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BLADES AND BLOSSOMS 
 
Blades and Blossoms 
 
 BY 
 
 RACHEL Q. BUTTZ 
 
 ^ VaRTI et VERITATIi ft 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 I9II 
 
Copyright, 19x1, by Rachel Q. Buttz 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A 
 
 tit 
 
 )CLA300462 
 
The blade of grass, the blossom fair, 
 God's wisdom and his love declare; 
 And tree and cloud and sunshine sweet, 
 And every passing breeze, repeat. 
 
 O child of man! where'er thou art, 
 Lift up in praise thy grateful heart, 
 And join with earnest voice, the song 
 Which rivers, rocks and hills prolong. 
 
To the friends whose love and sympathy- 
 have been like warm sunshine and gentle show- 
 ers to my heart, do I dedicate these 
 
 BLADES AND BLOSSOMS 
 
 R. Q. B. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Blades and Blossoms 13 
 
 Springtime 14 
 
 Wild Flowers 15 
 
 White Clover Blossoms 16 
 
 A Floating Blade 17 
 
 A Prayer 18 
 
 My Castle 19 
 
 My Mother 19 
 
 Uncle Billy's 20 
 
 In the Woods 22 
 
 At Moonrise 23 
 
 The Little Hop-Gatherers 24 
 
 Immortelles 26 
 
 Autumn Leaves 27 
 
 White Chrysanthemums 29 
 
 Lovers 30 
 
 Fireside Fancies 31 
 
 A Winter Thought 32 
 
 Peace 33 
 
 A New Year's Lesson 35 
 
 Only a Memory 36 
 
 A Daydream 37 
 
 Queries 40 
 
 The Fellowship of Suffering 41 
 
 Beautiful Hills of the Blest 42 
 
 9 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 "Weeping at Night, Joy in the Morning". ... 42 
 
 Light After Darkness 44 
 
 My Need 45 
 
 A Mother's Love Song 45 
 
 To Mabel 46 
 
 Mother's Wishes 47 
 
 A Score of Years 48 
 
 Wayside Roses 49 
 
 To My Old Sweetheart 50 
 
 Among the Maryland Mountains 51 
 
 My Country Home 54 
 
 Responsive Hearts 55 
 
 Mabel's Twentieth Birthday 56 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier 57 
 
 A Supplication 59 
 
 By Chautauqua Lake 59 
 
 The Old Captain's Advice 60 
 
 To Children on the Playground 62 
 
 Cheer Up 63 
 
 An Elder Brother 64 
 
 For Weary Workers 65 
 
 An Invocation to Sleep 65 
 
 My Sister 67 
 
 To a Fellow-Poet 68 
 
 One Year 69 
 
 Two Flowers 69 
 
 In Absence 71 
 
 Pansies 72 
 
 10 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 My Friends 72 
 
 In Memoriam 73 
 
 A Memento 75 
 
 A Souvenir 76 
 
 In Memory of A. A. A. P 78 
 
 Resurrection Thoughts 79 
 
 A Tiny Bud 80 
 
 A Fragment 80 
 
 A Lamb of the Upper Fold 81 
 
 An Aged Pilgrim 81 
 
 Unburdened 84 
 
 Submission 84 
 
 The Angels' Message 85 
 
 Vesper Thoughts 86 
 
 Sweet Memories 87 
 
 Ideal Life 88 
 
 A Good Soldier 89 
 
 Christian Duty 89 
 
 A Soul Won 90 
 
 Innocence Blossoms 92 
 
 Pursuing Onward 92 
 
 Perpetual Youth 93 
 
 A Christmas Song 94 
 
 Christmas Day 95 
 
 Wait 96 
 
 The Coming Year. . . . 98 
 
 11 
 
BLADES AND BLOSSOMS 
 
 No garnered grains, no gathered fruits are these, 
 
 For, ever as I place the treasures I 
 
 Have gleaned, before my friends, they lose their 
 
 charm, 
 Instead of golden grain, some russet blades 
 I've brought. Instead of luscious fruit, some sprays 
 Of bloom. Yet, in the thought that things like 
 
 these 
 Are not in vain, I find a solace sweet. 
 
 Because the turf on which we tread, can yield 
 No harvest of ripe grain, shall it not catch 
 The dewdrops, and reflect the glory of 
 The morning sun? Because the wild flower of 
 The woods can bear no fruit, shall it not lift 
 Its face of modest beauty, and fling forth 
 Its sweets to cheer the passer-by? 
 
 E'en blades 
 Of grass, or just the fragrance of a flower 
 May change the tenor of a human life 
 And turn the weary wanderer back from paths 
 Of sin, to seek his Father's house. If some 
 Sweet message, or some cheering thought shall twine 
 Among these Blades and Blossoms, bringing joy 
 To weary hearts, or comfort to sad homes, 
 'Tis all she asks, whose hands have brought them 
 
 fresh 
 From woods and fields. 
 
 13 
 
SPRINGTIME 
 
 Sweet spring has come to my heart again ; 
 It thrills and glows as it used to when 
 I gathered spring-beauties in yonder glen. 
 
 The air is full of songs I love; 
 Of meadow-lark and turtle-dove, 
 And robin — in the trees above. 
 
 I listen, and my lips are gay, 
 The wintry clouds all roll away — 
 And leave me free, as a child at play. 
 
 The woods and fields I wander through 
 In search of flowers, pink and blue, 
 And my heart is filled with hope anew. 
 
 In the deepening green of the springing grass 
 Which brightens the wayside as I pass, 
 I see the summer, as in a glass. 
 
 Beyond the winter, cold and drear, 
 
 Are buds and bloom 'neath skies so clear 
 
 To welcome bright-eyed springtime here. 
 
 And so, beyond this "vale of tears", 
 Beyond these dark and changeful years, 
 An everlasting spring appears. 
 
 14 
 
WILD FLOWERS 
 
 Dear wildwood flowers! 
 
 To us ye bring, 
 'Twixt sun and showers 
 
 Of gentle spring, 
 A message sweet 
 
 From the world above, — 
 That world replete 
 
 With light and love. 
 
 Ye speak of beauty 
 
 Brighter far — 
 As the sun is brighter 
 
 Than moon, or star — 
 Of fragrance sweeter 
 
 Than yours, ye sing, 
 In a land where joys 
 
 Immortal spring. 
 
 Prophets are ye 
 
 Of the glad surprise 
 The just shall see, 
 
 When from death they rise;- 
 Of the better life 
 
 Which cometh sure; 
 Beyond this strife — 
 
 If we endure. 
 
 As ye lift each dawn 
 
 Your tiny forms, 
 And still bloom on 
 
 Through sun and storms; 
 Teachers are ye 
 
 In your leafy dell, 
 O beautiful wildings! 
 
 We love you well. 
 IS 
 
WHITE CLOVER BLOSSOMS 
 
 In happy days of childhood, ere my eyes 
 Had aught beheld save visions bright and good, 
 White clover blossoms were, to me, the best, 
 The sweetest, too, and fairest far of all 
 The lovely flowers that bathed their faces in 
 The morning dew, and dried them in the sun. 
 I gayly plucked them from the fragrant fields 
 And wove them into garlands sweet for those 
 I loved, or grouped in sturdy nosegays and 
 With eager hands, adorned my play-house walls; 
 While we together listened to the shrill 
 "Bob White!" which came in notes so clear across 
 The neighboring fields. 
 
 Those blossoms white bedecked 
 My path through all my early days, and filled 
 My heart with happy hopes of better things 
 To come. Now, years have stretched between those 
 
 days 
 And these; still, sight or smell of bloom like theirs, 
 Suggests the time of youth, and hope, and love. 
 Oft when I've journeyed far from home, I've seen 
 Them nestling 'mong the weeds that fringed the 
 
 road, 
 And instantly my heart has turned to scenes 
 Where smiled their kindred blossoms long before. 
 Each snowy head contains a poem quaint, 
 That "he who runs may read", and, read aright, 
 'Twill lead in higher paths than he has trod. 
 
 Ne'er shall I cease to love and laud these friends 
 Of youth. In multitudes, I've seen them sit 
 Upon the grass and mutely praise the name 
 Of Him who makes the lilies fair, and clothes 
 The grasses of the fields. Oft too, I've thought 
 
 16 
 
That once while night's fair Queen in solemn state 
 And silvery beauty sailed through realms of blue, 
 These from her misty train were lost, and they 
 Have floated down to rest on grassy beds, 
 And cheer us with the thought that on this earth 
 There's something fair and good. 
 
 A FLOATING BLADE 
 
 September winds blow gently through the corn, 
 Whose russet blades sway softly, to and fro, 
 With cheerful murmur, as of music low; 
 One trembling blade is loosened from the stalk 
 And upward, onward borne by buoyant breeze 
 Till, lost to sight, it floats among the trees, 
 And leaves behind its fellows of the field. 
 
 Thus, gentle breezes in a human life 
 
 Have filled a soul with aspirations high 
 
 Till it has longed to leave the known and nigh, 
 
 And soar aloft to regions far beyond. 
 
 Its dreams were bright and full of hope; well 
 
 fraught 
 With love, and power and joy, of lofty thought, 
 Yet leaving all its comrades far behind. 
 
 The floating blade of corn shall yet return 
 
 To join its kindred and enrich the soil 
 
 Where corn again shall give reward to toil 
 
 (For they who work, shall have their harvest-time). 
 
 The floating blade fell low, but it shall rise 
 
 In growth and verdure, reaching toward the skies, 
 
 With all its fellow-workers of the field. 
 
 17 
 
Return, O soul, unto your own, and live 
 The poems sweet no earthly power can pen; 
 So, shall you help and bless your fellow-men, 
 And they shall be your comrades on the way — 
 For you and they together shall arise 
 And see the vision through the opening skies — 
 Where one whose name is Love, shall bid you: 
 "Come". 
 
 A PRAYER 
 
 Thy help, O Father, I beseech, 
 
 Thy blessing too, I pray; 
 For thee, my feeble hands I reach — 
 
 Oh! lead me in thy way. 
 
 Thy constant blessings crowd my path, 
 
 While I, ungrateful, dare 
 Complain so often of thy wrath, 
 
 And slight thy tender care. 
 
 Oh! teach me how to do thy will, 
 
 Submissive make my own; 
 With thoughts of thee, my heart to fill, 
 
 And thanks for mercies shown. 
 
 Then shall I e'er contented be, 
 
 And welcome all events; 
 Because, in each, by faith I see 
 
 A loving providence. 
 
 18 
 
MY CASTLE 
 
 In days gone by, when I was young, 
 
 I dwelt in a castle fine — 
 Those days on golden threads are strung, 
 
 Like jewels from the mine. 
 
 My father, lord of the castle stood; 
 
 My mother, the lady fair, 
 So wise and true, and pure and good,— 
 
 A really royal pair. 
 
 My brothers, quite varied in age and size, 
 Each a knight of some degree; 
 
 And my sister, so wonderful in my eyes — 
 A princess, she seemed to me. 
 
 And I was the baby in that fine place, 
 They called me "Little Queen", 
 
 And smiled at my wondering childish face, 
 As I questioned what they could mean. 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 I would paint with an artist's grace, 
 
 Had I the power rare, 
 My mother's beautiful, gentle face, 
 
 With its halo of silver hair. 
 
 Her cheeks had a roseate glow, 
 
 Her eyes were heavenly blue, 
 And her mouth, with its tender smile below, 
 
 Was firm, and sweet, and true. 
 
 19 
 
When I sat in my favorite place 
 
 On a stool at her dear feet, 
 I found in her sympathetic face 
 
 That love had made so sweet; 
 
 An inspiration strong 
 
 For the holy, true and high — 
 Grand deeds that to the brave belong, 
 
 And time and death defy. 
 
 For the love that glowed within 
 
 That pair of earnest eyes, 
 Oft kept me away from the paths of sin, 
 
 And led me toward the skies. 
 
 .And her hands that smoothed my hair 
 
 With their soft and sweet caress, 
 Left always the boon of a blessing there — 
 
 Those hands were born to bless. 
 
 Oh ! she was the dearest friend 
 That my happy childhood knew — 
 
 The best that a Gracious Heaven could send, 
 For her heart was always true. 
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S 
 
 When we were children and used to ride 
 With parents along the country-side 
 To visit aunts, uncles and cousins gay. 
 Who lived from our home some miles away. 
 Of all the places under the sun 
 We had the most and the best of fun 
 At Uncle Billv's. 
 
 20 
 
A neat white farm-house under the trees, 
 
 Where a low, wide porch caught the sweet south 
 
 breeze, 
 And made it a pleasant place to stay 
 On the afternoon of a summer day; 
 An old-fashioned sitting-room, clean and sweet, 
 Re-echoed the patter of many feet 
 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 But, oh! in the kitchen, large and square, 
 What cakes, pies, pickles and jellies rare, 
 Were made by Aunt Elsie's skillful hands 
 To gratify constant and keen demands 
 Of the children who played, and laughed, and cried 
 In the dear old yard, so green and wide 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 Then, there was the orchard; where pears and 
 
 plums, 
 And apples and peaches 'twixt fingers and thumbs 
 Were held so tight that the rich juice dripped 
 From hands and mouths, as we munched and sipped 
 The luscious fruit, and I never knew 
 Such royal clusters of grapes as grew 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 Sweet Johnny- jump-ups, in early spring 
 That open their eyes when the first birds sing, 
 Grew just inside of the garden gate; 
 And all sorts of good things, early and late, 
 Were 'ranged in rows by the paths that led 
 To the edge of that wonderful melon-bed 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 The years have come, and the years have gone, 
 They have left their impressions plain upon 
 Each rosy daughter and stalwart son; 
 21 
 
They have married, and gone away, one by one, 
 Until all of them now have homes of their own 
 And have left the old folks all alone 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 But still, in their happy, hale old days, 
 They walk together in chosen ways; 
 Together, they plant their early seeds, 
 And he hoes the garden, free from weeds, 
 While she, the flowers around the door, 
 Keeps fresh and blooming, as of yore 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 A few more years, and the snowy locks 
 Of his head bow low as he tends his flocks; 
 Now, too, he leans heavily on his staff, 
 While she is not as strong by half 
 As she was a very few years ago, 
 Attending her duties, to and fro, 
 
 At Uncle Billy's. 
 
 They cheer each other with feeble smile, 
 And say: "'Tis only a little while 
 Till the dear old home to strange hands must go, 
 And no more our loving care shall know; 
 But we shall find those mansions fair 
 Which Jesus said: 'I will prepare'" — 
 For Uncle Billy's. 
 
 IN THE WOODS 
 
 Within the grand old woods, I sit and dream 
 Of days that grace the past, and those that stand 
 In shining rows along my future way. 
 The past, as viewed through Memory's magic glass, 
 So glorious seems, and bright! E'en cares and 
 griefs 
 
 22 
 
Are tinted with the rose's hue — and oft 
 
 We say: "How passing good the dear old times!" 
 
 Oh! could we learn from this to love our joys 
 
 While here, to look more brightly on our cares, 
 
 And thus appreciate the present good, 
 
 'Twere well for us! 
 
 Just now the blessings which 
 Surround, are past my ken — beyond my thanks. 
 A mock-bird swings the bough above my head, 
 And warbles sweetly to his quiet mate. 
 Quails whistle gayly 'mong the bushes near; 
 And from afar the thrilling answer comes, 
 While saucy squirrels leap from branch to branch 
 And chatter of the nuts they put in store. 
 A cow-bell tinkles softly, far away, 
 And, wandering off across the fallow fields, 
 My eyes, at length, rest on a grove of trees 
 Where water flows. I see the patient kine 
 As, standing in the running stream they graze 
 The banks, or bow their heads for cooling drink. 
 
 Now, while enjoying nature's influence sweet, 
 I pray that He who spreads such beauty 'round 
 My way, will help me praise his name in song. 
 Fain would I have my future full of work, 
 JWhich shall not fail of doing good to those 
 Who share this life with me, or those who'll walk 
 Its checkered paths w T hen I am gone. 
 
 AT MOONRISE 
 
 yellow moon ! 
 One lovely June, 
 
 1 saw thee rise 
 In cloudless skies, 
 A charm hath cast 
 On all the past. 
 
 23 
 
With smile and song, 
 Life flawed along 
 In pleasant rhyme, 
 That summer-time; 
 And, day by day, 
 My heart was gay. 
 
 But oh! since then, 
 Time and again, 
 A dirge Fve sung; 
 Sad chimes have rung, 
 And sorrow's dart 
 Hath pierced my heart. 
 
 Yet looking back 
 Along life's track, 
 O yellow moon! 
 That lovely June 
 Its radiance throws 
 O'er all my woes. 
 
 THE LITTLE HOP-GATHERERS 
 
 Two little girls, one sunny day, 
 Were called by "Mother" in from play. 
 She said to them, with winning smile: 
 "Now, children, leave your play awhile, 
 And pick the hops from the loaded vine, 
 That have ripened so fast in the bright sunshine. 
 If you pick them all, and do it well, 
 One half of the hops, you may have to sell." 
 
 24 
 
Thus speaks the mother, true and kind, 
 And the little girls are glad to mind. 
 Quite willingly to work they go, 
 Not stopping till the sun is low. — 
 Through twilight hour, they then count o'er 
 What they shall buy with their small store 
 Of gold-brown hops, which they will sell 
 To some one who shall pay them well. 
 
 In village near a wise M. D. 
 Who uses "hops and such" for tea, 
 Sends word that he will take them all, 
 And "pay the cash — sometime this fall; 
 For little girls, so diligent, 
 Deserve all due encouragement; 
 Thirty cents each, you shall receive' ' — 
 And they, with childish hearts believe. 
 
 But autumn passed, and winter too; 
 And when the spring was nearly through, 
 Those maidens small began to feel 
 
 That Dr. R would almost steal. 
 
 A friend, in pity, asked the pay, 
 
 To whom the doctor answered: "Nay, 
 
 I'll never pay a single mite — 
 
 Though you should urge it day and night." 
 
 When this was told the little girls, 
 In righteous wrath, they shook their curls. 
 They thought no one could be so mean — 
 For vengeance, their desires are keen. 
 But "mother" soothes their angry grief, 
 And gives, somewhat, to their relief, 
 Rewards which reach far in excess, 
 Yet, indignation's none the less. 
 
 25 
 
Though many years have come and gone, 
 While joy and sorrow still live on, 
 Those hops will e'er remembered be 
 With sadness, while the poor M. D. 
 Receives their pity for the trick 
 Which stung them sorely — to the quick.— 
 But still they pray: "May God forgive 
 And let the erring doctor live!" 
 
 And now, my friends, serene and bland, 
 You certainly will understand — 
 These verses, written plain and true, 
 Are meant no more for him, than you: 
 Children have rights, as well as men, 
 And, if you trample on them, then 
 For the unkindness you have shown — 
 You'll surely "reap as you have sown". 
 
 IMMORTELLES 
 
 The summer's fair, sweet flowers are gone, 
 
 The summer birds have fled, 
 And summer hopes, grown pale and wan, 
 
 'Mid autumn leaves, lie dead. 
 With eager hands, I plucked the flowers, 
 
 And laughed in childish glee 
 While tripping through the leafy bowers 
 
 That summer made for me. 
 
 I joined the birds in happy strains 
 
 I sang with trembling lips, 
 The life-blood rushing through my veins, 
 
 Dyed e'en my finger-tips. 
 It dyed them deep with rosy red, 
 
 It set my cheeks aglow, 
 Wherever friends or fancy led, 
 
 Most gayly, did I go. 
 26 
 
But summer, bright with sun and bloom, 
 
 Can not forever last, 
 The flowers must yield to winter's gloom, 
 
 Our sweetest joys go past. 
 Buds oft are nipped by blighting frost, 
 
 And chilling winds oft blow, 
 Hopes that we prize, will soon be lost, 
 
 Our friends lie 'neath the snow. 
 
 And do no flowers immortal blow? 
 
 Possessed of perfume rare? 
 Ah ! yes, within our hearts may grow 
 
 By patient, loving care; 
 Blossoms, whose colors never fade, 
 
 Whose fragrance never dies, 
 By whose sweet growth within, we're made 
 
 Fit dwellers for the skies. 
 
 The sweetest flowers on earth, are those 
 
 That grow among the tares, 
 That softly shelter human woes 
 
 And sweeten human cares; 
 That o'er mistakes their fragrance fling, 
 
 And clad in beauty bright, 
 Whose swaying petals sweetly sing: 
 
 "At eve it shall be light". 
 
 AUTUMN LEAVES 
 
 Bright autumn leaves! above my head 
 
 So slowly, softly waving; 
 The light of other days, ye shed — 
 
 My soul with memories laving. 
 Ye take me back through springtimes sweet 
 
 Into glad summers growing, 
 Through autumn days, so fair and fleet, 
 
 And winter's — swiftly going. 
 27 
 
Oh, wafted back with autumn leaves, 
 
 Those childhood days seem golden; 
 A mystic girdle memory weaves 
 
 Around our homestead olden. 
 While softly now I tread the past, 
 
 And dream of days long faded, 
 Glad, glorious days — too bright to last — 
 
 For none were darkly shaded. 
 
 Within a school-house, old and brown, 
 
 Ambition's flame was lighted; 
 I conned my lessons, up and down, 
 
 With sober face recited. 
 When playtime came, on grounds so wide 
 
 In woodland sweet and grassy, 
 I gayly gamboled, side by side, 
 
 With many a lad and lassie. 
 
 But lads and lassies now are gone, 
 
 By death or distance parted; 
 As memory through the past strays on, 
 
 Full many a tear is started. 
 For nevermore on playground green 
 
 Shall we all meet together, 
 When days are bright with golden sheen 
 
 Of autumn's gorgeous weather. 
 
 O many-colored autumn leaves! 
 
 Ye deck this world of ours 
 With beauty bright, while memory weaves 
 
 A garland of spring flowers. 
 And autumn leaves in colors gay, 
 
 Repeat the same sweet story; 
 For prophets of the spring are they, 
 
 And resurrection glory. 
 
 28 
 
WHITE CHRYSANTHEMUMS 
 
 Just afternoon one bright October day, 
 
 A maiden blithe of heart and swift of step 
 
 Came forth from her sweet country home. She 
 
 paused 
 Awhile where late autumnal flowers glowed 
 In mellow sunshine. Carefully she plucked 
 A spray of white chrysanthemums. She held 
 Them up admiringly, then laid their soft 
 White petals 'gainst her cheek and gazed far off 
 Among the gorgeous trees. She seemed a part 
 Of this bright day. But life, for her was in 
 Its joyous springtime. Care or sorrow ne'er 
 Had dimmed her heart or face. Hope glowed with- 
 in, 
 And smiles without, as quickly bounding down 
 The path, she went to join her comrades whose 
 Glad voices filled the air, and echoed through 
 The woods in shout and song. Less patient than 
 The rest, a youth came forth to meet her. With 
 A smile and word of greeting, she would fain 
 Have hurried on, but he with gentle voice 
 Detained her, and requested some small sign 
 Of her regard. Half-vexed with such concern ; 
 She gayly tossed the spray of snowy flowers 
 Into his out-stretched hand. "Chrysanthemums, 
 So beautiful, but bitter sweet", he said: 
 "Are they prophetic of your love for me?" 
 
 E'en thus it proved. For months went by, and to 
 The maiden brought new scenes, new friends, new 
 
 needs, 
 New hopes and joys, and in the course of time, 
 A lover — whom she knew had filled her heart. 
 
 29 
 
No need of vain regret for him who wore 
 The spray of bitter sweet chrysanthemums; — 
 For he, too, found a heart responsive to 
 His own ; and so the spray of snow-white flowers 
 But decks the grave of youthful dreams. 
 
 LOVERS 
 
 Never before 
 On sea or shore, 
 Was love of two 
 So deep, so true, 
 So passing sweet, 
 So full, complete, 
 Or so divine — 
 As yours and mine. 
 
 If we could say 
 Why the tender lay 
 Of the matin bird 
 Is ever heard 
 To greet the sun 
 When day's begun — 
 
 Or, could we ask 
 The flowers that bask 
 In the sunshine soft, 
 Why they so oft 
 Let the gentle breeze 
 Their fragrance seize — 
 
 Then could we tell 
 Why love doth dwell 
 In the hearts of two — 
 So deep! so true! 
 
 30 
 
Ah well! Ah well! 
 Can anyone tell 
 Why sweetness grows 
 In the heart of a rose? 
 Can we read aright, 
 By human sight, 
 All nature's ways 
 Through nights and days? 
 
 For this in vain 
 Does knowledge gain 
 Her lofty steeps; 
 Still, still there sleeps 
 A secret sweet 
 In the deep heart-beat 
 Of nature's breast — 
 Which none have guessed! 
 
 So, you and I 
 Can not tell why 
 Our hearts unite 
 In love's delight, 
 Or wherefore this 
 Exceeding bliss! 
 
 FIRESIDE FANCIES 
 
 On a winter night, in a little chair — 
 
 A dainty chair of blue ; 
 Where the firelight danced in her curly hair, 
 
 Sat a litle girl I knew. 
 
 She wished to be good, and true and wise,- 
 
 As she looked with steady gaze 
 Into the fire, her dreamy eyes 
 
 Caught a glow from the ruddy blaze. 
 
 31 
 
A vision she saw in those glowing coals, 
 
 A lesson she read in the flame. — 
 How she longed to lead others to higher goals, 
 
 And win for herself a name! 
 
 A name that should glow when she was gone, 
 
 In letters of living fire! 
 Teaching the young while time moves on 
 
 To nobly and grandly aspire! 
 
 Time has left his mark on cheek and brow, 
 
 And the hair with silver gleams; 
 For the little girl is a woman now, 
 
 And she smiles on those vanished dreams. 
 
 Yet, ever before her are flickering lights 
 
 Far out on the surging main, 
 And ever beyond — are the lofty heights 
 
 That her feet would gladly gain. 
 
 A WINTER THOUGHT 
 
 Thou little spray of summer leaves 
 
 Still lingering on the bough; 
 Thy mates, the mother earth receives, 
 
 Alone, why tarriest thou? 
 
 The gay and the somber, one by one, 
 
 The yellow leaves and brown — 
 When nipped by the frost, and kissed by the sun, 
 
 Came gently floating down. 
 
 i ! ;! » /•■'■""H 1 .! '■'■■ i 
 
 But thou canst bear the Frost King's breath, 
 
 And the passionate smile of day; 
 Unhurt by the messenger of death, 
 
 Unscathed by the sun's bright ray. 
 
 32 
 
There are some who can brave the winter's storm, 
 
 And laugh at summer's heat; 
 By the glow of an inward fire kept warm, 
 
 In the strength of their souls, complete. 
 
 Oh! such an one I fain would be, 
 
 Unheeding sun or storm; 
 By the truth of God, my soul made free, 
 
 By the Spirit's fire kept warm. 
 
 PEACE 
 
 O blessed Peace ! Thou messenger from yon 
 Bright world where angels dwell! Thou gift of 
 
 gifts ! 
 From Him who more delights to give good things 
 To those who ask, than we with willing feet, 
 And careful hands and loving hearts, prepare 
 Life's comforts for our children dear! Naught else 
 Is there on earth so sweet as Peace. No gift 
 Has e'er excelled it — save the gift of God's 
 Beloved Son, and this through him, is ours. 
 
 E'er since our parents from the garden bright 
 Were driven, no sweet, enduring peace had filled 
 The souls of men. True, some had known the Lord, 
 And walked in his commands, and they were blest. 
 But multitudes of Israel's chosen race 
 Who heard the awful voice 'mid thunders loud, 
 On Sinai's smoking mount, or saw the face 
 Of Moses shine when he had talked with God, 
 Knew not the Lord, save by these tokens dread. 
 No deep, abiding faith had they, no sure 
 And steadfast love. E'en after paths made plain, 
 And blessings oft bestowed, they knew him not, 
 As Friend and Father of our fallen race. 
 
 33 
 
To them, a God of terror and of might! 
 
 His judgments right, but hard to bear, his home 
 
 Among thick clouds, his mercy only reached 
 
 By smoke from altar fires. They little dreamed 
 
 That "God so loved the world", that he in time, 
 
 Would give his own beloved Son to save 
 
 The souls of men from sin, and shame, and death. 
 
 Before he came and poured his love like balm 
 
 On wounded hearts, how drear was earth ! and peace 
 
 Was but a name. 
 
 But lo! an era dawns! 
 An era bright with smiles from God, of love 
 To men. While shepherds watched their flocks by 
 
 night, 
 The heavenly host proclaimed in accents loud 
 And clear, that blessed "Peace on earth. Good-will 
 To men" — which since has sweetly rung through all 
 The years, and filled sad hearts with thankful joy. 
 Our Savior came "to preach the gospel to 
 The poor, to heal the broken-hearted, and 
 Toi set at liberty the captives", so 
 His words brought peace, and by their influence 
 
 sweet, 
 The storm was calmed ; the body, racked with pain 
 Was cured ; the aching heart was set at rest. 
 
 Anon, the dark, dread hour came on when he 
 Must die! To those beloved, how tenderly 
 He bade farewell! How sweetly said: "Let not 
 Your heart be troubled, nor afraid. Peace leave 
 I with you, and my peace I give to you — 
 Yet not as gifts this world bestows." For earth's 
 Best gifts must perish with their use, or be 
 Destroyed by moth and rust, or cease with time. 
 But peace, our Savior's gift, will last through time 
 And all eternity. 
 
 34 
 
As if its full 
 And deep significance his friends had not 
 Yet known, he greets them: "Peace be unto you." 
 When first he comes into their midst and shows 
 His hands and side — his resurrection past, 
 That they and we, believing, might have life 
 Through him. Again, and oft, he greets them thus, 
 And when the cloud receives him out of sight, 
 He leaves sweet peace for all who trust his name. 
 
 How blest are we who know the Father-heart 
 Of God, and rest therein ! All care, and grief 
 And tears, each sorrow T of our common lot, 
 E'en death itself can well be borne, if we 
 But have God's peace within the soul. 
 
 A NEW YEAR'S LESSON 
 
 With ringing steps, a tyro takes his place 
 Upon the threshold of a world grown old 
 In seeing years begin with smiling face, 
 And end, in tears of agony untold. 
 
 But knowing naught of those who've gone before, 
 Not dreaming that defeat could him attend, 
 He lists to Hope, whose sweet, delusive lore 
 Now bids him to her sunny realm ascend. 
 
 Unquestioning, he obeys, and soars above 
 The things which make our earth a field of toil. 
 He hopes for happiness, he dreams of love, — 
 Expecting harvests rich, yet never tills the soil. 
 
 But when the end doth come, as soon it will, 
 He finds his bright anticipations vain, — 
 Not to the future bound by Hope's sweet skill, 
 But to a checkered past, by Memory's chain. 
 35 
 
ONLY A MEMORY 
 
 Only a memory now are the days 
 
 Remorseless Time aside hath cast, 
 Only a memory! still do we gaze 
 
 With delight on the glad and golden past. 
 And our hope grows brighter, our faith grows 
 
 strong 
 When we pause and listen to Memory's song. 
 
 Only a memory now are the words 
 
 Of some who graced those gladsome hours, 
 Their voices we hear like distant birds 
 
 That flit through the world 'twixt thorns and 
 flowers — 
 For a life that to us all sunshine appears 
 May be watered oft by secret tears. 
 
 Only a memory now are the forms 
 
 Of others we loved in days gone by, — 
 And 'twas hard to look through the blinding 
 storms, 
 Up to the beautiful sun-lit sky. 
 Our hearts are heavy, and tears begem 
 Our wistful eyes, when we think of them. 
 
 Of those we loved, still some remain — 
 
 A cherished, a noble, a faithful few! 
 On friendship's record, they've left no stain, 
 Though near or far, they're staunch and true. 
 Ah! such are the friends who make life dear; 
 Their love through gloom and doubt will cheer. 
 
 36 
 
Still we pause sometimes on our pilgrim way 
 
 To list to the song that Memory sings, 
 And our hearts are blessed for many a day 
 By the peace and grateful content it brings — 
 A thankful joy that the good or the ill, 
 Can only Our Father's plans fulfill. 
 
 A DAYDREAM 
 
 Under the shifting shadows 
 
 One summer afternoon, 
 Gazing into the tree-tops — 
 
 In the leafy month of June, 
 
 Sat a thoughtful little maiden 
 
 With a book upon her knee ; 
 But her eyes, so full of wonder 
 
 Its pages did not see. 
 
 For tales of a fairy enchanter 
 
 Who carried a magic wand, 
 Had kindled her youthful fancy 
 
 Until by a wave of the hand — 
 
 Life, and the smiling landscape 
 
 Both very unreal seemed; 
 And 'neath the blue arch of heaven, 
 
 With half-closed eyes, she dreamed. 
 
 She watched the snowy cloudlets 
 
 Above the tree-tops high, 
 Chasing each other swiftly 
 
 Across the solemn sky; 
 
 37 
 
A tiny one selected 
 
 When it first came into view, 
 A small white speck in the heavens — 
 
 To watch its journey through. 
 
 On, on — so fast — but gently — 
 
 Increasing in size, it came, 
 Until girlish imagination 
 
 Had given it many a name. 
 
 It became a majestic mountain 
 Where a splendid castle stood, 
 
 Whose owner, and only dweller 
 Was the little girl of the wood. 
 
 She sat by the side of a window, 
 
 Looking down on the world, so still ; 
 
 'Twas a beautiful panorama — 
 
 She wished she could have her will, 
 
 And she'd stay in the wonderful castle, 
 Those magnificent halls of light! — 
 
 But swiftly her palace changed to a ship 
 With sails of purest white. 
 
 And the little girl, delighted, 
 
 Was sailing the wide world o'er, 
 
 On, on, in that mighty ocean of blue 
 With the dim, horizon shore! 
 
 Soon, the meadows of Merry England 
 Beneath her were fresh and green, 
 
 For hers was a trackless voyage 
 O'er many a changing scene! 
 
 38 
 
Then, floating gayly onward 
 Without a backward glance, 
 
 She beheld luxurious Paris 
 In the sunny land of France. 
 
 Still merrily, merrily going 
 
 O'er hill, and river, and plain — 
 
 Gazing down on the ancient Alhambra 
 'Mid the mountains of lovely Spain. 
 
 Far higher than turreted castle 
 Her ship in the air would rise! 
 
 Over rugged peaks of Switzerland, 
 'Neath Italy's glowing skies! 
 
 But while peering into the distance 
 And straining her eyes to see 
 
 Into the great hereafter — 
 
 She woke — by the maple tree. 
 
 Where, in a delightful slumber 
 
 Lasting an hour or more, 
 A vivid imagination 
 
 Had repeated her day-dreams o'er. 
 
 Spoke the maiden very wisely, 
 
 With a glance at the clouds, so high ; 
 
 "Alas! for beautiful day-dreams! 
 They're fragile as mists of the sky." 
 
 39 
 
QUERIES 
 
 Dreamer, dreaming of the past ! 
 What dost see in life's back rooms? 
 Rubbish, thou aside hast cast? 
 Letters old? and apple blooms? 
 Faded flowers and leaflets dry? 
 Knots of ribbon? locks of hair? 
 Broken hopes? a smothered sigh? 
 These, and more, are scattered there. 
 
 Books unread, those studied o'er 
 Too often e'er to be forgot; 
 Songs once sung, now sung no more, 
 Loves that ne'er could die — 'twas thought. 
 Deeds that caused thee bitter pain, 
 Follies, spoiling many a day, — 
 Couldst thou live it o'er again. 
 Would life be more brave, or gay? 
 
 Dreamer, — from thy follies turned — 
 Dost thou now the evil shun? 
 Hast thou, from experience learned 
 What is worthy to be won? 
 Then, indeed, the days gone by 
 Vain and useless have not been; 
 If, with honest heart, you try, 
 Failure cannot be a sin. 
 
 God has promised help to those 
 Who themselves will try to aid; 
 Cast on him, thy cares and woes, 
 Trust him, and be not afraid. 
 Storms must come to all below, 
 But if thou the right wilt do, 
 Harmless, shall the tempest blow, 
 God will guide thee safely through. 
 40 
 
THE FELLOWSHIP OF SUFFERING 
 
 O sorely tried and troubled one! 
 
 With anxious fears distressed; 
 Go, cast thy grief on God's dear Son, 
 
 And he will give thee rest. 
 
 He trod the paths thy feet do tread, 
 Bore sorrows like thine own, 
 
 His soul was filled with awful dread 
 By all but him, unknown. 
 
 So, "touched with thy infirmities", 
 
 He well can give thee aid ; 
 In danger, or in darkness then — 
 
 Faint not, nor be afraid. 
 
 Dost have thy sad Gethsemane 
 Whence issue sobs and moans? 
 
 Remember Christ in agony — 
 His sweat, and tears, and groans. 
 
 And say like him : This cup of gall 
 
 O Father would I shun — 
 But, if thou bid'st — I'll drink it all, 
 
 And pray: "Thy will be done". 
 
 Then, though thine eyes drop many a tear, 
 
 Let this, thy soul sustain; 
 That "they who suffer with him here, 
 
 With him above shall reign". 
 
 41 
 
BEAUTIFUL HILLS OF THE BLEST 
 
 beautiful hills of the blest! 
 I wonder how far away 
 
 Beyond the clouds in the glowing west, 
 Or the amber gates of day — 
 
 Ye lift your radiant tops 
 
 Above this world of sins? — 
 Where the fading sight of mortal stops, 
 
 And heavenly light begins? 
 
 Between us the " river of death" 
 
 Which seemeth deep and wide; 
 But soon, on the mystic bridge of a breath, 
 
 I shall cross to the other side. 
 
 Then, "seeing as I am seen" 
 
 In that land where the weary rest, 
 
 1 shall walk with saints o'er the fadeless green 
 
 On the beautiful hills of the blest. 
 
 "WEEPING AT NIGHT, JOY IN THE 
 MORNING" 
 
 One night, a light burned dimly in the room 
 Where sat a woman lost in thought. She bowed 
 Her head against the window-pane, and peered 
 Out into darkness. Clouds o'ercast the sky, 
 'Neath which dark forests stood unmoved by e'en! 
 The faintest rustle of a breeze. She said 
 Aloud: "I better understand the heart 
 Of nature than I do my own. This calm, 
 I think portends a storm without; but what 
 Can mean the doubt and dark uncertainty 
 Through which I heaven-ward strain my eyes 
 
 42 
 
For clearer light? Oh! I would stand erect 
 Without support of any save my Lord, 
 My loving, sympathetic Lord. Thou art 
 Enough. My all-sufficient help in need; 
 I have thy promise, and my soul shall trust, 
 E'en though my eyes with tears are blind. I'll walk 
 By faith in thee, though every earthly prop 
 Should fail, and I'm bereft of all the friends 
 That make life beautiful and sweet." 
 
 At length, 
 Worn out by weariness of woe, she sought 
 Her couch and slept, unconscious of the change 
 Without. A soft wind blows. Now somber clouds 
 Which seemed immovable, are hastening on 
 To greet the coming day. Anon, they part 
 To let the sunshine through. One gentle beam 
 Awakes the sleeper. Like a ray of hope 
 It seems; and she, with heart uplifted, says: 
 "O clouds whose gilded borders peeping out 
 Beneath your soft gray folds to show that ye 
 Are lined with gold; are ye the symbols of 
 The dusky clouds which have o'erhung my life? 
 Do they indeed have golden linings? And 
 On some glad day shall sunshine from above 
 Reveal their bright and beauteous tints? Last night, 
 The frowning clouds foreboded storms, but now 
 They smilingly disperse before the sun. 
 So I must look henceforth beyond the clouds 
 To see the 'Sun of Righteousness arise 
 With healing in his wings.' " 
 
 43 
 
LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS 
 
 So wearily and drearily 
 
 Fell the rain that autumn day, 
 As one by one my hopes went down — 
 
 Till the twilight, cold and gray, 
 Closed in upon an anxious mind, 
 
 And a sorely troubled heart, 
 A will that was wholly unresigned, 
 
 And fears that would not depart. 
 
 The sky was dark above my head, 
 
 And the bitter words of prayer 
 That heart and lips alike had said, 
 
 Could find no entrance there; 
 For I did murmur and complain — 
 
 I could not understand 
 Why, long and heavily had lain 
 
 On me the Chastening Hand. 
 
 But turning to the Book, I read 
 
 Of God's beloved Son — - 
 "Perfect through suffering", it said — 
 
 I said: "Thy will be done". 
 Then a flood of glory rilled my soul, 
 
 Though the rain still dripped from the eaves 
 On the drooping heads of chrysanthemums, 
 
 And the apple-tree's faded leaves. 
 
 44 
 
MY NEED 
 
 I need thee, Lord, at early dawn, 
 
 Ere from repose I rise — 
 Before the morning light has drawn 
 
 The curtains off my eyes. 
 
 I need thee, Lord, when tiresome toil 
 Employs my hand and brain, 
 
 I need thee through the day's turmoil- 
 Its pleasure, and its pain. 
 
 And when my weary form I lay 
 
 Upon my couch to sleep, 
 I need thee, Lord, and humbly pray 
 
 That thou wilt bless and keep. 
 
 If I am thrilled with deep delight, 
 
 Or tossed on sorrow's sea, 
 I need thee, Lord, for day and night, 
 
 My soul's great need is thee. 
 
 A MOTHER'S LOVE SONG 
 
 O'er and o'er love's sweetest story 
 I will sing — so soft and low — 
 
 Sweetly sing to you, my baby, 
 Ere to slumberland you go. 
 
 'Tis a sweet and blessed pleasure 
 Thus to hold you to my heart, 
 
 With a love that knows no measure, 
 And which never shall depart. 
 
 45 
 
Nothing that may come hereafter 
 E'er can chill the mother-love — 
 
 Sweetest gift this side of Heaven — 
 Close akin to that above. 
 
 For with all things true and holy, 
 With the beautiful and pure, 
 
 Mother-love is sweetly blended, 
 And shall evermore endure. 
 
 TO MABEL 
 
 Ten years ago to-day, my child, 
 Your eyes first looked in mine 
 
 And, as they looked, you sweetly smiled — 
 That smile, I thought divine. 
 
 I fancied, as you journeyed through 
 
 'Twixt Paradise and here, 
 Your eyes had caught that wondrous blue 
 
 We see when skies are clear. 
 
 To cheeks and lips Aurora lent 
 
 Her colors, rich and rare, 
 The King of Day, a sunbeam sent 
 
 To brighten your soft hair. 
 
 Quite sure was I that none could find 
 
 Your equal on the earth — 
 'Twas marvelous that human-kind 
 
 To such as you gave birth! 
 
 But as through childhood's trying years 
 
 I teach you "line on line", 
 Quite plainly now this truth appears — 
 
 That you are not divine. 
 
 46 
 
With mother-love no longer blind, 
 
 My watchful eyes can see 
 That like the rest of human-kind, 
 
 From faults, you are not free. 
 
 But, precious child, there's help in One 
 Who "tried like us" hath been — 
 
 "The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, 
 Will cleanse us from all sin". 
 
 MOTHER'S WISHES 
 
 I wish, dear child, you may have the best 
 Of all the sweet blessings, from east to west; 
 That many rare treasurers your youth may adorn, 
 And many sweet smiles greet your life's fair morn. 
 
 I wish that your griefs and your foes may be few 
 And wish that your friends may always prove true; 
 I wish for your noonday the sun's sweet light, 
 And wish for you always, the dearest delight. 
 
 I'd wish you a life by years made long 
 And sing that wish in a poet's song — 
 But my eyes are holden — I cannnot see — 
 I know not, my child, what is best for thee. 
 
 So I leave your future in God's dear hand 
 
 To guide you safe to the better land — 
 
 Where the joy and the sorrow, the pleasure and 
 
 pain, 
 In the beautiful "sometime" shall be made plain. 
 
 47 
 
A SCORE OF YEARS 
 
 Twenty years ago to-day 
 
 In the merry month of May, 
 
 You and I were young and gay. 
 
 At the altar, side by side, 
 
 You the groom, and I, the bride — 
 
 Thrilled our hearts with loving pride, 
 
 As we said the words that never 
 Should allow our lives to sever; 
 But united them forever. 
 
 On that lovedy day in spring, 
 While our hearts did laugh and sing, 
 Feared we naught that life should bring. 
 
 Neither, at the time cared whether 
 We had bright or stormy weather, 
 So we shared the days together. 
 
 We have shared them — twenty years! 
 We have had our hopes and fears, 
 We have had our smiles and tears. 
 
 Twenty years of light and gloom, 
 Twenty years of blight and bloom, 
 Twenty years of life and tomb. 
 
 But our love has not grown cold, 
 And our hearts have not grown old, 
 Through these changes manifold. 
 
 And our faith in God grows bright, 
 As we walk by it, not sight, 
 Towards the home of heavenly light. 
 
 48 
 
Shall we on this earthly shore, 
 
 Live to see another score 
 
 Of years like those that passed before? 
 
 Twenty years, or not one year 
 It matters not to us, my dear, 
 If we can "read our title clear 
 
 To the mansions in the skies/' 
 That our glad immortal eyes 
 Shall behold with sweet surprise. 
 
 WAYSIDE ROSES 
 
 Some beautiful, blushing roses 
 
 Not far from the wayside grew 
 In a field of fragrant clover — 
 
 All wet with morning dew. 
 In the breeze they gayly nodded: 
 
 "Good morning", they seemed to say, 
 And they gained a responsive greeting 
 
 From one who passed that way. 
 
 'Twas a gentleman in his carriage, 
 
 Out taking the morning air, 
 And giving the reins to his daughter, 
 
 He gathered the roses fair. 
 "I'll carry them home to your mother, 
 
 My dear," he tenderly said: 
 They remind me of that springtime, 
 
 When she and I were wed. 
 
 49 
 
"Ah! her's were radiant blushes, 
 
 And her's was a regal air — 
 There was never another maiden 
 
 So queenly, or so fair." 
 Then the roses, brilliantly blushing, 
 
 Were placed in the daughter's hand, 
 And she, in turn, sat dreaming 
 
 Of a far-off fairy-land — 
 
 Where she found a delightful lover 
 
 Whose heart was always true — 
 And speaking aloud to her father, 
 
 She said: "He will be like you; 
 And I shall be like my mother, 
 
 Only not quite so fair" — 
 As she glanced up, archly smiling, 
 
 And stroked his whitening hair. 
 
 TO MY OLD SWEETHEART 
 
 Sweetheart, I dream of thee, 
 
 And of days in the pleasant past; 
 The morning of life again I see — 
 
 Not a cloud does the sky overcast. 
 Oh! lightly fly past the hours 
 
 In that beautiful spring of the year, 
 And brightly those wonderful wayside flowers 
 
 Bloom on in my memory, dear. 
 
 I dream again, sweetheart, 
 
 Of the summer's glowing heat ; 
 Again do the bounding pulses start, 
 
 For our summer-time was sweet. 
 And the smile on your sunny face 
 
 The flush on your rounded cheek, 
 Still added a new and nameless grace 
 
 To the words your lips did speak. 
 50 
 
Sweetheart, again I dream 
 
 In the mild autumnal air, 
 Deep, clear and full, flows time's swift stream; 
 
 For the autumn days are fair. 
 The leaves are crimson and gold, 
 
 The flowers are royally gay, 
 And our hearts are glad — they are not old — 
 
 Though our heads are frosted and gray. 
 
 Sweetheart, I dream again — 
 
 And winter comes on apace, 
 We dread it not, for closer then 
 
 Shall we draw to our resting-place. 
 From that home of truth and love, 
 
 We shall never more depart; 
 But find in the glorified joys above, 
 
 Our dreams fulfilled, sweetheart. 
 
 AMONG THE MARYLAND MOUNTAINS 
 
 Beyond the boundaries of the quaint old town 
 Of Frederick, we drove for pleasure on 
 An autumn day. The roads, by recent rains 
 Washed clean, the cool, sweet breeze that fanned 
 
 our brows, 
 And glints of golden sunshine 'twixt the clouds, 
 Each gave an added charm of sweet delight. 
 
 Past homes of wealth, whose inmates idly live 
 For pleasure through the summer's heat; past farms 
 Where useful toil prepares the produce for 
 Next market day; past "orchards fruited deep", 
 And gardens gay; past humble cots where dwell 
 The poor who eke subsistence out of soil 
 Between the rocks; we slowly drove toward 
 The mountain top. 
 
 51 
 
We paused sometimes to catch 
 Sweet glimpses of the valley left behind, 
 And grander views of mountains which outline 
 A picture fair to see. For Sugar Loaf, 
 And Heights of Maryland and Bolivar, 
 All ranged within our view. 
 
 Alighted at 
 The spring by Braddock still made famous till 
 This day, we drank of water cool and clear 
 Where weary soldiers slaked their thirst in days 
 Long gone. A stone, immense and smooth forms 
 
 roof 
 Above the basin which contains the spring; 
 Thus heat and dust are kept aloof, and all 
 Unknowing might some thirsty one pass by — 
 So well concealed by kindly shelter is 
 The water, pure and sweet. We knelt upon 
 The entrance rocks, and peering in, found ferns 
 And mosses, clinging to the walls inside; 
 While sunbeams on the water made more clear 
 The pebbles underneath. We noted, too, 
 The gurgling stream which left the spring and lost 
 Itself among the mountain rocks and shrubs; 
 And other charms by Nature's lavish hands 
 Spread forth; but paused not long, for we would 
 
 reach 
 The mountain top and see the valley on 
 The other side. 
 
 So gradual our ascent, that ere 
 We thought the summit reached, our eyes beheld 
 The fair, sweet vale of Middle town, with blue 
 And beautiful South Mountain, standing as 
 A background for the scene. Here fertile farms 
 Before us lay in panoramic view, 
 A rivulet wound back and forth between 
 The fields and groves, and over all there hung 
 A dreamy vail of blue. We lingered till 
 52 
 
The sun declining, gave us warning that 
 'Twas time to turn our steps toward Frederick- 
 town. 
 Another road, less used, but picturesque 
 With rocks moss-grown, and lichen-covered, was 
 To be our homeward way. With many a glimpse 
 Of grandeur 'twixt the trees, where lay our path 
 We journeyed slowly on; with frequent halts 
 To gather ferns, and golden-rod, and moss, 
 And stones, to serve as souvenirs in days 
 To come. 
 
 Here, High Knob reared his stately head 
 Above this scene of peace as proudly as 
 In days gone by, he over-looked the course 
 Of war. Not one grim smile he gave us, as 
 We passed him by. Beyond, were solemn rocks, 
 Whose columns, vast and grand, formed temples 
 
 where 
 The reverential soul must humbly bow 
 In worship of the Infinite. 
 
 Anon, 
 A vine-clad cottage we espied far up 
 Among the cliffs, and wondered what strong soul 
 Was being nurtured there. Then, too, we met 
 A group of bright-eyed children on their way 
 From school, and asked: "Do future statesmen lift 
 Inquiring eyes to ours? And shall these girls 
 Whose shy, sweet faces smile on us to-day, 
 Find inspiration here for song, or grand 
 Romantic tale, to win them crowns of fame?" 
 Ah! little do we know; for stranger things 
 Have chanced in this strange world. 
 
 A sudden turn 
 Then gave a tranquil view of verdant vales, 
 And soon we left the rugged cliffs behind. 
 A house, which stands just here in sight of each, 
 Has favored inmates; for must not their souls, 
 53 
 
These wonders manifold beholding, turn 
 Devoutly to the Great Creator of 
 Them all? 
 
 In mood like this we silently 
 Pursued our way, until we neared the town. 
 Then, looking back, we saw the mountains loom 
 In dark blue grandeur 'gainst the sky. The sun, 
 Half-hidden by the clouds, came forth and gave 
 One brilliant farewell smile, just as we, each 
 To all, had said: "Good night". 
 
 MY COUNTRY HOME 
 
 My country home! again I turn 
 
 My willing feet to thee, 
 Ambition's lofty castles spurn 
 
 And halls of revelry. 
 
 The city, gay with pomp and pride, 
 
 Some brief days I enjoy, 
 Yet turn away, unsatisfied — 
 
 As from an idle toy. 
 
 Lakes, hills and plains, I travel o'er 
 
 'Neath sunny skies I roam, 
 Beholding scenes far-famed of yore — 
 
 Yet turn with joy to home. 
 
 'Tis not that on the mountain side 
 
 It doth in splendor shine, 
 That I recall, with throb of pride, 
 
 This country home of mine ; 
 
 54 
 
Not that it hath such stately halls 
 
 Where I from labor, rest — 
 But, oh! within its four dear walls 
 
 Are those I love the best. 
 
 And o'er its fields and forests free 
 
 My steps at will may roam, 
 With none to chide or censure me — 
 
 For — magic word — 'tis home. 
 
 Sweet country home ! thy skies above 
 Thy meadows broad and green, 
 
 Thy flowers, and birds, and trees, I love — 
 The fairest on earth I ween! 
 
 RESPONSIVE HEARTS 
 
 As song-birds love the waving forests, 
 
 And flowerets smile 'neath the shining dew, 
 
 All nature responds to the cheering sunshine, 
 Let human hearts be responsive too. 
 
 Why not like flowers, just gather sweetness? 
 
 And lift our eyes the sun to see? 
 Let joy overflow from the heart's repleteness — 
 
 Like birds that sing in the forest tree? 
 
 And so, without our own volition, 
 Shall come to the inner life apart — 
 
 Come, like the sunbeam's joyous mission 
 To the waiting flower — a warmth of heart. 
 
 55 
 
MABEL'S TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY 
 
 Twice ten to-day! Why can it be 
 
 My child has lived a score of years? 
 It seems but yesterday since she 
 
 A baby, 'twixt her smiles and tears, 
 Clung to my gown with dimpled hands 
 
 That coaxed me oft to share her play; 
 Made sweet, imperious demands, 
 
 And ruled me with a, gentle sway. 
 
 Now where have gone those twenty years ? 
 
 I wonder if I am awake? — 
 I dream — again I dry her tears, 
 
 And in my arms, my baby take. 
 But, ah! her weight doth waken me, 
 
 And fearing I shall let her fall — 
 I ope my eyes — and look — and see 
 
 A maiden who has grown quite tall. 
 
 But still she comes with tears or smiles — 
 
 She brings them all to mother's knee, 
 And with her charming ways, beguiles 
 
 Me into many a fantasy. 
 She even says that I must see 
 
 She now is quite a woman grown; — 
 How can I though ? She'll always be 
 
 A child to me — my very own. 
 
 Yet as I gaze, more thoughtful now, 
 
 Upon the face to me so dear; 
 I see its seal upon her brow, 
 
 And know that womanhood is here 
 And in her eyes hath deeply smiled ; — 
 
 So, smiling back, I only say 
 What shall I wish for thee, my child, 
 
 On this, thy twentieth natal day? 
 
 56 
 
Recalling now thy childhood days, 
 
 I dwell upon them tenderly; 
 How all thy added winsome ways 
 
 Thy mother greeted gratefully! 
 Thus would I greet thy womanhood, 
 
 And pray that it may prove to thee 
 As fair, and sweet, and pure, and good 
 
 As womanhood can ever be! 
 
 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 
 
 Blest Whittier ! beloved bard ! 
 
 So dear to fellowmen 
 Because their need thou didst regard; 
 
 And bade them rise again. 
 
 Thou who didst share thy brother's wrongs, 
 
 And plead for the oppressed; 
 Hast sung for us the sweetest songs 
 
 Of labor, and of rest. 
 
 "The Barefoot Boy, with cheek of tan", 
 
 A kindred tie hath been 
 To link sweet child-hearts to the man 
 
 Who shunned the paths of sin. 
 
 "Maud Muller" — sweet and simple lore — 
 
 A lesson taught to all ; 
 And lovers, warned by thee, no more 
 
 In vain their dreams recall. 
 
 While travelers still "Tent on the Beach" 
 
 And seek sweet summer rest, 
 Their loving hands shall ever reach 
 
 For thee, their poet-guest. 
 
 57 
 
As long as homes are still "Snow-bound" 
 
 In any northern land, 
 There, shall thy cheerful songs, be found 
 
 In many a heart and hand. 
 
 Whittier! thy name revered 
 Shall be forevermore — 
 
 Long as our country's fame is cheered 
 And sung from shore to shore! 
 
 Long as man feels his brother's need, 
 
 Or sympathy is sweet; 
 Thy name, a household word indeed, 
 
 Our lips shall still repeat. 
 
 Dear Whittier! kind poet-friend, 
 That thou my want couldst see, 
 
 And cheer and comfort oft didst send — 
 I thank my God, and thee! 
 
 Thy "Angel Patience" sat with me 
 Beside the couch of pain; 
 
 1 slowly learned, as taught by thee, 
 That loss is sometimes gain. 
 
 Since thou hast passed "the covered way 
 
 Which opens into light" — 
 Full many "a blinded child" shall pray: 
 
 "Lord, unto me give sight 
 
 "That I may look beyond the care, 
 Beyond the pain and strife — 
 
 Into the freer, purer air 
 Of thy Eternal Life!" 
 
 58 
 
A SUPPLICATION 
 
 Inspire me Lord ! let me inspire 
 
 Some soul to do thy will; 
 Oh! touch my lips with holy fire! 
 
 Let me thy truth instill. 
 
 Uplift me Lord! let me uplift 
 
 The fallen and the weak, 
 Who down the stream of time, adrift, 
 
 Thy face will never seek; 
 
 Unless some friend of theirs and thine 
 
 Shall lend a helping hand, 
 And hold the Lamp of Light divine 
 
 So they can understand. 
 
 BY CHAUTAUQUA LAKE 
 
 Softly sheltered by shadows 
 
 Swaying to and fro, 
 Wistfully watching the wavelets 
 
 Swiftly come and go — 
 I wonder why some so rashly 
 
 Are rushing against the shore, 
 And some, so peacefully passing, 
 
 Are seen and heard no more. 
 
 Like unto human wavelets 
 
 Rippling the sea of life, 
 Losing themselves in silence, — 
 
 Raging in noisy strife. 
 How sweet to recall the promise 
 
 That was made for you and me! 
 "He that loseth his life, shall save it" — 
 
 E'en out of the depths of the sea. 
 
 59 
 
Musing alone no longer, 
 
 Joining the busy hum, 
 Moving with masses of people — 
 
 Swiftly they go and come; 
 Oh ! to lose myself among them 
 
 And more like Him to be, 
 Who gave his life for others, 
 
 Blest Man of Galilee! 
 
 "Peace unto } r ou", is sounding 
 
 Across the ages yet, 
 Calming the angry billows, 
 
 Hushing the strife and fret 
 In the hearts of the passing pilgrims 
 
 On the turbulent Sea of Time — 
 That out of the depths of sorrow, 
 
 They may rise to heights sublime! 
 
 THE OLD CAPTAIN'S ADVICE 
 
 A merry young lad was he 
 
 Who sat in a light boat's prow. 
 
 And questioned an old man of the sea 
 As to w r here he should sail, or how. 
 
 For many a voyage fair 
 
 Had the old sea-captain made, 
 And many a treasure, rich and rare, 
 
 From foreign lands displaj^ed. 
 
 And the lad so longed to know 
 
 How such success to gain, 
 That he begged his kind old friend to show 
 
 The way, and make it plain. 
 
 60 
 
And the captain thus replied, 
 
 With a wise and earnest look: 
 " Perhaps from danger you'll turn aside, 
 
 If I tell you the course I took. 
 
 "For the way was made quite plain, 
 
 As I sat by my mother's side, 
 When she said: 'My boy, if success you gain, 
 
 You must follow the perfect Guide'. 
 
 "It matters far less where we are, 
 
 Than in what direction we go; 
 If our compass is fixed by the polar star — 
 
 We may journey fast or slow. 
 
 "Sometimes with the favoring breeze, 
 
 Sometimes against it, we sail; 
 But we never must aimlessly lie at ease 
 
 Or drift with the adverse gale. 
 
 "With the current 'tis easy to go, 
 
 And our senses to gratify — 
 As the wily tempter says : 'Ye know 
 
 Ye shall not surely die.' 
 
 "But Satan laughs as he sees 
 
 His victims their course begin, 
 Borne on at first by the favoring breeze, 
 
 Then lost in the whirlpool of sin. 
 
 "So, my boy, never drift at ease 
 
 On the restless ocean of life; 
 But sail — be it slowly against the breeze, 
 
 Or tossed by the stormy strife. 
 
 61 
 
"And guided thus by the star, 
 
 When the storms are forever past; 
 
 You shall sail through the beautiful harbor-bar, 
 To the haven of rest at last!" 
 
 TO CHILDREN ON THE PLAYGROUND 
 
 Dear children, happy-hearted, 
 
 Out playing on the lea, 
 The journey you have started 
 
 Seems like eternity. 
 
 But as you travel onward, 
 
 The hours will shorter grow, 
 
 The days w T ill move more swiftly, 
 And years will not be slow. 
 
 So, gather up the sunbeams 
 
 That deck these long, bright days, 
 
 And flowers that smile around you 
 In all your happy plays. 
 
 Gather bright grains of wisdom, 
 
 The truest, and the best; 
 By seeking first God's kingdom, 
 
 And he will add the rest. 
 
 Then, when the days shall shorten, 
 
 And years seem all too fleet; 
 The treasured stores of morning 
 
 Shall make life's evening sweet. 
 
 And when the journey's ended, 
 
 Your longing eyes shall see 
 Beyond the flowing river 
 
 A sweet eternity. 
 
 62 
 
CHEER UP 
 
 Cheer up! little boy, cheer up! 
 
 Though you've spoiled your hat, 
 
 And broken your bat, 
 
 And lost your new ball 
 
 In that wretched fall; 
 Get up, and renew the chase, 
 You will certainly win the race — 
 Cheer up! little boy, cheer up! 
 
 Cheer up! little boy, cheer up! 
 
 Though the lesson is long, 
 
 And your comrade strong 
 
 Has the head of the class 
 
 By your fav'rite lass; 
 If again, my boy, you will try, 
 You'll succeed, my boy, by and by — 
 Cheer up! little boy, cheer up! 
 
 Cheer up! my boy, cheer up! 
 
 Though the storm-wind blows, 
 
 And you count your foes 
 
 Far more than your friends; 
 
 'Tis our God who sends 
 The storm, and he will give peace 
 When the storm shall cease. 
 Cheer up! my boy, cheer up! 
 
 Cheer up! my boy, cheer up! 
 
 Though your dreams are spoiled, 
 
 And your plans are foiled; 
 
 And you find, to your cost, 
 
 That the dearest is lost. 
 Look up! my boy, be resigned, 
 All these and more, you shall find 
 In heaven above; for "God is Love". 
 Cheer up! my boy, cheer up! 
 
 63 
 
AN ELDER BROTHER 
 
 Two children in a garden played, 
 A bright, brave boy, and little maid ; 
 A merry, prattling child was she, 
 A gallant elder brother, he. 
 
 For her, he cleared the garden path, 
 From her, he turned the buzz-bee's wrath; 
 For her, he culled the fairest flowers, 
 And built for her, the brightest bowers. 
 
 Later, he solved her hardest sums, 
 Gave her the sweetest sugar-plums — 
 Thought her the fairest of all girls, 
 With her blue eyes and sunny curls. 
 
 And she, in turn, gave loyal love, 
 She prized her brother far above 
 All other boys, and oft said she: 
 "Best brother in the w r orld is he". 
 
 She helped him too in quiet ways, 
 For which he gave full meed of praise; 
 They shared in common all their joys — 
 The happiest of girls and boys. 
 
 But time, which we sometimes call fate, 
 These comrades dear did separate, 
 She trod rough paths, he could not smooth; 
 He found deep griefs, she could not soothe. 
 
 Yet both have one Almighty Friend 
 Whose loving care shall never end; 
 To-day, and evermore the same 
 And Elder Brother is his name. 
 
 64 
 
FOR WEARY WORKERS 
 
 Ye toilers on earth's barren lands 
 With hearts and brains aweary, 
 
 Who reach aloft your pleading hands 
 With plaintive cries, and dreary; 
 
 Your God is wiser far than ye, 
 
 Your every need he knoweth, 
 And what you deem a harsh decree, 
 
 His tender mercy showeth. 
 
 Be patient then. Cease all regret, 
 And hush all vain repining; — 
 
 There never was a storm-cloud yet, 
 But had a silver lining. 
 
 Oh! firmly tread your weary ways, 
 And bravely bear your sorrows, 
 
 Remembering that the dark to-days 
 Precede the bright to-morrows. 
 
 He who with patience wins the race, 
 
 At last the prize obtaineth — 
 A home and crown in that fair place, 
 
 Where blessed rest remaineth. 
 
 AN INVOCATION TO SLEEP 
 
 O gentle slumber! Come and press thy soft 
 And soothing fingers on my brow, and close 
 My weary eyes, and calm my troubled mind. 
 Waft thou my thoughts away to dreamland where 
 In fancies sweet, I may awhile forget 
 The cares that worry and perplex. Oh! take 
 Me back to childhood when my wayward feet 
 Were guided by the careful, loving hands 
 
 65 
 
Which smoothed the paths where'er I lightly trod ; — 
 When days were full of joy, and gleeful shout 
 And song; and scarce the sun's last rays had left 
 The tree-tops ere my sleepy eyes closed on 
 My downy pillow. There in undisturbed 
 Repose I calmly lay till morning threw 
 Her roseate tints into my face. The sun's 
 Broad smile came through the open window and 
 With answering smile, I hurried out to greet 
 The birds, and other gay companions of 
 The day before. 
 
 Or, balmy sleep, come thou 
 And summon back my youth, when higher still 
 And brighter shone the sun ; when friends were 
 
 close 
 Around me, all were true and loving and 
 Their smiles made brighter still my paths. Bring back 
 The first glad days of conscious power, and toil 
 So sweet and eager that refreshing rest 
 Came on apace. Bring back those days when all 
 I met gave generously the meed of praise, 
 And life was sweet, and rich, and grand, and full. — 
 
 Now, none of those glad, care-free days return 
 Except in briefest dream, whose contrast makes 
 The present darker seem. Nor would I live 
 Them o'er. I know that it is better so; — 
 That God who gave my youth its joy, still knows 
 My need, and giveth what is best. My hand 
 In his I'll lay, and he will give me rest. 
 
 "He giveth his beloved sleep" — So says 
 
 The Word. And he, in sleep will give me strength 
 
 For conflict; patience "to endure the woes 
 
 And ills I may not cure" ; sufficient grace 
 
 For all life's need, and hope of heaven's reward. 
 
 66 
 
I'll trust my Father's love, and wait his time; — 
 Then erelong while I sleep, a dream shall come 
 Which shall transcend the dreams of youth, and I 
 Shall know when this life ends, life shall begin 
 In very truth. 
 
 MY SISTER 
 
 A picture fair in my memory staid 
 
 Of a doorstep under the cool, sweet shade; 
 
 And seated there, in the doorway breeze, 
 
 A little girl held on her knees 
 
 A baby, whose years were two, or three, 
 
 And they talked and laughed in childish glee. 
 
 You can guess? — I am sure you can, if you try — 
 That baby so loved and petted was I ; 
 And the little girl with the quiet grace, 
 And the womanly look in her eyes and face, 
 Was my sister, who with loving care, 
 Was making my childhood bright and fair. 
 
 In time, she led me away to school, 
 Where, following her, I obeyed each rule. 
 She was my pattern, and every day 
 I tried in my eager, childish way, 
 To be like her; and she did not know 
 What made the little one love her so. 
 
 With father and mother, and brothers, too, 
 We had a household, loving and true ; 
 But whenever my sister must be away, 
 For me 'twas "a long, long weary day". 
 I missed her smile, so strong and sweet, 
 And longed for the coming of her swift feet. 
 
 67 
 
Through all of my happy childhood days, 
 She cheered my tasks, and smiled on my plays. 
 She gave me a youth, long, bright and sweet ; 
 For her own had vanished with flying feet, 
 And she was a woman when childish years 
 Should have left her free from cares and fears. 
 
 She ministered daily to all our need, 
 
 A household helper in very deed. 
 
 To our parents, she was "the light of the eyes", 
 
 Till called away to their home in the skies ; 
 
 And many another, since they are gone, 
 
 Her wonderful strength has leaned upon. 
 
 TO A FELLOW-POET 
 
 A deep, delightful draught thou must have drawn 
 
 From poesy's pure fountain, else thou hadst 
 
 Not known that I, too, slaked my thirst where those 
 
 Clear waters flow. Yet how I pant for more! 
 
 Not only would I find refreshment for 
 
 My soul ; but I for other longing ones 
 
 Would bear away some cups of water cold, 
 
 And in His name, would bid them drink. 
 
 And so 
 Dear friend of those I love, the sweetest wish 
 That I can give thee in return for thy 
 Kind thoughts and words, is this: That thou mayst 
 
 give 
 Full many a cooling cup to those in need, 
 And thou, thyself, still drink more deeply from 
 The Everlasting Fount! 
 
 68 
 
ONE YEAR 
 
 'Tis just twelve months — one little year — 
 Since thou didst come, O baby dear, 
 And bring full many a smile and tear. 
 
 Though thou art small, how large a place 
 Dost claim! Thy bonny form and face 
 Shall win their way, with baby grace. 
 
 And thou, though young, hast wondrous power; 
 With joy or grief canst fill the hour, 
 And claim devotion for thy dower. 
 
 Full many a charm, my dear, is thine ; 
 Thy coaxing arms the home entwine, 
 And parents both kneel at thy shrine. 
 
 Oh ! win them, by thy gentle art, 
 
 To choose always "the better part" — 
 
 Press closer to the Over-heart! 
 
 And still, as days and years go past ; 
 O keep the trusting heart thou hast — 
 A child-like spirit to the last ! 
 
 For Jesus said in accents mild, 
 That only "as a little child" 
 Can one approach The Undefiled. 
 
 TWO FLOWERS 
 
 They bloomed in beauty, side by side, 
 
 Two flowers sweet and gay, 
 And smiling, looked with modest pride 
 
 On one who passed that way. 
 
 69 
 
She gave caressing smile and touch 
 
 Unto each blossom fair, 
 Then sighed: "Would that my life were such, 
 
 And I as free from care! 
 
 "But one who gave these flowers to me, 
 
 And I to whom they're given, 
 Are tossed by storms on life's rough sea 
 
 As we onward press to heaven. 
 
 "Would that our tiny boats might glide 
 
 Over the laughing foam, 
 And sailing slowly, side by side, 
 
 Need never more to roam! 
 
 "O flowers! nodding right and left 
 
 In the warm summer air; 
 Still of each other unbereft, 
 
 Bloom on, ye happy pair!" 
 
 The same sweet sunbeam kissed them both, 
 
 The genial shower they shared ; — 
 A wind passed by, and nothing loth, 
 
 Each tiny stalk it bared. 
 
 Then as the lady looked instead 
 
 Upon the flowerless plant; 
 With heart and face aglow, she said : 
 
 "If God my wish would grant, 
 
 "My friend and I should be like these, 
 
 Sharing the blessings given, 
 And some glad day, the same sweet breeze 
 
 Should waft us both to heaven!" 
 
 70 
 
IN ABSENCE 
 
 Dear friend, the time seems long since you and I 
 
 Have met, and face to face have talked of all 
 
 Our hearts hold dear. Yet oft, with tenderness 
 
 We turn at twilight to a theme we love, 
 
 And each, by fond Imagination's pure 
 
 And holy light, still reads the other's thought. 
 
 'Tis sweet to know that in this world of care 
 
 Two souls, like Jonathan's and David's may 
 
 Be knit so close together, that what pains 
 
 The one, must sorrow to the other bring, 
 
 And* what shall fill the heart of one with joy, 
 
 Must sparkle like a fount of gladness in 
 
 The other's breast ! Eye speaks to eye, and heart 
 
 To heart — though lips may be unmoved by words 
 
 Or smiles, and simply tremulous with weight 
 
 Of thoughts they fain would interchange, but can 
 
 No utterance find. And e'en in absence, each 
 
 Shall happier and better be because 
 
 The other lives, and with admiring eyes, 
 
 Beholds the same grand handiwork of God ! 
 
 The sun, the moon, the glowing stars possess 
 
 A sweet significance, since one so loved 
 
 Yet far away, shall gaze upon them too. 
 
 When faces fair and new are 'round thee, and 
 
 Their smiles of sweet approval, flower-like strew 
 
 Thy path, shall these content thee? And wilt thou 
 
 In glad prosperity, or in the dark, 
 
 Sad days that still may come to thee, e'er cease 
 
 To love thy trusted friend ? 
 
 71 
 
Ah, no! but when 
 Long miles shall stretch between thyself and me, 
 How sweet to know that sympathy survives, 
 And by its thrill of magic power, shall bless 
 The weary ones so tried by waiting for 
 A "hope deferred"! 
 
 PANSIES 
 
 These sweet-faced, bright-eyed pansies have I 
 
 brought 
 To show for you affection's purest thought; 
 A message sweet, these blossoms shall declare — 
 Look deep into each heart, and read it there. 
 
 Some, like a virgin soul, are clear and white; 
 Pure gold, are some, and flash their yellow light 
 Upon some petals of cerulean hue — 
 A token that the donor's heart is true. 
 
 Again, the royal purple do I bring, 
 A tribute to a Daughter of The King; 
 All colors blent in one harmonious whole — 
 Like all sweet virtues dwelling in one soul. 
 
 Oh! may this little bunch of sweet hearts-ease 
 Speak from my heart to yours, with power to please ! 
 And may your path through life be strewn with 
 
 flowers 
 Of loving thoughts, through all its days and hours! 
 
 MY FRIENDS 
 
 Oh! where are my friends? said a weary one, 
 
 As she lay on her couch of pain, 
 And thought of the days that were past and gone, 
 
 With all of their loss and gain. 
 72 
 
Some dwell afar in the sunny south, 
 
 'Mid flowers and sunshine gay; 
 And some o'er frozen fields of the north, 
 
 Pursue their lonely way. 
 
 They are scattered afar; north, south, east, west, 
 
 Are scattered the friends I love; 
 And, one by one, the brightest and best 
 
 Go home to the joys above. 
 
 Ah! there I shall find them all again 
 
 When this earthly life is done; 
 In the land that has no sorrow, nor pain, 
 
 Nor any need of the sun. 
 
 Where the Lord, our God, shall wipe all tears 
 
 That dim the longing sight; 
 Where the free, glad soul shall have no fears 
 
 In the everlasting Light! 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 So many years? It seems but yesterday, 
 Since from an open window, he and I 
 Together watched the fading beauty of 
 The sunset sky. 'Twas autumn time, as now — 
 The month of sweet October. Crimson leaves, 
 And purple, brown and gold, were falling fast. 
 The mornings cool were vocal with the songs 
 Of birds, and cheerful sounds of labor, and 
 The grass in frost and sunshine sparkled 'neath 
 Our feet, as day by day, we schoolward trod. 
 At noon, we loitered back through air as soft 
 And warm as balmy June. The afternoons 
 Were spent in toil among our books. For each 
 Himself the text must read, the problem hard 
 
 73 
 
Must solve, and each while poring o'er the page, 
 
 Had dreams of future fame. When even-tide 
 
 Came on, our minds well-stored with bookish lore, 
 
 Rebounded from the task, and with delight 
 
 We hailed the twilight hour. Then came the talk 
 
 Of home and friends; the happy, humorous talk — 
 
 The gay reply, or laugh at merry jest. 
 
 Anon, our mood had changed. We solemnly 
 
 Discoursed upon the days of old, and those 
 
 To come. Eternal things with reverence 
 
 Were touched; — then turned we to the landscape 
 
 fair, 
 And quietly enjoyed its loveliness. 
 Beyond the din and roar of city streets, 
 A stretch of autumn-tinted woodland rose, 
 In midst of which an arsenal towered high, 
 And from its summit waved "the stars and stripes". 
 At sight of freedom's flag, with hearts afire, 
 And cheeks aglow, right loyally we praised 
 Our country; but deplored her ills, and raised 
 To heaven unuttered prayers for her best weal. 
 Then soaring up to cloud-land, dwelt we there, 
 Until the silent stars came, one by one, 
 To warn us that the twilight hour had gone. 
 
 And he is gone ! That autumn was his last 
 On earth. The next, October winds sighed o'er 
 His grave, and his pure spirit dwelt in realms 
 Unknown by us below. The seasons come, 
 And go; and still when trees are gorgeous, and 
 A smoky softness veils the skies, our hearts 
 Cry out and ask: "Where art thou, friend beloved? 
 What seest thou? and what is thy employ? 
 What are thy joys? and dost thou think of us?" 
 No answer comes. We hope for none, yet know 
 That all is well. God wisely draws a veil 
 Before our longing eyes, and bids us wait. 
 
 74 
 
Yet oft, a youthful face made fair by truth's 
 Ingenuous smiles, appears before us when 
 We dream of days gone by ; and lips that long 
 Have worn the seal of silence, now declare 
 That he forgets us not, — e'en as he would 
 Not be forgot by those he loved. 
 
 Fain would 
 I have this simple tribute prove to all 
 Who knew and loved him and lament 
 Their loss, that I, his friend, do join with them 
 In sympathy sincere; and though my words 
 Inadequate and poor may be, yet would 
 I testify to purity and worth. 
 
 A MEMENTO 
 
 Beyond all pain and pining, 
 At Jesus' feet reclining 
 
 Thou art at rest; 
 Our love doth still enfold thee, 
 Yet would we not withhold thee 
 
 For thou art blest. 
 
 At thought of thy departing, 
 
 E'en while the tears are starting — 
 
 Our voices raise 
 Unto the God w T ho gave thee 
 The Christ who died to save thee, 
 
 In notes of praise. 
 
 For nobly hast thou striven, 
 And unto us hast given 
 
 A pattern fair; 
 Which Time nor Death can alter, 
 To guide us when we falter — 
 
 Or might despair. 
 
 75 
 
Earth-life sometimes is dreary, 
 And eager feet grow weary 
 
 Upon the road, 
 Which memory can brighten 
 With thoughts of thee, and lighten 
 
 Our heavy load. 
 
 So, though our hearts are grieving, 
 Not hopeless — but believing 
 
 That such as thou, 
 When life on earth is ended, 
 Hast unto God ascended — 
 
 To Him we bow. 
 
 In adoration lowly 
 
 Unto the Will Most Holy 
 
 Our hearts incline; 
 And, for our human weakness 
 Would crave, in faith and meekness — 
 
 An end like thine. 
 
 A SOUVENIR 
 
 I knew him first in life's fair morning hours, 
 His pathway bright with sunshine and sweet flowers 
 That drooped their dewy petals o'er his head, 
 And 'neath his feet, a glowing carpet spread. 
 
 While friends and fortune came at his behest, 
 And life's sweet wine of love he drank with zest, 
 He looked away across earth's sunny slopes, 
 With eager eyes, and high and happy hopes. 
 
 76 
 
But change came o'er the spirit of his dream, 
 And far less smoothly flowed the sparkling stream, 
 Not so serene and smiling was his face; 
 For life had lost a certain nameless grace. 
 
 The o'erhanging flowers, wet with shining dew, 
 Turned brown and withered when the north-wind 
 
 blew; 
 The hope that filled his heart with purest joy 
 Was dashed to earth, and broken like a toy. 
 
 His plans were thwarted, and his best desires 
 Were crushed beneath ambition's smouldering fires, 
 By difficulties oft, and many a doubt, 
 His progress stopped — his pathway hedged about. 
 
 Yet, high above these wrecks his nature rose. 
 He wept not for his own, but other's woes ; 
 And whatsoe'er his hand could find to do, 
 He did it heartily — with heaven in view. 
 
 But ere his noonday sun had reached its height, 
 By sudden cloud was hidden all its light — 
 The busy brain at rest, the pulses stilled, 
 The hopes, so high and happy, unfulfilled. 
 
 Like us — like all — his soul had found a dearth 
 Of what he longed for most upon the earth; 
 But, when, in likeness of the Christ who died, 
 He wakes above, he "shall be satisfied". 
 
 77 
 
IN MEMORY OF A. A. A. P. 
 
 As I look, dear friend, on your pictured face 
 
 And read life's record there, 
 In lines of beauty, and lines of grace, 
 
 Re-crossed by lines of care; 
 
 I think of the days of my early youth, 
 When you were my teacher kind, 
 
 Instilling sweet lessons of love and truth 
 Into my eager mind. 
 
 Sometimes a lesson, hard and long 
 My patience would sorely test; 
 
 But your words of cheer, like a martial song, 
 Would urge me to do my best. 
 
 I know that life's lessons, hard and long, 
 
 Were afterwards set for you ; 
 But you triumphed bravely over wrong, 
 
 With steadfast heart and true. 
 
 With many a struggle, many a tear, 
 By faith was the victory won; 
 
 And you left for loved ones, words of cheer, 
 When your earth-tasks all were done. 
 
 And so, as I look on your pictured face, 
 And think of your peaceful rest; 
 
 I can hear you say, with winning grace: 
 "Trust God ! and do your best." 
 
 78 
 
RESURRECTION THOUGHTS 
 
 Within the seed, dropped in the earth's dark mold, 
 Are life, and grace, and beauty — fold on fold; 
 Which, warmed by sunshine, wet with dew and 
 
 rain, 
 Shall soon spring forth and bloom, on hill, or plain. 
 
 What lovely flowers, what luscious fruits appear 
 From planted seeds in lowly earth-beds here! 
 And there's no field of ripened grain, but when 
 The fallen seeds take root, and grow again. 
 
 Thus, hidden for awhile from human sight, 
 Our loved ones rise in everlasting Light, 
 To grow more pure and sweet beyond the tomb, 
 Where mortal shall put on immortal bloom. 
 
 No eye hath seen, no heart can understand 
 The glorious beauties of that heavenly land; 
 Beyond the darkness, these shall all unfold, 
 And with enraptured vision, they behold. 
 
 Because our Saviour who hath died for men, 
 Arose from death, we too, shall live again; 
 We see not now beyond the river's brim, 
 But when he cometh, we shall be like him. 
 
 Oh ! wondrous splendors that sb^ll soon adorn 
 The coming of the resurrection morn! 
 Be ready O my soul, and watching when 
 Your Lord in clouds of glory comes again! 
 
 79 
 
A TINY BUD 
 
 Sweet bud that never oped its eyes 
 
 In this poor world of ours, 
 Upon the hills of Paradise 
 
 Blooms with perennial flowers. 
 
 God hath transplanted it above, 
 Where, sheltered by his care, 
 
 Forever in the light of love 
 It bloometh, pure and fair. 
 
 A FRAGMENT 
 
 God lays his hand upon our well beloved, 
 And we in anguish cry: Oh! take them not; 
 We need them so. The babe so innocent 
 And fair, whose prattling tongue and pattering feet 
 Make music in the house, whose clinging hands 
 Oft hold us back from sin — we fain would keep, 
 And fondly think that its sweet life would make 
 Our own more worthy. But our God sees not 
 As man doth see. He knows our frailty and 
 "Remembereth that we are dust". Therefore 
 In mercy doth he heavenward draw the child 
 That it, with beckoning hands, may lead us hence. 
 
 80 
 
A LAMB OF THE UPPER FOLD 
 
 Our precious little baby, 
 
 The upper fold within — 
 Can never have a sorrow, 
 
 And never know a sin. 
 
 Jesus, the tender Shepherd, 
 
 For our little one doth care: 
 "Thy will be done, O Father", 
 
 Shall be our constant prayer. 
 
 fflU^ ; • . ' 
 
 And with most earnest pleading, 
 
 We ask that we may be 
 In all our daily living, 
 
 Drawn close to her, and thee. 
 
 AN AGED PILGRIM 
 
 Our aged aunt had trod this earth for more 
 Than four-score years. She found it rough and full 
 Of thorns. But few stray flowers bloomed for her 
 Along "the straight and narrow way". Her path 
 Of duty had been hard. Her joys were few. 
 Her sorrows manifold. Yet with a faith 
 Unfaltering, she looked beyond this world 
 And saw the mansions our dear Lord prepares 
 For those who love and trust his blessed word. 
 And so she grew more cheerful as she neared 
 The shining portals of eternal peace. 
 
 A welcome guest she sat one day within 
 Our home, as oft before ; but never had 
 We seen her in more bright and happy mood. 
 She talked of times and customs old, of friends 
 She loved, and what they said, or sang. No songs 
 She thought, could be so sweet as those till she 
 8 1 
 
Should join the chorus of the skies with friends 
 Triumphant, who had gone before. 
 
 At last 
 We said: " Please sing for us, dear aunt, one of 
 Those sweet old hymns." With quavering voice she 
 sang: 
 "When I can read my title clear 
 
 To mansions in the skies, 
 I'll bid farewell to every fear 
 And wipe my weeping eyes." 
 Verse after verse, she sweetly crooned until 
 She seemed quite weary ; yet the closing verse 
 With radiant face, repeated o'er and o'er : 
 "There shall I bathe my weary soul 
 
 In seas of heavenly rest, 
 And not a wave of trouble roll 
 Across my peaceful breast." 
 
 A few brief days had passed. A heavenly guest 
 Called softly for her weary soul; and she 
 With joy responded. Soon, we stood around 
 Her grave. Some wept. But one who loved her 
 said: 
 Oh ! let us not be grieving 
 Around her grave to-day, 
 Because her spirit, leaving 
 
 Its tenement of clay, 
 Has found the heavenly mansions 
 Where she held "title clear", 
 And to the summons answered: 
 "Farewell to every fear". 
 
 Done with earth's strife and struggle, 
 
 Its weary round of toil, 
 Its bitter disappointments, 
 
 Its sorrow and turmoil; 
 82 
 
Her weary soul is bathing 
 In seas of heavenly rest, 
 
 No wave of trouble rolling 
 "Across her peaceful breast." 
 
 83 
 
UNBURDENED 
 
 So weary of heavy burdens — 
 
 I fain would be at rest 
 Under the flowers and grasses 
 
 On mother earth's sweet breast. 
 
 take thy weary one Father! 
 Let me quietly go to sleep, 
 
 And wake in the blessed morning 
 Where thy children never weep. 
 
 Then, out of the solemn silence, 
 
 This answer came to me: 
 "Child, cast on the Lord thy burdens, 
 
 My grace is sufficient for thee." 
 
 SUBMISSION 
 
 1 know not what is best for me, 
 But thou, my Lord, dost clearly see; 
 Thou knowest all, and thou wilt send 
 Whate'er is best, O gracious Friend. 
 
 I could not bear life's storm and stress, 
 Without thy hand to guide and bless; 
 Without thy love to watch and ward, 
 Thy presence to uphold me, Lord. 
 
 Teach me submission to thy will, 
 O let me in thy love be still; 
 Cause every murmur now to cease, 
 And keep my soul in perfect peace. 
 
 84 
 
THE ANGELS' MESSAGE 
 
 "Why seek ye the living among the dead?" 
 To the weeping women, the angels said; 
 
 "He is not here. He is risen. Go 
 Tell his disciples and Peter, so. 
 
 "The place where he lay, ye may come and see, 
 And remember his word in Galilee — 
 
 He should die by the hands of cruel men; 
 But on the third day, he would rise again." 
 
 This wondrous message of life they heard, 
 And then they recalled each gracious word 
 
 Of their Master, and said: "It is really true. 
 Let us haste and the angels' bidding, do." 
 
 Though their words seem only idle tale 
 
 To doubting ones; yet they avail 
 In bringing others to look and see 
 
 If these wonderful things could really be. 
 
 But unbelief, some would not cease 
 
 Till Jesus in their midst said: "Peace. 
 
 Over death and the grave no more repine — 
 All power in heaven and earth is mine. 
 
 "Go forth through the world and in my name, 
 The power of a risen Christ proclaim. 
 
 Blessed are ye, who your Lord receive; 
 Blest they who see not, and still believe". 
 
 O ye who sit by the grave to-day 
 
 In doubt and darkness — who weep and pray- 
 Lift up the heart, and the drooping head: 
 
 "Why seek ye the living among the dead?" 
 
 85 
 
VESPER THOUGHTS 
 
 I sat within a temple grand, and gazed 
 
 With curious eyes, on pictures of the saints 
 
 Of generations past; on image, shrine 
 
 And crucifix — each lit with tapers and 
 
 With flowers garlanded anew. These last, 
 
 The work of God, fresh from his hand, filled all 
 
 The place with beauty and with fragrance; but 
 
 Their simple purity made contrast strange 
 
 With such elaborate display of man's 
 
 Device. I sat and noted each and all; 
 
 But most, my eyes upon the portrait of 
 
 Our Savior rested, as he hung upon 
 
 The cross. His sad, sweet face with pity beamed 
 
 Upon the devotees who mutely bowed 
 
 Before his image here and crossed themselves. 
 
 'Twas but a fancy — for the pictured face 
 And form, though grandly beautiful, were still 
 Devoid of life — and this was not the Christ. 
 So in the midst of much display of what 
 To me seemed offerings vain ; I bowed with heart 
 Of love and gratitude to Him who said : 
 "God is a spirit, and he seeketh such 
 To worship him as shall in spirit and 
 In truth." 
 
 No matter where, in busy crowd, 
 In dreary solitude, in temples most 
 Magnificent, or poor and plain — in all 
 Or any, shall the heart which truly seeks 
 For God, find his Great Presence and be blest ! 
 
 86 
 
SWEET MEMORIES 
 
 O Memory, be sweet to me! 
 
 Bring back the dear old times; 
 Be kind, and so repeat to me 
 
 In soft and soothing rhymes, 
 The happy hours, the golden days, 
 
 The pleasant times I had ; 
 Leave out the rough and weary ways, 
 
 And leave out all the bad. 
 
 Bring back to me those childhood joys 
 
 Around our home fireside, 
 When happy-hearted girls and boys 
 
 (Their parents' joy and pride) 
 Rejoiced in innocence of youth, 
 
 And every heart was glad; 
 Bring back the hope, the love, the truth- 
 
 But leave out all the bad. 
 
 O Memory! I beg, be kind, 
 
 And bring from out thy store, 
 The love that brightens life behind, 
 
 And points to light before. 
 Let steady beams illume my way, 
 
 And make my pathway bright 
 Till I shall reach that perfect day 
 
 Where faith is lost in sight. 
 
IDEAL LIFE 
 
 If we would only lift our eyes 
 
 To see the beauty 'round us, 
 And with our inmost souls despise 
 
 All servile chains that bound us; 
 What sweet surprises we should see 
 
 With unveiled eyes beholding! 
 And how our hearts would ever be 
 
 With gratitude unfolding! 
 
 If we would cherish noble thought, 
 
 And seek the true ideal, 
 Joy would not be so dearly bought, 
 
 Our pleasures would be real; 
 For, living near to nature's heart, 
 
 We'd find her hidden treasures; 
 And in her life to have a part, 
 
 Would give us untold pleasures. 
 
 Days would fly past on golden wings, 
 
 Still each one growing brighter, 
 And earth be full of fairer things, 
 
 Because our hearts beat lighter. 
 The birds would carol sweeter strains, 
 
 The glad blue skies be bluer ; 
 In sunshine, or in gentle rains, 
 
 We'd find a life-renewer. 
 
 The flowers would glow in hues mare bright, 
 
 The trees would wave their greeting, 
 The brooks would murmur their delight — 
 
 The hills and vales repeating. 
 Companions these in all our days — 
 
 Through them to God above us 
 We'd look, and join their songs of praise, 
 
 Assured that he does love us. 
 88 
 
A GOOD SOLDIER 
 
 Soldier of Christ! be true; 
 
 Be brave and strong; 
 Your God has stationed you 
 
 Where you belong. 
 
 He knoweth best the place 
 
 That you can fill, 
 And he will give you grace 
 
 To do his will. 
 
 What though the task is hard, 
 
 And foes assail! 
 Your God will guide and guard, 
 
 You shall prevail. 
 
 CHRISTIAN DUTY 
 
 Do you know the wondrous power 
 
 Of Jesus' touch of love? 
 Do you feel an inward impulse 
 
 That draws your soul above? 
 Reach upward then ; but downward 
 
 Extend a helping hand, 
 Lest those who grovel lower 
 
 May perish on the strand. 
 
 For all around you lying 
 
 In woe, and shame, and sin, — 
 Even grim death defying, 
 
 Are those whom you may win. 
 Perhaps a soul is longing 
 
 For the word which you can say, 
 The Lord will help you speak it 
 
 "In season" — if you pray. 
 
 89 
 
"Words that are fitly spoken 
 
 Like apples are of gold 
 In pictures fair of silver" — 
 
 It hath been said of old. 
 Let not the days be passing 
 
 Unless your voice is heard 
 In wise and winning fervor 
 
 To speak some warning word. 
 
 "Sick, strangers, and in prison" 
 
 Are hastening to the grave; 
 'Twas "sinners not the righteous", 
 
 Whom Jesus came to save. 
 Then help the weak and erring, 
 
 And your welcome home shall be : 
 "Come, blessed of my Father, — 
 
 Ye did it unto me." 
 
 A SOUL WON 
 
 It was only the clasp of a stranger's hand, 
 But it thrilled me through and through; 
 
 For plainer than words — I could understand — 
 It told of sympathy true. 
 
 I was young and thoughtless, nor cared to know 
 
 That my heart was full of sin, 
 Till the stranger's eyes, with their earnest glow, 
 
 Showed me wretchedness within. 
 
 I knew that a feeling of wild unrest 
 Was surging through heart and brain ; 
 
 I had sought for joy, but had lost the best — 
 I knew that I sought in vain. 
 
 90 
 
For even in moments of wildest mirth, 
 
 Elated with human pride, 
 I knew that with fleeting things of earth, 
 
 I could never be satisfied. 
 
 As the stranger looked down in the depths of mj 
 soul, 
 She saw that 'twas sick of sin ; 
 And she said: "Christ Jesus would make you 
 whole — 
 If you only would let him in. 
 
 "He knocks at the door of your weary heart, 
 
 And offers you peace and rest ; 
 Oh! let him in. He will not depart 
 
 If you bid him your welcome guest." 
 
 I was deeply moved. Was Christ so nigh? 
 
 Did he this message send ? • 
 
 And I earnestly prayed : O pass not by, 
 
 But be my Savior — friend. 
 
 Soon as I chose "the better part" 
 
 I saw with clearer sight; 
 A thankful joy o'erflowed my heart — 
 
 And love, and life and light! 
 
 Oh! thanks to God, whose grace did send 
 
 His messenger to me; 
 And thanks to her, my stranger — friend, 
 
 Who helped the blind to see. 
 
 For her warm hand-clasp, her smile so kind, 
 
 And her tender words sufficed 
 To help me the Way of Life to find, 
 ■ And won my soul for Christ. 
 
 91 
 
INNOCENCE BLOSSOMS 
 
 Wee blossoms by the wayside, 
 
 Oh! smile into my face 
 Until your thrilling sweetness 
 
 Shall give me heart of grace. 
 
 I'm weary with my journey, 
 
 I need your sunny smiles 
 To cheer me while I travel 
 
 Over these lonely miles. 
 
 Then, taught by yon sweet blossoms, 
 
 I'll do my humble part 
 To put a thought of gladness 
 
 Into some other heart. 
 
 PURSUING ONWARD 
 
 I still pursue the path I trod — 
 
 An eager and aspiring youth 
 With upward longing after God, 
 
 And earnest seeking for the Truth. 
 
 Ah ! that was long before I knew 
 
 How much from me the years would take, 
 How friends could ever prove untrue, 
 
 How hearts could bear, and still not break. 
 
 The past, the future — each a book 
 I may not pause and ponder o'er; 
 
 Into whose depths I dare not look 
 For joys to come, or gone before. 
 
 All that I would, I cannot know, 
 
 The "times and seasons" are God's own ; 
 
 'Tis mine to trust, and onward go — 
 Onward, and he will make it known. 
 92 
 
In patient toil, the present hour 
 
 Demands the best of mind and heart; 
 
 No sighs, no tears, by faith's calm power, 
 I shall most bravely bear my part. 
 
 And climbing still the upward way 
 
 That I pursued in days of youth; 
 I'll reach the summit, some sweet day, 
 
 And rest upon the Mount of Truth. 
 
 PERPETUAL YOUTH 
 
 When we drink from the pure, perpetual flow 
 Where the Fountain of Youth has sprung; 
 
 We may count the years, as they come and go, 
 And be just so many years young. 
 
 Though the hand of Time on our brows has traced 
 
 Full many a careful line, 
 And the cheeks so round, by smiles o'erchased 
 
 In days of "Auld Lang Syne", 
 
 Have lost somewhat of the full, fair hue 
 That they wore in the years gone by; 
 
 And paler, perhaps, is the deep, dark blue 
 Of the bright and sparkling eye; 
 
 The hair once brown — "Just touched with gold" 
 
 May now be a silver gray; 
 The hand less firm, the step less bold, 
 
 The speech and the laugh less gay; 
 
 But these are the signs of immortal Youth 
 
 Which come from year to year, 
 As our journey toward Eternal Truth 
 
 Grows nearer, and more near. 
 
 93 
 
Soon, our unwearied feet shall run — 
 
 Like eagles we shall soar 
 To reach our goal beyond the sun, 
 
 And be young forevermore. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SONG 
 
 Oh! far and wide 
 
 At Christmas-tide, 
 The merry bells ring out; 
 From near and far, 
 The Christmas star 
 Is hailed with song and shout! 
 
 For long ago 
 
 In manger low, 
 A precious baby lay; 
 
 Who came to draw 
 
 By "love's sweet law", 
 All hearts the upward way. 
 
 To infant King, 
 
 The wise men bring 
 Their spices and their gold; 
 
 To him they bow, 
 
 And humbly vow 
 No homage to withhold. 
 
 "Peace upon earth !" 
 The Saviour's birth 
 
 The herald angels sing; 
 And then again: 
 "Good-will to men 
 
 From our Eternal King!" 
 
 94 
 
O God on high ! 
 
 Let earth and sky 
 Now join the angels' song 
 
 And praises bring 
 
 Our Saviour-King 
 In chorus loud and long! 
 
 "Glory to God! 
 
 Glory to God !" 
 The angels sing on high; 
 
 "Peace upon earth! 
 
 Peace upon earth !" 
 Let every heart reply. 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY 
 
 Most blessed day of all the year 
 Is Christmas Day, so full of cheer; 
 A day when we our loved ones greet, — 
 Though miles apart, this day we meet. 
 
 What visions of the past appear 
 Of days long gone, to memory dear ! 
 When we, so happy in our play, 
 Thought this the best of any day. 
 
 Such merry-hearted girls and boys 
 Exulted over books and toys; 
 For gift of book, or doll, or toy 
 Could fill each little heart with joy. 
 
 We cared not much about the Friend 
 Who all these gracious gifts did send; 
 But we have learned to love him well, 
 And now, he in our hearts doth dwell. 
 
 95 
 
And so, the best of all the year 
 Is Christmas Day, so full of cheer; 
 In humble praise our hearts we lift 
 Because of God's most wondrous Gift. 
 
 WAIT 
 
 In the silence of the night-time 
 When the house is dark and still 
 
 Cometh to my heart a poem — 
 Cometh of its own sweet will. 
 
 Gladdens me with light that glimmers, 
 Glimmers faintly in my dream, 
 
 While outside the moonlight shimmers 
 Over hill, and vale, and stream. 
 
 Swift I rise and seize my pencil — 
 Strive to fix the thoughts so great ; 
 
 But they hide in gloom and mock me, 
 Mock me with the one word: "Wait" 
 
 Once again I seek my pillow, 
 But with tossings to and fro — 
 
 Brain and body each are troubled 
 With the thoughts that come and go. 
 
 In the early dawn of morning, 
 
 Ere the day's work is begun ; 
 Throbs my heart with aspirations — 
 
 Still ascending with the sun. 
 
 Will the steady light of noon-day 
 
 Bring that poem back to me ? 
 Shall I, by the sun's clear shining, 
 
 All its hidden beauty see? 
 
 96 
 
Cometh not! though noon-time fadeth 
 
 Into even-tide serene, 
 And my soul doth vainly question 
 
 What my pillow-guest could mean 
 
 By the whisper and the glimmer — 
 Light and sweetness to my heart, 
 
 Which, before my pen can trace them, 
 Hide in shadows, and depart. 
 
 "Wait!" the word was softly whispered- 
 'Twas the only one I caught 
 
 Of the many in the poem, 
 
 Which I since have vainly sought. 
 
 Wait till when ? until in heaven 
 
 Mists from off these eyes shall fall? 
 
 And by clearer light 'tis given 
 Me to understand it all? 
 
 All the flying guests that vex me 
 With a word, and swiftly go — 
 
 All the questions that perplex me 
 With their Sittings, to and fro ? 
 
 Oh! the sweet anticipation 
 
 Of the things that are to be 
 In the bright and blessed future, 
 
 When our eyes shall clearly see! 
 
 97 
 
THE COMING YEAR 
 
 'Tis morning's earliest hour. The waning moon 
 
 Her shadow-pictures gently casts upon 
 
 The glistening snow, and myriads of stars 
 
 Look brightly down upon the white-robed earth. 
 
 The music of glad bells makes vocal all 
 
 The waiting world. Oh! listen, when they cease 
 
 To ring, and we shall hear angelic hosts 
 
 Pass by! In gentle undulations come 
 
 And go, their voices, sweet, and soft, and low — 
 
 A promise and a prophecy of what 
 
 The coming year may be. 
 
 Its history 
 Must now begin upon the pages of 
 A fair, unwritten book. Ah! what shall be 
 The end? Upon the wrecks of former hopes, 
 And loves, and aspirations, shall we sink 
 Into despair? Or shall we build upon 
 The Rock, and rise into the clear, pure light 
 And freedom of the Truth? 
 
 This is a time 
 For faith, and hope, and love to make their best 
 Endeavors. Grieve not overmuch around 
 The graves of years gone by; but let us lift 
 Our eyes and see the glory that is yet 
 To be — when better, holier visions still 
 Our hearts with new-born joy shall fill — and we, 
 In glad response, shall join the angels' song. 
 Then, beckoning hands shall lead us on the way — 
 The shining, upward way — and strew our path 
 With flowers more fair than we have known in all 
 The past. 
 
 The bright new year has come! A gay 
 Young throng of happy, hopeful hours awaits 
 Us, if we fix our calm, persistent eyes 
 Upon the sweet and sunny side of life. 
 
 98 
 
Behold the brightness! See the eastern sky 
 All flushed with gorgeous beauty, ere the sun 
 In silent majesty comes forth to greet 
 The youngest year! 
 
 His radiance is still 
 Undimmed, though he has smiled on all the years 
 In ages past, and looked in pity down 
 Upon the follies and the sins of earth. 
 Still kindly does he smile, and bring to each 
 New year a blessed boon from Heaven's great store. 
 He warms the earth, and guides the seasons in 
 Their course. His genial glow soon melts the ice 
 And snow, and gratefully the waiting earth 
 Responds. 
 
 At his behest, the gentle Spring 
 Appears, all laden with fresh buds and bloom — 
 The bright, sweet emblems of the life to be. 
 As gay, as fanciful as in the years 
 Gone by, she softly lays her offerings 
 Upon the shrine of youth then trips away, 
 Mayhap, to greet new years in other worlds. 
 
 Warm-hearted Summer next brings on her gifts 
 Of long, bright days, with flowers of brilliant hues, 
 And luscious fruits, and ripening grains and all 
 The wonders wrought by ardent heat. 
 
 Next comes 
 Fair Autumn, gorgeously arrayed, and on 
 Her face a glowing smile. She freely pours 
 Her bounties forth, till earth resounds w T ith shouts 
 Of harvest home, and glad thanksgiving songs 
 Are sung by re-united friends. 
 
 Full soon 
 King Winter comes, and spreads his royal robes 
 Over the bare, bleak fields, and sprinkles soft 
 
 99 
 
White down upon the naked branches of 
 The trees, and over all the sleeping earth, 
 Which waits in silence for another touch 
 Of gentle Spring. 
 
 Thus shall the seasons come 
 And go. Seed-time and harvest shall not fail, 
 And God will send his sunshine and his rain 
 Upon the unjust and the just. His love 
 Is over all. His mercy shall endure 
 Forever. Multitudes will lift to him 
 Their hearts of praise for blessings undeserved, 
 For help in time of need, and hope beyond. 
 But millions, too, as in the past, will spurn 
 His gracious calls, and scorn his boundless love. 
 
 Yet Time speeds on ! The morning stars as at 
 Creation's dawn, still sing together, and 
 The harmony of nature still rolls on — 
 Although some souls are sadly out of tune. 
 May ours e'er be in harmony with God 
 And his great plan! Then, when "the angel sets 
 His right foot on the sea, his left foot on 
 The land, and swears by Him who made all things 
 That time shall be no longer", we shall join 
 The hallelujah chorus with the throng 
 Who "more than conquerors" are through their 
 Great King! 
 
 IOO 
 
NOV 8 1911 
 
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