<W<,/,y >,'/.( JM. 
 UNrrElT STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
y"3)z7T 
 
 Kiitcrcd according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S71. by 
 
 BELLE W. COOKE. 
 
 In the office of tlie Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
PED 
 
 I CATION . 
 
 TO MY UNCLE 
 
 le^Jiir, 
 
 THE FRIEND AND HELPER 
 
 Of 
 
 MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Invocation 11 
 
 Our Home . . . ■ 12 
 
 PART I . 
 Partings 15 
 
 PART II. 
 War 31 
 
 PART III. 
 Cares 55 
 
 P A R T I V . 
 
 Gloom and Gleam 79 
 
 PART V. 
 Trial 95 
 
 PART VI. 
 Tears and Victory 117 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 MEMORIES. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 My Fatheh's Grave 137 
 
 Lines to my Boy 140 
 
 Partings 143 
 
 To A Little One 146 
 
 Broken Vows 147 
 
 Crossing the Plains 149 
 
 A Reverie 152 
 
 With a Moss Wreath . . . . . 155 
 
 We were Married To-day 156 
 
 For an Album 158 
 
 COLTITING at the GATE . 160 
 
 PICTURES. 
 
 At Eventide 165 
 
 The Coming Storm 166 
 
 Shadows 168 
 
 Kisses 170 
 
 Bereaved 172 
 
 Frost Lessons 174 
 
 The Maid and Dove 175 
 
 Hill Tops 177 
 
 Thoughts 180 
 
 My Friend 182 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Waiting ..,-... 184 
 Sunset on the Ocean . . . . .186 
 
 Snow Pictures . . . . . 188 
 
 My Love 191 
 
 A Report ...... 192 
 
 The Farmer and the MrsE .... 194 
 
 Autumn Birds ...... 197 
 
 Wind of the Sea ...... 199 
 
 Home Pictures ...... 203 
 
 Window Glimpses ...... 206 
 
 Moods 208 
 
 Dew Drops ....... 209 
 
 WOODLAND VOICES. 
 
 Summer Rain ...... 213 
 
 To the Meadow Lark ..... 215 
 
 Song op the Summer Night . . 217 
 
 Violets ....... 220 
 
 Crocus Buds ...... 222 
 
 Snow Birds ....... 223 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The Helping Hand ..... 227 
 
 Patience . . . . . . . 229 
 
 The Princess ...... 230 
 
 Meeting at the Gate ..... 231 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Spinning ....... 333 
 
 A Sonnet ....... 334 
 
 Forbidden Fruit ..... 235 
 
 Shining Ones • • . . . . 239 
 
 Custom ...... 241 
 
 l'esperance ...... 247 
 
 Nothing but Thee ..... 248 
 
 Fame ........ 251 
 
TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
INVOCATION. 
 
 Spirit of Truth ! in all I undertake, 
 
 To Thee I come I Oh I bless me in my doing ; 
 In every effort that my hand shall make, 
 
 Shine, Thou, upon the path it is pursuing. 
 
 Mine is the story of a troubled time, 
 
 When peace, affrighted, fled from our dominions ; 
 When Fraud and Discord, Treachery and Crime, 
 
 Walked under cover of a man's opinions. 
 
 Until, at length, dread War, with all his band 
 
 Of painful Deaths and Wounds and Desolation, 
 Came trooping over this once favored land, 
 ' And threatened to destroy our glorious nation. 
 
 And many loving hearts were called to yield 
 
 For their dear country's service priceless treasure ; 
 
 To meet the foe upon the battle-lield. 
 
 And suffer wrongs and sorrows beyond measure. 
 
12 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 OUR HOME. 
 
 Many pleasant homes there are 
 
 Scattered over all our land, 
 But we think our own most fair, 
 
 Wheresoever it may stand ; 
 So my memory fondly pictures one 
 Which to me seems fairest 'neath the sun. 
 
 'Tis a green and quiet dale, 
 
 Gladdened by a silvery rill. 
 From the bosom of the vale 
 
 Roundeth up a tree-crowned hill, 
 And, close nestled on its sloping side. 
 Sits our pure white cottage, like a bride. 
 
 Elwyn is the name it bears ; 
 
 ' Tis the name my father bore ; 
 And the Summer's balmy airs 
 
 With sweet roses wreathe it o'er, 
 
OUR HOME. 13 
 
 While a beauteous picture spreads full wide 
 Vale, and stream, and hill, on either side. 
 
 Toward the East the valley lies, 
 
 Through a rift between low hills 
 Slides the stream, and onward hies 
 
 Swift to greet a thousand rills 
 Mingling in Connecticut's blue tide ; 
 Thence, calmly to the sea the waters glide. 
 
 In this pleasant, quiet home, 
 
 Passed my childhood's early days ; 
 
 And its memory has become 
 Dearer than my fondest praise 
 
 Ever can by choicest words portray ; 
 
 Bright as landscape seen by sunset ray. 
 
 Growii to man and womanhood, 
 
 Arthur, Sylvia, and Grace ; 
 Brother, sisters, thus we stood, 
 
 Thus our ages gave us place : 
 And my blue-eyed sister was most fair, 
 With cheeks of bloom, and rings of golden hair. 
 
14 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And my brother, brown and tall, 
 Noblest man, and handsomest. 
 
 Such he seemed to me of all ; 
 "Knowing little of the rest. 
 
 As for me, I was so small and plain. 
 
 Seen once, one seldom thought of me again. 
 
 To our mother's tender care 
 
 We were left in early years ; 
 We might well a father spare. 
 
 With devotion such as hers. 
 These, the living treasures of our home. 
 Kept our hearts from every wish to roam. 
 
PART I 
 
 PARTIN(>S. 
 
PARTINGS. 17 
 
 I am lying 'neath the shadows 
 
 Of the tall and pointed firs, 
 
 In the Autum's Indian summer. 
 
 Hearing every leaf that stirs ; 
 
 Gazing at the satin lining 
 
 Hung in puiFs across the sky, 
 
 Mellowing the golden sunshine 
 
 Down to suit my dreamy eye. 
 
 As I lie, with face turned upward 
 
 Toward the place where sunset smiles, 
 
 I can see a shining pathway 
 
 Opening in the forest aisles ; 
 
 And I rove along its splendor 
 
 Till a wall of solid blue 
 
 Shuts across my gorgeous pathway, 
 
 With no passage opening through. 
 
 Thus we wander on in childhood. 
 
 In some pleasure-lighted path, 
 
 Till a wall, abrubt and solid, 
 
18 TEAKS AND VKTORY. 
 
 Ends our hopes in sudden deatli. 
 So, alas ! my happy dreamings 
 Ended in a real night ; 
 When the sun of peace was darkened, 
 Hid by war-clouds from our sight ; 
 When my brave and noble brother 
 Left our home so desolate, 
 Answering to the earliest summons, 
 Went to dare a soldier's fate. 
 Oh ! it seemed that at that parting 
 My young soul, untried before, 
 Suddenly so plunged in sorrow, 
 Rose matured to meet the hour. 
 ' When I felt my weeping sister 
 Clinging to my trembling arm. 
 Heard my aged mother praying 
 God to shield her son from harm, 
 Saw my precious only brother, 
 Go to meet an angry foe — 
 Was it then a time to falter ? 
 Ah ! my spirit answered, No ! 
 Though my pathway had been gilded 
 
PAETINGS. 19 
 
 By the purest light of love, 
 And no cares had ever crossed it, 
 All the spirit's strength to prove ; 
 Now, the dark and nigged mountains 
 Lay before my untried feet, 
 Should I turn and shrink at danger ? 
 Rather let me bravely meet. 
 
 Once my heart had sorely tried me, 
 
 When I met his last fond glance ; 
 
 But I thought of one beside me 
 
 Who would miss him more, perchance ; 
 
 She was Evalene, an orphan 
 
 Left most desolate and lone ; 
 
 His the dearest heart, and only 
 
 One, that she could call her own. 
 
 She was delicate and graceful, 
 
 And her fair and gentle face 
 
 Ever shone with love's pure radiance, 
 
 And its melting tenderness. 
 
 Seeming like the young moon's presence, 
 
 When low down the sunset sky, 
 
W TEAKS AND \aCTOKY. 
 
 Hung above the Western tree tops, 
 
 Her frail beauty greets the eye. 
 
 She, so sweet and modest looking, 
 
 Never dared to own her love, 
 
 Till the night of trial coming, 
 
 Served its strength and power to prove. 
 
 See the spider's tiny clothes-lines. 
 Stretched from forks of weed and briar 
 When the sun is shining brightest, 
 We can seldom see them there ; 
 But the cold and gloomy darkness 
 Feathers them with silvery white ; 
 And new beauties are discovered. 
 By the frosty breath of night. 
 
 So affection's silken meshes 
 Twined around her youthful heart, 
 And their silent, secret influence 
 Was concealed by maiden art ; 
 But the night, so cold and dreary. 
 That had darkened all her soul. 
 
PARTINGS. 21 
 
 Clothed her love with fairy frost-work, 
 And revealed to us the whole. 
 
 Oh ! how much of love is buried 
 Often, in the heart's deep caves, 
 Never to assert its power 
 Till the loved are in their graves ; 
 Then the fire will burst its fetters, 
 Fed by sorrow's fruitless sighs. 
 And the widowed soul sit dumb, till 
 On her funeral pile she dies. 
 
 Life is gloomy in its grandeur, 
 For its wealth is rarely seen. 
 Hidden in the darkened chambers, 
 All its gems are treasured in ; 
 And each owner, like a miser. 
 Hoards his jewels all alone, 
 Till the lid is closed upon them, . 
 And the wealth forever flovm. 
 Better wear our heart-gems daily. 
 
22 TEARS AND \T[CTORY. 
 
 Live upon our richest store, 
 
 Than to shine in gilded tinsel. 
 
 Eating husks forevermore. 
 
 Do not keep the best all hidden, 
 
 Lest you cast your pearls away ; 
 
 Shun the false life ; live the true one ; 
 
 Surely 'tis the better way. 
 
 There are those, I do not doubt it. 
 
 Who might scorn your purest thought ; 
 
 Who, not knowing truth from falsehood. 
 
 All your gold might pass for naught ; 
 
 But I trust poor human nature 
 
 Always has a nook for love, 
 
 And your worth all will acknowledge 
 
 When sincerity you prove. 
 
 All our firmest friends, and truest. 
 
 Are the ones to whom we 've shown 
 
 The best treasures of our nature, 
 
 If we love not self alone. 
 
 Always when a crushing sorrow 
 Comes upon us, in its might, 
 
PARTINGS. 2S 
 
 We may gain more strength by striving 
 
 To make others' burdens light. 
 
 So I found my own powers growing, 
 
 When myself I thought of least ; 
 
 And the more I worked for others, 
 
 So much more the need increased. 
 
 As I strove to cheer my mother. 
 
 And to till my brother's place ; 
 
 I became our ship's strong anchor, 
 
 While the fairy sail was Grace ; 
 
 She w^as never made for weeping, 
 
 All her tears exhaled like mist ; 
 
 For her smiles were beaming sunshine, 
 
 That no grief could long resist. 
 
 I could keep my brow unwrinkled. 
 
 When my heart was still with dread ; 
 
 Often did I dream of battle. 
 
 Dream I saw my brother dead. 
 
 And, at morning, when I wakened, 
 
 Cold, and shuddering from fears, 
 
 I would force my heart to calmness. 
 
 And would smother back my tears. 
 
24 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Some may think my fears were weakness, 
 But I know my love w^as strength ; 
 And I found, as months passed safely, 
 I became more calm at length. 
 Still I could not hear of battle 
 Where my brother might have been, 
 But my heart grew cold and heavy 
 As an iron shell within ; 
 And I wandered, like one dreaming. 
 Round about my household task, 
 Till I had the question answered 
 That I hardly dared to ask. 
 
 Thus did Fear, a gloomy raven. 
 Following at every step, 
 Preying on my very vitals. 
 Chase the bloom from cheek and lip ; 
 Till at length, one day in Summer, 
 Great dishonor to our host 
 Came, with panic and disaster 
 When Manassas' field was lost. 
 Then my pride and courage bore me 
 
PARTESTGS. 25 
 
 Up above the fear and dread, 
 
 And I craved the strength of manhood ; 
 
 Power to strike the traitor's dead. 
 
 For I felt our country's honor 
 
 Must be kept, whate'er the cost, 
 
 And I wished for many brothers 
 
 Who might go to swell our host. 
 
 Well ! my sister had a lover, 
 
 Victor was his noble name, 
 
 And the fire of patriotism 
 
 In his heart had burst to flame. • 
 
 So he came to her and told her 
 
 He could never stand and see 
 
 All the glorious light departing 
 
 From the banner of the free ; 
 
 All the future of his country 
 
 Shrouded in a pall of gloom, "^ 
 
 While he basked in love's bright sunshine, 
 
 In a war-endangered home. 
 
 I had never thought to see her 
 
 Brave and hopeful, as she was. 
 
26 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Willing to give up her idol, 
 Noble gift, to noble cause ; 
 But she told him, e'er he left her, 
 She would be his wedded wife, 
 So, if wounded in the battle. 
 He survived the deadly strife. 
 She might come to him and lighten 
 All his load of grief and pain. 
 And if he escaped, would welcome 
 Him, with rapture, home again. 
 He endeavored to persuade her 
 'T would be better far to wait, 
 Than to wed a common soldier. 
 With his hard, uncertain fate. 
 But she would not hear objections : 
 She was his, in heart, she said. 
 And he could not leave her happy, 
 As he jnight if they were wed. 
 
 So the morning that he left us, 
 She, so pale and sad and calm. 
 
PARTINGS. 27 
 
 Stood and took the vows upon her. 
 Leaning on his manly arm. 
 
 In om- little pleasant parlor, 
 
 Circled by a few fond hearts, 
 
 Stood these two, brave souls ! both heroes. 
 
 Meaning well to act their parts. 
 
 He, to leave her, best and dearest. 
 
 But a few brief hours a bride. 
 
 For the bloody field of battle, 
 
 With no loved one by his side. 
 
 Taking, in night's gloomy shadows, 
 
 By some distant, lone, camp-fire, 
 
 To his arms, pale, ghost-Kke danger 
 
 For his bride, instead of her. 
 
 She, to seek her quiet chamber, 
 Hung with visions of his face, 
 Which in dreams would smile upon her, 
 Ever cheating her embrace. 
 And to feel the dreadful gnawing 
 
28 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Of that hungry fiend, suspense, 
 Till it seemed the lengthened hours 
 All a lifetime might condense. 
 Oh ! it made my heart ache sadly. 
 When I thought what she must bear ; 
 But bright hope seemed glad to cheer her, 
 Making all the future fair. 
 
 Then, at last, the hour for parting 
 Came to them that summer morn ; 
 And a few of us went with them, 
 Down the hill-side, toward the town. 
 There had been a gentle shower, 
 Bright'ning all the earth and sky, 
 And the fleecy clouds were lying 
 Piled above the hill- tops, high : 
 Kain-drops lying on the clover, 
 Each, so like a milky pearl. 
 Seemed fair Nature's bridal present 
 To the simple country girl. 
 So I told her, smiling sadly. 
 As she picked the clover there, 
 
PABTINGS. 29 
 
 But the pearl-drops quickly vanished, 
 Though her touch seemed light as air, 
 Thus, Alas ! I feared the pleasure 
 Of this happy morn would go, 
 Ere her hand might grasp her treasure, 
 'Twould be shattered by a blow. 
 But I kept my dark forebodings 
 Shut up closely in my breast ; 
 Save one saw in flitting shadows 
 O'er the face the soul's unrest. 
 
 " N^ow, my Victor," said my sister, 
 " You will write me oft and long, 
 Tell me every joy and sorrow — 
 And you know that little song, 
 
 * Weeping, sad and lonely, 
 Hopes and fears how vain ; 
 Yet praying, when this cruel war is over. 
 Praying that we meet again,' 
 
 This will be the song I'm singing. 
 And the prayer that I shall pray ; 
 
30 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Know my thoughts are with you alway 
 
 When I'm waking, night or day." 
 
 Then he clasped her to his bosom, 
 
 Telhng her she need not fear ; 
 
 Though he ne'er might come to bless her, 
 
 She would be forever dear : 
 
 That the Father kind and gracious. 
 
 Should the storm of sorrow come. 
 
 Promises the wind to temper, 
 
 To the shorn and tender lamb. 
 
 " So, my precious one, I leave you ; 
 
 Hope and pray that I may be 
 
 Blest of God, whose arm is fighting 
 
 With the banner of the Free." 
 
 He was gone ! and we, in sadness, 
 Turned our steps toward home again ; 
 Feeling that its old time gladness 
 Only deepened present pain. 
 
I* i^R T II 
 
 WAR. 
 
WAR. 
 
 Oh, Liberty ! fair child of Western birth, 
 The honored offspring of our Washington, 
 Fame of whose beauty spreads o'er all the earth, 
 Thy ripened womanhood has just begun. 
 Thou, like Minerva, fabled goddess, sprung 
 From out the brain of him who fathered thee, 
 And every nation of the earth has hung 
 Upon thy life its future destiny. 
 War o'er thy cradle hung his smoky clouds, 
 And sang his death-songs for thy lullaby ; 
 His minions came, with envious hate, in crowds. 
 And sought with fiendish shouts to drown thy cry 
 But round thee stood a firm and faithful band. 
 Single of heart, and strong in God's own might ; 
 And thou, baptized in blood, wert raised to stand 
 The immortal champion of Equal Right. 
 Time passed ; thy youthful beauty grew apace ; 
 
34 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And the poor fugitives from distant lands, 
 Charmed by the stories of thy matchless grace, 
 Came with their gifts of honest hearts and hands : 
 And over all our hills and valleys rang 
 The cheerful shout of hearty Labor's voice, 
 And Happiness on pleasant hearthstones sang. 
 And bade the children of thy home rejoice. 
 
 But, in the sunny South, a monster grew ; 
 Her form was hideous, serpent-like and dark, 
 From Avarice and Pride her life she drew, 
 And on her victims Woe had set his mark. 
 Yet this foul creature sought to gain the throne, 
 And crush to earth thy form. Oh ! Liberty, 
 With slavery's chains, that she might rule alone, 
 And fill our happy land with misery. 
 And there were those who bore the forms of men, 
 Who worshiped at this wanton's hellish shrine ; 
 Who took her gold, the price of souls, and then 
 Dared to declare her origin divine ! 
 Was ever blasphemy more bold than this ? 
 When God's great law, and thine, Oh, Liberty ! 
 
WAK. 35 
 
 Which brings to us our purest happiness, 
 Is naught but love for all humanity. 
 
 Time passed again ; and still the monster grew, 
 
 And spread her skirts o'er many a blooming State, 
 
 While in her bosom, safely hid from view, 
 
 She nursed the serpent forms of Strife and Hate ; 
 
 But like a mother, too indulgent, far. 
 
 Fair Liberty was tottering on her throne, 
 
 While traitors sought her treasures to unbar, 
 
 And thought by kisses to obtain her crown. 
 
 Then to our land a fearful hour came 
 
 That filled all hearts with dread of scenes to come, 
 
 A shot was fired, and sent with careful aim, 
 
 And liberty was wounded in her home ! 
 
 The worm that stings the hand that gives it food 
 
 Is crushed with scorn and pitiless contempt, 
 
 And should the child, that seeks its mother's blood, 
 
 From blame, disaster, ruin, be exempt ? 
 
 'No ! let the storm of vengeance fill the air 
 
 With bolts of death, and lightning strokes of steel ; 
 
3b TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And from the foe, the clouds of dark despair, 
 Each glimmering ray of sunny hope conceal. 
 With such a home and such a country blest. 
 If proud Ambition's sons are not content, 
 Then home, and country, friends, and all the rest 
 Of life's best treasures should be from them rent. 
 
 The giant Treason had come forth to war ; 
 He was the eldest son of Slavery, 
 And though his form all patriot hearts abhor, 
 He was the boasted flower of chivalry. 
 And who, of all our armies, would go forth ? 
 Was there no David who would meet the foe ? 
 One who, by faith in God, and conscious worth, 
 Was strong, and dared to deal the avenging blow ? 
 Alas ! that Hate and Strife should ever reign. 
 That Love must fly, with bleeding heart and hand, 
 And Mercy's self should supplicate in vain 
 The traitorous foe to spare their native land ! 
 Fiercely they plunged into the horrid fray. 
 And blood streamed out like rivers to the sea. 
 And Hate brought face to face, in dread array. 
 
WAR. St 
 
 Brothers who sat on the same mother's knee. 
 The bird of Victory seemed in changeful mood, 
 And hovered o'er the banners of each tost ; 
 And still we spared base Slavery anaher brood, 
 Till our own liberty was well-nigh lost ! 
 Then we, Delilah-like, sought out their strength ; 
 When that was shorn, " blind Samson " was our prey, 
 And Yicksburg, granted to our arms at length, 
 Increased the honors of a glorious day. 
 
 T was tkere my noble brother fought so well ; 
 In that long siege that sorely tried our host. 
 While many a brave and daring soldier fell. 
 He lived, the victor's pride and fame to boast. 
 And often to our quiet home there came. 
 With messages of love most highly prized, 
 The swelling echoes of his General's fame. 
 And thrilling tales of horrors undisguised. 
 And some of these I will repeat, that you. 
 My gentle reader, may the knowledge gain. 
 How bravely patient, and how strong to do 
 Men are, when Faith and Right make duty plain. 
 
38 TEAES AND VICTORY 
 
 •^ L E T T E E S . 
 
 " Dearest sister," wrote my brothei'^ 
 " We are here, and doing well, 
 Near the Mississippi river ; 
 When to leave, I cannot tell. 
 I am lying at an out-post, 
 And Lake Providence its name. 
 And we have the loveliest weather » 
 That with spring-time ever came. 
 Oh ! the forests and the mosses, 
 So luxuriant and bright ! 
 Every stroll I take among them 
 Fills me with a new delight. 
 All the soldiers feel their beauty, 
 While a happy stillness reigns 
 Through the wood and o'er the water, 
 Telling naught of battle plains. 
 All the limpid lake is dotted 
 With the soldiers' tiny crafts. 
 
WAR. 
 
 m 
 
 Hulls of plaiilK, with sails of blanket. 
 Or rude log-s are bound in rafts. 
 Wagon beds are caulked and tightened. 
 And by oars propelled they roam. 
 Looking like the water-spiders. 
 Skimming o'er the ponds at home. 
 We are going to fight for Yicksburg, 
 With a hundred thousand men ; 
 And, although awhile we're quiet, 
 You will hear from us again. 
 
 Plans were made, which have been thwarted. 
 
 By the weakness of one man ; 
 
 Oh, these artful Southern women, 
 
 How they gull us, when they can ! 
 
 Grant had left a post important, 
 
 Full of stores, for future need. 
 
 With a Colonel, whom he trusted 
 
 To his charge would give good heed ; 
 
 But the gay and gallant Colonel, 
 
 Fascinated by dark eyes, 
 
40 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Gave himself to scenes of pleasure, 
 Never thinking what a prize 
 His command and commissary 
 Were to those who flattered him ; 
 Gave himself to wine and feasting, 
 Till both wits and eyes were dim ; 
 Then, when least suspecting danger. 
 Of his manly strength all shorn, 
 The Philistines were upon him, 
 In the forces of Yan Dorn. 
 All his men were taken prisoners, 
 Stores were pillaged or destroyed, 
 And his downfall and dishonor 
 His enchantress well enjoyed. 
 
 We were consequently ordered 
 
 To the point where now we are, 
 
 And will have hard fighting — soldiers 
 
 ' Scent the battle from afar.' 
 
 Fear not for me, Oh, my sister ! 
 
 God will give us victory. 
 
 And the brave hearts that are offered 
 
WAR. 
 
 41 
 
 Die for Eight and Liberty ! 
 Should I fall, it will not matter, 
 Much, or long, to any one ; 
 Only few short years are given 
 For the longest race that's ran." 
 
 " We have crossed the Mississippi," 
 
 Wrote my brother yet again, 
 
 " And a daring, bold achievement, 
 
 I assure you, it has been. 
 
 Never did the sons of Israel 
 
 For the old Egyptian kings 
 
 Work more steadily in mortar. 
 
 Or accomplish greater things. 
 
 Doing noble deeds and mighty. 
 
 With our axes and our spades, 
 
 We have conquered swamps and forests 
 
 Rivaling the Everglades. 
 
 Made for all our mighty army 
 
 Through these wilds a grand highway. 
 
 And our men, and guns, and baggage. 
 
43 TEAKS AND VICTOKY. 
 
 Part, have crossed the stream to-day. 
 Far below the works at Vicksbiirg, 
 We have solid marching ground, 
 From this point our troops deploying 
 Will the citadel surround. 
 But you wonder how we got here, 
 How Ave crossed the mighty stream, 
 With no enemy to check us, 
 Silently, as in a dream. 
 
 '* After Shernmn's fruitless efforts 
 To assault and take the town, 
 AVith the iron-clads and mortars, 
 From the front to crush them down, 
 Grant perceived the best approaclies 
 To the place were from the South, 
 As the North Avas doubly guarded 
 By the River Yazoo^'s mouth ; 
 He then formed the plan for opening 
 Through the swamps a martial road, 
 While a portion of his forces. 
 Still their time and strength bestowed 
 
WAR. 
 
 In ostensible endeavor 
 
 A canal to open wide, 
 
 Which he judged might be a failure, 
 
 Long before 'twas fully tried. 
 
 Day by day the men were digging 
 
 Through the neck formed by the bend, 
 
 Just as if, this measure failing, 
 
 Every hope must have an end. 
 
 All this w^hile, ten times their number 
 
 Worked with an untiring zeal 
 
 On the fifty miles of bridges 
 
 So important to conceal. 
 
 Hidden by tlie forest's wildness. 
 
 Guarded by so many men, 
 
 Every foe that once intruded 
 
 ^ever left our lines again. 
 
 Steadily the work proceeded. 
 
 While the Southern General laughed, 
 
 Thinking that he knew the programme. 
 
 And could sound the Yankees' craft. 
 
 Grant meanwhile reviewed his army, 
 
 Swelling still with new recruits, 
 
 7 
 
'44^ TEAES AND VICTOEY. 
 
 And in wealtli of stores displaying 
 Patriotisin''s glorious fruits. 
 
 On a pleasant morn of April, 
 Orders came to leave our camp, 
 And the earth began to tremble, 
 With the mighty army's tramp. 
 Files of men, with bristling bayonets, 
 Gleaming in the morning sun, 
 Started out and reached the river, 
 Ere the last their march began. 
 Baggage wagons, ambulances, 
 Heavy guns with ponderous wheels. 
 Cavalry, in long battalions, 
 Thrilled the air like thunder peals ; 
 And before another sunrise 
 Tents had vanished like a dream. 
 And the busy hosts were pouring 
 Toward Grand Gulf a mighty stream. 
 The canal had proved a failure. 
 And the proud, exultant foe 
 Deemed invincible their fortress. 
 
WAR. 4:5- 
 
 Dreaded not a second blow. 
 Little dreaming while they boasted, 
 That our General's followers liege, 
 Far away were stretching Southward, 
 To invest them in a siege. 
 
 But the plan could not be perfect, 
 Though the swamps were conquered well, 
 Till some boats should run the blockade, 
 Through the storm of shot and shell, 
 Charging down the hissing river, 
 Lighted by the powder gleam, 
 Pass the forts and reach the army, 
 To convey it o'er the stream. 
 Porter's gunboats and the transports, 
 That should try this dangerous scheme, 
 All prepared for promptest action, 
 Lay in ambush up the stream. 
 Engineers and sturdy firemen 
 Came in crowds to volunteer. 
 Eager all to dare the peril, 
 Patriot hearts forgetting fear. 
 
40 
 
 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Night, with robes of blackest darkness/ 
 
 To the city doomed to fall, 
 
 Came, and flung her dusky curtains 
 
 O'er its sleepers, like a pall ; 
 
 And ad own the silent river, 
 
 Shadowy masses floated slow, 
 
 While, with fiercest fire of interest. 
 
 Patriot hearts were all aglow ; 
 
 Watching well those clouds of darkness, 
 
 Grouped on the reflected sky. 
 
 From whose forms war's awful thunders 
 
 Were to issue by and by. 
 
 Half an hour of expectation 
 
 Passed thus silently away. 
 
 When two flashes from the batteries, 
 
 Sent the challenge for the fray ; 
 
 Then the gunboats quickly answered, 
 
 With a roar that shook the hills, 
 
 And the gleams of light went streaming 
 
 Through the air like fiery rills. 
 
 Heavier swelled the roar of battle, 
 
 Louder screamed the shot and shell, 
 
WAR. 47 
 
 Broader flashed the streams of fire 
 Bursting from each black-mouthed cell, 
 Till the heavens grew wild with meteors, 
 And the bluffs ablaze with fire, 
 And the grand reverberations, 
 Ever louder rose, and higher ; 
 Then, as if to swell the tumult, 
 Heaven's artillery began. 
 Thunder peal and forked lightning 
 Seemed to mock the power of man ; 
 Lightnings leaping, blazing, flashing, 
 Hurled their chains across the sky, 
 And the hoarse, terrific thunders 
 Rushed in cloudy chariots by. 
 Till the very heavens seemed passing 
 In great noise and smoke away, 
 And the heart grew still with terror. 
 Thinking of the judgment day. 
 But, amid this dire confusion, 
 Dashing through this rain of death. 
 Steamed the frail, intrepid transports, 
 Holding life but by a breath. 
 
48 TEAES AND VICTORY. 
 
 Balls came booming, crashing through them. 
 
 Raking them from stem to stern ; 
 
 See ! a shell has waked the fire-king, 
 
 One, alas ! is doomed to burn. 
 
 Curling flames are wreathing round her, 
 
 Crowning her with garlands bright. 
 
 Till they mingle and enshroud her, 
 
 And she floats, an isle of light. 
 
 Down the river gliding slowly, 
 
 Gracefully she meets her doom, 
 
 Dazzling trails of flery meteors 
 
 Shooting up, illume the gloom ; 
 
 Fiery banners wave above her — 
 
 Where are her brave heroes now '^ 
 
 Safe ! they gain the Western shadows, 
 
 While the tire-king guides her prow 
 
 Round a curve, beyond our vision, 
 
 As she passes, list ! a gun ! 
 
 Fired by impish, flamy fingers — 
 
 Ah ! her work is bravely done ! 
 
 Then at length the race is ended ; 
 
WAR. 49 
 
 Passed the enemy's last gun ; 
 And our little, brave armada 
 Glories in a battle won. 
 But the foe, with exultation, 
 Thought another scheme had failed, 
 And serenely sank to slumber, 
 Feeling sure he had prevailed. 
 
 We are marching through the South-land, 
 In the Spring of all the years. 
 In a clime where Winter's sternness 
 Melts to showers, dissolves in tears ; 
 In a clime where beauty blossoms 
 In the grand Magnolia's shade. 
 And the fragrant odors wander 
 Over every hill and glade. 
 Flowers embroider all the hill-sides. 
 Trees and shrubs are clothed with them, 
 While the gaudy flowering creepers 
 Hang festooned from stem to stem. 
 Nature's treasures in profusion 
 
50 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 On each rounded hill-top lie, 
 In the lap of every valley 
 Sitteth lavish luxury. 
 And through all this billowy verdure, 
 We, in waving lines of blue. 
 Shining with our bayonets' glitter, 
 Brightened by our colors true, 
 Streaming down the sunny valleys. 
 Climbing hills with steady pace, 
 Make a scene of wondrous beauty, 
 Ne'er surpassed in any place. 
 But, o'er all this lovely country. 
 Hangs a strange and dreamy spell, 
 Seeming like the haze of Autumn, 
 Gathering dimness down each dell. 
 But the spell is on the spirit, 
 Not upon the outward earth, 
 On the springs of life and action, 
 Where ambition has its birth ; 
 Leading all to choose to loiter, 
 In the good old easy way. 
 Rather than by brave endeavor 
 
WAE. 51 
 
 Rise, to meet the coming day. 
 
 In each stately hall and cabin, 
 
 Want of energy and care, 
 
 To the finest situation 
 
 Gives a half deserted air ; 
 
 And, I fear, before we leave them. 
 
 Ruin will be most complete. 
 
 For we march through fields of slaughter, 
 
 While our enemies retreat. 
 
 Falling back toward Jackson daily, 
 
 For we mean to take the place ; 
 
 They, as hopeful to defend it, 
 
 Throw up works before our face. 
 
 We have had an entertainment. 
 Really, 'twas a fine affair ; 
 I could hardly have imagined 
 Scenes so grand belonged to war. 
 Where is now the glowing landscape, 
 Lying smiling 'neath the sun ? 
 Torn and marred, its beauty withered, 
 
TEARS AND VICTOKY. 
 
 Ere the day is fully done. 
 Where is now the shining city, 
 Home of elegance and taste ? 
 Blackened, charred, a smoking ruin, 
 All its beauty is defaced. 
 Storm of battle raging through it, 
 Deafening peals of cannon's roar, 
 Raging fiends of flame have swept it. 
 Driving out the foe before. 
 And we claim a glorious victory, 
 Call the ruined city ours ; 
 Strange, 'tis only by destruction 
 That we can assert our powers ! 
 
 Back to Yicksburg, slowly falling. 
 Moves the foe to stronger ground ; 
 And we follow, gravely thinking 
 We will guard him safely round. 
 Would you have me tell of Yicksburg, 
 All the horrors of the time. 
 With its loud continuous thunders 
 And its spectacles sublime ? 
 
WAR. 53 
 
 Of the dreadful grand explosions, 
 And the charges on the works, 
 "Where our soldiers fought so bravely, 
 Desperate as a band of Turks ? 
 I can never tell you, never ! 
 Half the terrors of that scene ; 
 Words all fail to give expression, 
 When our feelings are most keen. 
 Then I weary of the bloodshed, 
 And the cries of cruel pain, 
 Longing so for peace and quiet, 
 And my pleasant home again. 
 
 It is ours ! the Mississippi, 
 With its throng of ships and trade ! 
 And its worth is fully equal 
 To the struggle we have made. 
 
54: TEAKS AND VICTOET. 
 
 Conquering, and on to conquer, 
 Sherman marches toward the sea, 
 While our troops are scattered, hardly 
 Knowing where we next shall be. 
 
P ^R T III 
 
 CARES. 
 
CARES. 
 
 After having read these sketches 
 Of my brother's army life, 
 Breathing something of the spirit 
 And excitement of the strife, 
 I am fearful that the record 
 Of the simple life we lead. 
 As I sent it to my brother, 
 May not be with interest read. 
 But my story would be wanting 
 
 In some grave important parts. 
 Should I pass in silence over 
 Cares that gave us heavy hearts. 
 
58 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 " I am writing, dearest brother, 
 
 In my little window nook, 
 
 Looking out upon the garden 
 
 And the bridge that spans the brook ; 
 
 And the gently singing water, 
 
 Glinting in the sunny light. 
 
 Lulls me with its soothing music. 
 
 Till I hardly care to write ; 
 
 And its dreamy, listless spirit, 
 
 Holds each vein the pulse creeps through. 
 
 Till my soul seems hardly conscious, 
 
 Of the love it bears for you. 
 
 Ah ! each heart-throb swells and deepens, 
 
 When I think where you may be. 
 
 Dearest brother, Heaven will surely 
 
 Send you safely back to me ! 
 
 We have missed you very sadly, 
 
 But no loyal heart complains, 
 
CASES. 511 
 
 When in field, or work, or council, 
 All her loss, her country gains. 
 We had hoped the farm might prosper 
 In the hands of Mr. West, 
 For you know he seemed so honest, 
 You had thought his offer best. 
 Well ! He wore the veil of goodnest^ 
 Till 'twas getting pretty thin, 
 Till we found it only covered 
 Plain hypocrisy within. 
 To recount the whole sad story 
 Were too much for my weak pen, 
 But I think that he has taught me 
 To beware how I trust men ! 
 Would that I could tell in future 
 All the good from counterfeit ! 
 I will give you just one instance 
 Where the man was proved a cheat : 
 We had given him the money 
 Coming from the harvest grain, 
 All to pay the heavy mortgage 
 Under which our land had lain : 
 
6.0 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 He professing to be willing 
 
 Still to wait his wages due, 
 
 Till the quarterly advances 
 
 Of your earnings came from you. 
 
 Very kindly he had tendered 
 
 Offices of friendly care, 
 
 And in every heavy burden 
 
 S eemed to wish to take my share. 
 
 Well he knew the times were pressing, 
 
 And our money hard to get, 
 
 For it seemed our utmost saving 
 
 Could not keep us free from debt. 
 
 Then your letters failed to reach us, 
 
 Many a long and dreary day, 
 
 Till I felt the ground I stood on 
 
 Washing grain by grain away ; 
 
 Till I felt that my endeavor 
 
 Must achieve the work of man. 
 
 And the drain of hired labor 
 
 Be arrested. 
 
 Then began 
 All my most annoying trials, 
 
CARES. 61 
 
 For the man who should have been 
 
 Still a friend when most we needed, 
 
 Strove a master's place to win. 
 
 When my heart was sorest burdened 
 
 With anxiety for you, 
 
 When affairs were looking darkest, 
 
 When we knew not what to do : 
 
 Such the time he chose to offer 
 
 For my love his ' heart and hand,' 
 
 In a w^ay that told he thought it 
 
 Payable upon demand. 
 
 But, alas, for human foresight ! 
 
 I refused his urgent plea. 
 
 Dared to face the lowering future, 
 
 With no arm to shelter me ! 
 
 Choosing rather toil and hardship. 
 
 And to walk alone in life, 
 
 Than to wed because one asked me, 
 
 And to be a loveless wife. 
 
 I have neither wealth nor beauty 
 
 To bestow on any man : 
 
 So a little love, I'm thinking. 
 
iy2 TEAES AND VICTORY- 
 
 Would be safest in the plan ; 
 
 I 've a very willful nature, 
 
 And I never could endure 
 
 To assume all wifely duty, 
 
 Till the help of love was sure. 
 
 I 've a heart — I'm sure I have one — 
 
 One that knows its idols well, 
 
 And when Love will take it captive, 
 
 I am sure I cannot tell ; 
 
 But I mean to keep it only 
 
 Within reach of honest men. 
 
 So that, when I lose the treasure, 
 
 I '11 get something back again. 
 
 I have seen enough of marriage 
 Where the wife gave all she had. 
 Time, and brain, and love, and service. 
 And I thought it very sad 
 The return should be so meagre ; 
 Scarce enough to set up house, 
 Yery small in food and clothing. 
 And the love would starve a mouse. 
 
CAEES. 63 
 
 When I marry, you may call me 
 ' Fool,' or ' goose,' or some such thing, 
 If my husband does not love me 
 After he has given the ring. 
 But I must proceed to business, 
 And cease meddling with my fate. 
 >Or the epithets were needed 
 Ere I reach the marriage state. 
 
 Weeks passed by, and Christmas coming, 
 
 Made another payment due, 
 
 But we could not raise the money. 
 
 As we had no help from you. 
 
 So I went, one snowy morning, 
 
 To the house of Mr. Blain, 
 
 Told him I must ask his patience, 
 
 Stated all the matter plain ; 
 
 Said I hoped he would not find it 
 
 Hard to grant us one delay, 
 
 When he thought how we had managed 
 
 Previous payments to the day. 
 
64 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 ' To the day, indeed, Miss Elwyn ! 
 Eeally, you are very queer, 
 When I Ve waited for two payments 
 Which were due me half a year ! ' 
 
 'Twas my turn to be astonished, 
 When I heard him utter this, 
 So I told him, we had sent him 
 Every dollar we thought his, 
 Just as soon as it was due him. 
 
 ' Well, I cannot understand 
 
 Why I 've not received the money ; 
 
 Did you send a trusty hand ? ' 
 
 * We supposed him safe and honest, 
 For we sent by Mr. West ; 
 He must know we 'd learn his dealings. 
 When we came to pay the rest ! ' 
 
 ' Really, Miss, I am astonished ! — 
 
CARES. 6^5 
 
 Can it be I 've rightly heard ? ' 
 Then I said : ' Pray, see my mother, 
 If you cannot take my word.' 
 But he answered : 
 
 ' Grant me pardon, 
 If at first I seemed to doubt, 
 Since I could but be confounded. 
 Thus to find a villain out ! ' 
 
 I then told him we were owing 
 For the labor of a year. 
 And the man no doubt intended 
 To retain his own arrear. 
 
 * That explains, but scarce excuses ; 
 He would hardly dare to deal 
 Thus with men. If chances favor. 
 He is none to good too steal.' 
 
 * Well,' I said, ' I 'm very sorry. 
 And I know not what to do.' 
 
66 TEAKS AND VICTOEY. 
 
 ' Never mind : you cannot help it ; 
 I will see the matter through : 
 If that man is trying to cheat you. 
 Or to over-reach, at all, 
 I will watch liim at the business, 
 And his plans will have a fall. 
 Don't you worry — not a minute ; 
 Never mind my payments due ; 
 If I go without my money, 
 I shall never trouble you.' 
 
 Thus the kind old man relieved me 
 Of a load o^ grief and care. 
 And my heart was ten- fold lighter 
 Coming home than going there. 
 I had found a friend and champion. 
 When the need had come for one, 
 Who would lift my heaviest burden. 
 And do all I needed done. 
 
 So the trouble I had borrowed. 
 Lest the mortgage he should close. 
 
CAEES. 6^ 
 
 Might be, with a host of others, 
 Classed among my needless woes. 
 Ah ! the world has many troubles 
 Hard to bear, and slow to cure ; 
 But the ones we borrow, surely 
 Are the hardest to endure. 
 In our hours of greatest trial. 
 Or when dangers hover near, 
 All the soul is stirred by passion. 
 And the courage born of fear 
 Gives a strength to meet or conquer 
 Every foe that may appear. 
 Real trouble, in all spirits 
 Who are noble, good and true, 
 Rouses every latent power. 
 Brings their possible to view ; 
 True, they tm*n, and soon forget it, 
 Sinking to their common plane. 
 When the need that roused to action 
 Ceases to inspire again. 
 Strange ! our memory often serves us 
 Tricks like this, oft seems to lose 
 
68 TEAKS AND TICTORY. 
 
 All the facts that should be cheering^^ 
 
 All discouragements to use. 
 
 Then another powerful reason 
 
 Why our borrowed burdens are 
 
 Heavier than our real sorrows, 
 
 Lies beyond ourselves full far ; 
 
 In the Heart of Love above us, 
 
 In the care our Father shows, 
 
 Who has made but small provision 
 
 For imaginary woes. 
 
 'Mid the spirit's sorest trials, 
 
 When it cannot stand alone, 
 
 In extremest fearful moments. 
 
 He will hear the faintest moan ; 
 
 But I need not tell you, brother. 
 
 Of this never failing arm, 
 
 Well I know you oft have tested 
 
 All its power to shield from harm 
 
 Those who own, and those who trust it. 
 
 While they walk in slippery ways, 
 
 Never falling where they cannot 
 
 See His goodness, speak His praise.'' 
 
CARES. 63 
 
 A perfect golden day 
 Of leafage and of bloom, 
 Only beneath the tossing leaves 
 Do shadows creep and gloom, 
 And the rose's crimson pride 
 
 Most regally crowns the May, 
 
 May, in her emerald dress. 
 Stands at the open door, 
 Waving her garlands gaily back, 
 
 But gazing intent before ; 
 She goes to meet bright June, 
 With a welcoming caress. 
 
 And June, the stately maid, 
 With waving willow tress. 
 Wears for the poor, as well as rich, 
 
 Her cloud pearl-satin dress, . 
 Pouring her golden wealth of sun 
 In the lap of every glade. 
 
100. TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 She enters gracefully, 
 While May goes laughing by, 
 And we scarce can tell which bringeth most 
 
 Of charm to earth and sky, 
 Or whether the past were fairer still 
 Than future days will be. 
 
 Though age our charms may blight, 
 We 're glad to feel the truth 
 Our Mays and Junes will ne^er grow old 
 
 Theirs is perennial youtb, 
 And every Spring in its blossoming 
 Will bring us fresh delight. 
 
 I am growing old, dear brother, 
 'TsTeath my weight of cares and fears, 
 And my cheeks have lines of sadness. 
 Paths full often worn by tears. 
 I have tried to bear my burdens 
 Lightly, for my mother's sake ; 
 But I fear I '\ e not seemed cheerful. 
 
CARES. 
 
 Tis so hard to hide the ache 
 When 'tis deep and constant feeling, 
 Borne alone, for want of you. 
 Could I lean upon your shoulder, 
 Have you tell me what to do, 
 I should feel no anxious doubting, 
 Whether I have wisely done, 
 In refusing, proudly, coldly, 
 Love or help from any one. 
 
 I have had another lover. 
 One you will remember well, 
 'Twas the traveled, haughty brother 
 Of our little neighbor " Xell." 
 Harry Lynne, the rich young lawyer, 
 He, to love a girl like me ! 
 He who is so gay and brilliant. 
 One would think it could not be ; 
 For he might have wooed the fairest, 
 With bright hopes of good success ; 
 When he chose one plain and quiet. 
 He could hardly look for less ; 
 
72 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 But I told him No ! and meant it, 
 And perhaps you '11 wonder why ; 
 You will keep my secret, won't you ? 
 When I own that — so do I I 
 What, of all that's brave and manly. 
 Is there lacking, pray, in him ? 
 Nothing, really, that I know of — 
 'Tis perhaps an idle whim ; 
 But I 'm proud ; and that, in woman, 
 Is a questionable grace. 
 Leastwise when it dares to flourish 
 Without wealth, or winning face. 
 ^ So I tossed this great temptation 
 From the temple's pinnacle — 
 Love's grand temple, where he led me- 
 Am I rash, or cynical ? 
 I had never sought to clamber 
 Up the steep and giddy height, 
 Never bowed in hero-worship. 
 Never even dreamed I might. 
 When I heard this brave young hero 
 Tell again the olden tale, 
 
CAKES. 73 
 
 Woman's charms, and man's devotion, 
 
 All his vows conld not avail 
 
 To prevent his words from seeming 
 
 Thus : " Behold me ! I am one 
 
 Worthy of your life-long service ; 
 
 Bless me with the priceless boon." 
 
 Still, a conflict of emotions 
 
 Thrilled me, when I thought how much 
 
 Might be given, if hearts were in it — 
 
 And I shrank the theme to touch. 
 
 And my weak and blind confusion 
 
 Was interpreted to mean 
 
 Coy consent ; and gave me trouble ; 
 
 Some mistakes have stings so keen ! 
 
 But I think he'll not repeat it. 
 
 Will not think my answer vain, 
 
 Though I did not give my reasons, 
 
 For I could not well explain. 
 
 And to you I do no better. 
 
 But I trust you '11 think me wise : 
 
 Meanwhile, as the thing is settled. 
 
 You in safety may advise. 
 
?4 TEARS AND VICTOKY. 
 
 Let me here enclose a copy 
 Of a letter I received 
 From the first rejected suitor ; 
 He is worse than I believed. 
 
 *•' Madame : — 
 
 Let me say 
 
 I love you — though you scorn — 
 And you '11 live to see the day 
 
 You '11 regret that Sunday morn. 
 When you threw my love away, 
 
 As we walked among the corn. 
 
 Pride must have a fall, 
 
 And you will yet come down. 
 Though you may have fancied all. 
 
 From the lawyer to the clown, 
 Might be bandied like a ball ; 
 
 Take my word — I''ll hring yott down ! 
 Signed — 
 
 Junius Brutus West." 
 
CARES. 75 
 
 What a contrast to the spirit 
 
 By the other lover shown ! 
 
 " We are friends," he said, " forever, 
 
 Though you cannot be my own ; 
 
 And should fortune, or occasion, 
 
 Ever bring you need of me, 
 
 I shall hold myself your champion, 
 
 Whensoever it may be." 
 
 I repent me, now 'tis over, 
 That I answered haughtily : 
 " Woman who is brave and virtuous 
 ITeed not fear, on land or sea ; 
 She will never need protection 
 'Neath the banner of the Free." 
 While to him who wrote the letter, 
 I have sent no message yet, 
 That would give him any knowledge 
 How I scorned his idle threat ; 
 And perhaps 'tis best I should not, 
 For I never can have fear 
 
 10 
 
7i TEA.KS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Of a man I know a coward, 
 Though so brave he would appear, 
 Making threats to fright a woman ! 
 I defy him — far or near. 
 
 But enough of these mj troubles, 
 Lest I weary you at length ; 
 E 'en the knowledge that you know them 
 Seems to give me added strength. 
 And I pray your patience with me. 
 For I must have sympathy. 
 And in all the world no other 
 Like a brother's heart can be. 
 
CARES. 77 
 
 QUESTIONINGS. 
 
 Is it true, what I said to myself and him ? 
 
 Is a brother's love the best ? 
 
 Because we have never known a thing, 
 
 Should we shut our eyes to the friends who bring 
 
 Long troops of facts, all witnessing 
 
 To prove us wrong in the views of life 
 
 We have cherished with such zest ? 
 
 In the deepsW my heart, have I not found 
 
 When I have cared its deeps to sound, 
 
 A wealth of jewels all unsunned, 
 
 Ruby red or pearly fair. 
 
 That a brother's brow might never wear, 
 
 But he alone who called me wife ? 
 
 Have I not known the visions dim, 
 
 That walk the misty halls of night, 
 
 That shine most fair in the wierd light, 
 
 Which quivers from the stars ? 
 
 Were there no dreams of kisses warm. 
 
78 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Of arms that shut me from the storm 
 
 And eyes which thrilled with glances bright, 
 
 Of smiles that prisoned me with light 
 
 Like moonlight's silver bars ? 
 
 Ah ! these were dreams, I know full well, 
 
 But yet I Ve felt my pulses swell, 
 
 When I have seen some flashing gleams 
 
 Like those that thrilled me in my dreams. 
 
 From eyes that sought me, 'mid the throng — 
 
 Oh ! can it be that I was wrong. 
 
 When I have said, such love, for me 
 
 In all the w^orld could never be ? 9 
 
I» ^ R T IV. 
 
 GLOOM AND GLEAM. 
 
GLOOM AND GLEAM. 
 
 Sweetly came the breath of summer, 
 
 Over vales and hill-tops borne, 
 
 From the South-land, warm and glowing, 
 
 Waving all the tasseled corn ; 
 
 Telling to our anxious spirits 
 
 Naught of all the toil and pain 
 
 That were wearing out our soldiers, 
 
 On the march or battle plain. 
 
 But the spirits of the cloud-land. 
 
 Dwellers in the Summer sky, 
 
 Fleet and bright, the winged lightnings 
 
 Brought the message wondrously : 
 
 Came and went, our willing servants, 
 
 Saying to us, " Here w^e are ;" 
 
 Trod the paths of our appointment. 
 
 Flashed the tidings from afar. 
 
82 TEARS AIJD VICTORY. 
 
 Thus we came to know that Victor, 
 Captain of a noble band, 
 Joined, obedient to his orders. 
 Forces on the Cumberland. 
 ■ Numerous long and wearj marches 
 Were endured, until, at length, 
 Worn and faint, lie entered battle, 
 Shorn of almost all his strength. 
 Was it strange that he was taken 
 By the fierce and cruel foe ? 
 When he scarce could lead the onset, 
 Sure, retreating would be slow ! 
 JHe was taken in a skirmish. 
 With a handful of his men ; 
 Doomed to suffer months of anguish 
 In a Southern " prison-pen." 
 
 Shall I dare attempt to tell you 
 What he suffered ; what he saw ? 
 Ah, this poor and meagre language ! 
 Pencils fail the scene to draw. 
 Words may paint you scenes of torment, 
 
GLOOM AND GLEAM. SS 
 
 Poets think to portray hell — 
 But I shrink from the endeavor 
 Half this horrid tale to tell ! 
 Even Hell were not so dreadful, 
 "When 'tis in its proper place, 
 But to build a hell in Eden 
 Would to Satan be disgrace ! 
 
 DIRGE, 
 
 A dirge for the broken hearts, 
 Lying in nameless graves ; 
 Load upon load they have borne, 
 Piece by piece they were torn ; 
 Who would have borne their parts. 
 Weep for the martyr braves ! 
 
 Courage can look on Death 
 
 Sweeping the battle-field, 
 
 But to stand and see him slay 
 
 For weeks and months his prey, 
 11 
 
84. TEAKS AND VICTOKY. 
 
 Mocking you every breath, 
 The stoutest heart must yield. 
 
 To dream of a happy home 
 Basking in love's sweet light, 
 And wake to the horrid truth 
 Of a poisoned, wasting youth, 
 Where love may never come 
 To say the last good-night ; 
 
 To lie 'neath the same warm sun 
 That ripens our fields of grain ; 
 To starve, while Plenty blooms 
 In those distant, blessed homes, 
 With nothing to shelter one 
 'Mid the fever's racking pain ; 
 
 To bear the cross for guilt. 
 Yet not for sins of ours ; 
 To suffer, that a race 
 Be lifted to its place ; 
 
GLCOM AIsD GLEAM. 
 
 And our children's homes be built 
 Amid fair Freedom's bowers ; 
 
 t 
 Such is the work they did — 
 The hardest of all, to do, 
 Simply to suffer on 
 When hope and strength were gone, 
 Not even a coffin-lid. 
 
 To shelter the " tried and true.'' 
 
 To a noble, tender nature, 
 Sensitive as Victor's was. 
 Pitiful to every creature, 
 Double suffering fell, because 
 Pains of hunger, thirst, and fever, 
 Could not torture like the sight 
 Of so many noble spirits 
 Suffering in such hopeless pl'ght. 
 We, who heard his di*eadful story, 
 When at last he was exchanged. 
 Wondered not that for a season 
 Reason's self became deranged — 
 
TEAES AlO) VICTORY. 
 
 Wondered not that he was bitter 
 In his hatred to the foe ; 
 Yet, when^olunteers were wanted, 
 Wondered that he wished to go. 
 
 Then a second bitter parting 
 
 Came to wring my sister's heart, 
 
 And it seemed she could not bear it. 
 
 They had been so long apart, 
 
 And the joy of their fond meeting 
 
 Was so pure and so intense — 
 
 Could she yield recovered treasure — 
 
 Bear again the same suspense ? 
 
 But the urgent call of duty 
 
 Was so loud in Victor's ear, 
 
 Love, nor ease, nor youthful beauty, 
 
 Even self, he could not hear. 
 
 Well he knew what iiends might clutch him, 
 
 Never to let go their hold, 
 
 But he loved the cause of Freedom, 
 
 And his heart was brave and bold. 
 
 " I must go ! A little longer — 
 
GLOOM AND GLEAM. 87 
 
 You will let me, dearest Grace ! 
 
 God would have us fight his battles — 
 
 Let us wear a patient face. 
 
 We shall conquer !. Kight will triumph ; 
 
 In our cause I put my faith ; 
 
 But," — and then his pale lips trembled — 
 
 " I am yours, in life or death." 
 
 Slowly passed the days of waiting — 
 Letters came, like angels fair. 
 Lifting up our drooping spirits. 
 Bringing to us light and air. 
 Breathing in our hearts the courage 
 Of the souls so grandly true, 
 Who could read amid reverses 
 Nothing but " Endure !" and " Do !" 
 Victor joined the mighty army 
 Closing round the rebels, fast, 
 Moving toward their chosen city. 
 Where the war must end at last — 
 Hoping he might enter Richmond, 
 
88 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And enjoy the closing scene. 
 But I leave him, while I tell you 
 Of my brother's Evalene. 
 
 E V A L E N E . 
 
 She was the sweet pale lily, 
 
 Lighting our vale for us. 
 
 Gleaming, through showers and sunlight, 
 
 Graceful and tremulous ; 
 
 Love was the sun of her heaven. 
 
 Gilding each joy with its beams, 
 
 Tidings to her of the loved one, 
 
 Kefreshing like showers and streams. 
 
 Hope was her bow of promise. 
 
 Gemming each dewy tear, 
 
 Spanning the hills of the future, 
 
 Shining o'er clouds of fear — 
 
 Faith in the care of heaven 
 
 Over the good and true, 
 
 Made her our mother's comfort 
 
GLOOM AND GLEAM. 
 
 The weary sad time through. 
 Then to our little valley, 
 Quick as the lightnings come, 
 Quivered the welcome message, 
 ^' Brother is coming home !" 
 
 " Arthur will come to-morrow ! 
 Shall we not warmly press 
 Him to our grateful bosoms, 
 With many a fond caress ? " 
 Drinking his looks of fondness ; 
 Feeling his arm of strength 
 Under our arm of weakness, 
 We shall have rest at length. 
 " Arthur is coming to-morrow ! 
 Tell it to Evalene ; 
 She has appreciation 
 For all the words can mean. 
 Ah ! how they ring like joy-bells, 
 Chiming their sweetest tunes, 
 Filling the pasture woodlands 
 
90 TEAES AUD VICTORY. 
 
 With the music of by-gone Junes ! 
 And though it is winter weather, 
 Our lily blooms over the snow, 
 Roses and lilies together 
 Meet in her cheeks' bright glow. 
 True, 'tis no time to wander 
 I)own in the shaded dells, 
 Where the hare-bells rock the dew-drops 
 Deep in their azure cells ; 
 Where the spray of the foamy streamlet 
 Is flecking the feathery ferns, 
 And bright in the emerald mosses 
 Each drop like a diamond burns. 
 There are the dearest places. 
 Brightest with memories sweet, 
 '^ Where they were wont to ramble, 
 In childhood, with tireless feet. 
 She, with her hare-bell garland, 
 Blue as her gentle e3^es. 
 Eyes fitll of timid love-light 
 For him who had won the prize ; 
 He, with his ferns and mosses. 
 
GLOOM AND GLEAM. 91 
 
 Gathered for her and me ; 
 
 Fondest of youthful lovers, 
 
 Gentle as brave was he. 
 
 But now, the rocky ridges, 
 
 And angular granite piles 
 
 Are sculptured saints, in niches. 
 
 Guarding the forest aisles ; 
 
 Or rounded marble columns. 
 
 Crowning a marble base, 
 
 With pure white steps ascending 
 
 From many a ghostly place. 
 
 For, over all the greenness. 
 
 The pure white snow has laid 
 
 Its smooth and shining mantle, 
 
 And wondrous change has made. 
 
 The grotto by the brooklet. 
 
 Our favorite haunt of all. 
 
 Is a fairy cave of brilliants, 
 
 With icy columns tall ; 
 
 And the hemlocks and the spruces 
 
 That line the white ravine. 
 
 Are trimmed with down and ermine, 
 
 12 
 
92 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 With scarce a liint of green ; 
 
 Even the twigs of willow 
 
 Are safe in a glassy case, 
 
 Keeping their downy catkins 
 
 The streamlets waking to grace. 
 
 For the merry brook is lying, 
 
 Covered with blanket white, 
 
 Only a dreamy murmur 
 
 Tells 'tis not smothered quite ; 
 
 But the pleasant voice of the maiden 
 
 That decketh herself with the May, 
 
 Will call to the listening streamlets. 
 
 And their dullness will vanish away. 
 
 S^ we will wait her pleasure. 
 
 But we shall have two Springs — 
 
 One, marked by our home-bird's coming. 
 
 And one, by the swallow's wings. 
 
 The love that was hidden in childhood, 
 
 Lest it meet a cruel death. 
 
 Is grown so strong and fearless 
 
 That it need not fekr the breath 
 
 Of the cruel old queen Gossip, 
 
GLOOM AND GLEAM. 93 
 
 Or Slander's venomed stings ; 
 
 For Love will live in triumph 
 
 When they are dead, poor things ! 
 
 So come to meet yom* lover 
 
 At the homestead, Evalene, 
 
 And let ns share together 
 
 The joyful meeting scene ; 
 
 E 'en now the tears are brimming 
 
 In our expectant eyes. 
 
 And joy will still be hightened 
 
 To see his glad surprise, 
 
 That you, of all the dearest. 
 
 To welcome him should come. 
 
 Oh ! it outweighs the absence. 
 
 This joyful " coming home." 
 
 Pictures may shine with sungleams, 
 And words may chime like bells, 
 But happiness hath no language 
 To measure its ocean swells ; 
 Naught but the eyes' bright sparkle, 
 Swimming in joyful tears, 
 
94 TEARS AND VICTOEY. 
 
 With the touch and the clasj) electric, 
 Communion that no one hears. 
 
 This greeting of spirit with spirit. 
 We have felt the subtle charm, 
 Giving such wealth of pleasure 
 By a restful, clasping arm. 
 Ah, brother ! we know no other, 
 Who brings to us such love, 
 And years of trial only. 
 Such worth as yours can prove. 
 May I not well be joyful, 
 And sing like a morning bird. 
 When all my fears are vanquished, 
 And all my cares transferred ? 
 
I* ^ R T V^. 
 
 TRIAL. 
 
TRIAL. 
 
 Meeting and ])arting over — 
 So do the moments pass, 
 Chasing each other like shadows 
 Of clonds on the meadow grass. 
 Joy in the morning cometh 
 With the dew-drop's sparkling sheen. 
 But at eve dark storms and sorrow, 
 And few are the hours between. 
 
 So to our little cottage 
 
 Its light with the dawning came. 
 
 Then the day sped by so swiftly, 
 
 And the night came back the same. 
 
 And we were left all lonely 
 
 To tread the paths of toil. 
 
 To iio^ht in the world's great battle. 
 
98 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And win our meed of spoil, 
 
 Or fail, and yield the victory 
 
 To those who are more, brave, 
 
 Or those who gain by intrigue 
 
 What fairness cannot save. 
 
 'Tis not so hard to labor 
 
 For daily bread and meat, 
 
 When the way is plain before us, 
 
 All ready for our feet ; 
 
 But to strike out in the forest, 
 
 And cut and clear one's path. 
 
 Carrying a heavy burden, 
 
 Tests all the power one hath. 
 
 I labored at the farm-house, 
 
 Till my brother came and said, 
 
 '' When hands are worn and weary, 
 
 'T were better to try the head." 
 
 So we rented the dear old homestead, 
 
 Though mother remained there still, 
 
 With sister — her love and duty 
 
 The vacant places to fill : 
 
 And I, in the wide world's forest, 
 
TRIAL. 
 
 The city's dusty street, 
 
 With a wilhDg heart and fearless, 
 
 Went forth my work to meet. 
 
 Oh ! the weary search for labor 
 
 For the willing hands to do, 
 
 Where hands and mouths are many. 
 
 And work for, oh, so few ! 
 
 So little work for a woman, 
 
 Though her hands be deft and strong, 
 
 And her head be clear and steady — 
 
 'Tis ever the same old song — 
 
 ^' We do not want a woman : 
 
 She cannot fill the place ;" 
 
 Or, " We give but half the wages 
 
 To a woman, in any case." 
 
 Pray why ! if her work is finished 
 With neatness and with care, 
 Why is the value lessened, 
 If she promptly does her share ? 
 
 13 
 
 99 
 
100 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Because she's the '"' weaker vessel" ? 
 For shame ! to cheat her, then, 
 Or take her at advantage, 
 If she cannot cope with men. 
 ^Tis mean to take her labor ^ 
 And call it little worth, 
 Although ma/ri's greed has made it 
 The way of all the earth. 
 
 At length I found employment 
 In a merchant's counting-room, 
 And faithfully I labored. 
 But it cost my cheek its bloom. 
 And when the Spring returning, 
 Sweet with the breath of flowers, 
 Called at my open window. 
 And whispered of bygone hours ; 
 I longed for my pleasant garden, 
 To work in the warm, brown earth, 
 To nourish her wee green children, 
 And watch for the seedlet's birth ; 
 To breathe, in the cool of evening 
 
TRIAL. 101 
 
 The odors of balm and spice, 
 For, to dress and keep a garden 
 Was the work of Paradise. 
 And is this not a reason 
 For the wish we always feel, 
 To plant in the shining seed time 
 Earth's treasures to reveal ! 
 To join in the great procession, 
 Earth's workers moving on, 
 And help, thongh e'er so little, 
 The hand of the Mighty One ! 
 
 I shut my sad home longings 
 Up closely in my heart. 
 And planted Charity's blossoms 
 In the City's busy mart : 
 Blossoms that spring up gladly 
 In the hearts of the hungry poor, 
 By plentiful tears well watered. 
 To smile at our open door ; 
 Blossoms that feed on sunshine. 
 The sunshine of passing smiles, 
 
102 TEAUS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And bear us grateful fruitage, 
 To be plucked in the blessed isles. 
 
 I have met my angry lover, 
 
 The one who threatened me ; 
 
 His face was so dark and wicked 
 
 That it made me sad to see ; 
 
 I think he knows my business, 
 
 And watches if he may find 
 
 Some way to annoy and fret me, 
 
 And disturb my peace of mind. 
 
 When at night I'm going homeward. 
 
 He follows upon my track, 
 
 Till I dread that I shall see him. 
 
 Whenever I'm looking back. 
 
 I do not think I fear him 
 
 In an honest open feud, 
 
 But this under-handed plotting 
 
 Is harder to be subdued ; 
 
 And I cannot help but wonder 
 
 What he intends to try, 
 
TRIAL. 103 
 
 To bring me to his level, 
 Whom '' pride has set so high." 
 
 Hark ! to the shout of battle ! 
 
 Filling the heart with dread, 
 
 Strewing Virginia's valleys 
 
 With dying and with dead. 
 
 God, in the " Wilderness " dreary, 
 
 Goeth his people before, 
 
 In the cloudy, fiery pillar. 
 
 As in the days of yore. 
 
 And, to those who view the slaughter, 
 
 And the fiery serpents braved. 
 
 It seemeth a doubtful question 
 
 If there's even a remnant saved. 
 
 Wearily waiting, and watching 
 
 The lists of the killed and maimed. 
 
 Suspense at least is ended 
 
 When we find our loved ones named. 
 
 Arthur, my brother, is wounded — 
 
 " Slightly"— Thank God, no worse ! 
 
104 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 I think I must go and tend him, 
 Though I've but a slender purse. 
 If he can, he will write me a letter. 
 Should the printed report prove true, 
 So I will defer a little 
 Deciding what I shall do. 
 
 " Suffering," he writes, " intensely, 
 For want of the proper care." 
 His wound is in his ankle — 
 I must hasten to be there. 
 I have written to mother and sister, 
 Cheerfully as I could ; 
 Said I was going to Arthur, 
 Perhaps I could do him good. 
 Hastily getting me ready, , 
 I started to meet the train ; 
 Taking a seat in a street- car, 
 I encountered my lover again ; 
 I could not choose but see him, 
 Sitting beside me close — 
 
TKIAL. 105 
 
 And I certainly could not admire, 
 
 He looked so grum and morose ; 
 
 I turned my face to the window, 
 
 He looked the opposite way, 
 
 And you may be very certain 
 
 That neither had aught to say. 
 
 At length we arrived at the station, 
 
 And I was annoyed to see . 
 
 That, through the crowd as I hurried, 
 
 The man was following me. 
 
 I wanted to purchase my ticket. 
 
 And went to the office to buy, 
 
 I searched for my purse in my pocket, 
 
 And could not restrain a cry, 
 
 For, oh, my purse was stolen ! 
 
 And how could I go without ! 
 
 I sank to the floor in my anguish, 
 
 While bystanders gathered about ; 
 
 The blow was so sudden and heavy. 
 
 It dried up the fountain of tears ; 
 
 I seemed to have turned to a statue. 
 
 My heart was so pressed by its fears — 
 
106 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 But I quickly recovered my senses, 
 
 As I was replaced on my feet, 
 
 By some person standing behind me, 
 
 Who kindly procured me a seat. 
 
 Then I replied to the questions. 
 
 Telling my story in brief — 
 
 " My brother was wounded — I sought him- 
 
 My purse had been picked by a thief ! '' 
 
 I turned, and beheld my tormentor 
 
 Advancing to me with a smile — 
 
 He said he " would like to assist me, 
 
 As he traveled my way for a while." 
 
 He offered a note — I took it, 
 
 Not knowing what else to do. 
 
 Thinking I would return it 
 
 Soon as my wages were due. 
 
 " Surely I must have wronged him, 
 
 If this is revenge," thought I — 
 
 " I'll take it ; I may be saving 
 
 My brother's life thereby. 
 
 False pride, I think I have not 
 
 A kindness like this to refuse " — 
 
TRIAL. lOT 
 
 But I thought the man looked strangely 
 
 When I took the note to use. 
 
 Just as this thought came o'er me, 
 
 Some one pronounced my name — 
 
 I knew the voice — 'twas Harry's — 
 
 And I felt my cheek aflame. 
 
 It made me almost angry 
 
 To think it should be so, 
 
 And when his aid he offered, 
 
 I haughtily answered, Ko ! 
 
 His look was so reproachful, 
 
 I half regretted my pride ; 
 
 I turned to explain a little, 
 
 But he had left my side. 
 
 I took my change and ticket. 
 Seeking, in haste, the train, 
 And found to my great annoyance, 
 That West sat near me again. 
 Throughout the weary journey 
 By his attentions pressed, 
 
 14 
 
108 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 I could but think of Harry, 
 And Ills look disturbed my rest. 
 
 At length the journey ended. 
 For longest days must close, 
 And I started from the station, 
 And hoped to find repose. 
 For it was sorely needed — 
 An hour or two at least — 
 That ere I met my brother 
 My strength might be increased. 
 I scarce was fairly started, 
 When a policeman came, 
 And, stopping the cabman, roughly 
 Inquired my home and name. 
 Answering him with clearness, 
 In spite of my heart in my throat, 
 I saw him compare my answer 
 With what I supposed some note : 
 
 " Madam," said he, " I 'm sorry ! 
 You are the woman, I think — 
 
TRIAL. 109 
 
 I have a chain of description, 
 And you are the missing link/*' 
 r said, 
 
 '" You must be mistaken — 
 I cannot see how it can be ! 
 I came in the train this evening, 
 And what can you know of me ? " 
 
 ^' The telegraph, ma'am, is the agent 
 That catches the rogues for us : — 
 You need not look so savage, 
 ' T were better to make no fuss/ ' 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I, '' Pray, tell me 
 Of what I may stand accused — 
 ^T is enough to make one savage 
 To be so roughly used/' 
 
 " The money that bought your ticket 
 Proved to be counterfeit." 
 
 "Ah ! this is revenge — the villain ! 
 
110 TEAKS AND VICTOEY. 
 
 How conld I believe the cheat ? 
 
 And he is gone ; too surely — 
 
 Whatever can I do ? 
 
 I have no friend for reference, 
 
 Though I search the city through ; 
 
 I cannot tell my brother, 
 
 And he — Alas ! I cried, 
 
 Was ever love and patience 
 
 So sorely, cruelly tried ? " 
 
 Gazing from out the window, 
 Courage and calm to win, 
 I saw at a little distance 
 The form of Harry Lynne. 
 I hailed him — Oh, so gladly ! 
 He came with wondering face ; 
 He saw the grave policeman. 
 But failed to read the case. 
 At first I could not tell him, 
 I felt so faint and weak, 
 But bowed my head in silence, 
 To hide my burning cheek : 
 
TBIAL. Ill 
 
 He, the policeman questioned, 
 Learning the truth from him, 
 And when my head I lifted 
 I saw his eyes were dim. 
 
 '• Poor dove ! " he said (full softly), 
 " The hawk has pressed you sore ! 
 But I will hunt him fiercely — 
 He shall not harm you more ! " 
 
 '* How fortunate I happened 
 
 To come upon the train ;" 
 
 He said to the policeman, 
 
 ••' I'll make the matter plain — 
 
 I saw a villain give her 
 
 The very note she paid — 
 
 He stole her purse — I'll venture ! 
 
 And search must quick be made ; 
 
 He, in the same conveyance. 
 
 Traveled with us to-day — 
 
 I'll tell you his direction, 
 
112 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 For I saw hi in go away. 
 We'll to the police station ; 
 There I will state the case 
 And save this injured victim 
 From trouble and disgrace.'' 
 
 The trying scenes are over. 
 And I am safe again — 
 Thanks to my brave deliverer ; 
 Who saved me untold pain. 
 And they have caught the villain. 
 And found the missing purse, 
 The pit he dug for another 
 Has proved to him a curse. 
 T think they have him safely, 
 And I can but feel glad, 
 For I should always fear him, 
 Since the escape I've had. 
 Now I can see my brother ! 
 Harry will go with me — 
 For I surely can't refuse him ; 
 
TRIAL. 113 
 
 When my safety is his plea ! 
 I think my " pride is lowered," 
 But hardly down to West ! 
 I'll own I need protection, 
 But I'll always choose the best. 
 
 Little, indeed, how^ little I 
 
 We know when trials end — 
 
 Alas ! for my only brother. 
 
 My strongest, surest friend ! 
 
 Living, he is, and better. 
 
 But, Oh ! what a loss to meet — 
 
 Never to walk w^ith vigor. 
 
 Upon his own strong feet. 
 
 Always a cripple — hopeless ! 
 
 One foot is buried deep ; 
 
 I could hardly bear to see him. 
 
 But slipped away in his sleep. 
 
 I know I'm weak — God help me ! 
 
 But I have had so much 
 
 To bear of late — yet, Courage ! 
 
114 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 God always helpeth such. 
 
 " Ask, and it shall be given ; ■' 
 
 " Father ! give strength, I pray, 
 
 To bear this great affliction. 
 
 And be my mother's stay ! '' 
 
 Surely my strong, young spirit 
 
 Should never grieve so sore. 
 
 When my mother's age and weakness 
 
 Will need my help the more. 
 
 Closely I'll nurse my brother. 
 
 While he shall need me here, 
 
 Then I will hasten homeward 
 
 My mother's heart to cheer. 
 
 The case seems far more hopeful, 
 On prayerful, earnest thought, 
 Than ever I hoped one hour ago 
 To deem my brother's lot. 
 There will be some to help him — 
 He was so brave and true — 
 His country will be grateful. 
 And give him honor due. 
 
TRIAL. 116 
 
 My hopes have not deceived me ; 
 
 Despairing fears were vain ; 
 
 My brother has been promoted, 
 
 And walks with ease again. 
 
 All thanks to man's invention, 
 
 And kind and friendly aid ; 
 
 Art almost rivals nature, 
 
 And all expense is paid. 
 
 Arthur is strong and useful, 
 
 Remaining at his post ; 
 
 A Captain loved and honored. 
 
 Better by far than lost. 
 
 I am at home and happy, 
 
 As erst in the olden days ; 
 
 And I think the friend who helped us 
 
 Is far above my praise. 
 
 ANSWERS. 
 
 I had questioned if Love could ever come 
 And crown a king in ray heart ; 
 
 15 
 
116 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 I had seen the gray dawn of my youth pass by. 
 
 And the sun of my womanhood rise in the sky ; 
 
 The rose tinted clouds 
 
 In blossoming crowds 
 
 Had drifted afar, and apart. 
 
 The brightness of dew had passed from the earth, 
 
 Hope's flowers were withered and dead ; 
 
 The heat and the dust of noon had come 
 
 On my poor unsheltered head. 
 
 And thirst had come to my fainting soul. 
 
 Till my heart cried out — " Alone ! " 
 
 When down through .the aisles of a shaded way 
 
 Athwart the sands of a sultry day, 
 
 To my bitter cry, 
 
 A sweet reply 
 
 Rang out in a silvery tone : 
 
 And I welcomed the clasp of a sheltering arm, 
 
 For the smile of my dreams was found — 
 
 The thirst and the heat no more were felt — 
 
 The king of my heart was crowned ! 
 
TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Oft in those last months of waiting, 
 Watching every face for news, 
 Clouds of horror hung above us, 
 Shadowing us with blackest hues : 
 Weeks would pass without a letter 
 From our periled absent ones : 
 For 'tis always when we push him. 
 Time, the laggard, slowest runs. 
 After battles, we were surest 
 Long to wait without a word ; 
 For, amid the dire confusion. 
 Friendship's calls were scarcely heard. 
 Troops advancing or retreating, 
 And the w^ounded to remove. 
 Dead and dying to be cared for, 
 Left but little time for love. 
 
120 TEAES AND VICTORY. 
 
 So we seized the weekly papers — 
 Head tlie fearful lists of names, 
 While the dread of " killed and wounded 
 Gnawed our hearts like fiercest flames. 
 Oh ! to you, remote and quiet, 
 With your loved ones by your side, 
 Faintly comes the rush of meaning 
 Which in two short words may bide. 
 Down the narrow stream of letters, 
 Names of strange and unknown men, 
 Anxious eyes in haste are gliding, 
 Never to look glad again. 
 Coming to a sudden widening — 
 Though a simple name and age — 
 How it spreads like flooding w^aters 
 Covering all the darkened page ; 
 Burying beneath its surges 
 Every hope and joy of life, 
 Smiles of love and tender comfort, 
 In a sea of blood and strife ! 
 
 So, to many a wife and maiden, 
 
TEAES AND VICTORY. 121 
 
 In the home that he made dear, 
 Came the death of friend or Imsband, 
 The fultilhnent of her fear. 
 So, amid our anxious waiting, 
 Came at last the dreaded blow, 
 Falling on my gentle sister. 
 Crushing her to earth full low. 
 After storms and wind in summer. 
 You have seen a field of grain 
 Lying still and smooth and prostrate, 
 Leveled by the heavy rain : 
 So she lay, my stricken sister. 
 When this storm of sorrow came, 
 Leaving blackened desolation 
 Like the lightening's lurid flame. 
 Thus we found her lying stilly 
 On the pleasant parlor floor. 
 Ere we knew the dreadful shadow 
 Entered at the cottage door. 
 
 From the post-man at the village 
 She had brought the paper home. 
 
122 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Daring not to read its contents, 
 Lest she be too weak to come. 
 Every step her heart beat faster — 
 So she told me afterwards — 
 And she seemed to feel a sadness 
 In the singing of the birds ; 
 Till at last, the cottage gaining, 
 She could hardly courage get 
 To. peruse the dreaded contents. 
 While suspense seemed harder yet : 
 Pressing to her throbbing forehead 
 Her cold hands, so pale and wan, 
 Murmuring a prayer for courage, 
 She had ventured bravely on. 
 Till at last she heard the rushing, 
 Saw the spreading billows roll 
 O'er his name — then waves of darkness 
 Flooded all her trembling soul. 
 
 Does the world hold words of comfort 
 Fit to soothe a grief like hers ? 
 Ah, me ! every weak endeavor 
 
TEAKS AKD ^^CTOEy. 123? 
 
 Deeper still the fountain stirs, 
 Till the overflowing sorrow 
 Threatens reason on her throne, 
 Or the precious life we cherish 
 Fondly, as we do our own. 
 
 Victor's name was written clearly 
 
 In the list among the killed. 
 
 And although our hope had struggled, 
 
 Letters, soon, its whispers stilled. 
 
 And I looked in yearning silence 
 
 On the pallid, suffering face. 
 
 On the wreck that grief had left us 
 
 Of our hopeful, happy Grace. 
 
 Gazing at the blue above me. 
 Flecked with troops of shining clouds, 
 Slowly passing from the sunset 
 Toward the purple East, in crowds. 
 Gazing thus, I can but wonder 
 How the brightness soon is lost, 
 
 16 
 
124i TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And, upon the clouds, the shadows 
 Of the purple hills are tost. 
 So it seems with scenes the fairest : 
 Oft they shine in golden gleams, 
 When the light of Hope is sending 
 Through our sky its smiling beams ; 
 Then, again, all changed and faded 
 Seem the scenes that erst were fair. 
 Tinged by shades of sombre sorrow. 
 Chilled by gloomy clouds of care. 
 
 Only one short year has flitted 
 
 Since I sat and gazed, as now. 
 
 Toward the rugged Western hill-tops, 
 
 Sunset lights upon my brow : 
 
 Spring's soft breath perfumed the evening. 
 
 On the pear tree hung its wreaths, 
 
 'Neath the rose-tree spread its velvet. 
 
 Figured o'er with shades of leaves. 
 
 All the earth seemed glad with beauty. 
 
 While, to bless his fair young bride. 
 
TEAKS AND VICTORY. 125 
 
 Victor came, and, in Love's sunshine, ' 
 All our joys were multiplied. 
 
 Now, Alas ! how dark and dreary 
 
 Seem the purple shrouded hills ! — 
 
 E'en the pale, pear- wreaths seem ghostly, 
 
 Oloom of grief my spirit fiUs. 
 
 As I sit, I hear the wailing 
 
 Of an infant's plaintive cry. 
 
 And low moans of pain come feebly 
 
 From loved lips, that soon must die. 
 
 Oh ! my loving, suffering sister ! 
 
 Oan I yield to Him who gave. 
 
 So much beauty ; so much sweetness ; 
 
 To be hidden in the grave ? 
 
 Crushed and bleeding are our heart-strings, 
 
 All the earth is darkened o'er 
 
 By the shadow of our sorrow, 
 
 Will it e'er be lifted more ? 
 
 And is this to her the measure 
 
 Of the joys of Love most sweet i 
 
 Just to lift the cup and taste it. 
 
.126 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 When 'tis shattered at her feet ? 
 For a few short months enjoying- 
 Bliss too great for lips to speak ; 
 Only once the mother's kisses 
 Pressed her infant's velvet cheek. 
 Then, aweary of the anguish 
 And her overwhelming grief, 
 She gave welcome to the Angel 
 Bringing Death's profound relief. 
 Is there naught too pure and lovely 
 For thy envious grasp. Oh ! Death % 
 Fairest form, and brightest blossom, 
 Wither 'neath thy blighting breath : 
 All we see of earthly beauty 
 Passes at thy lightest touch, 
 Till we tremble to admire. 
 Lest we miss our gem too much. 
 Blackest shadow hanging o'er me, 
 Are there rifts in clouds like you, 
 Where our eyes may catch the glory 
 Of the heaven-light streaming through 
 Open Thou these heavy eyelids, 
 
TEAKS ANT> VICTORY. 127 
 
 Blessed Healer, from the skies, 
 Till the rays of light Immortal, 
 Dry the tears from out my eyes, 
 And I see, with clearer vision, 
 ]S"ot the wreck of beauty here, 
 But the bright, immortal radiance 
 Of the spirit we held dear. 
 Only in the light of Heaven 
 Shall the full perfection be — 
 Only germs of lasting beauty 
 In the light of earth, we see : 
 And if here they seem so lovely. 
 And so much of pleasure give ; 
 What shall be the perfect blooming 
 Where the flower shall ever live ? 
 
 I have work to soothe ray sorrow ; 
 
 For, amid the bitter storm 
 
 Though the mother has found shelter, 
 
 God has left an infant form, 
 
 All too weak, and frail and helpless. 
 
 E'er to thrive without a friend ; 
 
128 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Tender offices it claimeth, 
 Patient care and love I lend : 
 Not as hoping to receive them 
 Back, in measure full and free ; 
 But, as trusting, from the waters 
 Bread will sure return to me. 
 
 Little maiden ! I will take you ; 
 Bud from stem of blighted flower : 
 While I'm living, you shall never 
 Miss a mother's love, one hour. 
 Tender, precious, folded May-bud, 
 Little more than flower or bird 
 Are you now, to wake affection, 
 Yet our warmest love is stirred ; 
 If her memory did not claim it. 
 You should have your mother's name 
 You shall always be our " May-bud," 
 To remind us when you came. 
 
TEARS AXD VICTORY. 129 
 
 VICTORY. 
 
 Joy ! in the midst of our mourning, 
 Victory, smiling, has come ! 
 Peace to our hearth-stones returneth, 
 Bringing our loved ones home. 
 Fathers and brothers and husbands, 
 Marching, a glorious band ; 
 Lovers and cousins and neighbors, 
 Dearest and best of the land. 
 How shall we give to them welcome, 
 Telling the joy that we feel ? 
 Thousands of hearts are o'erflowing 
 With pleasure too deep to reveal : 
 Thousands of bright, happy children. 
 Thousands of sisters and wives, 
 Thousands of sweet, loving maidens 
 Add this great joy to their lives. 
 Joy of the loved one's returning 
 
130 TEARS AND VICTORY. 
 
 Home with liis presence to bless, 
 Bringing to hamlet and cottage, 
 More than its old happiness. 
 True, there are homes that can never 
 Gleam with the loved one's retm-n, 
 But even in such a sad pleasure 
 Joy for our victory, shall burn. 
 
 Glory ! and Honor ! and Blessing ! 
 Be to our God who hath shown 
 That Justice and Freedom will conquer 
 And Wrong be forever overthrown. 
 
 Peace to our cottage at Elwyn, 
 Saddened by loss though it be, 
 Bringeth a joyful future. 
 Days we are longing to see. 
 Days, when the glad fruition 
 Of hopes of the years of the past, 
 Shall bring to the faithful lovers 
 The crowning of Love, at last. 
 
TEARS AND VICTORY. 131 
 
 Arthur, our valiant hero, 
 Wedded to Evalene ! 
 Will not our cottage brighten 
 And glow, in the happy scene ? 
 
 I, too, shall wait for the coming 
 Of one I have sadly misused ; 
 Whose help I rejected quite firmly ; 
 Whose love I once proudly refused. 
 I have learned, I am thinking, a lesson 
 'Twere well for a woman to know, 
 That pride will not pay her expenses, 
 Or a love that ennobles, bring low. 
 I have learned that a woman enriches 
 The man she endows with her love, 
 Be it pure, and unselfish, and faithful. 
 More than all other wealth he can have. 
 I have learned that one may be mistaken 
 In the man that her pride may refuse, 
 That she even may love him most dearly, 
 
 17 
 
132 TEAKS AND VICTORY. 
 
 And deny to herself that she does. 
 And my teacher was one who was ready 
 In the bitterest hour of my need, 
 The service he rendered my brother 
 Proved generous friendship indeed ; 
 And unless I am counted unworthy 
 Such blessing and honor to win, 
 I expect I shall be, in the Autumn, 
 The bride of the proud Harry Lynne. 
 
 WEDDING BELLS. 
 
 Wedding bells ! 
 
 Joyous bells ! 
 Echoing down the wooded dells ; 
 How the mellow music, ringing. 
 Fills my heart with happy singing, 
 Till I seem in rapture swinging 
 
 To the rythm of the bells. 
 
TEARS AND VICTORY. 133 
 
 ChimiDg bells ; 
 
 How their swells 
 Every pulsing heart-throb tells : 
 Swinging in their gleeful madness, 
 Filling all the air with gladness, 
 Driving far all thoughts of sadness. 
 
 By their sweet and tuneful swells. 
 
 Happy bells ! 
 
 Ringing knells, 
 To the doubts and sad farewells, 
 That will come 'mid all our loving, 
 While our lovers wide are roving ; 
 And we hail the glad removing 
 
 By the joyful pealing bells. 
 
 Wedding bells ; 
 
 Merry bells : 
 Cheerful, winsome, bonny bells : 
 Tell you of Love's winning sweetness, 
 
134 TEARS AND VICTOKY. 
 
 How it gives to Time its fleetness, 
 And to Life its full completeness : 
 In your music, silvery bells. 
 
MEMORIES 
 
Softly Uowing, sea-salt breeze, 
 Come over the Peaceful Sea ; 
 
 White robes throioing, over my trees ; 
 {Oh, bonny poplar tree !) 
 
 Breeze of Memory, softly roll 
 From over that sea, the Past ; 
 
 Thus in beauty, over my soul, 
 Thy robes of whitensss cast. 
 
137 
 
 MY FATHEK'S GRAVE. 
 
 'Tis many miles from here ; 
 When last I saw it, I was but a child, 
 But yet the time I do remember well. 
 The morning sermon had been duly preached, 
 The villagers had sought their quiet homes, 
 And those who from the country round had come 
 To listen to the good man's holy words, 
 Were standing here and there in little groups ; 
 Some loitered in the porch and round the steps ; 
 A few were yet remaining in their pews : 
 The prudent mother had dealt out her store 
 Of tiny pies and cakes and yellow cheese 
 To all her eager group of little ones. 
 Who, tired of sitting still and straight so long 
 Had heard with joy the benediction close, 
 And now were clustering round to wait their turn. 
 I, with my little cousins, had received 
 
138 MEMORIES. 
 
 My light repast, and, as 'twas ended now, 
 
 My mother clasped my hand and said, " Come, dear, 
 
 Now let us go and seek the old church-yard." 
 
 Gladly I went. It was our 'customed walk, 
 
 And I had learned to love the quiet spot. 
 
 Where I had often seen my mother weep. 
 
 And kneeling on the grass, when none were near, 
 
 Lay her dear hand upon my bended head. 
 
 And ask the widow's God to bless her child. 
 
 We wandered slowly through the long, dry grass, 
 
 And paused at length, beside the pure white stone 
 
 That served to mark the loved and hallowed spot. 
 
 How solemn every thought that filled my heart 
 
 As I sat down in silence by the side 
 
 Of her whose sorrow had so long endured, 
 
 And heard her tell, as often she had done. 
 
 The many virtues of the loved and lost. 
 
 Oh ! how my young heart yearned to know that love 
 
 (A father's love) which I might never know. 
 
 But yet, I had a father once — and he 
 
 Had risked his life to see his only child 
 
 When she was lying at the point of death. 
 
139 
 
 Returning from a journey, hard, and long. 
 Wearied and feeble, he had come to find 
 His much loved child the prey of a disease 
 That threatened all who came within its reach. 
 They told him he was weak, and ill could bear 
 The raging fever's tainted, pois'nous breath. 
 But " IS'o ! he feared not death, and he mtist see 
 His darling babe once more before she died." 
 Strange Providence, thy ways are truly dark ! 
 He died — the strong, supporting arm, on which 
 The loving wife and mother leaned, was taken. 
 And /, the frail and feeble infant, lived. 
 To struggle up and on in this cold world. 
 And never know again a father's love. 
 His was indeed — (as saith the words engraved 
 Upon his tombstone, which I oft have read) — 
 That ' perfect love ' which ' casteth out all fear.' 
 Both in an earthly and a heavenly sense. 
 He loved his child and feared not death from her, 
 He loved his God, and was prepared to die. 
 Whenever he should call his spirit home. 
 And need we fear when weeping o'er his grave ? 
 
 18 
 
140 MEMOKIES. 
 
 Ah i No ! but let us ask that we too may 
 Possess tliat ' perfect love which casts out fear. 
 
 OcTOBBB 26, 1857. 
 
 LINES TO MY BOY. 
 
 We miss thee. Oh t my darling boy. 
 How sadly every day, 
 
 Standing here, 
 
 The fireside near, 
 Or in the yard at play. 
 
 Sometimes I turn, and almost think 
 That I shall see thee near ; 
 O ! how I long 
 To see that form 
 That used to be so dear ! 
 
LINES TO MY BOY. 141 
 
 1 see a row of little boards 
 
 Beneath my window yet : 
 
 Thy childish care 
 
 Had placed them there. 
 To guard my feet from wet. 
 
 Oh ! hadst thou lived, my precious child, 
 Thy care might still have been 
 
 To shield my form 
 
 From every storm. 
 And lighten toils and pain. 
 
 But, then, perhaps, in after years, 
 Thou hadst been led away 
 By pleasure's wiles 
 And tempting smiles 
 From home and truth to stray. 
 
 But now thou art — O, selfish heart ! 
 How can it mourn for thee ? — 
 
142 MEMORIES. 
 
 A spirit bright 
 In heaven's light, 
 From pain forever free. 
 
 When last I talked of heaven, and asked 
 If thou its joys would know, 
 
 " Mamma, if you 
 
 Would go there, too," 
 Thou saidst, " I'd like to go." 
 
 Oh ! yes, my son, when life is done, 
 And none have need of me. 
 
 If God will hear 
 
 My earnest prayer, 
 I soon will come to thee I 
 
 Iris Hill, April 10, 1859. 
 
PARTINGS. 143 
 
 PARTINGS. 
 
 Oh, throbbing heart ! 
 
 Be calm ; 
 The hour has come to part. 
 And thou, with sudden start, 
 Showest how strong thou art, 
 
 How weak I am. . 
 
 Oh, parting hour, 
 
 Fly fast ; 
 For sad thoughts overpower. 
 And fears do dark'ning lower, 
 Like clouds before the shower. 
 
 Or wintry blast. 
 
144 MEMORIES. 
 
 The dearest one 
 
 To me 
 Of all beneath the sun : 
 Alas ! he must be gone, 
 And weary months alone 
 
 My heart will be. 
 
 True friends are dear 
 
 As rare, 
 But oft, while mingling here. 
 Their hearts have grown so near 
 That parting doth appear 
 
 Too hard to bear. 
 
 The last embrace 
 
 To give, 
 Is hard in any case, 
 Whether to death's cold face. 
 Or glowing health's full grace 
 
 With years to live. 
 
PARTINGS. 145 
 
 For we are weak 
 
 In faith ; 
 The tears pour down our cheek — 
 We dare not trust — or seek 
 Our God — confiding meek 
 
 In what he saith. 
 
 Trembling we go 
 
 In tears, 
 When we should seek to know 
 The peace that faith doth show, 
 And say, though tempests blow, 
 
 " Good- by my fears." 
 
 •' God cares for me 
 
 And mine, 
 " And when the dark hours be'' 
 Though all earth's treasures flee. 
 Still will I trust in Thee, 
 
 Spirit divine.'- 
 
146 MEMORIES. 
 
 TO A LITTLE ONE. 
 
 Darling, precious baby, 
 Thou wert very fair, 
 With thy gentle smile, 
 And thy soft, brown hair ; 
 But alas ! alas ! how frail earth's treasures are ! 
 
 Only fleeting pleasures 
 Can to earth be given. 
 Bonds of pure affection 
 Are so quickly riven ; 
 But 't is joy to know thou art laid up in Heaven. 
 
 There our pearl is shining 
 On the Saviour's breast ; 
 Pure and spotless ever, 
 Now how fully blest 
 In the glorious mansions of eternal rest. 
 
BROKEN VOWS. 147 
 
 When the flowers she loved 
 Made her low bed sweet, 
 And, tired of life and pain, 
 Grew her weary feet ; 
 3She was laid to rest in a calm reti-eat 
 
 BEOKEK YOWS, 
 
 Oh ! how often vows are broken 
 In this changing world of ours, 
 Vows that carelessly were spoken, 
 But have darkened many hours. 
 Vows of friendship, which were fondly 
 Stored in trusting hearts away, 
 Till at last we saw how blindly 
 We had trusted naught but clay, 
 Till we found that friends were seldom 
 Ever what they seemed to be. 
 That the bonds of interest held them, 
 And these broken, they were free. 
 
 19 
 
146 MEMORIES. 
 
 Yows to love and be forever 
 True to one, and one alone, 
 Deeming that " no fate could sever 
 Hearts that into one had grown." 
 Oh ! false man or changing woman ! 
 Your own hearts are little known. 
 Time can moulder all that's human, 
 Time has strongest hopes o'erthrown ; 
 Many hearts there are around us. 
 Sadly smothering their pain. 
 Fearing with their grief to wound us 
 Or to be betrayed again. 
 Pity those who bow in sorrow 
 O'er the graves of broken vows, 
 Feeling that no bright to-morrow 
 E'er will shine upon their brows. 
 Let us seek, by fond endeavor, 
 With new hopes their hearts to filL 
 Let us strive to promise, never, 
 That which we may not fulfill. 
 
CROSSING THE PLAINS. 149 
 
 CKOSSESTG THE PLAINS. 
 
 Did you ever cross the Plains, 
 Where they wear the hickory shirt, 
 Where the eyes get used to smoke, 
 And the face begrimmed with dirt ? 
 Did you cross the muddy river. 
 More noted than the Styx, 
 And begin your journey Westward, 
 ^^ All in a cart and six " ? 
 
 Have you traveled through the sand, 
 Up the famous river Platte, 
 Where the bluffs are so romantic, 
 And the water tastes so flat ! 
 Have you camped out in a hail-storm 
 When the wind was blowing high, 
 Upsetting tents and wagons. 
 And making children cry ? 
 
150 MEMORIES. 
 
 Did you get up in the morning-. 
 Feeling somewhat water-soaked ^ 
 And finding cattle missing, 
 Did you never get provoked i 
 And while you hunted cattle^ 
 Did the little muddy creek 
 Rise like a second deluge 
 And keep you there a week ? 
 
 Did you see " vast herds of bison. 
 
 Rolling like the mighty main ! " 
 
 Or was it but a couple 
 
 Five miles across the plain ? 
 
 Did you tread on rattlesnakes, 
 
 And on fields of prickly-pear, 
 
 Till you wished yourself at home again. 
 
 Or any place but there ? 
 
 Did you travel long, hot days 
 And never see a spring. 
 Till just at night you came to one 
 You fancied " just the thing" ? 
 
CROSSING THE PLAINS. 151 
 
 Did you seize a cup in haste 
 And think to drink it dry, 
 When, lo ! 'twas almost boiling hot, 
 Or strong with alkali ! 
 
 Did you see the glorious landscapes 
 
 Spread out before the eye, 
 
 As you climbed the rocky ridges, 
 
 Or stood on mountains high ? 
 
 Did your wagons tip up end-wise, 
 
 As you rattled down the hill ; 
 
 Or did you let them down with ropes 
 
 In places steeper, still ? 
 
 And lastly, though not least, 
 Did you cross the Cascade range 
 And see the noted " elephant " 
 The world would think so strange ? 
 Did you slide down " Laurel Hill," 
 When the rain was falling fast, 
 And with one yoke of " cows " 
 Did you reach the goal at last ? 
 
152 MEMORIES. 
 
 If you saw and did all this, 
 With a thousand items more, 
 I think it can't be doubted 
 You are wiser than before ; 
 Though your home's a leaky cabin, 
 When the Winter rain comes on, 
 No wonder you are well content 
 To live in Oregon. 
 
 October 25, 1858. 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 The hours are gliding slowly by, 
 
 I sit and sew, 
 
 As on they go, 
 And think and weep ; I scarce know why. 
 
 I'm thinking of another time ; 
 When far away. 
 
A REVERIE. 153 
 
 A former day, 
 When life and hope were in their prime, 
 
 I sat and sewed as I do now ; 
 
 And dreamed away 
 
 The livelong day, 
 Without a care upon my brow. 
 
 'No visions then had ever come 
 
 Of aught but joy, 
 
 Without alloy. 
 When in that other early home. 
 
 I knew not then the bitter pain, 
 
 That wrings the heart. 
 
 When we depart 
 From friends we ne'er may see again. 
 
 Nor did I know that longing wish 
 To see the face, 
 
154 MEMORIES. , 
 
 And feel the embrace, 
 And have once more a mother's kiss. 
 
 But now has come the earnest life : 
 
 Two children dear 
 
 Are sleeping near : 
 I am a mother and a wife. 
 
 My brightest early dreams of bliss, 
 
 When in my arms 
 
 I clasp those forms, 
 Are realized in one fond kiss. 
 
 But what a wealth of love we need 
 
 To bear with all 
 
 The cares that fall 
 Upon the mother's weary head. 
 
 Oh, Father ! may I act my part : 
 And grant my prayer — 
 In every care [ 
 
 To give me still a faithful heart. 
 
 August, 1858, 
 
WITH A MOSS WREATH. 155 
 
 WITH A MOSS WKEATH, 
 
 Maiden with the sunny hair, 
 
 And the cheerful eye, 
 
 Seest thou naught but what is fair 
 
 Underneath the sky ? 
 
 Or do clouds of somber hue 
 
 Hover in the West, 
 
 In future hours to shadow you 
 
 And destroy your rest ? 
 
 Maiden, there's a little thing 
 
 Growing close to earth, 
 
 Winter's storms and showers of Spring 
 
 Nourish it at birth, 
 
 But the burning Summer's sun 
 
 Scorches it to death ; 
 
 Too much blest, it is undone — 
 
 So it is wiih. fmth. 
 
156 MEMORIES. 
 
 In prosperity, we trust 
 
 To our earthly love, 
 
 Till it crumbles into dust, 
 
 Then we turn above, 
 
 From the fading treasures here 
 
 To the things unseen ; 
 
 Faith, when watered most by tears. 
 
 Like the moss^ is green. 
 
 Pebruart, 1862, 
 
 WE WERE MARRIED TO-DAY. 
 
 " We were married to-day," 
 
 I heard one say, 
 And I turned to see her face ; 
 
 There never was one 
 
 That brighter shone 
 With an earthly happiness. 
 
WE WERE MARRIED TODAY. 157 
 
 You were " married to-day " : 
 
 Ah ! well you may 
 Have a happy and a joyous heart, 
 
 For your love is true, 
 
 And its joy is new, 
 And oh, may it never depart ! 
 
 You were " married to-day,'^ 
 And the sunbeam's play 
 
 Has a brilliancy hardly its own, 
 And the dreams of youth 
 Seem founded in truth. 
 
 And into reality grown. 
 
 You were " married to-day,'" 
 And when life's way 
 
 Has year after year been passed, 
 May the memory bright 
 Of this day's delight 
 
 A beam o'er the future cast. 
 
 Marshfield Farm, May 8, 1862. 
 
158 MEMORIES. 
 
 FOE A]S^ ALBUM. 
 
 We gather shells upon the ocean shore 
 
 By far more beauteous than their life within ; 
 And words are shells — sometimes containing more 
 
 Of pleasant sound, than the live thought doth 
 mean ; 
 But oftener far, the words are thick, rough shells, 
 
 That hold within some priceless pearl of thought ; 
 And we must dive far down 'neath ocean swells 
 
 To gain the precious wealth with which they're 
 fraught. 
 
 And such, I think, are love, s^jidi friendship ; oft 
 They hold a wealth of meaning, thought 'tis in 
 
 A time-worn case, full dull, 'tis wrapt in soft 
 And tender memories, that, moss-like, cling 
 
FOR AY ALBUM. 169 
 
 Around the oft dishonored shell, and we 
 
 May find and own the priceless gem within. 
 
 Bat oft, Alas ! my search has proved to me 
 That the true pearls are rarely ever seen. 
 
 Too oft the words are glittering, meanless things, 
 
 That have no real worth or life to boast, 
 Or hide perhaps an insect life, that stings 
 
 With false ingratitude, when w^e trust most. 
 Yet evermore along the strand of time 
 
 We seek those pearls, affection's words lo find. 
 And hoard, like treasures from a distant clime. 
 
 Those which have greatest value to the mind. 
 
 Here, in your cabinet, I leave these shells, 
 
 " I love you well, I am a faithful friend,^'' 
 
 Your heart shall judge the worth that in them dwells 
 When souls like ours in Paradise shall blend. 
 
 Astoria, Julj 28, 1864. 
 
160 MEMORIES. 
 
 COUETING AT THE GATE. 
 
 I've heard folks tell how nice it is 
 
 To go to balls and plays — 
 The opera, too, is quite " the style " 
 
 For young folks now-a-days : 
 But such amusements have no charm 
 
 To please my mind of late, 
 Since I have tried a better thing — 
 
 'Tis courting at the gate ! 
 
 Perhaps you think it very strange 
 That modest youthful minds, 
 
 So careless of their secrets are, 
 And trust them to the winds ; 
 
COURTING AT THE GATE. 161 
 
 But when the old folks patiently 
 
 Will in the parlor wait, 
 Why, don't jou see, the only chance 
 
 Is — courting at the gate ! 
 
 No matter if the stars do wink. 
 They'll never tell the tale ; 
 No matter if the night-winds blow, 
 
 Love does not fear a gale ; 
 And though the moon is getting old, 
 
 And virgins old will prate. 
 She often kindly smiles on us 
 "While courting at the gate ! 
 
 The future years may hold for me 
 
 Full many a cup of bliss. 
 But naught can equal in the past 
 
 A quiet little kiss. 
 That came to me above the bars 
 
 From some one tall and straight, 
 While I upon my tip-toes stood 
 
 The other side the gate. 
 
162 MEMORIES. 
 
 I know 'tis said, and doubtless true, 
 
 That there is many a slip 
 Upon the darksome paths of earth 
 
 Eetween the cup and lip ; 
 But I am sure that when my feet 
 
 Enter the marriage state, 
 They'll be beside somebody who 
 
 Was courting at the gate ! 
 
 April 7, 1867. 
 
PICTURES 
 
Qleamings of light. 
 
 And shadows of gloom, 
 Tintings of purple and gold : 
 
 Visions of beauty 
 
 'Mid bowers of bloom, 
 The pictures that never grow old f 
 
AT EVENTIDE. 
 
 16S 
 
 AT EYENTIDK 
 
 Waiting, waiting, at eventide, 
 Out on the breezy, green hill-side, 
 
 'Mong the wilds of purple clover ; 
 The red sun slides o'er cloudy ledges, 
 Slipping, slipping between the edges 
 
 Where the earth and sky lap over. 
 
 Yeils of haze hang round the hills. 
 Gauzy nets from the mountain rills. 
 
 Catch the sunbeams in their meshes, 
 While in the East the rose-leaf cloudlets, 
 Sailing, sailing through amber outlets, 
 
 Give the snow-peaks rosy blushes. 
 
166 PICTURES. 
 
 Strange ! how strange ! we never tire 
 Of the rosy East, or the sunset's fire ; 
 
 But paint them over and over, 
 And the world will turn and gaze enchanted, 
 As erst by pleasant memories haunted. 
 
 As tenderly as a lover. 
 
 THE COMmG STORM. 
 
 Far away is heard a murmur, 
 
 Out among the forest leaves, 
 And a hasty herald zephyr 
 
 To the rose a message gives. 
 'Tis a very gentle whisper, 
 
 But the quivering, trembling rose, 
 Seems to understand its meaning, 
 
 Ere the herald onward goes. 
 
THE COMING STORM. 167 
 
 Now the distant sound increases. 
 
 As the wind comes rushing on, 
 Waking myriad forest voices, 
 
 Bending all the tree-tops down ; 
 Fresh, before, come on the breezes, 
 
 Stirring every slender flower, 
 And each tree seems waiting gladly. 
 
 Ready for the coming shower. 
 
 There a poplar stands demurely, 
 
 Never hinting aught but green, 
 Till a breath, and then a shiver. 
 
 Covers it with silver sheen ; 
 And the little yellow leaflets 
 
 That had flecked the locust trees, 
 Fall in showers of golden brightness, 
 
 Scattered by the fresh'ning breeze. 
 
 Now the wind-storm bursts upon us. 
 Every leaf is fluttering fast, 
 
 And the gloomy clouds come o'er us, 
 Driven by the rushing blast : 
 
168 PICTUllES. 
 
 See, the dust and leaves are flying, 
 Now great drops come, one by one- 
 
 I'd describe the scene still further. 
 But — the storm — it did not come. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 As I sit, a dreamy musing, 
 Musing o'er my "spirit falls, 
 
 While I gaze upon the shadows, 
 Shadows flitting o'er the walls. 
 
 There's a clustering bunch of maples. 
 Maples standing 'neath the eaves, 
 
 And the sunlight through it dances, 
 Dances like the wind-stirred leaves. 
 
SHADOWS. 169 
 
 There the tiny spots of darkness, 
 Darkness mingle with the gleams, 
 
 Here a denser mass is gliding, 
 
 Gliding, crossed by meteor beams. 
 
 Then a flash of light comes brightening, 
 Bright'ning, in a stream so wide, 
 
 For the leaves to us are turning. 
 Turning all their brightest side. 
 
 Then the darkness gathers quickly. 
 Quickly sunbeams vanish, all, 
 
 Toward us turned the dark side, shading, 
 Shading all the parlor wall. 
 
 Oh ! how like the days we're living, 
 Living shadows come and go. 
 
 Yet the steady sunlight shineth, 
 Shineth while we waver so. 
 
170 PICTURES. 
 
 Tossed about by zephyrs, often, 
 Often turning from the light, 
 
 And our life seems naught but darkness. 
 Darkness, though God shineth bright. 
 
 KISSES. 
 
 Sweet baby, mine, 
 Those lips of thine, 
 
 How often have I kissed them ! 
 Yet, strange to say, 
 Tho' given each day, 
 
 The kisses, I've not missed them ! 
 
 They're like the rill 
 
 That, from the hill, 
 
 Pours down its ceaseless treasure. 
 
KISSES. 1^1 
 
 And, in spring hours, 
 Awakes the flowers, 
 To lill the heart with pleasure. 
 
 They spring from out 
 The heart's deep fount, 
 
 The drops of love o'erflowing, 
 They ever pour 
 An endless store, 
 
 That (iosts not in bestowing. 
 
 And may they start 
 
 In thy young heart 
 Affection's beauteous flowers. 
 
 To be a joy, 
 
 Without alloy, 
 In many future hours. 
 
1 72 PICTURES. 
 
 BEEEAVED. 
 
 I saw a rose on a slender stem 
 Bend low, when breezes blew — 
 But as the days in sweetness sped, 
 In pride she reared her stately head. 
 When buds around her grew. 
 
 I saw when a cruel worm had stung 
 The hearts of the tender buds ; 
 They withered ; and the rose was left, 
 Of green surroundings, all bereft, 
 Alon3, in winds and floods ! 
 
 I saw a youthful mother clasp 
 An infant to her heart ; 
 
BEREAVED. 173 
 
 While to her glowing, hopeful face, 
 Love's charming tenderness and grace 
 Its presence did impart. 
 
 I saw the cruel sting of pain 
 
 Smite down that infant form ; 
 
 And when death's beauteous seal was set, 
 
 In grief's entire abandonment. 
 
 The mother met the storm. 
 
 Thrice to one home these tender buds 
 Of human love were given ; 
 Thrice were the hearts that loved them torn. 
 While by the angels they were borne — 
 Three buds to bloom in Heaven I 
 
 Sal£M, April 10, 1867. 
 
174 PICTURES. 
 
 FROST LESSOJS^S. 
 
 The frost-king came while we were dreaming. 
 And decked his realm with silvery white ; 
 His jewels in the trees were gleaming. 
 He fringed the graceful ferns with light ; 
 He clothed the naked weeds with' beauty — 
 Poor paupers, though he stripped them first. 
 He teaches love is ever duty, 
 E'en to the lowest and the worst. 
 
 He does his work while man reposes, 
 While night and brooding silence reign, 
 Festoons with gems the briar-roses, 
 Strung on the spider's viewless chain, — 
 
FROST LESSONS. 175 
 
 He decks the spears of lowly grasses 
 With crystal fringes pure and bright — 
 So charity in silence passes, 
 Gilding God's poor with heavenly light. 
 
 t 
 
 King Frost gives beauty, like a blessing. 
 To meanest children of the earth, 
 IS'or heeds the fact of their possessing 
 The pride of station, or of birth. 
 So heavenly love, without preferment, 
 "Will clothe the naked, though they sin, 
 As Christ gives us the wedding garment. 
 Without which none mav " enter in.-' 
 
 THE MAID AND DOYE. 
 
 A white dove lit on a maiden'^s hair. 
 And her lover thought, as he saw it there, 
 
176 
 
 PICTURES. 
 
 Oh, beauteous sight ! Oh, matcliless pair ! 
 Was ever there one more pure and fair ? 
 
 But the bird, though loved, would not remain, 
 *But sought the fields of light again, 
 And soared away o'er tlie billowy main. 
 And returned no more to the lovers twain. 
 
 Then the maiden wept as she gazed on the sea, 
 And cried, " Sweet bird, come back to me ! '' 
 But her lover said, " The bird is free. 
 In some brighter clime a home hath she. 
 
 Her white wings gleam in the orange grove. 
 
 With ever a sunny sky above." 
 
 And from that day he called his love 
 
 By the bird's sweet name, his own " White Dove.'' 
 
 But the maiden's cheek grew pale each day, 
 More calm and bright her eye's clear ray, 
 And her lover sought, in his grief, to stay 
 His gentle dove, who was flitting away. 
 
THE MAJD AND DOVE. 177 
 
 He thought liow the sm'le of her love he would miss. 
 But she said, as he stooped for her last fond kiss, 
 " I go to a brig'iter clime than this. 
 Where free I shall roam 'mid the groves of bliss." 
 
 HILL-TOPS. 
 
 Bright memories of childhood's years 
 
 We hoard like jewels rare. 
 
 And count them o'er, sometimes with tears. 
 
 For they are wondrous fair ! 
 
 Oh ! oft these treasures I unfold, 
 
 When day is crowned with sunset's gold. 
 
 And I am worn with care ; 
 
 For days, like foam -tipped billows run, 
 
 And we must mount them, one by one. 
 
178 PICTURES. 
 
 At twilight, I have often seen, 
 
 When backward I have gazed, 
 A hill-top, shining fair and green. 
 From verdant vales upraised ; 
 And on its crest a ridge of rocks. 
 Heaved upward by old earthquake shocks, 
 "With gleaming crystals blazed ; 
 But he who seeks these crystals pure 
 Must toil and weariness endure. 
 
 High, from the levels of our life, 
 
 The hills of joy emerge ; 
 
 Above the clouds of care and strife. 
 
 And seem toward Heaven to verge. 
 
 The feet of youth oft climb these heights, 
 
 In flowery paths of love's delights ; 
 
 While in the path of age, 
 
 Serenest hills of peace arise, 
 
 Whose snow-capped summits meet the skies. 
 
HILL-TOPS. 
 
 17^ 
 
 From out our valleys of the West, 
 
 The glorious hills that rise, 
 
 Have oat-looks from each lofty crest,— 
 
 'N'eath haze of autumn skies, 
 
 Like glimmering pictures of the past 
 
 By softening shades of time o'ercast, 
 
 Or dreams of Paradise. 
 
 While o'er their crags the cloud-birds whirl 
 
 Or perch in groups of white and pearl. 
 
 So, from reflection's valleys tower 
 The poet-hills of thought. 
 And, climbing to their heights of power, 
 • The poet's work is wrought, 
 And passion-heats, like earthquake shocks, 
 Evolve the crystals from the rocks, 
 With wondrous beauty fraught ; 
 And, from the cloud-wreathed holy place. 
 The man descends with shining face. 
 
 December, 1869. 
 
180 PICTURES. 
 
 THOUGHTS. 
 
 Oh, for the power to give my thoughts a tongue ! 
 
 Could I but catch them ere they flit away, 
 The bright, fantastic, crowding, glittering throng. 
 How many hearts would echo back my song. 
 
 And bid me sing again to cheer their way ! 
 
 'Tis sweet to find there are some kindred hearts 
 
 So nicely tuned in unison with ours. 
 That, when we touch a common chord, it starts 
 An answering tone in all the leading parts, 
 
 And fills w^th echoes sweet the spirit's boweri 
 
 Oft when I tread the common paths of earth 
 Some tiny form of beauty meets my eye, 
 Some modest child of I^ature, low by birth — 
 
THOUGHTS. 181 
 
 (But here position proves no gauge of worth, 
 For Nature seldom sets her jewels high) — 
 
 And when I spy at first the beauty rare, 
 
 My tliought springs up to catch its image fleet, 
 
 And 'grave it on my heart in lines as fair 
 
 With every pencil touch of sun and air, 
 
 And give it life again in numbers sweet. 
 
 But often when I please myself the best, 
 
 x\nd swells my heart with a discoverer"^ s pride, 
 I find some ancient author has expressed 
 My thought of beauty, far more richly dressed — 
 My wild-wood path has oft before been tried. 
 
 And yet I will not scorn the path to tread, 
 Nor bury in my heart the gems I find, 
 
 But raise them up, and place them on my head ; 
 
 Perchance, upon some eye their lustre shed, 
 
 The way may brighten and enrich the mind. 
 
 Brookside, June 23, 1863. 
 
183 PICTURES. 
 
 MY FRIEND. 
 
 There'is a man among the crowd, 
 
 A friend whom you have often met, 
 Whose head in deepest thought is bowed, 
 Who seldom talks, or laughs aloud. 
 Whom you could easily forget. 
 
 He seems so passionless and cold. 
 
 So heedless is, of beauty's charm, 
 That you have thought his heart was old, 
 Or that his nature could not hold 
 
 A true affection, deep and warm. 
 
 And you have joined the merry jest, 
 And often laughed at his expense, 
 
MY FRIEND. 183 
 
 And when he baffled all your quest, 
 And showed no feeling (as you guessed), 
 
 You thought perhaps, 'twas lack of sense. 
 
 You did not note the little start. 
 
 Or see the shadow in his eye, 
 Or know that far within his heart, 
 A little chamber stands apart, 
 
 With windows shaded carefully. 
 
 And in that chamber is a name 
 
 Upon a tablet clearly traced, 
 More sacred than the vestal flame, 
 Dearer to him than voice of fame. 
 
 Or, all the charms of fairest mce. 
 
 It may be, that the soul is gone 
 
 That to that name its value lent, 
 Or sadder still, that hope has flown, 
 And left within the chamber lone, 
 That tablet for a monument. 
 
184 PICTURES. 
 
 Oh, friend ! take down tlie curtains there. 
 
 And ope the windows of thy heart, 
 Let in the warm and sunny air, 
 Perhaps some bird of hope more fair 
 
 Will come and dwell and ne'er depart. 
 
 Astoria, August, 1864. 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 Always waiting ! always waiting ! 
 
 For a time that never comes ; 
 Maid and wife, in hope, are sitting, 
 
 In the quiet of their homes. 
 Never heart but has its burden. 
 
 Which it bears with different grace ; 
 Some with brave and smiling patience, 
 
 Ever wear a cheerful face ; 
 
WAITING. 185 
 
 Othei's sad, and gruff, and gloomy, 
 
 Bj themselves are most oppressed ; 
 Adding greatly to the burdens 
 
 On the hearts who love them best, 
 All are waiting for some morrow 
 
 When their troubles will be gone ; 
 When, their cherished wishes granted, 
 
 They may travel blithely on. 
 
 Thinking they can see the limit 
 
 To the wants that make them sore 
 But alas ! with all their pruning. 
 
 Earth's desires but grow the more, 
 Fruitless longings, wants, and wishes, 
 
 Ever waste the soil of time ; 
 Let us hope they do not flourish 
 
 In that other, fairer clime. 
 
 Death will come and find us waiting 
 For that time which cannot be : 
 
186 PICTURES. 
 
 Searching for a fruit which groweth 
 
 Only in Eternity. 
 All the wants of an immortal 
 
 Few short years cannot supply, 
 Only God, and endless ages, 
 
 Can the spirit satisfy. 
 
 SUNSET ON THE OCEAN. 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 Oh ! glorious sky ! 
 Hanging over the river's mouth, 
 The broad Columbia gliding by, 
 With its myriad waters from North and South 
 While a soft white haze is gathering o'er 
 The calm, blue waters from shore to shore. 
 How dost thou charm ray feasting eye, 
 
 Oh ! beautiful river ! 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
SUNSET ON THE OCEAN. 187 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 Oh ! glorious sky ! 
 Thou seem'st a warm, bright sea of gold, 
 Where the cloudlet isles in beauty lie 
 Over another sea blue and cold ; 
 While the hazy mountains across the bay 
 Seem sinking to sleep with the closing day, 
 And the dashing waves go singing by. 
 
 While I drink thy beauty, 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 Oh ! shining sky ! 
 Where the great river meets the sea, 
 Over the cape that rises high, 
 The bright air almost dazzles me, 
 So full of a golden dust, it seems 
 Like the stuff of which we weave our dreams ; 
 But the gorgeous pageant passes by, 
 
 And thy glory fades — 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 24 
 
188 PICTURES. 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 Oh ! glorious sky ! 
 How oft thy beauty to earth is given, 
 Thou seem'st the dawn of Eternity, 
 The radiant gates of a glorious Heaven : 
 Though ' eye hath not seen, nor heart conceived, 
 The bliss of that land may be believed. 
 When we look at the glory hung on high, 
 
 In thy gorgeous clouds, 
 
 Oh ! sunset sky ! 
 
 AsTOBiA, August 26, 1864. 
 
 SNOW PICTUEES. 
 
 The snow came down in the quiet night, 
 And spread o'er the earth its mantle white 
 It gave to all forms new power to please, 
 It covered the limbs of the naked trees 
 
SNOW PICTURES. 189 
 
 With narrow strips of the swan's soft down, 
 
 And hung her plumes on the branches brown ; 
 
 It bent with grace the boughs of firs, 
 
 It tipped them all with silvery burrs ; 
 
 It capped for the fence each rod and post, 
 
 Till they looked like an army's marshaled host ; 
 
 A sugar-loaf crown to my rose-tree gave, 
 
 And made of each fox-glove mound a grave ; 
 
 And the slender top of my hemlock tree 
 
 Is a graceful arch most fair to see : 
 
 While the clothes-line, stretched from post to tree, 
 
 Some telegraph cable huge might be ; 
 
 And the children think, while gazing out. 
 
 That old Santa Claus is having a rout. 
 
 And has filled the trees with Christmas toys, 
 
 Perhaps for the fairy girls and boys. 
 
 The clouds are piled like snow-banks high 
 Against the faint blue Eastern sky. 
 And over all, the sunshine bright 
 Fills the pure air with dazzhng light, 
 
190 PICTURES. 
 
 Till the trees are forced without a sound 
 
 •To drop their jewels on the ground ; 
 
 Coming from out the tree-tops tall. 
 
 Shivered to atoms as they fall — 
 
 They gleam like silv^er dust most bright, 
 
 When seen in the melting sunbeams' light — 
 
 But hark ! the children's cheeks do blanch, 
 
 To the rush of a mimic avalanche, 
 
 As down the roof, with a crashing sound. 
 
 The snowy sheet slides to the ground — 
 
 Like a cataract's dashing spray it seems. 
 
 As between the sun and our eyes it gleams 
 
 For only an instant, and then is gone. 
 
 It is seldom our eyes may gaze upon 
 
 Such scenes as this, in far Oregon, 
 
 But beauty — the blessing — becomes most fair 
 
 When 'tis like our snow-gems, ^' rich and rare." 
 
MY LOVE. 191 
 
 MY LOYE. 
 
 She's a plump little lady, with very square toes, 
 
 And fashionable gold-red hair, 
 A sunbeam lit on her little pug nose. 
 
 And turned to a freckle there. 
 
 She has " taking " ways, when she takes the air. 
 
 For she sports a lengthy trail, 
 And its graceful curves may well compare 
 
 With those of a yearling whale. 
 
 Her dress was " gored " by no Irish bull, 
 
 But a Paris modiste's shears. 
 And though the bottom is very full, 
 
 It seems to be chiefly arrears. 
 
192 PICTURES. 
 
 Her " saucer " for bonnet the smallest extreme, 
 Neither shelters her nose nor her eyes, 
 
 And perched on her organ of self esteem 
 Is a " rat '' of enormous size. 
 
 Now should I object to this '• horrid hair," 
 Or address her dress with my jokes. 
 
 She would say, with a very much injured air, 
 " /V/i obliged to he lilie other folks ^^ 
 
 A REPORT. 
 
 We went to the supper last night, 
 My wife, '' the old lady,'- and I, 
 
 And we thought it unfortunate quite 
 
 That demand should not equal supply. 
 
A REPORT. 193 
 
 The tables were groaning, they said, 
 
 AVith the good things they bore ; but I own 
 
 That amid the confusion of sounds 
 I couldn't distinguish a groan. 
 
 There was talking and laughter and song, 
 But it puzzled me much to find out, 
 
 Though I listened for ever so long, 
 
 What the talk or the song w^as about. 
 
 The laughter, 'twas easy to see. 
 
 Was because they were pleased with the view 
 When I'm hungry, I always do like 
 
 To look at good victuals ; don't you ? 
 
 There was beauty of feature and form, 
 
 And fragrance of breath and of flowers ; 
 
 I am sure that no one could object 
 To eat such a supper for hours. 
 
194 PICTURES. 
 
 We sat near some young folks awhile ; 
 
 My wife^ she was anxious to hear, 
 And she whispered to me with a smile, 
 
 " How foolish they're talking, my dear ! " 
 
 " Why, really," I said, " I'm surprised 
 
 To hear such a thonght from your tongue, 
 
 For courting is doubtless as wise 
 
 As it was in the days we were young." 
 
 THE FAKMER AND THE MUSE. 
 
 Sweet, sunny May, perfumed and gay, 
 Peeps in at my door this morn, 
 
 A- wooing me, with songs of glee, 
 To go — " and plant my corn." 
 
THE FARMER AND THE MUSE. 195 
 
 O'er hills and streams, sweet poet-dreams 
 
 Are flitting to and fro ; 
 'No doubt some men would take the pen, 
 
 But I—" shall take the hoe," 
 
 In woody bowers, the haunts of flowers, 
 
 'Tis sweet to take one's ease ; 
 I think each sight delicious, quite. 
 
 And so — ^' are early peas." 
 
 The robin's song is sweet and long, 
 And 'neath the porch the wrens 
 
 Are building nests ; but I like best 
 The — " cackling of the hens." 
 
 I never see on blushing tree. 
 
 The apple blossoms hung. 
 But thoughts arise of " Autumn's pies," 
 
 And — " quartered apples strung.'- 
 
 1 ne'er could see how men could be 
 So blind^to Nature's charms, 
 
 25 
 
196s PICTURES. 
 
 When dales and hills, and sparkling rills 
 Compose — " such splendid farms." 
 
 Utility and poetry 
 
 In this great age are growing ; 
 " If I'd the say, to make things pay^ 
 
 I'd set the Muse to hoeing P 
 
 The wisest way, I'm free to say, 
 If all were of your notion ; 
 
 For money's sake such men would make 
 A mill-pond of the ocean ! 
 
 But some there be who love to see, 
 
 The beauties of creation, 
 "Without the bane of greedy gain. 
 
 Or thought of desecration. 
 
 The farmer deemed this wisdom gleamed 
 More purely bright than Plato's ; 
 
 He hired the Muse to state his views, 
 And paid her in — potatoes 1 
 
THE FAKMEK AND THE MUSE. 197 
 
 The cunning wight, thus fee'd to write, 
 
 Each verse to suit him ended, 
 But when " to grass " he sent the lass, 
 
 Her wrath in words descended. 
 
 " Ungrateful man," she said, " how can 
 
 You treat a lady badly ? " 
 You, like your wheat, are mixed with cheat. 
 
 And need a thrashing sadly. 
 
 " Like your own swine, you live to dine ; 
 
 You starve your higher nature ; 
 You may be sure you^ll ne'er secure 
 
 My vote for legislature." 
 
 AUTUMIT BIEDS. 
 
 Bright are the birds of the early Spring, 
 Flitting about in the sunny air. 
 
198 PICTURES. 
 
 Mellow and sweet are the songs they sing, 
 Graceful and light the forms they bear ; 
 
 Myriads glance with glistening wing, 
 Decking the tree-tops everywhere. 
 
 Summer comes, and the birds sit still, 
 
 Cooling themselves in the quiet shade, 
 
 Only at twilight their voices thrill 
 
 Wandering lovers adown the glade, 
 
 Or the early morning hours they iill 
 
 With the overflow of their serenade. 
 
 Brighter than birds of Spring e'er seen, 
 When in their gayest colors dressed ; 
 
 Silent as birds in bowers of green, 
 
 Taking their Summer noon-tide rest ; 
 
 Flying in numberless flocks, I ween. 
 
 Are the birds I see from my window nest. 
 
 They are birds of Autumn, " rich," not " rare," 
 Clad in the robes the frost-king weaves ; 
 
AUTUMN BIRDS. 199 
 
 Borrowing wings from the gusty air ; 
 
 Out from the maples 'neath the eaves, 
 They're soaring, darting everywhere ; 
 
 Those gorgeous birds, the Autumn leaves. 
 
 Whirling down from the trembling tree, 
 
 Circling up from the wind-swept ground. 
 
 Fluttering by in a lightsome glee, 
 
 Rustling troops, my birds abound ; 
 
 And a song of the past, they sing to me. 
 
 Which my heart drinks in, though it is not sound. 
 
 Salem, November, 1865. 
 
 WIND OF THE SEA. 
 
 Oh! Wind of the Sea, 
 So fresh and free. 
 Over the billows thou comest to me ; 
 Bearing along. 
 On thy pinions strong, 
 
200 PICTURES. * 
 
 The murmuring waters' echoing song ; 
 What dost thou tell of the ocean caves 
 Lying far down 'neath the emerald waves ? 
 Hast thou a magical charm in tliee, 
 Which there thou hast found, Oh Wind of the Sea ? 
 Wind of the Sea ! 
 
 Is that magic charm 
 
 A healing balm, 
 Found in the deepest depths so calm ? 
 
 'Mid tlieir hidden wealth, 
 
 Is the gem of health 
 Treasured up with a miser's stealth ? 
 Sing thy songs to my listening ear ; 
 Fill my veins with thy gladsome cheer ; 
 Tell thy chariest secrets to me ; 
 I will listen well — Oh, Wind of the Sea I 
 
 Wind of the Sea ! 
 
WIND OF THE SEA. 201 
 
 On this rocky crest 
 
 I am sitting at rest, 
 GaziDg far out to the billowy West ; 
 
 Songs dost thou bring 
 
 On thy buoyant wing, 
 Which tell of those isles, where the beautiful Spring, 
 ISTursed in the lap of the Summer dwells, 
 Girt with a zone of musical shells. 
 Filling thine airy chambers for thee 
 With her fragrant breath. Oh, Wind of the Sea ? 
 
 Wind of the Sea! 
 
 Or wouldst thou tell 
 
 Of the fiends that dwell 
 In the caves 'neath the ocean mountains' swell ? 
 
 Whose shrieks ring clear 
 
 On the sailor's ear, 
 When their stormy revels the waves uprear ; 
 Who toss and drag down the unfortunate bark. 
 That they may feast, in their caverns dark. 
 
202 PICTURES. 
 
 While the burden of mischief is laid upon thee, 
 In thj generous innocence, Wind of the Sea ? 
 Wind of the Sea ! 
 
 Then dost thou sigh, 
 
 And wonder why 
 So many thou lovest are doomed to die ? 
 
 And, under the wave, 
 
 When thou canst not save, 
 Dost thou seek to hollow a friendly grave ? 
 And, after the burial sad is o'er, 
 Dost thou chant a dirge to the list'ning shore, 
 More thrilling than songs of earth can be. 
 So mournfully deep. Oh Wind of the Sea ? 
 
 Wind of the Sea ! 
 
 Then come to me. 
 Sweet Wind of the Sea ; 
 Come in thy gentleness ; come in thy glee ; 
 Come in thy woe ; 
 Murmur and blow : 
 
WIND OF THE SEA. 203 
 
 Come to niv bosum — I love thee so ; 
 
 Sing to my heart thy tender est song ; 
 Show thou art gentle — we know thou art strong ; 
 Kiss my warm cheek, and my brow bare to thee— 
 I love thy caresses, Oh, Wind of the Sea ! 
 Wind of the Sea I 
 
 Astoria, August, 1864. 
 
 HOME PICTUKES. 
 
 Come I if you care 
 
 For pictures most fair. 
 
 That brighten the homes of the lowly. 
 
 All over our land. 
 
 Done by the hand 
 
 Of Love, that artist most holy. 
 
204 PICTURES. 
 
 Here, on my knee, 
 
 Laughing at me. 
 
 This is the picture I'd show you ; 
 
 How his eyes shine, 
 
 This baby of mine, 
 
 YouM say he was sweet, if I know you. 
 
 IS'ow for the show ! 
 
 A moving tableau, 
 
 ('Tis only the baby undressing,) 
 
 Loosen the strings. 
 
 Slip the wee things 
 
 Off the plump limbs they were pressinij 
 
 Dimples and curves, . 
 
 Delicate nerves. 
 
 See, how he starts when you touch him I 
 
 Sister and brother 
 
 Crowd close to mother. 
 
 Ever delighted to watch him. 
 
HOME PICTURES. 205 
 
 Eound, dimpled chin — 
 
 Yelvety skin — 
 
 Smother the darling with kisses ! 
 
 How perfect his hand ; 
 
 Do you think, in the land, 
 
 There's a baby that's sweeter than this is ? 
 
 Kicely he feels ! 
 
 His rose-tinted heels 
 
 Like bird-wings, are liuttering and %ing ; 
 
 Slip on his gown — 
 
 That makes him frown — 
 
 Don't spoil the bright picture by crying. 
 
 Now, as he lies. 
 
 He seems to my eyes. 
 
 With the children thus bending around him ; 
 
 Repeating the scene 
 
 Of that Infant serene, 
 
 Who rejoiced the wise men when they found him. 
 
 Salem, January, 1868. 
 
206 • nCTlTEES. 
 
 WINDOW GLIMPSES. 
 
 Up in a chair, from the window peeping, 
 " Little one, what do you see out there ? " 
 Gleams of delight from your eyes are leaping : 
 Ah the scene is wondrous fair : 
 Snow-wTeaths hang from the vining roses, 
 Icy spears from the fir trees gleam, 
 Wonderful shapes in the garden closes 
 Prove " things are not what they seem." 
 
 There is a curious bending figure. 
 Like a cowled monk of the olden time, 
 And snow-capped warriors guard with rigor 
 The garden fence, in martial line ; 
 Boxes that shelter the tender flowers 
 Ard marble slabs of burnished white, 
 
* WINDOW GLIMPSES. 207 
 
 And a trailing vine is a fairy bower, 
 With jewels hung for the fay's delight. 
 
 The stream goes by with swiftest rushes, 
 As if it feared the ice-king's chain ; 
 It bathes in spray the bending bushes. 
 And decks them with a crystal rain. 
 It dashes round white capes and islands 
 All edged with icy fringes rare ; 
 The forces gathered in the high-lands 
 It sports in whirls and dimples there. 
 
 In flocks the snow-birds chirp and flutter, 
 Shaking from out the trees bright showers ; 
 Low words of sweet content they utter ; 
 I think they never miss the flowers. 
 Wonderful things the baby thinks them, 
 Peeping out from his window-nook ; 
 Closely his chain of memory links them. 
 The snow and sunshine, birds and brook. 
 
 JA.NUART 26, 1868. 
 
208 PICTURES. 
 
 MOODS. 
 
 Moods, not tenses, is my theme — 
 
 I seek my bed and try to dream. 
 
 But toss upon my thorny pillow. 
 
 Like foam upon the wind-rocked billow ; 
 
 I rise and seek my pen and paper, 
 
 And, lighted ])y the " midnight taper,'' 
 
 I find my head a stream of rhyme — 
 
 Tm sure to hit it every time ! 
 
 I can rhyme anything under the sun, 
 
 From a diamond ring to a penny bun. 
 
 I am " in the mood," as Holland says. 
 
 And 'twould do as nmch good to start to Fez 
 
 With a one-mule team, or a yoke of sheep. 
 
 As to chase a dream to the land of sleep. 
 
 I believe in moods, for 1 know " they work," 
 
 I can ride over roods with the gait of a Turk, 
 
MOODS. 209 
 
 On the back of my pen, with my fingers astride. 
 
 "With a knowing ken doth my spirit ride. 
 
 The Quakers plain are a quiet folk, 
 
 On their dress no stain, on their lips no joke, 
 
 And they move each week in the same old grooves, 
 
 But they always speak when the spirit moves. 
 
 I sometimes think when I hear folks sing, 
 
 With a knowing wink, " Moods are not the thing,'' 
 
 That the reason, you see, they disliked them was, 
 
 Xot in you, or me, but simply because, 
 
 Like the farmer's son, who objected to wives, 
 
 " They never had one in all their lives ! " 
 
 DEW DROPS. 
 
 Beautiful dew-drops, glittering bright ; 
 Shining clear in the sunbeam's light ; 
 Waving to and fro in the trees. 
 As their leaves are tossed by the morning breeze, 
 
210 PICTURES. 
 
 Hanging like pearls on each tiny spra}^ 
 
 Till the bird's light wing shall brush them away ; 
 
 Glancing here and there in the grass, 
 
 Bathing the children's feet as they pass, 
 
 Bright'ning their morning way to school, 
 
 Making the air so fresh and cool ; 
 
 Nestling down in the floweret cups 
 
 That gladly keep the tiny drops, 
 
 Till the brilliant morning sunbeams come, 
 
 Then tilled with fragrance send them home. 
 
 Beautiful dew-drops, why are ye given ? 
 
 Why do ye come each night from Heaven I 
 
 Why are ye sent but to tell us all 
 
 How bounteously life's blessings fall ? 
 
 Why do ye come, yet never remain, 
 
 But to teach us our blessings must go again ? 
 
 And may we learn from the grateful flower 
 
 To yield life's gems in the morning hour ; 
 
 And the souls that to our trust are given, 
 
 With the fragrance of praise, send back to Heaven. 
 
WOODLAND VOICES. 
 
Voices I heard, 
 Ringing so clear, 
 
 Ecery sweet word 
 My heo/rt would liear. 
 
SUMMER RAIN. 213 
 
 SUMMEE EAm. 
 
 List, Oh, sky, to myriad voices 
 Whisperino; from the earth, low lying, 
 Parched and thirsty, and the tree-tops 
 Sadly echo, "' We are dying ! " 
 
 Come, sweet rain, and give us blessing ; 
 Come, and fill our veins with sweetness ; 
 We have tried in vain without thee, 
 To achieve our life's completeness. 
 
 Fruit must fail, and seed must wither, 
 If we have no helpful showers ; 
 We have drained the earth of moisture 
 In these long and dusty hours. 
 
214 WOODLAND VOICES, 
 
 Then the sky drew down her curtains 
 To the hill-top's distant edges : 
 Round the sun's descending splendor 
 Yapors streamed in dusky wedges. 
 
 And, with night, a storm came roaring 
 Fiercely through the garden closes, 
 Wrenching from the vine its tendrils, 
 Buds and leaflets from the roses. 
 
 But the morning blazed with jewels, 
 Swung from every leaf their brightness, 
 And the plants, in freshest coloring. 
 Tossed their heads with airy lightness. 
 
 To the sky, in sweetest music, 
 Sang the myriad happy voices : 
 " Though the blessing beat us sorely, 
 Spite of pain, the heart rejoices ! " 
 
TO THE MEADOW LARK. 215 
 
 TO THE MEADOW LAEK. 
 
 Beauteous child of melody, 
 Singing from out that old oak tree, 
 Perching thyself on the topmost bough, 
 Who can rival thy music now ? 
 Scattering song on the morning breeze. 
 Like a shower of rain-drops from the trees. 
 Telling the listener's heart of Spring, 
 Gilding with hope-light everything. 
 Hopping about in the sunny hours 
 On the yard's gay carpet of yellow flowers. 
 Thy breast so like, thou wert hardly seen. 
 If thy feathers were only tipped with green, 
 But the russet brown of thy humble wdng 
 Is like leaves that grew in a former Spring- 
 
216 WOODLAND VOICES. 
 
 They are withered now, and lie scattered round, 
 
 Enriching and shielding the fruitful ground ; 
 
 And thy coat is so like those dead leaves sere, 
 
 That thy voice must tell us when thou art near. 
 
 Cheerily now thy warblings fall 
 
 (Jn my listening ear, and I treasure them all 
 
 Up in the choicest nook of my heart, 
 
 Hoping their gladness may never depart. 
 
 Often I wake in the cool spring night. 
 
 And listen to thee with a deep delight. 
 
 Breaking out in a trill so long. 
 
 Filling the still night air with song. 
 
 Waking the echoes at midnight hours, 
 
 Shaking the dew from the sleeping flowers, 
 
 " Say, art thou waking from some bright dream, 
 
 Or gazing with joy on the moonlit scene ? " 
 
 A treasure thou art of value untold, 
 
 Yielding us music that never grows old. 
 
 But tell me sweet lark, why so happy thou art ? 
 
 Joyous thy song, and buoyant thy heart, 
 
 Why dost not grieve for plumage more rare. 
 
 Complaining to others of " nothing to wear ? " 
 
TO THE MEADOW LARK. 217 
 
 How canst thou sport in the radiant light 
 While many are dressed in colors more bright i 
 The bird flitted by, but sang as he went, 
 '' I'm teaching a lesson of sweet content." 
 
 July 12, 1858. 
 
 SONG OF THE SUMMEE NIGHT. 
 
 Brightly the moonbeams glance 
 On the silver-poplar leaves, 
 While gleefully they dance 
 
 To a song my fancy weaves. 
 
 " Swiftly blowing, 
 
 Sea-salt breeze, 
 
 From over the ' Peaceful Sea,' 
 
 White robes throwing 
 
 Over my trees, 
 
 Bring thy music to me." 
 
218 WOODLAND VOICES. 
 
 Oh, breath of the Summer night, 
 
 Whispering soft and low, 
 What dost thou say to the trees 
 
 That makes them tremble so ? 
 The poplar was darkly green. 
 
 But now it is ghostly white, 
 Gleaming with silvery sheen ; 
 
 Is it stricken pale with fright ? 
 What is the tale thou dost tell, 
 
 Heard oft in the dewy eves, 
 Murmurings sweet from afar, 
 
 Stirring the pointed leaves. 
 Till they twinkle like yonder star ? 
 
 I am sure they know full well. 
 Though now thou art soft and warm. 
 
 Thou art fickle and cold at heart. 
 
 Remembering what thou art 
 In hurricane and in storm. 
 
 Love and caresses are sweet. 
 
 Thrilling the soul with delight. 
 
SONG OF THE SUMMER NIGHT. 219 
 
 Tones that are gentle we greet, 
 
 Like sighing of breezes at night, 
 
 But, ah ! if the lover be calm 
 
 When smooth is the flow of the blood. 
 But fierce in his passionate mood, 
 
 Such love should bring us alarm. 
 
 As the changeable winds that sigh 
 So tenderly over the leaves. 
 
 In Summer ; when Autumn is nigh. 
 
 Are turned to a power that bereaves : 
 
 So the love of a passionate heart 
 
 Will bless in its Summer, alone, 
 But its tempest will wither its own, 
 
 Bidding blossom and beauty depart. 
 
 Salem, September 16, 1870. 
 
220 WOODLAND VOICES. 
 
 VIOLETS. 
 
 One night, as dews were falling, 
 I sat, with head bent low, 
 And I heard the violets calling, 
 While the West was all aglow ; 
 They called to the sweet-eyed daisies. 
 With piping voices shrill, 
 " The beautiful Spring is coming. 
 We've seen her smile, on the hill. 
 
 " Her voice has waked the wild-flowers, 
 
 The butter-cup has heard. 
 
 And the wood prepares her bowers 
 
 With buds for the early bird ; 
 
 Then wake, and call your neighbors, 
 
 Snow-Drop and Daffodil, 
 
VIOLETS. 221 
 
 For the garden-flowers should equal 
 The wild ones on the hill." 
 
 But March, the gruff old lion, 
 
 Was playing lamb, at iirst, 
 
 And the breeze he feigned to sigh on, 
 
 In sudden fury burst, 
 
 And the daffodils and daisies 
 
 Stood trembling and afraid, 
 
 And shivered 'neath the snow-wreaths 
 
 That on their heads were laid. 
 
 But the violets, true hearted, 
 With faces bright and brave, 
 Till the terrible storm departed. 
 Bowed low in a snowj grave. 
 Then, raising heads of beauty, 
 They sang in chorus, all — 
 " 'Twere better to bloom too early. 
 Than never to bloom at all." 
 
 Salbm, March 13, 1870. 
 
222 WOODLAND VOICES. 
 
 CROCUS BUDS. 
 
 On yester-morn I said, 
 
 " I'll seek m}^ crocus bed, 
 And see if any leaves or buds are growing ; " 
 
 I looked, and there I found, 
 
 Above the brown, bare ground, 
 A few green, slender spears their points were showing. 
 
 " Ah ! little ones," said I, 
 
 " In all this sunshine, why 
 Are you not putting on your robes of beauty ? 
 
 In every field of work 
 
 We find the sloth, and shirk, 
 But garden-dwellers mostly do their duty." 
 
 Next morning, as I walked. 
 And to my flowers talked, 
 
CROCUS BUDS. 223 
 
 My crocus buds were up an inch, or higher ; 
 
 All purple, white and gold, 
 
 Above the brown, wet mold, 
 As delicate as I could well desire. 
 
 Ah ! thought 1, would we heed. 
 
 Or ever stoop to read. 
 The quiet lessons of these teachers lowly. 
 
 We might the image see 
 
 Of true humility, 
 And learn a brave obedience, pure and holy. 
 
 Salbm, March 1, 1870. 
 
 SNOW BIRDS. 
 
 A little one saw the white doves sailing 
 
 Afar in the sunny sky, 
 
 And she said, " Come down to me, little white specks, 
 
 Why are you there so high ? " 
 
 " They are birds," said Mamma, " swiftly flying, 
 
224 WOODLAJSTD VOICES. 
 
 And cannot hear you call, 
 
 Sometime they may come and settle near 
 
 Then you can count them all ! '■ 
 
 The clouds were gray, as the days grew colder, 
 
 And the birds were seen no more, 
 
 And the snow-flakes came in multitudes down 
 
 Close by the little one's door. 
 
 She stood and watched them awhile intently. 
 
 Then earnestl}^ did she call, 
 
 '' The little white birds are come. Mamma, 
 
 But I never can count them all." 
 
 January 18, 1869. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
As, straying through some woodland wild, 
 We gather flowers, and moss, and fern. 
 To press between the leaves we turn ; 
 
 In after days, of scent beguiled, 
 
 The flowers are lost; their fragrance stays, 
 
 And 'tween the leaves remains always ; 
 
 So may the sweetness good thoughts lend, 
 
 Perfume these pages to the end. 
 
THE HELPmO HAND. 227 
 
 THE HELPING HAND. 
 
 While lying here upon my bed, 
 With darting pains that pierce my head, 
 How do I long for friends to soothe 
 And bathe my brow with fingers smooth. 
 
 So in the darkest hours of life, 
 When in the thickest of the strife, 
 We ever long for helping hands, 
 From one who, calm, in safety stands. 
 
 And when I think of death's dark vale. 
 Where every earthly friend must fail, 
 How do I shrink with fear and dread, 
 Alone its unknown paths to tread. 
 
228 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Though crowds of weeping friends may stand 
 Around my bed, no venturous hand 
 Will dare to lift the shadowy vail, 
 Or meet with me " the boatman pale." 
 
 So then I see it as I ought ; 
 Since help of earth is vainly sought, 
 What friends or wealth cannot provide, 
 We can but seek the other side. 
 
 I gaze into the darksome night, 
 
 And through the vail there shines a light, 
 
 Softly it beams upon my path, 
 
 And seems to gild the form of death. 
 
 And see ! above the gloomy grave 
 A helping hand is stretched, to save ; 
 It is a friend's — I know — I see — 
 That hlessed Hcmd was pierced for me. 
 
 Salem, November 20, 1865. 
 
PATIENCE. 229 > 
 
 PATIENCE. 
 
 Over and over the world is turning, 
 Over and over our work is done, 
 Over and over the New Year bringeth 
 Gathering storm and brightening sun. 
 
 Over and over the robin singeth. 
 Nor frets that his song is the self-same one, 
 Over and over the sunset picture 
 Hangs in the West when the day is done. 
 
 Over and over the lines of beauty 
 Are traced in Nature, to teach the eye, 
 Over and over sweet melody ringeth. 
 That the ear and the heart may learn thereby. 
 
230 MISCELLANEOUS, 
 
 Over and over our daily labor 
 Measures our lives to a rytlim the same^ 
 And fires of trial, or waves of sorrow, 
 Polish and cleanse by flood and flame. 
 
 Over and over the lessons of patience, 
 Moulding our hearts to God-like grace. 
 Ever repeating line and precept, 
 Fit us to stand before his face, 
 
 Salem, January, 1870. 
 
 THE PKIJSrCESS. 
 
 Here before my window, stands 
 
 A princess, famed in olden story ; 
 
 On her ruby jeweled crown 
 
 Rests the sunshine's golden glory. 
 
THE PKmCESS. 231 
 
 Robed in emerald tissues fair, 
 
 Tossed in motion ever graceful, 
 
 Fanned by zephyrs bland and rare, 
 
 Thy true lovers, famed and faithful. 
 
 Bright, imperial, queenly rose, 
 
 Bathed in crystal dew the clearest, 
 
 Best that in the garden grows 
 
 You will ever be, and dearest. 
 
 Saxbm, May 25, 1870. 
 
 MEETING AT THE GATE. 
 
 A little dimpled child at play 
 
 Had strayed adown a sunny lane, 
 
 In search of flowers, and lost his way. 
 And longed to find his home again. 
 
232 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 O'er bnsli and fern, he clambered on, 
 
 And thought the time was long to wait 
 
 Ere home returning, tired and torn, 
 His mother met him, at the gate. 
 
 A wayward youth sought fame afar, 
 
 And, wandering from his early home, 
 He followed hope's bright meteor. 
 
 Full heedless where it bade him roam. 
 His feet were mired in slippery ways. 
 
 He " fell, and lost his lirst estate " ; 
 He turned him home : with tear-dimmed gaze. 
 
 His mother met him at the gate. 
 
 For hearts of those who mourn as lost 
 
 A mother's love and tenderness, 
 By storms of care and trial tost. 
 
 With little love or peace to bless — 
 There is a sweet and pleasant hour 
 
 For Christians to anticipate ; 
 We may, brought home by death's grim power, 
 
 Our mother meet, at Heaven's gate. 
 
SPINNING. 
 
 233 
 
 SPINNING. 
 
 A spider was swinging herself in glee 
 
 From a moss-covered swaying bough, 
 
 A breeze came rollicking up from the sea, 
 
 And fanned her beautiful brow. 
 
 She hung, it is true, with her pretty head down, 
 
 But her brain was cool as you please, 
 
 The fashion quite suited the cut of her gown, 
 
 And she could look up in the trees. 
 
 She saw where a humming bird lighted down. 
 At his throat a bright ruby gleamed, 
 On his head was a gold and emerald crown, 
 And he sat on a bough and dreamed. 
 
234 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The spicier ran up on her silver thread 
 And looked in the little king's face, 
 If I may hut sit at jour feet, she said, 
 I'll spin you some beautiful lace. 
 
 The humming bird looked in her shining eyes, 
 
 And then at her nimble feet, 
 
 And said to himself, I have found a prize, 
 
 She is useful as well as neat. 
 
 " You may sit by my side, if it please you well," 
 
 Said he, " the Summer-time through ; 
 
 And since you spin on a noiseless wheel, 
 
 I'll do the humming for you." 
 
 March, 1870. 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 A sonnet should be polished and complete, 
 
 A sentimental bit of choicest rhyme, 
 A poet's rendering of some thought sublime, 
 
A SONNET. 235 
 
 Or vision beauteous, given in numbers sweet. 
 Alas ! I fear already, I shall fail 
 
 In rendering mine ; I wonder how I durst 
 
 Have undertaken e'er to write my first, 
 But fainting heart will surely ne'er prevail. 
 I've seen the waters flash at set of sun, 
 
 Have dreamed of love and sought to worship truth, 
 Have heard the shouts of war o'er victories won, 
 
 And lost for aye the gilded toys of youth ; 
 But while my poetry has just begun, 
 I find that I have got my " Sonnet " done ! 
 
 Salem, Oregon. July, 1866. 
 
 FOEBIDDEN FRUIT. 
 
 In the garden of life's pleasures, 
 Sure the tree is standing still- 
 
 Who can tell us if its fruitage 
 Yield us most of good or ill ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Only in the eating, may we 
 
 Gain the knowledge of the good 
 
 Though the Evil may be bitter, 
 Can we help it, if we would ? 
 
 If, upon each blushing apple, 
 
 Unmistakably we saw, 
 " This, thou shalt not eat, my children,'" 
 
 Then we might obey the law. 
 
 But alas ! the light of Eden 
 
 From our eyes is banished far. 
 
 And each mortal holds his candle 
 For his fellows' guiding star. 
 
 Still, the lamp that is within us, 
 Lighted by the hand Divine, 
 
 Shineth for our special guidance. 
 
 Though all others cease to shine ; 
 
FOEBIDDEN FRUIT. 237 
 
 Yet our sight is often clouded, 
 
 Dimm'd by passing mote or beam. 
 
 And the fruit that looketh fairest, 
 Proveth not what it doth seem. 
 
 All may see and know their follies, 
 In the light the future brings, 
 
 But our present wisdom only 
 
 Shineth on the present things. 
 
 Should we blindly follow Custom ? 
 
 Is he always in the right ? 
 Are the fruits lie chooseth for us 
 
 Kever spoiled by Evil's blight ? 
 
 Aye ! we know his cruel wine-press 
 Crusheth oft our grapes of joy, 
 
 Till their wine, so harsh and bitter, 
 Sharpest appetites will cloy. 
 
238 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 He, a blind and heartless tyrant, 
 Nourished by a selfish throng, 
 
 Led so oft by haughty Error — 
 
 How can he be judge of wrong 
 
 Ye w^ho, by your farthing rush-lights. 
 
 Yiew in gloom the deeds of all, 
 Turn you where, in purer regions, 
 
 Charity's sweet light doth fall. 
 
 She will lead you in green pastures, 
 Down beside the waters still ; 
 
 Let the love-light that she bringeth 
 All your darksome corners fill. 
 
 She is kind in all her judgments. 
 Thinking evil thoughts of none, 
 
 Kever making good for others 
 
 That which pleaseth her alone ; 
 
FORBroDEN FRITIT, 239 
 
 Ne^er mistrusting or condemning 
 All as wrong she cannot know, 
 
 For by many a hidden fountain 
 Purest fruits of pleasure grow. 
 
 Choose her, then, for your companion, 
 By her lights your judgments frame ; 
 
 Those who pluck the fruit forbidden, 
 You by kindness may reclaim. 
 
 Saxem, January, 1866. 
 
 SHmiNG OKES. 
 
 Lilies pure and white. 
 Sitting in the sun, 
 Waving gently in the light, 
 If we only saw they were 
 
240 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Conscious of their beauty rare, 
 
 Would they seem to us so fair, 
 
 As is now each one ? 
 
 Stars of brightness clear, 
 
 In your azure heights. 
 Would your beauty be so dear, 
 Charming, winsome, to our eyes, 
 If in pride you should arise, 
 And go flaming through the skies. 
 Like Auroral lights ? 
 
 Infants fair and sweet. 
 
 With your guileless ways, 
 In your spotless robes so meet, 
 If you knew your cunningness. 
 All your power and charm to bless, 
 Would you give such happiness 
 If you smiled for praise ? 
 
SHINING ONES. 241 
 
 Little children, heed ; 
 
 Be like lilies pure ; 
 If each simple, loving deed, 
 Clothe you with unconscious grace. 
 Shine like star-gleams in your face. 
 You will wear in every place 
 
 Beauties that endure. 
 
 Salem, Oct. 16, 1870. 
 
 CUSTOM. 
 
 Dear friends, are you in mood to listen well ? 
 I have a story I should like to tell ; 
 We all like stories, though of different kinds. 
 For different matter pleases different minds ; 
 All children like to hear of "Fairy tales," 
 And all were children once ; so if this fails 
 To teach you wisdom, or to flourish wit, 
 
242 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Just class it with suv^li tales — if it is fit. 
 
 In ancient times, a mighty tyrant dwelt 
 
 In a high palace, and his power was felt 
 
 O'er every town and city, far and wide — 
 
 Whether it still exists, yoii may decide. 
 
 The haughty tyrant dwelt in princely state, 
 
 And menials thronged, upon his word to wait ; 
 
 Nobles and kings were in his ranks arrayed. 
 
 By whom his slightest wishes were obeyed. 
 
 For difierent countries different laws he made, 
 
 For every circle and for every grade ; 
 
 Each petty hamlet had its " civil cocJe," 
 
 Its honors and its penalties bestowed. 
 
 That these were arbitrary, all concede. 
 
 Because in scarce two places they agreed ; 
 
 What then was proper in a Scottish kirk 
 
 Would never have been dreamed of by a Turk ; 
 
 What Englishmen may do and falter not, 
 
 Would cause great scandal for a Hottentot ; 
 
 And what seemed very strange, in the same town, 
 
 The deed that raised one up would put another down. 
 
 Should any think that from these facts a cause 
 
CUSTOM. 243 
 
 Was shown to doubt the wisdom of these laws. 
 
 We grant him this opinion, as his dower, 
 
 But never let him dare to doubt their power : 
 
 'Twas strange to see how young and old would wait 
 
 Obsequiously about his palace gate ; 
 
 Changing their dress to suit his wildest whim, 
 
 And making appetite e'en bow to him. 
 
 If he preferred his rats prepared in pies, 
 
 The price of tender ones would quickly rise ; 
 
 Or should he choose to have his candles fried, 
 
 By those allow^ed, the dish would soon be tried : 
 
 And, stranger still, his lords would sometimes dine 
 
 On toasted frogs, or eat the flesh of swine ! 
 
 'Twere hard to say what was or was not law, 
 
 Wlien such variety in tastes one saw. 
 
 But food agreed with climate, we are sure, 
 
 And dress was varied with the temperature. 
 
 Not so the rules that suited actions : here 
 
 The latitudes and longitudes were queer ; 
 
 The tyrant was not guided by the sun, 
 
 But made his lines in all directions run. 
 
 Like crpoked fences, made of stakes and rails, 
 
 31 
 
244 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Or paths wherein the slimy serpent trails. 
 
 Without the slightest reason for a guide, 
 
 He changed the bounds that right from wrong divide. 
 
 Wlien first his iron rule was owned and felt. 
 
 His laws by Charity and Virtue dealt. 
 
 Were just and right, as his advisers were : 
 
 With such prime ministers he scarce could err. 
 
 But Jealousy and Envy saw with pain 
 
 Deserving Virtue such position gain — 
 
 They stole her livery, without a blush, 
 
 And sought her fame to wound, her power to crush. 
 
 The tyrant, weak to judge, though strong to rule. 
 
 To beauteous Virtue grew exceeding cool — 
 
 The base pretenders raised before her face, 
 
 And finally installed them in her place. 
 
 So, modestly, she left the tyrant's court. 
 
 And made the groves of Wisdom her resort : 
 
 There in serene retirement she remains. 
 
 And o'er a favored few securely reigns. 
 
 But Charity remained, and sought to make 
 
CUSTOM. 245 
 
 The tyrant's edicts lenient for iier sake — 
 
 She sought, and ever still will seek, in vain. 
 
 While Jealousy and Envy hold the rein : 
 
 They sit in judgment near the tyrant's throne. 
 
 And make him tliiuk their sentence is his own ; 
 
 And oft their waiting maid, Propriety, 
 
 Draws down her face with much sobriety. 
 
 And sighs to think some people are so bad, 
 
 And that " she never dreams such things, is glad.'* 
 
 But, ah ! poor prude, a trembling slave is she, 
 
 Forever cringing at the tyrant's knee, — 
 
 She knows no law hut his / so low her sphere 
 
 E'en Jealousy and Envy need not fear ; 
 
 But when one mortal rises trom the rest. 
 
 And proves in any thing his talent hest^ 
 
 Forthwith these vultures, scanning well his track, 
 
 Look out for points of weakness to attack — 
 
 So genius comes to be to him a curse, 
 
 The more he tries to please, succeeds the worse. 
 
 He's like our pris'ners, who, too brave to run, 
 
 Found loathsome cells the meed their valor won : 
 
 Or shut within a Southern prison pen, 
 
i546 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Wliere they were not allowed to live like men — 
 The lines were drawn for theui by deadly foes, 
 Which, should one dare to cross, lo ! down he goes ! 
 
 Such are the lines which Custom draws for man. 
 
 And if, in search of truth, one leads the van 
 
 Bravely across the old distorted lines, 
 
 He falls a victim to his rash designs ; 
 
 It has been ever thus — no Moses' hand 
 
 Has led a people toward a promised land, 
 
 From out the bondage of an ignorance vile, 
 
 To where the pleasant fruits of Wisdom smile — 
 
 But, like the lords of Egypt, Custom's slaves 
 
 Have followed, till some Red Sea furnished graves. 
 
 Still in his strength the Tyrant rests secure, 
 
 But never will his laws be just and pure 
 
 'Till banished Virtue is again restored, 
 
 And Jealousy and Envy are ignored, 
 
 And Slander, their vile emissary flies — 
 
 Till, wanting food and out of breath, she dies : 
 
 Then will retainers in his Higlmess' court 
 
CUSTOM. 24' 
 
 Cease to be influenced by unjust Report, 
 No more will fools, without a sense of shame, 
 Feast on the carcass of a friend's good name ; 
 But every law that custom shall approve, 
 Be given by Virtue, Charity, akd Love. 
 
 Salem, Oregon, March 26, 1866. 
 
 L'ESPEEAN^CE. 
 
 There is no soul so dark and cold. 
 But germs of worth it may enfold ; 
 There is no life so coarse and rude. 
 But love can make it brave and good. 
 
 There is no day with cares so great. 
 But patient heart may bear their weight. 
 No night so dark to watching eyes. 
 But star, or moon, or sun, may rise. 
 
248 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 There is no storm so fierce and loud 
 
 But peace may light its sunset cloud ; 
 
 No Winter e'er so bleak and cold, 
 
 But Spring will deck the fields with gold. 
 
 There is no heart so full of grief, 
 But sleep and time may bring relief ; 
 No hour of pain so sad and long, 
 But God may end it with a song, 
 
 Sai-km, February 6, 1870. 
 
 NOTHING BUT THEE 
 
 Nothing for Thee ! 
 My Saviour, can I do 
 Nothing for thee '( 
 Is there no way 
 For me to pay 
 The debt of love I owe "i 
 
NOTHING BUT THEE. 249 
 
 Nothing for Thee ! 
 
 When I'm so lost without 
 Thy blood " for me." 
 I feel within 
 So much of sin 
 
 I am overwhelmed with doubt. 
 
 Not doubt of Thee, 
 
 But of my own false heart ; 
 
 Nothing for Thee— 
 
 But cries and tears, 
 And weakening fears, 
 And failures on my part. 
 
 Nothing for Thee ; 
 I am unworthy, Lord. 
 To do for Thee. 
 I try in vain, 
 For oh ! the stain 
 Of sin, to efface — is hard. 
 
250 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Nothing but Thee ! 
 Oh ! Jesus may I plead 
 Nothing but Thee. 
 
 My works are nought, 
 And never ought 
 To satisfy my need. 
 
 Nothing but Thee ; 
 Yes though I never do 
 One thing for Thee ; 
 Yet will I trust, 
 Though " I am dust, " 
 Thou'lt pay the debt I owe. 
 
FAME. 251 
 
 FAME. 
 
 Such is fame ! 
 
 Like that blue flame, 
 Flickering o'er the blackening coal 
 
 Now it spreads, 
 
 And beauty sheds. 
 Faint glowing o'er the whole. 
 
 Now it shrinks. 
 Until one thinks 
 
 It will soon be wholly gone ; 
 Then curls and lifts 
 Above the rifts, 
 
 Then settles calmly down. 
 
252 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Now it darts, 
 Quivers and starts, 
 
 Anon leaps up, and then returns ; 
 Till dead and dull, 
 It leaves the coal 
 
 That soon to ashes turns. 
 
 Such are the gleams 
 Fame's flitting dreams 
 
 Cast o'er the poet's burning soul, 
 Flashes of light — 
 Then darkest night 
 
 Obscures and chills the whole. 
 
 " Dying flame, 
 Art thou like fame, 
 
 Is it nothing more than this ? " 
 " Behold, in death. 
 My parting breath 
 
 Ascends, the clouds to kiss." 
 
FAME. 253 
 
 Heavenward broke 
 The silvery smoke, 
 
 Ethereal essence of the flame 
 So to the skies 
 Will ever rise 
 
 All true^ itnmortal fame. 
 
 Salem. Oregon, June, 1866. 
 
 .-.fir. 
 
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