4452 fciM for %m 3saklla &ull:0E, m THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^0cm$ for |30me Isabella Caulton, AUTHORESS OF TH3 "])01IEST1C HEARTH, AND OTHER POEMS. " ESfjatsoebcr ge io, tjo all to tljt (Eflorg of ©oil," ilfamington Spa: PRINTED BY RICHARD RUSSELL, SPE'TCER STREET. 1851. TO «- r» .11. r» .*,, r ««A ,»; c-..» K o r* «» r» <^ o V» «. ♦<• *i. 3» "Kj ♦ - <« » . »<■ O <^ ;*; iMw HI H^ M>l UW iidW \i^ WW W Mi^ W^ WVI M lil^ I IS M06T AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, BY 8536C8 :^ wilful M'^^^ A litde volume like the i)resent one, that so Lmraedistely speaks for itself, demands few v.c)rds from its Author. To acknowledge,, v.ith many thanks, the kindly efforts made for its snccess hy the many, and the luitiiing sym- pathy and friend^,hip shewn by the few, is a pleasant and gratefid task. Veiy earnestly does the Authoress offer this acknowledgement to each and all of her subscribers, including those whose names slie is very soiTy came too late for insertion in the printed list. Warwick. Tult, ]><')l. Appleton, Miss, Prestwich Adshead, Mr. Lark Hill, ilacclesfield Adshead, Mr. J., ditto (2 copies) Allen, Mr. Joseph, ditto Allen, Mr. Henry, ditto Allen, Mr. James, ditto Bondier, Rev. A., St. ^Farv's ^Varwick (2 copies) Boswell, Miss, Warwick (4 copies* Baker, Mrs., "Warwick BiUTOw, James, Esq., Prestwich i5 copies) Beutlev, Mrs., Hertford (6 copies) Bentley, Miss, ditto ditto Baker, Mrs. F., Tnnbridge Bindloss, Mr. R., ^Manchester (10 copies) Biudloss, ^frs., Buile Hill, Manchester Biudloss. Miss, ditto, ditto Biudloss, Mrs. B., Gore Hill, Manchester Besvvick, Mrs., Macclestield t3 copies) Baldwin, Mr. J., Warwick Bramhall, Mr., Castletou Cottage, lloclulale Barnes, j\Irs., Bollington (2 copies) Brayshay, Mrs., Bradford (2 copies) Braithwaite, 'Mrs. G., Plunitree Hall, West- moreland Biiseiuleu, [Miss, Tiuibridge (6 copies) Briggs, Mr. J., ^Manchester (2 copies^! Bindloss, Mr. G., ditto BrowTi, Mrs., Saltislbrd. "Wanvick Belcher, Charles, Esq., Wanvick Carles, Rev. C. E., Warwick (2 copies) Cardall, Rev. W^, Myton Clay, Rev. E., Leamington Cassan, Captain, Warwick (2 copies) Colville, J. M., Esq. Spring Cottage, Mac- clesfield Colville, Mrs., ditto, ditto Cotton, Mrs., Curwen Woods, Westmoreland Clark, J. P., Esq., Leamington Chadwick, ]Mr., jManchester Cole, Mr. R., Warwick CoUier, Mrs., ditto Critolph, Mrs., Leamington Cotton, Mrs. Wm., Elmsfield, Westmoreland Darwall, Mrs., Warwick I)avis, Mrs., ditto SI.BSCRIBEBS. Bean, Mrs. ditto Donaldson, Mr. L, Warwick Evenden, Mrs., Tonbridge Farr, Mrs., AVarmck {2 copies) Freelaud, Mr. R., Manchester (10 copies) French, ^Irs., Warwick Fisher, the ^lisies, Haverbrack Cottage, West- moreland, (3 Copies) Greeuway, Mrs., Warwick (2 copies) Greenway, IMrs. G. C, ditto Goodwin, Mr., Rochdale Godwin, Mr. H., Macclesfield (2 copies) Godwin, ih. G., ditto Grimstou, Mrs. Douglas House, Leamington Gaudy, Mrs., Birthwaite House, Windermere Hilton, Rev. H. D., Warwick (2 copies) Harris, Rev. R. B., Warwick Hariis, Mrs., ditto Hill, Rev. J. 0., Bledington Hudson, !Mrs., Haverbrack, W^estmoreland (5 copies) Harrison, Miss, Kendal Hutton, Mrs., Beetham, (2 copies) IliUier, Mr., W^arwick Harris, Miss, ditto Higginbotham, Mr. Thos., Manchester Harding, Mrs., Prestwich Holme, Mrs., ditto Hodgson, Mrs., ditto SUBSCRIBERS. Hudson, ;Mr. J., Larch How, Kendal [2 copies) Jewliurst, Miss, Tuubridge Lloyd, Mrs., Stank Hall (2 copies) Lloyd, Miss, Leamington Ludlow, Mrs., Manchester (3 copies) Lowe, Miss, ditto Lynch, D., Esq., ditto Lamb, Mr., ditto (5 copies) Lumley, Mrs., Leamington Leek, Mrs., ditto Lewis, Mr., Emscote ^Molludy, ^Iis., Marble House, Warwick (2 copies) Moore, Mrs. J., ^^ar^vick Mee, Mrs., ditto Maycock, Mr., ditto Mallory, Mr., ditto Moser, Mrs. Blindbeck House, Kendal (6 copies) Muun, Mrs. J., Prestwich Munn, Miss M., ditto Morton, Mrs., Manchester (2 copies) ]\Iitchell, Mr., Macclesfield (2 copies) Molyueux, Miss Leamington Norbmy, ^Ir., .^fanchester (5 copies) i^icholson, .Mis., London i4 copies i Otway. Mrs., Leamington Proudtbot, Tlios , Esq., M.D., Kcndnl h rnpies) Periy, Mrs, '\\'arwick SUBSCRIBhaS. Piiace, Mr. W., Castletou Rakowski, Mrs., Manchester Koberts, T., Esq., ditto Rea, Captain, \Varnick Ringrose, Miss, ditto Riley, Mr. W., Rochdale Smith, Rev., E. T., St. Paul's, Warwick. Summerfield, Miss, Warwick Steele, Mr. H., Warwick Stephenson, Mr., J., Manchester (12 copies) Souter, Mr. M., Castleton Sadler, Mr. J. R., Macclesfield (2 copies) Swanwick, Mr., Presthury (3 copies) Thexton, J. Y., Esq., Ashton Terrace, West- moreland (5 copies) Thexton, Mrs., ditto Thexton, Miss, Liverpool, (5 copies) Thompson, H., Esq., Homer Terrace, Man- chester (2 copies) TurnbuU, Mr. W., Manchester (2 copies) Tibbitts, Mrs. J., My ton Toppey, Mrs., Saltisford, Warwick Taylor, Mr. J., Warwick Townshend, Mrs., Leamington Turner, Mrs. J., Prestwich Watson, Rev. J. R., St. Nicholas, Warwick, (5 copies) Woods, Rev. C. T., Warwick, (2 copies) SUBSCKIBtKS. "Wihnshurst, Miss, ditto "Whitehead, Miss, ditto (2 copies) AYoodyatt, Mr. R., ditto Wyver, Mr., ditto WoodGeld, Mr., ditto Waite, Mrs., Tunbridge Walmsley, Mr., Prestwich "Woodhouse, Mrs. E., Leamington Wilson, Miss, Macclestield (4 copies) "VVallis, ^Ir. J., Castletou (2 copies) "Wilson, Tlios., Esq., Canada Walker, Mr., RadclitFe Bridge "Wood, Mr. S., Manchester Wilson, N'iss Maria, Kendal Wilson, Miss, Dallam Tower, ^^cstmorelaud (2 copies) Wilson, George, Esq., Dallaiu ToAver Biudloss, Miss., Macclesfield (10 copies) Fowler, ^Irs., ditto (2 copies) Birchivall, Mrs., ditto Lord, Miss., Buile Hill, Manchester Dans, Mr. W., Warrington Ralfs, Miss., Chuich House, Tunbridge Ralfs, Edward, Esq., Tavistock Place , Loudon jpoi^MS IF €)iE mmm. I -wooed thee timidly, ^vhen life, To me was bright and new ; When rich were all the fantasies Thy airy pencil drew ; And thou didst answer to my call, In distant tones, tho' musical. And thou wert with me, when the dreams Of youth, stretched wide and high, When Passion spoke her thrilling words ; And over earth and sky. Was spread that gorgeous painted screen, That lies thy spells, and life, between. ]4 POEMS FOR HOME. Oh ! sweet have been the cominiinings, Which thou hast borne -^'ith me, By ripplmg brook, on sloping hill, And 'neath the spreading tree : While wild birds carolled in their mirth, And life was joyous upon earth. And Poesy, thou comest now. With a holier spell, and true. For years have taught me heartfelt lore, Which early youth ne'er knew ; Have given me a wiser thought, And humbling trustfulness have taught. Oh ! life's long years but often bring Cold-heartedness and fear ! Doubtings, of what in bygone time Our hearts had leaped to hear ; And old, and older, seems our soul, Than o'er our heads, the seasons roll. Yet Poesy, there's many a spell. Thy power may still entwine ; And many a tale thy spirit tell, That joy will bring to mine ; Freely thy treasures yet may pour. From out thy full and boundless store. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 15 For wheresoe'er a floweret grows, Or spreads a forest tree, Where'er the runiimg waters make A pleasant harmony, Where mountains rise their giant steep, And wild winds thro' their caverns sweep, — Wherever love hath traced its might, Or human heart hath striven ; Or holy spire in silence points A pathway unto heaven. There Poesy, thou hast a home ; From thence let tmthful music come. 16 POEMS FOR HOME. Affection's ties cease not witli life, They are but liidden ; the golden links last still. But so refined become, by Immortality So spiritualized, that the world sees them not. It is a summer eve, aud all is still, Save the low murmurs of a triclding rill. That winds its tiny way, now hid, now seen, Leaving bright verdure, where its drops have been ; Soft bends the tall grass to the waving air, And rich the scent of many a blossom fair; The meadow-sweet her foam-like petals spreads. The ruddy loosestrife bows her clustered heads ; With fainter fragrance, paler tints arrayed, The wild rose blossoms in the hedge's shade, BY ISABELLA CACLTON. 17 And where the waters through the mosses giish, Gleam the pink buckbean, and the floweiing rush. From the rich meadows stretching far away, Comes up the fragrance of the new-mown hay, Among the lime-tree's scented boughs is heard, The thrilling song of evening's lonely bird ; While in the sky, with gold and crimson spread. The glorious Sun-god, seeks his western bed; Around his state, there He in gorgeous fold, Rich floating clouds, of purple and of gold ; Softly he sinks, while dark, and darker still, Shades the steep outhne of the distant hill ; Fainter and paler, glows the ether blue, As the last gleam of light is lost to view : Then in her swathing robes of sober grey, Twilight proclaims, past is another day ! Here on a bank, beneath a spreading tree, Whose green leaves rustle to the south- wind free : 18 POEMS FOR HOME. I meditate on many a long past hour, While vanish'd joys, come back with memory's power ; Spirits glide gently by on angel wings, And each fair visitant, her relic brings ; Of joyance past 'tis true, those offerings are, But of life's purest, which time cannot mar. Eyes glisten near me in their dewy light. Loved voices speak, and with the shadowy night. Forms that once walked in love and kind- ness here. Come back as seraphs from a holier sphere ; And one there is with eyes of liquid blue, With brow as spotless as the lily's hue. Her accents float upon the southern air. And gentle comfort to my sad heart bear. " Sister! thou hast mourned long, bent down with sorrow's flow. From thy sunken cheek and eye, is gone youth's ruddy glow, Yet strive, a little, Sister strive, Love, true love is vet alive ! BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 19 " "When thy heart is nigh to break, and sharper is grief 's sting, Know'st thou that angels stand beside with heahng on their wing ? Then sweet Sister, strive, ah I strive, Pure love jet is left alive ! " I bring our father's blessing down, our mother's gentle word, And as I breathe them in thine ear, is not thy full heart stirr'd '? Upward look sweet Sister ! ever ! True love dieth, never ! never I" Faintly the Seraph fades in viewless air, And bending forward, lo I another there ! White floating robes around his form are spread, And Age's locks, are scattered on his head; The Sacramental cup his hand retains And holy balm his earnest speech contains. " Thou hast not seen, thou dost not know, What things are stored on high, For those who've drunk the living draught From streams that never die. '20 POEMS FOB HOME. •' Thou hast not seen, thou canst not tell What glorious homes are there, For those who tiiisting all, loved more, The more their trials were. " When the Lord maketh up his crown Of je^Yels hid from men, Think humble Christian, what thy joy And what thy triumph then !" And so, he passeth ! while on Avings of light, Bright spirits gleam before my raptur'd sight. With radiant looks, raised hands that point above. And voices singing sweet, " Love ! God is Love!" Passed! all are passed! the angel guests are gone, And I come back to waking life, alone ; Again to struggle o'er its toilsome way. To wait with patience thro' eaith's darkest day; BY ISABELLA CAULTON. Q 1 But from these Yisious of a summer eve, Blessings still linger, strength that will not leave ; More purely glide I, down life's turbid stream, With light still shining, from that angel dream ; Safer its shoals to pass, its rocks to shun. Till the long hidden goal at length is won ; Till the dark clouds of Earth shall roll away, Before the bursting light of Heaven's Eter- nal Day ! 22 POEMS FOE HOME. FROM " LOVE AND LIFE," AN UNFINISHED POEM. " Oh ! Love and Life ! strauge meetings have ye." I. Too late ! Too late ! a withering thought to pass, Across the heart all full of yearning love ; Hopes disappearing as sunlight from grass, Where shadowy clouds obscure the hght above ; Oh ! tears will fall, and heart-strings strain to break, When Life brings all, save one, who ne'er can wake. Too late ! we toil to climb the rough ascent, That leads, we fondly think, to Glory, Fame ! We crush the flowers that o'er our pathway bent, And would have wooed us to a purer aim ; BY ISABELLA CAULTON. Q3 Alas I the point, if gained, but rudely shews, How vain we dreamed, when seeking there repose. Years pass in silence, and we start to find. Our hearts grown aged, ere our locks are grey; The early glow of friendship for our kind, The joys, fresh springing from youth's boundless day, The pure, self-springing faith, that conquers fate. Are missed, and sighing sought for, but too late. But most of all, the homely, God-sent love. That watches patiently our onward coiu'se, How soon its clinging tendrils are unwove, By the wild rushing of the worlds mad force ! How soon we treat it lightly ! pass it by ! And yield the bliss 'twould give, without a sigh I 24 POEMS FOR HOME. And 'tis not Passion, with its headlong will, That rends so recklessly our earlier ties, 'Tis not the eager search for young Love's thrill, That makes us slight the True, that round us lies ; But stern amhition's rise, the thirst for pelf, Chilling the heart, till man might scorn himself ! In a sweet dell, within whose tangled shade. The briar roses lent their fresh perfume, Where the clear brook its merry music made, And early sunbeams, the green bank illume. Two brothers sate, and on each happy face, Was radiant youth enthroned with rosy grace. Together, they had climbed the grassy hill. Together, wandered 'neath the forest bough. And lovingly they communed with one will, As in their chosen haunts, they rested now ; BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 25 Thus sped the hours, with merry laugh and word, While deep affection their young bosoms stirr'd. Yet were they difTerent; one, with eager eye, Scanned the wide world, wherein to find a path ; Would dare with unblanched cheek, and valiantly, The sea-wave's anger, or the battle's wrath ; The other, dreamed, in tender, pensive mood. And sought the student's life of solitude. At last they parted; summers went and came, And golden corn waved on the spreading lea; And hoary winter with his meny game, And Spring's first violet peeping modestly. 26 POEMS FOR HOME. All passed and passed again ; — but they came not, "Whose young lives once, were bounded by the spot. The aged died, and young ones took their place, And little children sprang to youth and love ; Others had entered on life's rapid race, And each one with another toiled and strove. To win the things he needed, ere the day. When he must leave his gains, and pass away. But 'mongst them all, those two familiar names. That rung with merry shout from rock and dell. Were there forgotten ! swallowed in the claims The world made for them ; haunts they knew so well, BY ISABELLA CAL'LTON. 27 Had other seekers ; but none cared to know, How fared the lost ones' paths, for weal or woe. II. A flush of beauty in a summer sky, With sunlight quivering thro' the leafy trees ; A sound of water's trickling melody Mingling its music with the scented breeze ; A garden, bright ^^ith shrub, and tree and flower, All breathing fragrance of the morning hour. An old church tower with ivy grown, and gi'ey, Eound which the swallows wing their wheeling flight, The rooks' loud cawing in the woods away, The chesnut trees ^^ith coronals so white ; All sights and sounds in harmony were blent, Each to the other, something beauteous lent. 28 POEMS FOR HOME. A home arose within this garden fair, Its whitened walls all gleaming in the sun; With windows opened to the balmy air, Laden with perfume it from flow'rs had won; Its rooms all full of rare and antique lore, And rich in learning's ever varied store. Beside a table at this quiet hour, An old man sate, with calm and placid mien ; His silver hair betokening time's power, And shewing what a gulf there lay, between Youth and old age ; the one, all sunny hued, All joy; the other, hopeful, but subdued. Before him lay full many a lettered page, Filled by the knowledge of the learned dead; The hoarded wisdom of the Grecian Sage, With his own island Poesy was spread ; Yet 'twas not on them that he bent him low, Or on their imagery he pondered now. BY I3ABELL.\ CAULTON, '49 But on old papers, yellow with long years Of close imprisonment; telling of the times Of happy youth; when knomng cares, nor fears, The days flew onwards to the merry chimes Of Hope, that spreading heritage, which knows No chilling bounds, nor dreadeth any foes. He read him records of a boy's bold deeds. Of wonders in the far off Indian clime ; Of many a boast of how the Good Ship speeds, Her way o'er trackless waters; tales sublime Of man's endurance, of the sinking deck, The broken mainmast, and the helpless wreck. A little sketch there was, by boyish hand, Of a tall vessel booming forth the gun, That told her venture for a foreign strand ; Another, showing that a fight was won ; 30 POEMS FOR HOME. And where thefoeman looked his flag to see, Floated the English Banner full and free. And shells all beauteous in their shadowy hues, And sea-weed dried and withered ; coral trees Some pale, some blushing; eggs of wild sea-mews, Fragments of rock where dashed the stormy seas ; All mingled with those breathings of fond words, That spring from heart, to heart, as song from birds. Oh ! how his pale face quivered as he read ! How dashed he quick aside the blinding tear ! Were these mementos of the cherished dead? Or memory's waymarks thro' the mist of years ? 'Twas Love, and Memor}^ here their trea- sures cast, And message brought the Present from the Past. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 31 " Too long the world hath been between ! too long Its shadow hid the path of each to other ; I will go forth and seek thee, e'en among The throng of men, the city's din, my Brother I " So rose he in his love, like youth renewed, And from his quiet home his way pui'sued. III. 'Twas evening — Through a to^Ti's long dusty street, A wearied stranger took his lonely way ; He heeded not the tread of rapid feet. Nor push of numbers passing; day on day He far had journeyed; rest,nor pause knew he, But onwards pressed, still onwards, anxiously. At length he came unto the home of one. Whose daring heart had gained for him a name, Honour, and praise, he from the world had won, And men thought of him when they spoke of fame ; 32 POEMS FOR HOME. Bravest when all were brave, his deeds had grown Into the very watch-word of renown. And wealth he'd gathered, wealth and spoil from foes, With warlike trophies, royal gifts, and all The gauds and splendour which success e'er knows The world to give it ; proudly round his hall Hung paintings gleaming to the gazer's sight, Himself the hero of the pictured fight. But honours, wealth, and trophies, could not win One hour from Death's sure strides: the ringing tone Heard in its clearness o'er the battle's din, The fearless tread, the powerful arm, were gone ; And for the strength to \vdeld the fatal brand. Lay an enfeebled form, a palsied hand. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 33 But as liis numbered hours passed slo\^ly on, And Death came gently with his footsteps sure ; When strivings '^ith the outer world were done, And earthly hopes, ^vaned hourly fainter, fewer ; Came there no visions of his early joy ? Xot one remembrance of a happy Bov, T\Tio bounded o'er the green fields in his glee ■? Clove the blue waters for the lily flower? Climbed the frail branches of the tallest tree. Or the grey ruins of a tottering tower ? And then upon the cool bank's mossy side, Read tales of Heroes, in their dash and pride '? Did no sweet record of a Brother young, Whose feet danced with him, in their merry play. Spring up I and breathe again, like lute fresh Strang, The antique poesy, the ballad lay, 34 POEMS FOR HOME. When side by side they watched the streamlet's flow, And sang the measured numbers soft and low? Oh ! yes, all these came back like vivid dreams, That fill the sleeper's vision; so that when His eyes unclose to meet the morning's beams, He scarce believes but they will come again, Nor fade away like devry mists that rise, And melt before the Sun-God of the skies. Oh ! Memory ! Love I and Life ! what mys- teries ye ! There lay upon that couch, to all around, But a pale figure, striving hopelessly In his last fight; and yet, what wells profound Of hidden feeling ! what a yearning love Stirred in the form, life scarce alone could move ! BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 35 Once more his heavy eyelids rose ; once more He gazed upon the waiting train who stood Silent beside ; a hushing awe stole o er And filled each heart ; a chastened prayerful mood, While dimly with his dark and shadowy wing, The Angel of the grave was hovering. There came beside that couch, an aged man, Bearing the burden of life's fourscore years ; His step was feeble, and his face was wan, But calm his brow, as free from human fears ; Peace, that most pure and perfect peace was there, Which God alone doth give, in answering Prayer. Mutely he stood, and gazed. There was no sound Save murmured breathings from the dying man. And yet that moment joined the Lost and Found ! S6 POEMS FOR HOME. — How like a dream appeared their life's long span ! — Old, worn, and feeble, one stood bj to see The ether passing to Eternity ! So met they once again I eye looked to eye, In mute inquiry ; but a clear voice spoke, Though trembling somewhat for the mastery, "I am thy Brother!" This the silence broke ; Oh ! Love ! one moment let thy golden band, Join heart to heart, as well as hand to hand ! "I am thy Brother!" Doth he hear it not? Are the dulled senses gone too faraway? Are all the dreams of boyhood's haunts forgot, And his eyes dimmer in their closing ray? 'Tis the last moment! will he never know, Who bendeth o'er him \sith a Brother's woe ? BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 37 Their aged hands are joined ; but only one Can feel the grasp the \Yithered fingers make ; Yet me^t they palm to palm, as days bygone, Full oft had seen ; Oh ! never more shall wake, That rush of joy, that soul-subduing thrill. Which, with emotion deep, the heart doth fill. Too late ! Too late I the folded ^nng of Death, Hath wrapped him in its still and cold embmce ; Too late I Too late I with weak and quiveiing breath, His spirit passes, from its "pride of place ; " Little remains for those who weep and pray, Only a senseless form of pallid clay. Once more they are divided, — Love and Life ! Scarce met they, and then parted ; Life went forth. 38 POEMS FOR HOME. And with him Hope, and Memory, so rife With pleasant dreams; and Fame, so little worth, Thought \Nith his train, his fairy web unwove. Ah ! nothing left, save weeping, trembling Love ! Canst not o'erleap the gulf thou mourner? say, Wilt always shed these sad and bitter tears ? Must Earth send daily shadows on thy way, And joy still stand aloof tho' years pass years ? Must " Farewell " ever from thy lips be spoken, And thy fond clinging heart, poor Love be broken ? Ah ! no, Ah ! no ; e'en now a vision comes, With streaming radiance pointing far away, BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 39 E'en noAv a whisper, tells of unseen homes, Where no 'Farewell' shall cloud their glorious day ; There, Love shall join ^vith Life nor severed be, Tho' age roll on to age through vast Eternity. ■iO POEMS FOR HOME. TQ Ht'ttl^ ^qntn on fjer JFirst Birtijtra^* A year of fear, and donbt and gloominess, A year of &till-deferred happiness, Of disappointment keen, and vain desire, Whose quickened pulses rose but to expire. A yeai' of labour, fruitless to obtain, By daily strivings, sleepless nights in vain. Of weak heart-shrinkings from the jostling race, Where feeble steps can never find a place, Is gone I So hath it sped ; yet rising mid its gloom, Came a sweet flow'ret, precious in its bloom, Wreathing its gentle tendrils round a road Strewed with the withered leaves of life's sere load : — BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 41 'Twas thou, my x\gnes I bud of life to me ! A fount of uucrushed joy, all welling free ; A golden link to hopes, not lost, tho' dim, A tone of music, in Love's varied hjmn ! From the first twining of the tiny rings Thy fingers made round mine ; touching the springs Of a sweet heart-emotion ; unto now, ^Yhen thou dost shout and leap with merry crow, And thy wee feet come toddling on the floor, Chiming sweet music as thou passest o'er ; Thy bright eyes glancing, blue as skies above. With young affection answering Love to Love, — Thou'st lain upon my heart I hast soothed its care Till round me seemed to float angelic aii', And gentle voices from a spirit-band, To bring sweet whispers of a brighter land I 4'2 POEMS FOR HOME. Dear One I come to me ! press thy little hand Upon my brow ; its touch shall be a wand, To drive off sorrow, smoothe away the lines, Her dimming pencil there, hath traced the signs. Ah ! may it be, that in some later years When life to me is hushed, and dried its tears, When the chill mists of death, around me rise, That same true hand may close my weary eyes ! Press thy dear face yet closer! kiss me sweet ! A touch tho' yet of Earth, for Angels meet ! Oh ! Thou, the Giver ! Saviour, Shepherd mild. With Thine own Spirit, bless my little Child ! BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 43 One is €^one. One is gone from the little band Of kindly hearts and time ; Who, heart to heart, and hand to hand, Love's " linked sweetness" drew. One is gone from the household prayer, "VMiere, gathered with bended knee. Those who were joined in the kindred knot With heavenly sympathy. From the sunny hill a step is missed, From our side hath ceased a tone, The smile with joy, the tear for woe, From us, alas I hath flown. 44 POEMS FOR HOME. Ever thus ! — Earth hath no place, No sheltered, treasured spot, Where Death, — dark angel of the grave, Life's shadow, cometh not, J'rom hall, from cot, from sheltered Lowe Palace, and shieling lone, Piseth, how often, the wild cry Of sorrow, — One is gone ! BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 45 TO HER FATHEE. " Love had he seen in huts." "VVordswoeth. To thee, my Father, should belong A daughter's votive lay. Could I but gather flowers of song, And wreathe a garland gay ; But though within my heart lies deep. Love without blot or stain, No lyre of muse, is mine to sweep. With a rich or lofty strain. Yet fain would I now sing to thee, Of the time long fleeted by. When on my steps of infancy. Glanced tenderly thine eye ; Of hours when with thy tones so mild. Thou gav'st at coming night, An evening blessing to thy child, A kiss, and kind " good night." 46 POEMS FOR HOME. Those days are passed ! for now, afar That child is toiling lone ; And many a grief has come to mar The little, youth had won ; But oh ! how oft could I have made Petition but to be, Again the happy girl who played Beside thy parent knee. Alas ! it is a sad, sad world, When poverty must creep Her way, 'mid tauntings on her hurled, And only rest to weep ! When partings, such as tear the heart, And rend its bonds in twain, Sever the links all wide apart. Of Love s enduring chain. And this my Sire, our lot has been, Struggles, all vainly tried, Joy's visionings but dimly seen, And hopes, that soon have died ; And on thine heart, and on thine eye, Hath grief her signet set, The wrinkles on thy cheek that lie, With sorrow oft been wet. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 47 Yet hatli not poverty the power All comforting to hide, For I do mind me of the hoiu' "WTien my poor mother died ; And memory yet can breathe the words From her pale Hps that came, " The God, who my poor prayers has heard, AVill list to yours the same I" Oh I father I though we meet no more, In this frail world of woe, Yet mercy points a happier sphere. Where dwells nor pain, nor sickly fear, As linger here below ; And He, my father, He, who lives In purity above. Will guide us there, for strength He gives, To those who humbly love. Father ! my words are well nigh done. My song is near its close ; My wild buds wither one by one, Their leaves all feebly close ! I do not trace these lines to thee To bid thee not forget, For weU I know in memory My name will linger yet. 48 POEMS FOR HOME. But father ! when the evening breeze Comes with its balmy spell, When sunset streams upon the trees, The light thou lov'st so well. When thy knee bends to words of pray'r With those w^io still dwell near thee there, In love pure, undefiled ; Then father, let one holy line. Be breathed before the Throne Divine For her, thy absent child. BY ISABELLA CAILTON. 49 Oje Call to ilrapcr- Come, 'tis the t^dliglit hour, Sunlight hath left the trees, And we will own its pow'r Low, on our bended knees ; Come, ye beloved, cast off household care, Bend, "tis the sunset, and the hour of prayer. Father, with thoughtful brow, Mother, with gentle eye, Think not of trouble now, All anxious fears put by ; Let no dark shadow fall on scene so fair, Come, 'tis the sunset, and the hour of prayer. Brother, with boyish glee And merry ringing strain, Sister, with bright locks free. Seek ye vour home again ; 50 POEMS FOR HOME. Come from the dingle, leave the blossoms there, And seek for Heaven's, 'tis the hour of prayer. Hush ! 'tis a quiet time, The daylight fades away, 'Neath the branches of our lime Bow ye the heart and pray ; Forget Earth's pleasures, leave her weary- ing care, Join ye beloved ones, in our Evening Prayer. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 51 Ci&ere's Solemn Silence* Theee's solemn silence round us, In the hush of calm midnight, In the sunset on the mountain, With its flood of golden light. There's solemn music sounding Down the old Cathedral aisle, A funeral dirge-note pealing, A King, lying dead the while. x\nd the thunder-storm at midnight ! With the lightening sharp and bright, Piiving the massive storm-cloud By its blue and forked light ; "WTien peal to peal is answered From mountain peak and glen. And echo hurls defiance back, Oh ! is't not solemn then ? 53 POEMS FOR HOME. And solemn is the roaring Of a black and angry sea, When its hissing waves beat in the earth So mad and furiously. And solemn is the moment When a sinful soul has fled, And amid the silent horror There lies the stony Dead. And the forest with its leafy aisles. The desert with no springs, The bell that tolls the felons doom, — Oh I these are solemn things ! But I will tell thee of a time Has been not, but will be, More terrible than all of these In its solemnity. A sound of Trumpet, but not breathed By human lips shall spread Its voice, 'mong all created things, Awakening the Dead ! Forth from Earth's gloomy sepulchres. From Ocean s hidden bed. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 53 From snovrs of ice-clad mountains, Where the battle-field was red, — - From where the martyrs' ashes, Or the "torn of beasts " were thrown, Wherever Death hath summoned, Or been heard a dying groan,—- All shall arise ! Oh 1 think awhile, Why bursteth tomb and sod '? It is that they who slumbered there 3Iust meet their Judge their God ! Oh I Pilgrim I who hast wandered long, Hast traversed land and sea, Come tell if Earth hath ever shewn A wonder like this fearful one, Of dread solemnity ,' 64 POEMS FOE HOME. m^e poet's Can " Come awaj, come away, to the birds and flowers, Come away to the fields and glen ; The brooks are full from the summer showers, And many a gem of the leafy bowers, Has sprung into life again ! " Come away from your cells, from your houses dark, From your noisy streets and dim, I will teach you lore from the song of the lark,' As he rises, and steadily wings to his mark, Light, light is the prize to him. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 55 "From the spreading hills soundeth forth a voice, Your souls shall delight to hear, Its burden is ever, rejoice ! rejoice ! For those vrho love me have made a choice "VMiich yieldeth nor pain, nor fear. Come away! " Thus sang the Poet ; but to his call There came but a little band, For many were bound in toilsome thrall, And many were busied with noisy brawl, Nor heeded his offered hand. And some there were, oh! the worst to see, T\Tio gazed writh a laugh or jeer. On their brow was written brutality. And they answered all nide, and scornfully, " We know not of such things here. "Xot for us, are the fields, and the singing birds. The light, or its liberty ! Xo sound of rejoice, in our homes is heard, Go thou to the rich, for of thee or thy word, No knowledge, or care have we !" 66 POEMS FOR HOME. And the Poet wept, as he turned aside, From this sight of his fellow men, *' But jet shall they rise ! there cometh a day, When Knowledge and Truth, with their steady ray. Shall enlighten this murky den ! "And I, oh ! I, with my lyre and song, Will stir with sweet words their heart, Till power to see, shall to all belong, Till Right shall have place, and the share of the strong, Be but his own fair part," BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 57 ^0 ti)e i^ansp* ' That gold and piirple flower. Emblem of thought." And what thought, gentle flow'ret, say. Does thy soft leaves express ? What fancy of that chainless sprite, Lies hidden in thy breast ? A mournful one it cannot be, Thou seekest not the shade, On thy bright looks no dimming trace, Of pensiveness is laid. Thou art with thy bright sister flowers. That form the garden's pride, And with the wildings of the dell. Art bloomiug, side by side. 58 POEMS FOR HOME. Bj noble halls and cottage doors, Thy velvet form is seen, Oh ! tell of ^vhat imaginings Thou art the Fauy Queen. *' I bear within me, the charmed gift, Of cheerful hopes, and thought ; Abiding trust, and meek content. Me, hath my Maker taught. " Whether with poverty I dwell, Or in rich gardens shine, Or unregarded, live and die, A grateful heart is mine. " The bright warm sun, refreshing showers, The dew, the radiant sky, Are all bestowed upon a flower, Lowly and mean as I. '* Mortal ! wouldst thou the gift obtain, "^Miich constantly I boar? Think, there is nothing e'er can hide Thee from God's guardian care. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 59 " Bear with thee to thy daily task, A gentle, humble mood, And hourly causes will arise For trusting gratitude. " I, but a simple flow'ret am. Yet in His love confide ; Thou art immortal ! canst thou fear In Him to find a suide ? " 60 POEMS FOR HOME I. Clash the cymbal, strike the lyre, Let minstrels rouse the warrior's fire, Unfurl the fluttering pennon gay. Let the war-trumpet sound away ! Lances glitter, steeds prance by, A Knight rides forth to victory ! His plume bends gaily to the breeze. Flashes his mail, as sunlight seas, A white scarf round his breast is bound, His restless war-horse paws the ground. With visor o'er brow, gauntlet on hand. He leads his brave, his w^arrior band. The lists are set on the chosen plain, The knight is there with his glitt'ring train : BY ISABELLA. CAULTOX. 61 Lord aud serf, alike are bent, To the kingly play at the Tournament, And Beauty is there on her throned seat. Failing rough games, Avhere lances meet. "Woman ! thy part in this warrior play, Was high in honour, in lofty sway Queen at the Tourney, loved in the Bower, Worshipped as Saint at the battle hour ; Lauded in song, aud raised o'er all. At Lordly Joust, or Festival, Methinks it were well, again to see, The gloiy of days of chivalry ! IL The lists are struck, the tourney done, The knights and all their train are gone ; The war-steeds neiafh is heard no more : Nor plume of chief o'er visor bore, Nor flag, nor pennon to unbind, Their flaunting glories to the wind Is seen ; — nor sound of victor's horn. Startles the ear at eve or morn ; But Silence broods upon the ground Where armour clanged, where warriors frowned. 62 POEMS FOR HOME. For across the sea, \vitli his iron band, The Baron is gone to the Holy Land. Alas I for Beauty at that day ! Wearily passes her life away, Within the Castle's moated wall, Listing the tread of the Warder tall, Wiling away the ling'ring hour With patient toil o'er the mimic flower. Or hearing her maiden's minstrelsy, Or how the " Squire of low degi'ee " Wooed the King's daughter of Hon- garie !" Oh ! how wearily years passed on ! Of her lord, the Baron, came tidings none, Save it might be a broken tale Told by some wand "ring Palmer pale, Who proud of his staff, and his scallop shell. Would linger o'er gossip none else could tell, Of whose bold Banners were floating, when He came from the Land of the Saracen. So eve to eve, and day to day, Whispered each other ; fair locks turned grey, BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 63 Bright eyes wore dull, aud the funeral hymn, Soon its sad notes rung tlirough the chapel dim, While afar in the land he had fought to save The Baron had found a goiy grave. — Ah ! Maiden, bethink thee ! dost wish to see And share in the glories of Chivalr}'? 64 POEMS FOR HOME- Old year ! old year ! thy race is run, Passed is thy space away. Few minutes more of midnight chime And closed thy latest day ; So I will chaunt thy requiem here, A long farewell to thee Old year. Of all the eyes that looked on thee, When first thou sprang to name, How many now have passed away To the Earth from whence they came ! Young voices sang thy welcome clear, Where are their accents now Old year ? Hopes, promises, and auguries, Thou lavislied, many a one ; A few have ripened to the fruit, The rest, are vanished, gone ! And thou hast witnessed many a tear. O'er broken pledge of thine, Old year! BY ISABELLA CAULTOX. 65 But as thou glided steadily, Much must have met thy view, That told of heaven-born charities, The Holy, Just, and True : Hast seen no heart by love made brave, Dare terrors stronger than the grave ? No one Tvho strove 'neath misery's load, To bear him patiently ? Or "walked in uprightness, while round Dwelt hungry poverty ? Hast seen no gentle, fragile form, Bend to the wind yet bide the storm? Aye, thou hast seen all this, and more Than twines in poet's song ; Guilt in its open recklessness And hidden, trackless wrong ; And thus, in mingled gloom and cheer Thy vision closes, olden year ! Hist ! now thou goest I some are met In love, and hope and glee. To speed thy footsteps while the bells Fling out right merrily ; And some, are weeping o'er the time. Fast fleeting by, with everv chime. 66 POEMS FOK HOME, But you and I part silently ; In quiet and alone ; No other sound falls on mine ear, As dies thy last bell's tone ; — Would that all sorrow, pain, and fear, Might glide away with thee Old year ! Vain wish ! the quickening step, the call, Of thy young brother sounds ; And to him full of promise dim. Each young heart fondly bounds ; Tho' darkly veiled, he seems to them, Brighter than jewelled diadem. — Alas ! Old year ! what will they say, When he, hke thou, must pass away 1 — BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 07 ^f}t Burial in Wiinttx* The icy gems of winter Encrusted herb and tree i And o'er the hills, the evening mist, Came glooming heavily. The snow lay on the frozen earth, With chill, and pallid gleam; Stilled, were all murmm's of the air Mute, every summer stream. A coldness like to death, hung round, A silence, dim and dull ! All life, aiid warmth, had passed away, And gone the Beautiful I I gazed in mournfuluess ; when lo ! There came a little baud, With ling'ring steps, and tearful flow, And sorrow linked hand. 68 POEMS FOR HOME. They bore the dead upon his bier, " Death unto death" I cried '' Oh ! cold thy bosom, mother earth, Thou, like thy son hath died. Death unto death I" — upon mine ear C ame a soft solemn strain ; " I am the Life ! they, who believe, With Death shall not remain. " I am the Life !" — from earth and air, From hill, and stream, and plain, Rang forth methought the same sweet words. Life ! Life ! shall bloom again I ♦* Not dead, nor cold, my hidden breast, Seemed a sweet voice to say. There lie bright treasures garnered up. For a happier sunnier day. " The germ of all that beautifies. Of all thou yearn 'st to see ; The life of grass, of tree, of flower, In safetv, rests with me. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 69 " The countless dead of ages past, The wept, of land and sea, Within mv long embrace and true, Are cherished tenderly. " And as the flowers in glory burst, From roots in darkness hid, So, from corruption's buried dust, When He, who made, shall bid, •' Forth shall arise a glorious form, Of holy brightness full, Buried in weakness, raised in power, And Incorruptible I" So ceased the voice ; but from my heart, Burst the responsive tone, Thanks be to God I who Victory gives, Through Christ, and Him alone I" 70 POEMS FOE HOME. ^ ©trge* We have laid the turf above her, The green turf gemmed with flowers, And hid our loved and beautiful, From all life's sad, and coming hours ; The morning sun flashed brightly, Ui3on our task when done ; And we thought it brought us tidings. Of the Home of Light, her soul had won. The summer breeze, came swelling With solemn music's tide ; And we sang with voices trembling, The hymn she loved before she died ! And then we knelt all gently, The open grave beside. And sent a last, and 3^earning gaze. On what the cold earth soon would hide. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 7 1 But now, v.-itli Faith's rejoicings We quell the rising tear, For we know that ' perfect love' was hers, Which casteth out all doubt and fear ; And we strive to guide our footsteps, In the holy paths she trod ; For the same blest way will lead us, To Her, to Light, to Heaven, and God ! 72 POEMS FOR HOME. Angel bands thy footsteps guiding, Ever constant, ever near ; Weal or woe, thy path betiding, Nothing doubt thee, nothing fear ; Looks of love, around thee greeting. Tones, that fill the heart with joy, Eyes, that pleasure beam when meeting. All Life's gifts without alloy, These be thine, these be thine ! May the light of Holy Spirit Shine upon thy pilgrim way, To the land thou mayst inherit, Land of love and endless day ; Earthly shadows flee before it. Earthly hopes, are faint and dim, God hath breathed his promise o'er it, May that holy ray from him. E'er be thine, E'er be thine ! BY ISABELLA CAL'LTON. <3 Wlien the Spectre Death is shading With its gloom, thy brow and eye, And thy form from life is fading, In the narrow bed to lie ; Then, the Angel bands who tended, AVhen thy foot was firm and free, O'er thy dying couch be bended, And Heaven's portals ope for thee ! This be thine, this be thine ! 74 POEMS FOK HOME. ^0 ti)t Htlg of tf)t Fallen* I do not know, oh, gentle flower. What poet-name is thme, Nor what the fancied attribute Hid in thy leafy shrine. Sweet is the fragrance of thy bells, And rich thy broad leaves' fold ; More beautiful thy purity Than gems of orient gold. But sweeter far the memory Of what thou bring'st to me, Thau all the poet's pen could tell Of minstrel fantasy. How many hours of by-gone years, How many tones of glee, And days of quiet happiness, Rise at the sight of thee. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 75 The garden with its perfumed buds, The song-birds on the bough, The grey old wall with ivy wreath'd, Are spread before me now ! And faces that I cannot meet, Hearts that will beat no more ; But the love they gave, the truth they taught, Will last till life be o'er. Oh I how the griefs of later years Fade in this light away I How fleeting are the clouds that hung Their gloom upon the day \ But thus it is ; that beam of love By God to mortals given. Beareth where'er its light may stray A touch divine of Heaven. And now adieu, fair lily bell, I leave thee on thy bed ; While to my daily path I bear The comfort thou hast shed. 76 Poems iok home. Oh ! never shall mj heart despair, Or sink in sorrow's hour' While He, who watcheth all, can send Such blessing in a flower. BY ISABELLA CAIJLTOX. 77 ri&e '0.thvt\x) f^otfjer. " The tender and delicate woman among you, her eye shall be evil towards her children which she shall bear; for she shall eat them for want of all things secretly, in the siege and the straitness, wherewith thine enemy shaU distress thee." Deut. 28 c. The fulfilment of tMs fearful prediction, is related by Joseplius as occurring in the person of a woman of noble birth who had flovm to Jerusalem for succour, from beyond Jordan ; when she had lost all her friends and fortune. Among all the hor- rors of that fearful time, fierce bands of Jews entered houses and took forcible possession of such food as they could find. It was for a number of these wretches that the loathsome offering mentioned in the Poem was saved. I. The shouts of war were sounding Round Salem's lofty towers, And day to day beheld them, Begirt with Roman powers ; '8 POEMS FOR HOME. The Eagle standard proudly waved, That banner of the world ! — Oh ! deep and deadly were the woes, Or ere that flag was furled. But these were foes without the walls. Within were deadlier still ; Fast came the doom of prophecy, On Zion's fated hill; For there in veiy deed, was grief Such as time had not seen, Death, in such guise, as ne'er before, Within the world had been. The husband rose against the wife, That on his bosom lay ; The aged parent ghastly fell, To her child's rage a prey ; Yet one deed more and then the fiend Of war, his vict'ry won, — He saw the moment, and he raised A ^Mother 'gainst her Son ! She had been nurtured in fair halls, 'Mong Judah's mountains free ; The wild gazelle, that bounded there, Stepped not more gracefully ; BY ISABELLA ( AULTON. 79 Hers was the voice, the look, the form That fill a happy home, That rest so blessed, that it seems From Paradise to come. But Roman Eagles tore away, The shelter from the Dove, The blackened walls, a ruined hearth, All that was left to love ; And wildly, madly, did she flee. Her baby closely prest. To Zion's bulwarks, as a guard, A haven, and a rest. But Zion's glories were gone by. Her God had left His hill, And deep and bitter was the cup Where she must diink her fill, No helping hand could Salem give, To that poor stricken one, And direst wretchedness hung o'er The widow, and her son. Fierce were the conflicts that oft raged Within her heated brain ; Till nature overtasked, could hold No mastery again ; 80 POEMS FOR HOME. The eye that once beam'd love and joy Beneath her " owne roof tree," Now in the leaguered, bannered wall, Flashed ^Yild insanity. And recklessly she cast aside Her boy, her only child, And laughed, a maniac laugh, then spoke In accents fierce and wild, " A curse is on Jerusalem Trembling her lofty walls Gone is the God that guarded her, And to despair she falls. And thou ! the offspring of a Sire More noble and more true. Than aught that Rome's rude chivalry Brings forth against the Jew, — Thou boy, in whose proud falcon glance, And on whose lofty brow. The spirit of the Hebrew dwells, — The Hebrew, said I ! now, "Within his gates, are farious war, Treason and wild despair. And godless wretches seek the haunts, Where famine has lier lair ; BY ISABELLA CAULTOX. 81 A weary choice, my noble child, Sedition, famine, war I These, wait around thy babyhood, AYhich shall I keep thee for ? Or shall I send thee as a slave To the proud Roman there, Who tramples with his charger's hoofs, Homes, which thy fathers' were?" Then, as she madly toss'd her arms, Flung from her brow her hair, A fiend, might shudder to behold, The look, that settled there. Day passed away, and with the eve Arose a frantic shout, And recklessly there hiu'ried on, A godless, " rabble rout;"' They passed a house, the door was shut, '• Lo I hither seek we food !" And forcibly they broke the latch. The frantic multitude. There stood a woman, pale and still As some tall statued stone. She heard their calls, their murd rous threats, But answer, gave she none ; 82 POEMS FOR HOME. With frenzied eye, and stately step, She moved across the room, Uncovered there a hidden heap, " See ! I have saved ye some !" But oh ! the horror that there fell, Upon the famished men ! How slmdderingly they tm'ncd away And sought the street again ! No word spake they, no outcry raised, But hushed, in heart, I ween. They pondered loathingly, and sad, On v>'hat their eyes had seen. II. The night had flung her mantle down On field, and sloping hill, And gently played the moonbeams fair, On many a trickling rill ; They sparkled the dark leaves among. Of a thick hanging wood, And tipped with mimic crests, the waves Of .Tordan's swelling flood. BY ISABELLA CAULTON. W3 Fair was the scene, and peaceful too, Tho' violence there had been, For passing by a streamlet's side, ^yhich ran, tall trees between, There rose burn't beams and blackened walls, Lattices, moss o'ergrown, And 'mid tall grass, and flaunting weeds, Columns of sculptured stone. A little farther, and there lay Under a tall tree's shade. Upon the fragrant bending turf Which gentle couch there made, A woman's form ; — 'twas still, and cold. As chiselled marble fair, Her dress was soiled and travel-wora. Grey, her once raven-hair ; Her brow was bent, as tho' deep pain, Had kept it for its throne, x\s if the weight of woful years. Had left their mark alone. But parted were the lips, and smiled, As Hope to them had come, — For ah ! the breathless form was laid Beside her ruined home. 84 POEMS FOR HOME. fHi5nicr!jt ftlustngs* "Most glorious night, Thou Mert not made for slomher ! " Byron. Glorious, in truth thou art. thou midnight skj, Beauteous and calm, and bright, as beau- tiful ; Thy arch is soft pale blue, ^vith dimpling stars Striving to shew their gentle gleaming light Around the moon, their queen ; — she in her pow'r, Glides on in calm and bright serenity, BY ISABELLA CAULToN. 5^5 While soft sliaded clouds, toiich'd by her own pure Beams, lie down beneath her : — tall branching trees Thro^v their long shadows on the dewj grass, The birds have ceased their song, and all, ev"n man Is still. — Nature hath whispered -'hush! disturb Ye not mine hour of calm," and. let us heed The call, — nor ev"n a sigh, or throbbing heart-beat, Break the spell that rests upon the hour, Nor earthly sounds however sweet, profane This majesty of silence I Oh I God I whose works For guilty man, are thus so good, so fair, If thus, this wolU is bright, tho" bearing marks Of thy deserved displeasure ; if all the glory £ 86 POEMS FOR HOME. Of thy sun, tliy moon and stars, earth s Lofty mountains, and her lonely vales, Her restless waters, and her quiet plains, If these, be ours, to gaze on, to admire, To love, and dwell amongst, — what, oh ! what is Heaven ! BY ISABELLA CAULTON. 87 €asa fttta- "Casainial Casa mia 1 Piccolini che sia, Tu sei sempre, casa mia ! " Casa mia, home of mine I O'er thee twines no tendhird vine, No jasmine round thy casement bound Sends its odours floating round, No bough of elm, or bee-sought lime, Sweet shelter gives in summer time. Only the busy, dusty street. Trampled and paced, by stranger feet, Only the distant noise and hum, That from the smoke- dimmed town doth come. "^Mth shout and din of wandering cry. Fill the tired ear continuallv. 88= POEMS FOK Hti.U^, Casa mia 1 gems and gold, In tliee no biilliancy unfold, No room with silken draperies dim, Ko downy couch for idle limb Nor lofty mirrored pictured halls Upraise their beauty mid thy \valls. But within thy little room Is none of grandeur, nor of gloom, Joyful hearts with me are there, Young s})ring blossoms budding fair. Youthful jest, and baby glee, — Sweet thoir music unto me 1 Little voices 1 how their sound Stirs the depth of love profourid * Little fingers! how their touch Giveth to the mother, ^^urh A thankful heart I such love to bear. And thought, for all her treasures' care I Little bosoms void of pain, Ready tears soon chased again. Boyish glee and merry shout, Earnest love and faith, — without "^-hade of fear ; uli I home of mine ! Thou dost whisper, •• these are thine." BY rSABi:i,LA CAULTOX. 89 Yet there are dark houra uf woe, Casa mia, thou dost know, Heart-griefs that deep shndows fling. Treasured hopes that soon take wing, Disappointment chill, and sorrow, Sad forel)odinos for the morrow. Ah ! cnsa mia, this must he, Xo earthly home from grief is free, No mother s care, tho" eer so true Can hanish trouhle from its view. Nor earthly love, however tried Can drive atlliction from our side. Only He, whose hles^ings come Upon a hum])le christian home Only He, the Undeliled, Who on little children smiled, He alone, who felt our woe. Can give us peace, hid sorrow go. Or hetter still, can teach us how The untried heart, its will must how ; Can tell us though we strive and grieve He never will forsake or leave, But bring us to a heavenly home Whpre tears and weeping, never come. 90 7H-)EMS VOW llo^il:. Be His word our only guide. Walk we faithful by His side, Trust Him firmly, and believe, Never shall we needless grieve, Nor our new^-born hearts repine ;- Be these blessings ever thine Casa Mia ! Home of mine ! iJY ISABELLA CAULTm.N. 91 i^allduiaf). Praise be to God I The one Creator, Lord, The Triune Godhead, the Incarnate Word ! The dweller in all space, — the gloiy, He, Of Sun, of Earth, of all Immensity I Praise be to him I Praise be to God the Father ! Thro' all Heaven, He reigneth King I yet He himself hath given, That one sweet name ; and we his children, are More precious in His sight, than Sun, or Star, Praise unto Him ! 9'^ PciEMS FOR HOME. Pniise be to God I For that He loves each thing That He hath made ; the uild bird on the ^vino•, The tender flow'ret, on the dewy grass, The Voices of the free winds as they pass, Praise be to Him ! Praise to our Lord ! For that he dwelleth nigh The humble-hearted ; to the contrite sigh That tells a sinner o'er his erring ways In soul is grieving I oli I for this, all praise, To God, our Lord ! Praise to our Lord ! For home's sweet sympathies, Its trusting love, its tender binding ties ; For ^Yords of truthfulness 'twixt friend and friend, For Hope, Joy, Faith, — all gifts and bless- ings blend In Praise to him! BY ISABELLA CAULTuX. 93 Praise be lo God the Comforter I In woe Bitter, and deep, such as the heart doth know When friendship may not, when love cannot speak Peace to the spiiit ; when the troubled meek Wait in their patience, till the storm hath sped, — With the lone widow, by her sick child's bed,— To suffering childhood, giving jingel dreams. And by His presence shedding rising beams Upon the Night of Death I all these, and more. The Comforter's rich i:'ifts, — oh ! let us pour Our Hallekijahs forth '. 94 POEMS FOR HOME. To Him, the Lord, The triune Godhead, the Incarnate Word! The Giver of all Life, the Glory He, Of Sun, Stars, Earth, — of all Immensity! Praise be to God ! THE END. 2HB1S, Dedication 6 Subscribers 7 To Poesy 13 Visions 16 Too Late 22 To Little Agnes on her First Bii-thday 40 One is Gone 43 The Poor Man's Cliild to Her Father 45 The Call to Prayer 49 There's Solemn Silence 51 The Poet's CaU 54 To the Pansy 57 The Days of Chivalry 61 POEMS FOR HOME. To die Old Year 64 The Burial iu Winter 67 A Dirge 70 Beuedicite 72 To the Lily of the Valley 74 The Hebrew Mother 77 Midnight Mnsings 84 CasaMia 87 Hallelujah 91 a. EUSSELL, ALBION PRINTING-OFFICE, LEAMINGTON. I This book is DUE on the last date stamped below lOm-ll, '50(2555)470 ijr 501 n-MCPH QCQIANAI 1 IBRARY FACILITY iiiirtiiriiii liiriijiiiiiTiririTii'ini illli !ll B 000 016 839 3 ■ ?«:'-^i/ 3 •£"■?■