' '-- '^<'>-t-'^"'^' '■■■i'^'^"-''' '■^'■'''■"•''^■- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES i v^ ''.r^-i-i: . t:.v-:;v;r ':vi;.^^',j';^..^ , -TT. Poems for Little People AND Those of Larger Grov^th, BY J. R. EASTWOOD. " To mould and fashion Life's plastic newness into grace : To make the boyish heart heroic. And light 'cvith thought the maiden's face.' Whittier. LONDON : SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO. 1887. PRINTED BY W. * J. ARNOLD. 18, REDCROSS STREET, LIVERPOOL. TO RICHARD THOMAS HOLLAND THESE VERSES ARE GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED PREFACE. The Poems and Songs contained in this volume liave been, for the most part, already submitted to the judgment of the Public through the world- wide medium of " Cassell's Magazine," " The Quiver," " Little Folks," and " Cassell's Saturday Journal," and the author is indebted to the courtesy of Messrs. Cassell & Co., Limited, the Proprietors of these periodicals, for the privilege of presenting them in a collected form. He also has pleasure in thanking the pub- lishers of " Temple Bar," " London Society," "The Girl's Own Paper," and "St. Nicholas" (Century Co., New York), for kind permission to reprint verses which he has contributed to these magazines. Many of the Poems have been illustrated and set to music by eminent artists and com- posers. Among the former may be mentioned, F. Dicksee, A.R.A., M. E. Edwards, R. Barnes, Alice Havers, Percy Tarrant, Towneley Green, and W. Small; and among the latter, J. W. Elliott, J. W. Hinton, M.A., Mus. D., Frederic G. Cole, L. Mus., J. F. Bridge, Mus. D., Humphrey J. Stark, Mus. D., Hamilton Clarke, Mus. B., J. Gordon Saunders, and E. H. Turpin. CONTENTS. The Children "Love me, Jessie!" The Babes in the Iloat The New Bal:)y ... A Lullaby Shortening the Baby The March of the Geese Jessie's Trouble ... What the Birds are Singing Dorothy ... Father's Story What the Birds teach us In- the Village Street ... Jessie Tired of Play ... Ruth and Her Flowers... A Christmas Carol Waiting for Father The Children's Christmas Bertie Violets PAGE I 2 4 6 S lO 12 14 i6 I? iS 20 21 22 25 27 29 30 32 34 35 Vlll. CONTENTS. PAGE Baby Collins ... ... ... ... ... ... 36 Baby 37 Their Little Queen 38 A King Deposed 40 The Child and the Mouse 42 Playmates... ... 44 Harvest 46 The Old Mill 48 A Portrait 49 The Village Wedding ... 51 The Shoeing Forge 53 An English Girl 55 The Village May-Day ... 57 Walter 59 An Unbidden Guest ... 61 The Singer 62 Thanksgiving 64 A Girl's Story ... 66 Constance 68 In the Cathedral 69 Muffled Music 73 Beyond Recall 74 "When I was a Boy!" 76 Vain Regrets 77 The Robin 79 Song Si In Days to Come 82 The Golden Wedding ... .. 84 Far Apart 86 Desolate • • 88 CONTENTS. ix. PAGE Rondel ... ... ... . . ... ... ... 90 The Days Gone By ... ... ... ... 91 Faith and Work ... ... ... ... ... 93 Conscience .. .. ... ... .. .. 94 Let us be True ... 95 "The Evil Days" 96 "Dieu et mon droit'' ... ... ... ... ... 98 Mariana ... .. ... ... . ... ... 100 The Heart's Winter ... .. ... ... 102 Minor Chords .. ... ... 103 Confession ... ... ... ... 105 Grey and Blue ... ... ... ... .106 First Love ... ... ... ... ... .. no Twilight ... ... ... ... .. ... ... in The Rose ... ... ... ... ... ... 112 The Trysting Place ... ... .. ... ... 114 My Love and I ... ... ... ... ... ... 115 .Sunset ... ... .. ... ... ... ... 117 Evening ... ... ... . ... ... ■ ... 118 The Bird's Message ... ... ... ... ... 119 Treasures... ... ... ... ... ... ... 120 Betrothal ••• 121 The Glade . 122 Waiting ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 123 Hope Deferred ... 124 A Withered Rose ... • ... ... ... 125 Starlight 127 Recompense ... ... ... ... .. ... 129 Consummation ... ... ... ... ... ... 130 Final Faith 132 CONTENTS. PAGK Parting ... ••• 133 Firelight .. ... 134 Rondel ■■• 135 Song ... 136 Lux in Tenebris .. 137 " No Cross, no Crown " •. 139 The City's Litany 141 Jubilee National Anthem .. 143 A Requiem .. 145 Emblems .. 148 "Vive I'Empereur ! " ... 151 The Cross of the Legion of Honour... 153 The Old Guard at Waterloo .. 156 Marshal Ney ... . 159 Plevna, 1877 ... . 162 The King's Messenger ... . 163 Sacrei ) Poems : " For so He giveth His beloved sleep" 166 " Thou knowest not now ! ' ' .. 168 "Seek ye My Face!"... ... 169 " For me to live is Christ, to die is gain " .. 170 " I stand at the door, and knock!" .. 172 "Our Father" 174 " Give Me thine heart !" .. >75 "Lovest thou Me?" ... .. 176 In Simon's House .. I7« Our Home Above .. 179 Forgiveness .. 180 The New Excelsior .. 181 THE CHILDREN. JN breezy meadows where the sun Is seen without a cloud, The happy, happy children run, And play, and sing aloud. And I, who love all sights on earth, All sounds, revealing joy. Would crown a thousand days with mirth For every girl and boy. For soon, too soon, the days depart. And soon the golden hair Is touched with snow, and mind and heart Too soon are filled with care. So let the little children run. And play, and sing aloud. In smiling meadows where the sun Is seen without a cloud. "LOVE ME, JESSIE!" "LOVE me, Jessie!" I heard one day, Watching the children at their play : She was a baby girl, and he A rosy, blue-eyed boy of three. And some small grief had made her cry; And Bertie pushed his playthings by, In deep concern — but sure of this. That all she wanted was a kiss. And Jessie turned her tear-stained face, And smiled to meet the boy's embrace ; And soon the childish tears were dried : The little heart was satisfied. '* Love me, Jessie ! " I heard him say ; And I should like to find a way To make the sweet words live in rhyme For children in the future time. ''LOVE ME, JESSIE!'' That every boy may kinder grow In word and deed : for this I know, That Kindness since the world began Far more than strength has made the man. That httle girls, however small, May copy Jessie one and all ; And they will find, through all the years, That love, sweet love, will dry their tears. THE BABES IN THE BOAT. "YV^ILLIE was two years old, And bright-eyed Minnie three, And five and six, and good as gold, Were Tom and Margery. These small folk loved to roam The shore, and dig the sand. And Kate, our eldest girl at home. Was always close at hand. Now once — this tale is true — They nearly got afloat, •Minnie, and baby Willie too, And in a fishing boat ! These trots had climbed, you see, Into this boat before The tide came creeping quietly And lipi^ling up the shore. THE BABES IN THE BOAT. "Oh, let us pull the rope!" Cried Tom— " Pull, Peggy, pull!" And with distress, and fear, and hope Their little hearts were full. Kate heard the sudden cry, And in an instant came, And brought the trots out, safe and dry, And no one got the blame ! THE NEW BABY. QUR baby has the sweetest name: We call him Noel, for he came When snows were deep, and hearts were gay, And joys were planned for Christmas Day. His little face is like the moon : He coos the same sweet wordless tune Whose charm has touched our hearts before : And every day we love him more ! He holds a Court of Love, and he Controls and rules the nursery : And now the days are never dull, Because he makes them beautiful. And all unquestioned, and untried, This monarch small is satisfied That all the love he t^ets is true, And lakes the honuiLic as his due. TEE NEW BABY. " I want to kiss him ! " every day We hear his Httle sisters say; And baby stares with solemn eyes While safe on mother's knee he hes. And this is our new baby, he Who sweetly rules the nursery : Our Noel, born when hearts were gay, And fields were white for Christmas Day A LULLABY. "yHE waxen doll that shuts her eyes Is in her cot, and quiet lies ; And baby, flushed like any rose, On mother's knee more wakeful grows : She will not sleep, although I try To soothe her with sweet lullaby — Sweet lullaby ! Tlie battered horse, the broken dray, The coral bells, are put away ; And baby, in her clean white gown, On mother's breast may nestle down: O hush, my darling, while I try To sing to you sweet lullaby — Sweet lullaby ! Good night, to dear Red Riding Hood, TIic pretty Children in the Wood : And baby, free from all alarms, A LULLABY. Is rocked to sleep in mother's arms. And will not waken, while I try To bring sweet dreams with lullaby — Sweet lullaby ! 10 SHORTENING THE BABY. OUR baby now is four months old, A bonnie boy with hair hkc gold; And his long clothes are put away, For mother shortened him to-day. He has the loveliest of frocks, All trimmed with lace, and two pink socks That father bought, the best by far And prettiest in the whole bazaar. And now the rogue can kick about : His little feet go in and out As though they could not rest, and he Is just as happy as can be. Besides, he feels quite proud to-day. With all his long clothes put away, And dressed so fine, and then, you know, We praise the boy, and love him so I SHORTENING THE BABY. ii His grandmamma must see him soon : We all will go this afternoon, And take the pet, and stay for tea ; And what a riot there will be ! At first, perhaps, she may not know The baby, he is altered so : But let her guess, and do not say That mother shortened him to-day ! 12 THE MARCH OF THE GEESE. 'P'HE geese go marching through The farm-yard every day, And down the meadows, two and two, They wander far away. With all they chance to meet, A cackling noise is heard, And waddling on with clumsy feet, They really look absurd ! And yet their foolish noise Brings back a tale to me, That all should read, both girls and boys, Who study history. The geese of ancient Rome Once cackled with affright, When spoilers of the hearth and home Crept up the steep at night. THE MARCH OF THE GEESE. i With clamour loud and shrill, From those high walls, they made The waking hero's heart to thrill, While foes shrank back afraid I I think that every one, Who reads this tale, will say That even foolish geese have done Good service in their day. o 14 JESSIE'S TROUBLE. A ROUND the doorway, fresh and green, The thick, bright ivy-leaves were seen ; And little Jessie, tired with play, Sat on the step to rest one day. A rosy maid of three or four, She used to play about the door, And go on journeys down the lane, With Pussy, and come home again. With curls unbonnetted, she sat And nursed the little lazy cat; And Pussy purred quite loud, for she Felt warm and snug on Jessie's knee. And now in Jessie's big brown eyes A troubled look began to rise ; When she went out she had it on : Oh, dear ! where had her bonnet gone 1 JESSIES TROUBLE. 15 And mother told her to be good, And she, poor child, had said she would, And kept herself so clean all day ; And now — oh ! what will mother say ? But cheer up, Jessie ! never mind ! When mother looks she soon will find The bonnet lying in the lane, And bring back all your smiles again ! 1 6 WHAT THE BIRDS ARE SINGING. 'P'HE music wanting words Is everywhere about Where tender-throated Birds Fly softly in and out n Among the fir-trees high, With branches sere and brown, That veil the autumn sky, And drop their needles down. The faint and curious smell Of fir-cones on the ground (Who does not know it well?) Is fragrant all around; And everywhere the Birds, From branch and bough above, In strains like sweetest words, Are singing, " God is love ! " I? DOROTHY. fs^ LITTLE rogue, and mother's pet, She cannot say her letters yet, And, full of fun, she seldom tries, With mischief dancing in her eyes. But still our darling can behave As good as gold, and look as grave As if the business and the care Of all the State were laid on her. And she believes her friends are true And good, and she will love them too ; And may she wear these graces long, The faith and love that think no wrong ! '& Oh, happy child, what books can teach, Or lips of wisdom strive to preach, That we may learn, from hearts like thine, To make these graces burn and shine ! i8 FATHER'S STORY. jSJ'OW, listen while I tell to you A story that is really true ; It is about a box, when we Were children in the nursery. High on the garden bank it stood, An old square box of painted wood ; And there, in summer, we could play At " Coach and Horses " every day. Now this was years and years ago, When father was a boy, you know; And Auntie Florence was so small I had to mind she did not fall. Most children have to sit inside, But on the box seat we could ride, And hold the \vhi|) and reins, and see The big horse trotting steadily. FATHERS STORY. 19 We had no real horse, you know, Though we, of course, pretended so, Like other folk, with better sense. And quite grown up, who make pretence. And often, too, these folk could tell They do not manage things so well, Nor feel so happy every day As little children in their play. 20 WHAT THE BIRDS TEACH US. ]\[OVEMBER now is here, With skies of leaden hue, And gloomy days and drear. And winds that pierce us through. And on the hedge the rose, With leaves of tender green, No more in beauty grows, And frost and snow are seen. Eut still the Birds contrive. By hardship unsubdued, To keep themselves alive. And keenly seek their food. And thus they teach us still, Hovvever dark the day, " Tliat where there is a Will There always is a Way." 21 IN THE VILLAGE STREET. J MEET her in the village street : A pretty little maiden sweet, With shy blue eyes, and forehead fair And bright with blown and golden hair. And since I only live to love While earth beneath and skies above Are bright by day and dark by night, I meet and greet her with delight. And sweet she is as sweet can be ; And till the heart that throbs in me Is cold to beauty and to grace, I shall rejoice to see her face. For years of grief have rolled away Since life grew dark one smiling day — When Jessie died— but still I meet, And clasp and kiss her in the street ! 22 JESSIE. I. T'O me all beauty of the race Was in the beauty of her face ; And brightest gold would ill compare With brightness of her golden hair ! Sweet as the blue of summer skies, The rare blue of her roguish eyes ; Sweet as a rosebud from the south, The marvel of iier perfect mouth ! And words of wonderment were weak, Of all her winning ways to speak, Whose graciousness had fairer grace Than all the fairness of her face ! Alas ! that I shall hear no more Her footsteps light upon the floor, And that my lips must sadly miss The touch of her caressing kiss ! JESSIE. 23 II. Dead ashes dropping from the fire, And dead leaves dropping in the lane ; And in my heart the dead desire For summer days to shine again — Since bitter loss brings bitter pain. The fire dies in the dismal grate; The short day ends in longer night ; My heart aches with its leaden weight ; Long grief succeeds my short dehght ; And her sweet face is cold and white ! The faded flowers are lying low ; The sweet flower of my life is shed , Through days of weariness and woe, My lieart will sorrow for the dead — Refusing to be comforted ! III. In dreams, in dreams, I see again A sweet face seen in former years, But with no pang of sudden pain Or flow of unavailing tears ! 24 JESSIE. In dreams, in dreams, she runs to me, With laughing lips and eager eyes. Whose httle grave I often see, Grown green with many summer skies ! In dreams, in dreams, I hear her fleet Familiar step upon the floor. Who paces now, with infant feet, The golden pavement ever more ! In dreams, in dreams, with rapid flight, I rise above each fading star, And see her in those halls of light, Where many little children are ! 25 TIRED OF PLAY. T SEE you sitting tired of all The joyful romp of hoop and ball, And by your look it seems to me That you are thinking, Dorothy. Perhaps that thoughtful glance would say That you are tired of children's play, And soon, so soon, you want to be Grown up like mother, Dorothy. When we grow up ^ye do not find That things are always to our mind ; And often then we wish tliat we Were like the children, Dorothy. For we grow tired, like girls and boys, In sjnte of all our worldly toys. And liave no loving mother's knee To climb for comfort, Dorothy. 26 TIRED OF PLAY. My little daughter, looking on To life that is so quickly gone, It is the same for you and me, And kings in purple, Dorothy. And tired of play, of hoop and ball, Of books and pen, of crowns and all, We long for that new life to be, And joys that change not, Dorothy, 27 RUTH AND HER FLOWERS. ■y^HERE the birds and butterflies 111 the sun are flitting, Watching them with happy eyes Little Ruth is sitting. Ruth is only five, you see, In the charming May-time Of her childhood's years, and slie Makes the most of play-time. She is fond of picture-books, But a warmer lover Of the lanes, and fields, and brooks. And the trees above her. Like the gems with coloured light Hidden in the casket, Roses nestle, pink and white, In her covered basket. 28 RUTH AND HER FLOWERS. Ruth is resting after play; Even play is tiring, Seeing pretty things all day, Wondering and admiring ! Free from care we seldom rest j All the care she knows is Where to find the harebells best, Woodbine^ ferns, and roses. 29 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. JT is the time when frost and snow Bring Christmas mirth and mistletoe, And berries red and holly green, And silent skies with starlight keen. It is the time when on the tree The shrill birds chirp for charity, And seek for food on wintry days Along the snow-encumbered ways. It is the time when God in love Sends peace on earth from heaven above, With all the joys that shone for them Who hailed the Star of Bethlehem ! It is the time when earth is fain To catch the angels' song again, Whose carol strains made glad the morn On which the Holy Child was born I 30 WAITING FOR FATHER. JN a corner of the hall Where the holly glistens Bright with berries on the wall, Mary sits and listens. With a sprig of mistletoe, There she waits demurely, And when father comes, you know, She will catch him surely. Not beneath the Kissing-bush — She is planning rather To escape the noisy rush, When she kisses father. Oh, the little artful Miss, Happy like the season, Planning, plotting for a kiss. Can you guess the reason ? WAITING FOR FATHER. When the children, big and small, Crowd around to kiss him. Pulling father, one and all, She perhaps might miss him I From her nook, when they are done, Bright as any fairy, To her father she will run, Roguish little Afary ! 32 THE CHILDREN'S CHRISTMAS. "yyHEN we were children, years ago, We loved the coming of the snow, And clapped our hands with joy to see The white flakes falling silently. For when the whirling snow came down On slates and chimneys of the town, On spire, and mill, and sparkling mere. We knew that Christmas time was near. And with a strange and vague delight, We listened in our cots at night, To hear the legend, carolled high, " I saw three ships come sailing by ! " We used to lie awake because We wished to peep at Santa Claus, The friend who pleases girls and boys With stockings filled with sweets and toys THE CHILDREN'S CHRISTMAS. On Christmas Day we had a Tree Whose splendour was a sight to see, Laden with wondrous gifts, and bright With small wax tapers all alight. And oh ! the laughter years sgo. The games beneath the mistletoe, The romping children, flushed and gay, The happy, happy Christmas Day ! OJ 34 BERTIE. QOME to my arms, my little son, And kiss away my care, And soothe my heart and mind undone, With fingers in my hair ! 35 VIOLETS. Q.OD hid His violets in the vale, And passing breezes told the tale ; And hid like these, of precious worth, His flowers of virtue bless the earth. A little maiden, born to bloom With sickness in a narrow room, And with a smile of tender grace To kiss the care from mother's face. She stays at home whilst others play; She does not find it hard to stay : " For mother dear is ill, you see, And baby's only good with me." O little maiden ! kind and true, We well might learn to copy you ! O violets ! blooming on the ground. And hid, but blessing all around ! 36 BABY COLLINS. TTIS heart is an unwritten page; His lieart is like his face, Where only happy charms engage Of innocence and grace. And Earth and Sun, and Moon and Star To him are bright and dear; And God's good angels are not far, But always very near. O you ! beside whose knee at night He feels the soft caress, And whispers, kneeling, robed in white, "Lord Jesus, keep and bless!" O you ! whose love his charms engage, (As in the Father's sight) To fill that heart's unsullied page, What will you strive to write? S7 BABY. roguish eyes and sweet and blue ! What shall I say or sing of you, Whose grace it is a grievous wrong To speak or praise in any song ? 1 kiss you, and I find you sweet From curly head to rosy feet : And all that you can crow with glee Is worth a world of books to me. And precious in His sight and dear To Christ are all His children here : And held in trust, and treasure lent, They bring us joy from Jesus sent. And when the lisping prayer is said. The angels guard the little bed, Whose eyes, beyond the starry space, Do always see the Father's face. 38 THEIR LITTLE QUEEN. TT is a joyful holiday, When children roam the fields and play; And baby Nell is dressed and gone To see her cousins, Kate and John. And birds flit by on eager wing Past apple-orchards blossoming, And green deep lanes, with hedge-rows high, Steep banks, and boughs that screen the sky. And Kate has made a hawthorn crown; And from the bank John scrambles down, And brings a flowering branch, and he Fashions a rod of sovereignty. The sceptre and the wreath arc both For tiny Nell, and nothing loth, The maid, the dearest ever seen. Is kissed and crowned, their little Queen ! THEIR LITTLE QUEEN. 39 Along the lane, and through the gate, And down the corn-field path, in state, Sceptred and crowned, and sweet and fair, Borne shoulder-high, they carry her. Oh, baby Nell, the days may be When you will pine such friends to see. With hearts so fond on which to lean, So true to you, their little Queen ! 4d A KING DEPOSED. T-TIS Court is broken up, and he No more controls the nursery : A King deposed, lie sees to-day His crown and sceptre pass away. There comes, to claim his Kingdom, now Another baby, on whose brow, In due succession handed down, Is placed the fallen monarch's crown. Strii)ped of his honours, he will miss The tribute of the frequent kiss From courtier friends, a fickle host. Who fail him when he needs them most. Friends change with fortunes, as we know They hailed him King two years ago : They placed the chairs for him to walk. And held as wise his smallest talk. A KING DEPOSED. 41 Now this new baby takes away His kingdom in a single day : And in his playroom palace left. He stands, of throne and crown bereft. Neglected, put aside, he stands, The sceptre vanished from his hands : A child, among the children, he No longer rules the nursery. 42 THE CHILD AND THE MOUSE. POOR bright-eyed creature ! do not be afraid ! I will not harm you, pretty one : i\Iy heart is not of such unkindness made, That I can kill for fun, Or give you to the cat: I never thought of tJiat. But you are caught, you know — what must be done? I think a Prison must have bars like these. Poor little mouse ! don't tremble so 1 Why don't you eat that piece of toasted cheese? I think I'll let you go ! For if 1 leave you here I very greatly fear That Pussy — but she n-ever shall, oh no ! And then there's Fred. I think Fred most unkind. He caught a little bird one day : THE CHILD AND THE MOUSE. 4- It got between the window and the blind, And could not get away; And Fred just caught it, nice ! And Fred loves catching mice ! But then he kills them, too, and calls it play. Poor little mouse ! I think I'll let you out ! I won't tell naughty Fred, not I ! But first I'll see if that old cat's about, For she's so sharp and sly, Now run ! or Fred will see, And he'll be cross with me ! But he can't catch you now — ^just let him try ! 44 PLAYMATES. 'PHE rippling tide was deep and clear Beneath the quaint, old-fashioned pier; And often there, in breeze and sun, When days were bright, we used to run. The fishing nets spread out to dry, The screaming gulls, the sea and sky, The sands, the boats, were dear to me, And my sweet playmate, Dorothy. We were the happiest pair alive, And she was six and I was five ; And in our travels everywhere We took a doll with flaxen hair. We found a coil of rope one day, Where Dorothy, when tired with play, Could sit, and watch the waves, and try To count the brown sails passing by PLAYMATES. 45 And once she was not friends whh me Because I kept her doll, and she Was cross, and would not talk, and so We kissed, and made it up, you know. Oh, joyful days, in breeze and sun, When on the pier we used to run ! When first I saw the boats at sea, With my sweet playmate, Dorothy ! 46 HARVEST. T AST night we saw the sunhght fall Beyond the gate and old stone wall, And brighten on the stocks of wheat, Ripe after days of brooding heat; And in the lane we lingered long, Then homeward turned, a sleepy throng. Yet glad to hail the joyful day, We rose while still the dawn was grey. And roused the house, a merry band, The happiest children in the land; And all were dressed, and breakfast done, Before the day had well begun. The sun looked out, and quickly dried The gleaming dew, and glorified The broad array of clustered sheaves, And pierced the lane's green roof of leaves, And shone in strength, as one and all Trooped to the gate and moss-grown wall. HARVEST. 47 And mother came, with Margery Our eldest sister, pleased to see The busy harvesters and hear Our cries of triumph shrill and clear, As heavy waggons loaded high With rustling sheaves came rumbling by. Late in the golden afternoon, Yet long before the rising moon, The last great waggon-load was piled, And, lovely still, the sunlight smiled Above the toilers resting there, And those broad acres reaped and bare. 48 THE OLD MILL. (~)NE hundred years the mill has stood: One hundred years the dashing flood Has turned the wheel with roaring sound, Through foaming waters, round and round. One hundred years : and overhead The same broad roof of blue is spread; And in the meadows, bright and green, The miller's children still are seen. And thus the world is still the same: The sunset clouds are turned to (lame ; And while wc live, and when we die, The lark still carols in the sky. And others rise to fill our place ; We slecj), and others run the race : And earth beneath and skies above Are still the same ; and (lod is love. 51 THE VILLAGE WEDDING. 'Y'HE weeks and months, with long delay, Have brought at last the wedding day ; And pealing bells, with merry din. The joyful morn have ushered in ! And now the church begins to fill; And all are seated, pleased and still, While matron looks rebuke the boys Who move their feet with shuffling noise. And village girls, with whispered talk. And smiling lips, have lined the walk, And ready stand, on either side, To scatter flowers before the bride. And soon she comes, with modest grace. The bridegroom waiting in his place; The ring is on, the words are said. They kneel to pray, and they are wed. 52 THE VILLAGE WEDDING. And shine in brightness, golden sun, To crown a day so well begun ! And peal, and shake the ivied tower, O bells^ to hail the bridal hour ! May every blessing with them stay That we liave wished for them to-day ! And happy be the lot in life Of loyal husband, loving wife ! S3 THE SHOELMG FORGE. JS^ STONE'S throw from the market town, Close on the lane that wanders down Between tall trees and hedgerows green, The famous shoeing forge is seen ; Open it stands upon the road, That day and night is overflowed By ruddy light that leaps and falls Along the rafters and the walls. And often, halting on his way, The idler from the town will stay To hear the sharp, clear, ringing sound. And watch the red sparks raining round, And the bright fiery metal glow, While the strong smith, with blow on blow, Hammers it into shape — a sight To rouse his wonder and delight. 54 THE SHOEING FORGE. Now in the smouldering fire once more The bar is thrust; the bellows roar, And fan the flame to fiercer light, Until the metal waxes white ; Then, on the anvil placed again. Ding-dong, the strokes descend amain; Strong is the arm, the vision true, Of him who shapes the iron shoe. For thee, O reader, is the thought That great success in life is wrought Not by the idler as he stands With wondering looks and empty hands, But by the toiler who can take Each adverse circumstance and make It bend beneath the force and fire Of firm resolve and high desire ! 55 AN ENGLISH GIRL. O FAIR as is the fragrant rose That in an English garden grows, That breezes woo, that dews impearl — O sweet she is, an English girl ! With tresses dark, or golden hair, Blue eyes or black, she still is fair. With all the lovely looks we see In Jessie, Kate, or Dorothy. The happy eyes are frank and bright, And full of laughter, full of light; The lips are perfect, speaking truth, And peerless with the smile of youth. A queen — by every poet sung — She needs no sceptre being young, Nor cares to wear a brilliant crown On brighter tresses rippling down ! 56 AN ENGLISH GIRL. O sweet as is the stately rose That in an English garden grows, That breezes kiss, that dews impearl- My love, she is an English girl ! I 57 THE VILLAGE MAY DAY. PILED up with sacks, to yonder town The great mill waggon lumbers down: Drawn by three horses, tall and strong, The great mill waggon rolls along. The miller's smock is clean and new, And smart with ribbons, red and blue ; And tinkling bells on bridle rein Have made the stately horses vain. And every year the First of May Is made the village holiday : The school is closed : the children run In meadows smiling with the sun. o And now before tlie mill they wait, While some, impatient, climb the gate, And shout with glee, when drawing near The loudly rumbling wheels they hear. 58 THE VILLAGE MAY DAY. And soon the horses loom in sight, With gay rosettes, and harness bright, While dose beside the leader's head, The miller walks with sturdy tread. Long may the festive day come round And find the miller hale and sound, And may his goods increase, and still The great wheel turn his busy mill. 59 WALTER. PARRWELL! I hold you by the hand; We find it hard to part : But love can bridge the sea and land, And keep us close at heart. And when strange pictures in the blaze Of evening fires you see, And sadly muse of other days, O then remember me ! Remember all the joy we had In that first glow of life, When, full of hope, our hearts were glad To meet the coming strife. Remember all the days we spent Beneath the happy sun, That smiled on every good intent With every day begun. 6o WALTER. Remember how we used to stand When evening fields were siill, To see tlie glare across the land And hear the busy mill. Remember all our friendly talk In fragrant lanes at night, When stars came out above our walk, And shone in silver light. Remember when your hopes were dead The grief you told to me, And how I spoke of hopes instead In brighter days to be. .\nd let the thought of tliis be strong To cheer the lonely road, When thinlo'ng that tlic way i^s long, And weary with the load. For I am still your constant friend ; And when the dying flame Of other love has found an end, My love v,ill be the same. 6i AN UNBIDDEN GUEST. A BIRD one day, as birds will do When times are hard, came hopping through An open window in the mill. One day wlien all the place was still. It saw, no doLibt, the golden store Of grain that covered ali the floor; But never thought, in point of law, It had no right to what it saw. For birds are children of the air Dependent on the Father's care, Who made for theui His sun to shine, And gives them food by law Divine. And .so it hopped about the floor And dined, and carne next day for more — And every day — and on the tree It used to sit and sing to me. 62 THE SINGER. A LARK rose, rustling thro' the corn, With small, dusk pinions wet with dew; The pale, pearl light of early morn, In skies above, was peering thro' The lattice bars of grey and blue. It seemed as though the conscious air "Was charmed to silence with the song; 1 saw the brown breast-feathers stir With that full music, soft and strong; I stood and looked and listened long. And all the waking earth was sweet; The brook was whispering with the breeze. That danced away across the wheat, To chase the leaves and join with these At hide and seek among the trees- THE SINGER. 63 O clear, sweet singer of the skies, Teach us the worth of common things — Seen when the world of beauty lies Broad-cast around the soul that sings, Borne up aloft on eager wings ! AVe choose the darkness and the ground; We build low down beneath the corn, And eat and live, while all around, In skies above, the light is born ; We fold our wings and live forlorn. 64 THANKSGIVING. 'PHE village church, a quaint old pile, Stands where the quiet meadows smile, Dotted with sheep, and, reaped and bare, The stubble fields, and orchards fair. Pleasant it was that Sabbath morn To see the mighty stacks of corn, And joyful on that blessed day To feel that toil was put away. Sweet, in the cliurch, it was to hear I'hc harvest anthem rising clear, And in those tuneful strains outpoured To join the praises of the Lord. For from our hearts that song arose To Him Whose lovint^ kindness flows To crown with joy a lliousand lands, And IjIcss the labour of our hands. THANKSGIVING. 6 The anthem ceased, and still I thought On all the mercies God had wrought : And in my heart I took away This lesson of that Sabbath day. The sweetest song can ill declare The praises of the worshipper; The life of service must express The heart's desire of thankfulness. 66 A GIRL'S STORY. "yHE quaint, grey, picturesque, old grange Has seen three hundred years of change With all their varying seasons pass. And hours like sands, that thro' the glass Of Time keep dropping, one by one; We live, and lo ! our lives are gone ; And death and change, and hopes and fears, Fill up the measure of the years. Here, in the pleasant gallery. With carved oak panelled round, I see A girl's brown eyes, and shining hair Coiled on the shapely head, and fair, Sad, musing face, whose charms engage The heart like some enchanting page, Where grief, and love, and tears prevail In sweet Clarissa's moving tale ! A GIRL'S STORY. 67 A wistful, lovely face, and one It moves the heart to look upon ; Poor child ! whose eyes thro' tears of woe Looked down a century ago, And saw, one morning bright with May, Her brave young lover ride away, When by the casement on the stair The light of life grew dark for her! His letter told her : " thine till death ! " He fell in fight, the legend saith, Covered with glory, and his ears Were thrilled in death with conquering cheers ! And she strove ever to endure Her grief, and helped the suffering poor. And lived un wedded till she died. And now in heaven is satisfied ! 0§ CONSTANCE. J^INETEEN, with just a touch of pride, And all of girlish grace beside ; And rich in simple charms, a queen By royal right of sweet Nineteen. O vain attempt of words to show What you by words can never know ! For who would sketch the Rose, and see The living blossom on the tree? Ijut search, and say when you have seen The face most fair of sweet Nineteen, And find therewith the crowning grace, A soul to match the lovely fiicc. And even then, when this is done. You have not seen the sweetest one; And Constance will remain coiifest The chosen queen of all the rest. 69 IN THE CATHEDRAL. 'pO the arched and lofty ceiling Lordly columns rose around, And the breathless hush of silence Was not broken by a sound. Through the stained and stately windows Did the dying sunlight shine ; And the radiant faces on them Wore a rapture more divine. But the slowly sinking splendour Cast long shadows through the place ; And the former glory faded From each fair celestial face. Then my poet- soul indulging In a reverie sublime, Sought to wander back in fancy Through the centuries of time. IN THE CATHEDRAL. Underneath the sculptured marble King and captain slept around : And I knew the place was haunted— Knew I stood on holy ground. When the pulseless heart no longer Throbs with passion in the breast, Shall the spirit share the quiet Of that long unruffled rest? Deeper grew the sombre shadows; And my dreamy glance, the while, Saw a knightly train approaching Down the dim Cathedral aisle. ]^rom the helmets of the heroes Crests and plumes were shorn away, And the dust of wearv marches On their dinted armour lay. They had fought at famous Hastings, In the van of battle trod, When the brave and princely Harold Perished on the trampled sod; IN THE CATHEDRAL. 71 Dying in the hottest fore-front, Where the vahant ever die, Where the chariots and the horsemen Wait to whirl their souls on high ! And the glad Te Deum anthem Rose in triumph from the band ; For the Norman banners floated Over all the conquered land ! Then the organ pealed sonorous Thunder from its throats of gold, And the swelling storm of music Through the vast Cathedral rolled; And the grand reverberations Rang responsive all around — Thrilled along the lofty columns — Died away in murmuring sound. This was but a poet's fancy, Born of passion and the brain : Often does that dream of music, Wondrous dream, return again. 72 IN THE CATHEDRAL. Often, in the twilight musing, Does the soHtude inspire, Till I hear the organ pealing And the singino; of the choir — Till the gloom before me glitters With the fitful gleam of steel, And the sacred pavement echoes To the ring of knightly heel — Till in picturesque procession Mail-clad heroes pass, the while, In my dreamy vision, looking Down the dim Cathedral aisle. 73 MUFFLED MUSIC. J!^ CARELESS child, I used to sing Thro' halcyon days of happy Spring; My morn of life was bright and clear : The night drew closer, year by year. A lonely boy, 1 left the rest. And sought his side I loved the best; A friend is sweet when foes are near : I miss his friendship, year by year. A dreaming youth, I longed for fame, The honour that exalts a name; The hope was strong my heart to cheer, That now grows fainter, year by year. A victor crowned, I stand alone On hostile ramparts overthrown; He would rejoice to greet me here : His grave grows greener, year by year. 74 BEYOND RECALL. J LEAVE the Past behind, you see; It gUtters far behind : The flight of fancy, wild and free; The happiness of mind; The settled peace which dwelt with me; I leave them all behind ! I leave my Youth behind, you see, And hope is left behind; I seek, in present misery, Some future good to find; But this at least is lost to me, The life I leave behind. I leave my Heart behind, you see, I sigh, and look behind, And long for what can never be, For foolish love is blind ; And beauty smiles in vain for me; I leave romance behind. BEYOND RECALL, 75 I leave them all behind, you see, For evermore behind ! The leaves which flutter from the tree May wanton in the wind; And False Delight may follow me, But Joy is left behind ! 76 "WHEN I WAS A BOY!" ' "^yiiEN I was a boy," the grandsire said To the bright lad by his knee, '"Of the victors crowned with fame I read Who triumphed on land and sea ! And through the years, from the deathless page, A summons has sounded long : To youth, and manhood, and hoary age, The message is this — 'Be Strong!'" "When I was a boy" he paused and said To the listener by his knee, "Of the men who were as lights I read In a dark world's history ! They prized the truth, and were loved of God, And no fear of Man they knew: And still, from the glorious heights they trod, The message is this — 'Be True!'" VAIN REGRETS. A LAS, that sunshine of a sultry noon Should scorch and wither up the tender grass ; Alas, that all we love is lost so soon ; Alas, alas ! Alas, that fragrant flowers should fall and fade, That with the Passing summer they should pass; Alas, that beauty in the dust is laid; Alas, alas ! Alas, that riches should have wings to fly, That years of toil have taken to amass ; Alas, for breaking hearts beneath the sky; Alas, alas ! Alas, that on the white and wasted cheek The hectic colour should the Rose surpass ; Alas, that death in slow decay should speak ; Alas, alas ! 78 VAIN REGRETS. Alas, that in our grief we only see That bHss Beyond but darkly thro' a glass; For lliere the burden of no song will be, Alas, alas ! 79 THE ROBIN. ^ STARVING Robin sang to me, With round black eyes, with bosom red. With bird-Uke grace of restless head, Still peering here and there to see The white, expected crumbs of bread. And these, in sport, I still withheld: So sweet it was to hear it sing, So sweet to watch the hopping thing, With those quick, eager eyes compelled To looks of curious questioning. But is it wise to make pretence? The seeming false is often fair ; For Love is Love, though Love should wear The mask of feigned Indifference : But what of unforeseen Despair? 8c THE ROBIN. O cruel heart that could withhold The crumbs on such a bitter day ! For still the bird was fain to stay, Half perished with the freezing cold: A moment more — it flew away ! 8i SONG. "Missing the keynote which unlocks the music." 'PHE near approach of happy sprhig, The bloom and beauty she will bring, The sunrise on the eastern sea, These things have lost their charm for me ! The summer days of dreamy ease, The song of birds from leafy trees, The sunset on the western sea, These things have lost their charm for me ! The rapt repose of autumn days, The chequered light in woodland ways. The brilliant stars above the sea, These thin^ RONDEL. AT thirty years, it is enough for me To know I am not what I hoped to be ' It is enough, storm-beaten on the plain, To view the splendid heights I cannot gain- Low down to miss the music of the spheres — At thirty years ! The half of life has passed, and half remains : One effort more, O soul, to break the chains Of circumstance! to fill this page of Time With characters of glory, and to climb The steep ascent, with songs in place of tears, At thirty years ! The clouds will pass ; the sim will dazzle thro' On rose-flushed pinnacles that pierce the blue : O deep disgrace, to loiter on the plain — Irresolute, to grieve at toil and pain- To be the slave of sloth and sordid fears, At thirty years ! 1^6 SONG. \YHAT day of days will dawn for me, On what far-off to-morrow, When I shall cease to think of thee With sorrow, endless sorrow? What faith in happiness to be, What comfort shall I borrow, When all my life I think of thee With sorrow, endless sorrow ? The day of death will dawn for me, That knows no dark to-morrow, When I shall cease to think of thee AVilh sorrow, endless sorrow. 137 LUX IN TENKBRIS. LOVE! O sorrow! O delight! The seasons come and go : They bring the day, they bring the night, They bring me joy and woe. 1 raise the chalice gleaming bright With clustered roses, red and white: With tears that overflow, With sorrow void of all delight, I drink the cup of woe. The sun will rise, tlie sun will set, In clouded skies and clear, And hope forlorn, and vain regret. And grief will fill the year. And love supreme will tarry yet. One star, when all the stars have met jr^S LUX IN TENEBRIS. '0 Made manifest and dear : One star, when all the stars have set, Through all the changing year ! 139 "NO CROSS, NO CROWN." 'PHE poet who has charmed the world May in a garret pine for bread; And he who bears the flag unfurled Must in the van of battle tread Amid the dying and the dead. They only rise who first aspire; The martyr wears the gloriole When he has triumphed in the fire : And they who make the skies their goal Must plume the pinions of the soul. " No cross, no crown ; " there is no choice ; We climb the rugged steep with pain, But on the summit we rejoice : Hereafter we shall not complain Of loss which was the price of gain. A thousand forces lie in wait To drag us from our purpose down : 140 NO CROSS, NO CROWN. But shall we, on the verge of fate, ■ Forsake the pathway of renown — Forego the cross, and lose the crown? 141 THE CITY'S LITAXY. Q LORD, how long with naked feet Shall little children roam the street? And pray, with starving lips unfed, " Give us this day our daily bread ! " Till pitying hearts redress the wrong, O Lord, how long? O Lord, how long shall sin and shame Blaze upward like an altar flame, With human souls for sacrifice? How long shall they for whom the price Of death was paid to ruin throng? O Lord, how long ? O Lord, how long shall mercy strive In vain to save these souls alive? How long shall discord vex the earth. That heard glad music at her birth, When stars began tlicir choral song ? O Lord, how long ? 142 THE CITY'S LITANY. O Lord, how long shall men proclaim The Infant born at Bethlehem? When in the great cathedral's shade The sad, small children shrink afraid, Reared into crime by cruel wrong; O Lord, how long? O Lord, how long shall darkness brood Above the weary multitude. Till light dispel the night of sin And bring the heavenly kingdom in? In faith we pray — our faith is strong — O Lord, how long ? ^43 JUBILEE NATIONAL ANTHEM. (Tune: "Rule, Britannia.") OUR country, in her pride of place, With green fields smiling on the deep, Makes ready, with a festal grace, The year of Jubilee to keep. Hai], Victoria ! Victoria, on whose crown Fifty happy years look down ! Through all the cities of our land The lighted streets shall mock the day ; On jutting clifts and headlands grand The fires of Jubilee shall play. Hail, Victoria ! Victoria, on whose crown Fifty shining years look down ! O Empress-Queen ! From every heart A blessing shall be breathed for thee — Thy people's love the brightest part, 144 JUBILEE NATIONAL ANTHEM. The jewel of thy Jubilee ! Hail, Victoria ! Victoria, on whose crown Fifty golden years look down ! 145 A REQUIEM. QONE, in the dawn of life, Before the heat and strife— "Whom the gods love die young "- What shall be said or sung, With tears that fall between, While yet the grass is green Above his early grave ? What new sweet forms of speech, What lyric words, can reach The height of his renown, Or weave for him a crown? What Requiem shall be said Above our dearest dead, Laid in his early grave? Let Memory, hand in hand With Love and Sorrow, stand, Each with a wreath of flowers. m6 a requiem. Gathered in twilight hours, And let the three unite Their vigils day and night Beside his early grave ! And first let Memory tell Beneath the tolling bell His work was nobly done ! His life, though scarce begun, Was filled with earnest days, That follow him with praise, To crown his early grave ! And next let Love declare How sweet, and good, and f;Tir His soul, and heart, and mind ! How true a friend and kind ! And what bright hopes arc crossed, And earthly fame is lost. Hid in his early grave ! And last let Sorrow say "We mourn him night and day! Vet while with holy trust ^^'c guard his sacred dust A REQUIEM. 147 A light from Heaven begun Falls brighter than the sun To bless his early grave ! Let night winds whisper sweet, And birds their songs repeat ! And there let violets grow, And roses white as snow ! And thro' the days and years Let dews descend like tears Above his early grave ! 148 EMBLEMS. 'J'HE shining light discovers The deepness of the shade; We sigh the more in sadness 'lo hear the song of :gladness; The quarrel of the lovers Seems harsh when peace is made; It is the light discovers Tlie deepness of the shade. A Ijreath creates the bubble, Dissolving at a breath; In merry peals and knelling, The selfsame bells are telling Of blessing and of trouble, Of bridal, biilh. and death; So lloats and fades the bubble. The bubble of a breath. The faithless swallows leave us When gloomy days begin; EMBLEMS. t49 We live and love together Through glad and glowing weather; The smiling lips deceive us With words that woo and win; Our friends betray and leave us When darker days begin. The fair and fragrant roses Are found on thorny stems; We hate the sins we cherish; In pain our pleasures perish; Our foolish nature closes With evil it condemns; Our hands are full of roses, But wounded with the stems. The tide with useless swelling Resounds upon the beach; Wc pass the day in sorrow And dream of joy to-morrow; Our hopes are ever dwelling On bliss beyond our reach; The tide of life is swelling To die upon the beach. The autumn winds are sighing Where yellow leaves descend ; T-o EMBLEMS, Our joys are evanescent ; The future mocks the present; The hours are winged and Hying ; This Hfe in death will end; The mournful winds are sighing Where withered leaves descend. Is there no type of heaven For US on earth below? The stars their watch are keeping: For sleepless eyes and sleeping Their gentle light is given As through the gloom they glow ; So may wc find in heaven The light we seek below ! I5J "VIVE L'EMPEREUR!" (A Reverie in the Chapel of the Invalides, Paris.) '• yiVE rEmpereur!'' Methinks I see The stern grand face before me now; The steadfast eyes, the raven hair Sweeping the broad majestic brow ! " Vive r Enipereur !'" Upon his lips The smile of triumph proudly sits, As the unclouded sun surveys His hosts encamped at Austerlitz ! " Vive TEinpereur !''' in thunder rolled Through the dense mist of sulphurous smoke, As on the squares at Elchingen Ney's furious squadrons fiercely broke ! " Vive PEinpereur!" The challenge- cry Rose high on Jena's battle field : 152 '' VIVE VEMPEREURr* What time before our bayonets bright The routed Prussians backward reeled ! " Vive rEfjipereiir .'" Wrapt round with flame Great Moscow's mighty ramparts glow: Whilst the long columns of retreat Stretch far across the waste of snow! " Vive V Empcreur P' At Montereau Still frowning stands the famous Bridge : How ceaselessly the iron storm Beat on that blackened shattered ridge ! " Vive VEinpereur!'' " Vive rEmpereur!" The cry goes ringing to the sky As on the volleying British squares Ney's horsemen dash, recoil, and die ! " Vive rEj/ipcreur I" Behold the end Of all his splendour, pomp, and pride: A sea-girt rock to mark the spot Where the earth-shaker drooped and died ! " Vive PEmpereiir!" — but let that pass! Where bannered trophies mutely wave, Our souls a solemn silence keep Beside the mighty contjueror's grave ! 153 THE CROSS OF THE LEGION OF HONOUR. (Spoken by a Veteran of the Old Guard to a youthful Conscript.) T TROD the white and scorching sands Beneath the fierce Egyptian suns, What time the Arab riders swept With whirhng sabres on our guns ! I saw the flag-ship's fiaming wreck Rush up aloft witli thunder sound ; The billows of the boiling bay Were black with fragments all around ! 1 led the stormers to the bread i At Acre on that fatal day : ** Vive rEinpereiir /" our bayonet charge Soon cleared a passage through, the fray ! At famed Marengo — sore beset — Oiu- droupuig eagles fluttered low : 154 THE CROSS OF THE Like music pealed the crashing charge Of Kellerman upon the foe! My eyes beheld the morning sun On tented Austerlitz arise ; The glowing splendours of the d;nvn Flung sudden glory through the skies ! The battle smoke at Jena hung In sombre masses overhead; The bearskin shakos of the Guard Towered high above the Prussian dead ! It was in Russia that I won The decoration of the Cross; In shrouds of snow our bravest slept : What glory could redeem their loss ? Like famished wolves upon our track The yelling Cossacks gathered near ; One savage sought the Marshal's breast: My lifted arm received the spear ! Look, Conscript, at this precious Cross- Napoleon placed it where you see; LEGION OF HONOUR. A sling sustained my shattered arm — And thus the Emperor spake to me : " My comrade ! " — and the hght of praise Shone in the proud imperial glance — "Wear this in memory of the deed Which saved a life so dear to France ! "The Cross becomes thee well, mon brave!' And, as I bent in reverence low, His hand went up in grave salute, And raised the chapeau from his brow ! I heeded not the wild applause In stormy thunders rolling on : I only heard those thrilling words ; I only saw Napoleon ! Now harken, Consciipt, to this last And darling boon that I must crave See none disturbs this sacred Cross When I am laid within my grave — That when the ringing blast of doom Shall rouse the sleepers from their rest, I, Sergeant Victor, still may wear The Cross of Honour on my breast ! 155 ^56 thp: old guard at Waterloo. QOAIRADES, remember Austerlitz ! '\\'hat cause have we to fear Their fiercest shock of crashing horse When Bonaparte is licre? Remember liow the Cossacks charged : Those stern words thrill me yet : How sharp they rang: '•'■ Halte ! genou tcrre! Croisscz la bdionette /" ]s.emcmbcr how we climbed the Alps, Whose summits gleamed with snow: How gladsome lay the smiling fields Of Italy l)clow ! Remember old Marengo : How red the great plain ran! No Lritish horsemen ever charged Like those of Kellcrman ! THE OLD GUARD AT WATERLOG. 157 No Marshal brave as Kellerman, The valiant and the true, Who carved a path to victory And bore the eagles through ! Remember grim old Davoust, Bronzed by Egyptian suns : How shook the ground at Auerstadt Beneath the thundering guns ! Remembei Moscow's mighty walls Wrapped round with fiery flame : How fast upon our drooping ranks Those wolfish Russians came ! Remember famous Montereau : The havoc and the death : How swift the squares were swept away By the hot volley's breath ! Hark — how the shouts of "Victory!" Come swelling on the gale : But shall the A'etcrans of France, Whc fought at Jena, (^uail ? 158 THE OLD GUARD AT WATERLOO. The furious onslaught we await With dauntless mien and high : The grand Old Guard can never yield : The hour has conie to die ! 159 MARSHAL NEY. (Shot December 7th, 1S15.) TTIS glorious body lies at last In a dishonoured grave : The Hero of five hundred fights, " The bravest of the brave ! " At Elchingen, in fire and smoke, Long raged the doubtful fray : How swift the Austrians fled before The thunder-charge of Ney ! Old Erfurt's granite bastions grim Of his great name shall tell : How trod beneath his trampling horst Her staunch defenders fell ! But Magdeburg a sterner tale lias of her Gallic foes : i6o MARSHAL NEY, What time upon the battle breeze The pas de charge arose J At Deppen still, with whitened lips, The story shall be told: How on the fated Prussian squares His proud battalions rolled ! His conquering columns, rushing on, Spurned the red heaps of slain : Those Russian soldiers never fought At Koningsburg again ! To Waterloo, his latest field, Great France her Ilcro calls: In vain his furious squadrons swept \}\)QW those flaming walls ! T/icre set Napoleon's niighry star In night of blackest dun : That star which rose on Auslcrlitz A sudden, dazzling sun ! The Garden of the Luxembourg — () snildrtt srrne of all ! — MARSHAL NEY. i6i Beheld the bravest son of France, Her grandest soldier, fall ! Alone in that December dawn To death he proudly trod : His voice rang out the firing-word Which sent his soul to God ! Shot like a traitor ! thrust away In a dishonoured grave ! The Hero of five hundred fights ! " The bravest of the brave ! " K i6: PLEVNA, 1877. 'PHE cloud of horror darkly falls Around thy scorched and shattered walls Yet lift thine eyes cast down, And take thy fadeless crown ! Thy Hero, Ghazi Osman, he Whose name is great with victory, Henceforth thro' all the days Of Time is thine to praise ! Thy deathless Hero, great alone In simple duty nobly done : How nobly and how well Let future Ages tell ! For when shall deeds like his expire? They fill the hearts of men with fire ! And fadeless is the crown By Ages handed down I 163 THE KING'S MESSENGER. 'PHE red glow of morning had tinged the grey sky, When across the wide country, my charger and I, Hot pressed by the roundheads, rode reckless and fast ; But three miles to Oxford — how long will it last ? The wall rises grimly — the torrent is deep — I drew my breath harder, and dashed at the leap ; One shout of defiance — one touch of the spur — We're over! — ho, crop-ears, come on if ye dare! Their steeds spring out wildly, and plunge in the flood ; Each roundheaded rider is rolling in mud : I doffed my plumed hat, with a parting " good day ;" Then, wheeling my charger, rode swiftly away. SACRED POEMS. 1 66 "FOR SO HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." QWEET is the silent night when day is done ; Sweet is the starHght : sweeter than the sun ; And sweet in death t!ie dreamless slumber deep ''For so He giveth His beloved sleep." Our eyes wax weary when the daylight dies, And sweet is slumber to our weary eyes ; And softly do the shadows round us creep : " For so He giveth His beloved sleep." The landscape, lovely with the light of spring No blessedness to broken hearts can bring. In which the anguish only wakes to weep : Wherefore, " He giveth His beloved sleep." The vain delight, with canker at the core. The sharp distress, shall visit them no more ; To joy or grief no more their pulses leap : "For so He giveth His beloved sleep." ''HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." 167 In place of pain He givetli perfect ease : A restful haven after raging seas — Where angry waves and winds no longer sweep : " For so He giveth His beloved sleep." Sweet is their sleep beneath the summer skies ; Sweet is their sleep when storms of winter rise ; And sweet the watch which guardian angels keep : " For so He giveth His beloved sleep," But He Who gives them sleep shall give them grace To rise in rapture and behold His face, When that last trumpet echoes loud and deep : Till then, " He giveth His beloved sleep.'' 1 68 "THOU KNOWEST NOT NOW!" OUR troubles fade, but leave their trace; And years of toil and care With lines of sorrow mar the face That once was fair ! O would that we could feel and know That grief is sent in Love, To wean our hearts from earth below To God above! O would that we could understand, And calm would follow strife ! O would our eyes could see the Hand That guides our life ! For tht n our feet would choose the way That now we strive to shun : And, full of praise, our hearts would pray, "Thy Will be done!" 169 " SEEK YE MY FACE ! " QEF^K ye My face. The world will bring No real joy to thee ; For joy is of the living Spring That flows from Me. Child of My love ! hast thou no care To heed this call of Mine, And in thy human life to share The Life divine ? Behold, I left My throne for thee, My Father's house above, And stooped to all thy misery In boundless love ! And I have sought thy love's return : And saved by dying grace. The love of all thy soul should yearn To seek My face ' "FOR ME TO LIVE IS CHRIST, TO DIE IS GAIN." 'PHE faltering fingers touch uncertain strings : Of love, of earthly love, the poet sings — Of love, when doubt assails, so quickly slain ; O words of love which speak diviner things ! " For me to live is Christ, to die is gain." The gold of autumn turns to ashen grey ; The dirge of hope remains from day to day The burden of our songs, the sad refrain ; Till smiling lips at last have learnt to say, '• For me to live is Christ, to die is gain." John, leaning on the bosom of the Lord, And ever listening for the whispered word, Found rest and peace in weariness and pain; Love is its own exceeding great reward : " For me to live is Christ, to die is gain." " TO LIVE IS CHRIST, TO DIE IS GAIN.' 1 7 1 In Jesus the Divine and human meet, The harmonies of Ufe are made complete, The wailing minors cease to vex the strain, The varying chords awake in music sweet — " For me to live is Christ, to die is gain." When shadows deepen in the dying light. When sunset glory fades in gloomy night, His shining stars shall make my pathway plain, His hand in mine shall guide my steps aright, "For me to live is Christ, to die is gain." 172 "I STAND AT THE DOOR AND KNOCK!" "T STAND at the door and knock!" It is bolted and barred ; I have stood many years, I have waited with tears, And thy heart is still hard ; The door to Mv summons is bolted and barred. " I stand at the door and knock ! " 1 am waiting for you ; I have loved as a Friend Who loves to the end. And the cold and the dew Descend on Me waiting in ])atience for you. " I stand at the door and knock ! " Will you open to Me ? In mercy and love I came fiom above, And I died on the Tree ; And will you not harken and open to Me? ' ' / STAND A T THE DOOR <^ KNOCK / " 173 "I stand at the door and knock!" 1 am bringing the Hght ; There is darkness within And sorrow for sin : And My presence is bright AVith the joy of Salvation, and I am the Light. " I stand at the door and knock ! "' And My summons is heard : For conscience has made Thy sjjirit afraid ; And thy sorrow is stirred. And mourns for the past, and My summons is heard. " I stand at the door and knock ! " My Redeemer come in ! I open the door, That closes no more In rebellion and sin ; My Lord and my Life : my Redeemer come in : •74 "OUR FATHER." HTHY ways, O God, though hid, will tend, Marked out in love, to some good end; Be Thou our Guide, and in the night, Lest we should stray, be Thou our Light ! We come as children, needing all The sweetest words that sweetly fall ; We hear Thy voice and, hearing, we Are fain in faith to follow Thee! We once were vain of heart, and found, Strong in ourselves, no certain ground ; But now, at last, have learnt and seen How sweet it is to trust and lean ! O lead us, we are prone to stray ; Be Thou our Guide, be Thou our Way; O let us hear Thy voice, and we Will trust Thy love and follow Thee ! 175 "GIVE ME THINE HEART!" " Q.IVE Me thine lieart!" When life was younf That summons gently came,. With Jesus in the songs I sung The sweetest name. And God still called. The endless day Was in its early noon, With hours that beckoned far away : It was too soon. O love Divine ! the grief, the tears, The Life laid down for me, And my return of sinful years, Estranged from Thee ! O late repentance ! I resign \Vhat Thou hast made Thine own, And all my heart's best love is Thine, And Thine alone ! I 76 "LOVEST THOU ME?" LOVEST thou Me? Arc friends growing cold And losing their hold On affections set free From loving the creature to love the Creator, to centre in Me ? Lovest thou Me ? The sheep that were Mine Were ninety and nine ; But one I could see Far off on the mountain in danger, one sheep that was dear unto Me. Lovest thou Me? The hireling will sleep, Nor care for the sheep ; The hireling will flee ; Hill 1 am the Shepherd AVIio sought thee, My sheep thai luid wandered from Me. '' LOVEST THOU ME?" 177 Lovest thou Me ? When the morning was bright, And no shadow of night Had fallen on thee, Thy heart was not happy, forgetting thy Saviour, forgetful of Me. Lovest thou Me ? When the light of the day Began to decay. And thy trouble could see No gleam in the darkness, in mercy that darkness had fallen from Me. Lovest thou Me? Thou art weary of sin. And the light enters in ; And happy for thee, Thrice happy the angels of heaven for one who is coming to Me. Lovest thou Me? O answer My call ! And the burden will fall, And thy spirit set free Will rest from its labour and sorrow, and find its redemption in Me. 178 IN SIMON'S HOUSE. QHE kissed, she bathed the Saviours feet With tears, she wiped them with her hair ; Bowed down with grief, the faith was sweet That filled her heart with prayer. They looked, reclining at their ease, And knew her, and their scorn increased ; The haughty Scribes and Pharisees, They watched Him at the feast. For their self-righteous souls sufficed The scorn that would as lightning fall ; O Friend of sinners, Jesus Christ, Thy grace is free for all ! He speaks in pardon. Who but He Could so confirm the faith that trod In paths ilial turned from misery And sin, and turned lo God? 179 OUR HOME ABOVE. T70R all who sigh with pain opprest, Whose hearts are wounded sore, There is a home of joy and rest, There is an open door. That door of mercy open stands — And free from grief and sin, And glad at heart from many lands, The nations enter in. O happy in a happy place ! They lay their burdens down — The cross they bore a little space Exchanging for the crown. O faces pale and worn with grief I O eyes that weep below ! O blessed hope of that relief Which God will soon bestow ! i8o FORGIVENESS. r) GOD, forgive the years and years Of worldly pride and hopes and fears ; Forgive, and blot them from Thy book, The sins on which I mourn to look. Forgive the lack of service done For Thee, thro' life, from life begun ; Forgive the vain desires to be All else but that desired by Thee. Forgive the love of human praise. The first false step in crooked ways, The choice of evil and the night, The heart close shut against the light. Forgive the love that could endure No cost to bless the sad and poor; Forgive, and give me grace to see The Life laid down in love for me. i8i THE NEW EXCELSIOR. ■ On the )-oarii!g billows of Time thou art 7iof engulfed, but borne aloft into the azure of Eternity. Love tiot pleasure ; love God." Sartor Resartus T ET us ascend, why do we linger here ? Lo, in their marshalled millions, sphere on sphere. Stars mount on stars, like joys that have no end ! Lo, crushed by crowding sorrows, year by year, Vain is our life below, the years we spend ; Let us ascend ! O soul cast down and sad, hast thou no wings? Why on the dust of earth and creeping things That choose the darkness does thy vision bend? The heaven of heavens is thine ; the King of kings, And Lord of lords, thy Father is and Friend ; Let us ascend ! 1 82 THE NEW EXCELSIOR. O still, thro' stress and storm, a little while, Be ours, Eternal hope, that we may smile. Though pains take hold of life, and sorrows rend! Not as the hopes of earth that here beguile, But ours to whisper sweet — when earth shall end — " Let us ascend ! " / -^ THE LIBRARY JINIVERSnr OF C ArjFORNI LOS Angeies This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. \ WAY 31 1958 Form L9-100m-9.'52(A3105)444 -,.- '•''■'?,'■■•■ ■v^f: '^?. PR U639 ElUp AA 000 379 269 4