burst forth to the sun's cheering ray; 
 Like the hope that springs up in my bosom, 
 
 Of a brighter, and happier day. 
 
 In summer, I'll think of thee, Mary, 
 
 When the trees their rich livery wear; 
 When naught upon earth appears dreary, 
 
 When joyfulness banishes care. 
 When the landscape in brightness and glory, 
 
 Enrobed in her Emerald Green, 
 By the lavish profusion of Flora, 
 
 In rural perfection is seen. 
 
102 
 
 In autumn, I'll think of thee, Mary, 
 
 As I wander, at evening along 
 To the grove, that no longer is merry 
 
 With the notes of the whip-poor-will's song. 
 In winter, 111 think of thee, Mary, 
 
 When the snow is on forest and lea; 
 Forever I'll think of thee, Mary, 
 
 Let me not be forgotten by thee. 
 
 To Miss M. H. 
 
 An Epigram. 
 
 'Tis a blessed position, 
 This Christly commission, 
 To work in the mission 
 From day unto day; 
 This work of each member, 
 'Tis well to remember, 
 Is making December 
 As pleasant as May. 
 
103 
 
 O t Decatur! 
 
 (Song — "O, Susannah !"') 
 
 Far down within the sunny land 
 
 Where roses ever bloom, 
 With flowers fair on every hand, 
 
 Breathe forth their sweet perfume; 
 Where cities rise like magic — 
 
 The creation of a day — 
 Oh, that's the place that pleases me, 
 
 And there I'd love to stay. 
 Oh, Decatur! that's the place for me, 
 The gate of Alabama, by the lovely Tennessee. 
 
 There fields are green and skies are blue, 
 
 And winter's hardly known; 
 And birds of every song and hue 
 
 Sing music all their own. 
 Where Nature has her blessings rich, 
 
 Bestowed with bounteous hand, 
 Ah ! that's the place that pleases me, 
 
 The bright and sunny land, 
 Oh, Decatur ! that's the place for me, 
 The gate of Alabama, by the lovely Tennessee. 
 
104 
 
 'Tis there the men of enterprise, 
 
 Have raised their standard high, 
 To show the world what men can do 
 
 Whenever men will try; 
 The desert turns to fruitful field, 
 
 And night is turned to day, 
 And Nature's dormant forces yield 
 
 To Art's more potent sway. 
 Oh, Decatur ! that's the place for me, 
 The gate of Alabama, by the grand old Tennessee, 
 
 A cheer for Alabama ! 
 
 For she hastens to be great; 
 We send a hearty greeting 
 
 From the old Green Mountain State ! 
 Success to young Decatur, 
 
 Soon may she come to be 
 The Queen of Alabama, 
 
 By the glorious Tennessee ! 
 Oh, Decatur ! that's the place for me, 
 The Queen of Alabama by the mighty Tennessee. 
 
105 
 
 Hills of Decatur. 
 
 [Written when Decatur, Alabama, was in the high tide of prosperity.] 
 
 Let us go, let us go 
 
 To the hills of Decatur ; 
 Where the soft breezes blow, 
 
 Wafted from the Equator. 
 Where the sun brightly gleams 
 
 On the sweet blooming flowers ; 
 And the cool sparkling streams 
 
 Flow through green shady bowers. 
 
 'Tis a bright sunny land 
 
 With its wood-covered mountains ; 
 From whose sides, steep, and grand, 
 
 Gush the clear, crystal fountains ; 
 And its hills, ever green, 
 
 With their soft lights and shadows ; 
 And its broad vales between ; 
 
 And its smooth, grassy meadows. 
 
 There the oak and the pine 
 
 In their forest seclusion ; 
 Their strong branches entwine 
 
 In an endless profusion ; 
 
106 
 
 There the birds of the air 
 
 Waked by nature's own warning 
 Pour their notes soft and fair 
 
 On the breezes of morning. 
 
 There the broad Tennessee, 
 
 Flowing on, flowing ever, 
 Rolls her tide to the sea, 
 
 Pausing not, pausing never. 
 There a city is placed 
 
 'Mid the beauties of Nature ; 
 Ijet us haste, let us haste, 
 
 To the hills of Decatur, 
 
107 
 
 To an Infant. 
 
 Beautiful child, how sweet thy face 
 Lying serenely in Death's embrace ; 
 Closed is thine eye in thy long last sleep ; 
 Heeding no more the friends that weep. 
 
 Hushed is thy voice, so dear, so sweet ; 
 Silent the tread of thy infant feet ; 
 Thou hast repeated thy last sweet prayer, 
 Gone is thy spirit, where angels are. 
 
 Yes the dear Saviour has called for thee, 
 Heaven thy dwelling henceforth shall be ; 
 Thou hast been gathered in beauty's prime, 
 To a more lovely and genial clime. 
 
108 
 How I Found My Pocket-book. 
 
 An Incident of Brooklyn. 
 
 Sitting silent in my office, 
 Musing on the world's great strife ; 
 Thinking of the griefs and sorrows 
 That befall us in this life ; 
 
 Thus engaged the door was opened, 
 And in glided quietly, 
 One of Brooklyn's fairest daughters, 
 And politely asked for me. 
 
 Wondering what could be the mission 
 Of this lady, young and fair ; 
 What dire words of fearful import . 
 Would she tell me then and there ; 
 
 While I sat in expectation, 
 Eyeing her with anxious look, 
 With bewitching grace she asked me, 
 "Did you lose a pocket-book?" 
 
 All the scene then flashed before me 
 Swift as in a vision fleet, 
 When I placed my little daughter 
 On the cars, in Clinton street. 
 
109 
 
 " Yes," I said, at once divining 
 Why this friendly call should be, 
 She had found my valued treasure, 
 And had brought it back to me. 
 
 Blessings on that gentle lady, 
 And amid life's cares and woes, 
 May she scatter smiles and blessings, 
 Through the world where e'er she goes. 
 
 To a Son. 
 
 Suggested by an affectionate letter. 
 
 The golden moments fly on angels' wings, 
 The golden hours pass quickly o'er the head ; 
 
 Each golden day, its freight of blessings brings, 
 And never fails to bring our daily bread. 
 
 But there are things with which we never part, 
 Some treasured treasures, but among them none 
 
 That so enshrine themselves within the heart, 
 As "golden wishes from a grateful son." 
 
110 
 
 An Acrostic. 
 
 Flowers again are in full bloom. 
 Lovely flowers fresh and fair; 
 Oh how sweet their rich perfume 
 Rises on the morning air. 
 Early birds their carols sing, 
 Nature puts her beauty on; 
 Come at last, is lovely spring, 
 Earth rejoices, winter's gone. 
 
 Days of gladness and delight 
 
 All aglow with rosy light 
 
 You my fair one, make them bright. 
 
Ill 
 
 'Hoe Your Own Row.' 
 
 There's a secret in life that we all have to learn, 
 Who would rise in the world, and a living would earn. 
 And now if this secret you're anxious to know 
 I'll cheerfully tell you, just hoe your own row. 
 
 There's many a man who is honest ami clever. 
 But so slow in his work that it takes him forever; 
 But the man that's successful, and makes business go, 
 Is the man that goes at it, and hoes his own row. 
 
 'Tis good to have friends, provided they're true; 
 'Tis good to have money, that helps a man too; 
 But the friends and the money are certain to go 
 
 On the side of the man that hoes out his own row. 
 
 I've met in my lifetime with many a man 
 
 Who early in life had adopted this plan, 
 
 And with nothing to start, made a fortune to grow, 
 
 And this was the secret, he hoed his own row. 
 
 Such men it is true may get many a blow, 
 
 But their foes will all cease when they find it no go; 
 
 And lifting their hats, they will bow very low 
 
 To the man who, in spite of them, hoes his own row. 
 
112 
 
 Spring. 
 
 Listen to the voice of spring ; 
 Through the woods her echoes ring 
 Charming is the verdant scene ; 
 Welcome, welcome, spring again. 
 
 Listen to the melody 
 Of the birds upon each tree ; 
 Pouring forth a joyous strain ; 
 Welcome, welcome, spring again. 
 
 Listen to the notes of love, 
 Echoing from vale and grove ; 
 Lovely hills and vales between, 
 Welcome, welcome, spring again. 
 
 Her enchanting touch is seen 
 In the landscape's dress of green ; 
 Beauty sits on every scene ; 
 Welcome, welcome, spring again. 
 
 All around is peace and joy ; 
 Happiness without alloy ; 
 Let man, in a nobler strain, 
 Join to welcome spring again. 
 
113 
 
 Coasting Song. 
 
 Tune, The Campbell's are Coming. 
 
 die traverse is coming, take care, take care ! 
 Oli list to its humming, beware, beware ! 
 For down we come sailing so light and gay ; 
 Now faster and faster, get out of the way ! 
 
 Now ready, all ready, away we go 
 < >ver the beautiful ice and snow ; 
 A mile in a minute, yes that's the law ; 
 A mile in a minute, Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ! 
 
 A cheer for the sport that brings vigor and health ; 
 'Tis better, far better than millions of wealth ; 
 It mantles the cheek with a ruddy glow, 
 As down the street spinning we merrily go. 
 
 A cheer for the traverse both short and long ; 
 A cheer for toboggans both light and strong ; 
 Hurrah for the tuques, and the waving curls, 
 And the bloom on the cheek of the boys and the girls ! 
 
 Come out to the coasting, both young and old ; 
 Come out in the evening, both timid and bold ; 
 The streets are all lighted, and flashing afar, 
 And the shout of the coasters rings out on the air. 
 
114 
 
 Farewell to consumption, to fevers and chills ; 
 Farewell to the doctors with powders and pills ; 
 There's pleasure in coasting both rich and rare ; 
 There's vigor and health in the pure winter air. 
 
 A Story With a Moral. 
 
 There lived up in Richmond a doctor of note, 
 Whom the people by almost unanimous vote, 
 Which showed most conclusively they were no fools, 
 I hid appointed as superintendent of schools. 
 
 Now the doctor knew well how to prize education. 
 Ami moreover, he knew 'twas the hope of the nation 
 And so he resolved on the faithful discharge 
 ( )f the duty he owed to the country at large. 
 
 One fine summer day he had noted it down, 
 That he would inspect all the schools of the town. 
 Would take half a day to examine each one 
 And see if the school-ma'ams their duty had done. 
 
 As he journeyed along on his laudable mission 
 
 To examine the schools, and observe their condition, 
 
 A neighbor he soon overtook by the way, 
 
 And something like this was their talk on that day : 
 
Ill 
 
 " Good morning, good morning," the doctor begany 
 
 Addressing his neighbor, a plain farmer-man, 
 
 " Your school I am going to visit to-day ; 
 
 " Now come, get in here, and go with me, I say."' 
 
 " Oh no," said the farmer, " that never will do, 
 " To visit our teacher and pupils with you ; 
 " I've a couple of calves in the pasture up here. 
 " It's so dry that they're suffering for water I tear." 
 
 With a look that compelled him to hang down his head. 
 The doctor turned full on the fanner and said, 
 "Allow me to ask you a question, my friend, 
 " Ere yon go to the pasture your calves to attend ; 
 
 "Haven't you got a couple of calves down this way 
 
 •' At the school-house, that need your attention to-day ?' 
 
 The farmer looked puzzled, he said not a word, 
 But he faithfully treasured the lesson he heard ; 
 And though he took care of his stock as before, 
 His children, henceforth, were neglected no more. 
 
 And now let all farmers who do things by halves 
 Take care of their children as well as their calves- 
 
116 
 
 Canadian Shrewdness. 
 
 It came to pass, not very long ago, 
 
 On the occasion of a cattle show, 
 
 That a shrewd Frenchman, wide awake for trade, 
 
 And looking for the money to be made, 
 
 Without a possibility of loss, 
 
 Was driving at lus trade of " swap de hoss." 
 
 Of course the beast was young and in his prime, 
 
 And showed but little the effect of time. 
 
 The trade went on. " I know," the Frenchman said, 
 
 " He don't look very well," and scratched his head, 
 
 " But he is one good bosses' I tell you, 
 
 " I swap, you geeve me tirty dollar too." 
 
 With many words the trade was duly made, 
 
 The horses changed, the "tirty dollar" paid, 
 
 Each took his homeward way with happy air, 
 
 And night closed down upon that cattle fair. 
 
 As in all ages past 'twas still the same, 
 After the night, again the morning came ; 
 And as a thing of course, the man who paid 
 The " tirty dollar " in the recent trade, 
 Went to the barn his fine young horse to feed, 
 To test his mettle, and to try his speed, 
 But to his horror soon began to find 
 That he was victimized, the horse was blind. 
 
117 
 
 With rage and disappointment in his eye, 
 That everyone might see as he passed by ; 
 He hastens on his shrewd old friend to find, 
 To state his grievance, and to free his mind. 
 
 " Bon jour, Monsieur, that horse you sold I find 
 
 " Can't see at all, he is entirely blind !" 
 
 "He bline," you say, "Dat bosses what 1 sell, 
 
 " Well, you remember now just what I tell, 
 
 " I say ' He no look very well dis fall ' 
 
 " By gosh ! I don't know if he look at all.'" 
 
 The Sportsman. 
 
 There was a man long time ago, 
 
 A man of other times. 
 (Good friend do not be angry now, 
 
 I do not mean "Old Grimes.") 
 
 He was a sportsman, fond of sport, 
 
 But it is sad to tell, 
 That, though a man of fair report, 
 
 He loved his cups too well. 
 
118 
 
 This sportsman sported dog and gun, 
 
 Among his other sports; 
 His dog, in chase of game to run, 
 
 His gun, to make "reports." 
 
 A hunting tour he'd often make, 
 
 At break of early morn ; 
 Though powder he might fail to take; 
 
 He always "took a horn." 
 
 This was the cause that brought about 
 
 His luck, in killing game. 
 He never fired his gun, without 
 
 "An object, or an aim." 
 
 A friendly glass, his neighbors knew 
 
 He never would refuse, 
 And so he oft got very "blue;" 
 
 And then, he had the "blues." 
 
 Such were his habits day by day, 
 
 And whether true or not, 
 His neighhors often used to say 
 
 That he was badly "shot." 
 
 And 'tis an easy thing to see, 
 
 This story might be true; 
 For true it was, that sometimes, he 
 
 Was badly "loaded" too. 
 
119 
 
 When loaded thus, (and such a load 
 Was more than he could bear;) 
 
 'Twas often feared he would "explode," 
 And go, we won't say where. 
 
 And so, at last, it proved to be; 
 
 Ti i say it, gives me pain, 
 For he "went off" quite suddenly, 
 
 And ne'er returned again. 
 
 To you, oh men of sport, I say, 
 Whate'er your state, or name; 
 
 Don't load too heavy, or you may 
 Become the Devil's game. 
 
 Sweet Lemons. 
 
 Sweet leman dis mornin'! 
 I get dem for sell ; 
 Deay all very nice, 
 An dey beautiful smell. 
 
 Dey jis come from Boston, 
 Not long on de way ; 
 Dey very nice leman, 
 I get dem to-day. 
 
120 
 
 They are very nice, 
 And their flavor I'd try ; 
 But the fact is, my friend, 
 I've no money to buy. 
 
 Your fruit is delicious, 
 Of this I've no doubt ; 
 But I'm poor to-day, Louis. 
 And must go without. 
 
 " You pauvre, Oh Lady, 
 " What make you say dat ? 
 " I tink you not pauvre 
 "Oh no, you he fat." 
 
 You want some sweet leman 
 For mange to-day ; 
 I make you dis offer, 
 I take you for pay. 
 
 " You want some sweet leman, 
 " You pay me next time ; 
 ' ' I geeve you an dozen 
 " Beeg one for tree dime ; 
 
 " Y«>u nice pooty woman, 
 ' ' I truss you for pay ; 
 ' ' I pray for you lady 
 " Mos' every day." 
 
121 
 
 Why the Old Rooster Would Not Die. 
 
 Listen my boy, and you shall know, 
 
 A thing that happened long time ago. 
 
 When I was a boy not so old as you, 
 
 And the youngest of all the children too ; 
 
 Even now I laugh as I think it o'er 
 
 And the more I think, I laugh the more. 
 
 'Twas the chilly eve of an Autumn day 
 
 We were all in the kitchen cheery and gay ; 
 
 The fire burned bright on the old brick hearth, 
 
 And its cheerful light gave a zest to our mirth. 
 
 My eldest sister addressing me, 
 
 " To-morrow's Thanksgiving you know," said she, 
 
 " We must kill the chickens to-night, you see ; 
 
 " Now light the lantern and come with me ; 
 
 " I will wring their necks until they are dead, 
 
 " And we'll have them all dressed ere we go to bed. 
 
 So the huge old lantern made of tin, 
 
 Punched full of holes, and a candle within, 
 
 Put in its appearance in shorter time 
 
 Than it takes to make this jingling rhyme. 
 
 We started out, and the way I led, 
 
 For a raid on the chickens under the shed ; 
 
 A pile of roots filled the open space, 
 
 Thus making a splendid roosting place, 
 
122 
 
 And a motley group of domestic fowls 
 
 Sat perched there as grave and demure as owls ; 
 
 My sister, unused to scenes of blood, 
 
 And pale with excitement, trembling stood ; 
 
 But summoning courage, she laid her plans, 
 
 And seized the old rooster with both her hands. 
 
 And with triumph written all over her face, 
 
 Her victim bore to the open space. 
 
 Then she wrung and wrung with might and main, 
 
 And wrung and twisted and wrung again, 
 
 Till, sure that the spark of life had fled 
 
 She threw him down on the ground for dead. 
 
 But the rooster would not consent to die. 
 
 And be made up into a chicken pie; 
 
 So he sprung away with cackle and .bound, 
 
 Almost as soon as he touched the ground; 
 
 And hiding away from the candle's light, 
 
 Escaped the slaughter of that dark night. 
 
 My sister, thus brought to a sudden stand, 
 
 And looking at what she had in her hand, 
 
 Soon saw why the rooster was not dead, 
 
 She had wrung off his tail instead of his head. 
 
123 
 
 A True Story. 
 
 Two worthy men once lived in Clintonville, 
 
 Both famed for keen sarcasm and repartee; 
 Old Uncle Bennie lived below the hill, 
 
 And from his home 1 his pleasant farm could see ; 
 His friend lived near enough to be his neighbor, 
 Both passed their days in hard and honest labor. 
 
 And yet, though friends, there was a ceaseless strife, 
 
 A doubtful contest which had long been waged, 
 Which broke the quietness of rural life ; 
 They never met but they at once engaged, 
 
 And jokes and gibes began their ceaseless rattle ; 
 Thus Greek met Greek, then came the tug of battle. 
 
 At length they met, 'twas on a summer day, 
 
 The sun was bright and cloudless was the sky; 
 The air was scented with the new-mown hay. 
 The bobolink sang merrily near by ; 
 The time was fitting for a final tussle, 
 And so the heroes soon were on their muscle. 
 
 Says Bennie 'Friend I have a w< >rd to say, 
 
 If thee will only take it in good cheer, 
 And act accordingly without delay, 
 
124 
 
 I think thee'd better run away from here. 
 In doing so thou wilt promote the good 
 Of all the people in the neighborhood.' 
 
 'I think that you are right' — the other said 
 
 'Perhaps it would be well for me to go, 
 But some one else might rise up in my stead, 
 
 Whose wit would be too much for you, you know,' 
 "Where will thee run," said Bennie with a hiss 
 "Thee's run away from every place but this." 
 
 To Chronic Growlers. 
 
 If dogs delight to bark and bite, 
 Their course you need not follow, 
 
 For he who growls the greatest growl, 
 Is often the most hollow. 
 
 It can't be made good stock in trade ; 
 
 This everlasting howling ; 
 Though enemies are often made, 
 
 You can't make friends by growling. 
 
 Whoever tries can catch more flies 
 With a spoonfid of molasses ; 
 
 Than with a quart of vinegar 
 Though placed in twenty glasses. 
 
125 
 
 "The Filthy Weed/ 
 
 What is it grows in Sunt hern climes ; 
 Much used hy men in later times ; 
 Which costs them far too many dimes? 
 Tobacco. 
 
 What is it gives a loathsome breath ; 
 Puts men into the drunkard's path ; 
 Which shortens life and hastens death ? 
 Tobacco. 
 
 What is it causes gnawing pain ; 
 A dizzy head, and fevered brain ; 
 Makes some folks fools, and some insane? 
 Tobacco. 
 
 What is it all the ladies hate ; 
 Which never makes men good, or great ; 
 But boys must try at any rate? 
 Tobacco. 
 
 What is it makes a man a slave, 
 And often brings an early grave, 
 From which no art has power to save ? 
 Tobacco. 
 
126 
 
 What is it we should take good heed, 
 Never on such vile stuff to feed ; 
 But say begone ! you filthy weed ? 
 Tobacco. 
 
 A Poem Read in a Good Templars' Lodge. 
 
 Ye temperance people lend an ear, 
 
 While briefly I address you; 
 And the first impulse of my heart. 
 
 Is to exclaim, God bless you ! 
 
 You thought to lend a helping hand. 
 
 In this our day of trouble; 
 And so this Templars' Lodge you planned; 
 
 May God reward you double. 
 
 'Twill stay the tide of human woe, 
 
 'Twill lift a load of sorrow; 
 And cause to dawn on troubled hearts 
 
 A glorious to-morrow. 
 
 'Twill save the youth of promise fair 
 From sins that sorely grieve him, 
 
 And give him back his lady love 
 Now just about to leave him. 
 
127 
 
 'Twill save the money now paid out 
 
 To many a whiskey seller; 
 And save the life and character 
 
 Of many a worthy fellow. 
 
 Ye nohle girls of our fair laud, 
 
 In faith and hope uniting; 
 And side by side, a valiant band, 
 
 This mighty battle lighting: 
 
 Vnu wield a most tremendous power; 
 
 Young men are what you make them-. 
 Declare they must be sobt r rrn n, 
 
 Or else, you'll never take them. 
 
 And ye, young men of every trade. 
 Temperance a noble trade is; 
 
 You, in this grand and glorious cause, 
 Should emulate the Ladies. 
 
 Ye lawyers too, both great and small; 
 
 Well skilled in artful dodges; 
 Don't think yourselves too wise or great 
 
 To join Good Templars' Lodges. 
 
128 
 
 To Eliza. 
 
 You speak of the days gone by — Cousin, 
 
 Our innocent youthful days; 
 When our joyous hearts beat warm and high, 
 
 In the light of hope's happy rays. 
 
 You will not attempt to deny — Cousin 
 That you've thought of them oft before; 
 
 And I fancy I hear you softly sigh, 
 
 For those days that will come no more. 
 
 But the world is beautiful still — Cousin, 
 And the heart, still young and gay; 
 
 Untouched by the chilling hand of time, 
 As yet, knoweth naught of decay. 
 
 We will calmly regard the past — Cousin 
 
 And turn with a hope serene, 
 To the joys of the Home in the world to come, 
 
 Which human eye ne'er hath seen. 
 
 For the Father is leading us on — Cousin, 
 
 With a kind and a gentle hand; 
 To the glorious life, far from mortal strife; 
 
 To the brighter, and better land. 
 
129 
 
 Presentation Song. 
 
 Teacher, take this little treasure, 
 Which with grateful hearts we give; 
 
 May it be a source of pleasure; 
 Take, and keep it while you live. 
 
 Teacher, take our heartfelt blessing, 
 With the gift we now bestow; 
 
 May you, Heaven's love possessing, 
 Safely through life's journey go. 
 
 Teacher, we shall meet no longer, 
 As we're meeting here to-day. 
 
 Yet, may frienpship's tie grow stronger, 
 As the years shall roll away. 
 
130 
 
 To a Beloved Pastor. 
 
 My heart has longed to see you, 
 These many weary days; 
 
 To see your smile of gladness. 
 And join in words of praise. 
 
 "God bless yon," faithful brother, 
 Comes from my inmost soul; 
 
 My spirit's deep emotions 
 Are far beyond control. 
 
 I think of all your labors, 
 Your earnest prayers and tears ; 
 
 And in my recollection, 
 They'll live through future years 
 
 A Christian Church divided, 
 We were, when first you came; 
 
 A Christian Church united, 
 Now lives to bless your name. 
 
 A hundred faithful converts 
 Are standing for the Lord; 
 
 Are walking in His statutes, 
 And trusting in His word. 
 
131 
 
 Old Abraham was faithful, 
 
 And so was Isaac too: 
 God kept him in temptation 
 
 And brought him safely through. 
 
 .May you, my more than Brother, 
 By Him who rules above; 
 
 Be kept through all the future, 
 In peace, and joy, and love. 
 
 The thoughts I here have written 
 Come thronging in my mind; 
 
 I will not make excuses, 
 For what you here may find. 
 
 Send back a kindly greeting, 
 
 To cheer me on my way; 
 I mean to come and see you, 
 
 And make a little stay. 
 
 And whenso'er you happen 
 
 To come as far as B, 
 Be sure to call and see us, 
 
 Be sure and stay to t< a 
 
 And now, farewell, my brother, . 
 
 Believe me still to be 
 In faith, and love, and duty, 
 
 Yours truly, C. A. C. 
 
132 
 
 Reminiscences of Childhood. 
 
 How often, in my childhood days, 
 Did I frequent this ancient road; 
 
 How often, through this shady place, 
 My boyish footsteps trod. 
 
 Oh, pleasant recollection 
 
 Of childhood's happy day: 
 Oh, mournful, sad reflection; 
 
 Those hours have passed away. 
 
 Dear to remembrance is this place, 
 * My brother and I so often sought; 
 Its memory time cannot efface; 
 It cannot be forgot. 
 
 Say brother, say, where art thou ? 
 
 Where has thy spirit fled ? 
 Thy sprightly form is moldering now, 
 
 Long numbered with the dead. 
 
 Young spring's first footsteps now are seen; 
 
 The fairest flowers deck the ground; 
 And Flora, with her dress of green 
 
 Has clad the scene around. 
 
133 
 
 But young spring, soon receding, 
 
 Then follows summer's glow; 
 Thus each to each succeeding; 
 
 The seasons come, and'go. 
 
 'Tis thus life's journey is begun; 
 
 The beauteous prospect charms the eye; 
 While brightly beams the golden sun, 
 
 From out an azure sky. 
 
 But life's spring fast retreating, 
 
 To summer will give place; 
 Life's autumn, quickly meeting; 
 
 We close our earthly race. 
 
 School-Day Memories. 
 
 Read at a Dinner Given by Mrs. P. M. to a Party of the Author'6 Former 
 Pupils. 
 
 Awake, oh muse and help us sing 
 The school-day songs we loved so well; 
 
 Turn back, oh Time, and to us bring 
 The scenes of which we love to tell. 
 
134 
 
 What precious memories throng around 
 The pleasant years of school-day life; 
 
 They come with sweet and gentle sound, 
 Unmarred by sorrow, care or strife, 
 
 I see a group of children fair, 
 
 < lathering around the school-house dear; 
 Their shouts ring out on the morning air, 
 
 They know no sorrow, grief, or fear. 
 
 The boys are playing tag or ball; 
 
 A. group of girls are softly humming 
 A school-day song, but most of all 
 
 They watch to see the teacher coining. 
 
 "Ah, there he comes !' 7 away they bound, 
 Led by a bright tow-headed creature; 
 
 Their flying feet scarce touch the ground; 
 So eager they, to meet the teacher. 
 
 Among that group could some be found 
 Who often carried off the honors; 
 
 As scholars they were good all round, 
 A jolly family of "C'onners." 
 
 And one of these a right good heart. 
 
 Was always cheerful, always merry; 
 And ever prompt to do her part; 
 
 And everybody called her "Mary." 
 
135 
 
 And then there was a noble boy, 
 None ever knew him but to love; 
 
 He is not here to share our joy, 
 But shares the greater joys above. 
 
 And then there was another girl, 
 Who came to be a tine dn>ss-maker ; 
 
 Could fit a dress, or plait a curl, 
 At last she came to be a " Baker." 
 
 And there was Eva, sweet and small ; 
 
 And cheerful as a Happy New-Year, 
 And still she lives to cheer us all ; 
 
 Oh Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! ! 
 
 Ah what a company we knew 
 
 Whose names we now can scarce recall; 
 An army by the name of Drew, 
 
 Of boys and girls, good scholars all. 
 
 Truman and Jones and Proctor, too, 
 And Willard we must not forget; 
 
 A whole quartette of Blethens too, 
 
 They're living yet ! they're living yet ! 
 
 And Austin too, how well we know ; 
 
 How bright and yet how sad his story; 
 How well he preached, (our little Joe) 
 
 And then dropped dead and went to glory. 
 
186 
 
 How happy were those bright school days ; 
 
 How sweet their memory though they're past ; 
 They ever will command a place 
 
 Within our hearts while life shall last. 
 
 We're training in another school ; 
 
 Teacher and pupils all together ; 
 Our teacher Christ, His word our rule, 
 
 We take the gift, and bless the giver. 
 
 To S. H. 
 
 (On his Eighty-third Birthday.) 
 
 In shadow and sunshine; 
 
 In joys, and in tears; 
 You have travelled life's pathway 
 
 These eighty-three years. 
 We come to salute you, 
 
 This beautiful day; 
 And bid you go on, 
 
 In the same good old way. 
 
 How sweet, at the close 
 
 Of a long, useful life; 
 To feel that, amid 
 
 The world's turmoil, and strife, 
 
137 
 
 You never have faltered, 
 
 But worked with your might, 
 
 For honor, and virtue, 
 For justice, and right. 
 
 You have succored the sick, 
 
 And the poor you have fed; 
 You have cared for the dying, 
 
 And buried the dead. 
 Your hand has been open 
 
 To help the distressed; 
 You smote the oppressor, 
 
 And saved the oppressed. 
 
 Like the Oak in the tempesl 
 
 You firmly have stood; 
 By evil men hated 
 
 But loved by the good; 
 And hosts of the people 
 
 Will rise up, and say, 
 " He worked for our welfare 
 
 By night, and by day.'' 
 
 Though rugged and thorny 
 The path you have trod, 
 
 You are rapidly nearing 
 The City of God. 
 
 The breezes Celestial 
 
138 
 
 Are rilling your sails, 
 And Homeward you're driven 
 By Heaven's sweet gales. 
 
 Ride on o'er life's Ocean, 
 
 Oh mariner brave; 
 The fiercer the tempest, 
 
 And higher the wave, 
 The sooner life's voyage 
 
 Will come to a close; 
 And peacefully end 
 
 In eternal repose. 
 
 Accept this poor offering; 
 
 It comes from a friend; 
 And may Heaven's rich blessings 
 
 Your footsteps attend; 
 And we hope, that before 
 
 Your probation is o'er, 
 To your life shall be added 
 
 Yet many years more. 
 
139 
 
 Alphabetical Acrostic. 
 
 As the bright rose of summer in radiance appears, 
 
 Bringing joy to the heart of the beauty it wears; 
 
 Casting forth its mild fragrance o'er landscape and sea; 
 
 Do thou let it be but an emblem of thee. 
 
 Each day as it flies on the swift wings of time; 
 
 From its onward career learn a lesson sublime. 
 
 Give all due attention to virtue and truth; 
 
 Her counsels be ever the guide of thy youth. 
 
 If youth flies away with the bloom which it gave; 
 
 Just remember, when nearing the gloom of the grave, 
 
 Kind Heaven in mercy delights to impart 
 
 Life, pardon, and peace, to the calm trusting heart. 
 
 Mid the trials of life, mid its sorrow and care, 
 
 Never yield to temptation, nor sink in despair. 
 
 O'er all thy life's path let true virtue preside, 
 
 Peace then shall be thine, and no evil betide. 
 
 Quick as thought let thy judgment appropriate truth; 
 
 Kemember thy maker in the davs of thy youth. 
 
 Supported by power that comes from on high, 
 
 Thy life shall be sweet, and its moments pass by, 
 
 Unruffled by care, and unsullied by sin; 
 
 Vice all kept without, and true virtue within. 
 
 Watch well o'er your words, let your actions be pure, 
 
 Your peace, and your joy, then shall ever endure. 
 
140 
 
 Vita Ex Morte. 
 
 From the fair sunny South 
 
 With a terrible cry, 
 Comes the wail of the stricken, 
 
 "Send help or we die." 
 And quickly responsive 
 
 From one, and from all, 
 Goes the wealth of the North 
 
 At Humanity's call ; 
 While, for those who are left 
 
 In that scene of despair ; 
 Rolls upward to Heaven 
 
 One volume of prayer. 
 
 Oh, Angel of death, 
 
 Thy dark wings hast thou spread ; 
 Thou fillest our cities 
 
 With dying and dead ; 
 By hundreds, and thousands, 
 
 Thou layest them to sleep ; 
 And thou givest no time 
 
 For the living to weep. 
 
141 
 
 Oh Land of the South, 
 
 Thou art stricken of God ; 
 Wilt thou bend to the stroke 
 
 Of the chastening rod? 
 Wilt thou see in this plague 
 
 The omnipotent Hand 
 That sendeth rebuke 
 
 For the sins of the land ? 
 Wilt thou turn from oppression, 
 
 From bloodshed, and strife, 
 And glorify Him 
 
 In whose hand is thy life? 
 
 When the Angel of death. 
 
 At the word of the Lord, 
 Shall return to its scabbard 
 
 His glittering sword ; 
 When the pestilence dire, 
 
 To the full shall be fed, 
 And the line shall be drawn 
 
 'Twixt the living and dead : 
 
 When gladness replaces 
 Thy terror, and gloom, 
 
 And peace, health, and safety, 
 Their sw r ay shall resume ; 
 
 Wilt thou cease to remember 
 The hearts that have prayed, 
 
142 
 
 And the hands that have given 
 That the plague might be stayed? 
 
 Let friendship and union 
 
 Grow strong from this hour ; 
 Ami hint herly kindness 
 
 Assert its full power ; 
 
 Let malice departj 
 
 Let peace come in its stead, 
 And friendship lie sealed, 
 
 ( >'er the grave of the dead. 
 
U3 
 
 The Old Pine Tree on the Court-House Square. 
 
 'Tis little more than a hundred years, 
 Since the ground whereon our city stands; 
 Was covered thick with a forest growth. 
 Which was then untouched by human hands. 
 
 Along the shore, on the sandy hank, 
 At first, just a few log houses stood ; 
 And the only way to our city park, 
 Was a footpath through the tangled wood. 
 
 It was nothing strange in those early days ; 
 
 To find a deer, or perhaps a hear, 
 
 Among the pines of the forest dim ; 
 
 Where afterwards was the Court-House Square. 
 
 But the forest bowed to the woodman's stroke, 
 And of all the trees that were standing there ; 
 They left hut a single one untouched ; 
 A beautiful pine, on the Court-House Square. 
 
 'Twas a noble tree, and for many years 
 It had weathered the tempest's fiercest shock ; 
 It might have been a young sapling, when 
 The Pilgrims landed on Plymouth hock. 
 
144 
 
 It waved its welcome to Lafayette ; 
 But hardly a man is now alive, 
 Who saw the old hero when he came, 
 In Eighteen Hundred and Twenty-five. 
 
 As a stately landmark long it stood ; 
 But the thing for which it was noted most ; 
 Was, that long before there were county jails, 
 The tree had been used for a whipping-post. 
 
 Here, many a man in those stern old times ; 
 No matter if he was white, or black ; 
 Had paid the penalty of his crimes, 
 By stripes well laid on his naked back. 
 
 A colored dame to the tree was bound, 
 
 And lashed till the blood from her shoulders streamed 
 
 And trickled down on the sandy ground, 
 
 While she writhed in pain, and cursed, and screamed. 
 
 But the tree grew old and the people feared 
 That some day, the tempest too strong might blow ; 
 So the woodman came with his axe so bright, 
 And the beautiful tree was soon laid low. 
 
 1 love to stroll through the City Park, 
 Now made by the hand of art so fair ; 
 And stop to look at the place where stood 
 The old Pine Tree, on the Court-House Square. 
 
9To 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 33. To the munificence of the late Harry LeGrand Can- 
 non, our city is indebted for the beautiful chimes of 
 St. Paul's. 
 
 Page :*>(). This poem was written about the year 1857 when it 
 seemed as if the whole power of the Government 
 was used in the interests of slavery. 
 
 Page 55. This poem was written in September, 1878, and re- 
 fers to the disgraceful scene in the Senate on the 
 night when the Silver Bill was passed. 
 
 Page 50. "Minnehaha" is the Indian name for laughing 
 water. 
 
 Page 70. This Poem was read at a meeting of the citizens of 
 Burlington, in the City Hall, upon the inauguration 
 of the first line of Street Railway, Nov. Hi, 1885. 
 
 Page 101. In the second line of the first verse, the word 
 "loving" should be lovely. 
 
 Page 117. The Sportsman was written about the year 1853, in 
 imitation of the style of Vermont's humorous poet, 
 John G. Saxe. In those days, "Old Grimes and 
 his brothers, and Miss Polly Grimes," were brought 
 out in vapid and inane rhymes, paraphrased, re- 
 hashed and reiterated, till they became tiresome, if 
 not disgusting. The last two lines of the first verse 
 refer to this. 
 
148 
 
 Page 129. This song was written at the request of members of 
 the- Burlington High School. The occasion was (In 
 presentation of a beautiful souvenir to their teacher, 
 w ho was about to leave the school. 
 
 Page 132. This is the oldest poem. It was written in 1839 at 
 the age of seventeen. 
 
 Page L35. The last line of the third verse refers to a very amus- 
 ing incident in school. The phrase Hallo! Hallo! 
 which occurred in the reading lesson was innocently 
 rendered ''Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" causing a burst 
 of merriment in which the teacher himself was com- 
 pelled to join. 
 
 Page I III. "Vita ex morte." Life out of death. This was 
 written at a time when there was terrible suffering 
 in many of I he Southern States fioni the scourge of 
 yellow fever. The latter part of the third stanza 
 refers to the wholesale slaughter of colored people, 
 under the "Invisible Empere" better known as the 
 " Kn K lux outrages." In the Public Library at St. 
 Johnsbury, \'t., is the complete report of the Com- 
 mittee of Congress, consisting of thirteen volumes, 
 which shows that more than ten thousand of the col- 
 ored population of the Southern States were butch- 
 ered in cold blood. This also was the estimate of 
 General Sheridan who visited the South, to see for 
 himself. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 The Voice of Sacred Song 5 
 
 The Old College Bell 7 
 
 Prehistoric Vermont 9 
 
 Our Father-Land 12 
 
 The Teacher, the Tine Hero 13 
 
 To the Rechabites and Friends of Temperance 27 
 
 To My Mother 28 
 
 Lines 30 
 
 Once iu a Lifetime 31 
 
 The Bells of Burlington 33 
 
 To My Young Friends Everywhere :M 
 
 The Moloch of Slavery 36 
 
 The Wanderer's Thoughts of Home 37 
 
 To Mr. and Mrs. S. B 39 
 
 The Old Home 41 
 
 The Baltic Street Mission 4:! 
 
 To Rev. .Tunics Caughey 45 
 
 Is Mother There? 47 
 
 We Parted in Silence : 49 
 
 To the Christian Advocate 50 
 
 Brightness Beyond 51 
 
 Faint Not 53 
 
 To W 54 
 
 Lines Inspired by a Disgraceful Scene in the Senate of the 
 
 United States 55 
 
150 
 
 To Mr. and Mrs. E. W. P 57 
 
 Good News 58 
 
 Minnehaha 59 
 
 To D GO 
 
 An Incident in B <>1 
 
 To Eugenie W <>:> 
 
 The Spirit of Our Fathers (14 
 
 Lake Champlain 6( > 
 
 Golden Wedding 68 
 
 The Coming of the Horse Cars 70 
 
 Poem Recited at a Banquet 71 
 
 Voices of Spring 7.'! 
 
 Memorial Poem to Robert Meech Walker 74 
 
 I U ■(•( >1 lections 76 
 
 A Poem Delivered Before the Odd Fellows, September 10, 
 
 L894 78 
 
 Odd Fellowship, a Poem read before Green Mountain 
 Lodge, No. 1, at its Fiftieth Anniversary, December 
 
 21, 1894 -. 70 
 
 Laus Deo 84 
 
 A Prayer 86 
 
 The Word Was God NS 
 
 Christ and the Children Ml 
 
 Ruth 93 
 
 The Transfiguration 96 
 
 The Great Confession 07 
 
 I Write Unto You, Little Children 99 
 
 I'll Think of Thee 100 
 
 To Miss M. H 102 
 
151 
 
 Oh Decatur 10:! 
 
 Hills of Decatur 105 
 
 To an Infant 107 
 
 How I Found My Pocket-Book 108 
 
 To a Son '. 109 
 
 An Acrostic Ill) 
 
 Hoe Your Own Row Ill 
 
 Spring 112 
 
 ( 'ousting Song 113 
 
 A Story With a Moral 114 
 
 Canadian Shrewdness 1 Hi 
 
 The Sportsman 117 
 
 Sweet Lemons 119 
 
 Why the old Rooster Would Not Die 121 
 
 A True Story 123 
 
 T< > Chr< m ic Gr< iwlers I 2 1 
 
 The Filthy Weed 125 
 
 A Poem Head in a Good Templars' Lodge I2<> 
 
 To Eliza 12S 
 
 1 'resen t a t i on Song 4 . I L". t 
 
 To a Beloved Pastor 130 
 
 Reminiscences of Childhood 132 
 
 School-day Memories 133 
 
 To S. H 136 
 
 Alphabetical Acrostic 139 
 
 Vita ex Morte 140 
 
 Tl ie Pine Tree on the Court -House Square 143 
 
I IBRABY OF CONGRESS 
 
 mmmm 
 
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