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North, South, East, West, unite Glad songs to raise ! , ■'■■ S ^ .J. ^COPYRIGHTED BY LOTHROP & CO BOSTON. ^^r^^^ ^&^=^s^ ^^ 'b'i 'S. / TO MY HIGHLY ESTEEMED FRIEND AND TEACHER, MR. S. L. GERRY, THESE FEW LEAVES ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. .►J. A HUIS^DEED YEAKS AGO. ^ 'OW, subtle whispers of summer-tide ^ — ^^ Though edgings of snow still clung beside The jagged rocks, and with half-dazed look — Like a child just waked— lay tlie sleepy brodxi! Perchance 'twas the sunshine's lengthened ray, The lowing cattle, the haze that lay On the Milton hills, or that strange spell In the robin' s note — I cannot tell — But Huldali, leaving her spinning, knew And felt the restlessness, as she threw The bars of the lattice open ! Cool and sweet, As though from some pine wood's deep re- treat — With a slow, coy tread, the fresh winds crept Through the sliding bars ; on the hearth, wing- swept, (3) A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Falls the startled log in a smouldering heap, While with playful touch the breezes keep The dried bouquets on the mantel shelves In trembling rustle ; like roguish elves At hide and seek mongst the piles of wool Soft-carded, with sudden start they pull And twist the thread on the idle wheel, Tumble the c\irls of Huldah, and steal Across her cheeks to leave a flush — Borrowed, it may be, from the blush Of pink arbutus, anemones. In their out-door work of mysteries ! Then, planning fresh mischief, the rude winds stray To the pantry where ('tis Saturday) The brown bread moulding with busy hands. By her kneading-trough the mother stands ; Another gust — away flies her cap ! And Tabby starts from a half-feigned nap When fragrant mints from the old cross-beam Drop into the pan of golden cream! (4) ^ ■* ■^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. A merry laughing, and swift feet run To close the bars ere more harm is done, And yet by the lattice, a long time still The young girl lingers, as young girls will When the breath of Spring thrills heart and brain With a rapture — half-akin to pain ! But green are the buds on the willow's bough. And fragrant the sod where ox and plough Her brother — in home-spun suit of blue — Is guiding the broad, deep furrows through! A sudden rumble — a quick bright flash In the April skies ! But, closing the sash, Our little Huldah with happy smile Has turned away, and merrily, while Her wheel is spinning, she sings a strain That seems of her own glad thoughts, the re- frain: A sunlit sky, and a sunlit earth, Blue hills and a bluer river, — (s) ^^ ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Cool forest depths where the springs have birth, — Green fields where the grasses quiver ! A fair bright future — without and within — Glad Hope to my heart is bringing, For a golden thread do the grim Fates spin WJien they hear — a red-breast singing ! Another mornings just two hours old — 'Tis a Sunday morning, clear and cold; Without, the crest of a waning moon Is slipping from brow of the Night, for soon Swift heralds of Dawn the east will rend And electric flash through the whole land send! Chill breezes from marsh and lowlands creep. Rustling the trees where dead leaves sleep ; And, now and then, through the woods is heard The wandering note of some shivering bird. (6) ^ ■^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. In the little farm-house all is still Save the tick of the clock, the shrill Sharp chirp of cricket, or tramp of mice 'Twixt the loosened laths. Hark ! twice — ay, thrice ! And again it comes ! O God ! can it mean — ;N'ay — hush! there's a cry the swift footsteps between, — An echoing tread on the bridge below,— Another call ! — and, like startled doe, Half doubting still if she wakes or sleeps. The little Huldah, a-tremble, creeps Down the creaking staircase, peers without The great hall door, and catching the shout Of the flying horseman, one dread word, " The British,''^ through all the house is heard Till the old oak rafters themselves are stirred ! To his upper loft the brother springs, And forth from its hiding-place, he brings The heavy gun that his father bore At Frontenac — long years before — (7) A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. When in fierce assault he held the ground And fell, at last, with a mortal wound ! " The red-coats — ha ! they shall not say. With hullets we know but children's play! This musket — look! 'tis as firm and true As ever a British gun — bran-new! " And the proud boy soldier soothed the fears Of mother and sister, kissed the tears Away from Huldah's cheeks, and then Ean down to the green where the "minute men," Their quiet hamlet homes to save. Had gathered in phalanx, staunch and brave! Ah — well-a-day ! you all have heard That Sabbath's story — word for word — How nobly they fought at Lexington, — The short, sharp conflict farther on, — The fierce bush fighting — then the shout Of victory; and the British rout. As with broken ranks they turned and fled — The proud Lord Percy at their head ! (8) 4 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Yet what is our knowledge — tliine or mine — Of tliat one day — save tlie bare outline! In Huldali's home — why! the long hours crept As if the very pendulum slept ! The cries of alarm, the gathering feet Soon died away ; but the quiet street, The dead, dull silence everywhere, Seemed harder than anything else to bear! For man may fight, but woman must wait — And which — think you — is the easier fate? There were distant shots, and now and then The smell and the smoke of powder, when With chilling breath, and a wailing sound The fickle winds to the east veered round; Snug, sheltered, and safe from rude alarm In its quiet nook, stood the hillside farm. Yet the mother and Huldali felt a chill As they looked and listened — a sudden thrill Of quick, sharp pain — for dearer far Than our own poor lives, the beloved ones are ! (9) ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And our very safety — when theirs we know In peril must be — is an added woe! On the upper shelf, at close of day, Still folded the Sunday garments lay; The catechism's dreaded task The mother had quite forgotten to ask. And now the last red shaft in the west Had ended the hours of sacred rest For the day was reckoned (as it begun In the good old times) from sun to sun! And laying aside the Holy Book Her half-knitted stocking the mother took, While little Huldah began to reel Fresh skeins of yarn from her spinning-wheel ; But dull and mechanic her fingers ply The wonted stint, though she stands close by The lattice window where field and brook And bud and bough have the self-same look As yester-morn — yet the fairest scene Strange shadows may catch from — a day be- tween 1 *tr * ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. A weeping sky and a mourning earth, — Bleak hills and a bleaker river, — Dark forest wilds where the storms have birth, Brown fields where the dead leaves shiver; A dim, gray future — within and without — Bread Fear to my heart is bringing. For in the chill dusk, when truth is a doubt, I heard — a whip-poor-will singing ! With weight of blossom — with fruitage now, Droops the trailing vine and the loaded bough, — Through the grey old woods the flowers have gone Tn long procession — one by one ; The trembling snow-drop's pallid face Had hardly smiled ere it yielded place To violets, to twin flower bells And the sweet claytonia that dwells (II) ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. A hermit within its mossy nook ; And now, like lighted torch, by the brook Flames the cardinal flower, while golden rod With the asters' deep rich purple, nod In the meadows brown, as if the sun And shadow were melted into one ! And all this time the tide of war Whose sudden rise old Middlesex saw. That April morning — as in a dream — Has ebbed and flowed in one vast stream Throughout the land ; their white and red The bright June roses scarce had shed. When on Charlestown's height the battle came That gave to one hill, a world-wide fame! IS'or do Southern homes their hero lack, For Patrick Henry echoes back The same determined will that fired Our bold Green Mountain boys — inspired Young Ethan Allen, when the '' keys Of Canada" he vowed to seize. And at Ticonderoga show (12) ■^ ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. How a true soldier meets the foe ! With smaller file, but fiercer heart — (It may be that the touch, the smart Of rifle balls — like some wines, make Fresh thirst, that needs fresh draughts to slake ! ) Long weeks ago the " minute men " To Lexington returning, when Their service, for the time, was through, — With eager, longing eyes the few Thin ranks were scanned, by one and all Whose homes had heard that '' morning call!" And while, impatient, to the gate Our little Huldah runs to wait. The careful mother — ere it burn — Her smoking " fire cake " stops to turn, And lay upon the fresh-scoured deal (Where waits the simple, evening meal) An extra spoon, knife, fork, and plate For Nathan, for the hour is late, And hungry, faint, she knows that he — (13) ^■ ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Her poor, dear boy! — will surely be! In long-drawn line, the troops pass on Till now the scattered files have gone Far down the road ; and all alone — With altered step, with altered tone — Poor Huldah turns, to meet half-way The mother's sudden, sad dismay — " And yet 'tis likely we may find He tarried, just a while, behind — Or, mayhap, joined the troops that lay Around old Boston, for they said With Washington now at their head The ' Continentals ' meant, ere long, To enter in, with shout and song!" So Huldah and the mother try To cheer each other — drawing nigh The dying embers, as they wait To hear the footstep at the gate ! And still untouched the supper stands While steadily the old clock hands Are traveling on from hour to hour — (14) ■^ •>< A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. As if they held some subtle power And knew our hopes, fears, life and death The while they number every breath! With morning came fresh hope, fresh plan — By questioning each *' minute man," The truth, of course, would soon be shown, And it were better all were known — The very worst — than longer bear This burden of suspense and care! What did they learn ? Well, one man said The boy, he noticed, far ahead Of rank and file that morning, when The call had come for ''minute men;" Another said, ''He fought right well — A little hero — till he fell ! " " Fell ? " Huldah's lips grew white with fear; The mother gasped, " We did not hear, — We did not know — " " Nay ! don't mistake," The blunt lips added, "lines must break In fight, you know; we fall, we rise, (15) ^ ^ T A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And I am sure these very eyes The brave lad saw again, ere long, Right in the thickest of the throng!" " Yes! up and fighting!" said a third, "He sprang as lightly as a bird From that first wound ! "—but then, what then? Well, really it was doubtful when The fierce bush fighting came, to tell What happened — some ran on, some fell, And some had tarried to defend The broken columns at the end ; While others hid in ambush, more, However, had pressed on before To hasten the retreat ; blockade The city— they themselves had stayed Most willingly; but calls at home So urgent grew that they had come, To be " at minute's warning," still All ready — with a right good will ! With aching heart, word after word. As in a dream, the mother heard ; (i6) * ■^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And Huldah, as she listened, grew (Such sudden change our grief and pain Will sometimes work — like summer rain I) A woman, strong to bear, to do ; Son, daughter, both to one whose need That strange, sad day was great indeed ! Amethyst skies, and chrysoprase hills Where the lengthening sunbeam creepeth. Murmur of south winds, babble of rills, Whistling of orioles, bob-o-link trills, Yet soundly the little bud sleepeth. Dull, leaden skies where the heavy clouds lower, Hills the glad sunshine forsaketh. Raw, piercing winds and a chill, drenching shower. Sobbing of pines where ^he bleating herds cower, Yet, look you ! the little bud waketh 1 (17) ^ -^4 A HUNDRED YEARS AGO, O dreary winter ! Just outside The city still, the troops abide; For though, weeks since, the frozen bay Temptations offered to essay The promised, long-deferred attack. Yet wise war councils held them back A little longer still, till men, Stores, ammunition came, and then More confident the raid would be, And crowned with surer victory; So reasoned Washington, and so The patriots resolved to do. Meanwhile, young Burr and Arnold toil Through pathless wilds of Maine, to spoil Quebec, and there unite, at length. To give the New York troops fresh strength; And, midst discouragements untold, Montgomery, with ardor bold. Showed how a strong will could prevail The " Heights of Abraham" to scale! (i8) ^ *u A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. How little, too, in victory's hour, The conqueror feels Death's vaunted power! On leaden wing the months crept on ; The cold, white drifts were almost gone, And through the lattice bars once more Came hints of summer days in store; Yet still no tidings could be had. From any quarter, of the lad ! One hope, and only one, remained ; If entrance should, at last, be gained Within the city — who could tell ? He might be there — alive and well ! So little Huldah strives to cheer The mother, and allay her fear, The while her busy fingers ply Their daily tasks, and bravely try By ready work of ready hand To help the patriotic band; The mother, too, would do her part Although with very Aveary heart; (19) ^ ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And many a needy soldier knows Her knitted jackets, mittens, hose! A single niglit — and lo! the sun Next morning showed more labor done, " Than my vast army, I believe, In a whole month's time could achieve!" The British general exclaimed. Of his own laggard troops ashamed. Eleven days from that March night, And Boston gloried in the sight Of streets that knew no more the tread Of Tory or the royal red! And while the British fleet still lay At anchor, just outside the bay, A new, strange banner met their eyes, Of thirteen stripes against the skies ! From our own grief and misery Springs the sweet balm of sympathy; And burdened souls, because they know (20) ^. ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Life's bitterness, are quick to show That Christian charity which is So rare in such a world as this ! And when the thought had come, that he • The lost one — mongst the sick might be. Though never word, trace, sight or sound Of tlieiv beloved could be found. Yet hearing there the piteous cries Of one poor sufferer, who lies Just at Death's door — what do they care Though British uniform he wear ? With soothing words, with gentle touch, That to the sick one mean so much ! The mother's tender, loving hand His burning cheeks and forehead fanned ; Brought dainty bits from off her shelf, Delicious comfits she herself From luscious fruits prepared, as no One else (so jSTathan saidj could do! And when the soldier, half awake, (He came from Devonshire, it seemed, (21) r A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Though troops had come with Admiral Howe, And though the feeble patriot band Was suffering loss, on sea, on land — Behold ! a tremor shakes the throne Of monarchs — wheresoever known! As Declaration — loud and clear — Of Independence, greets the ear ! And a new Nation takes her stand, United — heart and soul and hand ! A race full-grown, full-armed, indeed — As in old classic lore, we read How the prolific brain of Zeus A perfect Pallas could produce ; And how a legion on the plain Of Thebes arose, from dragon slain! But ah! not yet may conflict cease — Since armor is for war, not peace — And Liberty so dear, so rare, The precious seal of blood must bear! Now at Long Island — at White Plains — With many losses, many gains, (26) ^ ^< * A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. The contest rages fierce and strong, Wliile shouts of victory belong, Now to the royal flag, and now To bars and stars, whose colors show The heavens above, the striijes below ! With eager ear that autumn day, The British soldier as he lay Half-sleeping, half-awake, had heard The neighbors when they brought the word To Huldah — tarrying the while To catch the sunshine of her smile ! A crow's sharp " caw," and plaintive note Of ''pewee" through the still air float, And from the purpling grapes, a breath (Like that the sweet J«iy day-lily hath) Comes through the open sash ; and now A red leaf from the maple bough Has dropped upon the sill ; a bee. All honey-laden, and a free. Bright butterfly flit in and out; (27) •^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And from tlie orchard comes the shout Of children, as they shake the loaded tree! O rich ingathering time ! The earth In spring-tide, to maintain the birth Of myriad buds, perforce must drain The air of stimuli ; and brain, Breath, muscle, feel in turn the need Of life absorbed by germ and seed. But autumn comes with garnered store, — The teeming earth o'erflows once more, And clasping her full hand, we take The quick, magnetic thrills that make It bliss to breathe — ay! ecstasy As in our childhood — just to be! And so that bright October day, While listlessly the sick man lay And let his thoughts in quiet rhythm Blend with the scene — a sudden chrism Seemed falling on him as the dew; And every nerve, vein, fibre, knew The tide had turned — the open door (28) ^ r-^ ■* A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Of life, not death, was his once more ! With half a smile, yet half a sigh, ('Twere easier then to say good-by To time and sense — so near had come His spirit to the heavenly home!) He glanced about him, raised his head, And as he caught the busy tread Of feet below, and then the song Of Huldah at her work, a throng Of happy thoughts filled heart and brain, And love of life crept back again ! SONG. Only a brave old maple, Shorn of its scarlet and gold. And traced on the scroll of sunset As a hand-writing black and bold ! A low, wailing wind frets the branches ; The dead leaves start up in surprise, (29) * *h * A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Till at length in the hush of the gloaming The dryad^s sad monody dies. O desolate tree in the meadow, With pleading hands stretched to the sky, Bo you know the glad hopes of a spring-tide Asleep in your folded arms lie ? And that never a breath of the Storm King, And never a drift of the snow, Can rifle the hud from its casket. Or loose the firm anchor below ? ^Bide patiently then the bleak winter, And change the sad wail to a song ; Bear up, for the robins and bluebirds And south winds are coming, ere long ! An empty room ! what could it mean ? Nay! could it be that under screen (30) ■>¥< A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Of iiiglit, and, mayliap, from the dread Of prison bars, that lie liad fled — The British soldier ? It is true, These convalescent weeks, they knew How restlessly he paced the floor, But then, they thought it nothing more Than, in impatience, any one Recovering slowly might have done. Yet here upon the table lay His watch and purse — a note to say This strange departure he could not As yet, explain to any, but Though words — deeds seemed in truth too rude To show his fervent gratitude — A debt to their sweet charity The life they saved henceforth should be ! Silent and soft and white and slow — On hill, stream, meadow — falls the snow! A hush without, a hush within, (3X) *- A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. A cold, drear world where all has been So full of color, warmth, and glow ! And Huldah — looking, listening — feels A new, strange loneliness that steals The dimpling smile — the song half-way — (As the bleak north winds chide and stay With chilling breath and frowning look The rippling laughter of the brook!) And still with many a turn and phase The fierce war spirit stirs and sways The land that waits while Freedom's breath Seems wavering 'twixt life and death! The battles on the Jersey shore And, now and then, the cannon's roar From fleet and fort still keep alive The patriot's hope, while bravely strive The poor starved troops with Washington — A host himself ! — to spur them on ! Old Valley Forge — the story yet Comes with fresh thrill, and eyes are wet (32) A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. With tears unbid — what time we read Of bitter siifferinig, bitter need, All borne so uncomplainingly By those whose eyes might never see The boon they bought us — Liberty ! Midst disappointment, ills untold — Tories at home, and traitors bold — With massacre at Wyoming An added horror yet to bring! Still Burgoyne's surrender f aimed To flame again hope's dying brand, A flame that bright and brighter grew When in Manhattan's harbor lay At anchor, one glad summer day. With pennons red and white and blue. The long-expected, brave French fleet. And Count D'Estaing commanding it! O glad bright morning on the bay ! O sad, white dawning, as one ray — (33) A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. One only — pierced the narrow slip Of window, in the prison ship — The ^^ Jersey ^^ — worst of all throughout The waters of the Wallabout! Stifled and starved the prisoners lie, A wailing mass of misery, And living sufferers envy those Whose eyes are first in death to close ! O righteous Heaven! one day will show Full justice to all men, we know; But while the good still suffer wrong, And weak hands writhe beneath the strong, The cry must rise, ''How long? How long?" Among the prisoners, one man Creeps to the light, and dim eyes scan With wistful look the harbor, and The long, low line of sea-girt land; How strange the bright, blue water seems ! How cheerily the sunlight gleams On snow-white sail, on sandy shore, (34) ^ *f -* A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And fresh, green turf where nevermore His feet may tread — a man, we said, But no ! a hoy — for, look ! liis head Is golden yet — and though the trace Of suffering has aged his face It is — ah yes ! we know it now, The same bright eye, the same fair brow The mother kissed that morning, when Tlie call had come for " minute men " ! Poor Nathan ! Oh ! how far away It seems — that one, short April day — When hand to hand he fought until There came the sense of something chill On hand and foot — a blank — and then The British ambulances, when He woke and heard the questioning jeer, "Why! how came this young rebel here!" We found him wounded, in the road. And took him, since the "red coat" showed — Our own, we thought — but " buff and blue" (35) ■►i A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. A Sturdier rebel never knew! " *' Ah well! they tried in vain to make Me compromise, or base oath take ! And when they could not as a sjjy Make use of me, they thought to try Fresh cruelties and quite subdue Me — but they little knew The patriotic blood that flowed Within my throbbing veins, and showed The father, grandsire, who in strife Of other days had yielded life With hero spirit ! — Well — ah well I They did their best, but could not quell My rebel ardor — years of pain, Imprisonment — and what the gain ? To fall were glorious on the field, But this is pitiful — to yield One's life by slow degrees, and know That it is naught to friend or foe ! And yet if I could only see The dear home faces, willingly (36) ^ ■* A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. With my poor comrades they might lay Me down to rest — this very day ! " So thought poor aSTathan as he heard, " Bring out your dead ! "— the morning word ! A hand upon the outer latch — A closer crowding through the hatch ! Who was it ? Some one else to share Their woe ? But no ! the tall form there — " Good God ! it is the very face I fought with in that narrow place Beside the road!" and Nathan turned To find conviction — all — confirmed, As pressing through the wailing crowd The British soldier spake aloud His name, and grasping then his hand. Without a greeting, said: "We stand — Though in a very different place — Once more, my lad, face close to face ! We fought right well that April day, But fiercest foes, I've heard them say, (37) ^ — * ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Make firmest friends, so let it be Henceforward, boy, with tliee and me! For life itself, and far above This breath of ours, the fire of love! For all the sweetness of your home A debtor to you I have come ! Yet never words of mine can tell What bitter, bitter sorrow fell That day when, thinking of the face I covered in that dreary place With my own cloak, the knowledge came — (It may have been the likeness there To your sweet Huldah's brow and hair) My foe — their loved one — 'tis the same! Long months, since then, now here, now there, I've sought "the lost one" everywhere — For signed, you see, by our good king Your pardon and release I bring — And, since they wait, why ! let us come Without delay to that dear home!" (38) * *u »J« A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Face to face we stood that day, Fire of hatred burning, Till it seemed to stolid clay Both our hearts were turning ! Pain has stepped between, since then. Crushed the clay to powder — Would Love make all new again If we but allowed her ? Five times the winter snows have Iain On field and river, njDland, plain. Now here, now there, the tide of war North, South, East, West, alternate saw — But hearts grew strong when helping hands Were stretched from far-off, foreign strands. Pulaski, noble La Fayette, And Kosciusko — even yet Upon their generous deeds we dwell And to our eager children tell ! (39) «*■ ■* A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Success, defeat — it was the same Old. tale — with just a change of name ! Until, one bright October morn. An unexpected joy was born; And to its depths each patriot soul Is stirred, while swift the tidings roll, ''Cornwallis has surrendered! Eing The bells in every town, and bring The good news into every home — To you and yours sweet Peace has come!" And, ere the echoes die away. Let us one short, swift moment stray To Middlesex where field and brook — The very farm-yard — have a look As if some sudden joy had come To nestle in the hillside home. A sudden gust of wind that steals The curtain from its place reveals. Within the little 'Mvceping room," (Most often doomed to cold and gloom !) A lily here, a rose-bud there, (40) ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Arranged with dainty tliouglit and care ! And in their Sunday garments clad, The merry lass, the bashful lad,» The dame with cap-box in her hand. Come up the path, and now they stand In quiet groups within ; while two, (A manly form with English face; A girlish figure full of grace. Yet freedom too, as if she knew Her birthright!) joining hands repeat, The promises, the pledges sweet — '' To love, to cherish — heart for heart — In sickness, health — till Death us part ! ' Up from the meadows, down from the hills Snatched by the breezes, caught by the rills Hark I to the wonderful chorus ! Warfare has ended in lohite truce of peace. Jealousies, hatred, rivalries, cease When Love her elixir breathes o'er us ! (41) ■•J. •**■ ^ A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. And still as the years with their changes roll by, Breaking each harrier — strengthening each tie ; Union grows stronger and stronger ; Nation to nation is drawing more nigh — And since of one language, aim, ancestry — why Should we cherish old enmities longer ? (42) *■ ^^M ^ CSiCC ^ orcc e <^cc c: CLCCC cc ce C cccc <: cac ccccc - crcc cac C C ^(u <£: arc CCJC ^ic:^^ . .r^"^ '^ c