LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 7<^s^~^nr< 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 
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THORNS AND ROSES 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/thornsrosesOObell 
 
Thorns and Roses 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN OLIVER BELLVILLE 
 
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 m 27 1B95 
 
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 KELLER PRINTING CO., PUBLISHERS 
 1895 
 
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 Copyright 1895 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN OLIVER BELLVILLE 
 
TO FRANK M. GILBERT 
 
 No, sever not sweet friendships s chain; 
 Here are my deeds, my words are -vain. 
 For he as e''er a true friend should 
 Condoned my faults and praised my good. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thorns and Roses 1 
 
 Terrae Filius S 
 
 Despair ^ 
 
 Vindictiveness 7 
 
 The Passing of the Soul 8 
 
 November 13 
 
 Starvation 14r 
 
 Conscience 15 
 
 Then Would I Only Know 16 
 
 The Panacea . . 19 
 
 The Muse ^5 
 
 A Grief and a Blessing 28 
 
 Spirit of Devotion 29 
 
 A Plea for Friendship 31 
 
 The Separation 32 
 
 Songs of Childhood 34 
 
 Meditation 36 
 
 Deception . 38 
 
 Call Them Back 39 
 
 Truth and Error 41 
 
 Edgar Wellton Cooley . . 43 
 
 Is There a Sweeter Strain? 45 
 
 Burning of the Steamer Wellingham -...,.. 46 
 
 The Quarter that He Saves .49 
 
 In the Dark 50 
 
 Man 52 
 
 The Visible Pandemonium 56 
 
 Where the Battle Was Fought 60 
 
 The Head Lines of a Letter 61 
 
 A Lesson in Mythology , 63 
 
 Custer's Last Battle (35 
 
 When It Snows 68 
 
 The Dreamers 70 
 
PAGE 
 
 The War 71 
 
 Ijf A World Born to Doubt 72 
 
 'Tis Sweet 74 
 
 A Song of a Joy Returned 76 
 
 Take Life as It Is 77 
 
 Slander 80 
 
 Upward 81 
 
 Jealousy 82 
 
 In Slumber Land 84 
 
 The Banquet 86 
 
 "When Lovely Woman" 90 
 
 A Strange Fair Lady 92 
 
 A Woman's Worth 94 
 
 Spring 98 
 
 How Sweet to be Folded Away .... 100 
 
 Constancy 103 
 
 A Valentine 104 
 
 How Sad It Was 105 
 
 A Last Good Bye 107 
 
 It is Said Yet Not True .... 109 
 
 When the Last Turbid Tide Ill 
 
 Is Kissing an Evil.? 112 
 
 Two Vessels 114 
 
 Oh, Where is the Torch.? 116 
 
 Oh, Take My Heart 118 
 
 When the Heart's Last Emotion 120 
 
 A Summer Evening 121 
 
 Do I Love You.? 123 
 
 As We Strolled in Our Sleep 125 
 
 On the World 127 
 
 The Voice of Labor 141 
 
 An Appeal to Patriotism 146 
 
 The Wanderer 150 
 
 In Chains 165 
 
 Labor Day 160 
 
THORNS AND ROSES. 
 
 A magical artist, with masterly hand, 
 
 Painted a picture of light and of shade- 
 Light as the water, shade as the land — 
 And Oh, how rich, sublime and grand, 
 That beautiful picture the artist made! 
 
 But it had not tints to enchant the view. 
 Or to liven its shade or mellow its light 
 
 So the artist searched his soul, and drew 
 From the universe, each pigment mite, 
 
 And skillfully blended them with dew. 
 
And when they were blended to please his eye, 
 And serve his especial use and need, 
 
 He breathed upon them with a sigh, 
 
 Transforming and turning them into seed 
 
 With a life and soul to never die. 
 
 Then, turning to where the picture hung, 
 He gazed upon its light and shade, 
 
 And praised its grandeur, as it swung. 
 And blessed the work that he had made. 
 
 As the stars and sun together sung. 
 
 And as the music rolled through the world, 
 Praising his magic and splendid worth. 
 
 He scattered the seed, by light impearled, 
 With hand divine, and a sense of mirth. 
 
 This artist God, o'er the picture — Earth. 
 
Then he breathed on it and sighed again, 
 And it bloomed in beauty, life and grace; 
 
 And its tints He enameled with mist and rain, 
 As He hung it out in the world's wide space, 
 
 Linked to the stars with a mystical chain. 
 
 The thorn sprang first, and then the rose 
 Bloomed from the seed His hand had sown, 
 
 But His counselors swore, as did His foes, 
 That the work had best been left alone, 
 
 In its light and shadow of repose. 
 
 And the furies blew on it their breath. 
 And lashed it with their ebon wings, 
 
 And the rose-bloom swooned in the lap of death, 
 But they could not waste the thorn that stings. 
 
 Then Satan scowled and gnashed His teeth. 
 
And said: "I will make a battle ground 
 Of this scene, and people it with kings, 
 
 And scatter o'er it, and around, 
 
 All manner of flying and creeping things. 
 
 And good and evil shall abound." 
 
 Smiles, Comfort, Gladness, Love, and Light. 
 Shall represent each rose that's born ; 
 
 Hate, Tears, and Sadness, Scorn and Night, 
 Shall be as emblems of the thorn, 
 O'er which the human race shall mourn! 
 
TERRAE FILIUS. 
 
 As a drop of rain in the mighty deep ; 
 
 As a leaf blown from a tree ; 
 As a breath of mist in night's long sleep ; 
 
 As a grain of sand of the sea ; 
 As a spark of light from eternal fires ; 
 
 A ray from the heart of the sun ; 
 As a broken note from eternal lyres, 
 
 Is man, when his race is run. 
 
 As a breath of odors of every flower ; 
 
 As a shadow from night's great scroll ; 
 As a second from the eternal hour, 
 
 Is the span of a human soul. 
 He's fair as a lily to human sight 
 
 But alas! a smile— a nod, 
 And then as a star that has spilled it's light 
 
 He sleeps in the lap of God. 
 
DESPAIR. 
 
 Then came Despair to one who sadly sat 
 Amid her tears and moaned for having sold 
 The lily of her virtue for the trash called gold. 
 
 It knelt beside her, while grim hunger lingered at 
 Her window, gazing at her with a deathless stare, 
 So weird and hollow-eyed that e'en Despair 
 Sobbed piteously and wept, and left her there. 
 
 And winged Its way to the most lofty peak 
 
 Of the dull mountains wrapped in ice and snow, 
 And there, amid the darkness and its woe, 
 
 And the dim stars, and north-winds, cold and bleak, 
 It raved as raves a lost soul cast away, 
 And prayed the sun, approaching near to day. 
 To hide his face, and never cast a ray 
 
 Upon an earth where mortals are so weak. 
 
VINDICTIVENESS. 
 
 In my soul's treasure-store thou wast its richest gem ; 
 
 I wore thee as a charm about my heart ; 
 
 Thy life I felt, was of my own a part, 
 But now I cast thee from me as a limb 
 
 Cast from a tree within a mighty storm, 
 
 And hate most bitterly thy haunting face and form, 
 Because of thy despised seductive art. 
 
 Forgive thee? No! Go swart the lily's face 
 Or crush the fragrance from a red rose-bud 
 Beneath thy foot — press out its living blood ; 
 
 Then canst thou place it back within the vase 
 From whence it came as perfect and as fair 
 And fragrant as when first thou foundst it there? 
 
 No! Nor canst thou its lovely tintings trace. 
 
THE PASSING OF THE SOUL. 
 
 In the throes of deathless dreaming; 
 In the dismal darkness streaming ; 
 In deep chaos with no gleaming 
 
 Ray of light to g^uide my mind, 
 Groped I, hoped I ; knelt imploring 
 For one ray of light sent soaring 
 To this ghoulish, rayless region 
 
 Where I dwelt in terror blind. 
 
 Then a spirit, sad and dismal, 
 From Avernus depths abysmal, 
 Came with ebon urn, baptismal. 
 
 And made darkness deeper grow ; 
 Gibbed at me and dragged me, speechless, 
 Downward to the depths so reachless. 
 That the tireless wings of fancy 
 
 To their lowest could not go,. 
 
Darker, darker, deeper, deeper, 
 "Who, O God," I shrieked, " is keeper 
 Of the midnight where no sleeper 
 Closes eye-lids on its shores?" 
 "Who?" Eumenides made answer. 
 "I am he, with sword and lance sir, 
 I exclude the light forever 
 With my bronzed, Plutonian doors." 
 
 "You?" I cried ; then felt a chilling — 
 Something o'er my soul came, thrilling 
 It as tho' the storm.-gods, willing. 
 Spread their lightnings over me. 
 Then the darkness hovered deeper. 
 And I cursed each swarted keeper — 
 Cursed, then prayed for them to lead me, 
 Into light that I might see. 
 
 All in vain ! Incarcerated 
 
 As a Judas, scourged and hated. 
 
 With Azazel, relegated, 
 
 I was, as Prometheus, bound — 
 Chained to hunger's lorn rock, freezing, 
 Hopeless since there's no appeasing 
 Of the gaunt and ghostly vulture 
 
 Feasting on my liver's wound. 
 9 
 
'O, Eumenides, appalling, 
 Are these chains about me, galling; 
 And their weight around me falling 
 
 Filches from me freedom's breath. 
 Still they eat," I said, "and danker, 
 Gnawing as an ichoris canker, 
 Gnaws and claws to reach the vital, 
 
 Like the serpent-tongue of death!" 
 
 'Strike them, let me feel their breaking! 
 Strike them, let me see their shaking! 
 Let me feel no more the aching 
 
 Of the clotting of life's wine! 
 I implore thee grant my fleeing 
 From the fire-crypts of my being — 
 From this petrous pile of torture. 
 
 Unto Calvarj^'s rock divine." 
 
 'And I tell thee, prince Satanic, 
 Tho' thou hast a strength Titanic, 
 Thou shalt see, as by Volcanic 
 
 Greatness, these gyves fall from me ! 
 Tho' thy hideous witches flout me — 
 Serpents hiss and coil about me, 
 I will trample them and crush them. 
 
 And forever more be free!" 
 
 lO 
 
"From Alaraf's awed disaster; 
 From the vengence of Alaster, 
 Take me, if there's God or Master! 
 
 O'er the rainbow bridge of joy. 
 Bear me, as was born Anchises 
 On the shoulders of ^neas 
 For my soul burns as the burning 
 
 At the awful siege of Troy!" 
 
 Then a voice spake from the rayless 
 Shores of this weird starless, dayless, 
 Torturing region of Abayless — 
 
 Spake as melody to me: 
 'Ye who grope for God, O mortal, 
 Now^ stand at His golden portal 
 But, save by the orbs of spirit, 
 
 Thou canst not His wonders see." 
 
 'Darkness has no power, eternal. 
 And no sombre fiend, infernal. 
 Can dispel the light, supernal. 
 
 Flowing from the mind and soul. 
 God is in you — He's the yearning 
 Of your inner soul — the burning 
 Of the cerements that bind it 
 
 As it grasps a higher goal." 
 
Then in mists of mystic splendor, 
 Came a spirit, meek and tender, 
 And the heavens seemed to lend her 
 
 All the sweetness of a dove ; 
 And my spirit, at her wooing, 
 Left its clay and went pursuing — 
 Went and left the dismal darkness 
 
 For the light of Truth and Love. 
 
 Passed Amaimons' power restraining 
 Passed Bellerus' bonds retaining; 
 Passed Asmodeus, profaning, 
 
 O'er the mad maelstroms of fate. 
 Passed I to the Asgard's glory. 
 Glorious as the rainbow story. 
 O'er the pearl and gold of Bifrost, 
 
 And the spans of Alsirat. 
 
 There I learned there is no evil ; 
 All is good, if we believe all ; 
 All are forces, not of Devil 
 
 But one centralizing good ; 
 And that God is only real — 
 In the highest sense ideal — 
 Not in being, but in spirit, 
 
 And as such is understood. 
 
 12 
 
NOVEMBER. 
 
 Athwart the wastes of dull November sky, 
 Amid the clouds that hurriedly move on 
 Like snow-flakes scurrying over heaven's lawn, 
 
 The wild-goose trails his way and passes by, 
 
 Combing the wings of night with plaintive cry, 
 
 And pulling the snow-storm with him at the dawn, 
 To chill each flower's soul when he is gone 
 
 To that far clime where north-winds rarely sigh. 
 
 And as the day unfolds her golden doors, 
 Jenco Hyemalis in their dark disguise 
 Drift in like feathered waifs from Paradise, 
 Spilling their broken notes upon earth's shores 
 Where, stooping low, the noiseless snow-queen pours 
 White flakes, like frozen tears from angel's eyes. 
 
STARVATION. 
 
 They sat together in a dismal cell 
 
 Did he and Hunger; mutely sat and gazed 
 Upon each other until he grew dazed. 
 
 Then weakness coiled about him and he fell, 
 
 In the deep darkness of that awful hell, 
 
 And naught but his poor shrunken hands were raised, 
 
 To guard his dying lips from such a spell. 
 
 And bit, by bit, he gnawed the flesh from these 
 Until their naked bones like ivory swung 
 About his head ; then grim, gaunt hunger wrung 
 
 The fleshless joints it's craving to appease. 
 
 And he, poor wretch, felt his heart's pulses freeze. 
 But murmured not, for Death had chilled his tongue. 
 
 14 
 
CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Upon a rose-hued table in a room 
 
 Lay an open book, so spotless white and fair 
 I knew that God's own hand had placed it there 
 
 And left it stainless as the lily's bloom. 
 
 At length poor Love in melancholy gloom 
 Chanced by. He entered in to offer prayer 
 And wrote upon the first leaf, unaware 
 
 That he had soiled the page and sealed his doom. 
 
 But when he came again, Deceit and Sin, 
 And Lust and Avarice and Appetite 
 Came also with him, and with him did write 
 
 Their strange cantations on the leaves therein. 
 
 And lo, that book of Conscience, that had been 
 As white as snow, was now as black as night. 
 
 15 
 
THEN WOULD I ONLY KNOW. 
 
 Out from the veils of darkness, 
 
 Where ignorance broods and pines 
 And the ghouls of superstition 
 
 Are impaled by false divines, 
 I climbed away from the shadows 
 
 To the sun-swept plains of truth. 
 And gazed back on the chaos 
 
 And confusion of my youth. 
 
 While the great arch-light of the future 
 
 Beckoned my spirit on 
 To a universe more splendid 
 
 Than the dreams of a golden dawn — 
 Where man was at rest and happy, 
 
 Not groping in dread of a curse, 
 But his soul's harp joined in the music 
 
 Of the lays of the universe. 
 
 i6 
 
There were no creeds before me — 
 
 I'd trampled them into the mire ; 
 And dead theology I'd burned 
 
 On cruelty's funeral pyre, 
 For I shuddered at a religion 
 
 That begets a selfish greed ; 
 That stains the earth a crimson 
 
 And leaves poor man in need ! 
 
 Yet God, O! God, who art Thou? 
 
 That man shouldst personize 
 And give Thee human attributes 
 
 And ever-seeing eyes ? 
 Who? Who? I ask the sunbeams; 
 
 I ask the stars of night ; 
 I ask the granite peaks that rise 
 
 Beneath the orbs of light ; 
 
 The flowers and their fragrance ; 
 
 The happy birds that sing, 
 And each one answers, to my soul: 
 
 " God dwells in everything." 
 Yet man has never known Him, 
 
 Because He dwells too near 
 And Superstition ever points 
 
 To a distant unknown sphere. 
 17 
 
Oh, had I erudition 
 
 To analyze all thought, 
 And trace time's evolution 
 
 Till it ended in a blot ; 
 Know every passion of the heart. 
 
 Of sea, of air, of sod — 
 Then, and only then I'd know 
 
 And understand a God." 
 
 i8 
 
THE PANACEA. 
 
 Was she mystic? Was she chthonic? 
 True, she bore a love, platonic. 
 But she woo'd me like a fairy 
 
 Till I worshiped at her feet ; 
 Then with eyes upon me beaming, 
 From which softened glows were streaming, 
 She proved that she was wiser 
 
 Than the sagest thesmothete. 
 
 "Taste," said she, "this is the liquor; 
 This the sweet, ethereal ichor 
 That the gods imbibed with blessings 
 
 At the fount of Hippocrene." 
 Then I took the cup and tipped it — 
 Tipped it to my lips and sipped it 
 And entranced I saw such visions 
 
 As no mortal eyes had seen. 
 
 19 
 
Down a secret passage, winding 
 Through a labyrinth, all blinding 
 With radiant diamond mirrors 
 
 That reflected all her charms, 
 She lead me, and I listened. 
 As the lights about me glistened, 
 Till, as Proteus I saw her. 
 
 In at least an hundred forms. 
 
 'Speak not," said she, "I am Ariel, 
 
 I assume all shapes, ideal. 
 
 And the soul that follows my soul 
 
 Through this labyrinth, must see 
 Every wonder that is mystic. 
 Till his sense idealistic 
 Is lost in the Shechinah 
 
 Of man's immortality." 
 
 Here's the cave of Canacea 
 Leading to the Panacea, 
 Enter, kiss her ring and listen 
 
 To the music of her words. 
 And forever, by commanding. 
 You will have an understanding 
 Of all races and all kindreds. 
 
 And the language of the birds." 
 
I obeyed as I was bidden, 
 And the mystery, long hidden 
 In the wasted tower of Babel, 
 
 Soon to me was clearly known. 
 And to me a key was given 
 By Uriel — guard of Heaven — 
 Which made every tongue and language 
 
 Of the universe my own. 
 
 Then the lights began to glimmer 
 And their rays grew dimmer, dimmer, 
 As we sought the Panacea 
 
 Thro' a weirdly dismal damp. 
 Where all light in gloom was smothered, 
 Save the ghost-lights there uncovered 
 From the weird cave of Aladdin 
 
 Where burned his magic lamp. 
 
 Said Ariel, "By his magic 
 
 We can pass the dragon, Tragic, 
 
 And behold the Seven Sleepers 
 
 Guarded by great Al Rakim. 
 There the cavern will be lighted 
 And the spirit souls, benighted, . 
 Will dispel the sombre spectres 
 
 By a thought transforming them." 
 
Then we met a hideous sibyl 
 
 Who with many a quirk and quibble 
 
 Snuffed our light and hoarsely muttered: 
 
 "You who seem so wondrous wise 
 Go now thro' the darkness streaming 
 Where there is nor ray, nor gleaming, 
 Save the glaring of the staring 
 
 Of grim monster's burning eyes." 
 
 Here a thousand imps I numbered — 
 Squabbling imps that never slumbered — 
 And their eyes were burning, burning, 
 
 Like a glare from lava seas ! 
 Shuddered I, because they knew me 
 And I feared lest they'd pursue me — 
 Oh! those slimy sleepless vigils 
 
 Of the world's woes and disease! 
 
 From their number, Dissipation, 
 
 He who demonized each nation 
 
 And who crushed and conquered Reason, 
 
 Rose and proffered me a bowl. 
 Ariel cried : Forbear to take it 
 Dash it from you! break it! break it! 
 For as Undine's kiss 'tis deadly 
 
 Damnatory to your soul! 
 
On we wandered to a roomy 
 Cavern, where amid the gloomy 
 Shadows, Yoga, in seclusion 
 
 Took on super-human power. 
 He divined all earthly dealings ; 
 Read our secret thoughts and feelings, 
 And he said the Panacea 
 
 Came not of an earthly flower. 
 
 Then a fear — a strange fear — seized me, 
 But Ariel soon appeased me — 
 On her bosom gleamed the sakhrat 
 
 The most sacred stone e'er found, 
 And I knew that all the demons 
 And phantasmagoric lemans 
 Could not lose us in the cavern 
 
 Tho' a thousand ways it wound ! 
 
 Soon we reached the Twenty Weepers 
 Watching o'er the Seven Sleepers. 
 Round their throats their hair disheveled 
 
 Clustered in a matted heap. 
 From their eyes almost ideal — 
 From mortalis lachrymeal. 
 Flowed their tears unto the dismal 
 
 Scoriae regions of the deep. 
 23 
 
All along the shores there staggered 
 Many souls, gaunt scarred and haggard, 
 Seeking for the rest to be theirs 
 
 Just beyond the twilight door: 
 When the spirit Nox came o'er them. 
 Seized their fainting souls and bore them 
 For the night to sweet Oblivion's 
 
 Far and fairy haunted shore. 
 
 '»Come," Ariel said; "We'll follow 
 To Oblivion's perfumed hollow, 
 Where the silence broods eternal 
 
 Like the blessed angel, Truth." 
 And 'twas there, in its completeness 
 Of perfection and rare sweetness. 
 That I found the Panacea 
 
 And the sacred spring of youth. 
 
 24 
 
THE MUSE. 
 
 I saw her with the cloud queens that hugged and kissed the 
 moon, 
 While she grasped a thread of star-shine and followed it 
 
 through space 
 To where water lillies sparkled like bubbles in a vase, 
 And sighed their sweetest odors o'er the mossy-fringed 
 
 lagoon, 
 Where swans in dreamy languor floated to some lulling tune, 
 And the leering leaden spiders gave the water-flies a chase. 
 
 And I saw her when the dawning winked at day, and she 
 awoke 
 And bathed her face in snow-drops, and powdered it with 
 
 light, 
 And feasted on the fragrance of honeysuckles white, 
 And strolled around the orchard, in her morning-glory cloak. 
 With an apron neatly woven out of skeins of mist and smoke, 
 Appareled like a fairy from the love-isles of Delight. 
 
 25 
 
And I saw her comb her tresses with a thistle-bur that grew 
 In the secret isles of sorcery, of Elfland's dreamy dell ; 
 And the mirror that reflected her enchantments like a spell 
 
 Was a tiny timid tulip that hugged a drop of dew ; 
 
 And as she there admired her grace, the purple hyacinths blew 
 Their dainty fragrance in her face until they swooned and 
 fell. 
 
 And I saw her moulding zephyrs from the pansy's sweetest 
 
 sighs, 
 
 And sow them, while the fire-flies made melody of gloom, 
 
 And the universe seemed floating in an ether of perfume; 
 
 And the moments sped a quiver with the crickets' doleful 
 
 cries, 
 While fancy trimmed her vesture with the wings of butter- 
 flies, 
 And martial bees held revel in the calyx of a bloom. 
 
 And I saw her strip the colors from the sea-shells, hidden 
 low, 
 
 In the dark and dismal cellars of the sighing, sobbing sea ; 
 
 And with her fairy fingers skilled to mystic masonry. 
 She builded arches, rarer than the heaven's arched bow; 
 While naiads say their sweetest under coral mistletoe. 
 And the muses swam still deeper in the depths of mystery. 
 
 26 
 
And she stroked the beard of winter with the soft 
 of spring, 
 And he drooped his head in silence and smiled himself to 
 
 sleep ; 
 While clowns of mist, and sunshine came stealing down 
 the steep, 
 And set the flowers to laughing ; and birds upon the wing 
 Ever singing, wove their hammocks with the oriole to swing, 
 And watch the gray-squirrels gambol, as from limb to limb 
 they'd leap. 
 
 27 
 
A GRIEF AND A BLESSING. 
 
 Ill the trail of the star-light I gazed up to heaven, 
 
 One night as I mused on the bank of a stream, 
 When lone thro' the darkness I saw something driven, 
 
 That fluttered and quivered and whitened the gleam 
 Of the star-ray it followed, till o'er me it hovered 
 
 And fanned my pale cheeks with its snow-lighted wings, 
 And it moaned in my ear till my vision discovered 
 
 The cause of its grief and the source of its stings. 
 
 In its breast stuck an arrow, a deep poisoned arrow. 
 
 In its beak was a lily from gardens divine, 
 And it dropped me its lily and sang me its sorrow. 
 
 An anguish I felt that must ever be mine, 
 And I plucked from its bosom the dart most distressing. 
 
 Deep tarnished with sin as it soared up above. 
 The arrow a grief and the lily a blessing 
 
 Were all that it left me, God's white sacred dove. 
 
 28 
 
SPIRIT OF DEVOTION. 
 
 Come to me while dews are falling. 
 And the night birds sweetly calling, 
 And the whip-poor-will sings sadly 
 In the distant brake and brae ; 
 While the twilight, soft and tender. 
 Hangs its tinted robes in splendor 
 Over nature, hushed and holy. 
 At the dying hour of day. 
 
 Come while in the mazy arches 
 Stars take up their silent marches, 
 And the mellow misty moon-beams 
 Spread a glimmer o'er the lea, 
 And the katydids and crickets 
 Chirp their vespers in the thickets, 
 
 And the nymphs with pearly dew-pails 
 Scatter mists o'er land and sea. 
 
 29 
 
Come, while queenly night, confessing, 
 Gains from priestly day the blessing 
 That reanimates her chilled heart, 
 
 Throbbing, wrapped in tear-moist dress, 
 And from beds of musk come creeping 
 Zephyr fairies, smiling, sweeping 
 Perfumes from the dozing roses 
 With their light wings' soft caress. 
 
 Stainless spirit of contrition. 
 Listen to my heart's petition. 
 As I raise my eyes before thee 
 Moist with penitential grief, 
 And implore the angel writing 
 In that great book, while inditing. 
 To erase the sins recorded 
 
 There against me on each leaf. 
 
 30 
 
A PLEA FOR FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Unknown friends so far away, 
 
 If I send to you this lay, 
 
 Written at the muses' play. 
 
 Will you blush and think me wrong 
 
 For intruding thus my song 
 
 Where Green mountain poets throng? 
 
 Or will you its friendship prize 
 Like the dainty blue that lies 
 Dreaming in a violet's eyes? 
 When you read it, will you be 
 Like the pippin on the tree. 
 Blushing back the sunlight free? 
 
 If so, friendship will be ours 
 Wreathed and crowned with posey's flowers 
 While we dwell in fancy's bowers! 
 Yes, and more, if we should meet; 
 Friends until the frost and sleet 
 Of old age checks life's retreat! 
 31 
 
THE SEPARATION. 
 
 I know that when she went from me hope's flowers all faded 
 
 out. 
 And where they'd bloomed there only grew the tangled 
 
 weeds of doubt, 
 And thorns and thistles frowned on me where late the roses 
 
 smiled. 
 Nor did I hear the bird's sweet songs again from out the 
 
 wild 
 As when we listened to their lays in days forever past, 
 And talked of love and asked our hearts if those sweet joys 
 
 might last. 
 
 The star-rays seemed to tangle in the night mists o'er my 
 
 head, 
 And the moon-beams moaned and beckoned ghostly shadows 
 
 from the dead, 
 And the sunlight fell as chilly as a cold December day. 
 Nothing wore the same bright aspect after she had gone 
 
 away. 
 For she had entranced all nature by her beauty, grace and 
 
 song. 
 And in going she had taken all their charms with her along. 
 
 32 
 
Never was a night so dreary but some star held out its light; 
 Never was a wrong so cruel that it did not bring some right, 
 Never a wind so wildly raging but it blew somebody good, 
 And in spite of all our grieving things will end just as they 
 
 should. 
 So it was when I quit drinking and Louise came back to me. 
 Bringing with her flowers and sunshine that I love so much 
 
 to see. 
 
 33 
 
SONGS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Softly on the night winds creeping, 
 As I lay in dreamless sleeping 
 Came a tinkling, tinkling, cheering 
 
 Nymph of melody divine ; 
 And her honeyed lips kept nipping. 
 At my ear and dripping, dripping 
 Note on note, then raised my eyelids 
 
 And her eyes smiled into mine. 
 
 How enchanted then I listened. 
 As the falling starlight glistened. 
 And the moon's enamored spirit 
 
 Stared and stroked my window-pane ; 
 And the honeysuckles tilted 
 O'er their cups as music lilted. 
 And the roses clapped their lives out, 
 
 At each subtle, stirring strain. 
 
 34 
 
Every sympathy appealing, 
 
 To my heart brought some sweet feeling, 
 
 And I dozed off into Dreamland, 
 
 While my soul soared with her lays ; 
 And I dreamed of flowery hedges, 
 Purling brooks and mossy ledges. 
 And I blessed the nymph for bringing 
 
 Back the songs of childhood days. 
 
 35 
 
MEDITATION, 
 
 I am sitting here to-night, 
 
 While the white 
 
 Fire light 
 Curls and dances like a sprite 
 
 From the fire ; 
 And I watch each ember part, 
 As the flame-sword strikes its heart, 
 And its spirit like a dart, 
 
 Speeds from sight. 
 
 And the ghosts of other days 
 
 Seem to gaze 
 
 From the blaze. 
 And to whisper softest lays 
 
 Of the past ; 
 Till the flame has left the coal, 
 And I see no more its soul, 
 As the ashes downward roll, 
 
 In the haze. 
 
 36 
 
And I sigh, for well I know, 
 
 On Time's flow 
 
 Love will go 
 Like fires that smoulder low, 
 
 In my grate ; 
 And to ashes friends will turn. 
 And their hearts no longer burn, 
 In that cold and silent urn, 
 
 'Neath the snow. 
 
 37 
 
DECEPTION. 
 
 We met in the darkness, she gave me a light — 
 
 A light that gleams only from soft dreamy eyes, 
 Down into the heart where it burns out the night 
 
 Shadows, that hover around it and rise 
 O'er the ghost of dead hope and the scenes of the past, 
 
 And then we were parted, she took it and fled, 
 And I gazed at the spear-pointed flame, till at last 
 
 It passed like a moan through the lips of the dead. 
 
 She gave me of honey and nectar, which drips 
 
 Distilled from her heart's fairest rose-words and smiles 
 And the perfumes around her were breathed from the lips 
 
 Of flowers that gladdened her soul's dreamy isles. 
 But at last in my goblet the wormwood she wrung. 
 
 Her smiles turned to scorn and her words into hate, 
 And her eyes thrust a dagger-like look, and it stung 
 
 The angel that guarded my heart's golden gate. 
 
 38 
 
CALL THEM BACK. 
 
 Call them back, those scenes of childhood, 
 Flowery lanes, and tangled wild wood, 
 Rusting chains of friendship broken. 
 Cruel looks and harsh words spoken ; 
 Call them back, and teach your heart 
 What it is to ache and smart. 
 
 Call them back, those rays that lingered 
 
 O'er the harp your fancy fingered, 
 
 Till your dead hopes rose from sleeping. 
 
 At each arioso sweeping. 
 
 Like some sweet, angelic song; 
 
 Call them, bid them linger long. 
 
 39 
 
Call them back, each smile and blessing, 
 Each warm touch of love carressing, 
 Each bright meteor spent while falling, 
 Each lone bird that's sweetly calling 
 For its mate from out the dell ; 
 Call them back with you to dwell. 
 
 Call them back on memory's pinions, 
 From the silent, dark dominions 
 Of the past, and ever cherish 
 Good, and let the evil perish ; 
 Call and let your heart be glad, 
 Love the pure and scorn the bad. 
 
 40 
 
TRUTH AND ERROR. 
 
 As war in Heaven fiercer grew 
 
 And angels fought with swords of flame, 
 The angel Error downward flew, 
 
 Toward the earth, to scatter shame, 
 O'er land and sea, and stint the mind, 
 And dwarf the soul of human kind. 
 But Truth beheld him in his flight. 
 And sped behind him with her light. 
 And as she neared, he backward flung 
 His spear, barbed like a viper's tongue, 
 When she applied her torch and burned 
 Its point until it drooped and turned. 
 He shrieked, and whet his bat-like wings, 
 With such tremendous force of might, 
 Her torch was snuffed out into night. 
 
 Then winging back toward the gate, 
 
 Through which she'd sought her way to earth, 
 
 She met Oppression, Error's mate. 
 Who cursed and ridiculed her worth ; 
 41 
 
And just behind him Justice came, 
 Bearing her scale of gold, aflame. 
 And grasping in her hand a chain, 
 
 With which to bind the tyrant low; 
 But on her foe she could not gain! 
 
 Her flight, alas! was far to slow. 
 Yet down to earth she came, and when 
 She sought the inner souls of men, 
 She learned Oppression there had been 
 And left the writings of his sin. 
 
 Truth at the gate looked back, and lo, 
 
 She saw each evil spirit hurled 
 Out from the sight of God, to go 
 
 Moaning through night to another world ; 
 To an outer world, a world of man, 
 Where each might lay some subtle plan. 
 To inflame the heart and ensnare the feet, 
 Of those along life's flowered retreat. 
 And then she passed the gate ajar 
 And gazed o'er Heaven near and far. 
 But not a spirit there remained 
 Who'd fought against the crown unstained, 
 And chanting anthems of release 
 The gates of Heaven closed in peace. 
 
 42 
 
EDGAR WELLTON COOLEY. 
 
 Earth fashioned his being, but God lit his soul 
 
 With the supernal rays of a spirit divine, 
 And gave him to drink from Minerva's pink bowl, 
 
 And builded his intellect like to a mine 
 Of diamonds and rubies and sapphires and gold, 
 
 That would be revealed to the wonder of men. 
 On the tablets of time ; these he doth unfold 
 
 By the magical genius and gift of his pen. 
 
 Each pulse of his heart bears a ray of the sun's. 
 
 Each thought is the kindling beam of a star; 
 His soul sweeps the universe over and runs 
 
 Thro* each planet that flames in the heavens afar. 
 His mind probes the most secret depths of the deep, 
 
 And brings up its jewels revealed to the light ; 
 He awakens the naiads and mermaids asleep. 
 
 To sing the smooth rhythm his pen doth indite. 
 
 43 
 
His meter is marked by the mocking-bird's note 
 
 And the musical murmuring stream as it flows, 
 And its sweetness is likened to perfumes that float 
 
 From the garments that mantle the hyacinth and rose ; 
 So sweet that all nature enchanted looks up 
 
 To the God-given source attuning all spheres, 
 And the souls thirsting lips plead again for a sup 
 
 Of melody's dew-drops that fall on our ears. 
 
 He mounts his Pegasus and rides to the moon. 
 
 And looks back at earth and the stars up above. 
 And smiles at their comets, and spirits that croon 
 
 O'er the forecasts of life, and the languor of love. 
 He dips from the cloud-pools the lightnings red ink. 
 
 And stoops down and writes on the mountain's white crest, 
 Then spurs into darkness and cuts every link 
 
 That shackles the light, with his pen, and is blest. 
 
 44 
 
IS THERE A SWEETER STRAIN? 
 
 It is said, dear friend, there's a sweeter strain 
 
 Than the notes of friendship's song. 
 But I've waited and listened for that refrain 
 'Till the brooding silence has brought me pain, 
 
 And I think the saying wrong. 
 For what is love but a strange sweet Flower 
 
 That withers and droops and dies 
 By the kiss of the sun and April shower? 
 A thing that thrills the heart for an hour. 
 
 And then its glory dies. 
 
 45 
 
BURNING OF THE STEAMER WELLINGHAM. 
 
 Slowly sought the sun, his pillow, and the twilight, o'er 
 each billow 
 Hovered like a drooping willow hovers o'er the dead's 
 decay ; 
 Softly, through the ether streaming, came the starlight's 
 mystic beaming, 
 And the moon, in guileless seeming, hung her lamp above 
 the bay. 
 
 As the boat steamed up the river, wakening each rippling 
 quiver 
 To a weird, fantastic shiver, shuddering from the steam- 
 er's keel ; 
 While the engine's tireless sighing, floated gently off reply- 
 ing 
 To the waves, as they fled flying from the splashing of the 
 wheel ; 
 
From the cabin, brightly glowing, music's sweetest strains 
 came flowing. 
 Then the smiles, on faces showing hope and happiness 
 and glee, 
 And the eyes grow dull to pleasure, closed in slumber's 
 dreamy measure — 
 Closed to dream of some fair treasure, that in life they'd 
 never see. 
 
 In his chair, the clerk sat dozing, in a broken sleep reposing. 
 And ,the clock ticked off the closing of the midnight's 
 gloomy hour, 
 When suddenly, the pilot weary, at his post in silence 
 dreary. 
 Blew the danger signal, clearly, with the force of frenzy's 
 power. 
 
 As a beast intent on killing, as a fiend for carnage willing, 
 Sped the red-tongued monster, filling every crevice with 
 his fire! 
 Rushing madly, clawing, gnashing, twisting, lifting, curling, 
 lashing, 
 With his gilded flame-thong flashing, like the lightning's 
 seething ire ! 
 
 47 
 
Life to him was but a trifle, as he leaped with joy to rifle 
 That fair bark, that night, and stifle many a panic-stricken 
 soul ! 
 And I hear me yet, their groaning, and their piteous prayers 
 and moaning, 
 Like a weird, unearthly droning, from some deep Plu- 
 tonian goal! 
 
 Oh! what mind, with wisdom teeming, can depict the awful 
 seeming 
 Of those hopeless mortals screaming, as the flames around 
 them swept! 
 And they plunged into the river, with their frightened eyes 
 aquiver 
 With a wild glare, when death's shiver chilled — and they 
 forever slept ! 
 
 48 
 
'^> 
 
 THE QUARTER THAT HE SAVES. 
 
 Man may fashion to his fancy each stone in the wall of life ; 
 May fight the many battles that are known to earthly strife ; 
 May sail the seas of fiction, and roam poesy's dreamy isles; 
 May scale the mystic mountains, and delve deep in history's 
 
 piles ; 
 Dine with science and invention, and measure mystery's 
 
 miles. 
 But the greatest secret to be solved, from the cradle to the 
 
 grave. 
 Is the art of making money, and the quarters he can save. 
 
 There is nothing in existence higher praised than man's 
 
 success. 
 Failure never meets approval, as it wears a tattered dress. 
 And he who crouches in the darkness with his empty hands 
 
 at rest, 
 Fearing to go forth and battle with the world, makes life 
 
 a jest. 
 Yet he, who seeks companions that he may choose the best, 
 May search the wide world over for the comrade that he 
 
 craves, 
 
 But will find no friend that's truer than the quarter that he 
 
 saves. 
 D 49 
 
IN THE DARK. 
 
 Hushed was the hour- and the great golden sea of day 
 
 Had paused, while drifted in each warm, each pulsing 
 ray of light. 
 Darkness descended in her dreary perfumed robes 
 
 And wrote her name upon the ebon scroll of night. 
 The stars lay drunken in the dreamy, drowsy mist 
 
 And had not lit their beacons; and the moon, it seemed, 
 Had sent her messengers for light, and they were lost. 
 
 Darkness reigned queen alone, while nature slept and 
 dreamed. 
 
 A dim light's flickering glare lit up my lonely room, 
 
 As I sat musing over life's mysterious chain : — 
 How it was fashioned, burnished, or made dull and cold, 
 
 With here a link of pleasure, there a link of pain. 
 I heard the voice of footsteps passing by my door, 
 
 That sounded like sweet music to my ear, and then, 
 No sound was heard, save but the dirge the night winds sing, 
 
 And my soul grew sad and longed for day again. 
 
 50 
 
*'It may be that this holds a jewel from the sun, 
 
 Sent by some fairy's hand to light my gloomy mind ;'* 
 I thought, as I unsealed a dainty envelope. 
 
 And gazed upon a neatly folded sheet, to find 
 Three words alone, which wrapped another mystery 
 
 Around night's flapping sails, and doubt's flood-worn ark, 
 And then I said, "Oh, sorcerers and seers of old. 
 
 Solve me the meaning of these three words — "In the dark." 
 
 But in her black pavilion, sulky silence sat 
 
 And opened not her lips ; not even was a thought 
 Sent out to kindle mind with her supernal flames. 
 
 And yet, to solve the meaning of these words, I sought 
 In vain, until, o'er maddened, I blew out the light, 
 
 And then the mystery unfolded like a pink 
 Unrolls its blushing petals to the kiss of day — 
 
 For words unseen now glowed in phosphorescent ink. 
 
 51 
 
MAN. 
 
 Oh, man, how weak thou art; how frail in all, 
 Save to aspire and live and count thy days. 
 
 Thy castles are mere fabrics, soon to fall 
 And sink amid approval, blame or praise. 
 
 Hope lifts thee up ; ambition hears thy call, 
 
 And yet thy ways are not God's wondrous ways, 
 
 Because thou canst not feel nor understand 
 
 The mighty works of His mysterious hand. 
 
 A child of progress, yet a thing of shame ; 
 
 Sublime, ignoble ; lofty and yet low ; 
 A spark between two worlds ; a transient flame 
 
 That glows intense, but flits and flickers so. 
 By it one scarce has time to pen his name ; 
 
 A cloud o'er which is but the sacred bow. 
 That gilds the storm, and as we view the light, 
 We sigh, alas! to note its speedy flight. 
 
Truthful, yet false; a coward, and yet brave; 
 
 True, and betraying still ; a friend, a foe ; 
 A worm, a god; philosopher, a knave; 
 
 Known, yet hidden ; ripe, yet in the dough ; 
 A wonder-working prince to feed the grave ; 
 
 A shadow, moving thither to and fro. 
 That leaves a trace of something lit of mind, 
 Then vanishes in darkness, dim and blind. 
 
 Thou art an atom thirsty with desire. 
 
 That never dies, though time may thwart thy aims, 
 And quench at last ambition's fitful fire. 
 
 That stirs the soul of youth to deeper flames. 
 With thee came gain and loss ; pleasure and ire ; 
 
 Passion and pride and wealth ; yet nature tames 
 Thee on her bosom. But an infant care 
 Thou art, as when first taught thy childish prayer. 
 
 And thou shalt love and worship, and yet lose ; 
 
 Soar, and sink back ; arise and sink again ; 
 Fashion to fancy, seek and find ; and choose, 
 
 Yet all will vanish, leaving thee but pain. 
 About thee, fate entwines her fatal noose, 
 
 And moves thee on with nature's noiseless train. 
 Thy tears, and hopes, and prayers can nought avail 
 Death's ear is deaf to man's poor wretched wail. 
 
 53 
 
Thy heart may yearn to move the mighty world ; 
 
 To cahn the winds, and still the rolling tide. 
 Yet, in the silence, they are onward hurled, 
 
 Leaving thy hopeful heart unsatisfied. 
 Not by thy skill was bud by dew impearled ; 
 
 Not by thy might does blazing Pheolus ride, 
 But thou art as the insect on the crust 
 Of mother earth, thou treadest into dust. 
 
 Thou hast a place, yet not a throne on earth, 
 Nor on the orbs that circle round the sun, 
 
 For they in beau^^y, brilliance, splendor, worth, 
 Rolled many cycles ere thy race begun ! 
 
 The vast creation knoweth not thy birth. 
 
 Though empires fall, and cities sleep undone ; 
 
 Thou hast no part in nature's stir and strife — 
 
 Thy voice spake not the universe to life. 
 
 Thou didst not give the seas their jeweled beds, 
 Nor fill the vaulted sky with ether waves ; 
 
 Nor cap with snow the mountains' lofty heads ; 
 Nor goad the dreadful crater till it raves. 
 
 But thou canst feel the force that nature sheds. 
 
 And thou canst strew the earth with myriad graves^ 
 
 Just as thou wasteth, nature wasteth thee. 
 
 Vain, boasting man! How brief thy time to be! 
 54 
 
Thou canst not chain the lightnings in their pride; 
 
 Nor hush the dreaded thunder's sullen roar; 
 Nor stay the imperious avalanche's slide; 
 
 Nor lock the hurricane within thy door. 
 By all, save beast alone, thou art defied, 
 
 Although thy thoughts to distant worlds may soar ; 
 Still thou art lost, because thou canst not feel 
 And understand what nature doth reveal. 
 
 Fate gives thee birth, and mankind lifts thee up, 
 Or lowers thee, as it doth please him best ; 
 
 Sorrow and joy alike doth fill thy cup. 
 
 From which thou drinkest either cursed or blest. 
 
 Full many a flowing nectar thou may'st sup ; 
 Full many a pang to give thy soul unrest. 
 
 All thou canst do, is live, seek, slave and sigh; 
 
 And follow after beckoning hopes — and die. 
 
 To die? Ah yes, what is it but a sleep, 
 Wherein we loose this heavy clog of clay? 
 
 A pleasant dream, from which we wake to keep 
 A spirit form through all eternal day ? 
 
 The grave should hold no fear to make men weep, 
 As it, to higher life, doth point the way, 
 
 Where every pang and plague of earthly strife. 
 
 Is swallowed up in sweetest celestial life. 
 
 55 
 
THE VISIBLE PANDEMONIUM. 
 
 The Hell I see is not where spirits band 
 
 Together in some torturing place of gloom, 
 
 Beyond the grave, where fiends satanic stand 
 And plead for respite from a burning tomb, 
 
 But here on earth there lies on every hand 
 
 Fell Erebus, tnat brings to each, unpitying doom. 
 
 And makes us wish that right, not wrong, would win 
 
 Each human soul from suffering deep, and sin. 
 
 Go view the dens where man his revels holds. 
 And swaggards quaff damnations liquid flame ; 
 
 Where wild delirium wraps him in its folds. 
 While like a thief he fouls his Maker's name. 
 
 Men crazed by drink, when all the story's told. 
 
 Have strewn the land with woe, want, death and shame. 
 
 In this a hell I see, deep, ruinous and dire, 
 
 Where is no lake of burning brimstone fire. 
 
 56 
 
Where Prostitution flaunts her shameless face, 
 Do not the throes of Hell engender there? 
 
 There loathsome death and pestilence embrace, 
 And future ages these vile horrors share ? 
 
 The lustful soul raped thus of every grace, 
 Is left a putrid mass in dark despair. 
 
 Is not this Hell ? Then teach me sacred verse, 
 
 Where I may find a fouler hell, or worse! 
 
 The ghoulish ruffian, stained with blood and crime. 
 Who shuns the light, and seeks night's gloomy scroll, 
 
 Who, like a snaki', crawls through the filth and slime, 
 On murder bent! So dwarfed his meagre soul. 
 
 That, dragged by force from out his beastly grime, 
 He'd scurry back to some obscurer hole! 
 
 Tell me, ye priests, I pray you truly tell. 
 
 Is truth, and love, and decency his hell? 
 
 The bawd procurer, lustful, seeks his prey. 
 His chiefest aim, some virtuous life to blast; 
 
 Disowns his conscience, throws all good away. 
 While villainy and falsehood, overcast 
 
 The truer light of manhood's perfect day; 
 A fouler whelp of vice can not be classed 
 
 With men. A brute so whelmed with purpose, fell, 
 
 But seeks to make of earth a noisome hell. 
 57 
 
Within the dark and solemn, silent hours, 
 While innocence and virtue lie asleep, 
 
 The abject miser, meanly, basely cowers, 
 
 And holds communion with his hoarded heap. 
 
 The coins, to him, have strange, mysterious powers, 
 And sink his small and niggard soul so deep, 
 
 That, palsied by their sick'ning, baleful spell. 
 
 He, dog-like, revels in his yellow hell. 
 
 In prison cells, the wretched convicts wait, 
 
 Hedged in with walls of brick and steel and stone ; 
 
 Shut from the world by the strong hand of fate. 
 Where no kind voice responds to sorrow's moan, 
 
 Till weariness and grief insatiate, 
 
 Take all but life, and that left drear and lone ; 
 
 For those, who thus with silent horrors dwell, 
 
 There can exist elsewhere no viler hell. 
 
 The judge, in ermine, fringed and stuffed with gold ; 
 
 The court officials, smirched with lucre's stains; 
 The lawyers and the jurors, bought and sold. 
 
 Pit man 'gainst man, for base, ill-gotten gains. 
 Twixt life and death, the innocent they hold. 
 
 Within some cell bound down by legal chains. 
 Until e'en thought grows sick, that knows so well, 
 That these foul devils' kennels are but hell! 
 58 
 
Where nodding trees swing restless to and fro, 
 Across the path the whispering winds have made 
 
 Lone, lorn, and desolate, and marked with woe. 
 The pest-house stands beneath their silent shade. 
 
 Above its walls the reeking odors blow. 
 
 And noxious death befouls the slumbering glade, 
 
 Proclaiming loud to God and man as well. 
 
 That earth holds many a weirdly, loathsome hell. 
 
 In these sin-crimsoned scenes on every hand, 
 
 I trace the shadows low'ring o'er life's road ; 
 I hear and see; I feel and understand, 
 
 That villainy still seeks each vile abode, 
 And while within emotions, true and grand. 
 
 Live yet, the heart would gladly void its load — 
 Existence fain would break its filmy shell, 
 
 And scape by death, each cursed gloomy hell. 
 
 59 
 
WHERE THE BATTLE WAS FOUGHT. 
 
 When the earth at dawn awakened in the hammock of her 
 dreams, 
 And the sun turned back the coverlet of darkness from her 
 brow, 
 She shivered as the tempest hid the sun's enamored beams 
 And wrapped her in its mantle, and kissed her with a vow. 
 
 A soft, white, fleecy vesture, unruffled and unstained, 
 As fair as any lily that e'er kissed the lips of light, 
 
 Was her snow-robe on that morning the war-worn soldiers 
 gained 
 Their position for the conflict and gazed along the height. 
 
 When the dusky queen of dreamland scattered darkness 
 
 from her wings. 
 
 And the moon hung out in heaven her dreamy, lurid light, 
 
 She sighed to see earth's garment deeply stained and torn in 
 
 strings, 
 
 And swooned in an eclipse from the soul-appalling sight. 
 
 60 
 
THE HEAD LINES OF A LETTER. 
 
 Grim night her sable curtain spreads across the world, 
 
 While sighing winds their doleful tales repeat; 
 The dews descend, and every flower's impearled 
 
 With nature's breath, the life of all that's sweet; 
 The gloaming's past; the vesper's song has died, 
 
 The moon's soft dimpled face steals o'er the hillsy 
 While in their cars, the blazing planets ride. 
 
 And slowly grind the gods' unceasing mills. 
 
 And I sit here within my lonely room. 
 
 Tracing the thread that winds existence down ; 
 No friend to cheer, no smile to light the gloom, 
 
 While fate and fortune deign on me to frown — 
 Frown, while hope's angel, smiling, strokes the face 
 
 Of darkness with her snowy, sunlit wings ; 
 And sprinkles wine from out a jeweled vase. 
 
 To heal the heart that melancholy stings. 
 
 6i 
 
My thoughts alone are all that I possess, 
 
 And, were they set aflame in poesy's urn, 
 Me-thinks they would be quenched in wretchedness, 
 
 Before one living eye would see them burn ; 
 Oh, why this deathless thirst for fame and power, 
 
 When all the world laughs at our bootless aim. 
 And friendless, homeless, moneyless we cower 
 
 Beneath its jest, and crawl to win a name? 
 
 62 
 
A LESSON IN MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 In the hall of the gods one still summer night, 
 
 Where roses and lillies breathed sweetest perfumes, 
 A goddess appeared, in her mantle of light, 
 
 Wearing buds sweeter still than the god's choicest blooms. 
 And when they beheld her enrapturing face, 
 
 That glowed like dew-pearls in a lily's white throat, 
 Apollo, enamored by her magic grace, 
 
 Struck his lyre's gold chords, while note after note 
 Dripped off the strings in a rhythmical stream. 
 Like the perfumes that drip from a rose in its dream. 
 
 This charmed the sweet goddess, whose cheeks were as fair 
 
 As snow-misted marble revealed to the light. 
 And stroking the threads of her mystical hair. 
 
 She danced to the notes like a mythical sprite. ^ 
 Then smiling, she gave young Apollo a pink. 
 
 That bloomed in the warm pulsing heart of the moon, 
 Around which was woven a chain, link by link, 
 
 From the dainty gold beads she had plucked from his tune. 
 
 63 
 
Then dissensions arose and the gods angry grew, 
 
 To think that Apollo had won such a prize, 
 Till Hercules wrathfully seized her and threw 
 
 Her out in the fathomless mists of the skies. 
 Then Jupiter put in his jewels and swore, 
 
 And called upon Phoebus to check her dread flight, 
 When her hair, and the long trailing raiments she wore 
 
 Were instantly turned to a mantle of light. 
 
 But they could not recall the rash act that was done. 
 
 And as jealousy raged so intense in the hall. 
 Each god took an oath with the god of the sun, 
 
 That she have no rest, but eternal must fall 
 Through space, round and round each planet that rolled, 
 
 Till the universe melted and sank into night; 
 And they called her just Comet, because of the gold 
 
 Tinted robes that she wore and the speed of her flight. 
 
 64 
 
CUSTER'S LAST BATTLE. 
 
 Tired and worn the forces halted, 
 
 While the low, descending sun 
 Sank behind the towering mountains, 
 
 As the busy day was done. 
 And the camp-fires lit the valley 
 
 With a glimmering, ghostly light, 
 As they faded in the darkness 
 
 Of the hushed and solemn night. 
 
 Then the midnight*s deathly shadows 
 
 Sealed their drowsy lids in sleep ; 
 And the breeze from off the mountains 
 
 Seemed to softly sob and weep, 
 Through the branches of the forest, 
 
 As the darkness wore away. 
 And the silent stars and sentries 
 
 Held their vigils until day. 
 
 65 
 
As the dawning day unfolded 
 
 Light above the mountain peaks, 
 Horror stupified their visions ; 
 
 Terror blanched their glowing cheeks, 
 As the painted savage legions 
 
 Hedged the mountain sides and dells, 
 And the cliffs and forests trembled 
 
 At their dread and hideous yells. 
 
 As a Jupiter, when maddened, 
 
 With the lightnings at his back, 
 Hurls the thunder-bolts of heaven 
 
 Fierce and wild along his track, 
 So they rushed in furious hatred 
 
 To the wild tumultuous fray. 
 Like a hissing prairie fire. 
 
 That spares nothing on its way. 
 
 When the sun had climbed the mountains. 
 Death-like shades obscured the light. 
 
 For the sullen war-cloud bound it 
 In its blood-stained folds of night. 
 
 And this sad and solemn message 
 
 Floated over hill and plain ; 
 
 Tn the valley of the Big Horn, 
 
 Custer and his men lie slain." 
 66 
 
Still the snow-caps dress the mountains ; 
 
 Still the valley blooms with flowers, 
 And the little Big Horn river 
 
 Flows eternal with the hours ; 
 Still the star-beams shine forever, 
 
 Spectral sentinels keeping guard 
 O'er the slumbers of the soldiers. 
 
 Sleeping underneath the sward ! 
 
 67 
 
WHEN IT SNOWS. 
 
 The night retires ; young day awakes in chill ; 
 
 Snowflakes descend o'er city, vale and hill, 
 
 Lightly rifting, softly sifting through the dawning o'er 
 
 the land, 
 As if they were rose leaves drifting from an unseen 
 
 angel's hand. 
 Blue, through the mist, the smoky currents rise, 
 Commingling with the white flakes from the skies. 
 
 The brown earth powders white her dusky face. 
 
 And smiles in dreamy fancy at her grace. 
 
 Brighter growing, as the flowing flakes fall silently and 
 
 light. 
 In the north wind drifting, blowing, till they hide her 
 
 dimples white. 
 Then like a bride in virgin beauty sweet. 
 She slumbers folded in her milk white sheet. 
 
 68 
 
Along the stream the solemn forest stands, 
 
 Catching the chilly fleece with naked hands, 
 
 Bowing, dreaming, at the seeming loveliness of its own 
 
 dress. 
 Till the sun's impassioned beaming burns the fleece to 
 
 nothingness. 
 Then it lifts its hoary head with many sighs, 
 While snow-tears melt and trickle from its eyes. 
 
THE DREAMERS. 
 
 This world's a rusty riddle ; an interwoven net, 
 That entangles and confines the mind in mystery, and yet, 
 Through every mazy labyrinth, we seek and search to find 
 Some jeweled theory, to throw new light into the mind. 
 And every time the earth revolves, some sage comes bound- 
 ing out, 
 With his dark lantern, shouting, "Eureka, do not doubt." 
 We canter to the customs of every turn and phase. 
 And weakly, blindly follow each advocated craze. 
 No matter how denying to the human race it seems — 
 The world is filled with dreaming, and the dreamer tells his 
 dreams ! 
 
 Oh, the myths, and creeds, and dogmas, thrown from the 
 
 orb of night, 
 Glint through the mist of reason, but in Superstition's light, 
 Quite confound the dreamy vision, while each stalehypothesis, 
 Like a scepter, comes before us from some fathomless abyss. 
 Till Philosophy, Doubt's armorbearer, like a slave set free. 
 Breaks through the darkness with his torch, that we may 
 
 clearly see 
 The face of Truth, as she is seen through Nature's won- 
 drous plan, 
 
 So long obscured in darkness, by the myths and creeds of man. 
 
 70 
 
THE WAR. 
 
 It has gone with its tenors, and anguish, and death, 
 Like the cyclone's mad sweep, or the Simoon's hot breath 
 It has gone, and peace reigns over mountain and plain, 
 Where the green tufted mounds make a note of the slain; 
 It has gone, but its ghost stalks on sea and on shore. 
 In gore-tinted robes, midst the gloom evermore. 
 
 How well we recall when the red eye of war 
 Flashed vengeance and death to our kin near and far; 
 And camp-fires shone over each battle worn host. 
 While the vigilant sentinel stood at his post, 
 Till the soldier awoke from some pitiful dream. 
 But to bend o'er his comrade and watch his life stream 
 Ebb away, as the tide pouring over a steep, 
 Rushes on and is lost in the fathomless deep. 
 
 No longer our cities are fed to the fiend 
 
 Of war — for its terrible harvest is gleaned ; 
 
 No more civic slaughter, the earth's foulest stain, 
 
 That man ever witnessed on land or on mam, 
 
 But the goddess of freedom wears peace as her crown, 
 
 And her light hides the anger of War's sullen frown. 
 
 71 
 
IN A WORLD BORN TO DOUBT. 
 
 In a world born to doubt, I went seeking one day 
 
 A secret unknown to the giddy and gay, 
 
 And as down the streets of the city I went, 
 
 Meeting faces that seemingly glowed with content ; 
 
 Meeting faces as fair as enchantment e'er told, 
 
 And others that stared, all expressionless, cold. 
 
 I questioned each look, each glance of the eye, 
 
 But the secret lay hid in the heart of a sigh, 
 
 And a spirit that answers the soul's earnest call 
 
 Whispered soft as a zephyr's: "The face tells not all.'^ 
 
 I stood on the bank of the ocean and gazed, 
 
 As day on the altar of night dimly blazed, 
 
 And I sighed, as the last fringy flickering light 
 
 Faded into the deep, melted into the night; 
 
 While star-gleams in love kissed the hills and the sea, 
 
 And the waves seemiCd to echo a sweet lullaby, 
 
 And the moon in her bark o'er the ether waves smiled,. 
 
 As a mother would smile o'er her slumbering child. 
 
 While a voice, falling soft as the night-shades do fall, 
 
 Said: "Know ye, O Mortal, Love tells not all?" 
 
 72 
 
'There are secrets that sleep in the womb of the earth, 
 Which in no mortal mind will ever have birth. 
 Each face that you meet is nor compass nor chart 
 Of the deep lying seas of the soul's inner heart, 
 Each star holds a secret as dark as a tomb, 
 And the sun's burning light to the mind is but gloom. 
 The air floating round you, the waters that roll, 
 The flowers that bloom, and the thoughts of your soul 
 Are murmurs which echo through mystery's hall, 
 Moaning ever and ever, 'Life tells not all.' " 
 
 And then while the night rocked the ocean, a storm 
 
 Rose out of its bosom which heaved in alarm. 
 
 And I saw on the weird, maddened waves, rolling high, 
 
 A vessel that tossed in the lightning's red eye, 
 
 Like a soul that is lost in a city of souls, 
 
 Till ravished it lay on the pitiless shoals, 
 
 And as the mad sea wrung its hands in affright. 
 
 There came a loud voice falling out of the night — 
 
 A voice falling dark as a funeral pall, 
 
 Crying: "Death, foolish man, alone telleth all." 
 
 73 
 
'TIS SWEET. 
 
 'Tis sweet when perfumed zephyrs mildly creep 
 From leaf to leaf, from budding pink to rose, 
 
 To sit and gaze far through the ether deep, 
 
 And watch the moon and stars wake from repose. 
 
 'Tis sweet by music to be lulled to sleep, 
 
 And as your drowsy eyelids droop and close. 
 
 Float in your dreams to some elysian isle. 
 
 Where every sound is love, and every bud a smile. 
 
 'Tis sweet to sit upon the lonely shore, 
 
 Free from all care, and hear the murmuring deep. 
 And watch the sea-gulls flitting on and o'er, 
 
 Like spectres of the air that never sleep. 
 'Tis sweet to scent the salty breeze and pour 
 
 Your dreamy meditations on each heap 
 Of ocean's treasures, and the gems that lie 
 Revealed alone unto the mermaid's eye. 
 
 74 
 
'Tis sweet to watch the ships come in from sea, 
 
 And know some loved one soon shall have returned ; 
 
 Sweet is the thought of mother, and to be 
 
 With her whose heart for you so long hath yearned ; 
 
 'Tis sweet once more to sit upon her knee. 
 
 As when a child, that infant prayer you learned, 
 
 And feel and know that loving spirit still 
 
 Abides, unchanged, through every good or ill. 
 
 But sweeter 'tis at eve, the sun sunk low. 
 When brawny labor seeks his home to rest. 
 
 To see, from out his cottage window glow 
 A light, to thrill and cheer his honest breast; 
 
 'Tis sweet to meet his children and to know. 
 With health and comfort, he and his are blest ; 
 
 Sweet are their smiles, their childish songs and prayers, 
 
 Although they've brought to him a thousand cares. 
 
 Oh ! home of labor, sweet thy walks and ways. 
 Where smiling lips await to kiss and greet. 
 
 And sinless, baby eyes look up in praise. 
 
 To cheer the gladdened soul of those they meet; 
 
 Oh! home of toil, thy hearth, thy firelight's blaze, 
 Makes the dark shadows of despair retieat. 
 
 Where love and sympathy and joy unite 
 
 In one supernal halo of delight. 
 
 75 
 
A SONG OF A JOY RETURNED. 
 
 My life was once like a starless night 
 
 In its mantled gloom with no ray of light, 
 
 So strewn with wrecks of my hopeful years, 
 
 So gorged with failure, o'erflowed with tears, 
 
 Pursued by storm's relentless sway, 
 
 That I scarce had hope of a brighter day. 
 
 Who has persuaded, with good effect. 
 The heartless world to give respect 
 When censure's eye and venomed tongue 
 Have poisoned words to world out flung? 
 Who has not cherished a hope in vain. 
 To feel but torture; to know but pain? 
 
 Oh, sighing sadness, go hide thy face, 
 Till its furrowed lines I no longer trace. 
 For joy's bright rays have again returned 
 Into my gloomy heart and burned 
 The last dark shadow that hovered there. 
 Like the pall o'er the altar of despair. 
 
 76 
 
TAKE LIFE AS IT IS. 
 
 Take life as it is and dread not the future, 
 
 Though the past you have seen through a veil-cloud of tears. 
 There's somewhere on earth a loved spot for each creature 
 
 To harvest a sheaf of sweet comfort in years. 
 Why fret life away like the storm cloud that rises, 
 
 And wastes itself mad sweeping over the plain.? 
 Why not spend it calmly, as voiceless clouds gather. 
 
 And let down the mists of the morning in rain? 
 
 Take life as it is ; or as God has intended. 
 
 Let the soul soar away from the shadows of night. 
 Treat the earth as a garment that stain has offended. 
 
 And borrow from Heaven your treasure of light. 
 The smiles and the tears, the frowns and the sighing, 
 
 Are things that we reap from the broad field of life. 
 The pain and the pleasure our days are supplying. 
 
 But add to our measure of bliss or of strife. 
 
 77 
 
Yet what do these profit the web that is woven? 
 
 Even friendship's fond vows and the sweet tales of love 
 Are hollow and empty, unless they are proven 
 
 In fond deeds inspired by the Father above. 
 Our trials and sorrows may come as a blessing 
 
 Clothed in disguise, as our rank passion schools, 
 Yet we should strive every day for the better, 
 
 Believing in all that a Providence rules. 
 
 You, on the tread-mills of life, worn and weary; 
 
 You, in the dark-hidden mines of the earth ; 
 You, in the chambers of prison so dreary, 
 
 Know peace and plenty may smile at your hearth. 
 No one can see what the future holds sacred. 
 
 Nor can they measure the strength of their years. 
 Flowers often grow where the sands have been watered 
 
 By blood of the dying and sorrowing tears. 
 
 Soldier, your lot may be hard and ungrateful; 
 
 Lover, your love unpropitous may be ; 
 Sailor, your life may be cast with the hateful 
 
 Storms tossing you on a mad, surging sea. 
 Yet to the warrior the angel of mercy 
 
 Bearing the olive of peace soon must come. 
 And with his bride will the once saddened lover 
 
 Watch the brave sailor land safely at home. 
 
 78 
 
Friend to the bowl whose riches are squandered, 
 
 Curse you the idol now sealed to your breast? 
 Why to the shores of despair have you wandered, 
 
 Since God wisely willed everything to be best? 
 Life is a union of much dissipation, 
 
 And though the snares have inveigled your feet, 
 Providence wisely made it His mission 
 
 And left ample room for your saving retreat. 
 
 Let hope in the future e'er silence our sadness. 
 
 Though our past has been draped with the veil of regret ; 
 'Tis sinful to spend life in folly and madness, 
 
 Because fortune's light has not dawned on us yet. 
 For, out of the shadows of night while we slumber, 
 
 The angel of mercy, with all her rich store. 
 May pause for a moment to smile on us sleeping. 
 
 And leave us a blessing stacked up at our door. 
 
 79 
 
SLANDER, 
 
 When will the golden dawn arrive, 
 Proclaiming peace on earth, 
 
 And Slander and his consorts 
 Gasp and strangle at their birth ! 
 
 Oh God! when will our people 
 Be freed from Slander's chain? 
 
 And when will Thy true Kingdom 
 Upon this dark earth reign ? 
 
 When will the lips of liars 
 Be ever sealed and dumb, 
 
 Before the scorn of mortal, 
 
 And the wrath of God to come? 
 
 80 
 
UPWARD. 
 
 Spirit, that cleaves the highest height, 
 With whiteness whiter than the white 
 Far up beyond the light of light, 
 
 Carry my rod, 
 And aid my feet that I may climb 
 
 And leave my hope with God. 
 
 8i 
 
JEALOUSY. 
 
 Oh curse thee, hag, with thy dark spider eyes, 
 Too well do I remember neath the moon 
 
 The time I met thee and esteemed thee wise 
 And hearkened to thy witchery and croon, 
 
 Not dreaming that thou sported Psyche's guise 
 As splendid as the virgin sighs of June. 
 
 Not dreaming that in thy perfumed robes there toyed 
 
 And coiled the adder of all peace destroyed. 
 
 Not thinking, that when first with thee I sipped 
 
 That strange mysterious wine from Vesta's bowers, 
 
 That I had quaffed a poison: One that dripped 
 In four-fold triturations from the flowers 
 
 Of ceaseless agony. I might have dipped 
 A pearl-shell ladle into Reason's showers, 
 
 And drank, as Bacchus drank himself to sleep, 
 
 Nor pang of thine to burn and make me weep. 
 
 82 
 
Accursed the time I drifted in thy bark 
 
 With thee, while Peace knelt down upon the beach. 
 And sobbed with wild gulls, moaning to the dark. 
 
 As she stretched out her arms in dismal reach, 
 As reach lost souls to grasp God's saving ark 
 
 From torments deeper than the lips might teach. 
 O, thou hast made my heart so swart with sin 
 Love takes affright whene'er she gazes in. 
 
 83 
 
IN SLUMBER LAND. 
 
 Night came creeping o'er my dreaming, 
 
 But the dream was sweet to me, 
 As I wandered where the gleaming 
 
 Star-dust fell into the sea, 
 And the moon bent down and whispered 
 
 To the waves a fond good-night, 
 As she bathed her feet and ankles 
 
 In a gleaming bowl of white. 
 From which dripped in quivering beauty 
 
 Flossy streams of liquid light. 
 
 And as Luna sailed off smiling. 
 
 In her golden bark of June ; 
 Fairy forms pursued her, piling 
 
 Wreaths of sombre and maroon 
 All around her, till the darkness 
 
 Covered up her dreamy hair. 
 And the mermen chasing after — 
 
 Chasing as but mermen dare — 
 Gave the water with their torches 
 
 A pure purple, sea-shell glare. 
 84 
 
Then in Oriental splendor 
 
 O'er the waves a vessel came, 
 Decked with fish-scales, and the tender 
 
 Tintings of them cast a flame 
 Round about it, like the glory 
 
 That enwraps a hedge that's old 
 In the sun glare of October, • 
 
 When in mats of bronze and gold 
 Autumn stands to greet November, 
 
 Her old frost-crowned lover bold. 
 
 Oh, 'twas sweet to me while dreaming 
 
 To behold the vessel's crew. 
 And their rainbow sails a-streaming, 
 
 Brightened by the falling dew. 
 And to hear the lilting music, 
 
 And each pulsing undertone, 
 Floating off from fairy fingers 
 
 And from lily-bugles blown, 
 While my soul, through heights of fragrance, 
 
 Breathed its way to God's white throne. 
 
 85 
 
THE BANQUET. 
 
 In the heart of a populous city 
 
 In a palace of grandeur and art, 
 Where Luxury's minions are smiling, 
 
 And Fashion holds sway in the heart, 
 They are holding a banquet to honor 
 
 A man with his millions of gold ; 
 Not thinking of aught save their pleasures, 
 
 As greedy Belshazzer of old. 
 
 Where rank and position are welcomed, 
 
 Joy sparkles the wine in its bowl. 
 While music, fair heavenly maiden. 
 
 Draws love's sweetest notes from her soul. 
 In vases of china and silver 
 
 Are flowers from a tropical grove, 
 Whose fragrance, by light winds, is wafted, 
 
 Like the mesmeric odors of love. 
 
 86 
 
Unminding the tears and the sorrow, 
 
 That saddens the world and the soul, 
 They sit at their table cajoling 
 
 To welcome the kiss of the bowl. 
 As the small, nimble feet of the giddy 
 
 Speed on with the musical dance, 
 Hands clasping iiands overburdened 
 
 With diamonds that dazzle the glance. 
 
 Near by, in a dark, gloomy garret, 
 
 A poor widow, wayworn and sore. 
 Sees her little ones steal from the window 
 
 To a pallet of straw on the floor. 
 Their ears had grown dull to the music ; 
 
 Their eager eyes lulled into sleep. 
 And the mother, with heart overburdened, 
 
 Bends o'er them, in pity, to weep. 
 
 They thought not of sorrow nor sadness, 
 
 Nor of earth's selfish darkness of night; 
 As the satellites borrow their sunshine. 
 
 They witnessed this scene of delight, 
 Where the damask and purple hung fragrant, 
 
 With odors of roses and vine. 
 And gaslights that mimicked the splendor 
 
 Of a glimpse of a glory divine. 
 87 
 
At midnight, patrician and peasant 
 Alike heard the clock tell the hour, 
 
 One stitching for bread in the garret, 
 (The other, in luxury's bower! ) 
 
 Poor, sickened, and saddened, still sewing 
 For a pitiless privilege to stay 
 
 And thread out her life on a garment 
 To the stroke of the shuttle each day. 
 
 At daylight the banquet is over. 
 
 Its mirth and its music are flown, 
 As sunlight steals into the garret 
 
 To witness a poor, lifeless stone! 
 In her fingers the shuttle lies empty. 
 
 From the spool she has wasted life's thread, 
 And the garment is yet to be finished 
 
 To buy her three children their bread. 
 
 Oh God ! how I pity a people 
 
 Whose aims are so selfish and high! 
 
 Oh God, how I pity the wretched. 
 Who have to thus struggle and die! 
 
 One whirls in the maelstroms of fashion — 
 One's lost in adversity's sea; 
 
 One lives as a slave unto passion. 
 
 And death sets the other slave free! 
 88 
 
One dwells in a heaven of comfort, 
 
 Illumed by a diamond's bright glare — 
 The other, a servile in darkness, 
 
 The hell of her doom and despair! 
 Oh, mortal, consider your ending. 
 
 And who in God's sight is of worth — 
 At last in this world we are equal, 
 
 When mixed with the dust of the earth, 
 
 89 
 
"WHEN LOVELY WOMAN" 
 
 When lovely woman stoops and falls to shame, 
 Who seeks to know the truth about her fall ? 
 
 Upon whose heads do Christians heap the blame? 
 The cuise falls on her own, of course, that's all. 
 
 They are the first to execrate her name, 
 And mantle it in a disgraceful pall. 
 
 From love, and care, and chastity she's hurl'd 
 
 By those who keep unspotted from the world. 
 
 What of the man who caused her fall and blight? 
 
 How does the "straight-backed class" regard his act? 
 " The trifling thing, he treated her just right; 
 
 She had but little reason and less tact." 
 He, perhaps, reforms, becomes a Christian light. 
 
 And prays for scarlet sinners and souls racked. 
 The church her doors throws wide and takes him in. 
 But closes them against this "maid of sin." 
 
 90 
 
It does not weigh the villain's subtle lies, 
 His powers of passion to subdue the mind, 
 
 Nor how, with Judas' kiss, he hourly tries 
 Her love and virtue, with his lust to bind. 
 
 And if she yields, and thus sweet virtue dies, 
 Around her love the serpent is entwined, 
 
 Another life to shame but pays the debt, 
 
 And all but her live on with no regret. 
 
 Another page in life's great book is soiled ; 
 
 Another turn at fortune's wheel brings loss ; 
 Another pattern God designed, is spoiled ; 
 
 Another virtue nailed on to the cross. 
 Hope, future, fortune, peace and honor foiled, 
 
 Because man's heart is filled with lustful dross! 
 The man goes free, the woman lives in shame. 
 And dies unrecognized, without a name! 
 
 91 
 
A STRANGE FAIR LADY. 
 
 What strange fair lady is this I see, 
 
 As she goes to her work each day down town? 
 I've noticed her glancing oft times at me, 
 
 With never a smile and never a frown. 
 But her face is as fair as the delicate flower 
 That blooms unseen in some lonely bower. 
 
 Could I read in that face, so faintly fair, 
 Deep lines of sorrow, were I to know? 
 
 Is her bosom aflame with its earthly care. 
 And her life a burden beneath its woe! 
 
 Why is it, I read in that sad, sad face, 
 
 A picture of sorrow, and still of grace? 
 
 For six long years she has passed this way, 
 
 At dewy eve and at early morn, 
 And never a smile on her lips I see — 
 
 Never a smile as she looks at me. 
 
 But her downcast gaze on the pavement, cold. 
 
 Leaves a shadowy trace of a tale untold. 
 92 
 
A tale untold, like a song unsung, 
 
 Is forever dumb to the curious ear. 
 It may be aglow with a smile suppressed, 
 
 Or tinged with the glint of an unshed tear. 
 But, though from a whisper it had its start, 
 It will live eternal in somebody's heart! 
 
 And those who knew her have sighed and guessed 
 At the secret within her heart hid low^. 
 
 But sigh answered sigh, like waves on the breast 
 Of the surging sea, at the tide's inflow, 
 
 And never, I ween till the last great day, 
 
 Will the secret be known, why she's not gay. 
 
 93 
 
A WOMAN'S WORTH. 
 
 Amid the vexations and cares and strife of this busy old earth, 
 How many men do there live who prize a woman's true worth, 
 As she labors and struggles and frets and worries from year 
 
 unto year, 
 Only to earn at the last the glow of a moistening tear? 
 
 Oh, the deep pangs of her heart and the pains covered up by 
 
 a smile ! 
 Oh, the deep lines of her face that will fade in the grave 
 
 after while ! 
 Oh, the moth hectic that wastes and withers the rose on her 
 
 cheek, 
 The secrets interred in the shroud of her soul, that she will 
 
 not speak ! 
 
 94 
 
The scourge of the unwritten law established to Charity's 
 
 shame, 
 That says woman only may live by the right of her virtue 
 
 and name ! 
 Have those who established this rule of action, for her held 
 
 the light 
 And guided her faltering feet through the shadow and gloom 
 
 of the night? 
 Or will they look into their hearts' secret closet of rubish 
 
 and lust, 
 And find if this virtue of hers is not trampled down into 
 
 the dust? 
 
 Dirt and cobwebs and soot and smoke of a desolate room ! 
 Oh ! where is the light of love's torch that is left to burn out 
 
 the gloom, 
 Oh! where is the kiss of good-bye and the smile and the 
 
 kind word to cheer? 
 And where is the kiss at return that ever to woman is dear? 
 Drowned but by kiss of the bowl o'er the bar with the vulgar 
 
 and gay ! 
 A curse is the love she receives for her struggles and cares 
 
 for the day ! 
 
 95 
 
Oh ! have you thought how for love she has wasted her life 
 
 all these years ? 
 Oh ! have you heard all her prayers and measured her sighs 
 
 and her tears ? 
 As she bent o'er her suffering babes to soothe and to set 
 
 wrongs to rights. 
 Oh ! have you numbered her hours of gloom through the long 
 
 sleepless nights, 
 Or have you each day, thoughtless man, with your own 
 
 brought a new store 
 Of shadows, vexations and cares, and frowns to lay at 
 
 her door? 
 
 Oh! does she weep or rejoice o'er her own darling girl 
 
 baby's birth — 
 O'er the life it may live and lead o'er its destiny here on 
 
 earth ? 
 Does she measure its sorrow and joy and failure and strife 
 
 with her own, 
 And see through the dim, dawning years, the pitfalls dug for 
 
 it when grown? 
 And out o'er the widening years, as life's day fades into 
 
 a spark. 
 See the angels of hope speed away to hide evermore in 
 
 the dark? 
 
 96 
 
Oh man, wilt thou cherish and bless and lighten the gloom 
 
 and the trials 
 Of her who was born to grace and cheer the earth with her 
 
 smiles ? 
 Oh! wilt thou honor the most divine work of the Deity's 
 
 hand, 
 And give her an altar that's built by virtue, where she may 
 
 stand. 
 
 Wilt thou show more mercy. Oh man, and gladden the 
 
 drooping heart 
 Of her whose life and whose soul forms of thy own a part? 
 Kind words are so easily said, but they lighten the burdens 
 
 of life- 
 God knows they are heavy enough to her who is mother 
 
 and wife ! 
 
 97 
 
SPRING. 
 
 Wandering, like a saddened memory 
 
 From the silent past abysm, 
 On the silvered shores of winter, 
 
 Floats the golden spring-tide in, 
 And our hearts pulsate with rapture, 
 
 As we catch the sweet baptism 
 Of the smiling sun now glowing 
 
 O'er the city and her din. 
 
 Oh ! the glory of the springtime, 
 
 And its magical completeness. 
 As we scent the fragrant odors 
 
 From the garden and the ledge. 
 And we feel our heart-strings quiver 
 
 With the melody of thrushes. 
 Till our senses swim bewildered, 
 
 With the music of the hedge. 
 
In the flowery-ladened meadows, 
 
 Where the moss-fringed brooklets murmur, 
 We sit and drink the sweetness 
 
 Of the whip-poor-will's low strains, 
 And we sigh with joy to listen 
 
 To the tireless, tremulous twitters, 
 Floating on in rhythmic currents 
 
 Down the maple-scented lanes. 
 
 In thy heaven-lit, mystic mirror, 
 
 Lovely spring, before me glowing, 
 I behold each fragrant blossom 
 
 Of my childhood's sunny bowers — 
 Blossoms that the queenly summer 
 
 Of my life, has plucked and wasted. 
 Yet, whose shadowy beauty lingers 
 
 In thy mirror's magic powers. 
 
 99 
 
HOW SWEET TO BE FOLDED AWAY. 
 
 When the land marks of life are destroyed, 
 
 And sorrow sits grim at our gate ; 
 When the gold of our hopes is alloyed 
 
 By the dross of deception and hate ; 
 When the chancels of love are defaced, 
 
 And her wines have been cast in the fire, 
 And hope from our life-page erased, 
 
 What more has our heart to desire ? 
 
 When the rich blooming gardens of youth 
 
 Have turned into deserts of sand, 
 And friends have forsaken the truth 
 
 And raised high against us their hand ; 
 When the smiles of affection have changed 
 
 To the frown of malevolent hate, 
 And we, to all peace, are estranged. 
 
 What more can we question of fate? 
 
 When sad, are the faces we meet. 
 
 As we gaze through a curtain of tears. 
 And the names we would gladly repeat, 
 
 Alas, are unspoken for years. 
 And we sigh at each parting of day. 
 
 Like a wave that sighs back to the shore. 
 How sweet to be folded away 
 
 In the bosom of sleep evermore ! 
 
 lOO 
 
PASSION 
 
CONSTANCY. 
 
 O Love, believe so long as I 
 
 Have life and being from life-giving power, 
 This love I hold for you shall never die, 
 
 But gxowi and ever deepen, hour on hour, 
 As time, on tireless wings, flits ever by. 
 
 Not as the fading tint that gilds the flower; 
 Not as a whisper spent, nor passing sigh, 
 
 Is my true love for you. But O, as deep — 
 Deep as the deepest depth the world contains ; 
 
 And at each heart-throb even tho' I sleep, 
 Love's fire rekindles life within my veins ; 
 
 Love brings thine image for my soul to keep! 
 
 And should I pass into death's dismal shade. 
 
 And you should sit and sigh my face to see. 
 Love, I would tread the darkness unafraid. 
 
 And draw night's starry legions unto me, 
 That by their lights divine and mystic aid 
 
 You should behold my image true to thee, 
 And view the soul of love, most perfect made — 
 
 The soul's deep inner soul of Constancy! 
 
 103 
 
A VALENTINE. 
 
 Oh, blest is the lover whose love is returned 
 
 In the same divine measure it's given, 
 As the beams of the sunlight that fall in the lake 
 
 Take back all their lustre to Heaven. 
 A life without love is a vile, stagnant pool, 
 
 Whose waters but poison the air; 
 Then Emma, let love from the fount of your soul 
 
 Refreshen this heart of despair. 
 
 As the thirst-stricken doe at the river's dry bed 
 
 Imploringly looks to the skies, 
 So my heart at the stream that affection has fed, 
 
 Is a-thirst for the light of your eyes, 
 As the sunlight to day — as the stargleam to night 
 
 As the deep rolling tide to the sea, 
 Thy love is the substance, the soul of the light 
 
 Hope ever will shed upon me. 
 
 104 
 
HOW SAD IT WAS. 
 
 How sad it was from thee to part 
 
 The stricken lark but knows it — 
 The tear deep hidden in the heart, 
 
 Like the poison arrow shows it. 
 As the misty clouds of morning lift 
 
 And darkness blends with day, 
 The soul of my soul's sigh must drift, 
 
 And melt with thine away. 
 
 Before thy heart will feel the pain 
 That absence from thee brings. 
 
 Oh, love must wear the galling chain 
 And feel the adder stings ; 
 
 And day must go, and night must come— 
 The night that bringeth grief ; 
 
 And Love must dwell in darkness, dumb- 
 Poor Love, so sore a thief! 
 
 105 
 
Then doubt shall breathe a jealous spark, 
 
 To flame and burn the mind, 
 Till Hope's lone dove, from out the ark 
 
 Of passion, speeds to find 
 The olive branch of confidence. 
 
 Plucked from the flood-washed tree. 
 When from the troubled waters, dense, 
 
 May a rainbow rise for thee. 
 
 io6 
 
A LAST GOOD BYE, 
 
 Fair Enola, I have loved thee, 
 
 But the fatal fever's o*er, 
 And the strange, sweet charm that swayed me. 
 
 Ne'er will thrill my dead heart more. 
 Yet in memory's magic mirror, 
 
 All thy charms before me play. 
 And thy gentle spirit haunts me. 
 
 As the sunshine haunts the day! 
 
 Blindly loved I thee, Enola — 
 
 Loved thee as the lark, the morn ! 
 In return thy heart has cherished 
 
 My love only for thy scorn ! 
 In thy pride didst hate and spurn me. 
 
 As thine eyes and lips oft told, 
 Thou hast wooed a princely lover — 
 
 Hast betrayed my heart for gold ! 
 
 107 
 
Yet some ray of light may glimmer 
 
 O'er the love thou'st cast away, 
 And my name in memory linger 
 
 On thy lips another day — 
 Linger, as the sun at twilight 
 
 Lingers, like a parting sigh, 
 And then, dying, leaves but darkness 
 
 Over him who says, "good bye." 
 
 1 08 
 
IT IS SAID YET NOT TRUE. 
 
 It is said, yet not true, that old time will erase 
 
 From our minds, every thought of a love that is cold. 
 And the eyes will cease longing to view the fair face 
 
 Of the soul's dearest idol, when love was first told — 
 But, alas, do we find it in life to be true! 
 
 Does that love grow to hatred or perish with age! 
 No, never! No matter what course we pursue. 
 
 Like a phantom, 'twill haunt us on life's barren stage. 
 
 We may play any part that the fates may assign ; 
 
 We may wrestle with fortune or sink low in shame, 
 Still that love dream of youth, like an angel divine, 
 
 O'ershadows our lives, as the smoke from a flame, 
 We may go to the W^est, where the sun never sinks 
 
 In his night robes of darkness, away from our view; 
 We may fly to the East, yet sad memory links 
 
 Her bloom still to ours, with a chain welded new. 
 
 109 
 
We may drink, we may revel, to drive back the spell ; 
 
 We may sleep, yet the dream haunts our being the more, 
 And the form, and the face, of that one loved so well. 
 
 Stands before us, no matter on sea or on shore. 
 We may ask of our mothers some cure for such grief, 
 
 As is felt when the heart-strings are severed in twain ; 
 We may seek other friendships to find a relief — 
 
 But alas, to no purpose, all, all, is in vain. 
 
 no 
 
WHEN THE LAST TURBID TIDE. 
 
 When the last turbid tide, on the ocean of life, 
 
 Speeds my bark through the straits to Eternity's sea, 
 
 May the spirit that guides bear a torch lit with love. 
 And whisper, "God bless you, Enola," for me. 
 
 And then may the beam of each sentient orb, 
 
 Bathe thy soul with their rays ; light the path for thy feet , 
 
 And burn in thy mind, by each radiant gleam, 
 One thought of affection for me till we meet. 
 
IS KISSING AN EVIL? 
 
 When the dawn of creation was only a dream ; 
 
 When the first tiny atom began this earth's clod ; 
 When the first ray of light, through the chaos did gleam, 
 
 ' Twas the kiss from the lips of a wonderful God ! 
 When the earth, from the darkness of chaos, rolled free, 
 
 The sun kissed its cheek to verdure and bloom. 
 And the stars kissed the mountains, and valleys, and sea, 
 
 And left light's sweet kisses to burn out the gloom. 
 
 And ere there was mortal to sail on the deep, 
 
 The moon kissed its slumbering face o'er and o'er; 
 
 And the tide queen arose from her pillow of sleep, 
 
 To moist with her kisses the surf-beaten shore. 
 
 And as the creation unfolded her scroll, 
 
 From the kiss of the darkness to life and to light, 
 
 The breath of a kiss fanned the flame of a soul, 
 And he lived as a being of joy and delight. 
 
Then the kiss of deep sleep o'er his lids melted warm, 
 
 As the flowers are bathed by a summer night's mist, 
 And a soul from his soul, and a form from his form, 
 
 Were fashioned and patterned to love and be kissed ; 
 And when he awoke on the dawning of bliss, 
 
 As a bird waking sings for its mate in the grove, 
 He greeted fair Eve with a rapturous kiss, 
 
 And their heart-strings were thrilled with the transport of 
 love. 
 
 And love mated each living thing on the earth, 
 
 By the seal of a kiss — by a kiss it was done ; 
 And the music of Eden grew hushed at the birth 
 
 Of the gladness of Eve, when she kissed her first son ; 
 And the birds kissed each other and soared in the skies. 
 
 As she looked back and smiled on the sword o'er the gate, 
 Content in the light of her infant babe's eyes. 
 
 And glad of the kiss that had thus sealed her fate! 
 
 Then ask me not, maiden, if kissing is wrong. 
 
 'Tis the fragrance that steals from the heart of the flower; 
 *Tis the soul's burning current that flows in a song — 
 
 A song that floats ever through lovers lighted bower. 
 And the woman, whose lips are like cold icy eaves, 
 
 That drip ever chilly through day's dreamy mist, 
 Denies the Creator; all nature deceives. 
 
 And is worthy, alone, by the wind to be kissed ? 
 H 113 
 
TIVO VESSELS. 
 
 It was a summer morn two vessels left the shore, 
 
 Bound for a distant clime far o'er the sea. 
 The breeze was fair, the sea was calm and o'er 
 
 The world a bright sun glowed resplendantly. 
 They slowly drift together till at last 
 
 A storm is borne, the mad winds hopeless wail; 
 The waves surged high and fiercely in the blast, 
 
 The vessels drift, drift onward with the gale. 
 
 The sea grew wilder through each passing hour. 
 
 These vessels are divided in the night ; 
 The storm-tossed seamen prayed Almighty power 
 
 To guard and keep them safely in His sight. 
 That night, my God! That night upon the wave, 
 
 Those hopeful barques that drifted from the shore, 
 Full soon, alas ! had found a drifting grave — 
 
 Their requiem old ocean's sullen roar. 
 
 114 
 
Another day dawned brightly, and the sea 
 
 Grew calm and smooth and peaceful, while the sky 
 
 Was as a mirror polished bright might be. 
 Cheering the other sailors passing by. 
 
 "What shore was it they sailed from, and what sea?'* 
 Perhaps some anxious friend may ask, "And why 
 
 Were they so fated?" It was youth so free, 
 
 The sea was life. The vessels you and I. 
 
 "5 
 
OH WHERE IS THE TORCH? 
 
 Oh where is the torch that once kindled love's fire, 
 
 Since the flame in my bosom has fled? 
 Where once I adored, I now merely admire, 
 
 And regret every word I have said ! 
 I thought that I loved thee, 'twas surely a jest! 
 
 Thy heart is as cold as a stone! 
 The fact is too plain, I believe it is best. 
 
 Forever to let thee alone. 
 
 Affection of others might cling to a form. 
 
 Though a dull, pulseless statue it be, 
 But give me a heart that beats constant and warm. 
 
 Whose love has been proven to me. 
 And as a wrecked sailor clings close to a mast 
 
 Of the vessel that founders at sea, 
 So my heart will cling ever, and firm to the last 
 
 Dim ray of her love shed for me ! 
 
 ii6 
 
But the glorious angel of love, keeping guard 
 
 O'er the gate of my heart, smiles to hold 
 The key against those who deserve no reward, 
 
 And are fickle and haughty and cold. 
 For the deepest of stings that e'er tortured and burned , 
 
 To the quick, true affection's white heart, 
 Is the touch of the flame of a love unreturned. 
 
 Which burns all its heart strings apart! 
 
 117 
 
OH, TAKE MY HEART. 
 
 Oh, take my heart, since it can not be free. 
 
 I've tried in vain to hold it back from thee? 
 
 Though months have past since first you blest my sight, 
 
 You've been the dream of love's own sweet delight, 
 
 Unchanged, unaltered, since that far, fair day. 
 
 We met and you stole heart and soul away. 
 
 Could thought's deep ocean calm herself to rest, 
 And weep the barks of memory from her breast. 
 And dash them on Oblivion's rocky coast, 
 Where hope and love and all that's dear are lost, 
 Methinks some spirit o'er that nightly sea 
 Would bring your image hourly back to me. 
 
 Or were I cast upon some mystic isle. 
 Where every flower of heaven loved to smile. 
 Whose fragrance lulled the sea nymphs to repose, 
 And angels stopped to kiss each budding rose, 
 Were you not there, Enola, it would be 
 A saddened waste ; a solitude, to me. 
 
 ii8 
 
Were I transported to earth's hidden mines, 
 Where wealth untold in gorgeous splendor shines, 
 And there make choice between their splendid dyes, 
 And those I see and worship in your eyes, 
 I'd say, "O wealth, thy greatness here can fall. 
 One glance from her, outweighs thy worth in all." 
 
 Were I where Venus weaves her robes of light, 
 From threads of gold and lily leaves of white — 
 Where music, from his native rock, sets free 
 His Muse, to call the mermaids from the sea, 
 Music e'en would sadden ; Venus grow less fair, 
 Unless your smiles were given to me there! 
 
 Is this an airy of the poet's mind? 
 
 No; it is real. And all such love is blind ! 
 
 Still as the Peri, struggling against fate. 
 
 Pleads with the angel to unbar the gate, 
 
 I beg you, keep my heart since it can not be free, 
 
 I've tried in vain to hold it back from thee! 
 
 119 
 
WHEN THE HEART'S LAST EMOTION. 
 
 When the heart's last emotion of love dies with age, 
 And the spirit of passion grows cold in my breast ; 
 When the tottering mind can no longer engage 
 In the musings my soul deems most sacred and best, 
 Then, then I'll forget thee, nor wish life again 
 To live o'er the past years of pleasure and pain. 
 
 When the last draught of joy has been drained from life's 
 
 bowl, 
 And sadness about me her mantle shall fling; 
 When life grows a burden, and grief stings my soul. 
 And the phantoms of failure around me close cling, 
 Then love, I will ask thy fond spirit to cheer, 
 And make life worth living another brief year. 
 
 When the thread holding life, asunder shall part. 
 And all I have cherished drifts into the tomb ; 
 When the curdling life-wine lies still in the heart. 
 And the eye shut forever in Death's sullen gloom, 
 Then, not until then, will my thoughts from thee turn, 
 And Hope's wasting candle at last cease to burn. 
 
A SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 The din of the city we left behind, 
 
 As we drove along o'er vale and hill ; 
 Oh, it all comes sweetly back to mind, 
 
 As the ghost of memory haunts me still! 
 And I muse on the wealth of her sunlit hair, 
 
 And her cheek's red blush, and her lips like wine, 
 And her brow, like the alabaster fair. 
 
 Seemed lit with a glow that was half divine. 
 
 I can see her yet, as on that day. 
 
 The evening came, and the sunset skies 
 Grew flushed with crimson, then silvery gray. 
 
 As the dreamy shadows began to rise. 
 And the star queens lifted their veils and smiled, 
 
 Down from their burnished cars above, 
 And I lost my heart in the tangled wild 
 
 Of her dusky, dreamy eyes of love. 
 
I gathered her fruits from an orchard nook, 
 
 And flowers that bloomed by a shady hedge, 
 And I'll never forget the smiling look 
 
 She gave as I offered love's simple pledge. 
 As we passed Oak Hill we could yet decry, 
 
 Through the shadows, the statues of speechless art, 
 And I little thought as I heard her sigh. 
 
 That her soul was ruled by an icy heart. 
 
DO I LOVE YOU? 
 
 Do I love you? Ask the murmurs, pulsing from the heart 
 
 of night ; 
 Ask the stars, whose bright eyes dazzle, in the mirror of the 
 
 skies. 
 Ask the dew drop on the lily, glinting in the morning light; 
 Ask the perfume, as it rises from a rose's dreamy sighs, 
 And they'll tell you, truly, Emma, as they are to nature's 
 
 art. 
 So art thou to every fibre of my soul's most inner heart. 
 
 Do I love you ? Ask the brooklet, singing on to kiss the sea ; 
 Or the tide, that spreads her white wings o'er the ocean's 
 
 thirsty shoal ; 
 Ask the coral isles, that glisten o'er the sea's deep mystery ; 
 And the speechless shell, incasing the pearl's priceless snowy 
 
 soul, 
 And they'll tell you, ever, Emma, as they are to nature's art, 
 So art thou to every fibre of my soul's most inner heart. 
 
 123 
 
Do I love you ? Ask the bird's song, floating from the tangled 
 
 wild ; 
 Ask the notes of sweetest music ever dreamed or played or 
 
 sung; 
 Ask the soul of every cadence that e'er thrilled the heart, 
 
 and smiled ; 
 Or the sweetest, softest curfew that the evening bells e'er 
 
 rung, 
 And they'll tell you, truly, Emma, as they are to music's art, 
 So art thou to every fibre of my soul's most inner heart. 
 
 124 
 
AS WE STROLLED IN OUR SLEEP. 
 
 As we strolled in our sleep down Dream-a-way Lane, 
 How faithful and fondly, divine of mine, 
 You clung to my arm like a tender vine 
 
 Clings to the oak in sun and rain. 
 
 While Time, grinds over grain on grain, 
 The perfumed seed that makes life's wine 
 Sweeter than odors of muscadine. 
 
 Love, then we heard the soft refrain 
 
 That the night-wren sings when the Muses dine. 
 
 And we saw a star from her dizzy height 
 
 Fall from her car in a suicide ; 
 And her life dripped out in drops of light 
 
 That colored the feet of the ocean's tide ; 
 And the moon seemed frightened with her flight. 
 
 As she pulled the clouds o'er her face to hide, 
 And darker grew the veil of night. 
 
 While the sea-gulls shrieked and the night-owls cried. 
 
 125 
 
Then love, a-quiet about us grew, 
 
 As noiseless as four-o'clocks close their lips, 
 When day comes down, and daylight drips 
 
 Over the edges of night, like brew 
 
 Drips from a goblet ; or like the dew, 
 
 Drips from the bud, where the humming-bird sips. 
 
 Till tipsy from fragrance it never knew, 
 It flies to its mate, and in love's eclipse, 
 
 They love to satiety all day through. 
 
 And we saw the rarest of flowers in bloom 
 
 Inviting the butterfly and the bee ; 
 But where Sweetness dwelled, there was just room 
 
 For a tiny glance, from you and me, 
 "As she dozed in a lady-slipper, free 
 From aught that would cast a shade of gloom, 
 
 Or shorten her life's sweet minstrelsy. 
 
 126 
 
ON THE WORLD. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Why are you here, fair Magdalene^ 
 In this detested mart of shame? 
 
 Though many others here are seen, 
 Why thus debauch an honored name ? 
 
 Your beauty, and your guileless face. 
 
 Look pitiful in such a place. 
 
 I read some secret in your eyes. 
 
 That you would from me proudly hide- 
 
 A message deep within them lies, 
 That tells me Virtue has not died. 
 
 I fancy, as I meet your gaze. 
 
 Your life has known far happier days. 
 
 .2^ 
 
SHE. 
 
 My unknown friend, you reason well. 
 
 With breaking heart, I bear my shame ; 
 It only maddens me to tell 
 
 How once I bore a virtuous name ; 
 Was in my home its pride and light, 
 But now its sorrow, and its blight. 
 
 Sometimes deceptive smiles will play ; 
 
 On brow, and lip a light will glow. 
 To those who stare, I'm blithe and gay. 
 
 While every heart-throb fills with woe. 
 This I must bear, the fault's my own. 
 Blame lies with me, and me alone. 
 
 Why do I thus to you make known, 
 The thing I am or what I've been.!^ 
 
 Can you, a man, forgive and own 
 That you regret a woman's sin? 
 
 No, no, you'll likelier paint my crime, 
 
 In darkest tints for future time. 
 
 12S 
 
HE. 
 
 Fair girl, think not the stain so deep 
 That you may not forgiveness win, 
 
 For man must make his conscience sleep, 
 Ere he e'en names your act of sin. 
 
 I leave such work for fools and knaves ; 
 
 Let sentence come from Him who saves. 
 
 SHE. 
 
 If thus you think, Pd truly tell, 
 
 The truth to one who'll sympathize ; 
 
 For I was tempted, and I fell. 
 
 But oh, good sir, you'll not despise 
 
 The woman who is thus disgraced, 
 
 When you her dreary life have traced. 
 
 In early girlhood's happy hours. 
 When life and love so truly seemed 
 
 A happy path through beds of flowers, 
 A lover's eyes upon me beamed. 
 
 Him will I cherish through the years ; 
 
 He gave me love — and shame, and tears. 
 
 129 
 
I met him when my heart was young, 
 Unschooled to grief, unknown to care; 
 
 Ere it was by love's torture stung, 
 And all to me was sweet and fair. 
 
 I met him, and my love I gave ; 
 
 Became his passion's helpless slavG. 
 
 Full six long years have come and gone, 
 Since first I vowed to be his bride. 
 
 My life, my love, my all he won, 
 And then it was sweet Virtue died. 
 
 It was his pleading, from me stole 
 
 That priceless treasure of my soul. 
 
 I care not what my past may seem, 
 I am a slave to love betrayed ; 
 
 And Love will lead, as in a dream, 
 The will into some yielding shade 
 
 Where all save love is lost, and yet, 
 
 While losing all, we lose regret. 
 
 130 
 
Are any without crime or care, 
 
 From youth until life's race is run? 
 
 Such ills and faults, we women share ; 
 We must have darkness with our sun, 
 
 To make our lives a perfect day. 
 
 And so we drag the years away. 
 
 'Fool's Paradise," it may be called, 
 
 If passion's words and looks are Heaven. 
 
 I found it so, and stood appalled, 
 
 When first I learned what love had given. 
 
 My father knew it next and he — 
 
 He was the first who censured me. 
 
 A father, pitied least of all. 
 
 And drove me madly from his gate. 
 
 That father, angered at my fall, 
 
 Thus helped me to this crimson fate — 
 
 His curse has doomed me to this life. 
 
 Who should have been an honored wife. 
 
 131 
 
He fiercely drove me from his door, 
 Pronouncing evil on my name: 
 "Leave me and show your face no more! 
 Go from my sight and hide your shame! 
 No mawkish sentiment I'll waste, 
 The act is yours, be you disgraced !" 
 
 I prayed to God that I might die, 
 As outward from my home I went, 
 
 For who felt more accursed than I? 
 An outcast, hopeless, penitent, 
 
 Of love, of home, of friends bereft, 
 
 And naught save shame and sorrow left. 
 
 I felt my bark of life was wrecked 
 On sad Misfortune's jagged reef; 
 
 With that bright future we expect, 
 Deep darkened in a night of grief, 
 
 And I e'er tossed on life's rough wave, 
 
 With none to rescue, none to save. 
 
 132 
 
Were mother living that sad day, 
 A shelter I would have at home ; 
 
 A mother could not cast away — 
 
 Her child should not dishonored roam. 
 
 Were she alive, life's storms I'd brave; 
 
 Her love and sympathy would save. 
 
 Ah! she would redirect the act 
 A rash impetuous father did. 
 
 Her prayers would cause him to retract, 
 And steep his eye's most stony lid 
 
 In soft'ning tears, that he might see 
 
 The wrong to which he's driven me. 
 
 My lover? Well, I only know 
 
 He took my heart and went away ; 
 
 He came no more to me, but oh ; 
 I do not think he meant to stay. 
 
 But when I ponder on his fate. 
 
 My heart seems like a leaden weight. 
 
 133 
 
Well I recall that fearful night, 
 
 When Lesley went down in the sea ! 
 
 The lightnings glared along the height 
 Of Heaven's blackened canopy ; 
 
 The ocean roared, the thunders rolled, 
 
 While deep toned bells on life buoys tolled. 
 
 Nor can I e'er forget my dream, 
 
 I saw him shivering in the gale ; 
 I saw his wild eyes, frightened, gleam. 
 
 While clinging to a flapping sail ; 
 His night robes loosely 'round him blown, 
 He feared, yet braved his death unknown. 
 
 His brow was pale, and 'round it blew 
 
 His drenched locks, wet with salt sea spray. 
 
 I heard him pray that God might do 
 Good things for me some future day. 
 
 O'erwhelmed at last, beneath the wave. 
 
 He sank, and found a sailor's grave. 
 
 134 
 
I woke in fear, with nerves unstrung; 
 
 My mind was like a wilderness, 
 Dreary, and waste ; my bosom wrung 
 
 Still deeper with its sore distress. 
 The night fled back from morning's beam, 
 Yet gloom seemed tangled in each gleam, 
 
 I never passed such hours of dread ; 
 
 Walked to and fro, but all was vain. 
 The dream to me was riveted — 
 
 Linked to my soul as by a chain. 
 Anon I saw the stormy coast ; 
 Anon, was haunted by his ghost! 
 
 What.^ You would like to see his child.? 
 
 Well, look into his sunny face — 
 The sweetest face that ever smiled 
 
 Upon this earth with heavenly grace ; 
 And yet. his mother's love and pride 
 Must cast him, ever, from her side. 
 
 I3S 
 
Yes, yes, kind sir, it must be done. 
 
 Oh, God! the pangs that tear my breast, 
 That I must drive away my son, 
 
 And yet I know that it is best. 
 In time he'll know his father's name. 
 But must not know his mother's shame. 
 
 To every drooping thing on earth 
 Is mercy shown save us, alone ; 
 
 The sparrow, without seeming worth. 
 The tenderest loving care is shown ; 
 
 Each woe and care a tear will claim. 
 
 Except where woman soils her name. 
 
 Yes, but for honor's sense alone, 
 I would be loathe from him to part. 
 
 The human breast can not be stone. 
 For if it could it would not smart; 
 
 For honor's sake our hearts must cry, 
 
 And feel remorse until we die. 
 
 136 
 
And — pardon me, sir, I can see 
 
 The same soft love-light in your eyes 
 
 I saw in his. Speak, can it be, 
 
 Or is my poor heart breathing lies? 
 
 Yes! yes! thank God! it's gladly true — 
 
 The sea gives back my love — and you. 
 
 HE. 
 
 True, sweet Loretta, I am he, 
 
 Who made your true heart bleed and break. 
 No matter what the end may be, 
 
 I'll wed you now for love's sweet sake. 
 The fault was mine, by my neglect 
 I was your sad fate's architect. 
 
 137 
 
LABOR. 
 
THE VOICE OF LABOR. 
 
 From the mine and from the factory, from the field the cry 
 
 is heard : 
 "On to freedom, on to justice, on and on!'* We hear the 
 
 word, 
 Rolling, like the pulsing current of a never ending sea. 
 On to justice, on to freedom, man shall have his liberty! 
 And the voice of right, once echoed, never can be stilled to 
 
 rest, 
 'Till the social ban is lifted and the toiler's wrongs redressed. 
 
 No longer men are silent, trudging on in mute despair. 
 Making no complaint or murmur, of the galling yoke they 
 
 wear. 
 But the voice of protest deepens, as the cycling ages roll, 
 And their liturgies of sorrow dirge-like sway the saddened 
 
 soul. 
 As the tide that sweeps the bosom of the deep and darksome 
 
 sea. 
 So shall Justice sweep Oppression till humanity is free! 
 
 141 
 
Brave minstrel of a free-born race, thy harp is now unstrung. 
 Else why do millions live and die unhonored and unsung? 
 The threads which hold existence, seem to part as by a flame , 
 And the shades that pall their death-couch, are of poverty 
 
 and shame! 
 But thy harp's sweet chords will vibrate once more, in our 
 
 lovely land. 
 When thy form's unbent, uncrippled, and less calloused is 
 
 thy hand. 
 
 Melodies, as sweet to freedom as the strains from Heaven's 
 
 choir, 
 Flowing from the heart of feeling, kindled by the soul's own 
 
 fire ; 
 Melodies, to live forever, echoed by the air and light, 
 And enchant the drowsy moonbeams, as they wander through 
 
 the night ; 
 Melodies, to rock the forests and make drunk the soul of 
 
 dawn. 
 As when the walls of Thebes rose to smile on Amphion ! 
 
 142 
 
Shame! Oh, shame to this great people that they do not 
 
 know their power, 
 But the horologe of ages soon will register the hour 
 When the dawn of truth and reason will dispel the shades, 
 
 that blind 
 The stream of thought, that rushes from the chaos of the 
 
 mind. 
 Then, with bronzed and haggard visage, those who've borne 
 
 their task sublime, 
 In the battle march of progress, o'er the battlements of time, 
 Will look back and sigh with pity at the skeleton of Wrong 
 That once drove and bound a people with his lash and golden 
 
 thong. 
 
 Right and Justice then will triumph, and the people will not 
 
 grope 
 In the labyrinth of turmoil, stripped of all in life save hope, 
 And the weary surf-worn exile, driven from his native shore, 
 Will not in Columbia's vineyard meet the tyrant at his door. 
 For this goodly land wnll slumber, wrapped in Nature's 
 
 choicest law. 
 And each heart, congealed to feeling, in the light of reason 
 
 thaw. 
 
 H3 
 
Then man's social rank and standard will not be the dollar's 
 stamp, 
 
 Nor will labor's stencil brand him as an abject slave or 
 tramp ; 
 
 And the blood that swells his life-tide will not be the Brit- 
 ton's blue, 
 
 But America's untainted, loyal, brave, and warm and true. 
 
 Oh, God! turn thy face in sorrow, witness not the laborer 
 
 spurned 
 From the doors of gilded mansions his own calloused hands 
 
 have earned — 
 He, who has by years of struggle laid the giant forests waste. 
 Garnishing the hills with cereals and with fruits of sweetest 
 
 taste ; 
 Who has builded splendid cities and has wrested from the 
 
 hills. 
 Precious metals, now corroding, unused in the banker's tills! 
 
 Friendship, Oh, thou white winged angel! Wilt thou hover 
 
 o'er our lands, 
 Place two souls in one strong body, and unite the toilers' 
 
 hands? 
 Let them read the blood-stained parchment, that was written 
 
 in the past. 
 
 When the manacles of slavery bound and held the negro fast ! 
 
 144 
 
Then, as men endowed with reason, close the pages they 
 
 have read, 
 And revere our noble heroes who now slumber with the dead ; 
 And on this great nation's altar take an oath, that never more 
 Shall our history's page be blotted by war's hands and 
 
 streams of gore ! 
 Dare we say, in this grand issue, that we have a North and 
 
 South ? 
 No! From the great lakes of th' Northland, to the Missis- 
 sippi's mouth. 
 Every toiler feels the iron heel of monopoly and wrong. 
 And their spirits blend together in the shout of freedom's 
 
 song. 
 O'er the chasm is suspended brotherhood's great bridge of 
 
 right, 
 And its girder's are of muscle and its piers are hearts of 
 
 might ! 
 And beneath it lie the cannon, and the muffled drum at rest, 
 That have made the earth to tremble, thrilling every warrior's 
 
 breast. 
 Let us leave them there, brave toilers, slumbering ever in 
 
 the mould. 
 Wreathed alone by saddened memories of a cruelty untold. 
 
 H5 
 
AN APPEAL TO PATRIOTISM, 
 
 Back through the mist of sorrow-laden years, 
 
 Which sleep in darkness, stained by blood and tears, 
 
 My vision lingers o'er the ruins vast — 
 
 The once proud glory of the ages past ; 
 
 And mourns the loss, because Oppression's hand 
 
 Strove to enslave the free and take their land. 
 
 Do we forget that we were born the same 
 As our forefathers, who, by dint and name, 
 Proved to the world by their New England birth, 
 That they were men of valor and of worth ; 
 And that no despot e'er should rule a son 
 At Bunker Hill, Concord and Lexington? 
 
 As men of learning and by wisdom taught. 
 Shall we forget our land so dearly bought? 
 A land, which while in infancy, uprose 
 The power of tyrants sternly to oppose, 
 Believing justice should be given all, 
 As that declared at Independence Hall. 
 
 146 
 
For Freedom's cause did not a Hancock grace 
 And Adams prove a Father to his race? 
 Did not a Henry snatch the tyrant's veil 
 To see his iron features twitch and pale, 
 And Jefferson, with giant mind make plain 
 The cause of Justice free from blot or stain. 
 
 Are we to love the country of our birth. 
 
 Robbed of our prided heritage to earth, 
 
 Or love a land where lords proscribe and rule. 
 
 Or laugh man's sacred rights to ridicule, 
 
 Allowing class to legislate, secure. 
 
 To class alone and leave the millions poor? 
 
 Think of the isle where Roger Williams knelt 
 
 To pray for mercy and for justice felt 
 
 Within the hearts of men, and call 
 
 For life and liberty to one and all. 
 
 May that proud island sink within the sea. 
 
 Than have it said her men are not all free! 
 
 Gaze on the scaffold, where the martyr smiled 
 To give his life for freedom, while the wild, 
 Untrammeled sunlight bore his soul away 
 Into eternal rest. Oh, glorious day! 
 That dawned o'er Harper's Ferry, and unfurled 
 The scroll of John Brown's life to all the world. 
 147 
 
Are we to love the flag that Fremont bore 
 O'er desert sands to reach the Western shore? 
 The same that Jackson, pride of North and South, 
 Waved o'er the foe at Mississippi's mouth? 
 Yes, that dear flag is still our flag to-day. 
 Once loved by Webster, Lafayette and Clay. 
 
 Yet let its folds, from out oppression's night, 
 
 Unfurl the stars of justice and of right ; 
 
 Let every toiler on the land and sea 
 
 Clasp hands to keep this emblem of the free ; 
 
 Nor let its folds be trailed within the dust, 
 
 While freedom triumphs and "In God we trust." 
 
 We scan the history and learn this truth — 
 That all the wars since first the country's youth 
 Have been brought on by stern oppression's curse, 
 Slavery and wrong, grim violence and force, 
 Until the people, desperate for right 
 Rose up to triumph in their pride of might. 
 
 My fellow brother, which shall be the end — 
 The sword? Or shall intelligence befriend? 
 Shall we resort to war's destructive plan. 
 When honest ballots will the right to man? 
 Shall reason argue with each human mind. 
 Or shall we live and die as serviles blind? 
 
Oh, glorious land, the birth-place of the free. 
 
 Long hidden from the gaze of tyranny! 
 
 Must I resign my freedom at thy door, 
 
 With millions flocking here from every shore. 
 
 Who come serf-scourged, and still as serfs must slave, 
 
 And give all else, save hope beyond the grave? 
 
 Shall this Republic, with her wealth untold. 
 Fall as the Roman Empire did of old. 
 Because patrician glory stood so high 
 And plebians were doomed to do or die ? 
 Or shall we check the moneyed Neros now 
 And ask for rights to him who holds the plough? 
 
 Review again our history's darkened page. 
 
 Within the past, it has not been an age 
 
 Since Sumpter woke, by dread and sullen roar, 
 
 Each patriot son who loved his native shore. 
 
 And war's red hand smote mountain, field and glen, 
 
 Destroying peace and millions of our men. 
 
 Awake, Oh patriot spirits from the gloom ! 
 
 And breathe a flame as breathes the hot simoom. 
 
 That will destroy each flagrant, selfish aim 
 
 In all the earth ; and may the tyrant tame 
 
 His fiendish thirst for life and land and gold ; 
 
 And mankind dwell at peace in nature's fold. 
 149 
 
THE WANDERER. 
 
 Give me drink ! No, do not curse me — do not ask if it be 
 
 right, 
 But obey my prayer, barkeeper, let me quench my thirst 
 
 to-night ! 
 Let me quell that thirst which maddens, yes, which fevers 
 
 heart and brain, 
 Grant it, Oh, for God's sake grant it! Let it drown this 
 
 sting of pain. 
 Just one goblet, give it to me, and though serpents in it 
 
 dwell, 
 It were sweet, and I will quaff it, though they bind my soul 
 
 in hell. 
 For its fiery kiss is sweeter than the fountain streams of youth, 
 And its lying lips more welcome than the lips of love and 
 
 truth. 
 I'm a tramp? Well, yes, a tramp, sir, but don't let that 
 
 stay your hand. 
 For there are five hundred thousand like myself in this fair 
 
 land! 
 And you must remember one thing — evil springs alone from 
 
 cause. 
 And that cause is quite apparent in our social statute laws. 
 
 150 
 
Circumstances make the standard we should measure all 
 
 men by, 
 And society will lower, or will elevate most high. 
 Man's a creature of conditions and environment. 'Tis true 
 I'm a tramp, but not by option — labor is what I'd pursue. 
 May God bless you for this drink, sir, it's an antidote for ills ; 
 It will drive back that Nemesis that now burns the soul and 
 
 kills; 
 It will curb the recollections of my sad eventful years. 
 And will dry my eyes from weeping disappointment's bitter 
 
 tears. 
 Think, sir, what I've had to combat, since a lad about half 
 
 grown. 
 Father lost his life in battle leaving ma and me alone: 
 And from that day on to this time — and it may be to the 
 
 grave — 
 I have known, and no doubt will know nothing else than be 
 
 a slave. 
 Not so much the slave of drudging, as a slave to blasted hopes, 
 By that cursed fate which follows and forever near me gropes. 
 
 151 
 
We were dwelling in a city beautified with domes and spires, 
 Where ten thousand happy families peacefully enjoyed their 
 
 fires ; 
 And throughout that lovely valley, peace and fortune seemed 
 
 to reign, 
 Until high-wrought desolation turned loose his destructive 
 
 train. 
 Fact is, that some thoughtless people, for their own sweet 
 
 pleasure's sake, 
 Dammed a stream, far up the valley, turning it into a lake, 
 Where its giant waters slumbered, as an evil force asleep; 
 Watched and waited like a tiger, crouching for his deadly 
 
 leap. 
 Hark! Great God! I hear those waters as they madly rushed 
 
 that day 
 Down the Conamaugh river valley, sweeping Johnstown 
 
 quite away ; 
 And I see that fearless horseman, and I hear his warning cry, 
 As destruction sped behind him: " Flee for refuge ! Flee 
 
 or die ! ' ' 
 
 :52 
 
And Iseethosesteepled buildings, reeling, topplingtoand fro ; 
 And I hear them clash together as the knights of long ago ; 
 And I hear the shrieks of women, and I hear the prayers 
 
 of men. 
 But there was no hand to rescue from the watery, deathly den ! 
 Give me drink! Oh give me liquor! for I can not bear the 
 
 thought ; 
 Let me blast the recollection of the havoc it has wrought! 
 For on that day in my cottage dwelt the ones I loved the best — 
 She, the angel of my life, sir, with a young babe at herbreast , 
 And my old and feeble mother — Oh, my God, how could it be 
 That the hand of fate decreed, sir, that they should be swept 
 
 from me ? 
 
 Do you blame me then for drinking? There's a fate for 
 
 every man, 
 And toblastmy joys and pleasures seems a part of Satan's plan. 
 But this is not all the story. After that eventful day, 
 With my hopes and prospects wasted, do you think I there 
 
 could stay, 
 Where the ghost of that fair angel, and the babe upon her 
 
 breast. 
 Would come back to me each moment, till I found no peace 
 
 and rest? 
 
 153 
 
No! So then I went to Homestead, where a man his man- 
 hood breaks, 
 
 And declares himself a servile for the pittance that he takes. 
 
 You have read about the strikes there ; you have learned the 
 facts, no doubt. 
 
 Of how their rights were trampled on, and the working men 
 locked out. 
 
 And the Pinkertons were hired, like dogs to shoot them down, 
 
 Until Homestead seemed a Hell, sir, by the riot in the town. 
 
 Of those toilers I was one, sir, who was locked out in the 
 strike, 
 
 Which now makes me tramp the country, something that I 
 do not like. 
 
 But I'd rather tramp a free man, than to toil a rich man's 
 slave. 
 
 And forever kiss a lord's foot, and then fill a pauper's grave ! 
 
 154 
 
IN CHAINS. 
 
 I had a dream, a troubled dream, that made my bosom smart — 
 A vision, weighted down by chains, came in and touched my 
 
 heart ; 
 My blood seemed cold, my lips grew dumb, my eyes could 
 
 only stare. 
 And leer enchanted in the light of her eyes and g^olden hair. 
 The chains were not of that dusky hue, that clanks at the 
 
 felon's feet. 
 Or galls the wrists of the souls depraved, that we see along 
 
 the street, 
 But heavy and bright they glowed, with light like the fabled 
 
 fleece of old. 
 Were they naoulded, and folded, and welded there — those 
 
 binding chains of gold ? 
 
 155 
 
At length my lips, no longer dumb, grew bold enough to 
 
 speak: 
 "Who art thou, child of night or day? And what is it ye 
 
 seek ? 
 What spectre comes at this late hour to trouble thus my sleep, 
 And what can be thy mission from the dark lethean deep? 
 Hast thou escaped from Heaven's gate to seek release on 
 
 earth,' 
 Or have the fiends of Hades chained thy form with all this 
 
 worth ? 
 Art thou Aladdin's ghost disguised, some secret to impart? 
 Speak, spirit, speak, and let the blood once more warm up 
 
 my heart!" 
 
 " Fear not," the apparition said, "you know me not I see, 
 But I'm the goddess of your land, the Goddess Liberty. 
 I am no cad of Darkness, but a messenger of Light, 
 And it is sad that I now wear this livery of night. 
 The great red Dragon, known as Gold, has bound me thus 
 
 in chains. 
 And smirched my whitened robes of power in black, dis- 
 graceful stains. 
 The wreath that angels gave me to wear upon my brow. 
 This Dragon imp has snatched away and it is wasted now. 
 
 [56 
 
" Greed has no care for Freedom's flowers, but with a prided 
 
 lust, 
 With iron heel he tramples them into the mire and dust. 
 Behold my empty calloused hand that jewels once impearled 
 And held the torch of Liberty enlightening the world. 
 My star-infusing hope and joy are hid in clouds of shame. 
 That I no longer guide earth's hosts to glorious deeds of fame 
 But Oh, brave Knight, it is God's will that I should share 
 
 this fate 
 A season only, as I watch by Truth's eternal gate. 
 
 " No power can take from me the scale by Love and Justice 
 
 given. 
 In which I weigh man's rights and wrongs now registered in 
 
 Heaven. 
 Full many a saber scar 's been hacked upon their golden beams, 
 As I weighed out the blood of wars and great reformer's 
 
 dreams. 
 The tears and cries of hopeless men, and anguish manifold, 
 Are borne against the oppressor's wand, and heaps of rust- 
 ing gold. 
 To God's great time-lock, I alone possess the magic key, 
 And when the hour arrives, then will I set all nations free. 
 
 157 
 
" The treasures hid in Mammon's vault shall not enslave the 
 
 land 
 So long as I, a goddess reign, with this key in my hand. 
 The cursed alchemists too long have ruled this goodly earth, 
 Decreeing social rank and file by high and lowly birth. 
 At gold's polluted shrine they've stood pretending Christian 
 
 grace, 
 To mock and spit upon a Christ who died to save His race. 
 They've clad their forms in purple and imbibed their wine 
 
 at ease, 
 While men, to live, have knelt to them and slaved on bended 
 
 knees ! 
 
 "But soon the segment of their power will fall, and my elect 
 Who have created all the wealth will rise and stand erect. 
 As God designed that they should stand as from His hand 
 
 they came, 
 Ere lord or knave or factory boss laid on them lash or claim. 
 On Time's prophetic dial I see the shadow moving on, 
 And soon his clock with waking din shall strike the gladden- 
 ing dawn ; 
 Then will my star of freedom shine on once more, like the sun 
 Shone o'er the hosts that fought and bled with Stark and 
 Washington. 
 
 158 
 
The standard bearer of the age with Freedom's flag unfurled 
 Will bring back on the wings of flame my torch to light the 
 
 world. 
 And that red Dragon born of Hell, in these cursed chains 
 
 shall die, 
 And I may prove Bartholdi's gift no monumental lie. 
 The lily and the olive wreath again I'll wear with pride. 
 And on Colurtibia's shore no more my rights will be denied. 
 The British Lion, for his prey, shall tread our shores no more, 
 Nor eagles, into vultures turned, guard by the rich man's 
 
 door. 
 
 No more shall chartered crime prevail against the rights of 
 
 men. 
 Nor babes, of sorrowing mothers, die in Famine's horrid den. 
 Hope's candles then shall not burn out in Disappointment's 
 
 gloom, 
 And leave a race to grope unheard within a living tomb. 
 The slave Prometheus shall rise, freed from his chains, 
 
 and slay 
 The vulture Greed that's feasted on his liver day by day! 
 
 159 
 
LABOR DAY. 
 
 From East to West, from North to South ; 
 
 O'er rivers, lakes and seas. 
 Let shouts ring out from mouth to mouth, 
 
 Fling banners to the breeze ! 
 Let factory slaves again be men, 
 
 And show the world the way 
 To liberate itself again — 
 
 Turn out for Labor Day! 
 
 Brave artisans from shop and soil, 
 
 Lay all your cares aside ; 
 Come swell the ranks of honest toil, 
 
 And view your works with pride. 
 The palaces of brick and stone, 
 
 And all of structural worth, 
 Your calloused hands, and yours alone, 
 
 Have builded on the earth. 
 
 i6o 
 
The farmer comes from furrowed field ; 
 
 The smith from forge of fire ; 
 The miner's face to light revealed, 
 
 Comes lit with stern desire; 
 The cooper from his hoop and stave ; 
 
 The potter from his clay — 
 These men were never born to slave 
 
 On this great Labor Day ! 
 
 They've seen the products of their hands 
 
 Heaped into Plenty's lap; 
 They've slept while vampires of the lands 
 
 Did their rich life-blood sap. 
 But chainless, they awaken now, 
 
 To grasp their flag unfurled, 
 And like true men, no longer bow 
 
 To despots of the world ! 
 
 Throw down your tools like men of might, 
 And let your worth be known. 
 
 And show those lords you have the right 
 To reap what you have sown ; 
 
 That God created all men free, 
 A truth none dare gainsay — 
 
 Hallowed by Him from sea to sea 
 
 To celebrate this dav! 
 K i6i' 
 
What if the autocrat should sneer 
 
 At honest labor's hand? 
 He knows that should it rest a year 
 
 'Twould bankrupt all the land! 
 Aye, rest ten days from all its toil, 
 
 What would the mocker's see? 
 No cars would speed across the soil, 
 
 No ships would sail the sea! 
 
 No messenger from foreign shores 
 
 Would wear an inky dress ; 
 No factories stand with open doors, 
 
 And hushed would be the press. 
 No royal ladies of the day, 
 
 Would doff their silks and pearls, 
 And at the wash-tub kneel and pray 
 
 Once more for servant girls. 
 
 ' God save the King " — His grace would come 
 
 From his high throne to greet 
 His equal — a poor toiler dumb — 
 
 And kiss his calloused feet! 
 The glare of gold would fade away, 
 
 And men would own the might 
 
 That rests with toil on Labor Day — 
 
 The awful might of right! 
 162 
 
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