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POEMS 
 
 of 
 
 Life in the Country 
 
 and 
 
 By the Sea 
 
 by 
 
 BENT. F. BROWN 
 
 Xinth Edition. Revised and Richlv Illustrated 
 
 Copyright. February, 1920, by Benj. F. Brown 
 
 PROVIDENCE, R. I. 
 
 1920 
 
©CI.A5S6275 
 
 MAR 29 1920 
 
^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 J- 
 
 INDEX 
 
 A Bunch of Violets 48-50 
 
 After Huckleberries (Illustrated) 32-33 
 
 After the Shower (Illustrated) 50-51 
 
 Along the River Batiks (Illustrated) 90-91 
 
 Always Wear a Smile (Illustrated ) 62-63 
 
 A Light from Paradise 78 
 
 Baby Rob (Illustrated) 42-43 
 
 Beneath the Old Elm Tree (Illustrated) 46-47 
 
 Blue Fringed Gentian i Illustrated) 56-57 
 
 Daisies (Illustrated) 54-55 
 
 Falling Leaves 83 
 
 Gideon Smith, the loincr 28 
 
 Going a Fishing (Illustrated) 26-27 
 
 Goldenrod (Illustrated) 58-59 
 
 Haying, Some Memory Talks 71 
 
 Home for Thanksgiving 88 
 
 In Memory's Chamber ( Illustrated) 34-35 
 
 In the Trundle-bed (Illustrated) 92-93 
 
 In the Forest ( Illustrated ) 72-7^ 
 
 In the High-Back Sleigh f I II u si rated) 60-61 
 
 Mary's Lamb Croquette 13 
 
 Nature's Play (Illustrated ) 48-49 
 
 October Days 58 
 
 On the Old Farm ( Illuslrated ) 14-16 
 
 One Summer Night ( Illustrated i 74-75 
 
 Peace 54 
 
 Peep, Peep, Peep (Illustrated ' 52 
 
 "Pokin' Round" 55 
 
 Popping the Question 86 
 
 Ringing of the Chimes (Illustrated) 77-78 
 
 Roses 8 
 
 School Days in the Country 66 
 
 3 
 
INDEX 
 
 Springtime (Illustrated) 82 
 
 The Angels' Sweetest Song 76 
 
 That Morning Ride 83 
 
 The Cottager (Illustrated) 80-81 
 
 The Country Boy (Illustrated) 20-22 
 
 The Curtain of Night (Illustrated) 8 
 
 The Hills of Old New England (Illustrated) ... .36-37 
 
 The Husking Party 89 
 
 The Rainy Day in July 18-19 
 
 There's Light Ahead (Illustrated) 41 
 
 Those Cowhide Boots 29 
 
 The Old Farm House 38 
 
 The Old Ring Game 85 
 
 The Old Woolen Jacket 70 
 
 The School Exhibition 12 
 
 The Schoolhouse on the Hill f Illustrated) 84-83 
 
 The Sea (Illustrated) 64-65 
 
 The Sea Mystery (Illustrated) 68-69 
 
 The Singing School 40 
 
 The Summer Morn 7 
 
 The Summer Night 90 
 
 The Sunset (Illustrated) 7 
 
 The Swell, Mollie and the Lilies (Illustrated) 44-45 
 
 The Two Old Men 42 
 
 The Vacation Rest (Illustrated) 24-25 
 
 The Winter Day (Illustrated) 10 
 
 Wild Strawberries (Illustrated) 22-23 
 
 Winter (Illustrated) 30-31 
 
 Yellow Cowslips (Illustrated) 52 
 
 Send stamps or money-order to Benj. F. Brown, 
 9 Kepler St., Providence, R. L, for a copy of this book, 
 which will be mailed, postpaid. Prices as follows : 
 
 In Sunburst Cover $0.60 
 
 Illustrated cloth cover, gilt title 1.00 
 
 Soft flexible leather cover, gilt stamp 1.50 
 
 4 
 
INTRCJDUCTORY 
 
 'T^lllS little volume of verses has many lines 
 ^ v\hich, while I read, make me, in imagi- 
 nation, actually present among the scenes and 
 with the associations there portrayed — in fact, 
 these verses are horn of my life in the country 
 among the hills and valleys of New England, 
 born of my schooldays in the "schoolhouse on 
 the hill," of the days on the "old farm," of 
 the "school exhibitions," "singing schools," and 
 many other happ\' times in childhoorl, ymitli, 
 and later years. 
 
 I hope these verses may touch the feelings 
 of many who read them, and that, like the 
 treasures in our memories, "while we sit by 
 the fireside and ponder them o'er," peace may 
 "comfort our hearts like a sweet benediction." 
 
 On the "Old Farm" was the home of my 
 boyhood, and many years ago the home of 
 rieneral Israel Putnam, famous in the record- 
 of the War of the Revolution. I cordially 
 welcome the readers of this little book. 
 B. F. BROWN. 
 
'The days farewell to the summer night." Photo by Miss Oostdyk 
 In Michigan 
 
POEMS 
 
 From Life's Experience 
 
 THE SUMMER MORN 
 
 A blush of pink melting in the blue 
 
 With a lingering star just peeping through, 
 
 A glow of light where the robin sings, 
 
 The breath of the roses' blossomings. 
 
 The silvery webs on the meadow grass, 
 
 With tiny dewdrops overcast. 
 
 I'he soft air stirred by the waking breeze 
 
 To a low sweet song through the leafy trees, 
 
 A thrill of joy in our souls newborn, — 
 
 All tell of ..the beautiful summer morn. 
 
 — From "New England Magazine," by B. F. Brown. 
 
 THE SUNSET 
 
 A royal gem was the rosy west, 
 Of heaven's works the loveliest, 
 Draped with a sheen of opal light, 
 The day's farewell to the summer night. 
 
 We watched while the Artist changed its tone, 
 Till the brightest tints had softer grown, 
 And as we gazed on the picture fair. 
 We felt the hand of the Master there. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT 
 
 Over the shadowy trees it falls, 
 Over the ivy-mantled walls, 
 Over each stone and silent grave, 
 Over the church from tower to nave, 
 Over the city that tries in vain 
 To win its light the day again. 
 
 Over the sea till each darkening roll 
 Grown darker and black like a ruined soul, 
 Over us all with insistent creep 
 Falls the curtain of night 
 Till the world is asleep. 
 
 ROSES 
 
 Down in the garden I wandered one morn, 
 
 Looking for roses sweet ; 
 Roses in blossom with night dews thereon, 
 
 Robed in a beauty complete. 
 Searching, I found the fairest ones there. 
 
 Born while the stars shone above ; 
 Breathing their fragrance, their perfume rare. 
 
 Sweet as a message of love. 
 
 Only the best of the roses I took. 
 
 Roses I knew she would prize ; 
 Payment in full would be her kind look, . 
 
 Just a look from the dearest blue eyes. 
 I gave her the roses, said never a word. 
 
 But watched the light shine in her eyes, 
 And then, in return, no language was heard, 
 
 FTer gift was the sweetest surprise. 
 
'"Over the shadowy trees it falls.'" 
 
 Photo by Dailies & Nichols. Part College Campus, 
 
 Ann Arbor. Mich. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE WINTER DAY 
 
 Bright is the dawn of the winter morn 
 
 And icy the winds that blow 
 Through the valleys and over the hills, 
 
 Curling the drifts of snow. 
 
 The storm is over, the stars grow dim, 
 
 The moon sinks in the west, 
 A rosy glow on the hills qf snow, 
 
 A morning with beauty blest. 
 
 In the forest nook, by the ice-bound brook, 
 The pine trees wear a shroud. 
 
 And over their green its folds are seen 
 White as a summer cloud. 
 
 Now the sleigh bells ring, and the horses fling 
 Their hoofs on the polished road, 
 
 And the happy throng, as they glide along, 
 Is life with joy o'erflowed. 
 
 There's a charming play of the winter day 
 On the heart, with a touch that thrills, 
 
 And the cords of life grow strong for strife 
 And the soul with courage fills. 
 
 10 
 
The Winter Day. In Connecticut 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE SCHOOL EXHIBITION 
 
 The skool exhibition, why a'nt you a-goin'? 
 They say that our skolars will make a big showin*; 
 The hull skool cummitty will be there ter-night. 
 And the children will bring lots of candles to light. 
 
 Down in the Smith Valley they had one last night, 
 And them as has seen, sed 'twan't much of a sight; 
 And in the Jones deestrick they didn't do well, 
 But we'll show 'em how, make 'em think for a spell. 
 
 Jim's a-practicin' now, every evening this week. 
 He's up in the atick, you kin hear his boots squeak; 
 He's goin' ter speak of an Injun so brave 
 That he'd swim till he drowned, 'fore he'd be a darn 
 slave. 
 
 You know, our Salomie'll stand up and recite, 
 She'll look terribul nice, goin' ter dress all in white. 
 Jed Stebbins, he's borrowed a yaller box sleigh, 
 Throw'd out all ther seats, put in sum bog hay. 
 
 An' reckins he'll carry ez many's a duzen. 
 By usin' two bosses, got one from his cuzin. 
 Cy, he'll do the drivin' and Jed pack 'em in. 
 They're sure ter git there 'fore the show will begin. 
 
 Don't sit there a-smokin', just finish yer .chores, 
 Put on yer black trowses. them others is tore; 
 Be sure and start arly, take Jim and Salome, 
 After washin' the dishes, I'll ride down with Jerome. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 MARY'S LAMB CROQUETTE 
 
 Listen while I tell the story, 
 Tell the sad and mournful story 
 Of the auto swiftly speeding, 
 Every obstacle unheeding, 
 Chauffeur, wild in his endeavor, 
 Records of high speed to sever, 
 Gave his horn an endless tooting. 
 By all other autos shooting. 
 Did not see some sheep come flocking, 
 And the outcome it was shocking. 
 
 Mary from a distance spying. 
 Saw her lamb go upyard flying, 
 Torn, dismembered, badly mangled. 
 Soon from trolley wire it dangled. 
 Bleating with a bleat incessant 
 Till in death it was quiescent. 
 Mary's heart was filled with sorrow. 
 Nevermore, todaj-, tomorrow 
 Would it follow her to school, 
 Would it break the teacher's rule. 
 
 On this question Mary pondered, 
 Tn her inmost soul she pondered, 
 Should she give up auto riding? 
 This the answer then deciding, 
 Nevermore should auto take her, 
 Chalmers, Ford or Studebaker, 
 Or in any kind whatever 
 Would she ride again, no, never ; 
 For an auto killed her pet, 
 Made of it a lamb croquette. 
 
 13 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 ON THE OLD FARM 
 
 Far away on the dear old farm 
 Is a home with a lasting charm. 
 
 Old and gray ; 
 Its roof with moss is covered 
 Where the waving branches hovered 
 
 Many a day. 
 
 How often has the dawning 
 Of a beautiful June morning. 
 
 Long ago, 
 At my window blushed while telling 
 Of the roses sweetly smelling, 
 
 Just below. 
 
 The beauty, like a blessing, 
 Of Nature, sweet, caressing, 
 
 Filled the air; 
 The woods and fields were glorious, 
 And summer reigned victorious 
 
 Everywhere. 
 
 In meadows sweet with haying 
 We, happy children playing, 
 
 Wandered free ; 
 The birds sang gaily o'er us 
 While we would join the chorus, 
 
 Full of glee. 
 
 The round-eyed daisies, spying 
 The blue where clouds were flying, 
 
 Seemed to say: 
 "Though sweet at times life's story. 
 Up yonder lies its glory, 
 
 Far away." 
 
 M 
 
■ - -jp X-": 
 
 :^>'?t.-^^-' 
 
 
 ^*-»^ ^^S: 
 
 'The round-eyed daisies, spying." Photo by Phil M. Riley 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 Beside the brooklet flowing 
 We found fair gentians growing, 
 
 Heavenly blue; 
 And later, nuts delicious 
 Encased in burrs malicious. 
 
 Two by two. 
 
 Of work we made a pleasure 
 In filling many a measure, 
 
 Husking corn; 
 Plump turkeys, 'round us feeding, 
 Thanksgiving all unheeding, 
 
 Fatal morn. 
 
 By fireside's ruddy -glow, 
 Outside, the drifting snow, — 
 
 We would meet; 
 With apples, ripe and red. 
 And nuts on table spread. 
 
 Such a treat. 
 
 And as the flames leaped higher 
 We, gazing in the tire, 
 
 Seemed to see 
 Old Santa Claus, gifts bringing. 
 While Christmas bells were ringing 
 
 Merrily. 
 
 We had no thought of sorrow, 
 'Twas joy today, tomorrow. 
 
 Then, — always. 
 Ah, me, as years grow older, 
 The world seems hard and colder, 
 
 Shorn of rays. 
 
 But far beyond its toiling. 
 Beyond its sad turmoiling, 
 
 Shines the light 
 Of Heaven, a joy forever, 
 Where the bright day shall never 
 
 End in night. 
 
 i6 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN JULY 
 
 In the old red barn on a rainy day, 
 
 In the old red barn where the new-mown hay 
 
 Is piled up high to the rafters near, 
 
 So near that the swallows shake with fear, 
 
 You will hnd the boys in haying time; 
 
 Up the ladder they love to climb, 
 
 To tumble and roll in the fragrant hay. 
 
 For this is surely a holiday. 
 
 Softly the patter of rain o'erhead 
 
 Like music tempts them to make their bed. 
 
 To lie and sleep 'mid the odors sweet 
 
 While the swallows twitter a tete-a-tete ; 
 
 And the tingle on the shingles 
 
 Of the rain-drops falling fast. 
 
 Tells to them a pleasant story. 
 
 That all day the rain will last. 
 
 They have worked so hard in the long hot days, 
 
 So hard in the field where the sun's hot rays 
 
 Have tired them out, that they love to keep 
 
 Up in the hay-mow fast asleep ; 
 
 And this rainy day in hot July 
 
 To the farmer boys, like a berry pie 
 
 That mother made, is a welcome treat 
 
 And the rest they gain is a rest complete. 
 
 18 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE COUNTRY BOY 
 
 On a tick filled with straw, sleeping soundly he lay, 
 A sleep that was perfect, for labor, part pay ; 
 No youth in the city could ever enjoy 
 The pleas.ire of rest as much as that boy. 
 
 The calls of the morning awaken the lad, 
 Shirt, pants, one suspender, enough, he's full clad; 
 Not a minute is wasted, for all of the cows 
 Must be milked before sunrise and turned out to 
 browse. 
 
 No short hours of labor has this country boy. 
 He knows that no farmer could that way enjoy; 
 For when winter arrived the purse would be lean 
 And a struggle till springtime the only path seen. 
 
 After breakfast 'tis pleasant, in garden and field 
 To work with a will for a good harvest yield, 
 There's planting and hoeing and haying-time, too, 
 And two holidays, just jewels for you. 
 
 'Twas no hardship to work, how often T think 
 Of the days, hoeing corn, how the proud bobolink 
 Just sings till his throat seems bursting with glee 
 And all of his song is intended for me. 
 
 O, don't you remember the day at the fair,. 
 Every one whom you knew was sure to be there. 
 And bashful and awkward, your feelings awhirl, 
 You could look, more than talk, when you met tha^ 
 dear girl. 
 
 20 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 In winter the parties, the sleighing, the school, 
 The games played at noontime, be fair was the rule; 
 The good-night at the ending, the slide down the hill. 
 And pleasures, full many, the winter would fill. 
 
 O, boys in the cities, who think that you live 
 And have better times than the country can give ; 
 Know this to be true, that the bright country lad 
 Has pleasures far more than you ever have had. 
 
 Fast life in the city, like brass covered with gold, 
 Becomes artificial and spoils when it's old; 
 But life in the country, lived true to the end. 
 Has all nature's charms that life to befriend. 
 
 WILD STRAWBERRIES 
 
 There were plenty of them in the "sidehill" lot. 
 And how we would search for the thickest spot ; 
 In June was the time for the largest yield, 
 But 'twas hoeing time in the big cornfield. 
 Just so many rows we must hoe in a day 
 Before we could leave and scamper away ; 
 And so we would start in the early morn 
 To hoe out the weeds in that field of corn. 
 
 By working hard, a short rest at noon, 
 We would finish by middle of afternoon, 
 And then with a will, no time to waste. 
 We would rush to that place for a strawberry taste. 
 When our pails were full we would pick and eat, 
 In vain to resist, they were luscious and sweet; 
 For supper that night, with sugar and cream 
 And new bread and butter a feast it would seem ; 
 
 / 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 We would empty our saucers and ask for more, 
 Strawberries, strawberries, berries galore. 
 Then the cows must be milked, pigs and chickens fed 
 And the chores all done, we were ready for bed. 
 Picking wild strawberries, those days in June 
 When Nature seems singing in perfect tune, 
 Then hurrying home ere the sun has set 
 Is a picture fair in my memory yet. 
 
 In the sidehill lot. 
 
 Photo by Bcckwith. 
 
 In Michigan. 
 
 23 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE VACATION REST 
 
 Here in the country a few short weeks. 
 Here where Nature its language speaks, 
 Speaks with a voice that is sweet and low, 
 Speaks with its beauties' overflow. 
 Over me gaily the white clouds sail, 
 Over each hill and fertile vale, 
 Songs of the birds and low of the kine, 
 Songs never written and all are mine. 
 Gone are the worries, toil, and strife. 
 Gone are the burdens of city life; 
 Life while I linger is passing sweet. 
 Life full of joy that is joy complete. 
 
 The lights and shadows o'er waving grass 
 
 Like fairies dance when the cloudlets pass; 
 
 In the valley of peace the river glides. 
 
 Seeking afar for the ocean tides. 
 
 Grassy the banks, and the odors sweet 
 
 Of the lilies' bloom near the birds' retreat. 
 
 Go to the country a few short weeks. 
 
 Go where Nature its language speaks. 
 
 Go, yes go. though you go alone. 
 
 For, your strength increased, your cares o'srthrown. 
 
 The storms of life will try in vain 
 
 To wreck your bark when home again. 
 
"Gone are the 
 
 burdens of city life.' 
 In Michigan 
 
 Photo by Beckwith 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 GOING A FISHING 
 
 'Twas a day I shall always remember, 
 A most beautiful day in September, 
 Not a cloud in the sky 
 And our spirits were high; 
 Life, with us, was far from an ember. 
 
 All the summer we boys had been wishing 
 For the time when we could go fishing, 
 So we cut some birch poles. 
 Dug the worms from mud holes. 
 While mother our luncheon was dishing. 
 
 Then we harnessed old black and the gray, 
 Hitched them fast to an ancient coupe. 
 Put in bait, hook and line. 
 Stuck the poles out behind, 
 And our rollicking crew sped away. 
 
 By upland and valley and meadow, 
 'Neath cloudland and sunlight and shadow, 
 Down the white sandy road 
 Where the goldeiirod glowed 
 Near the red of the sumac, in yellow. 
 
 Soon the pond, a fair picture in blue. 
 
 And some flat-bottomed boats came in view ; 
 
 So we slackened our speed, 
 
 Tied the horses for feed. 
 And bid summer's labor adieu. 
 
 O that day, it was surely a winner. 
 For we caught lots of fishes for dinner. 
 
 And with appetites big. 
 
 Drove home in our rig, 
 Eat them all, or else, I'm a sinner. 
 
 26 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 GIDKDX SMnil, 'IIII<: JOTXKR 
 
 "Carjjcntcr & Jf^incr." that was his sign, 
 lint he'd join evcrytliing that cntercfl his ininrl ; 
 The first baby shrjw in the old 'J'own Hall 
 He joined and jr^ined in the babs' squall. 
 
 Later lie joijicrl in the primary class. 
 Joined the teacher in kissing a beautiful lass, 
 Joined in the singing, then joined in the i^rayer, 
 And in every quarrel that happened there. 
 
 Still later, when larger and able to play. 
 Joined all the ball clubs that came in his way; 
 lie joined in licking the umpire, too. 
 Whenever the chap wouldn't jr^in in his view. 
 
 O, that fiideon Smith, he jfjined the church 
 Anrl societies, all he could linrl by search, 
 The Masons, the IClks. the Odd Fellows, too. 
 Why, he joined them all anrl longed for new. 
 
 lie joined with Salr^mie in wedlock Ijands, 
 
 Then joined with the preacher in hohling her hands 
 
 lie ioined in living with her the life 
 
 I liat made them happy, as man and wife. 
 
 He joined the crowd that went to his grave, 
 I'ut tlurre, left alone, just his recorrl to save. 
 He concluded to leave and join Ciideon's band 
 And in singing the songs in the heavenly land. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THOSE COWHIDE BOOTS 
 
 How well I remember in days of old 
 Those cowhide boots in the village sold, 
 How every boy must have a pair 
 in winter days for him to wear; 
 Then with woolen stockings his mother knit, 
 And bright new boots his feet to fit, 
 He would feel as proud as any king, 
 When towards the school he was hurrying. 
 
 And when the snows of winter came, 
 
 If wet his feet, he was to blame, 
 
 For beeswax, tallow and neatsfoot oil. 
 
 All melted hot, was the kind of spoil 
 
 He must rub on his boots, for his father said, 
 
 "Boy's grease your boots 'fore you go to bed, 
 
 Then put them behind the stove to dry. 
 
 And do it now, not by and by." 
 
 At morning, ere the rise of sun, 
 The forenoon chores must all be done. 
 Then buckwheat cakes and maple syrup 
 Unending appetite would stir up ; 
 Next, in deep snow 'twa? pure delight 
 To wear those boots with pants tied tight 
 Around the legs for barricade, 
 A wise protection mother made. 
 
 From tramping in the snow till night. 
 Those boots would shrink till awful tight, 
 The bootjack seemed the only way 
 To pull them off — they meant to stay. 
 Sometimes your brother, very kind, 
 While you with one foot pushed behind, 
 Between his legs would take the other 
 And pull till ended was your bother. 
 
 29 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 WINTER 
 
 How the wind whistles and rattles the blinds 
 While the rain and sleet strike the window panes, 
 
 And the Storm-King marshals his hosts and finds 
 Every place where a hole or crevice remains. 
 
 The snow sifts in when the gusts fly past, 
 The drifts whirl over the garden wall, 
 
 The storms of winter are here at last 
 Draping the sky with a leaden pall. 
 
 The back-log lies in the wide fireplace, 
 And the burning embers search its heart. 
 
 While the glowing fire creeps on apace. 
 Tearing its sinews of oak apart. 
 
 Let the storm go on, we defy the cold. 
 
 We are cosy and warm in the lamp-lit room, 
 
 While the apples roast in the ashes old 
 
 And the walnuts crack to meet their doom 
 
 We gather around the fireside now 
 And talk of the days in the long ago. 
 
 Of the glorious times we had and how 
 We would race our steeds over ice and snow. 
 
 Let the winter come, there are joys it brings 
 To the boys and girls, to the young and old: 
 
 Every snow-clad hill in the moonlight sings 
 
 Of the "mansions fair and the streets of gold." 
 
 30 
 
'How ihe wind whistles and rattles the blm.l^ 
 Photo by W. Mizunuma. In Oregon 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 AFTER HUCKLEBERRIES 
 
 Did you ever go for berries in the pasture lot, 
 
 Go barefoot, where thistles prick, to find the thickest 
 
 spot? 
 Six-quart pails you used to till, nothing else would do, 
 Mother wanted them for pies, and 'twas up to you. 
 
 In those August days, you know, it was awful hot, 
 Largest berries never grew in a shady spot; 
 So when you were melting fast, tired from the heat. 
 You would break the bushes down, find a shadv seat. 
 
 Underneath those big oak trees, just a mile from school, 
 There you'd pick the berries off, feeling nice and cool; 
 Then you'd go and break some more, bring a big pile 
 
 back, 
 Dodging thistles here and there and the wasp's attack. 
 
 You would never go alone, all the neighbors knew 
 Where to send their boys and girls, where best berries 
 
 grew , 
 So there was a jolly time, every pail was full. 
 When suddenly appeared in sight the farmer's angrv 
 
 bull. 
 
 He bellowed loud and pawed the earth, we scampered 
 
 towards the wall 
 And safely reached the other side with no one hurt 
 
 at all. 
 But berries ! there they stayed all day, and there they 
 
 stayed all night, 
 And there, perhaps, they're staying now if that big 
 
 bull's in sight. 
 
 32 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 IN MEMORY'S CHAMBER 
 
 In the chamber of memory are beautiful treasures, 
 
 Enticing us often to enter its doors; 
 Its pictures are full of the dearest of pleasures. 
 
 And, O, how we long just to live them once more 
 How swift sped the hours, how bright was the sunliglu 
 
 How happy the seasons those pictures recall, 
 Through the veil of the past their radiance glimmers. 
 
 Like the glow of the sunset when night shadows fall, 
 
 One canvas, presenting a scene of my childhood, 
 
 Shows sweet little faces and white slumber clothes 
 Encircling the fireside, whose bright, sparkling embers 
 
 Discover the darlings just warming their toes. 
 Another I see. — now the years have grown older. 
 
 And softly the moonlight its drapery throws 
 Round a beautiful face, nestling close to my shoulder 
 
 Enchanting and sweeter than June's blushing rose 
 
 There are moments so precious, they sparkle like dia- 
 monds, 
 
 There are hours rich as rubies, whose record is there 
 There are days, like rare gems, when the blue arch o:' 
 Heaven 
 
 Seems the curtain of Paradise, wondrously fair. 
 These treasures are ours, ours now and forever,, 
 
 Their beauty unfading, time adds to their store; 
 Peace comforts our hearts, like a sweet benediction. 
 
 While we sit by the firelight and ponder them o'er. 
 
 34 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 A Song 
 THE HILLS OF OLD NEW ENGLAND 
 
 O, the hills of old New England, 
 
 How the pictures come and go 
 As my fancy paints their beauty 
 
 'Mid the scenes of long ago ; 
 The old home beneath the maples 
 
 Where the happy children play, 
 E'en now their voices reach me 
 
 Till it seems but yesterday. 
 
 On a hill of old New England 
 
 By the spreading boughs of green 
 Stands the schoolhouse of my boj^hood ; 
 
 Many years now roll between — 
 Let the past become the present. 
 
 Brush the mists of years away. 
 And once more upon that hillside 
 
 Life is all a holiday. 
 
 O, the hills of old New England, 
 
 Rolling on 'neath summer skies, 
 Forest-crowned or waving verdure. 
 
 How their glory fills our eyes ; 
 Many lands I've traveled over. 
 
 On their sunny slopes to rest. 
 But the ,hills of old New England 
 
 Are the ones I love the best. 
 
 O, the hills of old New England, 
 
 Would you all their beauty know ; 
 See them in the winter moonlight. 
 
 When their brows are white with snow; 
 When the Ice-King drapes their shoulders 
 
 And like sentinels they stand. 
 Ever watching, cold and silent, 
 
 'Till the morn breaks o'er the land. 
 
 36 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 
 
 Go a mile or so from the old grist mill 
 
 On through the woods where 'tis dark and still 
 
 Up the grassy road, at the top of the hill 
 
 Is the old farm house alone and bare, 
 
 For a century past it has stood there, 
 
 And now like a tramp is devoid of care. 
 
 Go up in the garret and there you will spy 
 Many things that were used in the days gone by, 
 There are pots and kettles that never again 
 Will be hung by hooks on the swinging crane. 
 In the wide fireplace, over burning wood 
 Where grandmother cooked and 'twas always good. 
 
 A carpet loom by the window stands. 
 
 To be used no more by the weaver's hands ; 
 
 Back close to the eaves is the trundle-bed. 
 
 Imagine, in years that now have fled. 
 
 How it held the little ones through the night 
 
 Till early they woke at morning light ; 
 
 No one of those little ones dared to go 
 When winds around the house would blow, 
 Up in the garret in dark of night 
 Guiding their way by candle light. 
 Afraid of the ghosts that might be there. 
 Or a raggedy man on the topmost stair. 
 
 Right back of the house a barn once stood, 
 Now boards and beams that are far from good, 
 The garden is f.ull of weeds for a crop 
 Some of them climbing over the top ; 
 A broken-down curb is over the well. 
 What its contents are no one can tell, 
 And the old farm house has nothing to show 
 *Twas a happy home in the long ago. 
 
 (Not far from the "wolf den") 
 
 38 
 

 c o 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE SINGING SCHOOL 
 
 Now all together, high from low. 
 Do, ra, mi. fa, sol. la. ci. do; 
 Just follow me and sing just so. 
 Do, ci. la. sol. fa. mi, ra. do. 
 
 The violin as he swings the bow 
 Brings out the sounds, now high, now low, 
 And the teacher, singing and playing, too, 
 Is an awesome sight to his country crew. 
 
 "And now," he says. 'T will voices test; 
 You, Thomas Jones, just sing your best." 
 And Tom gives forth a rumbling roar, 
 A bass untrimmed and something more. 
 
 "Now, Alary Ann, it's up to you ; 
 Just show me now what you can do." 
 And the healthy blonde, with the yellow hair. 
 Soprano proves while the hearers stare. 
 
 "A voice I heard in the rear end seat, 
 Will Billy Smith the tone repeat?" 
 Then Smith, he gave a piercing yell, 
 Till the oil lamps shook, 'twas a tenor spell. 
 
 "An alto now we want to hear, 
 I think we have one sitting near." 
 And Nellie sang, a voice so sweet, 
 That all the school said, "Please repeat." 
 
 And so he picked them, one by one, 
 Till finally the task was done; 
 And singing school in the old town hall 
 Was started in the early fall. 
 
 40 
 
THERE'S LIGHT AHEAD 
 
 Though dark the way for many a day 
 
 Till hope is almost gone; 
 Cheer up, in time the sun will shine, 
 
 'Tis better further on. 
 In the forest path comes an aftermath, 
 
 Though shady and dark awhile, 
 There's light ahead, through the opening shed 
 
 Where the sunlight gives a smile. 
 
 41 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 SUNRISE IN LIFE 
 
 Baby Rob 
 
 Little eyes of blue and rosy cheeks, 
 Smiles and dimples when mother speaks 
 Golden ringlets round tiny ears, 
 Always so jolly, never in tears; 
 A sweet little voice no language knowing 
 But baby laughter and baby crowing, 
 Bright as an angel from above, 
 Born for happiness, born to love ; 
 Could ever there be a sight more fair 
 Than baby Rob with tlie golden hair? 
 
 SUNSET IN LIFE 
 The Two Old Men 
 
 They sat by the old fireplace, 
 
 Smoking their pipes in peace. 
 Having done their part in life. 
 
 From toil they had reached release 
 They talked and laughed, and told 
 
 Of things in the old home town, 
 Of the boys they used to know 
 
 Who now had gained renown. 
 
 Each saw in memory's hall 
 
 Bright scenes and happy days, 
 And many mistakes they made 
 
 In the parting of the ways ; 
 But now, they'd certainly be 
 
 Like Solomon, very wise. 
 And, feeling they knew it all, 
 
 The rest of the boys advise.- 
 
 42 
 
Baby Rob 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE SWELL, MOLLIE AND THE LILIES 
 
 From the city he came in his suit of pure white, 
 Hat, stockings and shoes, just the same, his delight; 
 He intended to stay just a week at the farm, 
 A sweet country giil living there was the charm. 
 He thought, dressed so nice and with cigarette too. 
 Country boys would abscond when he came in view ; 
 But Tom, Jim, and Harry just laughed at the sight 
 And vowed they would fix him before it was night. 
 
 So the boys winked at Mollie, who drew him away 
 And said, "I do want some pond lilies today, 
 There's a lot in the pond, 'tis a beautiful walk." 
 And he, thus enticed, grew soft in his talk. 
 Then through the soft meadow so lightly she trod, 
 He, eager to follow, sank his feet in the sod, 
 Mollie, laughing, called back, "O, leave your shoes there 
 For when we get home Jim will lend you a pair." 
 
 Over walls, bogs, and briars she led him with ease, 
 He stumbled and fell, tore his pants from his knees, 
 Mollie then looking back just laughed till she cried 
 When she saw a tree branch rip his coat off one side 
 And puncture his hat which was caught by the way 
 He was trying to save a few clothes in the fray. 
 "Never mind," shouted Molly, when we go home tonight 
 Tom will lend you some clothes, but they're not very 
 white." 
 
 Now the pond soon appeared, a most beautiful sight, 
 With lilies a plenty, just a scene of delight; 
 He deterrnined to win and get lilies galore, 
 But sank in the mud not far from the shore. 
 Mollie called, and the boys with ropes yanked him out 
 All streaked and black, just a ragged dish clout; 
 Then the country crowd cried, "Go take the next train 
 And don't dress in white if you come here again." 
 
 44 
 
Mollie and the Lilies 
 Photo by De \auU. In Michigan. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 A Song 
 BENEATH THE OLD ELM TREE 
 
 I wandered near the old home 
 
 Where, in the long ago, 
 There lived a happy maiden 
 
 Who kept my heart aglow ; 
 I sat, where oft we lingered, 
 
 Beneath the old elm tree, 
 And in my memory captured 
 
 Her voice of melody. 
 
 Her smiling face, enchanting. 
 
 Drew near, and I could see 
 Her witching roguish glances, 
 
 Lovelight bestowed on me. 
 And in my dream I held 
 
 Her dear warm hand in mine, 
 And once more felt the rapture 
 
 Of love almost divine. 
 
 Then waking, gazed about me, 
 
 The night grew dark and cold; 
 Alas ! 'twas but a vision, 
 
 My days were growing old ; 
 With longing I reached backward 
 
 To grasp those days of yore,— 
 The elm tree branches whispered, 
 
 Soft whispered, "nevermore." 
 
 46 
 
"1 wandered near the old hoiHe."' Pliuto by Dr. E. I-'. IJeckwith 
 In Michigan 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 NATURE'S PLAY 
 
 Blue is the sky dome over the green, 
 Golden the sunshine sifting between 
 Branches that lazily sway in the breeze, 
 Showering the shadows under the trees 
 With arrows of light from the quiver of noon, 
 By the bow whose arch is the bright sky of June. 
 
 Sweet is the air with the perfume of flowers 
 Yielding their life through the long sunny hours; 
 With the song of the birds and the kiss of the dawn 
 To give them a welcome, their beauty was born. 
 And now seeks the sun its nightly repose, 
 While over its couch drapes a curtain of rose. 
 
 The clouds rolling upward in waves from the west. 
 Wear the colors of heaven with silvery crest, 
 Where the moon proudly sailing disperses her light 
 Till the little stars modestly creep out of sight. 
 These beautiful charms of the night and the day 
 Are glorious acts in Nature's grand play. 
 
 A Song 
 A BUNCH OF VIOLETS 
 
 Only a bunch of violets sweet, 
 
 Only a vision of heavenly blue ; 
 
 Only blue eyes they love to meet, 
 
 Only a token of love for you. 
 
 Only a little gift 'tis true. 
 
 Yet when you look with your eyes of blue 
 
 Over them fondly with tender care, 
 
 Surely my love will meet you there. 
 
 48 
 
"With arrows ot light from the ouiver of noon." 
 Photo by Oliver T. Waite. In Penn. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 Only a bunch of violets sweet, 
 Telling the story of lovely spring ; 
 Shyly they bloom where the birds retreat, 
 Near by the woodland their songs to sing. 
 Blue are the skies on a summer day, 
 Blue are the hills in the far-away; 
 Blue are these violets, yet, 'tis true, 
 Lovelier still are your eyes of blue. 
 
 Only a bunch of violets sweet, 
 Only blue eyes they love to meet; 
 So do I send them with joy to you, 
 Breathing my love in these violets blue. 
 
 AFTER THE SHOWER 
 
 After the shower comes a golden refrain. 
 
 Nature smiling through tears, joy-tears from the rain ; 
 
 After the showers, showers that gladden the earth, 
 
 Blade, blossom, and leaf feel the joy of new birth. 
 
 After our trials are fought one by one, 
 
 Life strengthens and glows when the victory's won. 
 
 After wd've wandered astray in life's vale 
 
 Comes a brighter outlook when we strike the right trail. 
 
 50 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 PEEP, PEEP, PEEP 
 
 Way down in the swamp, by the pasture near, 
 The first voices of spring, spring actually here. 
 
 Peep, peep, peep, 
 They are little peep-frogs in invisible togs. 
 Peep, peep, peep. 
 When the twilight descends, 
 Thus they call to their friends. 
 "Spring gently awakes 
 From our long slumber takes 
 Till we peep, peep, peep." 
 
 YELLOW COWSLIPS 
 
 Out in the woods in the early spring 
 When the joy of birds just makes them sing; 
 Down in the swamp where the alders grow, 
 'Twixt mossy bogs where dull waters flow ; 
 With bright green leaves, near the mosses old 
 Are the early cowslips with hues of gold. 
 
 What a joy supreme, just to wander there 
 From bog to bog, look out ! take care ! 
 Then a careless tread betrays your feet 
 And their muddy tops is mud complete ; 
 A few more steps and you make a pull 
 For the solid ground with your basket full. 
 
 The songs of spring are in the air. 
 
 The swelling buds their faith declare 
 
 That the winter days are past and gone 
 
 And the green-trimmed boughs are hastening on 
 
 To make the woods a leafy bower 
 
 Where the sunlight shoots its arrow shower. 
 
 52 
 
"Peep, peep, peep." 
 
 "Out in the woods in early spring." 
 
 Photo by Dr. E. T. Beckwith. In Michigan. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 PEACE 
 
 On the moonlit sands by the summer sea, 
 Above, the vast infinity, 
 Full of celestial harmony ; 
 Around, a sweet tranquility, 
 The slumbering' day's last lullaby,— 
 Stilled by the night's soft witchery, 
 We sit and dream. 
 
 The world is gone with yesterday;— 
 Beyond, is all a mystery, 
 Now, from the Night's divinity. 
 Falls with her beauteous drapery, 
 Falls on our souls like melody, 
 A happy peace. 
 
 DAISIES 
 
 Daisies purple, daisies white, 
 Ox-eyed daisies, golden bright ; 
 Every little blossom knows. 
 When the summer south wind bk)ws, 
 Waving grassy slopes in June, 
 That its short life endeth soon. 
 
 So it uses all its power, 
 Buds are opening every hour, 
 Fields of daisies, purest white 
 Glisten in the soft sunlight, 
 Gaily dotted here and there 
 Where the happy children are. 
 
 Picking all they want and more, 
 Making daisy chains galore. 
 Shouting, laughing, full of glee, 
 Not a care, from labor free. 
 Daisy time in leafy June 
 Perfect chord in Nature's tune 
 
 54 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 "POKIN' 'ROUND." 
 
 Now, Thomas Jones, you scoot for home, 
 Nobody axed you here to come, 
 'Cause you found out he'd gone to town 
 You chmbed the fence and poked around, 
 A-grabbin' things you knowed was his. 
 Now just git out and mind you biz. 
 
 There's lots of folks go pokin' round, 
 I wonder if they've ever found 
 luiough to pay them for their sin 
 Of pokin' round and buttin' in, 
 A-tryin to git what ain't their own, 
 Somebodv's meat and leave the bone. 
 
 "Daisies purple, daisies white." In Conn. 
 
 55 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 Blue Fringed Gentian 
 
 Blue fringed gentian 
 
 Claims attention 
 In September hours ; 
 
 Born of sunlight, 
 
 'Tis its birthright, 
 Queen of all wild flowers. 
 
 You must travel 
 
 To unravel 
 Questions where to find it; 
 
 One year, hither, 
 
 Next year, thither; 
 Leaves no trace behind it. 
 
 By the brookside 
 
 Near the noontide. 
 There its beauty glows; 
 
 Buds uplifted, 
 
 Opened, rifted, 
 When the sunshine flows. 
 
 Sky blue tinges. 
 
 Dainty fringes 
 'Round their lovely bells ; 
 
 Is the story" 
 
 Of their glory 
 That the vision tells. 
 
Blue Fringed Gentians. Photo by W. R. Pond. 
 In Conn. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 Golden ROD 
 
 Near the old stone wall, by the country road, 
 Close by the fence, after fields are mowed, 
 Bowing politely, to those who had trod 
 Over the hills, is the goldenrod. 
 
 All day long with the winds at play, 
 Growing in beauty day by day; 
 Counting its bloom as a mass of gold. 
 Despising all others as poor and old. 
 
 O, the goldenrod is a proud young thing 
 And swa} s its head with a saucy fling, 
 But when you meet it and stop a while, 
 It greets you then with a winning smile. 
 
 OCTOBER DAYS 
 
 In the golden haze of October days, 
 In the woodland valleys and hills 
 
 Ihere are showers of gold for the leaves 
 grown old. 
 Drop fast into Nature's tills. 
 
 Then the prickly burrs, when the sharp wind 
 stirs 
 
 Every branch of tlic chestnut tree. 
 Opened wide by frost, never heed the -cost, 
 
 But give of their treasures free. 
 
 O those woodland hills, how their beauty thrills, 
 
 Bright tinted from red to gold ; 
 'Tis a farewell song while we drift along 
 
 Toward the days when the year is old. 
 
 58 
 
'Near the old stone walls by the country road. 
 Photo by W. L. Pond. In Brooklyn. Conn. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 IN THE HIGH-BACK SLEIGH 
 
 Over the hills in the high-back sleigh, 
 Over the hills on that sunny day, 
 Diamonds on shrubs and ice-bound trees 
 Flashed when stirred by the morning breeze, 
 For the winter night of mist and rain 
 Had trimmed them over and over again. 
 
 Over the hills in the high-back sleigh 
 With buffalo robes the cold to stay, 
 And soap-stones hot, wrapped snug and neat 
 In grandma's shawl to warm your feet, 
 One hand sufficient the horse to guide, 
 One arm to keep close by your side 
 
 The dearest girl you ever knew. 
 With rosy cheeks and eyes of blue, 
 And 'neath her hood strayed many a curl. 
 Her smiles to wreath, your head to whirl. 
 'Twas a joy supreme that winter day 
 Over the hills in the high-back sleigh. 
 
 Over the hills in the high-back sleigh — 
 
 When memory brings the far-away,, 
 
 You can almost hear the sleigh-bells ring 
 
 And see the white fields hurrying 
 
 By, as they did that sunny day 
 
 When you rode with her in the high-back sleigh. 
 
 60 
 

 ••*r-=:*^t-„ 
 
 , .^i«fc;J'. .« B!x^ -■ 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 ALWAYS WEAR A SMILE 
 
 There's never a darkened forest 
 That the sunlight doesn't peep in 
 
 And help each budding plant 
 A beautiful life to win. 
 
 There's never a raging tempest 
 
 No power of man can quell, 
 But He, who rules the storm, 
 
 Speaks peace, and all is well. 
 
 There's never a day so dreary, 
 
 Or a night so sad and lone. 
 But passing, life is brighter 
 
 If we live its purest tone. 
 
 There's never a cloud so darksome, 
 Or a shadow across the way, 
 
 But will vanish like dew in the meadows 
 In the morn of a summer day. 
 
 So fight life's battle bravely 
 
 And always wear a smile, 
 Compared with a lasting victory, 
 
 'Tis fight but a little while. 
 
 62 
 
And help each budding plant a beautiful life to 
 Photo bv De \ ault. In Michigan. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE SEA 
 
 By the rolling sea. on the wave-beat shore, 
 Is the place I love when the breakers roar; 
 When the howling winds drive the angry skies 
 Till the shadows grow where the sea-gull flies. 
 
 When the cloudless sky wears a turpoise hue, 
 Then the sea replies with a deeper blue ; 
 And its feathery edge a white rim shows 
 Where the sandy beach in the sunlight glows. 
 
 How the moon's soft rays, in the summer night. 
 On the dimpling waves paint a path of light ; 
 And the stars like diamonds gleam afar. 
 While the sea sobs low on the harbor bar. 
 
 There's never a day and never an hour, 
 When by the sea, but we feel its power ; 
 And whether its mood be wild or tame. 
 Its spell is over us just the same. 
 
 The years will come and the years will, go 
 While ever its tide will ebb and flow; 
 And never its breast rest quietly 
 Till it laps the shore of eternity. 
 
-By the rolling sea. on the wave-beat shore." 
 On Massachusetts Coast 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 SCHOOLDAYS IN THE COUNTRY 
 
 In the dewy morning, over hills and dales. 
 
 Merry voices ringing, shining dinner-pails; 
 
 Up the hill they scramble towards the schoolhouse door, 
 
 Just as you and I did, — many years before. 
 
 Little barefoot Tommy, Rob and sister Sue, 
 Curly-headed Mary in her suit of blue. 
 Row by row they're seated, faces all aglow, 
 'Cepting "Stubby Peter," sliver in his toe. 
 
 Teacher calls to order, "Class in 'rithmetic, 
 Places at the blackboard, every one be quick." 
 How the chalk does rattle till the problem's done; 
 Bennie proves the victor, calls out "Number one." 
 
 Now the writing lesson; see them try to write, 
 Noses near the paper, some with tongue in sight ; 
 Little heads a-twisting, think they'll do it better; 
 Gracious ! what an effort, just to make a letter. 
 
 So the lessons follow till the noon is near ; 
 Then a solemn stillness while they wait to hear 
 Just a little tingle, then with rush and roar. 
 From the desks and benches, out the schoolhouse door 
 
 Pour the lads and lasses, bound to have some fun, 
 Every minute precious till the clock strikes one. 
 "School-days in the country"; were you ever in it? 
 What a world of gladness pressed in every minute. 
 
 66 
 
Come on in, the water is fine. 
 Phnrn hv W. R. Pond. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE SEA MYSTERY 
 
 There's a charm unknown ti) the dweller far 
 From the sandy shore where the breakers are. 
 To feel the spell that will round you twine, 
 In the summer even on the sand recline, 
 While the rosy glow of the waning light 
 Waves a parting kiss to the starry night. 
 
 Over the sea, over the sea, 
 
 Gaze while the waves chant a soft melody, 
 
 Lapping incessantly, lapping the shore, 
 
 Giving and taking, but taking far more, 
 
 Till the curves on the beach grow wide in their reach 
 
 And the undertow carries the sand to its store. 
 
 Over the sea, over the sea, 
 Look till enthralled by the sea mystery, 
 Your life in the past dissolves from your view 
 And you seemingly enter the far -aw^ay blue. 
 
 'Tis the charm of the sea, clinging, holding you tight 
 That keeps you, a watcher, far into the night 
 Till, breaking its spell, you wander away, 
 But know it will draw you again some day. 
 
 68 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE OLD WOOLEN JACKET 
 
 How dear to my heart are the clothes of my childhood, 
 
 Though rarely, if ever. I had any new. 
 The straw hat, the jumper, the pants that were patched 
 good ; 
 
 No bare spots appeared till my feet came in view. 
 The old woolen jacket that hung by the door; 
 
 How often at night on returning from school, 
 I found it the source of exquisite comfort 
 
 To button it tight when the weather was cool. 
 
 The old woolen jacket. 
 The patch-covered jacket, 
 The heav3% warm jacket 
 That hung by the door. 
 
 That old woolen jacket, .vhen new, was a beauty, 
 
 And worn by the brother then oldest in line, 
 From brother to brother it slowly descended 
 
 Until at the last that jacket was mine. 
 'Twas stretched in the arm-holes, 'twas torn in the 
 collar; 
 
 Its colors were many, like Joseph's, of old. 
 Though striped in front and patches around it. 
 
 In the cold winds of winter 'twas better than gold. 
 
 The old woolen jacket. 
 The patch-covered jacket, 
 The heavy, warm jacket 
 That hung by the door. 
 Near "the old oaken bucket." 
 
 70 
 
POEMS FROiyi ■''LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 HAYING, SOME MEMORY TALKS 
 
 Did you ever smell the new-mown grass. 
 Or ever have leisure the time to pass, 
 Though short, yet sweet, in the held to rest 
 While the haying season was at its best? 
 If so. you heard the birds' sweet song. 
 You watched, you listened, and waited long, 
 And shortened the time for your homeward walk 
 You can't forget, there'll be memory talk 
 
 In a quiet wa\-, 
 Of the pleasures you had that summer day. 
 
 Down in the meadow in haying time. 
 
 In days of old, when the scythes would ciiime, 
 
 While the men, in shirts and overalls. 
 
 Would whet them sharp for many falls 
 
 Of the waving grass into winrows sweet. 
 
 And the straw-hat boy with scratched bare feet 
 
 Would spread it wide with his two-tined fork; 
 
 Is the place that makes my memory talk 
 
 In a quiet way, 
 Of the old home farm and making hay. 
 
 And then, in the fervid afternoon 
 We would rake the hay up- none too soon. 
 For the thunder-heads in the west appeared 
 Like fleece from a sheep that was newly sheared; 
 No time to waste, 'twas the workers' test. 
 For the clouds grew darker in the west. 
 'Twas a rush to the barn, to run. not walk ; 
 And that, too. makes my memory talk 
 
 In a quiet way, 
 Of how we escaped the shower that day. 
 
 71 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 IN THE FOREST 
 
 Roaming idly in the forest 
 
 In the leafy month of June, 
 Is a charm that wraps the senses. 
 
 When all nature is in tune. 
 Beautiful in early morning 
 
 Just to wander, careless, free, 
 In the silence that is broken 
 
 Only by the melody 
 Of the happy, joyous songsters. 
 
 Praise of nature they intone 
 Far above the danger region, 
 
 Each a king upon his throne. 
 
 Sit upon the bank and listen 
 
 While the brook across your path 
 Ripples soft, and sunlight arrows 
 
 Shoot a beauteous aftermath. 
 Watch the branches gently swaying, 
 
 Bowing to the summer breeze; 
 See the ights and shadows playing. 
 
 Woodland fairies 'mid the trees. 
 Then look upward through the rifting, 
 
 See ihe glorious azure blue 
 Hovermg over little cloudlets, 
 
 Tiny cloudlets, white and new. 
 You will love her kindly wooing, 
 
 Feel the grasp of Nature's hand, 
 Giving you the strength for doing, 
 
 Acting, meeting life's demand. 
 
 72 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 ONE SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 Breaking gently in milky foam. 
 Then returning, again to come; 
 Constant never. 
 Coqueting ever. 
 Trimming with lace the curving shore, 
 With silver fringing it o'er and o'er; 
 Thus did the waves, one summer night. 
 While we watched them play in the mellow light. 
 
 The moon looked down on an opal sea, 
 Which softly sang a lullaby; 
 Born of the spirit of sad unrest. 
 Flashing the diamonds on its breast. 
 
 O, never a fairer sight was seen 
 Than met our gaze that summer e'en ; 
 The long white reach 
 Of the sandy beach, 
 Bathed in a marvelous pearly light. 
 Beckoned us on through the beauteous night; 
 It seemed like a walk on the Heavenly shore, 
 By the bou..dless sea of the Evermore. 
 
 'Twas a night to live in memory, 
 
 Just the fairest picture there. 
 
 To calm the troubled spirit. 
 
 Like the breath of an angel's prayer. 
 
 A haze, like the rainbow's shadow, 
 Crept down the arched sky, 
 Weaving with warp of moonlight 
 
 A royal canopy. 
 Whose folds were pinned with starlights, 
 Whose beauty draped the sea, 
 And all the realm of nature 
 Was one grand harmony. 
 
 74 
 
"The moon looked down on an opal sea.'' 
 On Massachusetts Coast 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE ANGELS' SWEETEST SONG 
 
 'Twas at the hour of midnight, 
 
 When earth in slumber lay, 
 I dreamed of heavenly music 
 
 Coming from far away; 
 A melody far sweeter 
 
 Than mortals ever heard, 
 It drew me nearer, nearer. 
 
 My very soul was stirred. 
 
 Whence came this wondrous music? 
 
 No being on this earth 
 Could ever write its pages. 
 
 Or ever give it birth ; 
 The harmony was perfect. 
 
 It could not be surpassed, 
 I listened, fondly hoping 
 
 That it might always last. 
 
 Then fled the dark of midnight, 
 
 The heavens opened wide, 
 I saw the angels singing, 
 
 Before the Crucified, 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand, 
 
 Unnumbered was the throng. 
 And like the Avaves of ocean 
 
 The music rolled along. 
 
 The stars no longer glittered 
 
 And vanished one by one. 
 Awed by the matchless glory 
 
 That in the heavens shone ; 
 Triumphant was the music, 
 
 Naught could resist it long, 
 And I had heard in dreamland 
 
 The angels' sweetest song. 
 
 76 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 A Song 
 RlXGlxXG Ol< TlIK CHIMES 
 
 Chimes were sweetly ringing, 
 
 Ringing one summer eve, 
 Dropping tlieir musical diamonds 
 
 Down in a fairy sieve 
 Made by the lights and shadows 
 
 Moating beneath the trees, 
 (iently woven together 
 
 By the soft evening breeze. 
 
 Chimes were ringing, ringing, 
 
 Ringing each joyful bell. 
 Dropping their nuisical diamonds 
 The old. old songs to tell. 
 
 Sitting there. I listened, 
 
 Listened to hear their ring; 
 Ringing the old-time music. 
 
 Songs that 1 used to sing; 
 Then, when their musical story 
 
 Ended at twilight's fall. 
 Waves of the past were bringing 
 
 Songs from my memory's hall. 
 
 Chimes were ringing, ringing. 
 Ringing each joyful bell. 
 
 Dropping their musical diamonds 
 The old. old songs to tell. 
 
 Eong-lost melodies, creeping 
 Out of the sands of time. 
 Tuned bv mv fanciful musings. 
 
 n 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 Tuned to a tone sublime; 
 Moonlight, shadowy visions, 
 
 Visions of olden times, 
 Folded their charms around me, 
 
 Moved by the ringing chimes. 
 
 Chimes were ringing, ringing, 
 
 Ringing each joyful bell. 
 Dropping their musical diamonds 
 
 The old, old songs to tell. 
 
 (One summer eve, while sitting under the trees in the Boston 
 public garden, near to the many churches.) 
 
 A Song 
 A LIGHT FROM PARADISE 
 
 I dreamed that I sailed on a river fair 
 
 Towards the heavenly Jerusalem, 
 While from far away, all the golden day. 
 
 Came sweet songs from the angels' home. 
 
 A storm swept the waters, the daylight fled. 
 Dark the night, fierce the wind and cold. 
 
 But I knew that the King of that heavenly land 
 Would bring me safe into His fold. 
 
 T dreamed that the King sent his angels down, 
 That they played on their harps of gold, 
 
 Till the storm was stilled and my soul was thrilled 
 While the harmonies upward rolled. 
 
 The darkness of night sped softly away, 
 Ne'er a cloud in the sky's blue dome, 
 
 Then a glorious Light shone from Paradise 
 And I knew I was almost home. 
 
 78 
 
f^) m 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE COTTAGER 
 
 When the setting sun with its slanting rays 
 On the fleecy clouds paints a crimson blaze, 
 And the sparrow's nest in the roof of thatch, 
 Then his door swings with its loosened latch. 
 And the cottager loves in his easy chair 
 To sit and rest in comfort there. 
 
 To him kind Nature gifts will bring, 
 The flowers will bloom, the birds will sing, 
 And the waving grass on the hillsides green 
 Is a picture fair as the eye hath seen; 
 And though he works and digs the ditch, 
 He envys not the idle rich. 
 
 For when his long days' work is done. 
 Work since the rising of the sun, 
 His little children often come 
 To meet him ere he reaches home. 
 
 And happy pass the evening hours 
 
 Amid the vines and leafy bowers 
 That cluster round his cottage door; 
 Contented there, he wants no more. 
 
 There's happiness in country life, 
 Free from the endless toil and strife 
 That often mar and leave their trace 
 On many a one-time happy face. 
 
 80 
 
i> c 
 
 e . 
 
 s -^ 
 
 3 
 .4> C 
 
 
 
"In the shade of the old garden apple tree, 
 Photo by E. R. Bolander. 
 
 SPRINGTIME 
 
 resting. 
 
 In the shade of the old garden apple tree resting; 
 
 While breezes play softly 'mid blossoms and leaves, 
 And in its green branches the robins are nesting; 
 
 Glad notes of the springtime my fancy receives, 
 n. perfume delicious my breath is inhaling, 
 
 The arch of the sky wears a lovely May blue, 
 And over its sea the white clouds are sailing, 
 
 Till, harbored in sunlight, they vanish from view. 
 
 Now down by the meadows where flowers are. springing. 
 
 The swallows are curving in crescents of light, 
 While sweet on the air falls the jubilant singing 
 
 Of birds new redeemed from the winter's long night 
 O, glorious springtime, when earth is awaking. 
 
 And Nature in beautiful garments is dressed; 
 Thy smile giveth life to each day's undertaking. 
 
 Thy generous heart ever brings us the best. 
 
 82 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 FALLING LEAVES 
 
 Falling leaves, falling leaves, 
 
 Back to earth, 
 Back to the source that gave thetn birth. 
 So do we, life's voyage past, 
 Take down the sails, release the mast, 
 And through the breakers, cross the beach 
 Our Father's welcome home to reach. 
 
 THAT MORNING RIDE 
 
 'Twas a happy couple that summer morn 
 Bill tooted and tooted his auto horn. 
 And Molly beside him, dressed in white. 
 Was very bewitching, a lovely sight. 
 
 The ride by many fertile farm 
 With its fields of corn gave added charm, 
 And the Jersey cows were chewing over 
 Again their feed of sweetest clover. 
 
 Bill looked at Moll, Moll looked at Bill, 
 There were hunger signs though they kept stil 
 At last Bill said, "What shall we eat? 
 Berries and cream would be a treat. 
 
 There's a basketful in the box behind 
 With a jar of cream, of the Jersey kind, 
 Saucers and spoons you'll find there, too; 
 Now Molly dear, it's up to you." 
 
 They stopped beneath a royal oak. 
 So full of joy that neither spoke: 
 Those berries and that Jersey cream 
 Soon vanished like a summer dream. 
 
 83 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 A Song 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE ON THE HILL 
 
 In the golden summer morning, 
 
 Down the sunny windmg road, 
 By the verdant, flowery meadows; 
 
 How my heart with joy o'erflowed — 
 O, the happy days of childhood, 
 
 Recollection brings a thrill, 
 As in fancy now I wander 
 
 Near the schoolhouse on the hill. 
 
 Birds are singing by the wayside, 
 
 There's a nest 'mid bowers of green, 
 Berries ripe stain little fingers 
 
 While they search the briars between ; 
 Wealth of beauty, joy and sunshine, 
 
 Nature's best our longings fill 
 While we trudge along the pathway 
 
 Towards the schoolhouse on the hill. 
 
 Blue the skies that shine above it. 
 
 Curtained by the whispering trees. 
 Rich the memories clustering round it. 
 
 Sweeter than the summer breeze. 
 Smooth and hollow is its doorstep. 
 
 Worn and thin its ancient sill 
 By the little feet that entered 
 
 In the schoolhouse on the hill.' 
 
 There's a chamber in my memorj^ 
 
 In my heart are held the keys, 
 And its treasure, schooldays' sweetheart 
 
 Will remain till heavens' release : 
 Though the years have cast their shadows, 
 
 Yet, through all there linger still, 
 Visions of my little sweetheart 
 
 In the schoolhouse on the hill. 
 
 84 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE OLD RING GAME 
 
 •'On the carpet here we stand, 
 Take your true-love by the hand, 
 Take the one that you love best 
 Before you close your eyes to rest." 
 
 There was one little girl with the auburn curl 
 
 And she knew that you loved her best, 
 For 'twas always the same in playing that game, 
 
 You would take her and leave the rest. 
 But that one little girl with the auburn curl 
 
 Had a choice of her own to show. 
 And your heart would ache when she chose to take 
 
 That bov with his hair like tow. 
 
 'Tn tlic golden t^umnier morning." Photo by W 
 In Brooklyn. Conn. 
 
 85 
 
 Pond. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 POPPING THE QUESTION 
 
 Miss Sallie sat by the window, 
 
 Waiting for Jimmie to come, 
 Daintily clad in her Sunday's, 
 
 Chewing her spearmint gum, 
 Thinking and thinking and hoping, 
 
 Hoping tonight he would pop, 
 For Jim had a bad hesitation. 
 
 When started, 'twas that made him stop. 
 
 Mother was near in the kitchen, 
 
 Daddy reading by dim candle light, 
 Moonlight outside was bewitching. 
 
 Now surely he'd pop it tonight. 
 Soon Jimmie appeared in the gateway, 
 
 Quick Sallie met him at the door, 
 "Nice evening,' 'he said with a stutter, 
 
 Then stopped for he couldn't say more. 
 
 In the parlor they sat on the sofa, 
 
 But Jimmie in silence remained, 
 I'll pop it myself, thought Miss Sallie, 
 
 And then there will be something gained. 
 So laying her head on his shoulder, 
 
 She gave him a gentle caress, 
 "Will you marry me, Jimmie," she uttered, 
 
 And Jimmie quite faintly said "Yes.^ 
 
 86 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 HOME FOR THANKSGIVING 
 
 Home for Thanksgiving, from far and wide 
 All over the land flows the homeward tide 
 Of many, removed by its outward flow 
 From the dear old home in the long ago. 
 
 Home for Thanksgiving is the song 
 And many of us have waited long 
 For the day when we could make it true 
 And prove the old song good as new. 
 
 We try to remember as we grow old, 
 Though never to us was its date foretold. 
 The last time all were gathered there 
 And around the table no vacant chair. 
 
 But the passing of time has broken the Hst 
 And here and there some one is missed, 
 For some have followed the King's command 
 And gone to a home in the better land. 
 
 Yet oft in our hearts the wish will come 
 We could meet once more in the dear old home 
 And under its rooftree laugh and sing, 
 Make a joyful feast of Thanksgiving. 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE HUSKING PARTY 
 
 There is going to be a husking 
 
 At the William Potter farm, 
 And I know by what they're doing, 
 
 It will surely be a charm; 
 Many shocks of corn are standing 
 
 In the barn along the floor. 
 Overhead are rows of lanterns, 
 
 New and shiny, by the score ; 
 They have searched the wood and marshes 
 
 For the best of evergreens. 
 Made them into cozy bovvers, 
 
 Bowers fit for Fairy Queens. 
 
 When the husking time is over 
 
 Farmer boys will clear the floor, 
 Teddy Roose will play the fiddle 
 
 While they dance an hour or more; 
 Then will come the time for supper. 
 
 Supper fit for any king. 
 Pies and doughnuts, cakes and jellies, 
 
 Just the best of everything; 
 Cider sweet, fresh from the presses. 
 
 Made of apples ripe and red. 
 Even now it makes me thirsty; 
 
 It will never swell your head. 
 
 "Mary, dear, I'm here to ask you. 
 May I call for you tonicht? 
 May I take you to the husking? 
 It will give me great delight ; 
 If I chance to find a red ear 
 
 I shall claim a prize from you. 
 So I want you close beside me. 
 Watching with your eyes of blue" 
 "Yes. indeed,.! thank you kindly. 
 Call for me. I'll gladly go: 
 But be careful, do not lead me 
 Underneath the mistletoe." 
 
 89 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE SU^l^lER NIGHT 
 
 Soft whispering in the leafy trees, 
 The sUimber-soothino- gentle breeze 
 With fairy wand distnrbs the air, 
 I'illed with the breath of roses rare. 
 
 Descending in the langnorons night. 
 With silent move, tlie moonlight bright 
 Creeps through the windows just to pecj) 
 At white-robed darlings, lost in sleep. 
 
 O summer night I 'tis Nature's sleep. 
 O'er all the earth its rest will creep. 
 .\nd he who daily does his best, 
 Will largest share in Nature's rest. 
 
 ALONG T!!E RTVKR BANKS 
 
 Along the river banks we wandered, you and 1. 
 Full happy in today and thoughts of by and by; 
 Above the shaded path the gentle summer breeze 
 Seemed whispering a song amid the rustling leaves. 
 
 Along the river banks we wandered, you and I, 
 The brightest day in June, beneath a cloudless sky; 
 The river glided on 'twixt banks of emerald green, 
 Bedecked with loxely llowers. kind Natiu^e's smiles 
 serene. 
 
 Along the river banks. 1 never can forget 
 Those happy hours we spent in memory linger > et ; 
 Upon tlie bank we sat. charmed with the smnmer ni-lii. 
 Born of the sunset ra.\s and fading soft twiliglit. 
 
 Along the river banks, 'twas in the long ago. 
 And there we made om- vows, together we would go 
 Along the stream of life, each in each other's care. 
 Contented on our way, all joys and griefs to share. 
 
 90 
 
POEMS FROM LIFE'S EXPERIENCE 
 
 IX THE TRUNDLE-BED 
 
 Three little tots in the trundle-bed, 
 To the land of Nod in their dreams have fled, 
 And often a smile, while you gaze, appears 
 Which the fairies gave to the little dears. 
 
 The three Httle tots in the trundle-bed. 
 Would lie so still till their prayers were said, 
 But after mother had said good-night, 
 And tucked them into the bed-clothes tight. 
 
 They would tumble and roll till you couldn't tell 
 Where Tommy began, or which was Nell, 
 And Jimmie, the leader, would shout with glee 
 While his head would bob where his feet should be. 
 
 And Tommy by poking the sheet up high 
 Would make a white tent in which they could lie; 
 They frolicked and laughed, were a noisy crew, 
 Each tried to do more than the others could do. 
 
 But tired at last, father's voice they heard, 
 "Children, keep still," soon they hardly stirred. 
 So the three little tots in the trundle-bed,. 
 To the land of Nod then quickly fled. 
 
 92 
 
W 13 
 

 
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