' o 
 
 
 *>*+ 
 
 v»o v 
 
 5^, 
 
 V" *!, # °* ^ A? .••^w> V V ••••* ^ A? 
 
 >•. * a 6L ^ „ • «P^ a^ ^^M^" c-o. A. * a 6*^ >. • *Pj. a^ 
 
 
 ^''.W/ V'^^'A* %^/ ^< 
 
 1". ^o V^ 
 ,V % il*** >x a0 v 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/versesbywaysideOOdera 
 
VERSES BY THE 
 WAYSIDE 
 
 BY 
 
 EDNA SMITH-DeRAN 
 
 BOSTON 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 (Eifp (Borham Prraa 
 I907 
 
Copyright, I 907, by Edna Stnith-DeRan 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 luilRAflY of CONGRESS J 
 
 (Two Ooates ft;w9lv*j 
 NOV D 130/- 
 . CenyrteW Ertry I 
 
 GLAS3 /I KXC, fid. I 
 
 \ 
 
 <\ 
 
 T/z*' Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 
 
TO 
 MY FATHER 
 
 AND 
 MY MOTHER 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This collection of verse is put in print only for 
 the sake of those to whom this book is dedicated, 
 otherwise I should have waited till my mentalities 
 were more mature ere I allowed my productions 
 to enter the literary arena. If he, who cannot 
 read them (for my father gave his sight for our 
 country in its hour of peril), and she, whose mother 
 love has always been mine in hours of discourage- 
 ments, are pleased I am satisfied. If there is 
 aught in this initial effort that may give pleasure 
 to others, I shall be gratified. 
 
 Edna Smith-DeRan 
 
" Not failure but low aim is crime." 
 
 " Do what thy manhood bids thee do, 
 From none but self expect applause, 
 He noblest lives and noblest dies 
 Who makes and keeps his self-made laws. 
 All other life is living death, 
 A world where none but phantoms dwell, 
 A breath, a wind, a sound, a voice, 
 A tinkling of the camel-bell. " 
 
 '.V. • 
 
 f JVo life can be pure in its purpose and strong in its 
 strife 
 And all life not be purer and stronger thereby. " 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Give Joy II 
 
 Resurrected Hope 12 
 
 The Night Winds Moan 14 
 
 Bitter Thoughts 15 
 
 Life's Lesson 16 
 
 Thoughts Have Wings 16 
 
 Spring 18 
 
 The Outcast 19 
 
 In Memoriam 21 
 
 A Reply 23 
 
 Sorrow ........ 25 
 
 Faith 27 
 
 Waiting 28 
 
 Life ... .... 30 
 
 What is Sorrow 31 
 
 Life's Music 33 
 
 Solitude 35 
 
 House Cleaning 37 
 
 'T is the Month of May 37 
 
 A Child's Birth 38 
 
 The Highway of Life 39 
 
 Question 41 
 
 If You Were I 41 
 
 Weary 42 
 
 You 44 
 
 My Father 45 
 
 Is it Worth While 45 
 
Contents 
 
 Going 46 
 
 The Lesson of the Leaves 46 
 
 Night 48 
 
 Autumn 48 
 
 Love's Life is Short 50 
 
 Days of the Past 50 
 
 Dream in Autumn ... ... 51 
 
 A Heart Cry 57 
 
 Nature and Life 60 
 
 Eight and Fifty 61 
 
 Love too Late 62 
 
 The Clock Ticks Loud 63 
 
 Rebekah Memorial 64 
 
 Mercenary Link ... ... 65 
 
 Thine 66 
 
 Love's Memorial 68 
 
 To 69 
 
 Cupid's Mission 70 
 
 A Woman's Wail 71 
 
 Faith 73 
 
 In Kalamazoo Cemetery 74 
 
 In Memoriam, W. W. Ross .... 75 
 
 A Calm Sea 76 
 
 A Life Longing 78 
 
 The Need of the World 79 
 
 Lines to 80 
 
 Don t Cry 8 1 
 
 To a Friend in Chicago 82 
 
Contents 
 
 One Woman's Repentance ... 83 
 
 Our Soldiers Dead 85 
 
 Teach My Daughter I am Dead ... 86 
 
 A Boy's Recitation 87 
 
 Hon. Mathias Brown . ... 88 
 
 Nellie Lee's Answer 90 
 
 An Ideal Home 9 1 
 
 Once Blind 93 
 
 " Oh, I Loves You, 'Deed I Do" ... 93 
 
 ToKaty 94 
 
 An Answer 95 
 
 To Mrs. W 96 
 
 To Mrs. A 97 
 
 In Grandma' s Attic 99 
 
 My Song 1 00 
 
 Julia 101 
 
 A Midnight Vigil 102 
 
 The Man in the Mansion . . . .103 
 
 Thoughts of the Past 104 
 
 He KnowethBest 105 
 
 Reverie 1 06 
 
 The Lover's Return 107 
 
 A Class Poem 108 
 
 Mother Love HO 
 
 To a Friend, Mrs. S . . . .112 
 
 A Farewell 1 13 
 
 Twilight Reverie 1 14 
 
 The Angel's Prayer Iir 
 
Contents 
 
 Drifted Apart Il6 
 
 To the Blind Il8 
 
 Our Flag 120 
 
 Sometime 121 
 
 Crazy Uintah of the Rockies .... 122 
 
 Alone 123 
 
 A Springtime Day 124 
 
 My Babe 124 
 
 Why Grieve 125 
 
 The Patter of Baby's Feet . . . .126 
 
 The Bridge 127 
 
 Brotherhood 129 
 
 Finis 132 
 
GIVE JOY 
 
 If you know a thought that's pleasant, 
 
 Tell it; tell it to the world; 
 
 For if kept it betters no one, 
 
 And we need good thoughts to grow on. 
 
 Worded thoughts may brighten, 
 
 Spoken thoughts may lighten 
 
 Heavy burdens for the weary earth. 
 
 Then speak out; reveal your pleasure; 
 
 Share with all, conceal no treasure 
 
 Of the mind, but tell, oh, tell your mirth. 
 
 If you know a song of beauty, 
 
 Sing it; sing it for mankind. 
 
 Let the tones ring loud and joyous, 
 
 'Tis but discords that annoy us, 
 
 Cheerful songs are pleasant; 
 
 Grief is always present 
 
 To be stiffled, crushed by mirth and song. 
 
 Make thy songs for sorrow healing, 
 
 Tho' thy grief thou art concealing, 
 
 Then thy sorrow cannot linger long. 
 
 Can you give a smile, a handgrasp, 
 
 That will cheer us on our way ? 
 
 Can you lighten some one's sorrow ? 
 
 Can you some one's burden borrow ? 
 
 Borrow it to bury; 
 
 Give instead words merry. 
 
 Let the world share of your joy and love. 
 
 Give the best that is within you; 
 
 Let but truth and virtue win you; 
 
 Then this world will be akin to heaven above. 
 
 II 
 
RESURRECTED HOPE 
 
 Yes, I have loved, but love proved false; 
 Not even / could hold my power, 
 Or bind that love to me till death, 
 Altho' I tried. One fatal hour 
 
 A serpent, clothed in garments gay, 
 Crept to my throne and left its sting; 
 And love, at first rebellious, paused, 
 And seeing, hungered; then took wing. 
 
 For one brief period it was mine; 
 And I, rejoicing in my right, 
 Knew not that it could tempted be 
 While mine, until I learned its flight. 
 
 And so, one dark and dismal morn, 
 Life's loneliness crept over me; 
 And, in my grief, I looked around 
 For other happy homes, to see 
 
 What secret I had failed to learn; 
 What faults; since I had failed to hold 
 That thing called love, of which I dreamed 
 Would last, because of pleadings bold. 
 
 I sought and searched; but other hearts 
 I found, like mine, were seeking, too, 
 And living empty, loveless lives, 
 And drinking not of balm, but rue. 
 
 12 
 
And so I dropped my quest of love, 
 That gleamed so golden in youth's morn, ■ 
 In merry, joyous, thoughtless youth 
 When pleasures breed and hopes are born. 
 
 But when one false, fair face can lead 
 Love's step astray from pastures pure, 
 We realize how fragile, frail, 
 Love is, since wanton wiles allure. 
 
 The poet knew who said of love : 
 'Tis " music, song, regret, and tears "; 
 When true the heart sings out its joy; 
 When false the soul moans out its fears. 
 
 And I ? Well, having loved and lost, 
 And moaned my sorrow, ere I flung 
 The worthless carcass from my heart, 
 My lyre, in reborn hope, I strung. 
 
 Once more my heart beat full of hope; 
 And youth's ambition, not quite dead, 
 Nor crushed entirely from my heart, 
 (My weaker love when I was wed,) 
 
 Once more, I say, those hopes dared rise, 
 And rising, bold, assert their sway; 
 And I, obeying their demand, 
 Breathe forth these fancies here to-day t 
 
 Henceforth for me a wider field 
 Than man alone; and if I sing 
 One humble song to cheer the heart, 
 If courage, joy, my lines shall bring 
 
 l 3 
 
To other hearts, or e'en perchance, 
 To one sad soul among the throng, 
 I shall not deem my sorrow vain; 
 Shall not regret I sang the song. 
 
 But should some minor strains creep in, 
 Some lines be sad, oh, reader, say: 
 " This author, too, like us, has wept, 
 But conquered grief, as we all may. " 
 
 THE NIGHT WINDS MOAN 
 
 When the earth is draped in darkness 
 In the " weesma' " hours of night, 
 And the clouds with flitting fancy 
 Steal from earth the moonbeams light, 
 And we lie and toss and tumble 
 With a peevish, restless groan, 
 Then we hear the night winds mock us 
 As they moan and moan and moan. 
 
 Then we listen to their wailing 
 Like the sobbing of a child, — 
 First in tones far off and feeble, 
 Then in accents fierce and wild, 
 And the clouds go flitting, fleeing, 
 Silent, while the nightwinds groan. 
 Till the moon bursts from its hiding; 
 But those winds still moan and moan. 
 
 But at last the morn in dawning; 
 Now the dark is turning gray, 
 
 *4 
 
 
And the gray to sunshine growing; 
 
 And the night winds fear to stay; 
 
 Now the scampering clouds are scattering, 
 
 Till the very last has flown; 
 
 And no more we hear the night winds 
 
 As they moan and moan and moan. 
 
 O BITTER THOUGHTS, DON'T GO 
 
 Birds have wings to fly at will 
 O'er boundless land and sea; 
 To soar 'midst azure heights above, 
 Or on the earth to be. 
 
 We have words that go at will 
 To seek some person's heart 
 And pleasure, comfort, solace give, 
 Or cruel wounds impart. 
 
 We can stay our tongue, nor say 
 The thoughts that are within; 
 For words once said we can't recall, 
 Can't bring them back again. 
 
 Thoughts have wings and flee afar, 
 Ere we can say them nay; 
 Then speed away, oh, lovely thought, 
 But bitter ones, oh, stay, 
 
 That we may crush thee in our heart 
 So better thoughts can grow 
 And fill our minds, then sail away. 
 Oh, bitter thoughts, don't go. 
 
 *5 
 
LIFE'S LESSON 
 
 In the golden glow of the dawning day, 
 When the earth is bathed by the morning dew, 
 And the heart beats fast with a newborn hope, 
 Of a home and a love that is ever true, — 
 
 In the joy of morn, and the birth of love, 
 We decern no gloom, neither doubt nor fear 
 Lest the hours to come, and the love now true, 
 Shall be dimmed by clouds, or love's life be drear. 
 
 In the graying gloom of our life's e'entide, 
 When the joys and griefs of our life are done, 
 Then our thoughts still cling to those days long past, 
 And in mind retread that long race now run. 
 
 And with aged eyes do we wisely see 
 
 That life's burdens fall 'midst its joys so vast 
 
 But to strengthen us, if we falter not, 
 
 And a well-won crown we may wear at last. 
 
 THOUGHTS HAVE WINGS 
 
 To Mr. L , of Chicago 
 
 In thought do I come to thee, darling, to-night, 
 While night winds are sobbing and stars hide their 
 
 Hght; 
 While joy-laden hearts are at peace and asleep, 
 But tear-burdened eyes slumber not whilst they 
 
 weep. 
 
 16 
 
In thought do I see thee alone and apart 
 
 From Life's merry throng; and I see the tears start 
 
 As some secret monitor whispers my name. 
 
 Love! was it we or was Fate but to blame 
 
 That two lives, united, be rendered in twain 
 And each, being severed, have freedom again ? 
 And freedom for what ? Perchance to mismate, 
 Once more in Life's lottery trifle with fate; 
 
 Or each live alone, and alone wend our way 
 Through Life's dreary desert, each night and each 
 
 day; 
 With no one to cherish, or help make a home, — 
 God pity us both if 'tis thus we must roam. 
 
 And so in the quiet of this midnight hour 
 
 1 come to thee, love, (for God giveth that power), 
 On wings of the night wind; my soul seeketh thine 
 In session most secret; thy heart meets with mine. 
 
 Once more in our thoughts do we live o'er the past, 
 And down furrowed faces are tears falling fast. 
 O day-dream delusions! O castles of youth! 
 How quickly dispelled. Father Time brings the 
 truth. 
 
 The life we two dreamed of, can never it be ? 
 
 Let's bring back those day-dreams and fantasies 
 
 free, 
 And break the steel chain of the cold present now, 
 And say o'er again that once falsely said vow. 
 
 l 7 
 
The starlight is dimming; the dawn's early rays 
 Are lighting thy face as in fancy I gaze. 
 I leave thee. Thou knowest this vigil I kept. 
 And when the morn comes we will know both have 
 wept. 
 
 SPRING 
 
 The treetops sway in balmy breezes; 
 The dead weeds change to tendrils green; 
 The dews from heaven make the flowers 
 A beauteous sight to all, I ween. 
 
 The birds sing in the budding silence, 
 And Nature's heart seems all aglow; 
 The fruit trees standing in the sunlight, 
 Their blossoms pink and white as snow. 
 
 The lambs are dancing o'er the meadow 
 With naught to fear, in youthful glee. 
 The mother hen clucks to her babies; 
 The calves are running gay and free. 
 
 The clods of earth hold naught that's dreary; 
 The humble worm creeps forth to light. 
 The heart of man beats fast in gladness; 
 His step is quick, his eyes are bright. 
 
 Oh, gladsome time, when God and Nature 
 Give joy and peace for you and me. 
 Oh, glorious time, when winter coldness 
 Has given place to fancies free. 
 
 18 
 
And may all lives be like the springtime, 
 All hearts be filled with joy and love; 
 Our motto " Onward," ever upward, 
 With peace on earth to joy above. 
 
 For soon the spring fades into summer, 
 And emerald green gives way to gold; 
 The springtime blossoms, white and fragrant, 
 In juicy fruits will Nature mould. 
 
 And as the seasons blend together, 
 With rain and sunshine in them all 
 (For each brings sadness, all give gladness), 
 E'en so this change must come to all. 
 
 Our days are bright but soon come sorrows, 
 And in our lives their sadness bring. 
 But, blessed thought, just after winter 
 Will come the joy, will come the spring. 
 
 THE OUTCAST 
 
 I've wandered through mud and through mire in 
 
 the streets, 
 I've wandered in sorrow and sin. 
 My steps have been wayward, my life has been wild, 
 My clothes are all ragged and thin. 
 
 I was once a fair, gay, and virtuous child; 
 I knelt at a good mother's knee. 
 Thank God she knows not my suffering and sin, 
 Thank God from that sorrow she's free. 
 
 *9 
 
He came in my life with his false, loving words, 
 He won me ere long as his bride; 
 He swore at the altar that he would be true 
 And love her who stood at his side. 
 
 But soon he was tired of the toy he had won; 
 He struggled for freedom and fame; 
 He left me alone while he roamed o'er the world; 
 A wife was I only in name. 
 
 For months did I live with my sorrow and grief; 
 I craved only love from my own; 
 I wept in my loneliness, moaned in despair; 
 No hell could have been worse than my home. 
 
 He scoffed at me, cursed me, and left me in tears, 
 While he lived a life of content; 
 So, one dreary morning, I packed all my clothes 
 And out in the wide world I went. 
 
 But God made a woman with heart craving love, 
 And I longed for love's sweet caress. 
 But I had no parents or kindred or home, 
 To shelter me in my distress. 
 
 I roamed o'er the world caring not where I went. 
 You wonder I strayed into sin ? 
 When woman asks love from a husband in vain, 
 The hell holes are wide to go in. 
 
 When woman asks naught but a kind word of love 
 Of a husband to whom she gave all, 
 Asks bread, gets a stone, for a kiss gets a curse, 
 Hell's gate opens wide for her fall. 
 
 20 
 
But no devil's den has its doors so well made 
 God's love cannot enter therein. 
 And so, in His mercy, He came unto me, — 
 To me, child of sorrow and sin. 
 
 1 Though sins be as scarlet, I'll make them like 
 
 snow," 
 Was meant for poor sinners like me. 
 " More joy o'er one sinner that comes in the fold," 
 That sinner, O Christ, let me be. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM FOR A PET DOG 
 June 5, 1903. 
 
 Dust thou wert, to dust returnest; 
 So I sit here sad, at home. 
 Bitter tears for thee are falling; 
 Still for thee my heart is calling; 
 But alas! I am alone. 
 
 Rains are beating all around thee, 
 Down upon thy bed of earth. 
 While thy form is slow decaying 
 Down my cheeks the tears are straying, 
 And for me there is no mirth. 
 
 Thou, who ever wast so happy 
 In thy home with me and mine; 
 Not a sorrow didst thou cherish. 
 Now can it be that thou must perish ? 
 Is there not a heaven of thine ? 
 
 21 
 
Thou wast e'er my dear companion, 
 E'er a constant, faithful friend. 
 None can guess how great my sorrow. 
 Lone I sit each day and morrow 
 Naught to me doth comfort lend. 
 
 I would not, dear Dick, forget thee, 
 Though remembrance brings me pain. 
 O'er thy grave shall be love's token, 
 As in life love's words were spoken, 
 Words thou ne'er wilt hear again. 
 
 Roses rare shall bloom above thee, 
 Lilies lend their fragrance free. 
 Not alone my hands shall tend them 
 But all those thou loved shall lend them 
 Care, that flowers shall bloom o'er thee. 
 
 And perchance, as each pure petal 
 Waves above thy silent form, 
 When the winds are softly blowing 
 And the fragrant flowers growing, 
 It may be thou'lt know we mourn. 
 
 From the acorn springs the oaktree, 
 From the seeds the cornfields green; 
 Death is nothing but a changing, 
 Nothing but God's rules arranging 
 For the good of all things seen. 
 
 So thy spirit must be living, 
 Though thy form is still and cold 
 And cannot respond to calling, 
 
 22 
 
Though my tears are slowly falling, 
 And my sorrow I have told. 
 
 So thy precious little body 
 
 We shall gently put to rest, 
 
 That no rough hand may come near it, 
 
 And if thou dost have a spirit 
 
 God will do for thee the best. 
 
 Dust thou wert to dust returnest. 
 And some day, dear Dick, shall I 
 Be laid low, by earth enfolded, 
 And like thou, to dust be moulded; 
 For we all, some day, must die. 
 
 In thy bed that's rose embowered 
 We now leave thee to thy rest, 
 And continue life's sad keeping, 
 Life with all its joys and weeping, 
 Knowing all is for the best. 
 
 A REPLY 
 
 You ask of me, did I forget 
 The days that once we thought so dear. 
 Ah, love, it sadly grieves me now 
 That in thy heart should be one fear 
 Lest I, 'midst new and binding ties, 
 Remember not. 
 
 A wife am I and also thou; 
 And yet that severed not our tie; 
 And still another, sweeter bond 
 
 23 
 
Hath come to both; for you and I 
 
 Have kissed sweet, childish lips. To both 
 
 Came motherhood. 
 
 Alike have we each lived our lives 
 Apart, and yet, in love, still one. 
 Our thoughts for each as firm and true 
 As when our friendship first begun. 
 The years now passed since " long ago" 
 Have been our test. 
 
 And glad am I that sorrow great 
 Has furrowed not thy brow so fair; 
 Nor hath much sadness come to me. 
 The silver strands that in my hair 
 Thou seest came from Time's own touch, 
 And not from grief. 
 
 'Twas in those olden days, dear friend, 
 I set my love in rhythm for thee. 
 To-day I read those simple lines 
 I wrote when thou and I were free, 
 And not a care to come between; 
 But now we're bound. 
 
 And so, my friend, tho' oft thy heart 
 Hath called to me and I came not, 
 Yet still my thoughts have been of thee. 
 My love to thee has gone unsought 
 Each day. Has not some unseen elf 
 Told thee my thoughts ? 
 
 24 
 
Let thine own heart be judge for thee 
 When thou must ask, has she forgot ? 
 Thou knowest well my love is thine; 
 Cast off all fears, distrust me not. 
 Thy friend I'll be till death do part; 
 Till death, dear friend. 
 
 SORROW 
 
 Have you sought for success and met failure ? 
 Has life seemed a burden of care ? 
 Have you almost lost faith in God's promise ? 
 Vain words seem the burden of prayer ? 
 
 Do you long for true love and affection, 
 Yet sit by your fireside alone ? 
 And does some little mound in the churchyard 
 Claim all that you once thought your own ? 
 
 Have you learned that grim death and affliction 
 Must come in the life of each one ? 
 And that sorrow and much disappointment 
 Is met with ere life's race be run ? 
 
 Have you learned to laugh lightly when happy ? 
 Then learn to laugh still when in tears; 
 It is hard, none save God knows the effort 
 When days seem like long weary years. 
 
 But among life's great heroes, are people 
 Who laugh at life's burdens nor fret; 
 And they smile in the face of Fate's frowning; 
 Whose lives are not one long regret. 
 
 25 
 
And therefore, dear friends, e'er remember 
 As you grieve o'er some sadness, forlorn, 
 That each sorrow that comes in our pathway 
 Will have its twin Joy. Both were born. 
 
 It is not hand in hand they will greet us, 
 For joy, youthful joy travels fast; 
 And behind lags the twin, slow, but planning 
 To greet us as she marches past. 
 
 If with trials some days you're o'erflowing, 
 And sorrow seems breaking the heart, 
 Remember each night has its morning, 
 And Time's silent shades will depart. 
 
 There's naught that comes to us that's worthless; 
 Life's joys and its griefs are not vain. 
 But each one is a step in God's progress. 
 Then take up your burden again. 
 
 Bear bravely the trials that o'ertake you; 
 Know 'tis for your good they are given; 
 So be patient and trusting and loving, 
 Each day stepping upward to heaven. 
 
 The steps may be steep and you, weary, 
 May feel that the effort is vain; 
 Do not grieve, but toil upward, rejoicing 
 You need not climb those steps again. 
 
 Each step that we climb in life's pathway, 
 Each victory we win 'gainst the wrong, 
 And each sorrow we meet with and conquer, 
 Are making us daily grow strong. 
 
 26 
 
It is best that this world has its sorrow, 
 That all must weep some bitter tears; 
 For the mingling of joy and of sadness 
 Brings wisdom that comes but with years. 
 
 It is best that each rose has its beauty, 
 Yet, hidden in perfume, its sting; 
 'Tis the victories we gain with great effort 
 The greatest reward always bring. 
 
 It is easy to smile when you're happy, 
 To fall not when there is no sin; 
 Both temptation and sorrow are test signs; 
 And life's truest heroes will win. 
 
 FAITH 
 
 Sometime, somewhere, we'll meet again 
 And say farewell to parting pain; 
 Though it may be that months, or years, 
 Will intervene. Perhaps sad tears 
 May bathe thy cheeks or dampen mine. 
 Yet this I know, we'll meet again. 
 
 Sometime. Perhaps thy tresses brown 
 May then be silvered, dear, by years; 
 The sparkle in thy eyes so bright 
 May then be dimmed by time's fast flight 
 (For age e'er fades the glow of youth) 
 Or dulled by sorrow's bitter tears. 
 
 27 
 
Thy form may loose its stately height, 
 And slow and feeble be thy gait; 
 But what of that ? It matters not 
 If 'tis the same true heart I sought. 
 What care we, dear, for time's own touch 
 If hearts be true. With faith I wait. 
 
 Somewhere, — the place is naught to me, 
 When once again my love I greet. 
 E'en tho' no beauty should be there 
 Thou'lt lend the place a charm most rare. 
 (What charm more sweet than love that's true.) 
 Somewhere, beloved, I know we'll meet. 
 
 Sometime, somewhere. Believe, sweetheart. 
 Lift up thine eyes; thy fear is vain. 
 God's love all round for you and me 
 Has never failed. Then why should we 
 Doubt love that He allowed be born ? 
 Sometime, somewhere, we'll meet again. 
 
 WAITING 
 
 Every Thursday as the mailman 
 Brings his budget to the door, 
 Can be seen a fair young maiden 
 Saying to the postman laden, 
 " Is there not for me one more ?" 
 
 Sad her story. I'll relate it. 
 
 She had met a lover true 
 
 Who had pledged her fond affection, 
 
 Yet their love escaped detection, 
 
 And their troth was known by few. 
 
 28 
 
But at last he said : " I'll leave you 
 And to foreign lands will start; 
 There I'll win great wealth and power 
 Then will come the happy hour 
 I can marry you, sweetheart." 
 
 So he started o'er the ocean 
 
 With a hopeful heart, yet sad; 
 
 Of the treacherous waves not dreaming 
 
 But of her, whose eyes were beaming 
 
 With the hope of love she had; 
 
 In fond fancy saw her standing 
 On the deck to say farewell. 
 As he felt the tears drop slowly 
 O'er his face, his head bent lowly 
 On the rail, where teardrops fell. 
 
 Soon he heard a great commotion 
 And the boat seemed rolling wild. 
 Overboard the waves were rushing; 
 Men and women, frantic, crushing, 
 Fearing waters, once so mild. 
 
 Then he rushed in vain endeavor 
 To the deck that he might aid. 
 But, as he had sat there dreaming 
 Of his love, so hopeful seeming, 
 He was doomed, by death waylaid. 
 
 Soon a mighty crash resounded, 
 Naught to help them, or to save. 
 From the crew were moans and shrieking; 
 
 20 
 
In the boat wild waters leaking, 
 And for all a wat'ry grave. 
 
 But no words can tell the horror 
 Of that death scene, sad yet short. 
 None survived to tell the story, 
 How the waves were wild with fury, 
 None to tell the fair sweetheart. 
 
 So, alone she worked and waited 
 For her love who never came. 
 Waited, while her health was ailing 
 And her mind was slowly failing, 
 With her questions e'er the same. 
 
 Thus it was she always questioned 
 Of a letter from her love. 
 But her eyes are dim with weeping 
 O'er a faithful vigil keeping, 
 Watched by angels from above. 
 
 LIFE 
 
 Life is not a dreary desert, 
 
 Not a bleak and barren waste, 
 
 But a forest green and growing 
 
 To the one who goes through knowing, 
 
 Seeking, what it is we taste. 
 
 If we keep our eyes cast downward 
 We can see the thorns and weeds; 
 We can feel each brier and bramble, 
 
 30 
 
At each scratch can moan and tremble 
 Like a thief caught at his deeds. 
 
 But if we will seek a pathway 
 That leads out through verdant bowers, 
 Where the lofty trees are swaying, 
 And the winds 'midst branches playing, 
 We can find a path of flowers. 
 
 Turn thee henceward; see hope gleaming; 
 Pause not once to grieve or wait; 
 Let ambition guide thee onward, 
 Not temptation drag thee downward, 
 Tho' sin shows a gilded gate. 
 
 Life has pathways that are pleasant; 
 Look beyond thee and around; 
 Let no secret sin, nor sorrow, 
 Find thee on its track to-morrow; 
 Seek the path where joys abound, 
 
 Yet where virtue holds its kingdom, 
 (The path that leads to heaven above). 
 Come not weeping; best come singing 
 And but hope and good thoughts bringing; 
 Then thou'lt find the path of love. 
 
 WHAT IS SORROW 
 
 You ask me what is sorrow, dear, 
 Alas! that I should tell; 
 Yet, in the days now past and gone, 
 My bitter tears oft fell. 
 
 31 
 
And yet, dear heart, I long have known 
 It is a friend disguised; 
 Although it takes us years to learn 
 Why sorrow was devised. 
 
 It is to have your mother near 
 
 And feel her dying breath, 
 
 To hear her say, " God bless you, dear, 
 
 Then kiss her lips in death. 
 
 To know that she, your dearest friend, 
 Can give you no caress; 
 Can answer not your words of love; 
 Ah ! this is sorrow, yes. 
 
 To marry one you thought most true, 
 And love the one you win; 
 But learn a fairer face he seeks 
 That leads him into sin. 
 
 Then when you sit alone and weep, 
 While she laughs at his jest, 
 You need not ask what sorrow is, 
 For then you know by test. 
 
 It is to guard your children's steps 
 And be a parent kind; 
 And yet, in after years, to fear 
 A drunkard's grave they'll find. 
 
 32 
 
To feel your care has been in vain; 
 And hope dies in your heart; 
 With none to comfort or sustain, 
 Alone you bear your part. 
 
 Each one of these is sorrow, dear. 
 
 It oft takes years to show 
 
 Such trials give strength, if bravely borne. 
 
 They come to all, you know. 
 
 When sorrow silvers your dark hair, 
 Your form is bowed by age, 
 You would not turn grief's cup away, 
 Or tear out sorrow's page. 
 
 Each trial we bear has its reward; 
 Each grief, a hero's test. 
 The one who wears the brightest crown 
 Is he who bore grief best. 
 
 LIFE'S MUSIC 
 
 In life's fair fitful morn, we first 
 Sing joyous strains, in tones most sweet; 
 No minor melody is ours, 
 But joy and hope and love we greet. 
 
 Our nimble fingers play with ease 
 Each note. Each chord, a hope new born, 
 Rings loud and clear beneath our touch, 
 In life's fair, hopeful, happy morn. 
 
 33 
 
A parent's love attunes our hearts 
 And turns not sorrow's sadder page. 
 The dirges come in later life. 
 The postlude comes, but comes with age. 
 
 In anxious haste we turn the page 
 
 To newer notes, yet knowing not 
 
 That, at the end, we fain would choose 
 
 The first bright strains that we were taught. 
 
 Our life seems one long dream of love; 
 The music's page a sweet refrain 
 O'er which we linger lovingly, 
 And beg to play that part again. 
 
 A master's hand slow turns the page, 
 And lo ! the time and key have turned 
 To minor, with its low, sad chords. 
 The grief of life our soul has learned. 
 
 We play the part adagio, 
 While on our hands the teardrops fall, 
 And youth and hope and love seem gone, 
 We weakly ask where are they all. 
 
 We pause to see if hands more skilled 
 Will take our place that we might rest, 
 Or search for strains of joyous vein; 
 But fate refuses our request. 
 
 A master's kindly voice says, " No, 
 No artist he who falters now; 
 No hero he who fails the test; 
 No laurel decks the coward's brow. 
 
 34 
 
" Each one must play what he began. " 
 And so we take our work again, 
 'Mid blinding tears we see the notes 
 And play the end of life's sad strain. 
 
 And when the tones triumphant end, 
 And life's concerto is all done, 
 And on our brow the laurel wreath 
 That we have gladly, nobly won, 
 
 The master takes our weary hands 
 In his own kindly, gentle grasp, 
 And gladly, proudly says: " Well done, 
 Dear heart, well done has been thy task. 
 
 " Thou knowest what I knew so well, — 
 That minor must be played by all, 
 E'er we can know what major means, 
 Tho' it has gone beyond recall. 
 
 " In life's sweet strains we all must learn 
 The two most fitly, wisely blend; 
 And he who plays both parts with care, 
 Is glad for both when comes the end. " 
 
 SOLITUDE 
 
 When love is not, and life is lone, 
 What joy can wealth give to a heart 
 That asks affection, pure and kind, 
 And in true love would heaven find; 
 For home and love dwell not apart. 
 
 35 
 
A house, a place where people dwell, 
 Although a home it may not be; 
 A house is oft a mansion fine, 
 With gilded pictures, jewels, wine, 
 And all that's fair and fine to see 
 
 Save love. And so, 'tis not a home, 
 Tho' oft miscalled by that sweet name, 
 For love must be the binding link. 
 Does love once gone, return, you think, 
 The same pure love, the same ? 
 
 Oh, that each heart that weeps and waits 
 For love that's flown, could know this true; 
 Could feel assured of heaven once more, 
 Ere life's great conflict is all o'er, 
 A heaven of love that once it knew. 
 
 Across the way the boys and girls 
 Dance joyfully, with laughter free 
 From grief and fear. While I, alas! 
 Sit in my house while hours pass, 
 For time is heeded not by me. 
 
 'Tis not the gloss of gold I want. 
 What joy to me the wealth I own ? 
 But love from those that should be near, 
 And whom I always loved most dear, 
 To cheer me as I sit alone. 
 
 In happy homes where love abounds, 
 Warm household fires are sparkling bright; 
 But not one ray of light is mine, 
 Although I've jewels rare and fine; 
 For I'm alone each day and night. 
 
 36 
 
HOUSE CLEANING 
 
 In the midst of house cleaning are we, 
 Hence no letter from me will you see. 
 There is dust in each corner and crack 
 From the cellar to attic and back, 
 And the moth and the mice and the rust 
 Form a fast-working union with dust. 
 
 So I go with my mop and my brush, 
 
 While my husband says: " Oh, what a rush! 
 
 From the dust and the soapsuds and noise 
 
 I will go. I will lunch with the boys. 
 
 When your house cleaning's over please 'phone, 
 
 And I'll come to my once happy home. " 
 
 So he skips while I mop and I rub, 
 I beat carpets, wash woodwork and scrub, 
 Sew the curtains, wash windows and walls, 
 Tramp through kitchen and parlor and halls. 
 'Tis no wonder Jack left, for he knows 
 There's no end to the house cleaning woes. 
 
 TIS THE MONTH OF MAY 
 
 The daffodils and daisies white 
 Wave gently in the warm sunlight. 
 The growing leaves of emerald hue 
 Are sparkling yet with morning dew. 
 
 The green grass grows beneath our feet; 
 The birds with songs all nature greet. 
 
 37 
 
The growing flowers burst their buds; 
 The lily to the violet nods. 
 
 The buttercups tint fields with gold; 
 All springtime beauties now unfold. 
 The air is full, of scent and sound; 
 There's life and love and joy all round. 
 
 The birds and brooklets seem to say: — 
 "Rejoice. Be glad. Tis May. Tis May. 
 Let songs and sunshine fill each heart. 
 And dark despair and gloom depart. 
 
 " The grief of life should not last long; 
 The gloom of winter all has gone, 
 And given place to beauty bright. 
 Then why let grief shut out thy light ? 
 
 " Why fear and fret when nature gives 
 Its best to thee, of all that lives ? 
 Yield not to gloom. Like us be gay. 
 Make all thy life one happy May. " 
 
 A CHILD'S BIRTH 
 
 Within a mother's arms was placed 
 A blue-eyed babe one day, 
 A life to make or mar was given, 
 And she must guide its way. 
 
 O task divine! O mother blessed! 
 Let not one fault of thine 
 
 38 
 
Transform that mind of purity 
 That's made by love divine 
 
 And on that brow so white and pure, 
 Where angel kisses fell, 
 And in that heart, O mother, watch 
 That demons dare not dwell. 
 
 'Tis God alone can know the thoughts 
 That rule that infant mind, 
 What impulse moves its every act, 
 Of cruel deeds, or kind; 
 
 What to the world its life shall give 
 Of sorrow or of mirth; 
 'Tis He alone can truly tell 
 The issues of its birth. 
 
 To thee is given to guide and guard 
 Its life, true, loving, pure; 
 Then watch thy work, O mother, well; 
 Thy teachings shall endure. 
 
 THE HIGHWAY OF LIFE 
 
 The highways and byways are blooming and bright; 
 Earth's roses are blowing o'er dale and o'er dell; 
 Their perfumes are carried on wings of the wind; 
 Each blossom is opening, each budlet will swell. 
 
 But soon comes the season when earth will be brown, 
 Each flower will fade and each petal will fall, 
 
 39 
 
For God made no season to last the year round, 
 But each hath its glory and beauty for all. 
 
 The highway of life can be blooming and bright 
 If we will but nourish love's roses so sweet; 
 If we will but scatter kind words and sweet smiles, 
 Thus brightening the pathway for many tired feet. 
 
 Alas! On some highways are trampled and torn 
 The blossoms that might have been blooming so fair 
 Had selfishness, envy, deceit, and distrust. 
 Been thwarted, not nourished and given most care, 
 
 Thus crowding and crushing out tenderer plants 
 Whose seeds God hath sown in each young childish 
 
 heart. 
 E'en weeds hath their blossoms and beauty therein, 
 If we will but seek for the beauty apart, 
 
 And no life so saddened but still hath some joy 
 If we will but shut from our minds all the grief, 
 And share with the world the few blessings we have; 
 Those pleasures will grow, to thy heart give relief. 
 
 Then seek for the sunshine that blossoms may bloom 
 And brighten thy pathway that others might see, 
 And seeing, do likewise. Were each pathway dark 
 A dreary and desolate world this would be. 
 
 We make of this life what we wish, you and I, 
 
 It rests with each one to make his own road bright, 
 
 To give of his gloom, or to share of his joy, 
 
 And each full of sunshine, the whole will be right. 
 
 40 
 
Breathe blessings of brightness; give no room for 
 
 grief; 
 Leave self to thy Maker; make others thy care; 
 Make not of life's highway a barren waste brown, 
 But give of love's roses, rich, radiant, and rare. 
 
 QUESTION 
 
 When the heart is aching for kindness 
 And the lips are wanting a kiss, 
 And the empty hands waiting a pressure 
 Of true love that daily you miss, 
 Is it wrong, tho' bound to another, 
 Whose heart is colder than snow, 
 Is it wrong to accept the caresses 
 Of a friend who grieves for you so ? 
 
 IF YOU WERE I 
 
 If you were I, you would not need 
 To sit with pen and think and scratch ; 
 You would not burn the midnight oil 
 And toil such simple rhymes to hatch. 
 
 If you were I you would not sit 
 At home alone, with time-worn books, 
 Or leave companions blithe and gay 
 To search among historic nooks. 
 
 If I were you, and your wealth mine, 
 With artist's brush and author's pen 
 
 41 
 
Fd roam the wide world far and near 
 And treasure rich bring to my den. 
 
 If I were you, what would I care 
 For women's wiles and men's light talk, 
 When I could roam o'er nature bright, 
 Through woods and wilds could gaily walk. 
 
 If you were I and I were you, — 
 But this, alas, can never be; 
 So you must do what you think right, 
 And I, what seems the best for me. 
 
 WEARY 
 
 I am so tired; from life's battles would rest; 
 Tired of the conflict that daily we wage; 
 Tired of the path that I trod, slow and lone; 
 Tired of life's lessons I read page by page. 
 
 What tho' the path of life leads up to fame ? 
 Life might be sweet could Fame come to us now; 
 Fame comes with death, during life 'tis refused; 
 What tho' the laurel shall deck my dead brow ? 
 
 Death means no mem'ry of misery here born; 
 Life's greed and gain do we leave far behind; 
 Cold, cruel critics of life hurt no more; 
 Death is a friend, for to all death is kind. 
 
 Then in our cold, clammy hands will be flowers; 
 Over our bier words of praise we hear not; 
 Tears of sweet tenderness then will be shed; 
 Tenderness that in life's battles we sought. 
 
 42 
 
Kisses and flowers in life might mean much; 
 But they mean naught to a cold icy brow; 
 Why need it be that this love shows so late ? 
 Could not those kind words be given us now ? 
 
 When we are worn with life's trials and tears 
 Then is when friendship is valued most dear; 
 Words of true sympathy banish the gloom; 
 Yet 'tis the harsh cunning sneers that we hear. 
 
 Weary, not falt'ring, my tired, wayworn feet; 
 Soon to the world will I be but a name; 
 Death is but rest, and to me rest is sweet; 
 Shadows of night fell ere morning joys came. 
 
 Burdens are heavy for one heart to bear; 
 God's hand is leading, and yet sad my soul; 
 Bitter the cup that I pressed to my lips; 
 Patiently quaffed I the contents, the whole. 
 
 Hours are passing; I plod on alone. 
 Fainting, not falt'ring, I go to life's end; 
 Willing to give up the burden long borne; 
 Weary and waiting, my tears and smiles blend. 
 
 Place o'er my grave neither flowers nor tears. 
 Give to the living of flowers the best. 
 When all has ended and life's journey done, 
 Write on my tombstone but this : " She's at rest. " 
 
 43 
 
YOU 
 
 The night draws nigh; then I am free; 
 Altho' you know to him I'm true; 
 Yet when the earth is still in sleep 
 My thoughts, sweet friend, are e'er of you. 
 
 In dreams I see you at my side 
 While for my love again you sue; 
 Though all my heart and kisses, dear, 
 In dreams, I've always saved for you. 
 
 And, when from joyous sleep I wake 
 To greet the one I love so true, 
 The bitter tears fall fast and thick, 
 For, dear, 'tis he, I wanted you. 
 
 The rains are beating all around; 
 I hear naught save the night wind moan; 
 My heart throbs sadly for, sweetheart, 
 I wanted you, yet I'm alone. 
 
 We twain, 'dear love, could not be one, 
 Yet I, in secret, have been true; 
 And when this weary life be o'er, 
 In heaven, my love, I'll meet with you. 
 
 44 
 
MY FATHER 
 
 Alone thou goest. 
 
 No guiding hand to lead thy steps, 
 
 As on thy darkened way thou'lt go 
 
 To where — oh, whither ? Dost thou know ? 
 
 Will fate protect thee from all harm ? 
 
 Alone art thou. 
 
 Yet not alone, my father dear, 
 My love goes with thee all the way, 
 And every step of thine, I pray, 
 May lead thee safely back to me. 
 
 In God I trust, 
 
 That He'll protect thy wand'ring steps. 
 For He hath taken from thee light 
 And made thy life one long, long night. 
 Yet He, a God of Love, will lead. 
 
 IS IT WORTH WHILE 
 
 Is it worth while the strife we make, 
 To win a rich man's crown ? 
 Shall these few fleeting years of life 
 Be lived but for renown ? 
 
 Is it worth while since life is short 
 To live it all in vain, 
 Deny ourselves all joy and rest 
 For wealth that we would gain ? 
 
 45 
 
We know not what the future is, 
 
 So make our heaven now; 
 
 Love wealth but for the good it brings, 
 
 And not to Mammon bow. 
 
 GOING 
 
 Going. Alas! and must thou leave us? 
 Couldst thou not tarry here 
 Where friends and kind companions 
 Would fill thy life with cheer ? 
 
 Going. Could not our friendship please thee 
 That thou must roam away ? 
 Thinkst thou to gain new friendships 
 Since thou wilt go and stay ? 
 
 Gone. Each day, dear friend, we'll miss thee, 
 And vacant be thy chair. 
 Since thou must go, " God bless thee, 
 Shall be our farewell prayer. , 
 
 u 
 
 THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES 
 
 " O father, help gather the leaves, ,, 
 My little ones pleaded with me; 
 I could not refuse their request, 
 So joined in their innocent glee. 
 " O father, not two are alike, 
 We know, for we've hunted to find 
 Twelve similar ones for our room, 
 But cannot find two the same kind. " 
 
 4 6 
 
" Perchance to your limited sight 
 All vary, my children, in hue; 
 And yet, if you seek, you will find 
 Resemblance most striking and true. 
 Each leaf has a stem, veins, and cells, 
 And each is composed of the same, 
 Thus proving their relative kin, 
 Though different in color or name." 
 
 I wended my way the next day 
 Through crowd-crushing masses of men, 
 And noted each face as I walked, — 
 The thought of the leaves with me then. 
 No two men alike in that throng 
 It seemed, as I watched them go by; 
 " Could the lesson of leaves be applied 
 To this busy throng ?" queried I. 
 
 Just then in the street was a crash, 
 Three people were killed and some crushed. 
 Each one in that mass stopped to help, 
 For aid and assistance all rushed. 
 This answered my thought of the leaves; 
 Each heart, filled with love for mankind, 
 Each brain with its nerves, tissues, cells, 
 God-made, are alike you will find. 
 
 Each being a part of a whole; 
 Mankind but a unit God made. 
 Let one sink in sin, suffer all, 
 The progress of all is delayed. 
 Then banish thy pride, cast, and creed; 
 Instead hold to brotherhood true. 
 Oh! lift up the fallen; give all 
 Humanity brotherhood's due. 
 
 47 
 
NIGHT 
 
 The drowsy day has gone to sleep 
 And night, with her thousand eyes, 
 Keeps watch and ward o'er nature tired, 
 The owl looks solemn and wise. 
 
 The weary man snores in his sleep; 
 The children forget their woes; 
 The mother resting from her cares, 
 Which none but motherhood knows. 
 
 The moon is hid by passing clouds; 
 The shadows flit to and fro; 
 The sparkling stars doth lend their light; 
 O'er all the night winds doth blow. 
 
 The barking of a lonely dog 
 Was heard far up on the hill; 
 But he to his kennel creeps, 
 O'er nature now all is still. 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 The trees' first freshness all has gone; 
 The autumn now has come at last; 
 And summer, with its drowsy days, 
 Is but a mem'ry of the past. 
 
 The wood and wild slow changed to brown: 
 The gladsome green gave place to gold; 
 The golden grain is thrashed and ground 
 And soon, in bread, the wife will mould. 
 
 4 8 
 
The rustling reed says autumn's here; 
 The falling fruits are gathered in; 
 The smell of cider fills the air; 
 Potatoes now are in their bin. 
 
 The birds are singing their farewell; 
 
 The brown leaves cuddle near earth's breast; 
 
 And there they hide their colors bright 
 
 In mead and moor, and welcome rest. 
 
 We watch the sapphire walls of heaven 
 That we might see the first snow cloud; 
 For autumn's birth does not bring death, 
 And winter's sheet is not a shroud 
 
 Of ghastly glimmer o'er the earth, 
 But 'tis a covering fitly white, 
 To warm old nature's heart the while, 
 And hide earth's sleep from cold and light. 
 
 The sleep that heralds hope of spring; 
 Each drowsy day must have its rest, 
 And weary man must sleep to live, 
 And nature knows that this is best. 
 
 And so when leaves begin to fall 
 And red and gold gives place to brown, 
 And corn and wheat fields bare their breasts, 
 And fruits and nuts have fallen down, 
 
 Rejoice that nature hath its rest. 
 What old earth gave it takes once more 
 Unto its breast, to nourish well 
 Till winter's snowy reign is o'er. 
 
 49 
 
LOVE'S LIFE IS SHORT 
 
 In youth's fair morn, when life is young, 
 And darkened not by life's despair, 
 Our hopes are built upon the sands, 
 And to our eyes the world is fair. 
 
 In love's first path are roses red; 
 
 But roses wilt and fade and die, 
 
 Then what their charm ? Do paths for some 
 
 'Midst everlasting roses lie ? 
 
 Or does love's charm last but a day, 
 Then, dying, leave a heart to weep 
 For what has been, for false hopes fled, 
 For hopes the heart has failed to keep ? 
 
 Love's life is short; when once 'tis over 
 Like roses picked, it quickly dies. 
 When love to love by law is bound 
 The charm is lost, and love oft flies. 
 
 DAYS OF THE PAST 
 
 The dear old days, hast thou forgot 
 When thou and I were sweethearts true, 
 When life held naught save joy and hope, 
 And all my love was given to you ? 
 
 How oft we wandered to the bridge 
 That crossed the stream so near the town, 
 And hand in hand we stood and watched 
 The little ripples floating down. 
 
 5° 
 
And like those waves our hopes fled on 
 To coming years when we'd be wed; 
 Alas! We saw nor grief nor care, 
 Nor dreamed of tears that now we shed. 
 
 The mem'ry of those days long gone 
 Doth fill my heart with sad despair; 
 Alone we sit. Why did love die ? 
 Alas we planned the future fair. 
 
 Oh, could we live those days again 
 And stand once more beside the stream 
 I fain would die with thee, my love, 
 Then live to find we did but dream 
 
 That life for us would be most joy, 
 Then wake to find that love hath died 
 And thou and I are twain again, 
 And we love's legal bonds defied. 
 
 We twain have lived the half of life, 
 So swift its cycles come and go; 
 But naught can dim the happy past 
 Those happy days of long ago. 
 
 DREAM IN AUTUMN 
 
 As having nothing else to do 
 And being just a little blue 
 I thought that I would take a row 
 In my new boat, a mile or so. 
 
 5 1 
 
While gliding calmy, smoothly o'er, 
 And glancing now from shore to shore, 
 I found the beauty of the eve 
 Was too enticing soon to leave. 
 
 The trees were tinged with rainbow tints 
 As if to give me gentle hints 
 That winter soon her garb would lend 
 And over all its beauty send. 
 
 The wind blew softly o'er the earth 
 That was so lately filled with mirth; 
 The glowing, glimmering stars so bright 
 Gave now to nature's breast their light. 
 
 The moonbeams softly fell around 
 And kissed Dame Earth; tho' not a sound, 
 Save now and then a twittering bird, 
 If you would listen, could be heard. 
 
 While harkening to these sounds so sweet, 
 I heard the sound of tiny feet; 
 And turning partly round behold! 
 There were four little elfins bold. 
 
 The youngest one was tall and white, 
 With garb of green and blossoms bright; 
 A large white cloak was round her thrown; 
 With folded hands she stood alone. 
 
 I gazed upon the children four 
 As they stood there upon the shore; 
 Then, as my boat much nearer drew, 
 I asked of one: " Pray, who are you ?" 
 
 52 
 
She glanced at me and sweetly smiled: 
 " Oh, I am mother's eldest child. 
 My name is Winter, and I come 
 From far and near, to every home. " 
 
 I said to her: " Why do you roam 
 And why go thus to every home ?" 
 She paused awhile, I knew not why, 
 And then she gave me this reply: 
 
 " I cover all the earth with white, 
 E'en tho' my frosts your flowers blight; 
 I bring, instead of window screens, 
 Artistic pictures, lovely scenes. 
 
 And when, beside your log fire's blaze, 
 You sit with pensive eyes and gaze, 
 I know that you are glad I came 
 As by the fire you dream of fame. 
 
 For there are nuts to crack and eat, 
 And home-made candy good and sweet; 
 Perhaps you make some buttered toast, 
 Or, in the oven, apples roast. 
 
 When Uncle Santa Claus comes round 
 Your homes with all good things abound, 
 And smiles are on each happy face, 
 For joy illumines every place. 
 
 But soon my labors are all o'er; 
 
 And when Spring comes I stay no more, 
 
 But to another place I go, 
 
 Tho' I return again, you know." 
 
 S3 
 
" And what's your name, my pretty maid ?" 
 
 Unto the next, who smiled and said : 
 
 " My mother always calls me Spring. " 
 
 " Why go you round and what to bring ?" 
 
 " I come to bring new life to all, 
 And from the south the birds I call; 
 And as they flit from tree to tree, 
 They sing their songs for you and me. 
 
 And all their voices, loud and clear, 
 Proclaim the news that I am here; 
 The wind and rain and sleet and snow 
 At my approach quite quickly go. 
 
 The wind and trees together talk; 
 The lad and lass together walk 
 O'er meadow grass so thick and green. 
 That all are happy can be seen. 
 
 Fair Nature's face is all aglow. 
 The flowers bloom as white as snow; 
 The pansies now, by rain and dews, 
 Have gathered all their dainty hues. 
 
 The forest flowers, pink and white, 
 Bedeck the woods with verdure bright; 
 While dandelions dot each field, 
 And to Dame Nature beauty yield. 
 
 I stay not long, for sister dear 
 Comes to me soon; 'tis this one here. 
 Now, sister, tell him ali you do; 
 He'll like to hear and talk with you." 
 
 54 
 
" Oh, I am mamma's lazy elf. 
 
 I like to lie and rest myself. 
 
 I let the people do the same, — 
 
 I think you'll soon find out my name. 
 
 The workmen love the sunny hours 
 When they can lie 'neath shady bowers; 
 And when from care and work of day 
 They gladly turn and go away. 
 
 O'er all the earth my silence comes 
 Unbroken, save where water runs 
 And trickles, as it gently flows 
 To where the sea wind ever blows. 
 
 The sun sends down its scorching rays 
 That only come in Summer days. 
 You wander near the tranquil lake, 
 And nothing but a hammock take. 
 
 And as you idly rest and swing, 
 Forgetful then of everything, 
 You hear the evening church bells ring, 
 And holy thoughts to you they bring. 
 
 You thank God for His watchful care 
 Which has been round you everywhere, 
 In every age, in every clime, — 
 You thank Him then for Summer time. " 
 
 Yet one more sister have you there 
 Who is so bright and yet so fair. 
 I ask you, dear, to tell me true 
 How long you stay and who are you. " 
 
 55 
 
One glance she gave me, then began: 
 " And shall I tell you who I am ? 
 Tho' some say Autumn, others Fall, 
 I come by either name you call. 
 
 Tho' now I'm here I will not last, 
 For all the leaves are falling fast. 
 They softly drop, or whirl around, 
 And lifeless fall upon the ground. 
 
 The children all with baskets go 
 To gather nuts that lie so low; 
 And as they laugh and dance around 
 You pause and listen to the sound. 
 
 While yonder on the hillside low 
 Two happy lovers gaily go. 
 You guess the story that's been told, — 
 'Tis one that never will grow old. 
 
 The robins all have early flown 
 Unto a warmer southern home. 
 The apples picked, potatoes dug, 
 And turnips put in earth quite snug." 
 
 Just then my boat had touched the shore 
 And I awoke to life once more 
 To find that I had been asleep 
 And floating there upon the deep. 
 
 As I recalled the dream I had 
 I sat and smiled; for I was glad 
 That power to us is given to see 
 The joy in things that are to be. 
 
 56 
 
And as the seasons go and come, 
 Of joy and pleasure each has some. 
 Tho' in each life " some rain must fall," 
 There's joy and gladness for us all. 
 
 A HEART CRY 
 
 Alone I sat to weep and watch 
 For what I know will never be. 
 Hope died since love had ceased to live, 
 And naught save scorn, can I give thee 
 Where once, with trust, I gave my heart 
 In happy days that soon meant naught. 
 Alas! in thee a comrade kind 
 And husband true I vainly sought. 
 
 The shrine on which I placed my love 
 Hath been too weak; or, could it be 
 My love so great, or so ill shown, 
 When still 'twas thine, it wearied thee ? 
 Another form may please thee now; 
 Another's face may be more fair 
 Than mine doth seem since love hath died; 
 Her lips be sweet as nectar rare; 
 
 Her eyes may shine as stars above; 
 Her winning ways may charm thee now; 
 But in thy heart will ever live 
 The mem'ry of thy marriage vow. 
 The sin that links her heart with thine 
 And made thee break thy plighted troth, 
 Will kill thy seeming love in time; 
 Then wilt thou reap what thou hast sown. 
 
 57 
 
Then wilt thou miss a wife's true love 
 That might have lived " till death do part"; 
 The wanton's passion and embrace 
 Cannot live long within thy heart. 
 Then worldly honor or renown, 
 With none to share, couldst thou enjoy ? 
 Or, even tho' she bore thy name 
 (Who now is but thy wanton toy), 
 
 Would not the mem'ry of a wife 
 Who left thee, dim thy birth-born pride, 
 And ever stand, a specter grim 
 Between thee and a sin-bought bride ? 
 Perhaps thou sayest what is true: 
 No bride of thine she e'er will be; 
 Yet more thy shame in knowing this, 
 Aye, more the shame for her and thee. 
 
 Had honor died not in thy breast 
 
 Thou couldst not coldly stand and say: 
 
 " I still love thee, I love not her, 
 
 And time will prove thee this some day." 
 
 And know thou not the child I gave 
 
 Will sometimes turn thy thoughts to me, 
 
 Although ambition's selfish claim 
 
 Is dear and much desired by thee ? 
 
 Remember this: that through her veins 
 Doth course thy blood; and that her heart 
 In future years will need thy love. 
 Then what will take her father's part ? 
 Her life and mine, too strongly bound 
 For aught to sever us in twain. 
 
 58 
 
Thou shouldst have been the third pure link 
 For her sweet sake, if not for mine. 
 
 And when a father's love she asks 
 Of me, and where he is and what, 
 Thinkst thou the task an easy one 
 To make reply, when I know not ? 
 And tho' to her no word I say, 
 Less tender tongues will tell the tale 
 Of wifehood scorned by thy neglect, 
 Because thy choice — a wanton pale. 
 
 Canst thou not feel, dost thou not know 
 My child and thine will share thy shame ? 
 E'en tho' 'twere miles 'tween thee and her, 
 For through Time's flight she bears thy name. 
 E'en tho' thy love for sin was great, 
 Could not her kiss and childish smile 
 Forever be thy one safeguard, 
 And save thee from the wanton's guile ? 
 
 Remember this: since sinful lust 
 Hath rudely torn thee from my heart, 
 I still can love thy child and mine, 
 Tho' we and thou forever part. 
 While thou and she who lured thee on 
 With sinful ways, together live, 
 Thy child and I will watch and wait 
 What fortune brings and fate shall give. 
 
 And so we leave. No legal tie, 
 No words of love, or tears, regret, 
 Can bind me longer to thy life. 
 Much better 'twere had we not met. 
 
 S9 
 
Seek not to follow. Go thy way, 
 Our path and thine no longer one. 
 A baby voice is calling me, 
 I drop my pen; my writing's done. 
 
 NATURE AND LIFE 
 
 When nature shows her dainty hues, 
 And grass is green and lilies bloom, 
 When blushing roses burst their buds, 
 And flowers waft their sweet perfume, 
 'Tis springtime. 
 
 But when the flowers fade and fall, 
 And towering trees grow bare and brown, 
 And summer birds seek southern homes, 
 And in heaven's blue the clouds doth frown, 
 'Tis autumn. 
 
 When hearts beat quick and eyes are bright, 
 When joy bedecks with smiles the face, 
 When cheeks are beds of rose tints rare, 
 And in the face no grief we trace 
 'Tis youth. 
 
 But when the golden locks grow gray, 
 And forms erect are bowed and bent, 
 And dimples lengthen into lines, 
 Which time and grief have slowly sent, 
 'Tis age. 
 
 60 
 
EIGHT AND FIFTY 
 
 In the midst of loved ones gathered 
 Round thy festal board to-day, 
 May these lines, a true friend's tribute, 
 Chance to fall within thy way. 
 
 Many years hath been thy portion, 
 Eight and fifty summers now; 
 Many more we hope thy measure 
 Ere death's hand shall touch thy brow. 
 
 Threads of silver crown thy forehead 
 Where Time's touch hath left its trace, 
 Not disfiguring, but adding 
 To the halo in thy face. 
 
 And thy form, erect and manly, 
 Still retains its youthful sway, 
 Ne'er revealing eight and fifty 
 Years hath crowned thy life to-day. 
 
 Many more we hope thy measure, 
 Filled with good and joy and health 
 And true friends beyond thy counting. 
 And this granted, thou hast wealth, 
 
 Wealth more real than gold and silver 
 Which can flee on agile wings; 
 But true friendship is a treasure 
 Of more worth than other things. 
 
 61 
 
So to-day we bring our wishes 
 
 For earth's best to be thy share 
 
 In the future; may Heaven's welcome 
 
 Greet thee after, is our prayer. 
 
 LOVE TOO LATE 
 
 When the lips have yielded promise 
 And the heart would fain be true, 
 Then the best that is within us 
 Strives for truth and virtue too; 
 But if love should force the fetters 
 And, unseen, should flee away 
 To a heart that went to seek it, 
 Should the head and lips say nay ? 
 
 When we know that something in us 
 Yearning, clings to that it met, 
 When the sleeping pulses quiver 
 With a hope, a vain regret, 
 When the briny tears drop slowly 
 For the love that came " too late," 
 Heaven help the hearts that sadly 
 Bid farewell and weep at fate. 
 
 How our love was born we knew not; 
 'Twas full fledged ere it was known, 
 And it lodged within our hearts, dear, 
 Ere we gave it hearth and home; 
 Tho' I knew it were disloyal, 
 And I strove to send it way, 
 Still my heart and troth agreed not; 
 Secretly my heart said " stay. " 
 
 62 
 
Dear, when Time hath torn asunder 
 Hearts that might have beat as one 
 (Had they met ere troth was plighted 
 To the first, who promise won), 
 Will their souls still hold communion 
 Pure and true, tho' miles divide ? 
 Will the " might have been " unite them, 
 One a husband, one a bride ? 
 
 THE CLOCK TICKS LOUD 
 
 There are times when life is nothing 
 More than eat and drink and sleep; 
 When a newborn hope is dying 
 Which we bury dark and deep; 
 And we turn, with fait' ring footsteps, 
 From the grave that holds the shroud, 
 To our lonely, loveless hearthstone, 
 Where the clock ticks loud. 
 
 When the stream of life is sluggish, 
 And we move because we must, 
 E'en our friends seem false and fickle, 
 And we shun them with distrust; 
 And the days seem weeks of waiting, 
 For the sun of joy; a cloud 
 Now hath hidden hope, ambition; 
 And the clock ticks loud. 
 
 But our friends are pushing onward, 
 Through discouragement and grief; 
 And we scorn to sit so listless, 
 And our lethargy grows brief. 
 
 63 
 
So once more we take new spirit, 
 Thankful for our gifts endowed, 
 And the world seems once more cheerful, 
 While the clock ticks loud. 
 
 But we linger not to hear it, 
 For we join the moving throng 
 That is rushing, crushing, onward, 
 For life's stream is swift and strong. 
 And ambition grows within us 
 While we march to vict'ry, proud, 
 And our life seems nobler, grander, 
 And the clock ticks loud. 
 
 REBEKAH MEMORIAL 
 
 As we gather here in greeting, 
 There are those we would recall 
 To our minds, tho' ne'er forgotten, 
 With love's sweet memorial. 
 
 They, as we, enjoyed life's blessings; 
 Took its godsends and its griefs, 
 Both in meek and Christian spirit, 
 Knowing life for all is brief. 
 
 Sweetest truths from sorrow gleaning; 
 Taking bitter with the sweet; 
 Knowing both are for advancement, 
 Upward steps for weary feet. 
 
 On their brows Time's touch fell lightly, 
 Tho' their years had reached the score; 
 Silver threads had met with dark ones; 
 Aye, the silver strands were more. 
 
 6 4 
 
Still their hearts were young and blithesome 
 Beating e'er with love and youth; 
 And the thoughts that made their hearts throb, 
 Were of friendship, love, and truth. 
 
 As we see their places vacant 
 In the ranks they loved so well, 
 Do the briny tears drop slowly. 
 And our grief we sadly tell. 
 
 While we miss we should not mourn them; 
 Where they are we soon shall go; 
 And in Heaven the link that binds us 
 Shall be love without one foe. 
 
 So we leave our love's memorial 
 Knowing, feeling, all is best; 
 And that when this life is over 
 We shall join them, all at rest. 
 
 MERCENARY LINK 
 
 Can wealth alone give to thine heart 
 The joy of life thou cravest, dear, 
 When thou dost give thy name alone, 
 While o'er past love doth drop a tear ? 
 Will gloss of gold and glare of wealth 
 Reward thy life, and give thee peace, 
 And rest and love ? O friend, beware! 
 Thy heart will often ask release 
 
 From bondage, that thou dost accept, 
 And long for days of " auld Lang Syne, " 
 
 65 
 
The days when thou wert free, and loved 
 The one whose heart is ever thine. 
 When bound to her who'll share thy name, 
 And that alone (thou gave not all), 
 Will not thy heart long for the days, 
 The days then dead beyond recall ? 
 
 For like a caged, prisoned bird, 
 
 Thy thoughts will sometimes seek the past, 
 
 And mourn the buried hopes and love, — 
 
 The love then cherished, that it's past. 
 
 Not Time itself can e'er conceal 
 
 That world-hid hope, tho' in its shroud, 
 
 And o'er thy passive, loveless life 
 
 Will mem'ry flit, — e'en like a cloud 
 
 That darkens earth and hides the sun 
 And floats o'er heaven's blue, and leaves 
 But gray and gloom, and gives to earth 
 No drop of rain, — yet deep it grieves 
 The heart that, bound, strives to be true; 
 The heart that fain would have forgot 
 That past, that hope, that dead ( ?) love's claim 
 In newer ties through Mammon sought. 
 
 THINE 
 
 Not for its value do I send thee this, 
 But as love's token to him whom I miss. 
 Long are the hours and sad is each day; 
 Lonely my life, dear, when thou art away. 
 
 66 
 
Absence prolonged doth breed grief in my heart, 
 Then haste thee back, so love's fears will depart. 
 Hearts that with fears and love's doubts must long 
 
 ache 
 Are the more surely, tho' slow, doomed to break. 
 
 Life is but sad when the heart mourns its mate, 
 When torn asunder each grieves for its fate. 
 Life is so short that it should not be lone, 
 And to each heart the best place should be home. 
 
 Darling, I miss thee by day and by night; 
 Naught save thy coming can make my heart light. 
 Patience and love will e'er bind me to thee; 
 And with my loved one my thoughts will e'er be. 
 
 Life without thee is but one dreary dream, 
 Hope of thy coming my one happy gleam. 
 Daily I meet with the world's surging throng, 
 Yet life is lonely when thou art gone long. 
 
 So with this token do I send my all, 
 Trusting my heart to thee, gone past recall; 
 Nay, I'd not ask it more, love, had I power, 
 But that my life might be near thee each hour. 
 
 Through all the daylight hours I wait for thee, 
 Aye, e'en in dreams, love, I'm hoping to see, 
 E'er many moons pass by, thee, who hast brought 
 Heaven to me, all the heaven I sought. 
 
 Teach me thy patience, love, for the day's long; 
 Tho' the birds sing, what care I for their song, 
 When I must list alone, thou far away; 
 So hasten back to me, sweetheart, I pray. 
 
 67 
 
LOVE'S MEMORIAL 
 
 Fate bore her where we could not see or hear, 
 And wrapped her in the robe of dreaded death. 
 And yet, methinks, I would not call her dead, 
 Altho' you say no sight has she or breath 
 
 Of which we know. And tho' we think we're wise, 
 None knoweth that beyond the grave. And she 
 May know and see our heart ache and our grief, 
 The tears that down our cheeks are flowing free 
 
 And leave their briny traces. She may know 
 The solitude that reigns within each heart 
 That joins our saddened circle. But, if so, 
 She knows the love that makes the teardrops start. 
 
 And so I say she is not dead, but sleeps, 
 And from life's turmoil now she is at rest. 
 She passed the darkened shade that but divides 
 Our world and hers. She is, in passing, blest. 
 
 Her slumb'ring rest hath taken much from us, 
 And yet that rest cannot take all you see; 
 For mem'ry lives. So, Death, where is thy sting, 
 E'en tho' thou comest with thy dire decree ? 
 
 And day by day we all will miss the smile 
 That gave us daily greeting; long the time 
 Will seem to these, her dear ones, now bereft; 
 And hard to say: " Thy will be done, not mine. " 
 
 68 
 
Yet, tho' her resting place is not afar 
 (Beneath the fragrant flowers she was laid), 
 We know that He, who gave, but placed the gift 
 Within the home His love and mercy made. 
 
 And there will cherish more than we could do 
 And when 'tis best will reunite once more. 
 So let this comfort those whose hearts now mourn; 
 The angel daughter waits thee when life's o'er. 
 
 TO 
 
 Thy soul met mine ere glances met, 
 And worthy, claimed my homage, dear, 
 And tho' 'twere miles 'tween thee and me 
 In thought thou ever hast been near. 
 
 I felt the hand clasp of a friend 
 While looking in thine eyes so blue, 
 And saw true worth within those depths 
 And all my soul acknowledged true. 
 
 I felt a sudden, secret doubt 
 Lest, in the conflict, head with heart, 
 The goddess, Love, would victor be, 
 And all my boasted will depart. 
 
 " To like," a lesson easy learned; 
 To still this growing love the task, 
 Or, greater still, to envy not 
 The one whose love and life were asked; 
 
 6 9 
 
The one whose soul must meet with thine; 
 The one, who being dear to thee, 
 To me shouldst also claim a bond 
 Because, dear friend, I care for thee. 
 
 My friendship false and selfish too 
 If, growing, it should take from thee 
 One single joy thy heart doth crave, 
 To give affection unto me. 
 
 Thy kind " God bless " do I repeat, 
 And may thy blessings doubled be; 
 And may whoever bears thy name 
 Be pure and worthy, dear, of thee. 
 
 CUPID'S MISSION 
 
 Run, little Cupid, and tell to heart so true 
 Brown eyes are waiting to look in eyes of blue; 
 Lovelorn and lonely, and longing for a kiss, 
 Go, Cupid, tell him that I am waiting this. 
 
 Say, little Cupid, that watching eyes grow dim, 
 That, morn and evening, I wait and watch for him. 
 Bring back, O Cupid, my best beloved, I pray, 
 Naught gives me pleasure while he doth from me 
 stray. 
 
 Stars up in heaven are dimming in their light, 
 Since lone I watch them and watch for him each 
 
 night. 
 Birds sing in minor their songs for me to-day, 
 Songs that I hear not since he must be away. 
 
 70 
 
Brown eyes will brighten and gleam with love's 
 
 own light 
 When his dear presence shall once more greet my 
 
 sight. 
 Red lips are waiting to meet him with love's sign 
 When I can welcome that dear sweetheart of mine. 
 
 A WOMAN'S WAIL 
 
 " The same old dishes to wash each day, 
 Same beds to make and bills to pay; 
 Each week I bake and scrub the floor, — 
 Life's tasks are changeless and never o'er." 
 
 So moaned a woman, with toilworn hands, 
 Whose once black hair was silver strands; 
 Between the eyes was aged and curved, 
 The sign of fretting the while she served. 
 
 She never paused in her life's great work 
 To hunt the joy; she feared to shirk 
 The tasks life gave; so day by day 
 She toiled and fretted the hours away. 
 
 She looked not upward at stars that shine 
 To light her pathway and yours and mine; 
 She never dreamed their pathway made 
 One glorious ring as round they strayed 
 
 To light this weary and darkened sphere 
 The while the sunshine is not near. 
 She listened not to tides that flow 
 Nor birds of springtime that come and go. 
 
 7 1 
 
The clouds give forth to the meadow green 
 The moisture they but claim again, 
 The water which makes pregnant ground, 
 The force which turns all the millwheels round. 
 
 The water flows to the ocean wide, 
 The air then claims it as his bride, — 
 The wedding trip to clouds above, 
 Once more to start on its path of love. 
 
 In life no labor is useless done; 
 Not round, but spiral, the paths we run; 
 Each task leads up, tho' seems the same, 
 Our hearts, not duties, are but to blame 
 
 In that each duty is seen as such, — 
 Not done with love's own kindly touch; 
 For tasks are toil when done in dread 
 And tire the heart and hands and head. 
 
 But when the coffin must bear away 
 The ones we work for day by day, 
 How gladly then our toil we'd give, 
 Could they, our loved ones, once more live. 
 
 Tho' tasks are done in the same old way, 
 Same dishes washed three times a day, 
 Each dish but feeds an angel here, 
 If love but lightens our tasks from fear. 
 
 Each loaf we make helps to mould the world; 
 Let patience be our flag unfurled; 
 By oft retreading feet grow strong, 
 Tho' tired are we and our days seem long. 
 
 72 
 
FAITH 
 
 The streamlet to the river flows, 
 The rushing river seeks the sea; 
 And creek and stream and river broad 
 Reveals God's love for you and me. 
 
 No mountain high, nor tower of rock, 
 Can bar their onward mighty course, 
 So great a factor is God's love, 
 An ever present flowing force. 
 
 Nor stops the raindrop as it falls 
 To say: " I may not find the deep, 
 And so, methinks, I'll safe remain; 
 Within my cloud home will I keep. " 
 
 Each man is as a single drop 
 In this great onward stream of life, 
 Each drop helps make or darken all, 
 Each man a force in this great strife. 
 
 No sin so great, no power so strong, 
 That it can turn life's stream away 
 From its great ocean of God's love; 
 However sinful, none can stray. 
 
 Some streams flow on in winding ways 
 Beyond our sight, we know not where; 
 But could we seek the ocean's deep, 
 Behold, the winding streams are there! 
 
 73 
 
And tho' life's stream be fair or foul, 
 Or sinks to depths beyond the dust, 
 That all shall reach God's haven at last, 
 We know not, but we'll trust, we'll trust. 
 
 IN KALAMAZOO CEMETERY 
 
 I stand alone; God's blue above; 
 Around me sleep the silent dead; 
 The sunbeams fall on each alike, 
 The cold white marble at each head. 
 
 And some clear cut, some dimmed with time, 
 Their names engraven on each stone, 
 That men might trace their resting place. 
 Of breathing mortals, I, alone. 
 
 How short is life! And soon will I 
 In slumber rest, and at my head 
 In tall, majestic silence stand 
 A carved white stone to mark my bed. 
 
 When men shall see my chiseled name 
 I wonder will they pause to say, 
 " A pleasant word and kindly smile 
 She gave to all who passed her way. " 
 
 Could this be true 'twere not in vain 
 I tried to live my simple creed 
 Of giving joy, concealing grief, 
 And helping those who are in need. 
 
 74 
 
No church book holds, on pages fair, 
 My name; and yet I ever tried 
 To live my creed — the Golden Rule — 
 And all the narrow creeds defied. 
 
 Be this my passport when I go — 
 None other Christ would ask of me, 
 That in my earnest way I tried 
 And, being human, failed to be 
 
 All that I wished; and yet what man 
 With great ambition reached the height 
 To which he ever strived to climb, 
 E'en tho' he kept the goal in sight. 
 
 And so, when in my narrow bed, 
 They place me for my final rest, 
 Carve but these words upon my tomb: 
 " She ever tried to do her best. " 
 
 IN MEMORIAM, SUPT. W. W. ROSS 
 
 Just this simple lay we bring 
 In our sorrow; tho' 'tis brief 
 It may tell to those he loved 
 (And must leave awhile) our grief. 
 
 Softly tread the children's feet; 
 Lowly bows each teacher's head; 
 Sadly speaks each one to-day, 
 For our faithful friend is dead. 
 
 75 
 
Noble, generous, great of heart; 
 Rich or poor, alike to him; 
 Sweet siesta has he earned; 
 Did life's duties with a vim. 
 
 Aye, a rest he truly earned; 
 Never wearied he while here; 
 Bore his burdens, yet gave all 
 Pleasant smiles and words of cheer. 
 
 So we bring him fragrant flowers 
 While our tears fall thick and fast; 
 And with laurels linked with love, 
 Do we crown the life now past. 
 
 In the many saddened hearts 
 That surround his bier to-day 
 Is revealed a noble life, 
 And we all love's tribute pay. 
 
 Close his eyes; his work is done; 
 Lay the roses on his breast; 
 Thankful all that he has lived, 
 Beloved friend, sweet be thy rest. 
 
 A CALM SEA 
 
 The sunbeams, tinged with ruby's glow, 
 Dance o'er the white-capped foam, 
 And up and down, o'er bounding waves, 
 The boats are sailing home. 
 
 7 6 
 
The ships return with human hopes, 
 And human woes to me; 
 The white-winged yachts float far away 
 Upon the salty sea. 
 
 Along the shore the children play 
 With bright and sparkling eyes; 
 The sight and sound of boundless sea 
 But add to their surprise. 
 
 And as the roaring, rushing waves 
 Are dashed against the rocks, 
 The spray leaps farther to the shore 
 And dampens little frocks. 
 
 The children laugh with childish glee, 
 Nor fear those waters wild; 
 Alas, that seamen cannot have 
 Such faith as has the child! 
 
 But more than once have older hearts 
 In fear watched angry waves 
 Toss stalwart men and women frail, 
 Like babes, to wat'ry graves. 
 
 And so, as fear-free children play 
 Among the sifted sand, 
 The elders watch incoming boats 
 That now are nearing land. 
 
 Nor need to fear the treacherous waves 
 That, for to-day, are kind; 
 For skies are blue, no clouds are seen, 
 And silent sleeps the wind. 
 
 77 
 
A LIFE LONGING 
 
 What care I if when I am gone 
 
 Fame gives the laurel won, 
 
 If I must strive and never hear 
 
 No paean of praise, not one; 
 
 Or never know my efforts gave 
 
 To other lives relief, 
 
 Or that my words reached saddened hearts 
 
 And eased their burdened grief. 
 
 A loveless life, an honored death, — 
 
 To me what value this, 
 
 (Save for the ones that call me friend), 
 
 All love and praise I miss. 
 
 When in my casket I am laid 
 
 What care I what I hold 
 
 If while I live I never feel 
 
 Love's arms around me fold. 
 
 In death I care not if my brow 
 
 Is decked with lilies white, 
 
 If while I live my life must be 
 
 One lonely, loveless night. 
 
 In death I care not if my hands 
 
 Hold roses sweet or rue; 
 
 But while I live I want, I crave, 
 
 Love's kisses pure and true. 
 
 When closed lips can answer not, 
 What care I for a kiss, 
 If all through life I love in vain 
 And love's caress I miss ? 
 
 78 
 
Don't wait till death divides our lives 
 To show the love you bear; 
 Let every morn be love's sweet proof, 
 And every night love's prayer. 
 
 THE NEED OF THE WORLD 
 
 Oh, give us men, — not sluggish men 
 
 Who breathe and move each day, 
 
 And tread the path their fathers trod, 
 
 Nor seek a better way, 
 
 Who never sin, as we call " sin," 
 
 Yet never upward soar, 
 
 But tread with aimless, listless feet 
 
 The same path o'er and o'er. 
 
 The world needs men of brain and brawn, 
 Who, aiming high, may sink, 
 Yet, dauntless, daring, rise again; 
 Who have great minds to think, 
 And thinking, lead the world above 
 To heights unseen, unknown, 
 And undiscovered, save for these 
 Great hearts thus proved and shown. 
 
 Oh, give us men who know the needs 
 Of hearts crushed with despair 
 And cannot go, but sink beneath 
 The burdens they must bear. 
 Aye, give us men, the manly men. 
 The world needs leaders true 
 To guide, uplift, encourage, 
 But few there are, so few. 
 
 79 
 
LINES TO 
 
 I send my heart to thee, love, in my writing; 
 Naught do I keep from thee, naught but my name. 
 Angels may whisper my love while I'm dreaming, 
 Tho' in my dreams I am thine just the same. 
 
 " Why," you may ask of me, " keep I my birth- 
 right, 
 Giving my love tho' retaining my life ? 
 How could I love thee so truly, so dearly, 
 Yet, at the same time, refuse to be wife ?" 
 
 Dear, I would have my love pure and unselfish, 
 Rather a blessing to thee than a blight, 
 For I look up to thee always, my hero, 
 Seeing in thee all that's good, brave, and right. 
 
 Were thou bound down to me all through life's 
 
 keeping, 
 Bearing my burdens as well as thine own, 
 Couldst thou soar upward to flights that thou 
 
 dreamest, 
 Couldst thou reach heights to which heroes have 
 
 flown ? 
 
 Let me not come between thee and life's learning, 
 Let thy ambition and talents soar free; 
 Free to the God-given plane far above us, 
 Free to win laurels so fitting for thee. 
 
 80 
 
DON'T CRY 
 
 Little girl with eyes of blue, 
 Why are they filled with child-grief dew ? 
 The coming years will bring thee this, 
 Then let thy childhood sorrow miss. 
 
 Wipe away all signs of grief; 
 Thy tears will bring thee no relief; 
 To weep dims eyes and dulls the brain, 
 And childhood days come not again. 
 
 Cease thy grief and save thy tears 
 To ease the ache of sadder years ; 
 For thou wilt drink of grief thy share; 
 The coming years are not all fair. 
 
 Life brings roses; death brings rest; 
 And I oft question which is best 
 When we must turn the page of youth, 
 Experience brings life's bitter truth. 
 
 Life brings rue; grief comes with years; 
 For there are none who shed no tears 
 As they tread o'er life's rugged road; 
 And every one must bear his load. 
 
 Thou art young; no need for thee 
 To dim thine eyes with misery; 
 We soon can mend thy broken toy, 
 So shun all grief and seek for joy. 
 
 81 
 
Little girl, with eyes of blue, 
 Oh, listen what I tell to you: 
 Just sing and smile and play to-day; 
 For thee 'twill not be always May. 
 
 TO A FRIEND IN CHICAGO 
 
 Art thou alone in that city so great ? 
 There greed strives with gold in the duel with sin; 
 There beings are bustled and bartered for gain 
 While heroes are striving a vict'ry to win. 
 
 There friends and there foes are all crowded and 
 
 crushed, 
 And men with the millions, — they only have room; 
 There children are born in the mansions so fine; 
 The birthright of others is sorrow and gloom. 
 
 There man can scarce walk in the dim, dusky hours 
 Without some stray tempter will seek to allure; 
 And few are the men, when sin seeks them so free, 
 So strong that they yield not and brave to keep pure. 
 
 Where women with black negro faces drag down 
 In Hell's grasp to hold and degrade the white man; 
 And women's fair features, Caucasian in hue, 
 Are waiting their paramours — men from Japan. 
 
 And women, alone, needing clothing and food, 
 With room rent to pay and their salary small, — 
 How great the temptation to be led astray 
 Where rest and fine clothing will welcome their fall. 
 
 82 
 
And wise is the woman who sees beyond this 
 And knows that sin's entrance is not as sin's end; 
 That misery, penury, hate, and disgrace, 
 Will be but the outcome, with none to defend. 
 
 And yet for the outcast are wide-open doors, 
 And sisters of mercy to welcome them in, 
 And give them a " godspeed " in life's upward road 
 If they will but turn from the pathway of sin. 
 
 And with this brave army of women and men 
 (All seeking to save and reclaim the downcast), 
 I find thee, my friend, and rejoice thou art there, 
 And know God, who guards, will reward thee at last. 
 
 Oh, happy the man who hath mission like this, — 
 To bring sinful hearts to the Master's great fold, 
 To bring light and love to the sin-sodden soul, 
 To gather the wayward from out of the cold. 
 
 Lo, many the traitors to baffle thee there, 
 And many the hell-holes to fight and defy; 
 But greater the effort, the brighter the crown 
 The victors will wear in the sweet by and by. 
 
 ONE WOMAN'S REPENTANCE 
 
 Once on a time, not long ago, 
 A brave and noble woman fell; 
 She gave her heart, her trust, her all, 
 To him she loved, alas, too well! 
 
 83 
 
1 To err is human. " Heaven is love, 
 And she, a woman, loving, fell. 
 And yet 'twas women that condemned 
 And each to each that sin would tell. 
 
 Save this one sin, her life was good; 
 She ever thought of others' woe; 
 Her gentle touch soothed aching heads; 
 She cheered each heart where'er she'd go. 
 
 Upon no church book was her name; 
 Her creed was Christ; His love, His life 
 Was her example; and she tried 
 To live her creed in this world's strife. 
 
 The years passed by. Her love redeemed 
 Her one false step. Through sin she rose 
 To heights above her scorning friends, 
 And mercy follows where she goes. 
 
 And him she loved unwisely, well, 
 
 He came and claimed her as his bride; 
 
 And in their chosen work of love 
 
 Has strengthened, helped, both side by side. 
 
 Their mission this: redeeming souls 
 That sinned through love and, sinning, fell, 
 And, falling far, care not to rise, 
 E'en tho' the end they know full well. 
 
 But with a loving, kindly grace, 
 She lifts them up and starts them anew 
 And cares for them; her kindly grasp 
 Keeps them in paths and makes them true. 
 
 8 4 
 
And so her sin hath served its end. 
 Naught comes but hath a purpose pure, 
 If we but knew and seek its aim 
 And, patient, all our trials endure. 
 
 OUR SOLDIERS DEAD 
 
 Do you know what it means 
 When we talk of our dead ? 
 When we deck with the flag 
 Each lowly green bed ? 
 
 Ask the men who are bowed 
 By the burden of time; 
 Their reply may not be 
 Given in tune or in rhyme. 
 
 They may falter, perchance, 
 As they try to tell you, 
 But they failed not when clothed 
 In those garments of blue. 
 
 Saddened hearts beat in fear; 
 Kindred eyes filled with tears; 
 Yet no hand held men back 
 From those four blood-shed years. 
 
 Some returned; more were killed, 
 And the flag was their shroud, 
 As they lay pulseless, still, 
 'Midst the war-weary crowd. 
 
 85 
 
But our slaves were all free, 
 And our country but one; 
 At an end was the strife, 
 And the war it was done, 
 
 And these heroes are ours; 
 On their graves do we lay 
 Our small tribute of love 
 Each Memorial Day. 
 
 TEACH MY DAUGHTER I AM DEAD 
 
 One evening, as the moonbeams shone in a dreary 
 
 room, 
 A man sat there in misery and gloom; 
 With trembling hand was writing upon a paper 
 
 white; 
 And this the mournful message he did write: 
 
 " Molly, dear, with sorrow I know I dare not plead 
 That you will forgive me, or my pleadings heed; 
 But now I ask this favor," and then he dropped his 
 
 head, 
 " Teach our little daughter, teach her I am dead. " 
 
 His features drawn and haggard where sin had left 
 
 its trace; 
 The lamplight fell upon his pallid face; 
 And as he wrote the teardrops upon his cheeks fell 
 
 fast, 
 As mem'ry brought before him joys now past. 
 
 86 
 
At last the moon had vanished behind the western 
 
 hill, 
 But at the dawn the man sat cold and still; 
 His pulseless hand was holding a pen in icy grasp; 
 To write these words had been his dying task : 
 
 " Molly, dear, with sorrow I know I dare not plead 
 That you will forgive me, or my pleadings heed; 
 But now I ask this favor," and then he dropped his 
 
 head, 
 " Teach our little daughter, teach her I am dead." 
 
 A BOY'S RECITATION 
 
 Dad's a lawyer and he's busy 
 All the time; that's what he said; 
 But my mother says he's crazy, 
 Nothin' but a rattlehead. 
 And when she has cooked her dinner 
 Steamin' hot and he's not there, 
 Then my mother says she's angry, 
 For he's loafin' round somewhere. 
 
 And she says: " We'll wait no longer; 
 He can eat his dinner cold;" 
 Then we both sit down together, 
 But she just sits there to scold, 
 Cause she knows I sit and listen 
 (Easy task while I can eat), 
 But my mother stops her scoldin' 
 When she hears the tread of feet. 
 
 87 
 
When he enters she looks sour; 
 
 But she never says a word 
 
 Till he says: " I've been so busy 
 
 That the clock I never heard. " 
 
 Then she says: " Now look here, Henry, 
 
 I've been told that oft before; 
 
 But I know you've been a sittin' 
 
 With the men down at the store. " 
 
 Then she chases to the kitchen 
 And brings in his portion hot; 
 That's just like these crazy women, 
 Doin' what they said they'd not; 
 But my mother's heart is tender, 
 Tho' she scolds when dad is late, 
 Yet she has his dinner steamin' 
 When she says we will not wait. 
 
 HON. MATHIAS BROWN 
 
 Mathias Brown was, as a lad, 
 A nuisance to the folks in town; 
 With frizzled hair and eyes of brown, 
 And fishing for his fad. 
 With pole and line he'd sit all day; 
 And when compelled to go to school 
 Would disobey, break every rule; 
 For fun he sure would find some way. 
 
 His neighbors said: " Oh, he is bad; 
 He don't know nothin' else but lie; 
 His father works while he sits by; 
 A lazy, good-for-nothin' lad." 
 
 88 
 
Mathias Brown just smiled; said he: 
 ' Now what's the use to plow and spade, 
 And work so hard when brains were made; 
 I'll fool you yet, now you just see. " 
 
 At last young Brown was sent away 
 To visit friends out in the West; 
 Ere long he wrote: " I think it best 
 To live out here, and so I'll stay." 
 There, as a lawyer's office boy, 
 He earned his daily board and bed; 
 Then great ambitions filled his head; 
 He said: " I'll be no lawyer's toy." 
 
 He set to work to win great power; 
 Gained friends, was later sent to be 
 Their man in Congress; soon was he 
 The man triumphant of the hour. 
 When neighbor Jones, who scorned him so, 
 Received his card and to his name 
 Was " H-o-n" — " Is this the same 
 Mathias Brown I used to know ? 
 
 " What trick is this he's playin' now 
 
 To have a printed card this like 
 
 To say he's honest ? Why I miss 
 
 The joke he's tryin' to play, I vow. " 
 
 But when young Brown walked in that day 
 
 To Jones' home, and told the news, 
 
 " To hoe and spade I did not choose," 
 
 " Well, well," was all old Jones could say. 
 
 8 9 
 
NELLIE LEE'S ANSWER 
 
 I have read thy lines of friendship, 
 Heard thy words so kind and true; 
 They have caused me joy and gladness, 
 For they came, dear friend, from you. 
 
 As you say we know no future 
 And perhaps 'tis for the best; 
 As we may fore'er be parted, 
 Soon in heaven be at rest. 
 
 This I know, our days of friendship 
 Have been very dear to me; 
 And in all the coming future 
 You will not forgotten be. 
 
 When you're far away from loved ones 
 In the future soon to be, 
 Will the " winds and birds and brooklets " 
 Cause you then to think of me ? 
 
 When in other lands you wander 
 
 Far away o'er land and sea, 
 
 When you've formed new ties of friendship, 
 
 Will you still love Nellie Lee ? 
 
 God in heaven alone has power 
 To control our wayward feet; 
 And it's by His love and goodness 
 We again may hope to meet. 
 
 90 
 
But, dear friend, if" fate shall part us," 
 Or on earth we meet no more, 
 When this earthly life is ended 
 We will meet on yonder shore. 
 
 Now farewell. May God who loves us 
 From all danger keep you free. 
 May the angels guide and guard you 
 Is the prayer of Nellie Lee. 
 
 AN IDEAL HOME 
 
 Our home shall be a haven of love 
 When we are settled down in life, 
 And you will never from me roam 
 And I will be your loving wife. 
 
 Then every morning when we wake 
 I'll have a loving kiss for you, 
 The kiss that lasts and makes life sweet 
 Is from the wife that's ever true. 
 
 My heart shall listen when you tell 
 That I have been your joy in life. 
 Your eyes shall shine with secret pride 
 Whenever you shall say " my wife." 
 
 The brightest room in all our house 
 I'll make for you a cosy den. 
 And every night when you are tired 
 I'll read to you and love you then. 
 
 9 1 
 
Sometimes I'll nestle at your side 
 And tell you all I've read that day, 
 Or else I'll tell you some remark 
 Of praise of you to make you gay. 
 
 Your words of love will be to me 
 What rain and sunshine are to flowers; 
 Oft tell me that you love me, dear, 
 'Twill cause me bright and happy hours. 
 
 Then all my many faults shall be 
 Corrected by your tender love; 
 My face to you shall be most fair 
 On earth below or heaven above. 
 
 And when the trials of life are great 
 I'll cheer and help you all I can; 
 For then you know your griefs will be 
 Not only yours, but yours and mine. 
 
 My eyes shall ever tell to you 
 What oft to me your lips have told; 
 And I will then so happy be 
 I would not change my place for gold. 
 
 And you shall be my pride and joy 
 And I your loving, happy bride; 
 Your heart an ocean wide shall be, 
 I'll launch my all upon its tide. 
 
 92 
 
ONCE BLIND 
 
 I am sitting by the old weeping willow 
 
 And am longing now, my darling one, for thee; 
 
 I am weeping as I sit here so lonely 
 
 And I wish that you could be here now with me. 
 
 Oh, I'm weeping now so lonely, Nellie, darling, 
 And I sigh to hear your loving voice once more; 
 For the world seems dark and dreary all around me, 
 And I fain would wish this weary life was o'er. 
 
 I am praying now for strength, Nellie, darling, 
 Strength to bear what fate shall grant till life be past; 
 Ask in Jesus' name and trust, 'twill be granted, 
 In this promise now I cling so firm and fast. 
 
 I am weeping now no more, my Nellie, darling, 
 But am trusting in His promise good and true, 
 And the words that now I long to hear you whisper 
 Are but these, dear one, I'm praying now for you. 
 
 OH, I LOVES YOU, 'DEED I DO 
 
 When the world seems dark and dreary, 
 And the sun has ceased to shine, 
 And the gloom is settling o'er you, 
 As you see your hopes decline, 
 Then you almost feel like sinking 
 'Neath the load that's tiring you, 
 Till you hear a childish whisper, 
 " Oh, I loves you, 'deed I do." 
 
 93 
 
Then two little arms fold round you; 
 And two blue eyes meet your own; 
 And two little feet climb lapward, — 
 " Mamma, dear, I'se dis turn home; 
 I'se been playin' wif my dolly, 
 But I'se tired; I wanted you " 
 (And the little lips come closer), 
 " Oh, I loves you, 'deed I do." 
 
 Childhood trust dispels the sorrow; 
 
 Baby lips kiss grief away; 
 
 How could eyes be filled with teardrops ? 
 
 " Tears dit in the baby's way." 
 
 So you wipe away the grief-signs, 
 
 As you look in eyes of blue; 
 
 Then the baby, laughing, whispers, 
 
 " Oh, I loves you, 'deed I do. " 
 
 May this childish faith ne'er waver; 
 Clasp and keep that love your own 
 Let not grief, nor acts unworthy, 
 Kill the fruit of good seeds sown. 
 Oh, may heaven keep you worthy 
 Of this child's love, pure and true; 
 May her words e'er cheer your pathway; 
 " Oh, I loves you, 'deed I do. " 
 
 TO KATY 
 
 Last night as I lay on my pillow 
 My thoughts were all of thee; 
 My heart grew sad; I wondered 
 Will she be true to me. 
 
 94 
 
We cannot always be together 
 Though 'tis our wish to be; 
 For other ties more binding 
 May take you far from me. 
 
 And so I wondered if you ever 
 Would then still think of me 
 Who now, in loving friendship, 
 Will send these lines to thee. 
 
 We both may have our times of sorrow 
 And both have trials to bear; 
 But God, a loving Father, 
 Will all our burdens share. 
 
 Though rocks and rills may soon divide us 
 Our hearts can still be true; 
 Our lips may meet no more, dear, 
 Yet still I'll love but you. 
 
 Now may the angels sweetly guide us 
 All through this life of care; 
 And when in heaven we meet, dear, 
 We'll love each other there. 
 
 AN ANSWER 
 
 " Uselessly, aimlessly, drifting through life, 
 What was I born for ? For somebody's wife — " 
 
 It was this little couplet that greeted my eyes 
 
 As I glanced through a paper with much of surprise; 
 
 95 
 
If this is the aim of the girls that I know, 
 The aim of our boys has not gone down so low. 
 
 O girls, now why should you allow them to say 
 The reason you live is to marry some day ? 
 If uselessly now you are living your life 
 You'll uselessly live when you're somebody's wife. 
 
 If you are but watching a husband to greet. 
 And longing that somebody soon now to meet, 
 'Twill not be much pity, 'twill not be sad fate, 
 If somebody comes to you never, or late. 
 
 Your purpose in life should be noble and grand, 
 And not just to marry. So please understand 
 If you do what is right, from that rule never swerve, 
 You'll get a good husband, the kind you deserve. 
 
 TO MRS. W 
 
 With a soul that is pure and ambitious, 
 And a mind like the depths of the sea, 
 And a heart ever true, ever trustful, 
 Camest thou from afar, dear, to me. 
 
 But the sound of thy voice and I yielded, 
 Laid my trophies of heart and of brain 
 At thy feet, to be gathered and treasured, 
 Or be cast to the giver again. 
 
 But thou didst not refuse of my friendship, 
 And so I, growing boid, send thee this; 
 May it tell thee my joy in thy presence, 
 How thy sweet, girlish ways Twill miss. 
 
 9 6 
 
Like a ray of the warm southern sunshine 
 Came thy life into mine to enthrall 
 And to cheer me, and others who meet thee. 
 Thou hast won the kind wishes of all. 
 
 But the dear sunny South calls thee hither, 
 Also duty and love bid thee go, 
 Where our stern stately way may not chill thee, 
 Where the cold northern winds do not blow. 
 
 But in the days of the swift-coming future, 
 Shouldst thou sit in thy fair southern home, 
 None near thee save Charlie and children, 
 Oh, remember the friend here alone. 
 
 And may warm southern breezes waft to thee 
 All the thoughts and kind wishes we send; 
 May the mem'ry of days, few yet happy, 
 Be connected with that of your friend. 
 
 TO MRS. A 
 
 Alone in the desolate darkness 
 I sit and fight with my fate; 
 Despair doth claim and hold me. 
 
 God! aweary I wait. 
 
 1 wait but for woman's true heritage 
 That God hath given for all, 
 
 Else why make hearts so human 
 To wait and long for love's call. 
 
 97 
 
I smile when the daylight is dawning, 
 My grief I try not to share; 
 I strive to ease the heartache 
 I see that others must bear. 
 
 But when the day's duties are over 
 And none my sorrow has guessed, 
 Life's loneliness comes surging o'er me, 
 I ask doth God doeth best ? 
 
 We two walked life's pathway together 
 But for a time, then he lay 
 And closed his eyes so weary 
 And slept. Alone here I stay. 
 
 Alone do I trod o'er life's pathway 
 So long I see not the end; 
 And none to say, " I love you," 
 Save those who call me a friend. 
 
 He took the one love that He gave me 
 (So short a time it was here), 
 And life seems lone and hopeless, 
 The nights seem empty and drear. 
 
 And yet I'll look forward for sunshine, 
 The clouds will sometime all go 
 And show the bright, warm sunshine,- 
 'Twill be a bright afterglow. 
 
 9 8 
 
IN GRANDMA'S ATTIC 
 
 Worn out with work I climbed the stairs 
 
 Of grandma's attic here to-day; 
 
 To search o'er things both old and worn 
 
 Before she died she put away. 
 
 The rain, with measured rhythm, falls 
 
 On gabled roof of shingles worn 
 
 And ends turned up; aye, aged backs 
 
 Of men will bend from burdens borne. 
 
 The locust limbs are rustling loud; 
 The popcorn ears to dry are tied 
 To rafters, which are well festooned 
 With sacks of apples, peaches, dried; 
 An old and time-worn hair-trunk stands 
 In all neglect here in the gloom; 
 A name, made with brass-headed nails, 
 Upon its side, like on a tomb. 
 
 A table scratched and one leaf gone; 
 Through time and usage 'tis much scarred; 
 And grandma's chair without one leg; 
 An old-styled bureau badly marred, 
 The New York Ledgers for a year 
 In pasteboard back are neatly bound; 
 The turn-down corners here and there, 
 With many thumb marks can be found. 
 
 To reach a bunch of wrapped up herbs, 
 Upon the trunk I deftly climb; 
 Here's isup, sage, and catnip, too; 
 And here the old and much loved thyme. 
 
 99 
 
And old tin can with rusty lid 
 Holds flower seeds; here's mountain snow, 
 Petunias red, and dahlias, pinks, 
 And morning glories, golden glow. 
 
 Here's lettuce, beans, and peas in pod; 
 The garden seeds all marked with care; 
 Here's beets and turnips, parsley, too, 
 And radishes; they all are there. 
 With reverential hand I close 
 The lid and put the can away 
 These tokens take me back again 
 To long-gone childhood's happy day. 
 
 The blossom-bordered garden beds 
 Again I see in fancy now; 
 With grandma cutting blooms for me; 
 Her glasses slipped above her brow. 
 I sit and muse o'er days gone by; 
 But there! I hear a man's voice say: 
 " Where is that wife of mine gone now ?" 
 So I must hasten and away. 
 
 MY SONG 
 
 I know full well it is not mine 
 To sing great songs the seraphs sing,- 
 Not mine to sing for all the world, 
 Or e'en to many beauty bring. 
 
 But it may be, in my weak way, 
 I have the power to sing but one, — 
 One humble song to reach some heart 
 And heal it, ere my song be done. 
 
 ioo 
 
And should this be, not failure mine; 
 Nay, he fails not who does his best, 
 E'en tho' he never reach the goal 
 Toward which ambition gave him zest. 
 
 So should my melody give birth 
 
 In one poor heart, for hope to be 
 
 All that God meant, that newborn hope 
 
 Were recompense enough for me. 
 
 Or if some weary, way-worn soul 
 Should pause to list to my refrain 
 And catch some good midst faulty tones, 
 Why then my song's not sung in vain. 
 
 Let seraphs sing for nation's praise; 
 But let me reach one heart, just one, 
 And there leave joy in place of pain, 
 I'll count my effort as well done. 
 
 JULIA 
 
 She stands in the midst of the glitter and glare; 
 Her eyes shine like stars with their large lustrous 
 
 light; 
 So brilliant and beautiful, fathomless, deep, 
 Yet rival in darkness the depth of the night. 
 The coraline curves of her lips wreathed in smiles; 
 Her pink dimpled cheeks — ah, no roses so sweet; 
 Majestic and stately she moves through the throng, 
 And lightly she treads with her small dainty feet. 
 
 IOI 
 
A MIDNIGHT VIGIL 
 
 The sunset fades. The moonbeams rise 
 To light the scenes we loved so dear, — 
 The scenes we two oft looked upon 
 In nights gone by when thou wert near. 
 
 The night wind sighs, for thou art gone; 
 Those happy days are now all past; 
 The tall trees stand, like spectral ghosts, 
 To seek for that which did not last. 
 
 Tho' years bring naught and fortune frowns, 
 Tho' fate shall hold its hand between 
 Thy life and mine to keep us twain, 
 Still shall my love keep fresh and green. 
 
 The summer stars that now seem dim, 
 The moonbeams that to-night I see 
 And watch in loneliness and grief, 
 Are shining, dear, for thee and me. 
 
 And tho' through falling tears I watch, 
 I know the night must pass away; 
 God would not let such love be born 
 To unrequited always be. 
 
 E'en now I see the dawn approach 
 And at its coming shadows flee. 
 O love! will sorrow cease at last 
 And joy return to me and thee ? 
 
 102 
 
And shouldst alone thou wend thy path 
 Beneath the starlight's flickering rays, 
 Thou canst not still what love shall tell, 
 Nor drown the dream of bygone days. 
 
 Sometimes, in lonely evening hours, 
 A secret voice shall lisp my name, 
 And tell thee, as in days of old, 
 " Her love once true is just the same. " 
 
 THE MAN IN THE MANSION 
 
 If the man of great poverty hath naught to share. 
 If with cold he is skaking, his hands numb and 
 
 bare, 
 If he thinks of life's pleasures for him there are none 
 From the dawn of the day to the setting of sun, — 
 When he thinks of these things (he will grieve as he 
 
 thinks), 
 Then his courage oft fails him, his spirit oft sinks 
 
 But remember 
 If the man in the hovel hath trials to bear, 
 So hath the man in the mansion. 
 
 If the hut of the poor man is dingy and dim 
 
 Yet hath love that will lighten life's pathway for 
 
 him, 
 No need he to care for the palaces great, 
 Where fountains are sparkling and carriages wait, 
 Where breezes are sweet with the perfumes of 
 
 blooms, 
 Yet love lingers not in those richly decked rooms. 
 
 For remember 
 If the man in the hovel hath love in his home 
 Perchance there is none in the mansion. 
 
 I0 3 
 
After all, what is wealth ? If the heart hath its 
 
 grief, 
 And is sordid and narrow, can the wealth give 
 
 relief ? 
 When the sunshine falls only on carpets so rare, 
 While the life is all darkened by sorrow and care, 
 The rich man may live in a great splendid hell, 
 And bear all its tortures; he, only, could tell. 
 
 But remember 
 That if true love will lighten the load for the poor, 
 'Twill also for him in the mansion. 
 
 Envy not, though in hut or in hovel art thou, 
 Let the sweat of toil honest stand out on thy brow, 
 Let thy heart beat with willingness. Grasp every 
 
 chance. 
 When thou seest, without envy, the rich in thy 
 
 glance 
 Thou wilt know that their cup holds its bitterness, 
 
 too, 
 And that fate hath not dealt so unjustly with you. 
 
 And remember 
 That the man in the hovel hath trials to bear 
 And so hath the man in the mansion. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF THE PAST 
 
 I am thinking now of you 
 
 And I wonder as I sigh 
 
 If you ever think of me 
 
 And the days that have gone by ? 
 
 If you love another one; 
 
 As you call another dear 
 
 Are your thoughts for him as true 
 
 As in days when I was near ? 
 
 104 
 
Does it ever cause you pain 
 As your thoughts recall the past ? 
 'Twas but fate that came to us 
 And our hopes did quickly blast. 
 I will often think of you 
 And the happy times we had; 
 But the future has its cheer 
 So we need not be so sad. 
 
 Dear, I hope that you may be 
 Always free from grief and fear; 
 May you sometimes think of me 
 And the days when I was dear. 
 And may future friendships gained 
 Be as true as were the old; 
 And on memory's pages white 
 May our names be both enrolled. 
 
 HE KNOWETH BEST 
 
 How often do we pause to wonder 
 Why certain things have happened so, 
 Forgetful that an all-wise power 
 Permitted it, and He doth know. 
 We ask for much, for many blessings, 
 Expecting to receive them all. 
 But, like a child, when they're not granted 
 Our hopes and spirits, faltering, fall. 
 
 'Tis when our hearts are early saddened, 
 Despondency doth dwell therein; 
 And so we think that fate's unjust, 
 And almost cease to trust in Him, 
 
 105 
 
Our hearts grow weak, our thoughts rebellious , 
 Against His judgment, good and great, 
 The knowledge of His wisdom cometh 
 To every one, tho' sometimes late. 
 
 But coming years bring us more wisdom; 
 We see He doeth what is best. 
 And by His answering, not in our way, 
 We learn to trust Him for the rest. 
 We see His strength by our own weakness, 
 And learn to love Him and to adore; 
 By disappointments we grow stronger, 
 And learn to trust Him more and more. 
 
 REVERIE 
 
 I cannot tell why I should seem 
 
 So sad and lone to-night, 
 
 For all this world is full of joy, 
 
 My life has been so bright. 
 
 But sitting here alone and tired, 
 
 And longing for a rest, 
 
 I thought of home and those I love 
 
 Of all my friends the best. 
 
 As my piano stool was near 
 
 I sat me down to play; 
 
 My fingers wandered o'er the keys 
 
 With careless, idle sway. 
 
 'Twas long ere I knew what I played; 
 
 My mind was far away 
 
 With those, who, I felt sure, had missed 
 
 Their loving child to-day. 
 
 1 06 
 
At home I often used to sing 
 
 An old, old soldier song 
 
 In which he asks if he is missed 
 
 By those he left so long, 
 
 And if there is a vacant chair 
 
 Among the family group, 
 
 Or if they think of him who now 
 
 Is marching with his troup. 
 
 I used to wonder then if I 
 
 Would ever sing that song 
 
 And really mean it, and like him 
 
 Would be away so long. 
 
 These, — idle words for me to ask 
 
 If they miss me at home, 
 
 For well I know that I am missed 
 
 Regardless where I roam. 
 
 And so to-night, unconsciously, 
 
 I played that dear old song, 
 
 And with such thoughts, no wonder 'tis 
 
 I played it o'er so long. 
 
 But useless thoughts like these must cease 
 
 For lack of sense and time; 
 
 But there was comfort in the song. 
 
 And solace in the rhyme. 
 
 THE LOVER'S RETURN 
 
 The wild wind was whizzing by turret and tower; 
 
 It seemed it were fleeing from some fiendish foe 
 
 That came from behind. Clustering clouds hang- 
 ing low 
 
 As if they would fain touch the earth with their 
 weight. 
 
 107 
 
'Twas dangerous now to be out such a night 
 As this was; and yet I could hear, not far off, 
 The voices of men as they passed quickly by 
 My window. But I, in my room, sat alone. 
 
 I thought not of solitude that had grown old 
 In all those long nights that I passed thus alone. 
 My thoughts were of him who had written to me: 
 " At nine I will be with you if God will permit. " 
 
 The clock said 8.30 and still I must wait 
 One long half an hour. Aweary and worn 
 I threw myself down on a chair just to rest. 
 O'ercome by fatigue, peaceful sleep kissed my eyes. 
 
 I dreamed of that loved one whose coming would be 
 
 To me as is heaven to some weary soul, 
 
 I saw him so happy, yet weary and tired, 
 
 As he could well be from the long, cheerless ride. 
 
 In accents so gentle, with face all aglow, 
 I dreamed that he called unto me: " Nellie, come. " 
 I wakened. 'Twas nine, and I sprang to the door, 
 And there stood my lover e'en as I had dreamed. 
 
 My joy was complete, for I knew that he came 
 To leave me no more; no more solitude now. 
 For we shall be married ere winter has flown. 
 My life is all joy since my lover's return. 
 
 CLASS POEM. N. N. U., 1890 
 
 Dear friends and schoolmates, now has come 
 
 The time to separate; 
 
 For us to face the vast unknown, 
 
 To meet our future fate. 
 
 108 
 
A few of us are coming back 
 To school again this fall; 
 Yet, nevermore as classmates dear 
 Shall I meet with you all. 
 
 For some are going home to stay, 
 Their happy schooldays o'er; 
 And some may soon be called away 
 To yonder better shore. 
 The others starting out in life 
 Are free from care to-day; 
 Temptations may beset you all 
 And dark may be your way. 
 
 We know not care nor trouble yet, 
 
 But that will come ere long; 
 
 So we should strive to grow more brave; 
 
 Some day we'll need be strong. 
 
 Sometime we'll need the lessons learned 
 
 Here each and every term; 
 
 The most important one we learned is this 
 
 In what is right be firm. 
 
 Discouraged never, hope, nor shrink, 
 
 Though dark your prospects seem; 
 
 Do what is right and never fear, 
 
 You'll soon see heaven's gleam. 
 
 Be thoughtful, earnest, good, and true, 
 
 In all you say and do; 
 
 You'll win the confidence of men 
 
 And that will help you through. 
 
 But you should have some aim in life, 
 Some noble work to do, 
 
 109 
 
Then strive each day, aye, every hour 
 
 That purpose to pursue. 
 
 Now we that yet remain in school 
 
 Shall often think of you 
 
 And how we formed in days gone by 
 
 Our bond of friendship true. 
 
 To those intending soon to teach, 
 Be careful what you tell, 
 For little ones remember things 
 They've learned in youth quite well. 
 Teach them to study for themselves 
 And not depend on you; 
 It is by far the wiser plan, 
 Their work they'll learn to do. 
 
 And now, dear schoolmates, one and all, 
 
 I think that we should try 
 
 To cultivate our minds and not 
 
 Let time go idly by. 
 
 As faithful students of this school 
 
 It thus appears to me 
 
 That we should show what model men 
 
 And women we can be. 
 
 MOTHER LOVE 
 
 A wee little baby was I once, 
 So black-eyed, fat, and fair, 
 When placed in mother's loving arms, 
 To be her joy and care. 
 
 no 
 
She watched o'er me as none else could, 
 With love and earnest prayer, 
 Until I left my happy home 
 And childish pleasures there. 
 
 Yes, she has been kind and true to me 
 In all my childhood years; 
 And though a woman, still the same 
 She shares my joys and fears. 
 
 Should friends that I deem so stanch prove false, 
 
 Or life seem dark and drear, 
 
 I know that mother clings to me 
 
 Of all earth's friends most dear. 
 
 'Tis true that this world is full of flowers 
 For those to pluck who may; 
 Yet thorns their fragrance mingle 'mong 
 To sting us on our way. 
 
 Yet all of the thorny, tempting blooms, 
 E'en those of sharpest sting, 
 Dim not that valued mother love, 
 For 'tis an holy thing. 
 
 My prayer shall e'er be, blest mother heart, 
 That when temptation lowers 
 I may be strong, its charms resist, 
 For Christ's sake first, then yours. 
 
 in 
 
TO A FRIEND, MRS. S 
 
 Not lightly, like a fallen leaf 
 That gently by the wind is blown, 
 That whirls and flutters in midair, 
 One moment here and then has flown, 
 That only lives one summertime, 
 Then changes garments all so bright 
 To please the eyes of those who see, — 
 Then dies, — not so my love for thee. 
 
 I love thee, not as children love 
 A friend, but for a little while, 
 And then because of childish woe 
 Repulse the friend, reject the smile, 
 Nor love I e'en as maidens love, 
 But for a time and then to choose 
 Another one to take thy place 
 And all thy trust and friendship lose. 
 
 I love thee as true women love; 
 
 With worship, faith, and love combined; 
 
 All these at thy dear feet I lay, 
 
 For thou art queen of womankind. 
 
 And as a subject to her queen, 
 
 I dare not speak such words to thee; 
 
 But, as a friend, I dare to ask 
 
 Wilt thou accept these lines from me ? 
 
 HI 
 
A FAREWELL 
 
 Oh, carest thou aught that I leave thee ? 
 Oh, carest thou, dear, that we part ? 
 Friendship has grown far too sacred 
 For thine ere to fade from my heart. 
 
 Mayest thou be successful and happy 
 In all that thou wilt undertake; 
 Honor, respect, and true friendship, 
 Wilt thou accept, dear, for my sake ? 
 
 So leaving and yet not forgetting 
 That thou wert so kind unto me, 
 Send I, with feelings most grateful, 
 These lines of farewell unto thee. 
 
 I could not, I dared not express them 
 Last night when I bade thee farewell; 
 Read thou the thoughts that I send thee, 
 The thoughts that I wished so to tell. 
 
 " I dared not," meant not that I cared not, 
 This thou couldst have seen at the time; 
 Canst thou read thoughts tho' unspoken ? 
 I would that thou couldst have known mine. 
 
 So now fare thee well. If forever, 
 Then still say I, friend, fare thee well. 
 Mine be the gratitude sent thee. 
 Far more than my tongue e'er can tell. 
 
 "3 
 
TWILIGHT REVERIE 
 
 I am sitting alone in the twilight, 
 I'm dreaming sweet dreams that might be; 
 I'm dreaming of joy and contentment 
 That could have been mine if with thee. 
 
 I loved thee more fondly, my darling, 
 Than ere thou couldst hope or I tell. 
 Thy absence was but my one sorrow. 
 I know that I loved thee too well. 
 
 For fate hath decreed we should sever, 
 That thou shouldst be taken from me. 
 But fate shall forbid us to ever 
 Forget our true love, — 'tis to be. 
 
 Though years intervene and though sorrow 
 Has furrowed thy brow and touched mine, 
 Yet years cannot change the heart's longing, 
 The longing of mine and of thine. 
 
 New ties may be formed and new friendships, 
 But none will be dear as the old; 
 My heart will e'er cherish thy memory, 
 Though others thy arms will enfold. 
 
 Another may woo thee and win thee, 
 And fate smile and say " 'tis to be. " 
 Yet none can remember and love thee 
 As truly as I have loved thee. 
 
 114 
 
THE ANGEL'S PRAYER 
 
 'Twas the angels up in heaven 
 That alone heard Annie say: 
 " O dear Jesus, may my brother 
 Come to me from earth away ? 
 
 He is young and life's temptations 
 Are too great for him to bear; 
 O dear Saviour, will you hearken 
 Unto this, my feeble prayer?" 
 
 But the Saviour gently answered : 
 " He is all your parent's joy. 
 Would you not spare them this sorrow, 
 Would you not leave them their boy ?" 
 
 For a moment Annie pondered, 
 Then this answer to Him gave: 
 " From temptation's luring power 
 My dear brother I would save. 
 
 " For a time he'd leave the parents, 
 Soon they'll follow to this land; 
 Then they'll find their children waiting, 
 Waiting for them hand in hand. 
 
 " They will miss and mourn for brother, 
 But they soon will think of me 
 And be glad he is in heaven 
 Safe from sin, from sorrow free. " 
 
 IJ 5 
 
So He sent an angel spirit 
 
 To that home where brother lay; 
 
 No one heard the angel whisper: 
 
 " Come, sweet child, with me away. " 
 
 As the parents watched the loved one 
 No one saw the spirits go; 
 No one saw them as they journeyed 
 Side by side from earth below. 
 
 Now two little graves are lying 
 Covered o'er with flowers white; 
 And in heaven angels welcomed 
 Two sweet spirits to their light. 
 
 O dear parents, He hath taken 
 What he loaned thee for a day; 
 But you'll gather 'gain your jewels, — 
 Not in yours but God's own way. 
 
 DRIFTED APART 
 
 Dark the night and cold and stormy, 
 Loud the roaring blast I heard; 
 All within my room was silence, 
 Fear prevented e'en a word. 
 
 When at last the storm was over, 
 Mary came and knelt by me, 
 Raised her face and sadly whispered: 
 ' Let me live, dear Jane, with thee. 
 
 116 
 
For my life is sad and dreary; 
 Love and joy are mine no more; 
 All my vows of love are broken, 
 All my happy dreams are o'er. 
 
 Though I loved so truly, fondly, 
 Though I worshiped at his shrine, 
 Yet, dear sister, hath another 
 Claimed the place which once was mine. 
 
 'Twas ambition that did part us, 
 Naught but longing for great fame; 
 Longing, working, hoping, striving, 
 But to gain a glorious name. 
 
 Breathing vows of love we parted 
 Not for years to meet again; 
 Then we had the one assurance 
 That we faithful could remain. 
 
 But our paths became divided; 
 And work claimed us as its own; 
 Soon our letters grew much shorter, 
 Ere we thought that love had flown. 
 
 But to-day did he come hither. 
 When I glanced into his face, 
 Did my heart beat faster, louder, 
 Ah, no love I there could trace. 
 
 Calmly, then, as true friends only 
 Spoke we of the days gone by; 
 Spoke we of our first emotion, 
 Talked and laughed without a sigh. 
 
 117 
 
But, dear sister, when he left me 
 Fast the bitter tears did flow; 
 For my love had been but sleeping, 
 Now but sorrow do I know. 
 
 For I love him, oh, so fondly, 
 Yet that love he could not guess, 
 For my eyes were bright and sparkling, 
 And my lips did not confess. 
 
 He has gone; the farewell's spoken; 
 I am left with none but you. 
 He will claim a fairer sweetheart 
 Who to him may be more true. 
 
 So, dear sister, would I give you 
 All the love 'twere mine to give; 
 Share your joy; help bear your sorrow, 
 With you evermore would live. 
 
 TO THE BLIND 
 
 Live thy life nobly, not pause to regret. 
 No life so happy but grief may come yet. 
 Sorrow hath touched thee. Affliction is thine, 
 But for some purpose. Be brave, friends of mine. 
 
 Roses the sweetest have thorns that may sting; 
 Lives that are noblest have sad songs they sing; 
 Hearts that are truest have ached day by day; 
 Sorrow and joy are companions alway. 
 
 118 
 
What hath Dame Fortune allotted to thee 
 Since she forbade thee the bright world to see ? 
 Health beyond value of jewels or gold; 
 Wisdom and judgment thy talents to mould. 
 
 What though the sunlight thou canst not now see ? 
 Warmth of its rays is still given to thee. 
 Songs of the birds that are fluttering near, 
 God in His wisdom permits thee to hear. 
 
 Flowers for thee lend their fragrance so sweet, 
 Tho' their bright colors thine eyes do not greet; 
 Some of all beauties to thee nature sends, 
 Blessing thee, cheering thee, with all it lends. 
 
 Dearest of all is the friendship that's thine, 
 Friendship when true is a gift most divine. 
 So despair not. Thou hast much cause for praise. 
 God, when 'tis best, will thy dark curtain raise. 
 
 Dream in thy darkness. God's hand hides the 
 
 light. 
 Love for mankind and thy God makes life bright. 
 Patience will lighten the darkest despair. 
 God's will be done. Make this sweet thought thy 
 
 prayer. 
 
 119 
 
OUR FLAG 
 
 Off with your hats, boys, for there floats our flag, 
 The flag of our freedom, our emblem of pride. 
 The flag we defended with glory and grit, 
 When friend and when foe marched along side by 
 side. 
 
 'Midst sorrow and suffering, 'midst death and 
 
 disease, 
 'Midst trials and turmoils, they gave up their lives; 
 For dearer to them was our country all free 
 Than children and home and their sweet loving 
 
 wives. 
 
 Those brave noble wives in their homes left so lone 
 Fought battles unknown to the soldier at war; 
 Fought doubt and despair (lest their loved ones 
 
 might fall) 
 Yet sent cheerful words to their husbands afar. 
 
 The sight of our flag made each soldier's heart beat; 
 Its stars and its stripes meant real freedom for all; 
 So boldly they marched and more bravely they 
 
 fought 
 And nobly they died that their flag might not fall. 
 
 Then since 'twas that emblem of red, white, and blue 
 That gave them such courage their victory to gain, 
 We'll place it on housetops, in homes and in schools, 
 To wave everywhere and honored remain. 
 
 120 
 
SOMETIME 
 
 Sometime, when years have passed away 
 And darkened locks have turned to gray, 
 When all your present hopes are fled, 
 Though love for me you think long dead, 
 Perchance your heart will then recall 
 The wife who loved, who gave her all 
 To live with you, dear, side by side, — 
 Who once was called your happy bride. 
 
 Some day, our child perhaps may be 
 The one to bring you back to me, 
 When, through temptation, you are taught 
 That what seems golden may be naught. 
 Your wandering feet may tire some day, 
 Back to my heart your love may stray; 
 You'll find me waiting, dear, for you; 
 Though years go by, I'll still be true. 
 
 Sometime, dear heart, when death draws near 
 
 Thy form, my heart has held so dear, 
 
 If none there be to say farewell, 
 
 If none with you and death dare dwell, 
 
 You need not close your eyes alone; 
 
 For then I'll come, I'll come, my own. 
 
 At death I'll kneel at your dear side. 
 
 Through life, through death, I am your bride. 
 
 121 
 
CRAZY UINTAH OF THE ROCKIES 
 
 I was not always as you see. 
 
 I loved in vain. 'Twas not for me 
 
 To win my loved, my dusky squaw. 
 
 Another chief had won by law; 
 
 The number of the herd was named 
 
 And strips of wampum. Then I blamed, 
 
 I cursed sad fate that said me nay; 
 
 That gave me not my bridal day. 
 
 For days and nights I pondered long; 
 No charm for me had dance or song; 
 I knew that she for him would sing, 
 To him, my foe, her love would bring. 
 And so, one dark and dismal day, 
 When from our camp he went away, 
 I softly crept to her dear side; 
 I slew, then kissed, his promised bride. 
 
 I hastened 'way to meet the men 
 As from their hut they came; and then 
 By one sly thrust I struck him dead. 
 Not one had seen or turned a head. 
 Ere long the corpse of her was found, 
 And his dead body on the ground. 
 They could not prove the guilt on me. 
 Since then I've wandered wildly free. 
 
 They say that grief has turned my brain 
 Because I know not joy or pain; 
 Because no wigwam shelters me; 
 'Neath skies of blue I'd rather be. 
 
 122 
 
Nor do I talk wh tcomrades gay; 
 One comrade stole my love away. 
 So I, Uintah, am called wild, 
 Though I am naught but nature's child. 
 
 ALONE 
 
 I was happy in my childhood, 
 
 In the days of years gone by; 
 
 For my home was 'midst the flowers, 
 
 Where the brook flowed swiftly by, 
 
 In the fields and through the wildwoods, 
 
 On its long and winding way 
 
 To the ocean, wide and boundless, 
 
 Where the waves roll night and day. 
 
 Then my brothers and my sisters 
 Gathered round the fireside wide, 
 In the long, cold winter evenings, 
 With our parents by our side. 
 One by one our group grew smaller; 
 One by one we left that home; 
 And the childish pleasures vanished 
 As we o'er this earth did roam. 
 
 And the aged father, mother, 
 Lone and wearied, slept at last 
 In that cold and silent slumber; 
 And for them earth's toils were past. 
 Now with age my eyes are dimming; 
 And not far I see the shore 
 Where with parents, sisters, brothers, 
 I shall join the throng once more. 
 
 123 
 
A SPRINGTIME DAY 
 
 The feathered songsters now have come, 
 And two by two they build their home; 
 And prating, mating, nesting now, 
 While chirping forth love's sweetest vow. 
 The budding clover climbs and spreads 
 And covers earth with fragrant beds; 
 The bursting buds of growing green 
 Reveal the dainty hues between. 
 The drowsy breezes bring to sight 
 A falling snow of petals white. 
 The warm winds blowing over all, 
 And all green growing, fragrant, tall, 
 Proclaim the fact that spring is here, — 
 The beauty season of the year. 
 The world, — a song for poets to sing; 
 The earth, — a poem for peasant and king. 
 Nor pen nor brush can quite portray 
 The beauties of a springtime day. 
 
 MY BABE 
 
 I look in thine eyes so blue, my babe, 
 Deep in their azure light: 
 But thou hast not one glance for me, 
 One glance from those eyes so bright. 
 
 The light of the gas fire charms thee now; 
 Oh, tell! What dost thou see ? 
 Will sorrow soon cease and joy return 
 As of old to me and thee ? 
 
 124 
 
Oh, canst thou not see a path of peace 
 In which thy feet may tread ? 
 Or must thy ways be dark as mine ? 
 If so, thou wert better dead. 
 
 Oh, smile once again, my baby dear; 
 That heaven-sent smile retain; 
 Tho' mother must weep, smile whilst thou can; 
 Too soon life will bring its pain. 
 
 Oh, that I could hold thee to my heart 
 And shield thee now and alway; 
 So great my love, thou knowest not, 
 But thou, dear, wilt know some day. 
 
 WHY GRIEVE ? 
 
 Poor wounded heart, why grieve thou so ? 
 Earth's pain is not for aye; 
 The grief that seems so bitter now 
 Will leave thy heart some day, 
 
 And leave thee better, wiser far, 
 Than hadst thou shed no tears; 
 Then drink the cup that's given thee, 
 But banish bitter fears. 
 
 Rebellious heart, why fight thou so ? 
 This trial is not for naught; 
 Then seek its mission; learn from it 
 The lesson to be taught. 
 
 125 
 
Thou failest when thou seeest not 
 Its mission, gift divine; 
 No burden comes that is too great; 
 God knew the strength was thine. 
 
 Know to each heart no burden comes 
 But brings a blessing, too; 
 Trust in thy God who sendeth both 
 Life's roses with the rue. 
 
 Reveal thy strength to conquer this; 
 To bear this trial, thy task; 
 Thrust not from thee this bitter cup, 
 Nor lighter burden ask. 
 
 " Thy will, not mine," Christ drank the cup. 
 
 O bitter heart, don't grieve; 
 
 Be brave. Arise above thy trials, 
 
 And God will help. Believe. 
 
 THE PATTER OF BABY'S FEET 
 
 Go where she will the mother hears 
 
 The baby's feet that patter 
 
 And clatter on the floor; 
 
 Nor could she wish them silent, 
 
 And that their noisy tramp was o'er. 
 
 Go where she will they follow still, 
 First tramping close behind her, 
 Then trotting on before; 
 And falling, sometimes, often, 
 Upon the parlor rug or floor. 
 
 126 
 
And as the weary mother wipes 
 Away the childish teardrops, 
 And soothes the baby fears, 
 Her face reveals a careworn look, 
 And not far off are signs of tears. 
 
 But if that babe were cold in death, 
 And baby steps were silenced, 
 The prattle of those feet 
 (That now are scarcely silent) 
 Were stilled beneath a winding sheet, 
 
 The mother's heart would long for noise 
 Of baby feet to patter; 
 Her tear-dimmed eyes would meet 
 No childish glance; she'd sadly list 
 To hear those baby feet. 
 
 THE BRIDGE 
 
 I stand on the bridge in the moonlight; 
 The great rolling waves rush below; 
 Their waters all tumbling and tossing, 
 As down to the ocean they flow. 
 
 Each billow seems angry and cruel, 
 Relentlessly fighting its way, 
 Now under, now over companions, 
 Like men in this great lifelong play. 
 
 Life's play ? Aye, a drama pathetic, 
 Where soul crushes soul in its greed; 
 
 127 
 
Where selfishness crowds out the brotherhood 
 Of men who for strength daily plead. 
 
 I see deep below me the seaweeds; 
 Beyond lies the ocean so vast; 
 Is it better to sink 'neath the current 
 Or, oceanward, strive to the last ? 
 
 Is it better to be but an atom 
 Scarce known in life's great boundless deep 
 After years, weary years of life's struggle, 
 Or buried ere eyes have to weep ? 
 
 And yet tear-dimmed eyes have grown brighter, 
 And grief-burdened hearts have grown brave; 
 Each sorrow well met brings a vict'ry 
 That never will come through the grave. 
 
 I see in the pools by the wayside 
 The water at rest, listless, still; 
 For use so unfit, simply stagnant, 
 Like souls that of joy drink their fill. 
 
 Far better to be in the current 
 That bears the whole world to the sea, 
 And share in our hearts others' sorrow, 
 Tho' ofttimes we long to be free. 
 
 Far better a drop in the ocean 
 And a rest in the blue boundless deep, 
 Than a part of the pool, useless, selfish, 
 Though from conflicts and currents we keep. 
 
 128 
 
 
Far bettei to fight through life's journey 
 And feel at the end 'twas worth while; 
 To know that we lifted some burdens, 
 To some weary hearts brought a smile. 
 
 As I watch the waves tumbling and tossing 
 In the still, silent light of the moon, 
 I cast on the current my sorrow 
 And it bears far away all my gloom. 
 
 And I turn to the noise of the city, 
 Ambition renewed once again. 
 The world seems calling me henceforth; 
 The grief-burdened world needs brave men. 
 
 Aye, the world has much need for true workers: 
 And brothers are sinking in sin 
 For the lack of a kind hand to help them. 
 Cannot you and I help them to win ? 
 
 BROTHERHOOD 
 
 (Given at "June banquet of People's Church, 
 Kalamazoo, Michigan.) 
 
 In the midst of a beautiful city 
 Stood a temple both massive and grand; 
 And gathered within were its members; 
 'Twas a free-hearted optimist band 
 
 With their tables temptingly loaded; 
 
 So the hearts of the feasters were filled 
 
 With the joy of reunion fraternal; 
 
 When, all at once, mirth and music were stilled, 
 
 129 
 
For it seemed that the ceiling had opened 
 And an angel appeared to the crowd; 
 In the silence, deep, strange, and unbroken, 
 Did his message resound, though not loud. 
 
 " My dearly beloved, be faithful; 
 To cheer troubled souls be thy pride; 
 Be merciful, loving, forgiving; 
 Make the field for thy labor world wide. 
 
 " Oh, seek not for lives that are idle 
 While thy brothers are sinking in sin; 
 Yield gladly, thy pleasure to help them, 
 To the haven of hope lead them in. 
 
 " While for some there are blessings o'erflowing, 
 For others hard trials, grave fears; 
 Go share in their sorrows; give courage; 
 Go wipe away their bitter tears. 
 
 " Go show them that sorrows grow greater 
 When looked at through hot scalding tears; 
 That fretting ne'er helped us bear burdens 
 Nor lightened the load of our years. 
 
 " Go teach that temptation is gilded 
 And its gloss and its glitter will fade; 
 That sin always brings bitter harvest, 
 And with heartaches the price must be paid. 
 
 " Show that good deeds will bear precious 
 fruitage 
 And we reap only that which we sow 
 And can reap none other. Beloved, 
 Bear this message where ever you go. 
 
 x 3° 
 
" To breathe forth the gospel of kinship 
 Is thy God-given mission while here; 
 To make of this earth one bright heaven; 
 To bring to each heart hope and cheer. 
 
 " Begin at thy fireside thy mission, 
 But ended not there is thy task; 
 One Father makes all men thy brothers; — 
 And brothers thy sympathy ask. 
 
 While teaching this brotherhood, act it; 
 Thy creed and thy deeds must be one. 
 Go, now, from these portals rejoicing 
 In strength for thy good work begun." 
 
 And then the voice ceased. All was silence, 
 For the angel had vanished from sight. 
 The blessing alone had been left them 
 And the mem'ry of that sacred night. 
 
 This story has just been related 
 With a hope that we, too, might be blessed 
 And encouraged to share the world's sorrow, 
 And to give to the weary one rest. 
 
 And now that the verses are finished, 
 And Poesy bids my tongue stay, 
 From our goblets of pure sparkling water 
 Will you drink to the toast I now say ? 
 
 May all sorrow that comes find us willing 
 To bear, and its mission to know; 
 
 x 3i 
 
The rosebush with thorns has sweet flowers, 
 And our burdens bring good ere they go. 
 
 If worthy, may our pleasures be many; 
 As we give may it come back again; 
 May the Father of love guard and guide us 
 In the hours of pleasure and pain. 
 
 May the friendship that binds us be sacred; 
 And the golden rule be our one creed, 
 With Jesus alone our example; 
 Then all will be brothers indeed. 
 
 FINIS 
 
 At last I have come to the ending; 
 
 A token of love was my aim; 
 
 Sweet songs and great paeans you may find not, 
 
 If sought for, attached to my name. 
 
 I fear not the world's condemnation, 
 I challenge no praise, neither blame; 
 But send forth my volume of verses 
 Not written for money or fame. 
 
 I sought but the danger of daring 
 In book form to please but my own; 
 And that being done win their plaudits; 
 My efforts and aims they have known. 
 
 My rhymes may be vain and imperfect, 
 Success a delusion, a dream; 
 And yet there was pleasure in writing 
 These poems, tho' crude they may seem. 
 
 132 
 
Go forth, little book, with my message; 
 Seek those who are lonely to-day, 
 Since I and my darling are wand'ring, 
 And in that home nest do not stay. 
 
 " Will grandpa and grandma both like it ?" 
 My baby is asking of me, 
 While watching my pen on the paper, 
 And smiles in her innocent glee. 
 
 As these final words I am writing, 
 Her blue eyes are meeting my brown; 
 "Don't write any more now dear mamma," 
 I obey, and I lay my pen down. 
 
 !33 
 
' 
 
 * 
 
WOV 5 1907 
 
• **% • 
 
 
 
 
 
 r oK 
 
 o <^> *.,., & °<u °*° a «^ •* 
 
 -* T rt\\ v»f? f/V\ - *0» <X 
 

 >*V °. 
 
 \5f=£lr N - MANCHESTER, 
 ^tss^ INDIANA 46962