jLIBRilRY OF CONGRESS.? # % I- /S7^ J I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. \ POEMS. POEMS. BY MRS. JULIA C&^R.>^ORR, AUTHOR OP "sibyl HUNTINGTON," ETC. PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1872. \ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., In the Office of the Librarian of Consrress at Washington. DEDICATORY. Because, O best beloved, thou hast been So much to me these many, many years ; The charmed circle of thy love within Holding me safe from woman's bitterest tears; Because thy strength, in many an hour of need, Has been my sure support, my constant stay, — • No sword to wound me, and no broken reed. But a strong tower to shelter me alway; Because thy heart still answers to my own. Though young Romance we buried long ago. What time Life's burdens were upon us thrown. And its June roses lost their crimson glow ; Because, — but, ah ! I do not need to tell Why at thy feet I drop these humble lays ; For in thy heart of hearts thou knowest well Whose love makes beautiful my summer days ! (V) CONTENTS. PACK Proem II The Dead Century 13 Over the Wall 22 A Few Words 24 Vashti's Scroll 25 Elsie's Child 34 Without and Within 41 Hereafter 43 Maud and Madge 45 The Bell of St. Paul's 47 Lenora 49 Hymn to Life , 50 A Dead Love 52 Faith 54 Hymn — (For the Opening of a Reform School) 54 Margery Grey 56 My Friends 62 The Pine-Trees 65 November 67 Hilda, Spinning 68 Outgrown 71 A Picture , 74 The Pilgrim 76 A Mother's Answer 77 The Dream-Land Grave 78 For a Silver Wedding 79 " Earth to Earth" 81 At the Gate 83 The Cherry-Tree 84 ( vii ) viii CONTENTS. PAGE What my Friend said to Me 87 Three White Mice 87 Questionings 89 Hymn. — No. i — (For the Dedication of a Cemetery) 90 Hymn. — No. 2 — (For the Dedication of a Cemetery) 91 Night and Morning 92 Maturity 95 Peace 97 Yesterday and To-Day 98 De Profundis 100 In the Garden loi The Humming-Bird 103 A Song for Two 104 Once ! 105 What I Lost 107 The Chimney Swallow 108 Catharine no Heirship in Agnes 113 My Mocking-Bird 115 Under the Palm-Trees 117 Hymn — (For an Installation) 118 Weariness 120 Ode — (For the Dedication of a Music-Hail) 121 " Lord, save or I perish" 122 Never Again 123 The Name 125 Life 126 Christmas, 1863 126 Centennial Poem 127 The Three Ships 137 The Ghost 140 " Into Thy Hands" 141 December 26, 1910 142 From Baton Rouge 146 The Vermont VcJlunteers 148 May 6, 1864 152 Drifted Apart 1^4 The Drummer Boy's Burial 155 Charley of Malvern Hill 159 Supplicamus 161 CONTENTS. ix PAGE The Last of Six 163 A Memory 167 Our Flags at the Capitol 168 1865 170 Waiting for Letters 172 Idle Words 173 Incompleteness 174 Coming Home 179 Hidden Away 181 Wakening Early 182 Nellie's Mother 183 So Long 185 Blest 186 Four Years 187 Then and Now 188 Remembrance i8g A Vision 190 PROEM. No words of wondrous power are mine, No spells to charm the listening throng; I do not hope to join the ranks Of those who breathe immortal song. Nor would I, with irreverent tread, Approach the altars where they stand. The mighty masters, laurel-crowned. Each with the palm-branch in his hand. Ah ! rather would I veil my face, And kneel afar in humblest awe; As he who, trembling and afraid, The glory of Mount Sinai saw. But not the eagle, only, soars From its lone eyrie to the sun ; The lark springs from its grassy nest. And sings, ere day has well begun. And not the Pole star, only, burns Through the long watches of the night; Yon tiny spark, far off and dim, Sends meekly forth its little light. (") PROEM. And not the Queen Rose, only, lends Its rich breath to the summer air; Ten thousand small, sweet censers swing In field and woodland everywhere. And not before the All-Father's throne Do seraph voices, only, rise; The babe that died an hour ago Now joins the anthem of the skies. And though I may not hope to clothe Profoundest thought in stately rhyme, Nor breathe the burning words that pass From age to age, from clime to clime : Yet God and Nature bid me sing, Albeit my notes are faint and few; I dare not question nor refuse, But humbly strive their will to do. And it may be my simple songs May reach some weary, world-worn ear, And soothe some heart that could not bear A louder, loftier strain to hear. THE DEAD CENTURY. 1770-1870. Lo ! we come Bearing the Century, cold and dumb ! Folded above the mighty breast Lie the hands that have earned their rest ; Hushed are the grandly-speaking lips; Closed are the eyes in drear eclipse ; And the sculptured limbs are deathly still, Responding not to the eager will, As we come Bearing the Century, cold and dumb ! Lo ! we wait ' Knocking here at the sepulchre's gate ! Souls of the ages passed away, A mightier joins your ranks to-day ; Open your doors and give him room. Buried Centuries, in your tomb ! For calmly under this heavy pall Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all, While we wait At the sepulchre's awful gate ! III. Yet — pause here Bending low o'er the narrow bier ! (13) 14 rilE DEAD CENTURY. Pause ye awhile and let your thought Compass the work that he hath wrought ; Look on his brow so scarred and worn ; Think of the weight his hands have borne; Think of the fetters he hath broken, Of the mighty words his lips have spoken Who lies here Dead and cold on a narrow bier ! Ere he goes Silent and calm to his grand repose, — While the Centuries in their tomb Crowd together to give him room, Let us think of the wondrous deeds Answering still to the world's great needs. Answering still to the world's wild prayer, He hath been first to do and dare ! Ah ! he goes Crowned with bays to his last repose. V. When the earth Sang for joy to hail his birth, Over the hilltops, faint and far, Glimmered the light of Freedom's star. Only a poor, pale torch it seemed — Dimly from out the clouds it gleamed — Oft to the watcher's eye 'twas lost Like a flame by fierce winds rudely tossed. Scarce could earth Catch one ray when she hailed his birth ! THE DEAD CENTURY. VI. But ere long His young voice, likea clarion strong, Rang through the wilderness far and free, Proi)liet and herald of Good to be ! Then with a shout the stalwart men Answered proudly from mount and glen, Till in the brave, new, western world Freedom's banners were wide unfurled ! And ere long The Century's voice, like a clarion strong, Cried, "O Earth, Pagans sing for a Nation's birth ! Shout hosannas, ye golden stars. Peering through yonder cloudy bars ! Burn, O Sun, with a clearer beam ! Shine, O Moon, with a softer gleam ! Join, ye winds, in the choral strain ! Swell, rolling seas, the glad refrain. While the Earth Pagans sings for a Nation's birth !" Ah ! he saw — This young prophet with solemn awe — How after weary pain and sin, Strivings without and foes within. Fruitless prayings and long suspense, And toil that bore no recompense, — After peril and blood and tears, Honor and Peace should crown the vears ! 15 1 6 THE DEAD CENTURY. This he saw While his heart thrilled with solemn awe. His clear eyes Gazing forward in glad surprise, Saw how our land at last should be Truly the home of the brave and free ! — Saw from the old world's crowded streets, Pestilent cities and close retreats, Forms gaunt and pallid with famine sore Flee in hot haste to our happy shore, Their sad eyes Widening ever in new surprise. From all lands Thronging they come in eager bands ; Each with the tongue his mother spoke ; Each with the songs her voice awoke ; Each with his dominant hopes and needs, Alien habits and varying creeds. Bringing strange fictions and fancies they came. Calling old truths by a different name, When the lands Sent their sons hither in thronging bands. XI. But the Seer — This dead Century lying here — Rising out of this chaos, saw Peace and Order and Love and Law ! Saw by what subtle alchemy THE DEAD CENTURY. Basest of metals at length should be Transmuted into the shining gold, Meet for a king to have and hold. Ah ! great Seer ! I'his pale Century lying here ! So he taught Honest freedom of speech and thought ; Taught that Truth is the grandest thing Painter can paint, or poet sing; Taught that under the meanest guise It marches to deeds of high emprise ; Treading the paths the prophets trod Up to the very mount of God ! Truth, he taught, Claims full freedom of speech and thought. XIII. Bearing long Heavy burdens of hate and wrong. Still has the arm of the Century been Waging war against crime and sin. Still has he plead Humanity's cause; Still has he prayed for equal laws ; Still has he taught that the human race Is one in des})ite of hue or place, Even though long It has wrestled with hate and wrong. XIV. And at length — A giant arising in his strengtli — 17 1 8 THE DEAD CENTURY. The fetters of serf and slave he broke, Sniiting them off by a single stroke ! Over the Muscovite's waste of snows, Up from the fields where the cotton grows. Clearly the shout of deliverance rang, When chattel and serf to manhood sprang, As at length The giant rose up in resistless strength. XV. Far apart — Each alone like a lonely heart — Sat the Nations, until his hand Wove about them a wondrous band ; Wrought about them a mighty chain Binding the mountains to the main ! Distance and time rose dark between Islands and continents still unseen. While apart None felt the throb of another's heart. XVI. But to-day Time and space hath he swept away ! Side by side do the Nations sit By ties of brotherhood closer knit ;— Whispers float o'er the rolling deep; Voices echo from steep to steep ; — Nations speak, and the quick replies Fill the earth and the vaulted skies ; For to-day Time and distance are swept away. THE DEAD CENTURY. If strange thrills Quicken Rome on her seven hills ; If afar on her sultry throne India wails and makes her moan ; If the eagles of haughty France Fall as the Prussian hosts advance, All the continents, all the lands, Feel the shock through their clasped hands, And quick thrills Stir the remotest vales and hills. XVIII. Yet these eyes. Dark on whose lids Death's shadow lies. Let their far-reaching vision rest Not alone on the mountain's crest ; Nor did these feet with stately tread Follow alone where the Nations led ; Nor these pale hands, so weary-worn. Minister only where States were born. These clear eyes, Soft on whose lids Death's slumber lies, XIX. Turned their gaze Earnest and pitiful, on the ways Where the poor, burdened sons of toil Earned their bread amid dust and moil. Saw the dim attics where, day by day, Women were stitching their lives away. 19 20 THE DEAD CENTURY. Bending low o'er the slender steel Till heart and brain began to reel, And their days Stretched on and on in a dreary maze. XX. Then he spoke; Lo ! at once into being woke Muscles of iron, arms of steel. Nerves that never a thrill could feel ! Wheels and pulleys and whirling bands Did the work of the weary hands, And tireless feet moved to and fro Where the aching limbs were wont to go. When he spoke And all his sprites into being woke. XXI. Do you say He was no saint who has passed away ? Saint or sinner, he did brave deeds Answering still to Humanity's needs ! Songs he hath sung that shall live for aye ; Words he hath uttered that ne'er shall die ; Richer the world than when the earth Sang for joy to hail his birth, Even though you say He was no saint whom we sing to-day. XXII. Lo ! we come Bearing the Century, cold and dumb ! THE DEAD CENTURY. Folded above the mighty breast Lie the hands that have earned their rest ; Hushed are the grandly-speaking lips ; Closed are the eyes in drear eclipse ; And the sculptured limbs are deathly still, Responding not to the eager will, As we come Bearing the Century, cold and dumb ! XXIII. Lo ! we wait Knocking here at the sepulchre's gate ! Souls of the Ages passed away, A mightier joins your ranks to-day ; Open your doors, ye royal dead, And welcome give to this crowned head ! For calmly under this sable pall Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all, While we wait At the sepulchre's awful gate ! XXIV. Give him room Proudly, Centuries ! in your tomb. Now that his weary work is done Honor and rest he well hath won. Let him who is first among you pay Homage to him who comes this day, Bidding him pass to his destined place, Noblest of all his noble race ! Make ye room For the kingly dead in the silent tomb ! OVER THE WALL. OVER THE WALL. I KNOW a spot where the wild vines creep, And the coral moss-cups grow, And where, at the foot of the rocky steep. The sweet blue violets blow. There all day long, in the summer-time, You may hear the river's dreamy rhyme; There all day long does the honey-bee Murmur and hum in the hollow tree. And there the feathery hemlock makes A shadow cool and sweet, While from its emerald wing it shakes Rare incense at your feet. There do the silvery lichens cling. There does the tremulous harebell swing; And many a scarlet berry shines Deep in the green of the tangled vines. Over the wall at dawn of day. Over the wall at noon, Over the wall when the shadows say That night is coming soon, A little maiden with laughing eyes Climbs in her eager haste, and hies Down to the spot where the wild vines creep. And violets bloom by the rocky steep. OVER THE WALL. 23 All wild things love her. The murmuring bee Scarce stirs when she draws near, And sings the bird in the hemiock-tree Its sweetest for her ear. The harebells nod as she passes by, The violet lifts its calm blue eye, The ferns bend lowly her steps to greet, And the mosses creep to her dancing feet. Up in her pathway seems to spring All that is sweet or rare, — Chrysalis quaint, or the moth's bright wing, Or flower-buds strangely fair. She watches the tiniest bird's-nest hid The thickly clustering leaves amid j And the small brown tree-toad on her arm Quietly hojDs, and fears no harm. Ah, child of the laughing eyes, and heart Attuned to Nature's voice ! Thou hast found a bliss that will ne'er dejjart While earth can say, "Rejoice!" The years must come, and the years must go ; But the flowers will bj^om, and the breezes blew. And bird and butterfly, moth and bee. Bring on their swift wings joy to thee ! ' 24 A PEW WORDS. A FEW WORDS. Oh, faithful friend of other days ! My grateful heart would speak to thee j Turn from thy far-off busy ways, And listen as of old to me. I fain would speak, yet know not how: A gulf, impassable as death, Lies, broad and deep, between us now — Thou canst not hear my feeble breath ! But once within the silent void I'll drop a blossom, fair and sweet; From out the darkness unalloyed Some power may bear it to thy feet. Its name is Gratitude. Thy heart Will tell thee in what soil it grew; What influence bade the flower-bud start, Watered by tears, instead of dew. Could I but give it voice, O friend, And bid it for my sealed lips speak ! But ah ! even then I could not send Thee half my thought, for words are weak; Too weak to tell thee how I keep Thy memory in my inmost heart Not a pale corse that lies asleep. But throned and crowned, of life a part. VASIiri'S SCROLL. I write no word, I sing no song, That does not bring thee back to me; Oh, thou whose wisdom made me strong, How much I owe to God and thee ! And as the swift-winged years fly past, Methinks I miss thee more and more; Be patient, oh, my heart ! At last We'll meet upon the farther shore. Farewell ! My lot is deeply blest ; May thine be just as bright, I pray; May kind Earth give thee of her best, And Heaven be near to thee alway ! 25 VASHTI'S SCROLL. Dethroned and crownless, I so late a queen ! Forsaken, poor and lonely, I who wore The crown of Persia with such stately grace ! But yesterday a royal Avife; but now From my estate cast down, and fallen so low That beggars scoff at me ! Men toss my name Backward and forward on their mocking tongues. In all the king's broad realm there is not one To do poor Vashti homage. Even the dog My hand had fondled, in the palace walls Fawns on my rival. When I left the court, Weeping and sore distressed, he followed me, Licking my fingers, leaping in my face, And frisking round me till I reached the gates. Then with long pauses, as of one perplexed, 3 26 VASHTPS SCROLL. And frequent lockings backward, and low whines Of puzzled wonder, — that had made me smile If I had been less lorn,— with drooping ears, Dropt eyes, and downcast forehead he went back, Leaving me desolate. So went they all Who, when Ahasuerus on my brow Set his own royal crown and called me queen. Made the air ring with plaudits! Loud they cried, "Long live Queen Vashti, Persia's fairest Rose, Mother of Princes, and the nation's Hope!" The rose is withered now; the queen is dead. To these poor breasts no princely boy shall cling, And I shall hold no ciarling on my knee, To love as son and reverence as king ! A poor, dishonored thing ! Yet on this scroll I will rehearse the story of my woes; And when I die, held closely to my heart, Or clasped in stiffened fingers, it shall go To the tomb with me. Then perchance some one, In the far future years of which they tell. Shall find the yellow parchment, and with eyes Wet with sad tears, shall read my cruel fate. O ! thou unknown, unborn, who through the gloom And mists of ages in my vaulted tomb Shalt find this parchment, and with reverent care Shalt bear it outward to the sun and air: O ! thou whose patient fingers shall unroll With slow, persuasive touch this little scroll, — O, loving, tender eyes that, like twin stars, I seem to see through yonder cloudy bars, — Read Vashti' s story, and I pray ye tell The whole wide world if she did ill or well ! VASHTPS SCROLL. 27 Ahasiierus reigned. On Persia's throne, Lord of a miglUy realm, he sat alone. And stretched his sceptre from the farthest slope Of India's hills, to where the Ethiop Dwelt in barbaric splendor. Kinglier king Never did poet praise or minstrel sing ! He had no peers. Among his lords he shone As shines a planet, single and alone; And I, alas! I loved him! Crowned queen, Clasping the sceptre my small hands between, I might have reigned, yet kept a heart as free As this light breeze that sweeps the Persian sea! But, ah ! I loved my king— the kingly man Forth at whose call my glad heart quickly ran Owning its lord and master. Oh ! we two Such bliss as peasant lovers joy in, knew! No lowly home in all our wide domain Held more of peace than ours, or less of pain. But one dark day— O, woeful day of days ! Whose hours I number now in sad amaze. Thou hadst no prophet of the ills to be, Nor sign nor omen came to succor me ! — That day Ahasuerus smiled and said, " Since first I wore this crown upon my head llirice have the emerald clusters of the vine Changed to translucent globes of ruby wine; And thrice the peaches on the loaded walls Have slowly rounded into wondrous balls Of gold and crimson. I will make a feast. Princes and lords, the greatest and the least. All Persia and all Media, shall see The pomp and splendor that encompass me. The riches of my kingdom shall be shown, And all my glorious majesty made known 28 VASHTFS SCROLL. Where'er the shadow of my sceptred hand Sways a great people with its mute command!" Then came from far and near a hurrying throng Of skilled and cunning workmen. All day long And far into the silent night, they wrought Most quaint and beautiful devices — still Responsive to their master's eager will, And giving form to his creative thought — • Till Shushan grew a marvel ! Never yet Yon rolling sun on fairer scene has set : The palace windows were ablaze with light ; And Persia's lords were there, most richly dight In broidered silks, or costliest cloth of gold, That kept the sunshine in each lustrous fold, Or softly flowing tissues, pure and white As fleecy clouds at noonday. Clear and bright Shone tlie pure gold of Ophir, and the gleam Of burning gems, that mocked the pallid beam Of the dim, wondering stars, made radiance there. Radiance undreamed of, and beyond compare ! Up from the gardens floated the perfume Of rose and myrtle, in their perfect bloom; The red pomegranate cleft its heart in twain. Pouring its life blood in a crimson rain; The slight acacia waved its yellow plumes. And afar off amid the starlit glooms Were sweet recesses, where the orange bowers Dropt their pure blossoms down in snowy showers. And night reigned undisturbed. From cups of gold Diverse one from another, meet to hold The king's most costly wines, or to be raise To princely lips, the gay guests drank, and praised VASHTPS SCROLL. 29 Their rich abundance. Softest music swept Through the vast arches, till men smiled and wept For very joy. Then slowly keeping time To the gay cymbal's clearly ringing chime, Stole down the long arcades the dancing-girls; Some with dark, braided tresses, some with curls Like golden sunbeams, floating unconfined Save by the wreaths amid their brightness twined. And softly rounded limbs, that rose and fell To the voluptuous music's dreamy swell, So full of subtle power, it seemed to be The voice of passion and of mystery ! Wild waxed the revel. On an ivory throne Inlaid with ebony and gems that shone With a surpassing lustre, sat my lord, The King Ahai?lierus. His great sword, Blazing with diamonds on hilt and blade, — The mighty sword that made his foes afraid, — And the proud sceptre he was wont to grasp, ^^'ith all the monarch in his kingly clasp. Against the crouching lions (guard that kept On either side the throne and never slept), Leaned carelessly. And flowing downward o'er The ivory steps even to the marble floor, Swept the rich royal robes in many a fold Of Tyrian purple flecked with purest gold. The heavy crown his head refused to wear. More fitly crowned by its own clustering hair, Lay on a pearl-wrought cushion by his side, Mute symbol of great Persia's power and pride ; While on his brow some courtier's hand had placed The fairest chajjlet monarch ever graced, 3* 3° VASHTFS SCROLL. A wreath of dewy roses, fresh and sweet, Just brought from out the garden's cool retreat. Louder and louder grew the sounds of mirth ; Faster and faster flowed the red Avine forth ; In high, exulting strains the minstrels sang The monarch's glory, till the great roof rang; And flushed at length with pride and song and wine, The king rose up and said, " O nobles mine ! Princes of Persia, Media's hope and pride, Stars of my kingdom, will ye aught beside ? Speak ! and I swear your sovereign's will shall be On this fair night to please and honor ye !" Then rose a shout from out the glittering throng Drowning the voice of merriment and song. Humming and murmuring like a hive of bees — What would they more each charmed sense to please ? Out spoke at last a tongue that should have been Palsied in foul dishonor there anei then. " O great Ahasuerus ! ne'er before Reigned such a king so blest a people o'er ! What shall we ask? What great and wondrous boon To crown the hours that fly away too soon ? There is but one. 'Tis said that mortal eyes Never yet gazed, in strange yet sweet surprise, Upon a face like that of her who wears Thy signet-ring, and all thy glory shares, — Our fair Queen Vashti, she who yet shall be Mother of him who reigneth after thee ! Show us her royal beauty ! Naught beside Can fill our cup of happiness and pride." A murmur ran throughout the startled crowd. Swelling at last to plaudits long and loud. VASHTPS SCROLL. Maddened with wine, they knew not what they said. Ahasuerus bent liis haughty head, And for an instant o'er his face there swept A look his courtiers in their memory kept For many a day — a look of doubt and pain, They scarcely caught ere it had passed again. " My kingly word is pledged." Then to the seven Lord chamberlains to whom the keys were given : " Haste ye, and to this noble presence bring Vashti, the Queen, with royal crown and ring; And let the people see the matchless charms That Heaven has sent to bless my kingly arms." They did their errand, those old, gray-haired men. Who should have braved the lion in his den. Or ere they bore such message to their queen. Or took such words their aged lips between. What ! I, the daughter of a kingly race. Step down, unblushing, from my lofty place, And, like a common dancing-girl, who wears Her beauty unconcealed, and, shameless, bares Her brow to every gazer, boldly go Before those men my unveiled face to show ? I — who had kept my beauty pure and bright Only because 'twas precious in his sight. Guarding it ever as a holy thing. Sacred to him, my lover, lord, and king, — Could I reveal it to the curious eyes Of the mad rabble that with drunken cries Were shouting " Vashti ! Vashti !" — Sooner far, Beyond the rays of sun, or moon, or star, I would have buried it in endless night ! Pale and dismayed, in wonder and affright, My maidens hung around me as I told Those seven lord chamberlains, so gray and old, 32 VASHTI'S SCROLL. To bear this answer back : "It may not be. My lord, my king, I cannot come to thee. It is not meet that Persia's queen, like one Who treads the market-place from sun to sun, Should bare her beauty to the hungry crowd, Who name her name in accents hoarse and loud." With stern, cold looks they left me. Ah ! I knew If my dear lord to his best self were true, That he would hold me guiltless, and would say, " I thank thee, love, that thou didst not obey!" But the red wine was ruling o'er his brain ; The cruel wine that recked not of my pain. Up from the angry throng a clamor rose ; The flattering sycophants were now my foes; And evil counsellors about the throne. Hiding the jealous joy they dared not own. With slow, wise words, and many a virtuous frown. Said, " Be the queen from her estate cast down ! Let her not see the king's face evermore, Nor come within his presence as of yore ; So disobedient wives through all the land Shall read the lesson, heed and understand." Up spoke another, eager to be heard, In royal councils fain to have a word, " Let this commandment of the king be writ, In the law of the Medes and Persians, as is fit, — The perfect law that man may alter not Nor of its bitter end abate one jot." Alas ! the king was wroth. Before his face I could not go to plead my piteous case ; But, pitiless, with scarce dissembled sneers, And poisoned words that rankled in his ears. My wily foes, afraid to let him pause. Brought the great book that held the Persian laws, VASHTFS SCROLL. And ere the rising of the morrow's sun, My bitter doom was sealed, the deed was done. Scarce had two moons passed when one dreary night I sat within my bower in woeful plight, Weary and heartsick, as one well might be Who trod the wine-press all alone, like me, When suddenly upon my presence stole A muffled form, whose shadow stirred my soul I knew not wherefore. Ere my tongue could speak, Or with a cry the brooding silence break, A low voice murmured, " Vashti !" With a bound Of half-delirious joy, upon the ground At the king's feet I fell. Oh ! scorn me not. If for one moment, all my wrongs forgot, I only saw the sun that gave me light. Breaking once more the darkness of my night ! It was but for a moment. Pale and still. Hushing my heart's cry with an iron will, "What will the king?" I asked. No answer came. But to his sad eyes leaped a sudden flame ; With clasping arms he raised me to his breast And on my brow and lips such kisses pressed As man may give his dead — long, sad, and slow, Blent with great, shuddering sighs, the overflow Of pent-up agony and direst need ! Breathless, ere long, and trembling like a reed, I crept from out his bosom. It could be Ah ! nevermore a fitting place for me ! But when I saw the anguish in his eyes, My tortured love burst forth in tears and cries. How could I live, and bear my bitter doom, Thrust from the heart that should have been my ^ 33 34 ELSIE'S CHILD. Then were his lips unsealed. I cannot tell All the wild words that I remember well. Oh ! was it joy or was it pain to know That not alone I wept my weary woe ? Alas ! I know not. But I know to-day — If this be sin, forgive me, Heaven, I pray ! — That though his eyes have never looked on mine Since that sad night in bower of eglantine. And fair Queen Esther sits, a beauteous bride, In stately Shushan at the monarch's side, The king remembers Vashti, even yet Breathing her name sometimes with vain regret, Or murmuring, haply, in a whisper low, * ' Woe for the heart that loved me long ago ! ' ' ELSIE'S CHILD. A LEGEND OF SWITZERLAND. "Come and sit beside me, Elsie, — put your little wheel away, — Have you quite forgotten, darling wife, this is our wed- ding-day?" Elsie turned her bright face towards him, fairer now than when a bride ; But she did not cease her spinning while to Ulric she replied : ELSIE'S CHILD. 35 *' No, I have not quite forgotten; all day long my happy brain Has been living o'er the moments of that blessed day "I will come and sit beside you when the twilight shadows fall; Vou shall sing me some old love-song, while the darkness covers all. **But while golden sunbeams linger in the vale and on the hill, Ask me not to bid the music of my merry wheel be still." "If its humdrum notes are sweeter than thy husband's voice to thee. Mind thy spinning, Madam Elsie, — do not come to sit with me!" "Don't be angry with me, Ulric; see, the sun is almost down. And its last red rays are gilding the far steeples of the town. "I will come to you directly, and will kiss that frown away, — You must not be angry, Ulric, for this is our wedding- day." "If it were not, I should care not that you will not come to me; But this evening! prythee, Elsie, let that tiresome spin- ning be!" 36 ELSIE'S CHILD. "Why, to-morrow is the fair-day, do you not remember, dear? I must spin a little longer; 'tis the last skein I have here. "On the wall are others hanging, very fine and soft are they, And for them old Father Maurice will his money gladly pay." "You can buy a silken bodice, and a ribbon for your hair, Or a hooded crimson mantle, — they will make you very fair! "Or a necklace sparkling grandly, or a kerchief bright and gay, — Yonder Henri drives the cows home, I will join him on the way." "Oh, no, Ulric, do not leave me!" cried she, springing to his side, "I have done my weary spinning, and the last knot I have tied. "Come with me, within the cottage, where our Hugo lies asleep, Never saw you rest as placid as his slumber soft and deep. ' ' How the flaxen ringlets cluster round his forehead broad and white ! Saw you ever, dearest Ulric, half so beautiful a sight ? ELSIE'S CHILD. 37 "Now, if you will smile upon me, just as you were wont to do, "\^'hile we sit here in the moonlight, I'll a secret tell to you. "I shall buy no silken bodice, and no necklace grand and gay; I'm a wife and mother, darling, and I've put such things away. "But a coat for little Hugo — of bright scarlet it shall be, Trimmed with braid, and shining buttons, and the richest broiderie. "Lady Alice, at the castle, soon will give her birthday fete, And last night I chanced to meet her, as I passed the western gate. "She was walking with her maidens, but she bent her stately head, Kissed our little Hugo's forehead, as she sweetly smiled, and said : "'Bring him to the castle, Elsie, lovelier boy was never seen, — Bring him with you, on my fete-day, to the dance upon the green.' "So, to-morrow, dearest Ulric, you must surely go with mc. And I'll buy, for little Hugo, just the j^rettiest coat I see ! " 4 38 ELSIE'S CHILD. "There, my Hugo, you are ready, run out now before the door, And I'll come to join my little one, in just five minutes more. "How the scarlet coat becomes him! Ulric, do but see him now, As he shakes his head, and tosses back the light curls from his brow." "What a vain young mother, Elsie! from the window come away, You'll have time enough to glory in your pretty pet to- day. "Bind up now your own bright tresses; here are roses sweet and rare. With the dew still lingering on them, — you must put them in your hair. ' ' You must wear the scarf I gave you, and the bracelets, — and I ween That my Elsie '11 be the fairest one that dances on the green." "Which is now the vainest, Ulric, tell me, is it you or I? I'll be ready in a minute; look if you can Hugo spy. "It may be that he will wander where the purple berries grow ; For the world I would not have him, they will stain his new coat so." ELSIE'S CHILD. 39 "Elsie ! Elsie !" In a moment rose and scarf were dashed aside, And she stood within the doorway, — ''Where is Hugo?" then she cried. "I have traced his little footsteps Avhere the purple ber- ■*• ries shine, But I can see nothing of him; do not tremble, Elsie mine. "Very likely he has wandered towards the castle; for he knew — Little wise one! — we were going, and that he was going too. ' "We will find him very quickly, — he cannot have strayed away ; It is not five minutes, darling, since you bade him go and play." All day long they sought for Hugo, — sought him utterly in vain, — Sought him midst the rocks and glaciers, and beneath , them, on the plain. From the castle Lady Alice sent her servants far and wide ; Mirth was lost in bitter mourning, and the voice of music died. Through the day the air resounded with the little lost one's name. And at night, with myriad torches, hills and woods were all aflame. 40 ELSIE'S CHILD. But they found not pretty Hugo; where the purple ber- ries grew, They could see his tiny footsteps, — but they nothing fur- ther knew. III. "Henri! Henri! don't be gazing at the eagle's nest all day; Long ago you should have started forth, to drive the cows away. ' ' "But come here one moment, mother, just one moment; can you see Naught that flutters like a banner when the wind is blow- ing free?" "Oh, my eyes are dim and aged," was the withered crone's reply ; "You must look yourself, good Henri, for I nothing can espy. ' ' "Then do you come here, Enrica; does my sight deceive me so? You can see it, I am certain, when the wind begins to blow." But Enrica' s cheek grew pallid, and she turned her eyes away, Crying, "Elsie, my poor Elsie !" It was all that she could say. For within that lofty eyrie, on the mountain's craggy height, Hung the coat of little Hugo, gleaming in the morning light. WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 41 \\\\.\\ its hue of brilliant scarlet, just as bright as bright could be, With its gayly shining buttons, and its rich embroiderie ! Months and years rolled slowly onward, — Elsie's sunny hair turned gray. And the eagles left the eyrie to its desolate decay. But, alas! whene'er the sun ghone, and the wind was blowing free, Something fluttered like a banner, which no eye could bear to see ! WITHOUT AND WITHIN. SoF'iLY the gold has faded from the sky, Slowly the stars have gathered one by one, Calmly the crescent moon mounts up on high. And the long day is done. With quiet heart my garden-walks I tread, Feeling the beauty that I cannot see; Beauty and fragrance all around me shed By flower, and shrub, and tree. Often I linger where the roses pour Exquisite odors from each glowing cup; Or where the violet, brimmed with sweetness o'er. Lifts its small chalice up. 4'' 42 WITHOUT AND WITHIN. With fragrant breath the lilies woo me now, And softly speaks the sweet-voiced mignonette, While heliotropes, with meekly lifted brow, Say to me, "Go not yet." So for awhile I linger, but not long. High in the heavens rideth fiery Mars, Careering proudly 'mid the glorious throng, Brightest of all the stars. But softly gleaming through the curtain's fold, The home-star beams with more alluring ray, And, as a star led sage and seer of old. So it directs my way; And leads me in where my young children lie, Rosy and beautiful in tranquil rest ; The seal of sleep is on each fast-shut eye. Heaven's peace within each breast. I bring them gifts. Not frankincense nor myrrh, — Gifts the adoring Magi humbly brought The young child, cradled in the arms of her Blest beyond mortal thought ; But love — the love that fills my mother-heart With a sweet rapture oft akin to pain ; Such yearning love as bids the tear-drops start And fall like summer rain. And faith — that dares, for their dear sakes, to climb Boldly, where once it would have feared to go, And calmly standing upon heights sublime. Fears not the storm below. HEREAFTER. 43 And prayer. O God ! unto thy throne I come, Bringing my darlings, — but I cannot speak. With love and awe oppressed, my lips are dumb: Grant what my heart would seek ! HEREAFTER. O LAND beyond the setting sun ! O realm more fair than poet's dream ! How clear thy silvery streamlets run, How bright thy golden glories gleam ! Earth holds no counterpart of thine ; The dark-browed Orient, jewel-crowned. Pales as she bows before thy shrine, Shrouded in mystery so profound. The dazzling North, the stately West, Whose rivers flow from mount to sea ; The South, flower-wreathed in languid rest, — What are they all, compared with thee? All lands, all realms beneath yon dome. Where God's own hand hath hung the stars. To thee with humblest homage come, O world beyond the crystal bars ! Thou blest Hereafter ! Mortal tongue Hath striven in vain thy speech to learn. And Fancy wanders, lost among The flowery paths for which we yearn. 44 HEREAFTER. i» But well we know that fair and bright, Far beyond human ken or dream, Too glorious for our feeble sight, Thy skies of cloudless azure beam. We know thy happy valleys lie In green repose, supremely blest ; We know against thy sapphire sky Thy mountain-peaks sublimely rest. And sometimes even now we catch Faint gleamings from thy far-off shore, And still with eager eyes we watch For one sweet sign or token more. For, oh, the deeply loved are there ! The brave, the fair, the good, the wise, Who pined for thy serener air. Nor shunned thy solemn mysteries. There are the hopes that, one by one. Died even as we gave them birth ; The dreams that passed ere well begun. Too dear, too beautiful for earth. The aspirations, strong of wing, Aiming at heights we could not reach ; The songs we tried in vain to sing ; The thoughts too vast for human speech ; Thou hast them all. Hereafter ! Thou Shalt keep them safely till that hour When, with God's seal on heart and brow, We claim them in immortal power ! MAUD^AND MADGE. 45 MAUD AND MADGE. Maud in a crimson velvet chair Strings her pearls on a silken thread, While, lovingly lifting her golden hair, Soft airs wander about her head. She has silken robes of the softest flow, She has jewels rare and a chain of gold. And her two white hands flit to and fro. Fair as the dainty toys they hold. She has tropical birds and rare perfumes ; Pictures that speak to the heart and eye; For her each flower of the Orient blooms, — FoV her the song and the lute swell high ; But daintily stringing her gleaming pearls She dreams to-day in her velvet chair. While the sunlight sleeps in her golden curls, Lightly stirred by the odorous air. Down on the beach, when the tide goes out, Madge is gathering shining shells ; The sea-breeze blows her locks about ; O'er bare brown feet the white sand swells. Coarsest serge is her gown of gray, Faded and torn her apron blue, And there in the beautiful, dying day The girl still thinks of the work to do. 46 MAUD AND AIADGE. Stains of labor are on her hands, Lost is the young form's airy grace; And standing there on the shining sands You read her fate in her weary face. Up with the dawn to toil all day For meagre fare and a place to sleep ; Seldom a moment to dream or play, ^"^ Little leisure to laugh or weep. Beautiful Maud, you think, maybe, Lying back in your velvet chair. There is naught in common 'twixt her and thee,- You scarce could breathe in the self-same air. But ah ! the blood in her girlish heart Leaps quick as yours at her nature's call. And ye, though moving so far apart. Must share one destiny after all. Love shall come to you both one day. For still must be what aye hath been ; And under satin or russet gray Hearts will open to let him in. Motherhood with its joy and woe Each must compass through burning pain, — You, fair Maud, with your brow of snow, Madge with her brown hands labor-stained. Each shall sorrow and each shall weep. Though one is in hovel, one in hall ; Over your gold the frost shall creep. As over her jet the snows will fall. Exquisite Maud, you lift your eyes At Madge out yonder under the sun ; And yet, I trow, by the countless ties Of a common womanhood ye are one. THE BELL OF ST. PAUL'S. ^j THE BELL OF ST. PAUL'S. Like the great bell of St. Paul's, which only sounds when the King is dead." Toll ! toll, thou solemn bell ! A royal head lies low, And mourners through the palace halls Slowly and sadly go. Lift up thine awful voice, Thou, silent for so long ! Say that a monarch's soul has passed To join the shadowy throng. Sound yet again, thou bell ! Mutely thine iron tongue. Prisoned within yon high church-tower, For many a year has hung. Now, while thy mournful peal Startles a nation's ear, The echo rings from shore to shore, That the whole world may hear. A whisj)er from tlie past Blends with each solemn tone That from those brazen lips of thine Upon the air is thrown. Never had trumpet's peal, ■ Or ''clarion wild and shrill," 48 THE BELL OF ST. PAUL'S. Such power as that low undertone The listener's heart to thrill. Come, tell us tales, thou bell, Of those of old renown, Those sturdy warrior kings who fought For sceptre and for crown ! Tell of the Lion-heart Whose pulses moved the world ; Of her whose banners flew so far O'er land and sea unfurled ! From out the buried years — From many a royal tomb, Whence neither pomp nor power could chase The dim, sepulchral gloom, Lo ! now a pale, proud line, They glide before our eyes ! — Art thou a wizard, mighty bell. To bid the dead arise ? Toll on ! toll on, thou bell ! Once more lift up thy voice, Though never yet did peal of thine Bid human hearts rejoice ! Solemn and stern thou art. In silence and in pride. Ne'er lifting up thy thunder tones Save when a king has died. Yet they to whom a world Has bowed in reverence. And on their graves poured gushing tears Of voiceless eloquence, — LEND R A. Kings in the realm of mind, Princes in that of thought, \<\\o for themselves, by word and deed, Immortal names have wrought, — Have to the dust gone down. And thou, O haughty bell, For these — old England's kingliest sons — Tolled no funereal knell ! Ah ! happier far than thou In all thy silent pride, The humblest village bell that rings For bridegroom and for bride ; That calls the babe to baptism, The weary soul to prayer, And tolls when loved ones spring from earth To heaven's serener air ! 49 LENORA. I KISSED thy child last night, Lenora, And in kissing her, kissed thee, Though between our hearts, Lenora, Rolls a darkly silent sea. Though between our lips, Lenora, Damp and chill the veil may be ! Yet the kiss I left, Lenora, On the sweet lips of thy child, Thrilled through all ni)' frame, Lenora, Made my heart beat (juick and wild, 5 5° HYMN TO LIFE. Brought my boyhood back, Lenora, For I saw thee when she smiled ! And did not thy breast, Lenora, Heave beneath its snowy shroud, When I clasped thy child, Lenora, And my lips to hers were bowed. While with passionate prayer, Lenora, Thy sweet name I called aloud ? No one answered me, Lenora ! Only those pure, wondering eyes Gazed upon mine own, Lenora, With a look of grieved surprise. As an angel might, Lenora, On a mortal's tears and siehs ! HYMN TO LIFE. Ah, Life, dear Life, how beautiful art thou! All day sweet, chiming voices in my heart Have hymned thy praises joyfully as now. Telling how fair thou art ! This morn, while yet the dew was on the flowers, They sang like skylarks, soaring while they sing; This noon, like birds within their leafy bowers, Warbling with folded wing. nVMX TO LIFE. 51 Slow fades the twilight from the glowing west, Antl one pale star hangs o'er yon mountain's brow; With deeper joy, that may not be repressed, O Life, they hail thee now ! And not alone from this poor heart of mine Do these glad notes of grateful love ascend ; Voices from mount and vale and woodland shrine In the full chorus blend. The young leaves feel thy presence and rejoice The while they frolic with the wanton breeze; And pxans sweeter than a seraph's voice Rise from the swaying trees. Each flower that hides within the forest dim. Where mortal eye may ne'er its beauty see, Waves its light censer, while it breathes a hymn In humble praise of thee. Through quivering pines the gentle south winds stray. Singing low songs that bid the tear-drops start; And thoughts of thee are in each trembling lay. Thrilling the listener's heart. Old Ocean lifts his solemn voice on high. Thy name, O Life, repeating evermore, While sweeping gales and rushing storms reply From many a far-off shore. The stars are gathering in the darkening skies, 15ut our dull ears their music may not hear, Tliough, while we list, their swelling anthems rise l^xultingly and clear! 52 A DEAD LOVE. Linger thou with me yet a little while! Ah ! leave me not until my work is done ! Take not from me the glory of thy smile Till I the goal have won ! Earth is so beautiful ! She weareth still The golden radiance of life's early day; Still Love and Hope for me their chalice fill, Oh, turn not thou away ! A deep voice answers to my earnest prayer; Through every fibre of my frame it thrills; A wondrous presence all the trembling air With solemn glory fills ! Not thine, O Life! One mightier far than thou- He who ordained the path that thou hast trod- Says to my soul, while thus I humbly bow, "Be still— for I am God!" A DEAD LOVE. It is dead, Waiting here for its narrow bed ! Bring ye the face-cloth snowy white, Over the forehead its chill folds lay ; Never again shall it meet my sight Till it rises up at the judgment-day ! Lay it low. Under the sods where the violets grow ! A DEAD LOVE. Hide it away in tlie darksome earth, This [)ale clay that was once so dear; Yesterday of such priceless worth, — What is it worth now — lying here? Dumb and cold, No soul sleeps in the marble mould ! Yet, for the sake of what hath been, Smooth ye its grave with reverent care; Speak no word of its pain or sin, While o'er the dead I breathe a prayer. Will it rise. Haunting me with its solemn eyes? Will it come when the night grows deep, Troubling me in my silent room? With it shall I dread vigils keep — It and my soul in the awful gloom? No ! ah, no ! Soul of mine, it shall not be so! Dead and buried, I roll a stone Unto the door of the sepulchre. There Rest, O sleeper, whose cry or moan Never acain shall vex the air! 53 54 FAITH. FAITH. The young child trembles at the brooding darks, And shrinks, and cowers, and dare not lift its eyes. Lest it should see some awful form arise, And for some dread alarm it ever harks. Yet if it may but touch its father's hands, It bravely walks along the darksome way, Fearing the night no more than broadest day While close beside that faithful friend it stands. So when the path grows dark that I must tread ; When my poor soul sees not which way to go, And may not life's mysterious windings know, Clasping my Father's hand I will not dread The gathering shadows, but in deepest night Walk calmly on, "by faith," if not "by sight." HYMN, FOR THE OPENING OF A REFORM SCHOOL. Floating through the misty twilight Of the half- forgotten years. Hark ! a solemn voice and tender Falls to-day upon our ears. HYMN. Thine, () Christ! and as we listen, Lo ! thy loving face we see, And thy lips are still repeating, " Feed my lambs, if ye love me!" "Feed my lambs!" Our Lord and Master, We are here thy will to do ; Far the wayward ones have wandered ; We will find them pastures new. From the mountains, cold and dreary, — From the forests, dark and deep, — Where Ihe way is long and lonely, And the paths are rough and steep, — We will call them. Yet our voices It may be they will not know ; Thou must speak, O tender Shepherd, Speak in accents soft and low ! They are thine, however widely They have wandered from thy side ; When thou callest they will answer; - Son of God, be thou their guide ! 55 56 MARGERY GREY. MARGERY GREY. A LEGEND OF VERMONT. Fair the cabin-walls were gleaming in the sunbeams' golden glow On that lovely April morning, near a hundred years ago; And upon the hxmible threshold stood the young wife, Margery Grey, With her fearless blue eyes glancing down the lonely forest way. In her arms her laughing baby with its fother's dark hair played, As he lingered there beside them leaning on his trusty spade ; "I am going to the wheat-lot," with a smile said Robert Grey; "Will you be too lonely, Margery, if I leave you all the day?" Then she smiled a cheerful answer, ere she spoke a single word, And the tone of her replying was as sweet as song of bird ; "No," she said, "I'll take the baby, and go stay with Annie Brown ; You must meet us there, dear Robert, ere the sun has quite gone down." MARGERY GREY. 57 Thus they parted. Strong and sturdy all day long he labored on, Spading up the fertile aeres from the stubborn forest won ; And when lengthening shadows warned him that the sun was in the west, Down the woodland aisles he hastened, whispering, "Now for home and rest !" But when he had reached the clearing of their friend, a mile away. Neither wife nor cliild was waiting there to welcome Robert Grey. "She is safe at home," said Annie, "for she went an hour ago. While the woods were still illumined by the sunset's crim- son glow." Back he sped, but night was falling, and the path he scarce could see; Here and there his feet were guided onward by some deep- gashed tree; When at length he gained the cabin, black and desolate it stood, Cold the hearth, the windows rayless, in the stillest soli- tude. With a murmured prayer, a shudder, and a sob of anguish wild, Back he darted through the forest, calling on his wife and child. Soon the scattered settlers gathered from the clearings far and near, And the solemn woods resounded with their voices rising clear. 58 MARGERY GREY. Torches flared, and fires were kindled, and the horn's long peal rang out, While the startled echoes answered to the hardy wood- man's shout ; But in vain their sad endeavor, night by night, and day by day; For no sign nor token found they of the child or Margery Grey ! Woe! woe for pretty Margery! With her baby on her arm On her homeward way she started, fearing nothing that could harm; With a lip and brow untroubled, and a heart in utter rest. Through the dim woods she went singing to the darling at her breast. But in sudden terror pausing, gazed she round in blank dismay, — Where were all the white-scarred hemlocks pointing out the lonely way? God of Mercies ! She had wandered from the pathway ! not a tree, Giving mute but kindly warning, could her straining vision see ! Twilight deepened into darkness, and the stars came out on high; All was silent in the forest, save the owl's low, boding cry; Round about her in the midnight stealthy shadows softly crept. And the babe upon her bosom closed its timid eyes and sle]jt. MARGERY GREY. 59 Hark ! a shout! and in the distance she could see a torch's gleam ; But, alas! she could not reach it, and it vanished like a dream ; Then another shout,— another ! but she shrieked and sobbed in vain, Rushing wildly toward the presence she could never, never gain. Morning came, and with the sunbeams hope and courage rose once more; Surely ere another nightfall her long wanderings would be o'er; So she soothed the wailing baby, and when faint from want of food, Ate the wintergreens and acorns that she found within the wood. O the days so long and dreary 1 O the nights more dreary still! More than once she heard the sounding of the horn from hill to hill; More than once a smouldering fire in some sheltered nook she found. And she knew her husband's footprints close beside it on the ground. Dawned the fourth relentless morning, and the sun's un- pitying eye Looked upon the haggard mother, looked to see the baby die; All day long its plaintive meanings wrung the heart of Margery Grey, All night long her bosom cradled it, a pallid thing of clay. 6o MARGERY GREY. I'hree days more she bore it with her, on her rough and toilsome way, Till across its marble beauty stole the plague-spot of de- cay; Then she knew that she must leave it in the wilderness to sleep, ^Vhere the prowling wild beasts only watch above its grave should keep. Dumb with grief she sat beside it. Ah ! how long she never knew ! Were the tales her mother taught her of the dear All- Father true, When the skies were brass above her, and the earth was cold and dim, And when all her tears and pleadings brought no answer down from Him? But at last stern Life, the tyrant, bade her take her burden up,— To her lips so pale and shrunken pressed again the bitter cup; Up she rose, still tramping onward through the forest flir and wide. Till the May-flowers bloomed and perished, and the sweet June roses died ! Till July and August brought her fruits and berries from their store; Till the golden-rod and aster said that summer was no more ; Till the maples and the birches donned their robes of red and gold ; Till the birds were hasting southward, and the days were growing cold. MARGERY GREY. Ol Was she doomed to roam forever o'er the desolated earth, She, the last and only being in tliose wilds of human birth? Sometimes from her dreary pathway wolf or black bear turned away, But not once did human presence bless the sight of Mar- gery Grey. One chill morning in October, when the woods were brown and bare. Through the streets of ancient Charlestown, with a strange, bewildered air. Walked a gaunt and pallid woman, whose disheveled locks of brown O'er her naked breast and shoulders in the wind were streamintf; down. Wondering glances fell upon her; women veiled their modest eyes. Ere tliey slowly ventured near her, drawn by pitying sur- prise. "'Tis some crazy one," they whispered. Back her tan- gled hair she tossed, "O kind hearts, take pity on me, for I am not mad, but lost!" Then she told her piteous story, in a vague, disjointed way, And with cold white lips she murmured, "Take me home to Robert Grey !" 6 62 MY FRIENDS. "But the river?" said they, pondering. " We are on the eastern side; How crossed you its rapid waters? Deep the channel is, and wide. ' ' But she said she had not crossed it. In her strange, erratic course, She had wandered far to nortliward, till she reached its fountain source In the dark Canadian forests, — and then, blindly roam- ing on, Down the wild New Hampshire valleys her bewildered feet had gone. O the joy-bells! sweet their ringing on the frosty autumn air ! O the boats across the waters ! how they leaped the tale to bear! O the wondrous golden sunset of the blest October day When that weary wife was folded to the heart of Robert Grey! MY FRIENDS. I've no great nor titled friends — Lords nor dames of high degree ; Grandeur ne'er my steps attends. Rank nor glory compass me. Throwing wide my garden's gate. Courtiers ne'er its paths explore; And no liveried footmen wait At my humble cottage-door. A/y FRIENDS. 63 Yet at pensive eventide, When the day's long toil is past, And from wanderings far and wide Thought comes home to rest at last ; When the firelight, leaping high, Brightens all the quiet room. And the startled shadows fly, Bearing off the dusky gloom ; Then — a brave and noble band — Over mount and over sea. And from out the "summer-land," Come my friends to sit with me. Heads with bay-wreaths greenly: crowned ; Hands that clasp the victor's palm; Presences that all around Shed a most unearthly calm : Chaucer, wearing on his face All the freshness of the morn ; Dreamy Spenser, whose rare grace Far in faerie-land was born ; Milton, grand, majestic, blind, Yet seeing God by inner sight ; Shakspeare, in the realm of mind Crowned king by kingly right ; Dante, with uplifted brow. And a sadly royal mien ; Camoens praising, soft and low, "Sweetest eyes were ever seen;" Keats, to whom the springtime brought All the glory of the year. And whose dying strains were caught By the angels listening near; 64 MY FRIENDS. Wordsworth, in serenest calm, Holding converse with the skies ; Cowper, singing some low psalm, Set to human harmonies^ Byron, still forlornly proud. In his desolate disdain; Shelley, dreaming of his shroud. By the blue Italian main, — These — and others. All ! the place Seems a temple grand and fair. To whose lofty, vaulted space Priest and priestess still repair ! Sappho with her golden lyre, Crowned Corinna's kindling cheek, Pale Aspasia's eye of fire, Saintly Heloise, strong, yet meek, Hemans, breathing changeful strains, Half of joy, and half of woe; L. E. L., whose song contains Just a fond heart's overflow; Our own Margaret's lifted face, Wearing still its queenly dower; Sorrowing Bronte's quiet grace. Veiling such transcendent power. Ah, another! — priestess, seer. Bay-wreathed poet, three in one, — Star-crowned angel, singing clear, Where there is no need of sun, — Thou whose Florence mourns thee still Less as woman than as saint, — Whose Aurora's voice can thrill With new life hearts long a-faint, — THE riNE- TREES. Need I name thee? () beloved! Friends of mine, tlirougli good or ill; Others fail me — ye are proved — Time nor change your hearts can chill! Ye who being dead yet speak, Ye afar and yet most near; Let your words the silence break. And my soul runs quick to hear ! THE PINE-TREES. O SOLEMN pines, now dark and still. When last I stood beneath your shade, Strange minstrels on their airy harps Among your trembling branches played. That wild, weird music ! now the strain Gushed forth triumphantly and clear, — Now like a living voice it seemed. Wailing and moaning in my ear! Beneath my feet the village lay As calmly as a child asleep, While, like stern guards, the mountains round Seemed o'er its rest close watch to keep. Like burnished gold, the high church-spire In the last red light of sunset gleamed; And from each far-off window-pane A flood of dazzling radiance streamed. 6-^ 66 THE PINE-TREES. And softly, emerald banks between, The river glided on its way, Nor paused where cedars darkly wave, Nor loitered where the mill-wheels play. The western skies were all aflame, — A rosy mist hung o'er the hills, — And leaping down the mountain-side, Sparkled and flashed the murmuring rills. 'Twas a fair scene, and while I gazed. The cloudlets donned a soberer hue, And suddenly a smgle star Shone tremblingly amid the l)lue. And I, a glad, light-hearted girl. Beneath your shade, O stately trees. Bared my young brow and waving hair To meet the kisses of the breeze. Again, as in the long ago. The pine boughs wave above my head, But, ah ! the light and loveliness And glory of the scene have fled ! The sky is now a leaden gray ; The stream an icy chain hath bound ; And here and there a snow-wreath lies Upon the dark and frozen ground. The winds are out — the shivering trees Lift their bare branches high in air. And wildly toss their arms aloft, Like giants writhing in despair! NOVEMBER. 67 Afar yet near the church-yard lies; No chisteriiig leaves conceal it now; Through blinding tears new mounds I see, New graves where I in prayer must bow. But not to grieve o'er buried hours Sought I your shade to-day, ye pines, Though many a bright and fadeless wreath Fond memory round each crest entwines. For, even while with murmuring lips Ye whisper of the past to me, A quiet home 'mid clustering trees. As in a vision, I can see, — A home where childhood's merry laugh Blends with the song of bird and bee,' Where my heart finds serenest rest. Where love-lit eyes now watch for me ! NOVEMBER. Fie upon thcc, November! thou dost ape The airs of thy young sisters; — thou hast stolen 'I'he witching smile of May to grace thy lip. And April's rare, capricious loveliness Thou 'rt trying to put on ! Dost thou not know vSuch freaks do not become thee? Thou shouldst be A staid and sober matron, (juietly Laying aside the follies of thy jouth, 68 HILDA, SPINNING. And robing thee in that cahii dignity Meet for the handmaid of tlie dying year. But, ah! thou art a sad coquette, although The frost of age is on thee ! Thou dost sport With every idle breeze that wooeth thee; And toy and frolic with the aged leaves That flutter round thee. Unto every low, Soft murmur of the brooklet, thou dost lend A willing ear; and crowning thy pale brow With a bright coronet that thou hast woven Of the stray sunbeams summer left behind, Thou dost bend o'er it lovingly, and strive To answer in a cadence clear and sweet As spring's first whispers! In the valley now The flowers have faded, and the singing-birds Greet thee no longer when thou wanderest forth Through the dim forest; and yet thou dost smile. And skip as lightly o'er the withered grass, As if thou hadst not decked thee in the robes That thy dead sisters wore in festal hours ! HILDA, SPINNING. Spinning, spinning, by the sea, All the night ! On a stormy, rock-ribbed shore, Where the north winds downward pour. And the tempests fiercely sweep From the mountains to the deep, Hilda spins beside the sea. All the night ! HILDA, SPINNIXG. (^g Spinning, at her lonely window, JJy the sea ! With her candle bnrning clear, Every night of all the year. And her sweet voice crooning low, Quaint old songs of love and woe, Spins she at her lonely window, By the sea. On a bitter night in March, Long ago, Hilda, very young and fiiir. With a crown of golden hair. Watched the tempest raging wild, ^\'atched the roaring sea — and smiled Through that woeful night in March, Long ago ! What though all the winds were out In their might ? Richard's boat was tried and true ; Stanch and brave his hardy crew ; Strongest he to do or dare. Said she, breathing forth a prayer, " He is safe, though winds are out In their might !" But at length the morning dawned, Still and clear; Calm, in azure splendor, lay All the waters of the bay; And the ocean's angry moans Sank to solemn undertones. As, at last, the morning dawned, Still and clear ! >iO HILDA, SPINNING. With her waves of golden hair Floating free, Hilda ran along the shore, Gazing off the waters o'er; And the fishermen replied, " He will come in with the tide," As they saw her golden hair Floating free ! Ah ! he came in with the tide, — Came alone ! Tossed upon the shining sands — Ghastly face and clutching hands — Seaweed tangled in his hair — Bruised and torn his forehead fair — Thus he came in with the tide. All alone ! Hilda watched beside her dead, Day and night. Of those hours of mortal woe Human ken may never know; She was silent, and his ear Kept the secret, close and dear, Of her watch beside her dead, Day and night ! What she promised in the darkness. Who can tell ? But upon that rock-ribbed shore Burns a beacon evermore ! And beside it, all the night, Hilda guards the lonely light, Though what vowed she in the darkness. None may tell ! OUTGROWN. Spinning, spinning by the sea, All the night ! While her candle, gleaming wide O'er the restless, rolling tide, Guides with steady, changeless ray The lone fisher up the bay, Hilda spins beside the sea. Through the night ! Fifty years of patient spinning By the sea ! Old and worn, she sleeps to-day, While the sunshine gilds the bay; But her candle, shining clear, Every night of all the year, Still is telling of her spinning By the sea ! 71 OUTGROWN. Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she's not fickle ; her love she has simply outgrown ; One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one's own. Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say, And you know we were children together, have quarreled and "made up" in play. 72 OUTGROWN. And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture to tell you the truth. As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth. Five summers ago, when you wooed her, you stood on the self-same ijlane, Face to face, heart to heart, never dreaming your souls could be parted again. She loved you at that time entirely, in the bloom of her life's early May, And it is not her fault, I repeat it, that she does not love you to-day. Nature never stands still, nor souls either. They ever go up or go down ; And hers has been steadily soaring, — but how has it been with your own ? She has struggled, and yearned, and aspired, — grown purer and wiser each year; The stars are not farther above you, in yon luminous at- mosphere ! For she whom you crowned with fresh roses, down yonder, five summers ago. Has learned that the first of our duties to God and our- selves is to grow. Her eyes they are sweeter and calmer, but their vision is clearer as well ; Her voice has a tenderer cadence, but is pure as a silver bell. OUTGROWN. 73 Her face has the look worn by those who with God and his angels have talked ; The white robes she w'cars are less white than the spirits with w'hom she has walked. And yon? Have you aimed at the highest? Have you, too, aspired and })rayed ? Have you looked upon evil unsullied? have you conquered it undismayed ? Have you, too, grown purer and wiser, as the months and the years have rolled on ? Did you meet her this morning rejoicing in the triumph of victory won? Nay, hear me ! The truth cannot harm you. When to- day in her presence you stood, \\'as the hand that you gave her as white and clean as that of her womanhood? Go measure yourself by her standard. Look back on the years that have fled \ Then ask, if you need, why she tells you that the love of her girlhood is dead ! She cannot look down to her lover; her love, like her soul, aspires ; He must stand by her side, or above her, who would kindle its holy fires. Now, farewell ! For the sake of old friendship I have ventured to tell you the truth, As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth. 7 74 A PICTURE. A PICTURE. A LOVELY bit of dappled green Shut in the circling hills between, While farther off blue mountains stand Like giant guards on either hand. The quiet road in still repose Follows where'er the brooklet flows; And in and out it glides along, Lured by the river's rippling song. Afar, you see the steepled town From yonder hillside looking down ; And sometimes, when the south wind swells, You hear the chiming of its bells. But here, beneath embowering trees. Lulled by the hum of droning bees. The old brown farmhouse seems to sleep. So calm its rest is and so deep. And there, beside the rustic bridge, From which the path climbs yonder ridge. The lazy cattle seek the shade By the umbrageous willows made. The sky is like a hollow pearl. Save where warm sunset clouds unfurl Their flaming colors. Lo ! a star. Even as we gaze, gleams forth afar. A PICTURE. And this is all yon see? The scene Lies fair, you say, these hills between? You'll bear the picture far away, A joy for many a coming day? friend, I see far more ! I see A Presence under every tree ! 1 meet the gleam of earnest eyes Where'er these feathery larches rise. Moving adown the winding road I see the form of one who trod Its light sands many a year ago, I.ured by the brooklet's murmuring flow. His living form. No pallid ghost. No wandering phantom, tempest-tossed ! The grave has given up its dead, With no dark cerecloth round its head ! Crowned with immortal youth he stands. Reaching to me his eager hands ; But yet, methinks, a vague surprise Looks outward from those searching eyes. They take no note of Time who dwell Where blooms the heavenly asphodel, — They grow not old who wander where Life's perfect flower perfumes the air. But ah ! our years are long, and I Have kept count as they floated by ; He and the scene no change have known, Its seal is stamped on me alone ! 75 ^6 THE PILGRIM. THE PILGRIM. 'Tis sweet to rest beneath the pahii-tree's shade, Beside the fountain murmuring in its flow, And hear the rustling by the young leaves made, As the soft breezes fan them to and fro. 'Tis sweet to bare my hot and throbbing brow, And let the cool wind lift my clustering hair; And while earth's twilight tones are hushed and low. The vesper hymn of bird and flower to share. Pleasant to take the sandals from my feet, Wayworn and weary, and with dust defiled ; And, idly lingering in dalliance sweet. Toy with the waters as a sportive child. Oh ! rest is sweet, and sweet this brooding calm, — This silence holier than prayer or psalm ; And sweet the dreams that hover round me here, Making the unattained seem strangely near. But I must on, though long the way and dreary. Though heart grow faint, and brain and feet grow weary : O'er scorching sands, o'er trackless solitudes. Where Danger lurks, and Death forever broods. For far across the desert's sandy waste Lies the fair City to whose walls I haste ; And thitherward I press, my eager eyes Fixed on the point where yet its towers shall rise. .1 MOTHER'S ANSWER. Stately and beauliful and fair to see, — Fair as the morn when night's dim shadows flee ! Not till its myriad glories on me shine, Shall the full right to peaceful rest be mine. 77 A MOTHER'S ANSWER. Which do I love best? Question strange is thine ! Dost ask a mother which she loves the best, Of the fair children that a hand divine In tender love hath lain upon her breast ? Which do I love best? When our first-born came, And his low wailing filled my darkened room, On my soul's altar glowed an incense flame. And light ineffable dispersed the gloom. And since that hour, heart-music rare and sweet Hath floated through my spirit's inmost cell ; Oft hath its low peal given me strength to meet Alike Care's thrall, and Pleasure's luring spell. Now — on my happy breast a babe is nestling. With her dear father's darkly earnest eyes. And soft brown hair upon her forehead resting. And rosebud mouth that smiles in sweet surprise. Her very helplessness doth plead for love ; Yet of no sudden growth mine own hath been ; Taught by an instinct springing from above. The mother loves her child although unseen. 78 THE DREAM-LAND GRAVE. And ere her large, soft eyes had seen the light, I longed to clasp her to my yearning breast; Ah ! God's dear gifts make all my pathway bright, — I cannot tell thee which I love the best ! THE DREAM-LAND GRAVE. I DREAMED last night of a lonely grave With the grass of years o'ergrown, Above it the wind through the shuddering pines Swept with a wailing moan ; A sluggish river rolled slowly by With a slumberous monotone, While down from the depths of the frowning sky One quivering starbeani shone. And I dreamed that over that lonely grave In dumb despair I hung ; No passionate prayer, no yearning cry, Broke from my trembling tongue ; But still through the weary, dreary hours To the desolate mound I clung. And still in my ear, till the morn was gray, The sob of the river rung. O soul of mine ! In that dream-land grave What beautiful hope lay dead ? What dream of my youth lay buried there With the cerecloth round its head ? What love outgrown, or forgotten long, Slept well in that narrow bed ? FOR A SILVER WEDDING. Wliat memory, born of the hallowed past, AVaked not at the tears I shed ? I never may know ! O dream-land grave, Thou keepest thy secret well ! From thy dim, mysterious depths no voice Comes forth thy tale to teli. But still, in a waking dream, I hear The river's sobbing swell. And the wailing wind in the shuddering pines Sounds like a funeral knell ! 79 FOR A SILVER WEDDING. Give us joy to-night, O friends ! Past, for us, the dewy freshness Of life's early morning hours ; Past the Springtime's tender beauty, Pale and dead its first fair flowers. But the Summer's noonday glory Floods the sunny path we tread ; Round us still, from countless censers. Richest sweets are daily shed ! Side by side — together ! Hand in hand — together ! Five-and-twenty years together We have faced life's changeful weather, — Keeping step with one another, — Bearing burdens for each other, — Give us joy ! 3o FOR A SILVER WEDDING. Give us joy to-night, O friends ! By-and-by will come our Autumn, When the crimson leaves will fall, And the birds, so lately tuneful, Will be silent, one and all. But the harvest will be garnered, And our life-work nearly done, And with smiles upon our faces We will watch the setting sun. While the shadows lengthen, Love and Faith shall strengthen, And we'll sit and rest together In the lovely Autumn weather, — Clinging closer to each other. Leaning still on one another, — Give us joy ! Give us joy again, O friends ! What though night must come, and Winter With his breath congealing slow ? Stars will blossom in the darkness, Violets bloom beneath the snow. Five-and-twenty years, O Father, Thou hast led us gently on ; We can trust Thy tender guidance Till the goal at last is won ! And when we reach thine Aidenn, No longer heavy-laden. On the Shining Shore together. Fearing no more stormy weather. We will whisper to each other. Clinging still to one another, - ■ All is joy!" EARTH TO EARTIir 8l "EARTH TO EARTH." Not within yon vaulted toml), With its darkness and its gloom, With its murky, heavy air, And the silence brooding there, Lay me, love, when I must be Hidden far away from thee. Open not the iron door. Oped so oft in days of yore ; Place me not beside the dead, Whose companionship I dread, Where the phantoms come and go, Bending o'er the coffins low. But when one with icy breath In my ear has whispered "death," When the heart thy voice can thrill. Has grown pulseless, cold, and still, Kneel beside me, o'er me bow, Press thy last kiss on my brow. Lay me then to dreamless rest. With the sod above my breast. In some quiet, sheltered spot. Peaceful as has been our lot, Since our solemn vows were said On the day when we were wed ! 82 ''EARTH TO earth:' Let the sunlight round me play Through the long, bright summer day; Let old trees their branches wave O'er my green and grassy grave, While the changing shadows flit In strange beauty over it. Plant a white rose at my feet, Or a lily fair and sweet, With the humble mignonette And the blue-eyed violet. So beside me, all day long. Bird and bee shall weave their song Then methinks at eventide. With our children by thy side, Darling ! thou wilt love to come To my calm and quiet home ; Thou wilt feel my presence there, Filling all the silent air. Nearer will I seem to thee. Sleeping in the sunlight free, Than in yonder vaulted tomb, With its darkness and its gloom. "Earth to earth and dust to dust" Yield thou, love, in solemn trust, When our last farewell is said. And thy wife is with the dead ! AT THE GATE. AT THE GATE. ^l A QUIET evening long ago, When summer winds breathed soft and low. As, lingering long, the perfect day In royal splendor passed away. A country farm-house, quaint and low, Grew radiant in the sunset glow; Close by, two grand old cherry-trees Swayed slowly to the scented breeze. And clinging to the picket gate, A little girl of summers eight, As if with just anointed eyes, Gazed round her in a still surprise. The lofty mountains veiled in mist. Purple and rose and amethyst. Looked tenderly, yet proudly, down On silent vale and steepled town. A laughing brooklet flowed between Fair meadow-banks of softest green, Translating, as it swept along. Its own sweet fancies into song. Around in silent grandeur stood The stately children of the wood ; Maple and elm and towering pine Mantled in folds of dark woodbine. 84 THE CHERRY-TREE. And over all the bending sky Hung, a vast dome, serene and high ; While upward from the horizon rolled Great drifts of crimson, pearl, and gold. The bright tints paled; the mountains grew Sublimer in their sombre hue; Then the soft air grew damp and chill. And a lone voice cried, " Whip-po-wil !" She raised her eyes. A silver star Trembled in those dark depths afar; And half in joy, and half in fear. That child heart whispered, "God is here!" THE CHERRY-TREE. Once a careless little child. With my elf-locks floating wild. Gay as bird, and blithe as bee, Played I 'neath the- Cherry-Tree. Far and wide the branche . spread ; Scarce of blue sky overhead Could I catch a glimpse between Swaying leaves of deepest green. Singing softly, to my breast Tenderly my doll I pressed, Murmuring love-words, such as mother Murmured to my baby brother. THE CHERRY-TREE. Came to me an aged crone, Withered, weary, and alone; Weary with the weight of years. Worn with toil and burning tears. As she sadly gazed on me, Playing 'neath the Cherry-Tree, — Vague, unwonted terror stole Like a shadow o'er my soul. "Art thou happy, child?" she said; AVhile upon my drooping head Lay her wrinkled hand so chill, That my very heart grew still. "Life is sorrow, — life is pain, — Never will there come again Joy as pure as this to thee. Child, beneath the Cherry-Tree. " 85 Swiftly on the glad years flew. Till the child a maiden grew; And beneath the Cherry-Tree Other children played like me. On the verge of womanhood, With a bounding heart I stood; Mourned I then the glowing past? Back no longing look I cast ! But the future — that was fair As the dreams of angels are ; And the present — oh ! to me It was joy enough to be ! 86 THE CHERRY-TREE. Then again a warning voice Bade me tremblingly rejoice : And the crone I seemed to see Underneath the Cherry- Tree. "Girlhood will be quickly o'er; Life will bring thee nevermore Flowers like those it twineth now, Maiden, round thy fair young brow." Maidenhood hath passed away; I am standing, love, to-day By thy side, while soft and clear, Sweet young voices greet mine ear. Ah ! thou crone ! The child who played 'Neath the green tree's leafy shade. Never even thought of bliss. Such as crowds an hour like this ! Voice of warning ! Maiden dreams Are as bright as sunlit streams ; Yet those dreams may sometimes be Dim beside reality ! Wouldst thou know, love, what hath brought Back this flood of olden thought? Something still hath said to me, "Ye can never happier be!" It is well, my heart replied ; It is well, whate'er betide; Earth would be too much like heaven If more bliss to us were given ! THREE IViriTE MICE. WHAT MY FRIEND SAID TO ME. Trouble? dear friend, I know her not. God sent His angel Sorrow on my heart to lay Her hand in benediction, and to say, ''Restore, O child, that which thy Father lent, For He doth now recall it," long ago. His blessed angel Sorrow ! She has walked For years beside me, and we two have talked As chosen friends together. Thus I know Trouble and Sorrow are not near of kin. Trouble distrusteth God, and ever wears Upon her brow the seal of many cares; But Sorrow oft hast deepest peace within. She sits with Patience in perpetual calm, Waiting till Heaven shall send the healing balm. ^1 THREE WHITE MICE. A CRUMB FOR THE WEE ONES. I WILL tell you a story of three little mice, If you will keep still and listen to me, Who live in a cage that is cosy and nice, And are just as cunning as cunning can be. They look very wise, with their pretty, red eyes, That seem just exactly like little round beads; They are white as the snow, and stand up in a row Whenever we do not attend to their needs. 88 THREE WHITE MICE. Stand up in a row, in a comical way, — Now folding their forepaws as if saying "please;" Now rattling the lattice, as much as to say, "We shall not stay here without more bread and cheese. ' ' They are not at all shy, as you'll find, if you try To make them run up in their chamber to bed ; If they don't want to go, why, they won't go, — ah! no, Though you tap with your finger each queer little head. One day as I stood by the side of the cage, Through the bars there protruded a funny, round tail ; Just for mischief I caught it, and soon, in a rage. Its owner set up a most pitiful wail. He looked in dismay, — there was something to pay, — But what was the matter he could not make out ; What was holding him so, when he wanted to go To see what his brothers up-stairs were about? But soon from the chamber the others rushed down, Impatient to learn what the trouble might be ; I have not a doubt that each brow wore a frown, Only frowns on their brows are not easy to see. For a moment they gazed, perplexed and amazed, Then began both together to — gnaw off the tail ! So quick I released him, — do you think that it pleased him? And up the small staircase they fled like the gale. QUESTIONINGS. 89 QUESTIONINGS. What niother-angel tended thee last night, Sweet baby mine ? Cradled upon what breast all soft and white Didst thou recline? Who took thee, frail and tender as thou art. Within her arms ? And shielded thee, close clasped to her heart. From all alarms ? Surely that God who lured thee from the breast That hoped to be The softest pillow and the sweetest nest Thenceforth to thee. Sent thee not forth into the dread unknown Without a guide, To grope in darkness, treading all alone The path untried. Compassionate is He who called thee, child ; And well I know He sent some Blessed One of aspect mild With thee to go Through the dark valley, where the shadows dim Forever brood, Tliat the low music of an angel's liymn Might cheer the solitude ! S* 9° HYMN. HYMN.— No. I FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CEMETERY. Tune—" Old Hundred." Ye Pines, with solemn grandeur crowned, Put on your priestly robes to-day; Henceforth ye stand on holy ground, Where Love and Death hold equal sway. Lift up to Heaven each crested head. And raise your giant arms on high, And swear that o'er our slumbering dead Ye will keep "watch and ward" for aye. For month by month, and year by year. While shine the stars, and rolls the sea. Our silent ones shall gather here. To rest beneath the greenwood tree. Here no rude sight nor sound shall break The calmness of their last, long sleep. And Earth and Heaven, for Love's sweet sake, Shall o'er them ceaseless vigils keep. Our silent ones ! Their very dust Is precious in our longing eyes ; Oh, guard ye well the sacred trust. Till God's own voice shall bid them rise ! HYMN. HYMN.— No. 2. FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CEMETERY. Tune—" Pleyel's Hymn." God, our father's God, we bow Reverently before thee now. And our hearts and voices raise To thy throne in prayer and praise. We would pray to Him who knows All our sorrows, all our woes ; Him whose loving heart can share All the griefs his children bear. Christ has lain within the tomb, Well He knows its fearful gloom ; Knows that human hearts must shrink From its dark and shadowy brink. He whose tears for Lazarus fell. Drank of suffering's deepest well ; He can pity when we lay Our beloved ones away. Out of sight, beneath the sod, — Then be thou our helper, God ! I^et us stay our souls on thee. For no other help have we ! We would pray, — for, frail and weak, Much we need the good we seek ; 91 92 NIGHT AND MORNING. We would praise thee, — for thy word Tells us that our prayers are heard. We would praise thee that at last, Death and sin forever past. Thy dear children shall arise To adore thee in the skies ! NIGHT AND MORNING. I. Night and darkness over all ! Nature sleeps beneath a pall ; Not a ray from moon or stars Glimmers through the cloudy bars; Huge and black the mountains stand Frowning upon either hand, And the river, dark and deep, Gropes its way from steep to steep. Yonder tree, whose young leaves played In the sunshine and the shade, Stretches out its arms like one Sudden blindness hath undone. Pale and dim the rose-queen lies Robbed of all her gorgeous dyes. And the lily bendeth low, Mourner in a garb of Avoe. Never a shadow comes or goes, Never a gleam its glory throws Over cottage or over hall, — Darkness broodeth over all ! NIGHT AND MORNING. 93 Night without on Hme and shrine, Night within this soul of mine ! Groping blindly in the dark, Searching for some sure landmark; Wrestling oft with unbelief. Vexed by questions sharp and brief; Yearning what I am to know, Whence I came or where I go ; Fain to learn the mysteries hid, Even the simplest lives amid. And its secrets dark to wrest From the grave's unflithomed breast; Seeking in a maze of creeds One best suited to my needs ; Tossed upon a sea of doubt. Fears within and storms without ; Striving still the way to see Where the thickest shadows be, Reaching ever toward the light, In my soul is darkest night ! III. Lo ! the glorious morning breaks ! Nature from her sleep awakes, And, in purple pomp, the day Bids the darkness flee away. Crowned with light the mountains stand Royally on either hand. And the laughing waters run In glad haste to meet the sun. Stately trees, exultant, raise Their proud heads in grateful praise; 94 NIGHT AND MORNING. Flowers, dew-laden, everywhere Pour rich incense on the air. And the ascending vapors rise Like the smoke of sacrifice. Birds are trilling, bees are humming, Swift to greet the new day coming. And earth's myriad voices sing Hymns of grateful welcoming. Bursting from night's heavy thrall, Heaven's own light is over all ! IV. Light in nature's inmost shrine. Light within this soul of mine ! Leaning on the All-Father's breast In serene and tranquil rest ; Caring not the way to see While He gently leadeth me ; Fearing not the treacherous dark While to his dear voice I hark; Knowing if the way be dim I must closer cling to Him ; What I cannot understand Glad to leave in God's own hand, Sure that Fleaven is over all. And that He loves great and small ; Yielding the present to his will, For the future trusting still, — While beyond death's mystery The calm face of Christ I see, That dear face whose loving eyes Wept alone in sad surprise. From my heart the shadows roll, It is morning in my soul ! MA TV K IT V. 95 MATURITY. Time was I mourned the vanished years, The glad and glorious days of youth, When Memory shed no bitter tears, And young Romance clasped hands with Truth. I sighed because the early flowers, Spring's first fair children, died so soon, And all the dewy morning hours Fled fast before the summer noon. I grieved that aught so very fair As Youth and May should be so fleet ; That Ijfe's first vintage, sweet and rare. But once the eager lip may meet. but standing with hushed heart to-day Where summer sunshine warmly glows, I sigh not for Spring's flowery way, Nor dread the autumn's rich repose. I would not, if I could, go back. Life's noon is better than its morn; Flower-wreathed and crowned, it does not lack One rose, nor find one added thorn. Go back? — To meet the strange unrest That fills the fiery heart of youth, — The longing sadness of the brca?t That cannot understand its ruth, — 96 MA Tl'RITY. The doubts, the passionate despair, The uncertain step, the hidden fear, — The shadow of oncoming care Darker and colder than Avhen near, — The weary reaching after what The puny hands still fail to grasp, — The search for good, to find it not The thing we sought for in our clasp, — The dread of all the mysteries blent In that yet unread mystery, life, — The shrinking from the angels sent To guard us amid sin and strife, — Go back to meet all these? Ah, no! Life's summer sun illumes my way; No roses crowned the long ago More bright than those I wear to-day ! Some fleeting joys of youth are past; But past, too, are its trembling fears; It had some hopes too bright to last, Balanced alway by weight of tears. Now stilled is all the vague unrest, The eager longing of the spring; With Peace for its abiding guest, ]My quiet heart can sit and sing. "What though the autumn days come next? They bring rich sheaves and ripened fruit, And at their step shall I be vext Even though the singing birds are mute? PEACE. God crowns all seasons with his gifts; Each in its turn the fairest seems; And many a heart to him uplifts, Whose real is dearer than its dreams. 97 PEACE. Ere our dear Saviour spoke the parting word To those who loved Him best when here below, While deep emotion every bosom stirred. He said, "My peace I give yon ere I go !" His Peace, sweet Peace ! As falls the summer dew On drooping flowers, so fell those words of cheer Upon the earnest hearts that dimly knew What they, like their dear Lord, must suffer here. His Peace — Christ's Peace ! O gift most rare and strange ! Never was aught so precious given before ! Vain triflcr he who would that gift exchange For all the riches of Golconda's shore! His Peace — His blessed Peace ! Not Joy, the bright, Bewildering sprite that charmed their early years, When with youth's roses crowned, and clad in light. Her radiant eyes had ne'er been dimmed by tears, — But Peace that walks with Patience, side by side. Bearing Heaven's seal upon her pure, calm face; Child of Submission, whatso'er betide, She wears the white robes of celestial grace. 9 98 YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY. O Christ ! wliose human heart remembers still The pangs from which death only gave release, Strange griefs, strange fears, our yearning souls must fill, Withhold what else thou wilt — but give us Peace ! YESTERDAY AND TO-DA\^. But yesterday among us here. One with ourselves in hope and fear : Joying like us in little things. The sheen of gorgeous insect wings. The song of bird, the hum of bee. The white foam of the heaving sea. But yesterday your simplest speech, Your lightest breath, our hearts could reach ; Your very thoughts were ours. Our eyes Found in your own no mysteries. Your griefs, your joys, your prayers, Ave knew, The hopes that with your girlhood grew. But yesterday we dared to say, " 'Twere better you should walk this way Or that, dear child ! Do thus or so; Older and wiser we, you know." We gave you floAvers and curled your hair, And brought new robes for you to wear. To-day how far away thou art ! In all thy life we have no part. YESTERDA V AND TO-DA V. Hast thou a want? Wc know it not; Utterly parted from our lot, The veriest stranger is to thee All those who loved thee best can be. Deaf to our calls, our prayers, our cries, Thou dost not lift thy heavy eyes; Nor heed the tender words that flow From lips whose kisses thrilled thee so But yesterday ! To-day in vain We wait for kisses back again. To-day no awful mystery hid The dark and mazy past amid, Is half so great as this that lies Beneath the lids of tliy shut eyes. And in those frozen lips of stone, Impassive lips, that smile nor moan. But yesterday with loving care We petted, praised thee, called thee fair; To-day, oppressed with awe, we stand Before that ring-unfettered hand. And scarcely dare to lift one tress In mute and reverent caress. But yesterday with us. To-day Where thou art dwelling, who can say? In heaven? But where? Oh! for some spell To make thy tongue this secret tell ! To break the silence strange and deep, That thy sealed lips so closely keep ! In vain — in vain ! But yesterday So quick to answer and obey ; 99 DE PROFUNDIS. To-day, unmoved by word or tear, A creature of another sphere, Thou heedest us no more than they Who passed before the Flood away ! DE PROFUNDIS. Tossed by the heaving of passion's wild billows, Struggling with anguish and doubt and despair, Ere the dark waters close o'er him forever. Hearken, O God, to his agonized prayer! There is no star in the heavens above him, There is no rift in the dark rolling cloud; Only the thunder of storm-beaten surges, — Only the roar of the waves swelling loud ! Thou who art sitting serene in the heavens. Judging the ways that Earth's children have trod, Art thou unmoved by the cry of his anguish? Dost thou not hear it. Omnipotent God? Didst thou not fashion him out of the darkness. Moulding him even when hid in the womb? Not of his seeking the life that thou gavest. Burdened with sorrow and heavy with gloom ! Fettered by circumstance, place, and position. Tempted by foes from without and within, Wrestling with Evil, alone, single-handed. After long conflict he yielded to sin. O thou Immaculate ! Thou, the Unsinning ! Thou whose own being is spotless and pure. IN THE GARDEN. loi How from the heights of thy sinless perfection, Canst judge us with judgment, just, righteous, and sure? Ah I dare 1 question thee. Thou, the iVU-loving? Lo ! this tiie answer we find in thy Word : "Sitting serene on my throne in the heavens. Never one cry fioateth past me unheard ! (J ye disconsolate, heartsick, and erring, Tempted and languishing, lost and undone, How can ye question the love that I bear ye When out of its fullness I gave ye my Son?" Thou who didst wander in lone wildernesses ! Thou who didst suffer all pain and all loss ! Thou who didst moan in Gethsemane's garden! Thou who didst hang on the terrible cross ! Thou who wert tempted as never another, — Thou who wert man but yet sinless and pure, — Out of the depths do we lift up our voices, Only in Thee find we strength to endure ! IN THE GARDEN. Come out in the garden, children, Before the sun goes down. While yet the purple glory Brightens the far-off town : While yet the rosy vapor Bathes all the mountains round ; And list to the mystic music That rises from the ground. 9* IN THE GARDEN. It is early, early springtime ; In slumber calm and deep The violet and the heliotrope, The rose and lily sleep. But as little children whisper And smile ere they awake, So now their low, sweet voices The winter silence break. A soft and thrilling murmur The listening spirit hears, Too faint and too ethereal To reach our fleshly ears. It tells of restless yearnings. Of throbbing, struggling life, Of eager, upward aimings. Of glad, rejoicing strife. They are not dumb and lifeless! Far down beneath the sod, With new-born joy exultant, They hear the voice of God ! And they stretch their glad arms upward. Impatient for the day, When the blessed golden sunlight Upon their brows shall play. And I dare to dream they love me, — That, as I inly pine For the blessing of their presence, Even so do they for mine. O my buried ones, my darlings! When ye hear my step and voice, In the darkness of your prison-cells, I know that ye rejoice ! THE HUMMING-BIRD. Haste ! haste ! I bend above ye With yearning love and trust, Whose warmth must reach ye as ye lie Far down beneath the dust. Shake off your clay-cold cerements ! The resurrection morn Has dawned upon the mountains, And a new world is born ! THE HUMMING-BIRD. Humming o'er the flowers All the summer day. Poised on unseen winglets A moment, — then away ! Swifter than an arrow Darting from the bow. Little jeweled wonder. Thou dost come and go ! Nesting, nesting, nesting. Where, 'mid clustering leaves, Web of shade and sunshine Summer deftly weaves; Sitting, sitting, sitting In your downy nest, — Is it labor, birdie, Or serenest rest? Brooding, brooding, broo ling O'er two tiny pearls, I04 A SONG FOR TWO. Pure as those that shimmered In Queen Esther's curls ! Wilt thou wonder, birdie, When they pass away? Tell me, which is dearer, Pearls, or life, to-day? Hast thou learned the lesson That we learn in pain. How joy comes of sorrow, And of losses, gain? Ah ! I question vainly, As, darting to and fro, Again, thou jeweled wonder, Thou dost come and go ! A SONG FOR TWO. Not for its sunsets burning clear and low. Its jDurple splendors on the eastern hills. Bless I the Year that now makes haste to go While sad Earth listens for its dying thrills. Not that its days were sweet with sun and showers j Its summer nights all luminous with stars: Not that its vales were studded thick with flowers; Not that its mountains pierced the azure bars ; Not that from our dear land, by slow degrees, Some mists of error it hath blown away; Not for its noble deeds — ah I not for these — Fair would I twine this wreath of song to-day. ONCE ! 105 But for one gift that it has brought to me My grateful heart would crown the dying Year; Because, O best-beloved, it gave me thee, I drop this garland on the passing bier ! ONCE! Once in your sight, As May buds swell in the sun's warm light, So grew her soul, Yielding itself to your sweet control. Once if you spoke. Echoing strains in her heart awoke, Sending a thrill All through its chambers sweet and still. Once if you said, "Sweet, with Love's garland I crown your head," Ah ! how the rose Flooded her forehead's pale repose! Once if your lip Dared the pure sweetness of hers to sip. Softly and meek Dark lashes drooped on a white rose cheek ! Once if your name Some one but whispered, a sudden flame Burned on her cheek. Telling a story she would not speak ! I06 ONCE! Once, — ah ! I sin, Raising the ghost of what once has been ! Yet list, I pray, To one plain truth that I speak to-day. You do but wait At a sepulchre's sealed gate ! Her love is dead, Bound hand and foot in its narrow bed. Why did it die? Ask of your soul the reason why ! Question it well. And surely the secret it will tell. But if your heart Ever again plays the lover's part, Let this truth be Blent with the, solemn mystery : Pure flame aspires; Downward flow not the altar fires; And skylarks soar Up where the earth mists vex no more. Now loose your hold From her white garment's spotless fold; And let her pass, — While both hearts murmur, "Alas! alas!" 117/ AT I LOST. WHAT I LOST. Wandering in the dewy twilight Of a golden summer day, When the mists upon the mountains Flushed with purple splendor lay: When the sun just kissed the hilltops And the vales Avere hushed and dim, And from out the forest arches Rose a holy vesper hymn, — I lost something. Have you seen it, Children, ye who passed that way? Did you chance to find the treasure That I lost that summer day? It was neither gold nor silver. Orient pearl nor jewel rare ; Neither amethyst, nor ruby. Nor an opal gleaming fair; 'Twas no curious, quaint mosaic Wrought by cunning master-hands, Nor a cameo where Hebe Crowned with deathless beauty stands. Yet have I lost something precious ; Children, ye who passed that way, — Tell me, have you found the treasure That I lost one summer day? Then, you say, it was a casket Filled with India's perfumes rare, Or a tiny flask of crystal Meet the rose's breath to bear; 107 Io8 THE CHIMNE Y SWALLO W. Or a bird of wondrous plumage, With a voice of sweetest tone, That escaping from my bosom To the greenwood deep has flown. Ah! not these, I answer vainly; •Children, ye who passed that way. Ye can never find the treasure That I lost that summer day ! You may call it bird or blossom ; Name my treasure what you will ; Here no more its song or fragrance Shall my soul with rapture fill. But, thank God ! our earthly losses In no darksome void are cast; Safely garnered, some to-morrow Shall restore them all at last. Somewhere in the great hereafter, Children, ye who pass this way, I shall find again the treasure That I lost one summer day ! THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW. One night as I sat by my table. Tired of books and pen, With wandering thoughts far straying Out into the world of men ; — That world where the busy workers Such magical deeds are doing. Each one with a steady purpose His own pet plans pursuing ; THE CIIIMNE Y S WALL O IV. 1 09 Wlien the house was wrapt in silence, And the children were all asleep, And even the mouse in the wainscot Had ceased to run and leap. All at once from the open chimney Came a hum and a rustle and whirring, That startled me out of my dreaming, And set my pulses stirring. ^Vhat was it? I paused and listened; The roses were all in bloom, And in from the garden floated The violet's rich perfume. So it could not be Kriss Kringle, For he only comes, you know, AVHien the Christmas bells are chiming, And the hills are white with snow. Hark ! a sound as of rushing Avaters, Or the rustle of falling leaves. Or the patter of eager raindrops Yonder among the eaves ! Then out from the dark, old chimney. Blackened with soot and smoke, With a whir of fluttering pinions A startled birdling broke, — Da-shing against the window; 'Lighting a moment where My sculptured Angel folded Its soft white wings in prayer; Swinging upon the curtains; Perched on the ivy-vine; At last it rested trembling In tender hands of mine. CATHARINE. No stain upon its plumage; No dust upon its wings; Ah, happy bird ! thus dwelling Unsoiled 'mid foulest things. But happier thou, O soul of mine ! When thou at last shalt soar, Where earthly soil and sorrow Shall vex thee nevermore 1 CATHARINE. O WONDROUS mystery of death ! I yield me to thine awful sway, And with hushed heart and bated breath Bow down before thy shrine to-day ! But yesterday these pallid lips Breathed reverently my humble name; These eyes now closed in drear eclipse Brightened with gratitude's soft flame. These poor, pale hands were swift to do The lowliest service I might ask; These palsied feet the long day through Moved gladly to each wonted task. O faithful, patient, loving one. Who from earth's great ones shrank afar, Canst bear the presence of The Son, And dwell where holy angels are? HEIR SHIP. Dost thou not meekly bow thine head, And stand apart with humblest mien, Nor dare with softest step to tread 'I'he ranks of shining Ones between? Dost thou not kneel with downcast eyes The hem of some white robe to touch. While on thine own meek forehead lies The crown of her who "loved much." O vain imaginings ! To-day Earth's loftiest prince is not thy peer. Come, Sage and Seer ! mute homage pay To this Pale Wonder lying here ! HEIRSHIP. Little store of wealth have I; Not a rood of land I own ; Nor a mansion fair and high Built with towers of fretted stone. Stocks nor bonds, nor title-deeds. Flocks nor herds have I to show; When I ride, no Arab steeds Toss for me their manes of snow, I have neither pearls nor gold, Massive plate, nor jewels rare; Broidered silks of worth untold. Nor rich robes a queen might wear HEIRSHIP. In my garden's narrow bound Flaunt no costly tropic bloonxs, Ladening all the air around With a weight of rare perfumes. Yet to an immense estate Am I heir, by grace of God, — Richer, grander than doth wait Any earthly monarch's nod. Heir of all the Ages, I — Heir of all that they have wrouglit, All their store of emprise high. All their wealth of precious thought. Every golden deed of theirs Sheds its lustre on my way ; All their labors all their prayers, Sanctify this present day ! Heir of all that they have earned By their passion and their tears, — Heirof all that they have learned Through the weary, toiling years ! Heir of all the faith sublime On whose wings they soared to heaven ; Heir of every hope that Time To Earth's fainting sons hath given ! Aspirations pure and high, — Strength to dare and to endure, — Heir of all the Ages, I — Lo ! I am no longer poor ! ACNES. 113 AGNES. Agnes! Agnes! is it thus Thou, at last, dost come to us? From the land of balm and bloom, Blandest airs and sweet perfume. Where the jasmine's golden stars Glimmer soft through emerald bars. And the fragrant orange flowers Fall to earth in silver showers, Agnes! Agnes! \Y\\.\\ thy pale hands on thy breast, Comest thou here to take thy rest? Agnes! Agnes! o'er thy grave Loud the winter winds will rave, And the snow fall fast around, Heaping high thy burial mound ; Yet, within its soft embrace. Thy dear form and earnest face. Wrapt away from burning pain. Ne'er shall know one pang again. Agnes ! Agnes ! Nevermore shall anguish vex thee, Nevermore shall care perplex thee. Agnes! Agnes! wait, ah! wait Just one moment at the gate. Ere your pure feet enter in, Where is neitlier pain nor sin. 114 AGNES. Thou art blest, but how shall we Bear the pang of losing thee? Thou art safe, but round us roll Billows which o'erwhelm the soul. Agnes ! Agnes ! What if we should lose our way In the darkness where we stray? Agnes ! Agnes ! turn thine ear From the anthems swelling clear; Passing sweet are they we know, While our words are weak and low; But we love thee ! ah ! how well Angel tongue could never tell ; List ! we love thee ! By that word Once thy heart of hearts was stirred. Agnes ! Agnes ! By that love we bid thee wait ' Just one moment at the gate ! Agnes ! Agnes ! No ! Pass on To the heaven that thou hast won ! By thy life of brave endeavor, Up the heights aspiring ever, Whence thy voice, like clarion clear, Rang out words of lofty cheer, — By thy laboring not in vain. By thy martyrdom of pain, Our Saint Agnes — From our yearning sight pass on To the Rest that thou hast won ! MY MOCKING-BIRD. 115 MY MOCKING-BIRD. Mocking-bird ! mocking-bird ! swinging high " Aloft in your gilded cage, The clouds are hurrying over the sky, The wild winds fiercely rage. But soft and warm is the air you breathe Up there with the tremulous ivy wreatli : And never an icy blast can chill The perfumed silence sweet and still. Mocking-bird ! mocking-bird ! from your throat Breaks forth no flood of song, Nor even a perfect golden note. Triumphant, glad and strong ! But now and then a pitiful wail, Like the plaintive sigh of the dying gale, Comes from that arching breast of thine Swinging up there with the ivy-vine. Mocking-bird ! mocking-bird ! well I know Your heart is far away. Where the golden stars of the jasmine glow, And the roses bloom alway ! For your cradle-nest was softly made In the depth of a blossoming myrtle's shade; And you heard the chant of the southern seas Borne inland by the favoring breeze. But, ah, my beautiful mocking-bird! Should I bear you back again, 1 1 6 MV MOCKING-BIRD. Never would song of yours be heard Echoing through the glen. For once, ah ! once at the dawn of day, You waked to the roar of the deadly fray. When the terrible clash of armed foes Startled the vale from its dim repose. At first you sat on a swaying bough, Mocking the bugle's blare, Fearless and free in the fervid glow Of the heated, sulphurous air. Your voice rang out like a trumpet's note, With a martial ring in its upward float, And stern men smiled, for you seemed to be * Cheering them on to victory ! But at length, as the awful day wore on, You flew to a tree-top high, And sat like a spectre grim and wan, Outlined against the sky; Sat silently watching the fiery fray Till, heaps upon heaps, the Blue and Gray Lay together, a silent band. Whose souls had passed to the shadowy land. Ah, my mocking-bird ! swinging there Under the ivy-vine, You still remember the bugle's blare. And the blood poured forth like wine. The soul of song in your gentle breast Died in that hour of fierce unrest. When like a spectre grim and wan, You watched to see how the strife went on. UNDER rilE PALM-TREES. 117 UNDER THE PALM-TREES. Wr were children together, you and I, We trod the same paths in days of old ; Together we watched the sunset sky, And counted its bars of massive gold. And when from the dark horizon's brim The moon stole up with its silver rim. And slowly sailed through the fields of air, ^Ve thought there was nothing on earth so fair. You walk to-night where the jasmines grow, And the Cross looks down from the tropic skies; Where the spicy breezes softly blow, And the slender shafts of the palm-trees rise. Vou breathe the breath of the orange flowers. And the perfumed air of the myrtle bowers; You pluck the acacia's golden balls. And mark where the red pomegranate falls. I stand to-night on the breezy hill, Wliere the pine-trees sing as they sang of yore; The north star burneth clear and still. And the moonbeams silver your father's door. I can see the hound as he lies asleep, In the shadow close by the old well-sweep, And hear the river's murmuring flow. As we two heard it long ago. Ii8 HYMN. Do you think of the firs on the mountain-side, As you walk to-night where the palm-trees grow? Of the brook where the trout in the darkness hide? Of the yellow willows waving slow? Do you long to drink of the crystal spring, In the dell where the purple harebells swing? Would your pulses leap could you hear once more The sound of the flail on the threshing-floor? Ah ! the years are long, and the world is wide. And the salt sea rolls our hearts between ; And never again at eventide Shall we two gaze on the same fair scene. But under the palm-trees wandering slow, You think of the spreading elms I know ; And you deem our daisies fairer far Than the gorgeous blooms of the tropics are ! HYMN. FOR AN INSTALLATION. Sing aloud, O happy voices ! Fill the air with joyful praise, While each grateful heart rejoices In the gift that crowns our days ! Sing for joy ! But let your singing To the heights of prayer upreach. To thy throne, O God! are winging Thoughts too vast for human speech. hymn: Vet for him whom thou hast sent us, ^ Now, with yearning hearts, we pray; Keep the treasure thou hast lent us. Father, near to thee alway ! When his heart grows faint and weary, Strengthen him with heavenly wine ; If his path grows dark or dreary. Lighten it with light divine. When the spirit, Lord, is willing, Though the shrinking flesh is weak. Let thy voice, all tempests stilling, Blessed words of comfort speak. When he kneels beside our dying,— ^^'hen he lays our dead away,— In our anguish and our crying. Teach thou him what words to say. When before thy holy altar He shall pour the sacred Avine, Let his strong hand never falter. Holding fast to hand of thine. Now on pastor and on people, Lord, thy fullest blessing pour. While the bell from out the steeple Rings in peace for evermore ! 119 120 WEARINESS. WEARINESS. I AM weary, — Give me rest ! Long tlie way seems, dark and dreary, It were best If beneath the sod low lying Fast asleep, Nevermore might Earth's sad sighing Rouse me from my slumber deep ! I am tired ! Once my feet Up the mountain heights aspired Light and fleet ! Now, alas ! they feebly falter On the road, And my weak arms to the altar Bear no sacrificial load ! For life's fever Bring me balm ! Wrap my senses, O Rest-Giver, In thy calm ! Downy soft shall be my pillow When at last Far across Death's heaving billow I shall smile at conflicts past ! ODE. ODE FOR THE DEDICATION OF A MUSIC-HALL. No grand Cathedral's vaulted space Where, through the "dim, religious light,' Gleam pictured saint and cross and crown, We consecrate with song to-night ; No stately temple lifting high Its dome against the starlit skies, Wliere lofty arch and glittering spire Lfke miracles of beauty rise. Yet here beneath this humbler roof Witli reverent hearts and lips we come; Hail, Music ! Song and Beauty, hail ! Henceforth be these poor walls your home. Here speak to hearts that long have yearned Your presence and your spells to know ; Here touch the lips athirst to drink Where your perennial fountains flow. Here where our glorious mountain-peaks Sublimely pierce the ether blue. Lift ye our souls, and bid them rise In aspirations grand and true ! II 122 ''LORD, SAVE OR I PERIS HP O Music, Art, and Science, hail ! We greet you now with glad acclaims ; Ye bay-crowned ones ! the listening air -II Waits to re-echo with your names; Waits for your voices ringing clear Above this weary, work-day world ; Waits till ye bid fair Truth arise. While Error from her throne is hurled ! "LORD, SAVE OR I PERISH." The storm is loud, and wild the night; O'erwhelmed with horror and affright, While fierce winds toss my fragile bark, I cry out through the lonesome dark, " Save, Lord, or I perish !" A sailor on an unknown sea. No human skill can pilot me ; Unless Thou art my guiding star, How can I reach the shore afar? "Save, Lord, or I perish !" Thou who didst trembling Peter save, What time he dared the treacherous wave ; Thou who didst bid the dead arise. Thou who didst open sealed eyes, ' ' Save me, or I perish ! ' ' NEVER AGAIN. When in the wilderness 1 stray, To fierce temptation's power a prey, Or on the mountain-top alone, With pallid lips make bitter moan, "Save, Lord, or I perish!" When worn by sorrow, pain, and loss, I sink beneath some heavy cross. And faltering in my dumb despair Find help nor succor otherwhere, " Save, Thou, or I perish !" When dragons that I cannot slay. Confront me hourly in the way; When cares and doubts and fears oppress, And Reason mocks at my distress, "Save, Lord, or I perish !" And when I reach the river's brim, That threads the valley dark and dim, To thee, O Christ, I'll lift mine eye. And till my breath shall fail me, cry, "Lord, save or I perish!" 123 NEVER AGAIN. Never again — oh ! nevermore Until we meet on the other shore ! Never again ! for us two between Lies an impassable gulf I ween. 124 NEVER AGAIN. It is broad and deep ; no voice can come Over its darkness cold and dumb ; Nor sign nor token may ever pass Across its desolate void — alas ! — To bear one thought from thee to me ; Henceforth we are parted, utterly ! Sometimes I wish that thou wert dead ; Then, as pilgrims bow their tears to shed And their prayers to breathe at a prophet's shrine, I could kneel at thy grave and offer mine ! For thou wert prophet and priest to me. Pointing me where the Good might be; Helping my weakness with thy strength, And then, with a firm and a steady hand, Leading me on towards the Promised Land. Whether a thought thou dost ever cast Back to our beautiful, memoried past, I never may know, until our souls Meet where Eternity's broad sea rolls. It well may be that thy busy brain Recks little of memory's joy or pain. One of the world's wise workers thou, Its seal of care is upon thy brow. THE NAME. 'I'hou hast words to speak with lip and pen, Of import vast to thy fcUow-men; And the current of life is swift and strong That bears thee on with a mighty throng. Hut T, with the one I love best near, And my children's voices in my ear, Oft think with a pang of bitterest pain Of days that may never return again ! 125 THE NAME. I KNOW not by what name to call thee, thou Who reignest supreme, sole sovereign of my heart ! Thou who the lode-star of my being art. Thou before whom my soul delights to bow ! What shall I call thee ? Teach me some dear name Better than all the rest, that I may pour All that the years have taught me of Love's lore In one fond word. " Lover?" But that's too tame, And "Friend" 's too cold, though thou art both to me. Art thou my King ? Kings sit enthroned afar, And crowns less meet for love than reverence are, While both my heart gives joyfully to thee. Art thou — but, ah ! I'll cease the idle quest, I cannot tell what name befits thee best ! 126 CHRISTMAS, 1863. LIFE. There was a time when low on bended knee With outstretched hand and wet, uplifted eye, I cried, '•' O Father ! teach me how to die, And give me strength Death's awful face to see And not to fear." Henceforth my prayer shall be, " Help me to live." Stern Life stalks slowly by, Relentless and inexorable. No cry For help or pity moveth her, as she Gives to each one the burden of the day, Nor heeds the limbs that bend beneath their load. We may not shrink from our appointed way Nor pause to rest, however rough the road She bids us walk in. Therefore let us pray, " Give us the strength we need to live, O God !" CHRISTMAS, 1863. Jesus, on this thy blessed natal day. My home wears not its wonted fair array; Nor star, nor cross, upon its walls are seen. Nor wreath, nor garland, of the freshest green. No merry, childish voices make it ring With joyful shouts of Christmas welcoming ; Nor softly whisper, as they pause from play, "Mother, was Jesus truly born this day?" CENTENNIAL POEM. l^ut not the less turns my full heart to Thee; To-day, O Christ, a present helper be ; As near in sorrow as in joy be Thou, Accept the tribute that I bring Thee now. And not the less would I on this glad day, Low at thy feet my grateful homage pay ; Babe of Bethlehem, I pause to hear The angel voices chiming sweet and clear. 1 lift my eyes to seek the wondrous star That led the wise men from their home afar; I bend with them in humblest awe to see The Kingly One who sat on Mary's knee! The lowly, meek, yet royal One, who bore The burden of the Cross till life was o'er. O Christ, our King, half mortal, all divine. Who e'er can comprehend such love as thine? 127 CENTENNIAL POEM. Written for the One Hundredth Anniversary of the Settlement of Mid- dlebury, Vermont. July, 1866. O Mighty Present ! from our souls to-day Unloose thy grasp a little while, we pray; — Nor frown that now upon another's shrine We lay the votive wreaths so lately thine. 128 CENTENNIAL POEM. We are not fickle, though it is not long Since with glad harmony, triumphant song And waving banners, the exulting throng Proclaimed thee monarch — crowned thee kingliest king- Lord of the ages — mightiest and best Of the dead years that in their pallid rest Sleep undisturbed, though loud our plaudits ring ! We are not fickle. Grand, heroic, true. Faithful and brave thine earnest work to do, O glorious Present ! we rejoice in thee. Thou noble nurse of great deeds yet to be ! Hast thou not shown us that our mother Earth Still, in exultant joy, gives heroes birth? Do not the old romances that our youth Revered and honored as the truest truth. Grow pale and dim before the facts sublime Thy pen has written on the scroll of Time? Ah! never yet did poet's tongue, Though like a silver bell it rung, Or minstrel, o'er his sounding lyre Breathing the old, prophetic fire, Or harper, in the storied walls Of Scotia's proud, baronial halls — Where mail-clad men with sword and spear. Waited entranced the song to hear, That through the stormy midnight hour. Fast held them in its spell of power, — Ah ! never yet did they rehearse In flowing rhyme, or stately verse. The praise of deeds more nobly done. Or tell of fields more grandly won ! We laud thee, we praise thee, we bless thee to-day ! At thy feet, lowly bending, glad homage we pay! CENTENNIAL POEM. 129 Thou hast taught us that men are as brave as of yore ; That the day of great deeds and great thought is not o'er; That tlie courage undaunted, the far-reaching faith, The strength that unshaken looks cahnly on death, The self-abnegation that hastens to lay Its all on the altar, have not passed away. Thou hast taught us that "country" is more than a name; That honor unsullied is better than fame; Thou hast proved that while man can still battle for truth, Even boyhood can give up the promise of youth, And yielding its life with a smile and a sigh, Say, "'Tis sweet for my God and my country to die." O heart-searching Present, thy sons have gone down To the night of the grave in their day of renown ! Thy daughters have watched by the hearthstone in vain. For the loved and the lost that returned not again. No Spartans were they,— yet 'mid tears falling fast, Their foith and their patience endured to the last; And God gave them strength to their kindred to say, "Go ye forth to the fight, while we labor and pray!" Thou hast opened thy coffers on land and on sea; And broad-handed Charity, noble and free, Has lavished thy bounties on friend and on foe, Like the rain that descending, falls softly and slow On the just and the unjust, and never may know The one from the other. When thy story is told By some age that looks backward and calls thee "the old," It shall puzzle its sages, all great as thou art. To tell which was greatest, thy head or thy heart ! Mighty words thy lips have spoken, — Strongest fetters thou hast broken, — And in tones like those of thunder. When the clouds are rent asund^. 130 CENTENNIAL POEM. Thou hast made the Nations hear thee, — Thou hast bade the Tyrants fear thee, — And our hearts to-day proclaim thee. As they oft have done before, Fit to lead the glorious legions Of the glorious days of yore ! Yet still, we pray thee, veil awhile Thy splendor from our dazzled eyes And hide the glory of thy smile, Lest our souls wake to new surprise ! Bear with us while our feet to-day Retrace a dim and shadowy way, In search of what, it well may be. Shall help to make us Avorthier thee ! And now, O spirit of the Past, draw near, And let us feel thy blessed presence here ! With reverent hearts and voices hushed and low. We wait to hear thy garments' rustling flow ! From all the conflicts of our busy life, From all its bitter and enduring strife, Its eager yearnings and its wild turmoil. Its cares, its joys, its sorrows, and its toil. Its aspirations that too often seem Like the remembered phantoms of a dream. We turn aside. This hour is thine alone. And none shall share the grandeur of thy throne. Ah ! thou art here ! Beneath these whispering trees. Thy breath floats softly on the passing breeze; We feel the presence that we cannot see. And every moment draws us nearer thee. Could we but see thee, with thy solemn eyes In whose rare depths such wondrous meaning lies, — CENTENXr.iL POEM. 131 Thy dark robes sweeping this enchanted ground, — Thy midnight hair with purple pansies crowned, — Thy lip so sadly sweet, thy brow serene! There is no expectation in thy mien, For thou hast done with dreams. Nor joy nor pain Can e'er disturb thy placid calm again. What is this veil that hides thee from our sight? Breathe it away, thou spirit darkly bright ! It may not be ! Our eyes are dim, Perhaps Avith age, perhaps with tears; We hear no more the choral hymn The angels sing among the spheres. Weary and worn and tempest-tossed. Much have we gained — and something lost — Since in the sunbeams golden glow, The rippling brooklet's silvery flow, The song of bird or murmuring bee. The fragrant flower, the stately tree, The royal pomp of sunset skies, And all earth's varied harmonies. We saw and heard what nevermore Can Earth or Heaven to us restore. And felt a child's unquestioning faith In childhood's mystic lore! A hundred times the Summer's fragrant blooms Have laden all the air with sweet perfumes, — A hundred times along the mountain-side. Autumn has flung his crimson banners wide, — A hundred times has kindly Winter spread His snowy mantle o'er the violet's bed, — A hundred times has Earth rejoiced to hear The Spring's light footsteps in the forest sere, 132 CENTENNIAL POEM. Since on yon grassy knoll the quick, sharp stroke Of the young woodman's axe the silence broke. Not then did these encircling hills look down On quaint old farmhouse, or on steepled town. No church-spires pointed to the arching skies; No wandering lovers saw the moon arise; No childish laughter mingled with the song Of the fair Otter,, as it flowed along As brightly then as now. Ah ! little recked I'he joyous river, when the sunshine flecked Its dancing wavelets, that no human eye Gave it glad welcome as it frolicked by! The long, uncounted years had come and flown. And it had still swept on, unseen, unknown, Biding its time. No minstrel sang its praise, No poet named it in immortal lays. It played no part in legendary lore, And young Romance knew not its winding shore. But in her own loveliness Nature is glad, And little slie cares for man's smile or his frown; In the robes of her royalty still she is clad. Though his eye may behold not her sceptre or crown ! And over our beautiful Otter the trees Swayed lightly as now in the frolicsome breeze; And the meek little violet lifted an eye. As blue as its own, to the laughing blue sky. The harebell trembled on its stem Down where the rushing waters gleam, A sapphire on the broidered hem Of some fair Naiad of the stream. The buttercups, bright-eyed and bold, Held up their chalices of gold To catch the sunshine and the dew, Gayly as those that bloom for you. CENTENNIAL POEM. And deep within the forest shade, Where broadest noon mere twilight made, Ten thousand small, sweet censers swung, And tiny bells by Zephyrs rung, Made tinkling music till the day In solemn splendor died away. The woods were full of praise and prayer. Although no human tongue was there; For every pine and hemlock sung The grand cathedral aisles among, And every flower that gemmed the sod Looked up and whispered, "Thou art God. The birds sung as they sing to-day, A song of love and joy alway. The brown thrush from its golden throat Poured out its long, melodious note; The pigeons cooed ; the veery threw Its mellow trill from spray to spray; The wild night-hawk its trumpet blew, And the owl cried, "tu whit, tu whoo," From set of sun to break of day. The partridge reared her fearless brood Safe in the darkling solitude. And the bald eagle built its nest High on the tall cliff's craggy crest. And often, when the still moonlight Made all the lonely valley bright, Down from the hills its thirst to slake. The deer trod softly through the brake ; While far away the spotted fawn Waited the coming of the dawn, And trembled when the panther's scream Startled it from a troubled dream. 12 ^17> 134 CENTENNIAL POEM. The black bear roamed the forest wide ; The fierce wolf tracked the mountain-side ; The wild cat's silent, stealthy tread Was, even there, a fear and dread ; The red fox barked, — a strange, weird sound, That woke the slumbering echoes round ; And the burrowing mink and otter hid In their holes the tangled roots amid-. Lords of their limitless domain, Of hill and dale, of mount and plain. The wild things dreamed not of the hour When they should own their Master's power. But he came at last ! With a sturdy hand. And a voice of deep and stern command, And an eye that looked upon friend and foe With the spell of strength in its kindling glow; With a stately presence, a mien that told That his heart was as true as it was bold, He came to his own, and proclaimed his sway. And the forest fled from his glance away I The rightful heir of the regions round. No golden circlet his forehead crowned. But he wore his youth with a kingly grace. As he proudly stepped to his destined place. Never a royal couch had he. But he made his bed 'neath a greenwood tree, And a simple garb of homespun brown Round the brave young limbs was folded down. Blithely the days and the years sped on ; The meed of his toil at length was won — A home in the wilderness, fair and sweet. Where the hill and the winding river meet. Ah ! blest was he, when the silent stars, Peering from out their cloudy bars. CENTENNIAL POEM. 135 Looked down on the lowly cot that stood Deep in the virgin solitude ; And saw the cabin windows gleam In the pleasant hearthfire's ruddy beam, While the children laughed, and the mother sang Till the walls with the merry music rang! A hundred years ! A century of change — A century of progress vast and strange ! Ah ! could the dust that under yonder sod In patient hope awaits the voice of God, Wearing the hues of ruddy life again Come forth to mingle with its fellow-men, How would the earnest, thoughtful, questioning eyes Find marvels everywhere ! In earth and skies ; On the broad seas, and where the prairies pour Their overflowing wealth from shore to shore ;m Where the Black Horses, with their eyes of fire, Scale the high mountains, panting with desire. Or thundering down the valleys, onward sweep With long, persistent strides from steep to steep ; Or where the lightning hastes, with eager thrill, To do man's bidding, and perform his will. Yet could our voices reach the slumbering dead Who rest so calmly in yon grass-grown bed, TJiis truth would seem with greatest wonder fraught, — TJiat they are heroes to our eyes and thought. For they were men who never dreamed of fame : They did not toil to make themselves a name : They little fancied that when years had passed. And the long century had died at last. Another age should make their graves a shrine, And humble chaplets for their memory twine. 136 CENTENNIAL POEM. They simply strove, as other men may strive, Full, earnest lives in sober strength to live ; They did the duty nearest to their hand; Subdued wild nature as at God's command; Laid the broad acres open to the sun. And made fair homes in forests dark and dun ; Built churches, founded schools, established laws, Kindly and just and true to freedom's cause; Resisted wrong, and with stout hands and hearts, In war, as well as peace, played well their parts. Their men were brave; their women pure and true; Their sons ashamed no honest work to do ; And while they dreamed no dreams of being great, They did great deeds, and conquered hostile Fate. We laud them, we praise them, we bless them to-day ; At their graves, as their right, tearful homage we pay ! And the laurel-crowned Present comes humbly at last. And bends by our side at the shrine of the Past. With the hands that such burdens unshrinking have borne, From the brow weary cares have so furrowed and worn, She takes off the chaplet, and lays it with tears, That she cares not to hide, at the feet of the Years. Hark ! a breath of faint music, a murmur of song ! A form of strange beauty is floating along On the soft summer air, and the Future draws near, With a light on her young fiice, unshadowed and clear. Two garlands she bears in the arms that not )'et Have toiled 'neath the burden and heat of tlie day; Lo ! both are of Amaranth, fragrant and wet With the dew of remembrance, and fadeles'S alway. Oh ! well may we hush our vain babblings — and wait ! He who merits the crown, wears it sooner or late ! On the brow of the Present, the grave of the Past, The wreaths they have earned shall rest surely at last ' TIIK THREE SHIPS. 137 THE THREE SHIPS. Over the waters clear and dark Flew, like a startled bird, our bark. All the day long with steady sweep Seagulls followed us over the deep. Weird and strange were the silent shores, Rich with their wealth of buried ores; Mighty the forests, old and gray, With the secrets locked in their hearts away ; Semblance of castle and arch and shrine Towered aloft in the clear sunshine; And we watched for the warder, stern and grim, And the priest with his chanted prayer and hymn. Over that wonderful northern sea. As one who sails in a dream, sailed we-j^ Till, when the young moon soared on high. Nothing was round us but sea and sky. Far in the east the pale moon swung, — A crescent dim in the azure hung; I 2 * 138 THE THREE SHIPS. But the sun lay low in the glowing west, With bars of purple across his breast. The skies were aflame with the sunset glow, The billows were all aflame below; The far horizon seemed the gate To some mystic world's enchanted state; And all the air was a luminous mist, Crimson and amber and amethyst. Then silently into that fiery sea — Into the heart of the mystery — Three ships went sailing, one by one. The fairest visions under the sun. Like the flame in the heart of a ruby set Were the sails that flew from each mast of jet ; While darkly against the burning sky Streamer and pennant floated high. Steadily, silently, on they pressed Into the glowing, reddening west ; Until, on the for horizon's fold, They slowly passed through its gate of gold. You think, perhaps, they were nothing more Than schooners laden with common ore? Wliere Care clasped hands with grimy Toil, And the decks were stained with earthly moil? THE THREE SHIPS. Oh, beautiful ships, who sailed that night Into the west from our yearning sight, Y\\\\ well I know that the freight ye bore Was laden not for an earthly shore ! To some far realm ye were sailing on, Where all we have lost shall yet be won ; Ye were bearing thither a world of dreams, Bright as that sunset's golden gleams; And hopes whose tremulous, rosy flush, Grew fairer still in the twilight hush. Ye were bearing hence to that mystic spliere Thoughts no mortal may utter here, — Songs that on earth may not be sung, — Words too holy for human tongue, — The golden deeds that we would have done, — The fadeless wreaths that we would have won'! And hence it was that our souls with you Traversed the measureless waste of blue. Till you passed under the sunset gate. And to us a voice said, softly, "Wait !" 139 I40 THE GHOST. THE GHOST. Wandering on where the smiling river Winds through the fields to the steepled town ; Pausing now where the aspens quiver, Now where the hazel-nuts are brown ; Lingering under the solemn arches, Lifted against the far blue skies, Where the pines and the feathery larches Cross their boughs as they soaring rise; Loitering long where sudden glimmers Tell that the mill-wheels plash and play Under the bank, like sturdy swimmers. Tossing the surf and the silvery spray; Threading the path through the daisied meadow Down to the dell so dark and cool, Where in the hemlock's fragrant shadow Harebells nod by the drowsy pool ; In at the school-house windows peering, — Reading the names on the whitewashed wall; And in the shadowy stillness hearing Voices that now are silent all ; Then at last in the chancel olden Kneeling down with a wordless prayer, While the glow of a sunset golden Falls like a benediction there. "I A' TO THY HANDS." Out again where the twilight splendor Flushes the hi 11- tops ere it dies, — Watching the young stars, pure and tender, Opening softly their lustrous eyes; Wondering if in its wonted glory Von moon rises behind the pines, — If it repeats the same old story As with the olden light it shines ! Ah, my friend ! I have not been lonely Wandering thus through the livelong day; One revealed to my senses only Has been with me all the day I If I mused in the grassy hollow. Shook the nuts from the beechen tree. Or watched the flight of the skimming swallow, The ghost of my childhood walked with me ! 141 ''INTO THY HANDS." Into thy hands, O Father ! Now at last, Weary with struggling and with long unrest, Vext by remembrances of conflicts past And by a host of present cares opprest, I come to thee and cry. Thy will be done ! Take thou the burden I have borne too long; Into thy hands, O mighty, loving One, My weakness gives its all, for thou art strong! 142 DECEMBER 26, 1910. For life— for death. I cannot see the way; I blindly wander on to meet the night; The path grows steeper, and the dying day Soon with its shadows will shut out the light. Hold thou my hand, O Father ! I am tired As a young child that wearies of the road ; And the far heights towards which I once aspired, Have lost the glory with which erst they glowed. Take thou my life, and mould it to thy will; Into thy hands commit I all my way; Fain would I lift each cup that thou dost fill, Nor from its brim my pale lips ever stay. Take thou my life. I lay it at thy feet ; And in my death my sure support be thou ; So shall I sink to slumber calm and sweet. And wake at morn before thy face to bow ! DECEMBER 26, 1910. A BALLAD OF MAJOR ANDERSON. Come, children, leave your playing this dark and stormy night , Shut fast the rattling window-blinds, and make the fire burn bright; And hear an old man's story, while loud the fierce winds blow. Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago. DECEMBER 26, 1910. lA-? I was a young man then, boys, but twenty-nine years old. And all my comrades knew me for a soldier brave and bold; My eye was bright, my step was firm, I measured six feet two, Anil I knew not what it was to shirk when there was work to do. ^Vc were stationed at Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor, then, A brave l)antl, though a small one, of scarcely seventy men ; And day and night we waited for the coming of the foe, With noble Major Anderson, just fifty years ago. Were they French or English, ask you? Oh, neither, neither, child ! ^Ve were at peace with other lands, and all the nations smiled On the stars and stripes, wherever they floated far and free, And all the foes we had to meet we found this side the sea. But even between brothers bitter feuds will sometimes rise. And 'twas the cloud of civil war that darkened in the skies; I have not time to tell you how the quarrel first began. Or how it grew, till o'er our land the strife like wildfire ran . I will not use hard words, my boys, for I am old and gray, And Fve learned it is an easy thing for the best to go astray ; 144 DECEMBER 26, 1910. Some wrong there was on either part, I do not doubt at all; There are two sides to a quarrel — be it great or be it small ! But yet, when South Carolina laid her sacrilegious hand On the altar of a Union that belonged to all the land ; When she tore our glorious banner down and trailed it in the dust, Every patriot's heart and conscience bade him guard the sacred trust. You scarce believe me, children. Grief and doubt are in your eyes, Fixed steadily upon me in wonder and surprise; Don't forget to thank our Father, when to-night you kneel to pray, That an undivided people rule America to-day. We were stationed at Fort Moultrie, — but about a mile away. The battlements of Sumter stood proudly in the bay; 'Twas by far the best position, as he could not help but know, Our gallant Major Anderson, just fifty years ago. Yes, 'twas just after Christmas, fifty years ago to-night; The sky was calm and cloudless, the moon was large and bright ; At six o'clock the drum beat to call us to parade. And not a man suspected the plan that had been laid. But the first thing a soldier learns is that he must obey, And that when an order's given he has not a word to say; DECEMBER 26, 1910. 14^ So when told to man the boats, not a question did we ask, But silently, yet eagerly, began our hurried task. We did a deal of work that night, though our numbers were but few; We had all our stores to carry, and our ammunition too ; And the guard-ship — 'twas the Nina — set to watch us in the bay. Never dreamed what we were doing, though 'twas almost light as day. We spiked the guns we left behind, and cut the flag-staff down, — From its top should float no colors if it might not hold our own, — Then we sailed away for Sumter as fast as we could go. With our good Major Anderson, just fifty years ago. I never can forget, my boys, how the next day, at noon. The drums beat and the band played a stirring martial tune. And silently we gathered round the flag-staff, strong and high. Forever pointing upward to God's temple in the sky. Our noble Major Anderson was good as he was brave. And he knew without His blessing no banner long could wave ; So he knelt, with head uncovered, while the chaplain read a prayer. And as the last amen was said, the flag rose high in air. Then our loud huzzas lang out, far and widely o'er the sea ! We shouted for the stars and stripes, the standard of the free ! 13 146 FROM BATON ROUGE. Every eye was fixed upon it, every heart beat warm and fast, As with eager lips we promised to defend it to the last ! 'Twas a sight to be remembered, boys, — the chaplain with his book, Our leader humbly kneeling, with his calm, undaunted look; And the officers and men, crushing tears they would not shed, — And the blue sea all around us, and the blue sky over- head ! Now, go to bed, my children, the old man's story's told, — Stir up the fire before you go, 'tis bitter, bitter cold; And I'll tell you more to-morrow night, when loud the fierce winds blow. Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago. FROM BATON ROUGE. From the fierce conflict and the deadly fray A patriot hero comes to us this day. Greet him with music and with loud acclaim, And let our hills re-echo with his name. Bring rarest flowers their rich perfume to shed, Like sweetest incense, round the warrior's head. Let heart and voice cry ''welcome," and a shout. Upon the summer air, ring gayly out, J-'KOM BAl^O.V ROUGE. 147 To hail the hero, who from fierce affray And deadly conflict comes to us this day. Alas ! alas ! for smiles ye give but tears, And wordless sorrow on each face appears. And for glad music, jubilant and clear, 'J'he tolling bell, the muffled drum, we hear. Woe to us, soldier, loyal, tried, and brave. That we have naught to give thee but a grave. Woe that the wreath that should have decked thy brow, Can but be laid upon thy coffin now. WoQ that thou canst not hear us when we say, — "Hail to thee, brother, welcome home to day!" O God, we lift our waiting eyes to Thee, And sadly cry, how long must these things be? How long must noble blood be poured like rain, Hooding our land from mountain unto main? How long from desolated hearths must rise The smoke of life's most costly sacrifice? Our brothers languish upon beds of pain, — Father, O Father, have they bled in vain? Is it for naught that they have drunken up The very dregs of this most bitter cup? How long? how long? O God! our cause is just, And in Thee only do we put our trust. 148 THE VERMONT VOLUNTEERS. As Thou didst guide the Israelites of old Through the Red Sea, and through the desert wold, Lead Thou our leaders, and our land shall be For evermore, the land where all are free ! ^ if. if- -^ :!(. -^ Hail and farewell, — we whisper in one breath, As thus we meet thee, hand in hand with death ! God give thy ashes undisturbed repose Where drum-beat wakens neither friend nor foes; God take thy spirit to eternal rest, And, for Christ's sake, enroll thee with the blest ! THE VERMONT VOLUNTEERS. 1863. Four years, four little years ago, through all our sunny land. Sat wives and mothers, calmly blessed, beside each house- hold band ; And still the bright days glided on, and quiet nights dropped down, Wrapping in one soft web of dreams, cot, hamlet, vale, and town. Our sturdy husbands held the plow, or cast the shining grain ; Our sons and brothers gayly toiled on hill-side and on plain ; THE VERMONT VOLUNTEERS. 149 At forge and anvil, mill and loom, in all the marts of trade, And where primeval forests throw a grand, eternal shade. They raised the marble from its bed, upon the mountain- side ; They joyed through wild and devious paths, the iron horse to guide ; And sonie of studious eye and brow, labored with tongue and pen. Breathing high words of lofty cheer, to bless their fellow- nien. But sometimes as we sat at ease, in that serenest air, \\'e wondered if brave hearts and bold, found fitting nur- ture there ; We wondered if our mountaineers were valiant as of old, — If "cloth of frieze" were still found matched, with cost- 'liest "cloth of gold." And, haply, earnest souls, when thrilled by some quaint, olden story, The ages have brought dowai to us, haloed wdth solemn glory, Sighed for the grand, heroic days, they thought forever past, And deemed the present cold and tame, prosaic to the last. And cheeks of maidens flushed and paled, as deeply pon- dering o'er Some page of old romance, or tale of legendary lore, 150 THE VERMONT VOLUNTEERS. They read of tilt and tournament, and fields of daring high, Where knights for ladies' love were proud, nobly to do or die. A bugle blast rang through the land, a war-cry loud and shrill ; Each mountain peak caught up the strain, hill sent it back to hill; "To arms! to arms ! ye stalwart men, for freedom and for God, And tread yourselves the glorious paths your noble sires once trod !" Ah ! were they false or craven then ? or lagged they by the way? We talk not now of Marathon, nor ''old Platea's day;" We speak not of Leonidas, nor of Thermopylse, Where Persian thousands poured their blood, a dark, en- crimsoned sea. Nor do we tell, with tremulous lip, how Spartan mothers bade Their sons go out to meet the foe, with strong hearts un- dismayed, And sternly told them to come back, "bearing their shields or on them," — Our boys went forth tvithout their shields, to bloody fields, and won them ! ; . Oh ! paled for us the golden light of all the old romances ! True heroism does not die, as age on age advances; We know the story of to-day has all the old-tim'=' splendor, And that men's hearts are bold and brave, as they are true and tender ! THE VERMONT VOLUNTEERS. 15 j That fearful charge at Lee's Mills, across the rushing river, Where they saw in lines of rifle-pits tlie foemen's bayonets quiver, While cannon thundered over them — the men at Balaklava, So famed in story and in song, did nothing any braver. At Bethel and Manassas, from Yorktown on, to where The swamjw of Chickahominy poured death upon the air; On the deadly field of Antietam and many a one beside, Our brave boys wrote their names in blood, — then cheered the flag and died. At Fredericksburg and Marye's Hill and Gettysburg they bore Their colors bravely in the front until the strife was o'er; At Baton Rouge brave Roberts fell, bleeding from many a wound. At Newbern noble Jarvis poured his life-blood on the ground. Ye tried, and true, and loyal ones, what words of mine can tell How in your country's inmost heart, your memories shall dwell ? The record of your glorious deeds shall live for evermore, Till Heaven and Earth shall pass away, and Time itself be o'er. And oh ! ye honored dead who lie in unmarked graves this day, O'er which no friend may ever weep, nor wife nor mother pray- Yet Earth shall hold in glad embrace the sacred, solemn trust, And God and all his angels watch over each soldier's dust. 152 yi/^F 6, 1864. MAY 6, 1864. How beautiful was earth that day ! The far bkie sky had not a cloud ; The river rippled on its way, Singing sweet songs aloud. The delicate beauty of the spring Pervaded all the murmuring air; It touched with grace the meanest thing And made it very fair. The blithe birds darted to and fro, The bees were humming round the hive, So happy in that radiant glow ! So glad to be alive ! And I? My heart was calmly blest. I knew afar the war-cloud rolled Lurid and dark, in fierce unrest, Laden with woes untold. But on that day my fears were stilled ; The very air I breathed was joy; The rest and peace my soul that filled Had nothing of alloy. As round our humble cottage home I moved, on household tasks intent, Glad thoughts of days when he should come To bless me, with me went. M.-1V 6, 1 864. le^ Our little