< r/ 
 
 //
 
 POETICAL SCRAPS 
 
 AND 
 
 SCRIBBLINGS, 
 
 WRITTEN BY M. II. JEXKS, 
 
 FROM EARLY BOYHOOD TO SEVENTY-TWO YEARS OF AGE, 
 
 AND PRINTED AT THE REQUEST OF 
 HIS CHILDREN AND GRAND-CHILDREN. 
 
 < Gather up the fragments, 
 Let nothin be lost." Franklin. 
 
 I frequently, to kill the time, 
 Take up my pen and make a rhyme ; 
 And though the babbling world can see, 
 It profits none it pleases me. 
 
 DOYLESTOWN. 
 HEJfRY T. DARtlNGtON, PRINTER. 
 
 1867.
 
 NOTE. My children and grand-children, for several years past, have 
 been persuading me to have some of my poetical scraps and pieces 
 printed, and at last I have consented to gratify them. They are not 
 intended for the public eye. nor to be read by the critic. A feic of 
 them possess some merit, but many are light and chaffy, and hardly 
 worthy of publication ; but such as they are. if they are valued by my 
 children, it is all I expect or desire. 
 
 M. H. JEXKS. 
 
 JULY, 1867.
 
 Stack 
 
 Annex 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 PROMIS-CUOUS PIECES. PAGE. 
 
 My First Mary, 7 
 
 To my First Mary, 8 
 
 My First Mary s Orange Tree, 8 
 
 The Name of Mary, 9 
 
 My Second Mary, 10 
 
 Lines to my "Wife Ann, 11 
 
 To my Wife Ann, 12 
 
 Lines occasioned by attending the Funeral of a Loved Friend,.. 14 
 
 Tear. In imitation of Byron, 15 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Melody. In imitation of Moore s "Nothing true but Heaven,".. 19 
 
 To Sleep, 20 
 
 Ode to Love, 21 
 
 To Pleasure, 22 
 
 To Narcissa, 24 
 
 Moments Spent with those I Love, 25 
 
 Spring, 26 
 
 The Lark s Nest, 28 
 
 Reflections on the Death of a Father, 29 
 
 To the Mumps, 32 
 
 To Health, 33 
 
 Woman, 34 
 
 Lines on the Death of Mary Landis, 35 
 
 The Smile, 36 
 
 The Seasons, 37 
 
 Rural Stanzas. A Scene on the Brandywine, 38 
 
 ODES TO NESIIAMINY. 
 
 No. I., 41 
 
 No. II., 42 
 
 No. III., 43 
 
 No. IV., 45 
 
 No. V., 47 
 
 To Eliza, 48
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 BOYHOOD SCRIBBLIXGS. PAGE. 
 
 Lines to Miss S,.., S.^^^r, 53 
 
 Acrostic No. I., 54 
 
 Acrostic No. II., 55 
 
 Acrostic No. III., 56 
 
 To Miss ., 57 
 
 To Hannah, 58 
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 To a Beautiful Woman, 61 
 
 Song* In imitation of " Bendemere s Stream," 62 
 
 To S.,.h,- 63 
 
 Effusions of Feeling. To one who tinderstands them, 64 
 
 To Emma, 66 
 
 The Bard s Petition. A. Parody, 67 
 
 To Susan, 6D 
 
 Verses written in an Album of a fair Friend, 70 
 
 Lines altered from Moore, 71 
 
 To " Spungers," 71 
 
 Lines supposed to have been written by my wife Nancy, 72 
 
 Lines supposed to have been written by a young friend of mine, 73 
 
 To Hannah, 74 
 
 Lines of Regret, 75 
 
 Impromptu. Written at Cape May, July, 1843, 75 
 
 A Request of a Friend, 7G 
 
 To a fair and valued Friend, 77 
 
 To T.^y J..,y, 78 
 
 To Sallie, 78 
 
 Farewell to Illinois, 79 
 
 To a Friend, 80 
 
 Letter to my dear wife Ann, 80 
 
 Lines written in my young friend Julia s Album, 81 
 
 Scraps, 82 
 
 Lines supposed to be written by an old Bachelor of our town,.. 83 
 
 To Ann, 84 
 
 Lines in an Advertisement for the sale of a Drove of Hogs, .... 84 
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 Letter No. I., 87 
 
 Letter No. II., 90 
 
 Letter No. III., 93 
 
 Letter No. IV., 97 
 
 Letter No. V., 100 
 
 Letter No. VI., 103
 
 PROMISCUOUS PIECES.
 
 MY FIRST MARY. 
 
 The leaves of Autumn fade, 
 The scenes of Nature vary; 
 
 But God, in wisdom, made 
 Thee free from changes, Mary. 
 
 From paths of rectitude 
 Thy feet depart but rarely, 
 
 And seldom aught but good 
 Is heard or known of Mary. 
 
 If (as is oft the case,) 
 
 Things show themselves contrary, 
 No anger burns thy face 
 
 Wise, prudent, pious Mary. 
 
 Oh ! while this Life is thine 
 
 And long may Heaven spare thce; 
 
 May health and strength combine, 
 With happiness, in Mary. 
 
 And when the God of Love, 
 
 Is pleased from Earth to tear thcc, 
 
 Peace to thy soul above 
 Jtest to thy ashes, Mary.
 
 8 PROMISCUOUS PIECES. 
 
 TO MY FIRST MARY. 
 
 " As free as air I roved till now." 
 
 So long had I run, through Life s brambles, 
 Unentangled by Love, or the Fair, 
 
 I d begun to conclude that my rambles 
 Were ever to be, " free as air." 
 
 But, alas! tis in vain to deny it, 
 The wound is too deep to conceal. 
 
 Dear girl, thou hast ruined my quiet 
 Oh! be my physician, and heal. 
 
 Adieu! ye departed, sweet hours, 
 
 And must I ne er know such again ? 
 There ever is something, which sours 
 
 pathway through Time, and gives pain. 
 
 MY FIRST MARY S ORANGE TREE. 
 
 Tis the last living thing that was hers the old Orange 
 Tree, 
 
 And its deep-green leaf never varies ; 
 Though others don t value the relic, tis valued by me ; 
 
 I love it, because it was Mary s.
 
 PROMISCUOUS PIECES. 9 
 
 Yes ! I love it, because it was hers. She took a delight 
 In smelling its blossoms, and cleaning its limbs. 
 
 The old Orange Tree let it live, tis a beautiful sight; 
 Deem me weak, if you please tis one of my whims. 
 
 I have nursed it in winter the frost has not nipt it ; 
 
 It has blossoms and fruit on it, yellow and green. 
 As her last-living sJirub, I have nourished and kept it, 
 
 And as long as / live, may it live and be seen ! 
 
 THE NAME OF MAltY. 
 
 " I love it I love it and will any one dare" me 
 
 To chide, for loving the sweet name of MARY. 
 
 My mother, she bears it; tis a dear wife s name; 
 
 The name of a sister, and my earliest flame. 
 
 There a grave near my home, it has been there for years, 
 
 Which I frequently visit, and water with tears. 
 
 Do you ask me, why I weep o er the sod 
 
 Of one who reposes in peace with her God? 
 
 A MARY sleeps there I shall never forget her 
 
 The friend of my youth a truer, a better 
 
 Ne er liv d; but she s gone, and I will not complain, 
 
 While others, so like her, on earth yet remain. 
 
 I love it I love it, and will any one dare me 
 
 To chide, for loving the sweet name of MARY.
 
 10 PROMISCUOUS PIECES. 
 
 MY SECOND MARY. 
 
 I wept when she left me, and often weep yet, 
 When I look on the grave where she s sleeping; 
 
 And wrong it may be to shed tears of regret; 
 But I loved her, and cannot help weeping. 
 
 She has left me alone, to seek for content, 
 Through the balance of time yet remaining, 
 
 With a spirit bowed down and happiness rent; 
 But, as man, I submit, uncomplaining. 
 
 I oft smile with the crowd, am light with the gay, 
 And mv countenance indicates gladness ; 
 
 */ o 
 
 Yet that smile is fictitious soon passing away, 
 Succeeded by gloom and by sadness. 
 
 Humanity s bark, through the ocean of Life, 
 Meets with winds and with waves oft contrary;. 
 
 And hard is the blast to sustain, when a wife 
 Is torn from the earth, such as Mary. 
 
 I wept when she left me, and often weep yet, 
 When I look on the grave where she s sleeping; 
 
 And wrong it may be to shed tears of regret, 
 But I lov d her, and cannot help weeping. 
 
 January 20, 1850.
 
 PROMISCUOUS 1 IKCEH, 
 
 LINES TO MY WIFE 
 
 Well, Xancy, my girl, one year has departed, 
 
 Since the knot was tied fast, that holds and can t sJiji! 
 
 And I love thec as well as the day that we started, 
 To travel together on Life s chequered trip. 
 
 They may say what they will bout flowers and roses, 
 That they always smell sweetest when first they are 
 blown ; 
 
 But it s not so with Nancy she s one of i\\Q posies 
 Emitting a fragrance the whole summer long. 
 
 They may talk of sweet lasses, from eighteen to thirty, 
 With their snowy-white bosoms and checks like the rose , 
 
 Yet they re often coquettish, deceitful and flirty, 
 While Nancy gets sweeter the older she grows. 
 
 Tis true, on thy cheeks Time has dug a few ditches, 
 And torn from thy forehead the black shining curls. 
 
 My Nancy can t sing, dance and romp with those witches, 
 But she s worth a whole dozen of giddy young girls. 
 
 Then let us jog on down Life s railroad together, 
 We ve taken our seats in the afternoon train ; 
 
 Let it rain, hail and blow no matter for weather 
 We go Life s excursion, come pleasure or pain.
 
 PROMISCUOUS PIECES. 
 
 And when we ve arrived at tlic Station, at even, 
 And humanity s trip has come to an end 
 
 As we enter the Depot, at the portal of Heaven, 
 
 May we hear the sweet language: faithful servants 
 pass in. 
 
 TO MY WIFE ANN. 
 
 I ve been looking back to boyhood, Ann, 
 When, by the winding stream, 
 
 I walked with thee, but dare not speak 
 Of Love s delicious theme. 
 
 When thy cheeks were like two roses, Ann, 
 Thy skin was white as snow 
 
 When thee was a most charming girl, 
 K"ear forty years ago. 
 
 I ve been thinking of the old house, Ann, 
 
 Where we often used to sit, 
 Along with those we loved so well - 
 
 (And love their memory yet.) 
 
 The grass is growing o er their graves, 
 They ve left this world of woe; 
 
 And though it seems but yesterday, 
 T near forty years ago.
 
 PROMISG UOITS PIECES. 13 
 
 We re growing old together, Ann, 
 
 And, strange as is the past, 
 Near the end of our pilgrimage, 
 
 We re man and wife at last. 
 
 Thus Providence has willed it, Ann, 
 
 And few will ever know, 
 Why we were not made man and wife, 
 
 Near forty years ago. 
 
 In looking round about us, Ann, 
 
 I find that most of those, 
 Who were our old associates, 
 
 Beneath the sod repose. 
 
 Yes! Death has thinned their ranks, dear Ann, 
 
 One by one lay low, 
 Andjfew are left of those we loved, 
 
 Near forty years ago. 
 
 But let us not be gloomy, Ann, 
 
 We ve yet enough to love; 
 Although we ve lost so many friends, 
 
 We trust they dwell above. 
 
 Then let us try to meet them, Ann, 
 
 When Death shall strike the blow, 
 And be prepared, as two dear ones 
 
 Were, forty years ago. t 
 
 February 22, 1853,
 
 14 PROMISCUOUS PIECES. 
 
 LINES 
 
 Occasioned ~by attending the Funeral of a Loved Friend. 
 
 I turned from her grave, with the usual feeling 
 
 Which presides o er the bosom at scenes of the kind, 
 
 And the tear which my pride had a choice in concealing, 
 Gently drops by the spot where her shade was consigned. 
 
 I thought of those moments of social communion, 
 Of enjoyment, improvement, and innocent mirth, 
 
 I had spent in the sweets of reciprocal union, 
 
 With thai form which is now but a clod of the earth. 
 
 Those moments are blighted, the Rose has ceas d blowing, 
 The frost of Mortality nipt the fair stem, 
 
 And those who partook of its fragrance, while glowing, 
 Acknowledge the loss of a favorite Gem. 
 
 - 
 
 Farewell to her shade, and may memory ever 
 
 Keep fresh in my bosom her precepts once given ; 
 
 We are parted on earth, and all flesh must sever, 
 
 Yet Hope sweetly whispers : "Souls meet in Heaven. 
 
 Then adieu to her shade, I ask not her return, 
 For friendships, the firmest, are known oft to vary, 
 
 And perhaps had she lived, no, I never could learn 
 To forget and disclaim the friendship of Mary.
 
 PROMISCUOUS PIECES. If) 
 
 * TEAR. 
 
 IN IMITATION OF HYROX. 
 
 When wo take a fond view, 
 
 And bid those adieu, 
 Whose presence we prize ever dear, 
 
 Pride strives to conceal 
 
 What we inwardly feel, 
 But the eye will betray with a Tear. 
 
 On the pillow of rest 
 
 The moments pass blest 
 In the memory of pleasures sincere ; 
 
 But alas, empty thought, 
 
 They have been, they are not, 
 And their only remains is a Tear.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
 
 MELODY. 
 
 In imitation of Moore s " Nothing true but Heaven." 
 
 This world is but a shifting stage 
 
 A various colored curtain ; 
 The Book of Life, from Youth to Age, 
 Has this inscription on each page: 
 
 There s naught but Death, that s certain. 
 
 Friendship s as rare as happiness, 
 The path through Time s uneven ; 
 And those who search this world for bliss, 
 Will search in vain - tis not in this, 
 And only found in Heaven. 
 
 Poor man surveys the chequer d streaks 
 
 Of Life s delusive Curtain, 
 And thus from sad experience speaks, 
 While tears of woe descend his cheeks, 
 
 There s naught but Death that s certain, 
 
 The glow of Wealth the wreath of Fame 
 
 To man is often given ; 
 But soon he s left with but a name, 
 For " dust returns to dust again," 
 
 And nothing lasts but Heaven. 
 
 1818.
 
 20 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 TO SLEEP. 
 
 Come, welcome, silent and refreshing guest, 
 Spread thy dark veil upon my wearied mind, 
 
 Dis-pel all gloom with which I am opprest, 
 And for a time all care let me resign. 
 
 Shut close the curtains of my heavy sight, 
 
 And bless my spirit with thy soothing power ; 
 
 Yes ! precious visitant, and friend of night, 
 For my past toils grant me one quiet hour. 
 
 Then will I rise, refreshed by thee anew 
 Confess thy kindness, with a grateful mind, 
 
 And cheerfully, again my work pursue 
 
 In joy and peace, and with a will resigned, 
 
 Let no unhappy dreams disturb my breast, 
 Nor let wild fancy paint deceptive pleasure ; 
 
 Ah ! once again, sweet sleep, let me be blest, 
 Thou tranquil friend of darkness and of leisure. 
 
 Sink in oblivion all those bustling cares, 
 Which in my mind so uninvited creep ; 
 
 And draw thyjwburn scenery, which prepares 
 All flesh to taste of thee, sweet gentle sleep,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 21 
 
 ODE TO LOVE. 
 
 Hail soothing power, whose soft endearing sigh. 
 
 Creates emotion in the youthful breast 
 Whose tears flow smoothly from the heavy eye, 
 
 And cause sensations not to be expressed. 
 
 Offspring of Friendship, Eden gave thee birth 
 T was there that mortals first enjoy d thy bliss; 
 
 But oh! alas, sweet seraph of the earth, 
 Thy joys are mingled with unkappiness. 
 
 T is thine, oil Love ! to rouse the tranquil mind 
 From selfish pleasure to describeless pain ; 
 
 To fancy earthly bliss, tis also thine, 
 But often doom d a bitter cup to drain. 
 
 Destructive ^/fflw&s/ oft has the rosy cheek 
 
 Been robb d by thee, of its enchanting bloom ; 
 
 Oft hast thou caused the frantic swain to seek 
 Repose in battle s laurel-covered tomb. 
 
 Oft hast thou made the youthful stripling brave 
 The swelling waters of the " dark blue sea," 
 
 And find, in some retired spot, a grave 
 Far from the land of his nativity.
 
 22 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Then far from me, thou ruling passion, keep 
 Thy swaying power let me never feel ; 
 
 JXVer let thy throbbings in my bosom creep, 
 
 When from sweet H , a smile I chance to steal. 
 
 1815. 
 
 My folly has left me the pang has passed over, 
 For one kind of feelings do not last forever, 
 
 And the throbs which within my bosom did hover, 
 Have departed, and I have forgotten JVo, never ! 
 
 TO PLEASURE. 
 
 Come, sweet animating pleasure, 
 Lovely, smiling, cheerful friend : 
 
 Companion sought in hours of leisure, 
 Again thy blessed influence lend. 
 
 Come, with all thy train attended, 
 Dear Content and blooming Joy ; 
 
 Bliss on Earth, from Heaven descended, 
 Love which cnvv can t annov.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 23 
 
 Come in haste, with rapture greeting, 
 
 Swell my bosom with delight ; 
 Be thou social, not too fleeting, 
 
 Let fruition fill my sight. 
 
 Come, sweet guest, bestow thy power, 
 
 Once again the sail unfurl ; 
 Again let me a precious hour 
 
 Spend with Rosa, lovely girl. 
 
 Come, thou often sought for treasure, 
 
 Make thy smile my pleasing fate ; 
 Hover round, ecstatic pleasure, 
 
 Do thou not procrastinate. 
 
 Make me bid adieu to sorrow, 
 
 Drive all gloom afar away ; 
 Let me taste thy sweets to-morrow, 
 
 As well as airy mirth to-day. 
 
 Time s a pest without thy power 
 
 Life s a waste of gloomy years ; 
 Pleasure fragrant, precious flower, 
 
 Thou art never seen in tears. 
 
 1816.
 
 24 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 TO NARCISSA. 
 
 Since Jiope has departed forever, 
 
 And pleasure lias fled from my view ; 
 
 Since fate lias decreed we must sever, 
 And forced me to bid thee adieu, 
 
 Since fortune has filled me with sorrow,, 
 Since Love unreturned s but a dream, 
 
 I ask, dear Narcissa, to borrow 
 Thy friendship and warmest esteem. 
 
 Since thou art possessed by another,. 
 
 Of love more deserving than me, 
 May forgetfulness teach me to smother 
 
 The flame which I cherished for thee, 
 
 As I pass through this valley of sorrow 
 In search of felicity s gleam, 
 
 I ask, dear Narcissa, to borrow 
 
 Thy friendship and warmest esteem. 
 
 Since frail is mortality s creature, 
 Allured by the bloom of the rose ; 
 
 And the life which is given to nature 
 Is chequered with pleasures and woes. 
 
 Though cloudy to-day, yet to-morrow 
 The sun may enchantingly beam, 
 
 And I, dear Ts"arcissa, may borrow 
 Thy friendship and warmest esteem.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 25 
 
 MOMENTS SPENT WITH THOSE I LOVE." 
 
 Awake my muse, once more thy aid I ask 
 Tune thy soft lyre, perform the pleasing task ; 
 Yes ! lovely power, thy precious help bestow, 
 And let my breast again with transport glow ; 
 Compose my mind, and let my fancy rove 
 Back to the moments spent with those I Love. 
 
 Blest moments past alas ! forever gone 
 
 Yet oft in memory your delights return ; 
 
 Oft when I ve strayed along the winding stream,. 
 
 Where Friendship s pure and animating theme 
 
 Has made my heart with soft emotions move, 
 
 I ve thought of moments spent with those I Love. 
 
 Departed hours, to recollection sweet, 
 How oft have I, on some sequestered seat, 
 Retraced your joys reviewed your transient bliss, 
 And felt the precious thrills of happiness ; 
 Then oh ! my muse, again let fancy rove 
 Back to the moments spent with those I Love. 
 
 Dear to my heart are hours of leisure spent 
 
 With those whom Heaven the charms of earth hath lent 
 
 Yea ! dear are thoughts extended towards those 
 
 For whom my breast with tender passion glows ; 
 
 Then oh ! my muse, again let fancy rove 
 
 Back to the moments spent with those I Love.-
 
 26 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Twas the season of Spring, when green tinged the forests, 
 And the face of the landscape looked smiling and gay ; 
 
 The feathered musicians were heard on the branches, 
 With sweetness and melody chanting their lay. 
 
 The breezes were calm, pure, light and refreshing, 
 The welkin was clear not a cloud dimm d the scene; 
 
 Creation seemed cheerful, each prospect looked pleasant, 
 And nature s gay aspect was bright and serene, 
 
 The streams were all full, transparent as crystal, 
 
 And smooth were their ebbings, in murmurings low ; 
 
 The meadows smelt sweet from flowers new opening, 
 And green vegetation gan richly to grow. 
 
 Yes ! such was the time, when filled with reflections, 
 Touch d with the sublime, and impressively sweet, 
 
 My wandering muse, at the foot of Parnassus, 
 Asked awhile the permission of taking a seat. 
 
 Indulgence was granted, and oh ! how delighted 
 
 My muse seemed to dwell on the rude scenes around ; 
 
 It was eve, and the western horizon was skirted 
 With the rich glaring color of gold to the ground. 
 
 A few twinkling stars sparkled bright in the heavens, 
 But night s "silver queen" was conceal d from the sight; 
 
 The curtain of darkness around was fast falling, 
 And the galaxy showed in its beautiful white.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 27 
 
 T was thus to the breeze, in wild raptures of gladness, 
 My waywardly muse in deep cadence sung : 
 
 Sweet Spring, how delightful, how dear is thy season, 
 When the face of creation looks blooming and young. 
 
 Tho the hills and the valleys have grass for their cov ring, 
 And the trees and the meadows are blooming around ; 
 
 Yet soon will the aspect of Earth change its color, 
 And the leaves of the forest fall pale to the ground, 
 
 Yes ! Winter will come, with its fierce whistling tempests, 
 And bare will the boughs of the wild-wood appear ; 
 
 The snows w r ill descend on each valley and mountain, 
 And beauty will close its romantic career. 
 
 The streams will be shut by the cold chilling weather, 
 And the birds wing their w r ay to a warm sunny clime ; 
 
 The trav ler will seek hospitality s shelter, 
 His cold wearied limbs to refresh for a while. 
 
 Alas ! man may live thro Life s Spring time and Summer, 
 And enjoy each dear scene that appears to his eyes ; 
 
 He may live the fruits of his autumn to gather, 
 But oh ! too certain, in winter he dies. 
 
 1816.
 
 28 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 THE LARK S NEST. 
 
 T was morn, and the leaves of the Ease were all wet ; 
 
 From its bush the notes of the Lark issued sweet, 
 Till my nearer approach made her leave with regret 
 
 Her lonely, sequestered and thorny retreat. 
 
 I drew near the bush, and extended my arm 
 To the twig that upheld the delicate treasure ; 
 
 But alas ! my fingers were pricked by the thorn, 
 And pain for a moment diminished my pleasure. 
 
 Resolved to obtain it, I bent the bush down 
 
 Pluck d the rose, and was going to leave the damp lay, 
 
 When under the bush I espied on the ground 
 The nest of the Lark, that had just flown away. 
 
 It was inlaid with down, composed of dead grass, 
 O er its top a branch of the Eglantine hung ; 
 
 To the root of the bush it was neatly made fast, 
 And in it, unfeathered, were three of her young. 
 
 June, 1815.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 29 
 
 REFLECTIONS OJV THE DEATH OF A 
 FATHER, 
 
 Through weary life this lessoa learn, 
 
 That maa, alas ! was made to mourn." BURNS, 
 
 My theme s a sad one, for my heart is full, 
 An unexpected blow has marred my bliss, 
 And clothed my mind with sorrow . 
 
 My Father 
 
 Yes ! my Father : I shall see thy face no more 
 Thy days are numbered, and thy tomb is closed ; 
 Thy never dying part the soul has made Its exit 
 From this house of clay, and found an everlasting 
 Home, (I trust) ia 
 
 Ah ! how uncertain is Lifers pilgrimage 
 How unexpected oft it terminates ; 
 Mournful reality melancholy shock ! 
 But yesterday a father, now a prey for worms. 
 
 Oh, Death ! tkou art a monster, without match ; 
 A rapacious glutton without parallel ; 
 Devouring all insatiable thy fill ; 
 Forever breaking loose the tenderest ties 
 Of Husband, Father, Wife and dearest friends. 
 Survey the wall d enclosure there behold 
 Thy many meals, at different periods, 
 Arranged in rows sad, sickening spectacle ; 
 Sometimes the lud, at other times the blossom,
 
 30 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 And frequently (as now) the parent stem. 
 Oh ! cruel Death unwelcome visitant 
 Thy shaft hast fallen, alas ! to ruin peace ; 
 The best of mothers s now a weeping widow ; 
 Her children orphans in this "teary vale." 
 
 I, a new vessel on Life s stormy ocean, 
 
 Have sail d awhile beside my native coast ; 
 
 But now I leave the shore, with much emotion, 
 Perchance to wreck, with helm and anchor lost. 
 
 Should storms o ertake me, or should tempest gather, 
 I may be lost, or cast on some waste strand ; 
 
 Oh ! Thou who took to Thee my earthly Father, 
 Look down, I pray, and lend Thy helping hand. 
 
 Conduct my Bark, and let me not be driven 
 Amid the swells of Life s tempestuous sea ; 
 
 But steer me safely to thy port in Heaven, 
 And moor me there to all eternity. 
 
 Ah ! cease to steal, ye tears, adown my cheeks, 
 And thou, poor aching heart, suspend thy pain 
 Within my troubled breast. Ye deep drawn sighs 
 Depart your sounds renewing grief, and give 
 A melancholy cast to all my mien. Ye thoughts, 
 Congenial with my bosom s feelings, 
 Turn your attention from his sepulchre, 
 And take a retrospective view of Time. 
 In Time s true registry behold, alas!
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 31 
 
 The entries of Conduct toward a Father. 
 
 How different how altered now s the view 
 From that when taken as he journied here ; 
 Acts which were then approved are now condemned ; 
 And admonitions which were then rejected 
 Are estimated now, now, at sterling value. 
 
 My Father, 
 
 When with watchful eye and tender guardian care, 
 Thou pointed out to me the snares of youth, 
 And with a steady hand conducted safe 
 My infant steps along the craggy steeps 
 Of childhood s slippery way, I thanked thee not, 
 For then I knew not thy paternal care ; 
 But now I see, I thank thee and acknowledge 
 Alas ! acknowledge when thy tomb is clos d. 
 
 My Father, 
 
 When childhood s rough and tedious path was traveled, 
 And I was ushered on the stage of manhood, 
 Amidst Life s whirlpools and surrounding evils, 
 (The time from which ten thousands date their ruin,) 
 Twas thee who pointed out to me the dangers, 
 And show d the way my Bark might glide with safety, 
 For which I thank thee thank thee, and acknowledge, 
 Alas ! acknowledge when thy tomb is closed. 
 
 Farewell, my Father ; earth is now thy pillow, 
 And thy dear spirit smiles, I trust, on high ; 
 
 Thy son remains on Life s tempestuous billows, 
 A candidate for bliss in immortality. 
 
 December 10, 1818.
 
 32 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, 
 
 TO THE MUMPS. 
 
 Cnwefeome stranger, must this form submit 
 
 To pains like thine, ill-suited and ill-placed ? 
 
 It must ; and I must be affliction s child. 
 
 These swollen jaws and aching head, 
 
 Debilitated frame and pallid cheek 
 
 Ill-suited are to me, whose look was health ; 
 
 But Fate decreed it so, and 1 submit. 
 
 Vile intruder, how foolish to solicit 
 
 The love of one who absolutely hates thcc ; 
 
 Thy frowning brow, and heavy, haggard look, 
 
 To every healthy form, is most repulsive. 
 
 How did st thou dare, at midnight s noiseless hour. 
 
 When all my senses were consigned to sleep, 
 
 And every member clothed in drowsy lassitude, 
 
 To enter and disturb my quiet dwelling ? 
 
 Didst thou expect to gain my warmest friendship, 
 
 Thou base annoyer of my peaceful home ? 
 
 T is true thou hast possession of these clayey walls. 
 
 But never while the breath remains within me, 
 
 Can I consent to be thy bosom friend. 
 
 Then leave me, for I hate thy melancholy look, 
 
 Unpleasant features and excruciating pains. 
 
 1817.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 33 
 
 TO HEALTH. 
 
 Come, Health ! thou wert my earliest, dearest friend ; 
 
 Thy ruddy hue expanded on my cheek, 
 
 And hailed each season with a smile of joy ; 
 
 The fragrant breath of Spring was sweet and pleasant ; 
 
 Summer s thick shade refreshed each languid member ;, 
 
 Autumn s choice fruits appeased the calls of hunger, 
 
 And Winter s gambols closed the year with mirth, 
 
 With gratitude and cheer. 
 
 And wilt thou leave me wilt thou let disease 
 
 Destroy the dwelling thou so long possessed, 
 
 And let its walls decay and fall to dust ? 
 
 Inconstant friend too tickle to be trusted ; 
 Alarmed at every fever every trifling pain ; 
 And shall I call thee coward ? True, thou art, 
 For I have known thee dwell, for years, in quiet peace,. 
 Unmolested by any human indisposition. 
 Disease at length appeared, and thy too fickle form 
 Fled from its hovel, nor dared to make its claim ; 
 Yet thou art sometimes faithful I have known thee slay 
 The emaciated looking fiend, 
 And drive him quickly from thy blest domain ; 
 Then drive him far from me ; or is thy lease expired ? 
 If so, where, where for refuge can this spirit fly, 
 Which never knew Religion s mild and Heavenly ray? 
 Return, sweet Health, for sure I ne er offended ;
 
 34 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Thy animated face and rosy, cheerful looks, 
 
 Thy manners are more pleasing, much more gay 
 
 Than thy ill-favored rival s. I had much rather 
 
 Spend my days with thee in penury s low cot 
 
 Than dwell with pale Disease in pomp and splendor 
 
 crowned; 
 But, patient, I submit, and wait thy quick return. 
 
 April 17, 1817. 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 There is a charm in woman s face, 
 A lucid brilliance in her eye ; 
 
 And in her speech there is a grace, 
 An ease and air of modesty ; 
 But oh ! in woman s smile so sweet 
 Does often lurk the fiend deceit. 
 
 Sweet is the rose on woman s cheek 
 Warm is the fire of woman s love, 
 
 And woman s vows are fair, though else 
 They often false and fickle prove ; 
 When beauty speaks and smiles in glee, 
 Beware beware of coquetry.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 35 
 
 LINES 
 
 On the Death of Mary Land-is, who departed this Life 
 January 2d, 1816. 
 
 At the dread summons, she resigned her breath, 
 And closed her eyes in sleep " the sleep of Death ;" 
 Pier pious soul, devoid of sinful fears, 
 Took its long exit from this " vale of tears" 
 Her lovely form, in youth s enchanting bloom, 
 Sank, much regretted, in an early tomb. 
 
 Yes ! Mary, thou art gone, my much loved friend ; 
 
 Thy race is run, thy journey s at an end ; 
 
 Thy sun is set, before meridian day, 
 
 To rise no more, save in eternity. 
 
 Yes ! thou hast gone and left the ties of earth, 
 
 A loving husband, she that gave thee birth, 
 
 A numerous kindred, friends that were sincere, 
 
 And all, alas ! which made existence dear. 
 
 Perhaps tis best; then weep not for the dead, 
 But for the living let your tears be shed ; 
 The dead are gone to meet a gracious Lord, 
 And reap for earthly works a just reward ; 
 But those who live in sin and wretchedness 
 Call loud for tears yea, tears of deep distress.
 
 36 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Weep not for her whose life was innocence, 
 Whose pathway virtue, and whose language sense ; 
 Dry up those tears, and let your sorrow cease, 
 Xo longer mourn, for Mary sleeps in peace. 
 
 May we who yet retain the living breath 
 
 " Be also ready" and prepared for death. 
 
 The youthful, aged, witty and the gay, 
 
 At thy command, oh Death ! must all obey ; 
 
 None are exempt, but all that yet remain 
 
 Will soon return to earth, from whence we came ; 
 
 And as the body to the grave is given, 
 
 The soul seeks refuge with its (rod in Heaven. 
 
 January 5, 1816. 
 
 THE SMILE, 
 
 There was a smile but, oh ! forgive ; 
 
 I feel no more its pleasing sway ; 
 Beauty s a flower which cannot live 
 
 It withers, dies, and fades aw r ay. 
 
 There w r as a smile, by me once known ; 
 
 But now I trace its altered features ; 
 T is changed, alas ! t is now a frown, 
 
 Eliza, we are fickle creatures.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 37 
 
 THE SEASONS. 
 
 Each season has its peculiar charm. 
 
 How pleasant to sit by the clear running fountain, 
 When the sweet vernal breeze fans the face of creation ; 
 
 When music is heard from the valley and mountain, 
 And the landscape in bloom gives the scene animation. 
 
 How pleasant to sit neath the green shady bower, 
 When Summer arrives, and behold things maturing ; 
 
 When Sol shines aloft with resplendence and power, 
 And mortals their stores are for winter procuring. 
 
 How pleasant to sit in the midst of the wild-wood, 
 When Autumn s ripe scenes are so rich and inspiring, 
 
 By the side of & friend we Ve loved from our childhood, 
 When solitude s beauties are swiftly retiring. 
 
 How pleasant to sit by the hot blazing fire, 
 
 When keen blows the wind, so cold and so chilling, 
 
 When Winter s bleak snows fill the tempest with ire, 
 And rivers and streams are all chilled or arc chilling. 
 
 1818.
 
 38 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 RURAL STANZAS. 
 
 A SCENE OX THE BRAXDYWIXE. 
 
 Here rocks and hills and variegated trees 
 Form d a romantic and delightful scene ; 
 
 Here music floated on the scented breeze, 
 And rustic nature sweetly smiled serene. 
 
 Here distant cascades sounded on the ear, 
 And shelving steeps gave pleasure to the eye ; 
 
 Pierian fountains secm d to issue here, 
 
 And proud Parnassus reared its summit high. 
 
 Here, oh! my muse, I touched thy simple shell, 
 And wildly breath d a rude and artless strain ; 
 
 Here, inspiration, did I feel thy swell, 
 And gazed on scenes scenes ne er again. 
 
 Here, I exclaimed in rapture s burning tone, 
 Could I enjoy the presence of the " Fair" 
 
 For here t is lovely, e en to be alone 
 
 T would be delicious if a friend could share.
 
 ODES TO NESHAMINY.
 
 NO. I. 
 
 Sweet stream, I love to walk thy shore, 
 And trace thy gently winding ways ; 
 
 To hear thy soothing waters roar, 
 
 When evening all thy grace displays, 
 
 I love to sit me down and think, 
 Beneath some old majestic tree, 
 
 That borders on thy grass-grown brink, 
 And spreads its branches wide and free. 
 
 Yes ! when the sun, with feeble beams, 
 Half sunk beneath the gilded west, 
 
 Spreads out his latest golden gleams 
 To give the w r eary wand rer rest. 
 
 When all the toils of day are o er, 
 
 And naught is felt but peace and love, 
 
 Then, then tis sweet to hear thy roar, 
 In concert with the mourning Dove, 
 
 Who, on some dead and barklcss limb 
 That overhangs thy wayward course, 
 
 Is mourning for the loss of him 
 
 The sportsman from her side did force.
 
 42 ODES TO NESHAMIXY. 
 
 At such an hour I often rove, 
 
 When summer fills the air with heat ; 
 
 Ah ! such an hour sure all must love, 
 Sure all must own such prospects sweet. 
 
 Then may thy source continue long, 
 And may the muse enjoy thy shore ; 
 
 May every harp repeat thy song, 
 Now, henceforth, forevermore. 
 
 May, 1813. 
 
 JVO. II. 
 [BYRONIC MEASURE.] 
 
 Know ye the spot w r here the Maple and Willow 
 Rudely mingle their branches and wave with the breeze, 
 
 Where the moss-covered rock forms a seat and a pillow, 
 To woo meditation alone and at ease ; 
 
 Where Neshaminy s current glides smoothly along, 
 And the roar of its waters sound soft to the ear ; 
 
 Where is heard from afar the whip-poor-will s song, 
 At the close of the day in the spring of the year.
 
 ODES TO XESHAMINY. 43 
 
 Know ye the spot where the rose and the brier 
 In the same lovely valley are seen with delight, 
 
 Where a soul fond of solitude loves to retire 
 
 When the All-Seeing Eye draws the curtain of night. 
 
 T is the spot of contentment, the bower of ease, 
 
 Situated far distant from riot ; 
 T is the place of resort for a lover of peace 
 
 To muse in poetical quiet. 
 
 May, 1814. 
 
 NO. III. 
 
 The sun has just sunk in the west, 
 The toils of the day are all o er ; 
 
 Alone and in silence I rest 
 
 On the grass of Neshaminy s shore. 
 
 The night hawk is heard on his wings, 
 Conceal d by the darkness from sight ; 
 
 And the katy-did ceaselessly sings 
 Her thanks to the coming of night.
 
 44 ODES TO NESHAMINY. 
 
 The robin has finished his lay 
 
 He sang till the ether turned pale, 
 
 Then, warn d of the parting of day, 
 He flew to the thick bushy dale. 
 
 Adieu ! then, sweet bird of the lawn, 
 Repose thy head under thy wing ; 
 
 Rest calmly in silence till morn, 
 Then soar o er the valley and sing. 
 
 K"ow murmur the waters below, 
 With a melody soft to the ear ; 
 
 The moon is beginning to glow, 
 
 And the stars in dim splendor appear. 
 
 Sweet thoughts in my bosom arise, 
 From reasons too clear to explain ; 
 
 T is said that " a word to the wise 
 
 Is enough/ Eliza, we ll meet here again. 
 
 August.
 
 ODES TO NESIIAMINY. 45 
 
 NO. rv. 
 
 THE EVENING WALK. 
 
 I took her with me, but came home alone. 
 
 Just fmish d had the sun his daily round, 
 
 And sober twilight clothed the welcome scene ; 
 
 With crossing frogs the marshes did resound, 
 And nature s face was pleasant and serene. 
 
 Fatigued w r ith labor through the busy day, 
 
 And always partial to fond friendship s theme, 
 
 I, with Eliza, gently took my w r ay 
 
 Along JSTeshaminy s smoothly winding stream. 
 
 Sweet blew the breezes as we roved along 
 
 W T here birch and willow formed a lovely grove ; 
 
 Our cars were greeted with the night-bird s song 
 Which floated through the air and echo d " Love 1 
 
 Pale Cynthia, in the east, unveiled her face, 
 
 And faint reflected through the branching trees ; 
 
 And dews of night descended round the place, 
 And naught was felt, save harmony and peace.
 
 40 ODES TO NESHAMINY. 
 
 Tints, on a rock projecting o er the stream, 
 Eliza raised her soft, enchanting voice, 
 
 That voice which wakes from "love s delicious dream," 
 And makes with ecstacy the soul rejoice. 
 
 These are thy gifts, Great Author of all good, 
 This lovely grove with all its charms arc thine ; 
 
 Thy gracious hand profusely here hath strew d 
 The marks of skill and workmanship Divine. 
 
 Enchanting spot, full many an eve like this, 
 When social conversation wing d the hour, 
 
 Have I enjoyed the greatest earthly bliss 
 Beneath thy cooling and refreshing bower. 
 
 And I, Eliza, frequently have felt, 
 
 When sitting ncath yon aged spreading tree, 
 
 Close by thy side, my heart almost to melt, 
 And oft have said, " tis good to be with thee" 
 
 The rose s hue diffused her lovely face, 
 
 From off the rock she quickly turn d away ; 
 
 " Why leave so soon," said I, "this charming place?" 
 " I cannot bear," she answered, " flattery." 
 
 With rapid steps she hastened from my view ; 
 
 I called, but no, her speed did not abate ; 
 Not even time had I to say adieu, 
 
 But left alone to muse and meditate. 
 
 May, 1315.
 
 ODES TO NESHAMIXY. 47 
 
 NO. V. 
 
 KETKOSPECTIVE STAXZAS. 
 
 How sweet pass d the days when in boyhood I wander d 
 On Neshaminy s margin, and viewed the wild scene ; 
 
 When alone and contented I silently ponder d, 
 And partook of enjoyments the highest terrene. 
 
 When away to my trap in the morning I scamper d, 
 With my dog and my gun and a heart at its ease, 
 
 And found the poor muskrat entangled and hampcr d, 
 I cheerfully whistled aloud to the breeze. 
 
 When seated beneath some old wide spreading willow, 
 I baited my hook, cast it forth in the stream ; 
 
 Or perchance, with some moss-cover d rock for a pillow, 
 I sank to repose, and serene was my dream. 
 
 Or when in the grove I in ecstacy harken d 
 To the roar of the cascade, though distant afar, 
 
 And mused till the curtain of twilight had darkened 
 The scene, and illumed the " bright polar star." 
 
 Sweet days, you are past yea ! departed forever ; 
 
 Your innocent sports are consigned to the tomb ; 
 Yet memory will value you precious, and ever 
 
 Regret that your happiness ended so soon. 
 
 June, 1816.
 
 48 OJ)ES TO NESHAM1NY. 
 
 TO ELIZA. 
 
 Eliza, clear girl, the pang has past over, 
 
 For one kind of feelings do not last forever ; 
 
 And the throbs which around my bosom did hover 
 Have left me, and I have forgotten no, never. 
 
 Yet, Eliza, when a form so fair 
 Again requests my artless strain, 
 
 My harp assumes the gentle air 
 Of acquiescence, and would fain, 
 Though weak the muse s power, entertain. 
 
 Then let me tune thy mellow string, 
 Thou cheerful harp of mine, and oh ! 
 
 So light and careless let me sing, 
 
 That she who hears the sound may know 
 Thy tunes with some degree of ease can flow. 
 
 But, oh ! my harp, tis not for thee 
 
 To soothe the learned, the wise, the gay ; 
 
 They 11 little heed, and tliou and me 
 Will soon together silent lay 
 Where dark oblivion holds his gloomy sway.
 
 ODES TO NESHAMINY. 4i) 
 
 Yet thou canst charm the weary hour, 
 
 Beguile the tedious time away ; 
 The rustic wight can own thy power, 
 
 And listen to thy sylvan lay 
 
 When Luna spreads her silver luster d ray. 
 
 Then thou, my friend, be not severe ; 
 
 Regard my theme, respect my name ; 
 Eliza, friends that are sincere 
 Friends that each other do revere, 
 
 Should ne er each other s feelings maim. 
 
 April, 1817.
 
 BOYHOOD SCRIBBLINGS.
 
 TO 
 
 Upon her requesting me to make her some Poetry. 
 
 With a Lady s request I love to comply, 
 
 When it is in my power to do it ; 
 But with the present I feel rather shy, 
 
 For fear (some time hence) I may rue it. 
 
 Can a form so majestic as thine, lovely Jane, 
 And a mind so enlightened and clever, 
 
 Expose to the world this poetical strain ? 
 I am almost persuaded no, never. 
 
 Then here s to the girl oh ! may she live long, 
 And as long as she lives may I love her ; 
 
 May she cherish for me a passion as strong, 
 And around us may happiness hover. 
 
 May our morning of bliss commence with a smile, 
 And increase with Aurora in power ; 
 
 At eve be prepared with a countenance mild 
 To welcome the sun-setting hour. 
 
 To Heaven, oh then, may our spirits take wing, 
 There with angels and seraphs forever, 
 
 In concert aloud hallelujahs to sing, 
 Never more from each other to sever. 
 
 1815.
 
 54 JJOYllOOD SCKIUBLINGS. 
 
 ACROSTIC NO. 1. 
 
 II. Health to the check that remains yet unfaded, 
 
 A. And peace to the heart by soft sympathy shaded ; 
 
 N. No longer, dear girl, let thy angelic mildness, 
 
 N. Nor thy ease of expression, cheerfulness, wildness, 
 
 A. Allure the beholder to regions of wonder, 
 
 II. Harshly tearing the heart and body asunder. 
 
 S. Shut, too, those eyelids in mild condescension ; 
 
 T. That tongue lock in silence, which heard, claims 
 
 attention ; 
 
 O. Oh ! cease to bewilder with charms unaffected ; 
 
 R. Recollect, loye, mildness and- virtue connected, 
 
 Y. Youth, bcaufy and sweetness are thieves unsuspected. 
 
 1815.
 
 BOYHOOD SCRIBBLINGS. 55 
 
 ACROSTIC JVO. IL 
 
 M. Mild as the breeze that /a/as the blushing rose, 
 
 I. Infusing fragrance o er Vallonia s grove ; 
 
 S. Sincere thy heart, in which at rest repose 
 
 S. Sympathy, benevolence, innocence and love. 
 
 M. May peace the purest, unalloy d by tears, 
 
 A. Attend thy pilgrimage through passing time ; 
 
 E. Religion gild with happiness thy years 
 
 Y. Yea, raise thy thoughts from earth to themes sublime. 
 
 M. My valued friend, I feel as thus I speak 
 
 A. All that a friend is privileged to feel 
 
 E. Respect, regard, esteem. Yet man is weak ; 
 
 T. Too often friendships prove to be ideal. 
 
 I. I oft have known false friendship s flashy blaze 
 
 N. Neglected, die, and scandal follow praise. 
 
 Fourth mo., 1819.
 
 BOYHOOIJ SCRIBBLIXGS. 
 
 ACROSTIC NO. III. 
 
 S. Sound soft my harp, and let thy strains be clear, 
 
 A. A noble theme now o er thy chords is stealing ; 
 
 JR. Record the worth of one one who feels near 
 
 A. And dear to every secret inward feeling. 
 
 H. Health s lovely blossoms on her cheeks are blooming : 
 
 N. No gloomy shadow clouds her charming face ; 
 
 E. Ease of deportment, manners unassuming, 
 
 W. With every acquisition that can grace ; 
 
 S. Brilliant in mind ; a heart, could I but gain it, 
 
 0. Oh how delightful could I pass existence. 
 
 L. Love, give thy aid, assist me to obtain it ; 
 
 D. Divide us not by absence nor by distance, 
 
 Fourth-mo., 1819. 

 
 BOYHOOD SCKIBBLIXGS. 57 
 
 Well, thou art gone, and I am left 
 To gaze on features less engaging ; 
 
 And while, dear girl, of thee bereft, 
 May I forget this inward raging. 
 
 Ah ! hadst thou stayed, perchance, if ever, 
 This fickle heart had all been thine ; 
 
 But thanks, thou didst not wholly sever, 
 A portion yet continues mine. 
 
 I own I felt thee daily nearer 
 
 Thy form was fair, thy mind improved ; 
 
 Each visit made thee dearer, dearer, 
 
 And hadst thou stayed, I should have loved. 
 
 When late I took my parting view, 
 
 Thy charming hue did richly grace thee ; 
 
 I prcss d thy hand, I bade adieu, 
 
 But oh ! I did not dare embrace thcc. 
 
 Could I but win, alas ! forgive me 
 (Thy worth deserves a nobler swain), 
 
 All that I ask, dear girl, believe me, 
 Is to return my Heart again. 
 
 June, 181().
 
 58 BOYHOOD SCRIBBLINGS. 
 
 TO HANNAH. 
 
 I own thy interesting features 
 
 Created a describcless feeling ; 
 But oh ! such fascinating creatures 
 
 Pass with impunity for stealing. 
 
 When late I took my last good-bye, 
 
 Oh ! Girl, I felt in such a manner, 
 That hadst thou seen my swimming eye 
 
 It would have mov d thec, lovely Hannah. 
 
 :i; :js s}l $ * $ % :fc ^ 
 
 Should fate prove unfortunate, time may extinguish 
 The flame which now burns in darkness unfriended ; 
 
 But while there is Hope I will never relinquish 
 The One to whom earliest love was extended. 
 
 Oh ! could I but gain thy warmest affections, 
 And see thy dear image smile on me propitious, 
 
 How soon would these dark agonizing reflections 
 Be changed in my bosom to feelings delicious. 
 
 How quick couldst thou move this suspense from before 
 me 
 
 One sound from thy soft lips could seal the decree ; 
 I then would forget, or forever adore thee, 
 
 With sorrow or bliss, in the highest degree. 
 
 1817.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES.
 
 TO A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. 
 
 There s something in that face of thine 
 
 That s fairer far than human, 
 Those Eyes with Heavenly lustre shine, 
 Those Locks with so much rudeness twine, 
 Thou seemst to be a form divine, 
 Sweet, interesting Woman. 
 
 The music of thy mellow tongue 
 
 Is sweeter far than human, 
 For such the ancient minstrel sung, 
 When Israel s Harp he gently strung, 
 And o er the land of Judah rung- 
 Melodious sounds sweet Woman. 
 
 The cultivation of thy mind 
 
 Is higher tar than human, 
 For each production is refined 
 Each act with prudence is combined, 
 And yet with all these treasures join d 
 
 Thou art, alas ! but Woman. 
 
 And can I hope to be possessed 
 Of one that s more than human ; 
 
 Oh ! Fortune smile and make me bless d, . 
 
 Grant, I entreat, this one request 
 
 (Which, save to thee, I ne er express d,) 
 The love of this sweet Woman,
 
 POETRY AX I) RHYMES. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 In imitation of " Bendemerc s Stream. MOORE. 
 
 There T s a "wild shady seat on Xeshaminy s shore, 
 
 And the Dove and the Whip-poor-will sing round its 
 
 bower ; 
 There music so soft, and the waves gentle roar. 
 
 Make the spot ever welcome to spend the sweet hour. 
 That seat and those waters I shall ever hold dear, 
 
 For as oft as I see them my heart thrills with pleasure; 
 In the days of my childhood how sweet passed the year, 
 
 As I carelessly sang, sat, or walked at my leisure. 
 
 But those days are departed, and fled like a dream, 
 
 And the " wild shady seat " I have left with regret ; 
 Yet oft, though afar from my dear native stream, 
 
 I think is the whip-poor-will singing there yet. 
 Yes, the dove and the whip-poor-will oft raise their tone, 
 
 And the stream without ceasing continues to roar ; 
 Recollection still fresh, of delights that are flown, 
 
 Partook from that seat on JSTeshaminy s shore.
 
 POETHY AND RHYMES. 63 
 
 TO 
 
 Scorn not the Rustic Bard, engaging S 
 Nor yet despise the candor of his lays; 
 
 Unknown to polish and refined address, 
 The child of nature in her rudest ways. 
 
 He never roved Pernassian shades beneath, 
 Nor wandered where Pierian fountains flow ; 
 
 For him no muses twine their laurel wreath, 
 Nor shed their halo round his rustic brow. 
 
 Yet, in his bosom, peace was sweetly felt, 
 And social pleasure often cheered his way ; 
 
 But now, alas ! where calm fruition dwelt, 
 No more is known thy bliss, Tranquility. 
 
 Ask not the cause why melancholy throws 
 
 Her gloomy shadows o er his pensive features. 
 But rather prove a soother to his w^oes, 
 
 Thou most engaging of bewitching creatures. 
 
 1819.
 
 (34 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 EFFUSIONS OF FEELING. 
 
 TO ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS THEM 
 
 Chang d is the scene the vision s fled ; 
 
 The hope I once possess d is clouded ; 
 Early matured, and early dead, 
 
 In sorrow sunk, in darkness shrouded. 
 
 Gone is that doubt, suspense no more 
 
 Pervades the breast by peace once shaded ; 
 
 Pleasure s soft breeze has quick passed o er, 
 Its fragrance gone, its beauties faded. 
 
 Too soon, alas ! my bosom feels 
 
 The shafts of woe, the griefs of folly ; 
 
 Ideal bliss too soon reveals 
 Its real name in melancholy. 
 
 Oh ! memory thou art only dear 
 
 To those who view past joys with gladness ; 
 To me thou art a pain severe, 
 
 A source of secret inward sadness. 
 
 Oh, H :! .....:..;.h, could I but forget 
 
 I e er had seen I e er had mov d thee ; 
 
 Could I but think we ne er had met, 
 Enough I do esteem, but cannot love thee.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 1 will respect respect how cold ; 
 
 I can esteem esteem, but never, 
 Xever can I (my muse withhold,} 
 
 Fate has decreed that we must sever. 
 
 Then, fare-thee-well, once charming S 
 May one more worthy meet thy view 
 
 Dear girl, had I but loved thee less, 
 Forgive my weakness. Oh ! adieu. 
 
 May 20, 1819. 
 
 Forget the past to err is human; 
 
 A friendship pure I trust was mine ; 
 One of the loveliest traits in woman 
 
 Is to forgive, it is Divine.
 
 G(J POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 TO EMMA. 
 
 As I passed through the valley and seated me down 
 
 Xeath the shade of a wide-spreading hollow beech tree, 
 I turn d to those pleasures, so recently flown, 
 
 Partook with thy sister, dear Emma, and thee. 
 
 i 
 
 And such was the power which fancy possessed, 
 As I pictured in thought the reality clearly, 
 
 I could scarcely determine whether most blest 
 When with those or from those I value sincerely. 
 
 For moments of thought in retired seclusion, 
 
 Where nature spreads rudely her picturesque features, 
 
 Are so sweet that I seldom suspect the delusion, 
 And forget I am far from those angelic creatures. 
 
 To converse with and gaze upon those I respect, 
 Affords me much pure and delightful enjoyment; 
 
 But I often admit that to sit and reflect 
 
 Is far the most lucrative, useful employment. 
 
 For boundless the Umifs of Fancy s dominion, 
 I can scan what has pass d, and figure new bliss ; 
 
 But, conversing, I frequently give an opinion 
 For the sake of a sound, and occasion distress.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 67 
 
 It was night, and the zephyr came fresh from the wave, 
 The candles of Heaven shone brilliantly o er me ; 
 
 Xot a sound to break nature s tranquility save 
 
 Xeshaminy s stream which meandered before me, 
 
 As I passed through the valley and seated me down 
 jNeath the shade of a wide-spreading hollow beech tree, 
 
 And turned to those pleasures, so recently flown, 
 Partook with thy sister, dear Emma, and thee. 
 
 June, 1820. 
 
 THE BARD 8 PETITION. 
 
 A PARODY. 
 
 Pity the troubles of a nice young man, 
 
 Whose horse and gig had borne him to that shore 
 Blest clime, much famed for Ladies, cheese and sand, 
 
 Beef, porJc, potatoes, marl and iron ore. * 
 
 His pensive cast his inward thoughts bespeak ; 
 
 His heavy eyes, in tears, proclaim his woes ; 
 And mark the red, which lately cloth d his cheek, 
 
 Has took its residence upon his nose. 
 
 * State of New Jersey.
 
 08 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 Yon large white house, which overlooks the scene, 
 Fair scene, but one a pencil never drew ; 
 
 Where pine and cedar wave in evergreen, 
 And ten-rail fences terminate the view. 
 
 That stately pile, whose lovely daughters drew 
 His weary footsteps from the public road. 
 
 Afforded shelter for a time ; but, oh ! 
 
 Too short his shelter in the grand abode. 
 
 c^ 
 
 Poor, wretched youth, hard was his adverse fate ; 
 
 Ere he had asked to claim the fair one s hand, 
 Ungenerous girl, she drove him from the gate 
 
 To seek a dwelling on his native strand.* 
 
 Sharp was his grief, and piercing was his woe 
 As ever touched a human mortal s breast, 
 
 And did his friends his sufferings half know, 
 Their tears of pity could not be repressed. 
 
 Heaven sends misfortunes, why should he repine ? 
 
 It was his hard lot before he asked to stay ; 
 He got no dinner, supper, cake or wine, 
 
 Sad recollection, to be driven away, 
 
 Pity the troubles of a nice young man, 
 
 Whose horse and gig had borne him to that shore- 
 Blest clime, much fam d for Ladies, cheese and sand, 
 
 Beef, pork, potatoes, marl and iron ore. 
 
 October, 1819. 
 * Pennsylvania.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 60 
 
 TO SUSAJV. 
 
 As my friend Susan has such a sad opinion of " CARE," that " it will 
 dim the brightest eye," " wither every rose on beauty s cheek," " give a 
 sad tone to voices of gladness," " destroy our love for our early haunts 
 and enjoyments," and finally " makes the youthful heart find an early 
 tomb" I cannot feel easy without telling her that, although we agree in 
 many things, we greatly diifer in 
 
 CAKE. 
 
 Care will save the " brightest Eyes" 
 Many a " tear 1 and many a wink too ; 
 
 And care will save dear Susan s sighs 
 In days to come. At least I think so. 
 
 Care will keep the " Rose" in bloom, 
 That richly glows upon her cheeks so, 
 
 And chase away the sober gloom 
 
 That clouds her face. At least I think so. 
 
 Care will give a brighter shade 
 
 To pleasant M , her late dominion, 
 
 Where long within its halls she play d, 
 In early youth, tis my opinion. 
 
 Care will give us friends and health, 
 More consequence and more dominion ; 
 
 Twill add to Time, is peace, to wealth, 
 And happiness, in my opinion. 
 
 1820.
 
 70 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 WRITTEN IN AX ALBUM OF A FAIR FRIEND. 
 
 So long has my Harp hung up mute on the willow, 
 Unaccustom d to song, forsaken, neglected, 
 
 So long has blest Phoebus deserted my pillow, 
 
 That a "sweet mellow strain" cannot now be expected. 
 
 But come, my old Harp, that I once loved so dearly, 
 Let me tune thy rude strings to that wild rustic measure, 
 
 And try as in boyhood, when so sweetly and chcerly 
 I sang to the breeze " in my hours of leisure." 
 
 Blest hours departed, full fraught with fruition, 
 Exchanged for the cares of a family and wife ; 
 
 And yet, my dear friend, though changed my condition, 
 I am further advanced in enjoyment of Life. 
 
 In youth we are thoughtless, unsettled, pursuing 
 Each flowery path, without fear or reflection ; 
 
 But when we have traced them, how oft in reviewing, 
 We find our acts do not bear retrospection. 
 
 Not so, when mature. But enough. I mn 
 
 I 11 hang up my Harp from where it was taken ; 
 
 Tis the last time my muse, perchance, will bestow it 
 An " hour of leisure," or its slumbers awaken. 
 
 1830.
 
 POETRY AND KHYMES. 71 
 
 LINES ALTERED FROM MOORE. 
 
 "The thread of our Life would be dark, Heaven knows," 
 If it was not with, friendship and love wreath d around ; 
 
 And dark our path through this valley of woes, 
 
 Was not " Heaven s last best gift" everywhere found. 
 
 Then call not a waste of wearisome hours 
 
 This Life " so chequered with pleasures and woes;" 
 
 It has often its sweets, though sometimes its sours, 
 
 But the thorns are conceal d by the leaves of the Rose. 
 
 1820. 
 
 TO " SPUNGERS: 
 
 Some stop with a "friend" 
 
 And don t like to spend 
 A cent where is seen "Entertainment;" 
 
 But the motto I give 
 
 Is to "live and let live," 
 For Cash is for food, drink and raiment.
 
 72 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 LI.VES 
 
 Supposed to have been written by my wife Ifancy, during 
 my absence from home. 
 
 In imitation of Lines supposed to have been written by Alexander Selkirk, 
 
 I am Mistress of all I survey, 
 
 My flight now extends through the House; 
 My Husband, the scamp s, gone away. 
 
 And I r ni Queen from the ma id to the mouse. 
 
 Oh ! married life, where are the charms 
 That Women have felt in thy ties ? 
 
 Better sleep all alone, than in arms 
 That squeeze till a body most cries. 
 
 But there s comfort in every state, 
 
 And I ve comfort when e er I m alone ; 
 
 Though I caught the old chap rather late r 
 I ll stick to him, " bone of my bone" 
 
 1852.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 73 
 
 LINE 8 
 
 Supposed to have been written ly a young friend of mine, 
 on taking his final leave of a loved object, when his case 
 seemed to le a hopeless one, in a distant city. 
 
 Adieu ! lovely girl, and though memory will ever 
 Cast a shadow of gloom on the hour we parted, 
 
 Yet I will not complain, though I sigh as I sever, 
 And go to my own native home, broken-hearted. 
 
 I told thee I lov d thee, I do not deny it 
 
 That my happiness, T-^y, was center d in thine, 
 
 And observed at the moment thy bosom s disquiet, 
 But dare not conjecture twas feeling with mine. 
 
 "Tis past, fare-thee-well, and may time tend to smother 
 The flame which has burned so sweet, pure and even ; 
 
 May those angelic smiles long make happy another, 
 While my last lingering hope is to meet thee in Heaven.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 TO NAJVJVAIL 
 
 Many years have passed by, and Time with its changes 
 Has silver d the brow of thy once most sincere ; 
 
 Yet his heart is the same, for it never estranges 
 In feelings from one who in youth was so dear. 
 
 I have strove not to love, I ve tried to forget thee, 
 And have frequently thought I ve extinguished the 
 flame ; 
 
 But when I Ve succeeded, and afterwards met thee, 
 Like the moon from the clouds it has burst forth again. 
 
 Perhaps, if I saw thee belov d by another 
 
 Connected with one through the pathway of life, 
 
 It might tend to diminish, perchance it might smother 
 The flame unsubdued by children and wife. 
 
 1832.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 
 
 LINES OF REGRET. 
 
 Let that friendship once sweet as the Rose, 
 Like the Rose fade and die in its bloom ; 
 
 Let it sleep in eternal repose, 
 And oblivion cover its tomb. 
 
 Tis enough to know that the chain 
 
 Which bound us will bind us no longer, 
 
 And there s no way to weld it again 
 
 And make the links firmer and stronger. 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 Written at Cape May, July, 1843. 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beach sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the "dark blue sea;" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the surf for me.
 
 76 FOETIIY AND RHYMES. 
 
 A REQUEST OF A FRIEND. 
 
 I wish thce to take a few minutes of leisure 
 
 And a Watch Paper draw me, for T y, remember 
 
 A Trifle from thce will be kept as a treasure, 
 And prized as a Hose in the month of December. 
 
 On receiving the Watch Paper, upon which was elegantly painted the 
 Dial, the Tomb, and the faithful Doy, with this inscription beautifully 
 written underneath : 
 
 TIME PASSES. 
 FRIENDSHIP REMAINS." 
 
 It is but a Trifle, and yet I would fain 
 
 Keep it long for the Love entertained for the giver ; 
 And as " Time passes" on may " Friendship remain," 
 
 Growing stronger w r ith age, and ending with never.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 77 
 
 TO A FAIR AND VALUED FRIEND. 
 
 How clear is the memory of Joys that are gone ; 
 
 Yet Joys arc delusive, and happiness rare: 
 Suspicion s foul breath is so frequently blown, 
 
 To scatter in fragments their sweets in the air. 
 
 With a friendship as pure as the clear mountain spring, 
 I thought this destroyer of peace did not dare, 
 
 Like a viper concealing its venomous stint/, 
 
 To strike in the dark. "But alas! such things are" 
 
 Let them pass ; I m prepared to receive and sustain 
 Of the sorrows and ills of existence my share. 
 
 They come let them come, I shall never complain ; 
 Tis a Life of vicissitudes, trials and care. 
 
 Then adieu ! my dear friend, with a feeling the same 
 As throbb d in my bosom when in boyhood I met thec: 
 
 That feeling was kindness twas friendship s lov d name. 
 We part, riylit or wrong, I shall never forget thee.
 
 78 POETRY AXD RHYMES. 
 
 TO T** Y /**** Y. 
 
 Recollection, how sweet, of pleasures gone by ; 
 
 But pleasures are fleeting and friendship is rare ; 
 Yet I secretly feel, and I cannot tell why, 
 
 That an attachment like ours may possibly wear. 
 
 Our m-eefing was chance, and had I been younger, 
 Unmarried, and in the pursuit of a wife, 
 
 It would not have been any miraculous wonder 
 
 Had a contract been named for the balance of life. 
 
 To conclude, let me add, though strange it may jingle 
 Things that have happened perchance again may ; 
 
 Should it ever again be my lot to be single, 
 And thcc remain single, keep out of my way. 
 
 TO SALLIK 
 
 Tis true, Life has pass d from its Nay to September, 
 And tliG frost of October has whiten d my hair ; 
 
 Yet my heart has kept free from the chills of December, 
 And my feelings are warm for the "few" and Hie "fair" 
 
 While I stay here below, and thcc lives, and dear Jennie, 
 (In blessedness single,) don t take it amiss 
 
 If I send once a year (and may you live many) 
 My tender regards on a paper like this.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. . 70 
 
 FAREWELL TO ILLINOIS. 
 
 Illinois, adieu to ih\ flies and mosquitoes, 
 
 Thy black, muddy roads, with their soil three feet deep ; 
 I was anxious to gaze on thy beautiful features, 
 
 .But in parting I feel no desire to weep. 
 
 Farewell to thy dark green alluvial ocean, 
 
 Thy rank waving tall grass and cattle in herds; 
 
 Thy "fever and ague," creating emotion 
 
 Expressive of feelings much louder than words. 
 
 I passed o er thy valley by day and nocturnal, 
 
 Thy sun. made my head ache, thy moon gave a chill ; 
 
 And I now write it down for my friends and the Journal* 
 Tis myflrst and last visit, let what happen will. 
 
 I had heard of thy beauty, been told of thy treasures, 
 Of thy wild game and wild flowers "blushing unseen;" 
 
 I long had been anxious to taste of thy pleasures, 
 Forgetting that pleasures were followed by pain. 
 
 Adieu, Illinois ! and to all thy pale livers, 
 Thy lily-faced ladies and yellow-skinned men. 
 
 I entered thce smiling, and leave with the shivers ; -{ 
 Let other folks love thec, but I never can. 
 
 * Published in the Ncwtowu Journal, 1847. 
 f Fever and ague.
 
 80 . TO F,T R V A XI) K II Y M ES . 
 
 TO Jl FRIEND. 
 
 Another year has passed 
 Since we met and parted last 
 
 On the shore of the wide surging- main 
 And a week from to-day 
 I 11 leave home from Cape May ; 
 
 Dear R - , can t we meet and part again ? 
 
 1856. 
 
 LETTER TO MY DEAR WIFE 
 MARCH 23, 1851. 
 
 I have just torn the seal from thy last pleasant letter, 
 And I cannot help loving thee better and Letter ; 
 Tis true that thy cheeks are not now quite so red 
 As in " spring-time" they were (when we ought to have 
 
 wed) ; 
 
 Tis true that thy temples with furrows are filling, 
 And the zone of thy bosom of snow not so killing 
 As when in my boyhood I thought with delight 
 To have made it my pillow to rest on at night ; 
 Yet thy eyes are the same, thy voice yet all sweetness, 
 Thy smile still bewitching, thy person all neatness ; 
 Thy mind richly stored. But enough, I ve no time 
 To make myself foolish in writing more rhyme.
 
 POETRY AND RHYMES. 81 
 
 Suffice it, I m candid, the mischief thee s done, 
 I m a "used up old chap" and can t live alone ; 
 Then take pity on me, my lovely sweet Ann, 
 And make me a happy, contented old man. 
 
 LINES 
 
 Written in my Young Friend Julia 1 s Album. 
 
 On the lack of this look, in gold leaf, I see 
 " The Album of Love" engrav d in a Ring ; 
 
 And after some forty have sung " Love" to thce, 
 An old man of sixty is last asked to sing. 
 
 Well, Julia, dear girl, if my Harp has the power, 
 I ll rub up its strings, and endeavor to move thee ; 
 
 Altho in Time s pathway, it seems a late hour, 
 For me to sing " Julia, Julia, I love thec." 
 
 But don t tell my " Sal-lie" for if she finds out, 
 It might hurt her feelings, if it does nothing more ; 
 
 And the thing may get whisper d, and told round about, 
 And stop me from loving the girls as before. 
 
 And when I can t love God s " last, lest" creation,* 
 That He blest the earth with, and gave her to man, 
 
 For the ties of this world, I ll no more have occasion, 
 And I ll finish Life s journey as soon as I can. 
 
 * The good Book tells us that " Woman was the Creator s last w
 
 POETKY AND liHYMES. 
 
 SCRAPS. 
 
 LIXES ACCOMPANYING- A PHESENT. 
 
 Accept from a silly old man 
 This trifling Grift, as a token 
 
 Of a Friendship strangely began, 
 But with me not easily broken. 
 
 Dear Sally, this world has its queer ones, 
 And perhaps I am one of the queer ; 
 
 It surely for me has its dear ones, 
 And thee 11 ever be one of the dear. 
 
 1855. 
 
 It is true Death has robb d me of Two lovely Marys, 
 I have buried a dear, intellectual Ann ; 
 
 Yet, nevertheless, my heart is the same, (never varies) - 
 Tis as warm as e er throbb d in the bosom of man. 
 
 And the heart that thrice truly lov d ne er will forget, 
 With like charms before it, to love once again ; 
 
 And Sally, like Mary, sounds sweetly, and yet 
 
 I can love her much better if she ll alter her name. 
 
 1856.
 
 POETRY AX I) RHYMES. 83 
 
 LINES 
 
 sed to be written by an Old Bachelor of our Town. 
 
 A PARODY. 
 
 I would not have a Wife to rack my brain, 
 
 To worry me and rob me of my sleep, 
 
 And scold me when I wake, for all the bliss 
 
 That married life (so much enjoy d by some) e er gave. 
 
 No, dear as woman is (but not in my heart s 
 
 Estimation prized above all price,) 
 
 I had much rather go without a wife, 
 
 And mend my clothes, and live and be alone. 
 
 Wives will not stay at home, but go abroad, 
 
 And they themselves, thus running round the world, 
 
 Too often want the marriage knot untied. 
 
 The moment she s a matron she wants riffkts, 
 
 She breaks the rivits, and her shackles fall, 
 
 That s Woman] and bespeaks her proud 
 
 And jealous say not she s a blessing. 
 
 Spread it, then, and let it circulate throughout 
 
 The world at large, that where woman asks more Rights, 
 
 That wife will show what she can do. 
 
 1859.
 
 S4 POETKY AND IlIIYMKS. 
 
 TO ANN. 
 
 Don t suppose for a moment, because I love Mary, 
 (A name which lias ever been cordial to me,) 
 
 Xor conclude, my dear Ann, (with a heart too contrary) 
 That I ve lost the pure spirit of Friendship for thee. 
 
 Tis not so, I still prize I can t lie I love thce, 
 And my Mary she knows it, and she loves thee too. 
 
 Come and sec us. For now the " spirit might move thce ;" 
 Thee has many dear friends here, and warm ones and true. 
 
 LINES 
 
 fn an Advertisement for the Sale of a Drove of Hogs. 
 
 Some brag of their Horses, their Mules, Calves and Lamls, 
 Their Mo winy Machines and their Corn Cultivators ; 
 
 But we go for Sausage, for Scrapple and Hams, 
 And fat pickled Pork, fried in Lard with Potatoes. 
 
 1850.
 
 LETTERS 
 
 WRITTEN FROM CAPE MAY, 
 
 FROM 1855 TO 1867. 
 ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE BUCKS COUNTY INTELLIGENCER,
 
 LETTER NO. I. 
 
 " Some love to roam 
 
 O er the dark sea foam" 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beacli sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the " deep blue sea j" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the surf for me. 
 
 CAPE MAY, July 20, 1855. 
 
 Mr. Printer: I have been in the habit, almost every 
 summer for many years, of spending a few days in the 
 hot months of July and August at this delightful water 
 ing place. I enjoy the salt sea breeze and the bathing. 
 Their exhilarating influence upon the whole nervous 
 system is wonderful. I love to dip in the briny breakers 
 at 11 o clock in the morning, with some two or three 
 thousand of the chequered mass of human beings who 
 go in to bathe at that hour, for in addition to the pleasure 
 it affords, it has a tendency to whet up the appetite for 
 dinner, and make a man in a good humor with himself 
 and all around him. Every one s taste can be suited 
 here, for every grade in society is represented. I have 
 visited jSTewport, Saratoga, Long Branch, Deal, Squan, 
 Ilawkcn, Atlantic City and Coney Island ; but Cape May, 
 in my humble opinion, is far ahead of them all, to spend 
 
 ii few days pleasantly. Here you have the world of 
 
 K
 
 88 LETTERS FKOM CAPE MAY. 
 
 mankind in a nut-shell, or in other words, a bird T s-cye 
 view of society in all its different shades, grades and 
 fashions. Here you have the real lady and the real 
 gentleman, and here you see the would-be angelic crea 
 tures sweeping the streets with their elegant dresses, and 
 their bonnets tied to the backs of their heads, while the 
 Imlry man from the city, with his pants imitating the 
 nicest kind of patch-work, of different colors, comes in 
 for a share of notice. Mr. Printer, I sat at the dinner 
 table yesterday opposite one of these specimens of the 
 male sex, with red hair, three inches long, all over his 
 face and around his mouth. After he had been waited 
 on through the first three courses, the creature called out 
 " wai-t-a-r, wai-t-a-r, bring me a glass of milk." It was 
 quickly brought to order and drank off, after some diffi 
 culty in finding his mouth, but the operation turned the 
 hair around his shaggy inlet perfectly white, forming a 
 most interesting semi-circle of two inches in diameter. 
 He next called for a saucer of rice pudding, and com 
 menced filling in with a four-pronged fork, terminating 
 his dinner with a glass of champagne, which again 
 changed the color of his moustache. But enough, I 
 arose from the table, and left this beautiful model of 
 mankind to fascinate the lovely creature that sat by his 
 side. * * * * * 
 
 To-day, at the hour, I walked in the ocean, 
 Where the white foaming breakers are always in motion : 
 A thousand beside me, each dressed to their liking, 
 Were jumping and kicking, and squealing and striking;
 
 LKTTKKS FROM CAPE MAY. 89 
 
 Twas a wonderful medley such swimming and splash 
 ing, 
 
 As the unruly waves came rolling and dashing; 
 And now and anon did a merciless breaker 
 Display a fair form as it came from its maker. 
 Here, ladies don t blush when they get in the water, 
 And all are delighted wife, mother and daughter ; 
 Even unmarried aunties it don t put the shock on, 
 For they ll dash up against you with barely a frock on. 
 3)iit old maids will do, mid the foaming surf s roar, 
 Some things, rather funny, they wouldn t on shore ! 
 Yet such is the fashion- -aunt, sister and coz, 
 When they go to see Rome, must do as Rome does. 
 Mr. Printer, I tell you, if you ever come here 
 And bathe with the angels, twill make you feel queer. 
 
 Tis the height of the season, and Hops are not few, 
 With the rolling of ten-pins, and "pistols for two ;" 
 A drive down the beach, and a ride to Cold Spring, 
 A walk to Mount Vernon, is the every-day thing ; 
 Thus to fill up the time we have various sports, 
 And fancies, and fashions, and folks of all sorts ; 
 Cape Town is all mirth, animation and glee, 
 And vessels and sails give a charm to the sea. 
 Here are five thousand mortals of the human creation, 
 From sundry parts of this great Yankee nation ; 
 They all find good fare and five thousand more 
 Will be well entertained if they visit this shore. 
 The "Columbia," "Atlantic," the "Centre," the "Hall," 
 "Mount Vernon," the "Mansion," are none of them full. 
 There are twelve other houses, for lodging and food,
 
 90 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 (I ll not mention drinking) all equally good ; 
 The charges are one to two-fifty per day- 
 Drop the types, Mr. Printer, and come to Cape May. 
 
 Your friend from 
 
 NEWTOWN. 
 
 LETTER JVO. II. 
 
 CAPE ISLAXD, July 19th, 1857. 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beach sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the " dark blue sea j" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the SURF for me. 
 
 Messrs. Editors : 
 
 Two years have passed on down the current of Time, 
 Since I wrote you a letter, from Cape May, in rliymc, 
 And, if no objection, I ll mend up my pen, 
 Take down the Old Harp and try once again ; 
 Although you may laugh, and your readers laugh too, 
 I Ve been laughed at before, and (I think) so have you ; 
 But Poets and Printers are a part of creation 
 Whose business it is to enlighten the nation ; 
 Your "intelligent" readers will therefore keep quiet, 
 While we give them some music, or come pretty nigh it. 
 
 McMakin still keeps the "Atlantic Hotel," 
 And he charges the same, and feeds quite as well
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 91 
 
 As when last I was here. and the waves of the sea 
 Still lash the white shore of "the land of the Free." 
 
 Last night was a sweet one the tide had run low, 
 And a walk down the beach seem d to be "all the go." 
 I said to my wife, as the wdiite sand w r e trod, 
 Xo one can walk here, and say there s no God; 
 For the broad Ocean s wave and Niagara s Fall 
 Make man in his work-shop feel very small ; 
 These things are not chance there s a " great First 
 
 Cause" 
 
 Which regulates Xature, and all Nature s Laws; 
 And the man who can look o er the dark rolling sea 
 And not feel Ms littleness, is no man for me. 
 
 The town s filling up, and Fashion s the order 
 The Ladies wear frocks much the same, only broader ; 
 They aim to be round, well hoop d and long skirted, 
 And look very much like a funnel inverted ; 
 They sweep the street stately and soil their fine clothes, 
 But you can t see an ankle, or tread on their toes ; 
 Except, when the hour for bathing comes round, 
 When the beauties of nature, in nature abound. 
 Tis a scene of rare sport, and but few of the crowd 
 Can witness the bath scene, and not laugh aloud. 
 The old and the young, the short and the tall, 
 The fat and the lean, the large and the small, 
 All rigg d to their fancy some white, red and green, 
 In their very best humor, enliven the scene ; 
 But I shall not be particular, under this head, 
 For when I last wrote you, there was enough said.
 
 U2 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 Those who visit the sho v e, all seem to agree, 
 Their greatest delight is to lathe in the sea. 
 
 We have "hairy swells" here, with mouths only found 
 By taking their fingers and feeling around ; 
 They have hair round the Z//JS, round the chin to the 
 
 throat, 
 
 And greatly resemble a masculine fjoat ; 
 They go in for juleps, segars and tis rare 
 
 (In the height of good humor) if you don t hear them 
 swear. 
 
 Here lovers are seen, arm-in-arm, slow in motion, 
 Who "promenade all" every night, near the ocean ; 
 I have marked them, and know, by sure indications, 
 As their lips come together, they feel like relations ; 
 How sweet is that moment! Tis a cup full of bliss, 
 When the question is yopjfd, and the fair one says Yes ! 
 I ve drank of tJiis cup, and I know what I say, 
 Tis a sweet promenade on the beach at Cape May. 
 
 All grades of humanity seem here allured 
 Some to pass away Time, and some to get cured, 
 Some to pick up a shilling, some to spend what they have; 
 Some come to pick pockets, and some come to thieve ; 
 But, of all who come here, two out of three 
 Come here to be seen, or come here just to see. 
 
 The " Vernon" and "Mansion" have both been burned 
 
 down, 
 
 And the vacancy makes quite a hole in the town ; 
 But we ve plenty of room for a few thousand more,
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 93 
 
 And lots of 2^ovisions and liquor in store. 
 
 I like the "Atlantic," and I also like Mac; 
 
 lie s a wliole-soul d fellow, and his house is the crack .; 
 
 His charge, with no extras, (as long as you stay,) 
 
 Twelve dollars a week, or two for each day. 
 
 And now, Mr. Printer, I bid you good-bye, 
 
 Come plunge in the breakers, or answer me, why ? 
 
 LETTER NO, IIL 
 
 APE ISLAXD, July 14th, 1858, 
 
 " Some love to roam 
 
 O er the dark sea foam" 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beach sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the "dark blue sea;" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the SURF for me. 
 
 Once more, Mr. Printer, the heat of the season 
 
 Has drawn many thousands at Cape May together, 
 
 And I with the rest (give the general reason) 
 Come here to get V&&1, (I m too fat for hot weather.)
 
 94 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 Things look much the same as in July last year, 
 The landlords and helps arc, as usual, quite clever; 
 
 Both ladies and shell-fish are plenty, though dear, 
 But when fixed up, with taste, as inviting as ever. 
 
 Our time is employed, as I ve told you before, 
 In bathing, and eat in f/, and riding and walking : 
 
 And lovers are seen, in the evening, on shore, 
 
 Arm-in-arm, step by step, most impressively talking. 
 
 Last evening in taking my stroll, all alone, 
 I pass d by a pair of the turtle dove order ; 
 
 The cliap had a sorrel beard nine inches grown 
 
 The lady was hoop d like a hogshead, though broader. 
 
 Let all have their way, each one to his liking 
 Most fashions will change in a very few years ; 
 
 Yet love has a feature changeless and striking 
 When the answer is yes, the eyes swim in tears. 
 
 But I will not attempt, in a letter of rhymes, 
 To tell all the goes in this miniature sphere : 
 
 We spend money freely not a word of hard times; 
 Yet, how some get the money, is certainly queer. 
 
 " Who s that charming creature on yon cushioned settee?" 
 (Said a swell to a lady of stripe number one.) 
 
 " That female, your charmer that beautiful she 
 Is a store-keeper s girl, whose company I shun. 
 
 " These would-be 1 s come here to get better acquainted 
 With the world, and pass off for more than they re 
 worth ;
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 95 
 
 And go where we may, good society s tainted 
 With a set who have money, of very low -birth. 
 
 "Would you b licve it last summer I went with my ma 
 To sec Saratoga, and drink of the water ; 
 
 But I soon got disgusted with the fashions, while there, 
 For the girl that led off was a shoemaker s daughter." 
 
 I listened no longer to this lass of Idgli Hood; 
 
 I scorn all such feelings, I m for virtue and worth; 
 I advocate industry, morality^ good, 
 
 When and wherever found, regardless of birth ; 
 
 And the man that expects, in this country of Peun, 
 To hold up his head by his ancestors fame, 
 
 Will meet disappointment again and again, 
 For on acts of his own depends his good name. 
 
 Rank has no footing here ; we go in for merit, 
 And the fame of the sire passes not to the son; 
 
 He may wear Pas gold watch, but lie cannot inherit 
 K"aught but his dollars, which when spent he is done. 
 
 And now, Mr. Printer, I ll alter my rhyme, 
 
 And change the "ridiculous" to the "sublime" 
 
 I ll set myself down "on the sea-beaten shore," 
 
 And acknowledge my blessings "in basket and store; 
 
 While many are passing a wretched existence, 
 
 With barely enough for a scanty subsistence; 
 
 Yet the fault is their own, eight cases in ten
 
 96 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAT, 
 
 If not with the women it is with the men ; 
 
 For a man with (jood health and proper ambition, 
 
 At fifty years old occupies- a position 
 
 Respected by most, and asking no favors. 
 
 But able to live from successful endeavors-, 
 
 " Work hard while you re young," be moral, be saving,, 
 
 And you can have all the enjoyments worth craving; 
 
 Set it down, when you see a young man stout and healthy, 
 
 He s an indolent lout, if he does not get wealthy. 
 
 And now, just at parting-, one word for McMackin, 
 And I ll then let the chords of my old harp slacken: 
 He keeps the "Atlantic" in his masterly style, 
 And waits on his guests with his usual smile. 
 Compared with most Houses his charges are small ; 
 When you come to Cape Island give him a call. 
 Adieu,. Mr. Printer, I 11 throw down my pen, 
 And unless I m encouraged will not write again. 
 
 NEWTOWN,
 
 LETTERS FIIOM CAPE MAY. 97 
 
 LETTER JVO. IV. 
 
 CAPE ISLAND, July 20, 1859. 
 
 Some love to roam 
 
 O er the dark sea foam " 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beach sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the dark blue sea ;" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the surf for me. 
 
 Mr. Printer: Again, tis the month of July, 
 
 And the seekers of pleasure are all in commotion 
 Towns and cities are thinn d " To the shore 1 1 is the cry. 
 
 The trunks are packed up, and away to the ocean. 
 Some go to "Long Branch" and the "City Atlantic," 
 
 To "Newport," "JSTahant," and to "Chesapeake Bay;" 
 I ve tried all those places, but hereafter I ll stick 
 
 To the beautiful leach and mild surf of "Cape May." 
 I can here sit me down, at morn, noon and even, 
 
 JNTeath the rude, shady lower , on the snowy white strand? 
 And gaze o er the expanse, till ocean and heaven 
 
 Seem to meet in the distance magnificent grand.
 
 1)8 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 Cape May is the spot to spend a few days, 
 
 And receive (if you re social) the worth of your money; 
 And it has this effect the longer one stays 
 
 The more we incline to be cheerful and funny. 
 We have none of the "scw," and not much " upper-crust" 
 
 But the happy "betweens" come here for enjoyment 
 The chaps who pay cash, and ask not for trust, 
 
 And when they go home go to useful employment. 
 
 The fair sex arc here with their beautiful faces, 
 
 But their forms are concealed by an awful extension, 
 And the only exhibit they make of " the graces" 
 
 Is (in the rude breakers) improper to mention. 
 Oh ! when will the time come when ladies, in dressing, 
 
 Shall again think it right to develop their forms, 
 And no longer de-form " Heaven s last, best blessing" 
 
 In trying to rob mother Eve of her charms ? 
 
 The Gentlemen, too, with their faces all hairy, 
 
 Lend their aid to embellish the varied scene ; 
 Tis true, they look somewhat ragged and scary 
 
 Not like men not like monkeys, but something between 
 Oh ! when will the male sex quit chewing tobacco, 
 
 And smoking segars and drinking mint juleps? 
 Oh ! when will they think lemonade with a cracker 
 
 Becoming refreshments to pass between two-lips ? 
 But tobacco, and hair, hoops, and hops are the rage, 
 
 And old human nature is thrown out of gear, 
 The watchword is, "onward" in this fast driving age, 
 
 While distance and time are used up every year.
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 99 
 
 But the supper bell s ringing ; each one takes his chair, 
 And the waiters march round with a soldier-like din. 
 
 Fried fish, stewed oysters, broiled chickens, take care ! 
 You soon will be numbcr d with "the things that have 
 been." 
 
 This is no time for trifling -jaws all go to working, 
 And knives, forks and spoons are all kept in full play; 
 
 Such pulling and hauling, and snatching and jerking ! 
 Every one to his month takes the easiest way. 
 
 Xcxt, off to the leach, as the sun s going down, 
 And the bay at the inlet seems plated with gold ; 
 
 The ocean with shipping is dotted around, 
 
 And joy fills the hearts of the young and the old. 
 
 In the morning we lathe, &ifive and eleven, 
 
 And have sundry sports throughout the whole day, 
 
 We breakfast at eight, dine at two, tea at seven, 
 And we spend the eve pleasantly, every way. 
 
 But my paper is full, and I ve no disposition 
 
 To trouble your readers, or scribble much more ; 
 I ll finish my letter with this brief "petition," 
 
 Give a call at McMackiii s, when you come to the 
 "shore." 
 
 NEWTOWN,
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 LETTER NO. V. 
 
 CAPE ISLAND, July 18th, 1860. 
 
 <( Some love to roam 
 O er the dark sea foam" 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beach sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the " dark blue sea;" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the SURF for me. 
 
 Mr. Printer : 
 
 Time passes another year s fled, and again 
 
 We, who make the salt sea a bath-tub to swim in, 
 Are enjoying ourselves, and expect to remain, 
 
 While the water keeps warm, and it pleases the women. 
 
 Home has its delights, and yields us more pleasure 
 Than any one spot ; but change gives a zest 
 
 And a checker to life. "All work and no leisure 
 Makes Jack a dull boy" so we come here to rest. 
 
 But if all your concern is to "make the^>o boil" 
 If hoarding up gold is your principal bliss 
 
 Stay at home, and continue your every day toil, 
 And never come near a location like iJus.
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 101 
 
 I m up ever} 7 morning, and stand by the ocean, 
 
 And view the red sun seem is fire the sea ; 
 How grand is the sight how majestic Ids motion, 
 
 As he rises aloft o er the land of the Free. 
 How refreshing the breeze as it comes from the breakers, 
 
 In the cool of the morn, on the shell-covered, shore, 
 And yet of its sweets how few are partakers 
 
 Of this loveliest hour of the whole twenty-four ; 
 But most of the seekers of pleasure prefer 
 
 A one-windowed room, eight by ten, near the attic, 
 And they never presume to get up, nor to stir 
 
 Till the breakfast bell rings they sleep so ecstatic. 
 The Author of all, in Ills great and wise creations, 
 
 Saw fit to make some love one thing some another ! 
 That all mankind, in Life s various relations, 
 
 Might find enjoyment, and not fault a brother. 
 
 This babbling world, so far as mankind is concerned, 
 Is pictured in a nut shell, at Cape Island shore, 
 
 And more of frail humanity may be learned 
 
 In one short fortnight here, than all twas known before. 
 
 And now, Mr. Printer, I 11 alter my metre, 
 
 And let the rhymes slide off shorter and sweeter : 
 
 Cape Town is all bustle, and the throng everywhere 
 Are filled with delight, animation and cheer, 
 And nothing s much altered since last I was here. 
 
 M
 
 102 LETTKftS FHOM CAPE MAY. 
 
 The amusements continue, the ocean keeps salt; 
 Some drink the ardent, and others the malt ; 
 The tables are served up \t\i\\jish, fowl and meats, 
 The richest of pastry and various sweets ; 
 The waiters are kind, obliging and willing, 
 Provided each day you hand out a shilling ; 
 But stop this per diem you re no longer blest, 
 And if you want chicken, you ll not get the breast; 
 This, all the world over, each traveler knows : 
 lie s always respected, if he pays as he goes. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Eleven continues the hour for all 
 
 The aged, the young, the short and the tall 
 
 The father, the mother, the son and the daughter, 
 
 To take coat and hoops off, and plunge in the water. 
 
 Every color of costume to cover up nature, 
 
 Every freak in shape of humanity s creature 
 
 Are fully displayed, for the billows of brine 
 
 Treat none with respect, before nor behind-, 
 
 And those who are careless, and recklessly bathe 
 
 Are sure to be prostrated under the wave. 
 
 ******** 
 
 But enough, Mr. Printer, my letter s too long, 
 I must close my epistle and finish my song ; 
 But between you and I, before I quite close, 
 When you come to Cape Island, put up at Joe s 
 Joe McMackin s I mean. He s a "broth of a lad;" 
 Hisjixens are good, and his oysters not bad. 
 And the eating s not all you may spend Skfewjips 
 In drinking ice water, ale-sang, and mint-juleps
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 103 
 
 His house towers high near the leach and the breakers, 
 And all love to come here even us Quakers. 
 If you want bracing up, here s the place try 
 And take a plunge with us 
 
 For the present, good bye. 
 
 NEWTOWN. 
 
 LETTER JVO. VI. 
 
 Some love to roam 
 O er the dark sea foam- 
 
 Some love to stand 
 
 On the white beach sand, 
 
 And gaze o er the dark blue sea;" 
 But a chosen spot, 
 When the sun s too hot, 
 
 And a plunge in the surf for me. 
 
 Mr. Printer: 
 
 Six years have gone by since the last of my writing, 
 The Rebels arc wldpt, and we want no more fighting ; 
 Though loaded with taxes, yet money is plenty, 
 And boarding per week rates from eighteen to twenty; 
 But if you want extras the life-boat and rower, 
 With a few beach excursions, adds j#tf0 to ten more;
 
 104 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 And yet, for all that, the salt ocean breeze, 
 
 "With a man of my calibre, always agrees. 
 
 I m three score and ten and just one year more, 
 
 And still enjoy a sojourn at the shore ; 
 
 Some may think it a foolish and strange kind of notion 
 
 For a man of my age to bathe in the ocean. 
 
 Let them think what they please in relation to me, 
 
 But as long as I m able, I 11 come to the sea ; 
 
 And when I am here, I generally strive 
 
 To throw off rheumatis and be forty-five. 
 
 There are some who are wealthy, but never dare roam, 
 
 Will say the old fellow had best stay at home ; 
 
 There are those who make market the length of their trips, 
 
 To gather up coupons, greenbacks and^ps, 
 
 And day after day toil through life like the slave, 
 
 And never quit work till consigned to the grave. 
 
 Tis most true, I can t promenade, run, jump and swim 
 As I formerly could, when perfect in limb ; 
 But I have my enjoyment in looking at others 
 The fathers and mothers, the sisters and brothers ; 
 And when bathing time comes the hour of ten, 
 I m riding the breakers like other young men. 
 
 Things greatly have changed the last fifteen summers, 
 Both in conduct and costume of the goers and comers ; 
 A stiffness of manners now seems to pervade, 
 And bonnets and skirts are no two alike made ; 
 The hoops and the water-falls beautify nature, 
 And the lady of fashion s an elegant creature.
 
 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 105 
 
 But the fair sex look lovely, no matter how drest 
 On the sea-beach in flannel) or in silks of the best; 
 And the man of right feelings (who is not to lies given,) 
 Will always say WOMAN S the "best gift of Heaven." . 
 I know what I say, for I ve long known their worth, 
 A virtuous woman s the gem of the earth. 
 The sports and the pastimes, with other employments, 
 Fill up the hours with mirthful enjoyments ; 
 The programme s the same which for years has been sung, 
 And all are good humored, the old and the young. 
 Here s the world in a nut shell, sweetly fann d by the sea, 
 And with all its attractions, Cape Island for me. 
 
 The town s fast improving, and each passing year 
 JN^ew hotels and houses in grandeur appear ; 
 We have the "Atlantic" and great "Congress Hall," 
 And the "United States" much the largest of all ; 
 The "Columbia," the "Centre," the "Ocean," the 
 
 " Beach," 
 
 Where the best entertainment is provided in each ; 
 But, if your purse is too short to pay twenty or more, 
 There are several houses will board you much lower. 
 The many hotels make a pleasing variety, 
 Calculated to fit all the grades of society. 
 
 The railroad, just finished, now opens the way 
 To come, take a bath, and return the same day ; 
 Yet, too true, excursions are frequently made 
 By that class of society of indifferent grade ; 
 But all have a right to partake when they can 
 Of a view of the ocean this wonder to man.
 
 106 LETTERS FROM CAPE MAY. 
 
 "So far shalt thou go and no farther" was said 
 By the foolish Canute, but the waves were not staid ; 
 Like Niagara s roar, it makes one feel small, 
 And we look up to Heaven the Father of all. 
 
 But a word or two more before I conclude, 
 
 As it s not my desire on your sheet to intrude, 
 
 Yet hold on a moment, while briefly I say 
 
 There s a choice of locations when you visit Cape May. 
 
 McMackin s "Atlantic," on the edge of the sea, 
 
 Where the salt breeze is blowing, is delightful to me ; 
 
 The house is well kept and McMackin s the man 
 
 To please everybody if he possibly can. 
 
 I have long known the Captain, and ne er found him 
 
 lackin? 
 In being the kind-hearted Joseph McMackin. 
 
 NEWTOWN. 
 July 17, 1866.

 
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