>iU_ ( A LITTLE BOOK HOMESPUN VERSF —■ ^a> ----- MARGARET E, SANGST1 PS CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BEQUEST OP STEWART HENRY BURNHAM 1943 Cornell University Library PS 2767.L7 A little book of homespun verse 3 1924 022 162 444 DATE DUE "™WPB»W ! GAVLORO MINTED IN U.S.*. Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 9240221 62444 A LITTLE BOOK OF HOMESPUN VERSE MARGARET E. SANGSTER A LITTLE BOOK OF HOMESPUN VERSE BY MARGARET E. &ANGSTER author of "from my youth up," "winsome womanhood,' "lybics of lov»," "easteb bells." etc. flew lotft STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY 1911 Copyright 1911 By STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY Set up and electrotyped. Published, October, 1911 THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO SALOME G. HOWELL WITH WHOM I HAVE WALKED IN HAPPY COMRADESHIP SINCE THE DAYS OF THE MORNING-GLOW The consent of Messrs. Harper and Brothers, of the Christian Endeavor World, Sunday School Timet, Mc- Clure's Magazine and Will Carleton's Everywhere to the publication in this volume of poems which originally appeared in another form has been asked and obtained, and the author wishes to extend her thanks for the cour- tesy. FOREWORD In a certain farmhouse up country between the hall and the living-room I remember to have seen home-made curtains of silk, the work of winter evenings in a house where the mistress had little summer leisure. Bits of silk sewn to- gether in a hit or miss fashion had been woven as they happened to come, into the curtains, and the result was fascinating to children of all ages from eight to eighty. Everybody who stepped within the hospitable doors of the pleas- ant home had a word of admiration for the silken curtains. Once upon a time when sojourning in Florida I found myself a guest at an inn remote from traveled paths. Entering the little parlor, heated by an old-fashioned base burner, I came upon a group of nine women. They were ab- sorbed in patch-work, and I was called upon to study the intricacies of coverlets also designed vii Foreword on the hit or miss pattern, for the comfort and adornment of simple homes. We used, I fancy, to be satisfied with simpler things a while ago than it is our custom to be to-day. I am not counting upon the Gentle Reader's appreciation of my little book of verse, every bit homespun and purposely thrown to- gether without special classification, except as I myself have a preference for random bits that may be picked up at any moment and laid aside at discretion. The verses in this little book are meant for everyday folk who have an interest in everyday affairs. Love, honor, loyalty, faith and rever- ence belong to the staple of American life. In the days of my training we were proud to think of our country as inviting to its shores the dis- couraged, the needy, and, if you choose, the illiterate, from every quarter of the globe. We anticipated a day when the fusion and assimila- tion of cosmopolitan elements should make our country great and strong, and when the new nation on this side the Atlantic should stand in the van and lead the older nations on. This is still my gospel. I love the plain man, the plain woman; I love little children, and having never Foreword in my life been other than busy, I have tried from time to time to say something in verse for the heartening of those who toil. My little home book is sent out with messages of cheer and comfort, to American homes, North and South, East and West, beneath our flag of stars. The Gentle Reader who cares for Na- ture, for home and hearth, and for the simple life will find in this book a personal message. is CONTENTS PAGE Just a Little Mothee 3 The Morning March 6 The Road to Yesterday 10 The Magic Word 12 Interrupted 14 The Christ Child 16 The Good Fight 18 Be Strong . 20 From Nazareth 21 The Child in the Midst . 23 Barbara 25 Elizabeth 27 Pussy Willow 28 The Forerunner 30 Other Mays 32 The Coming of Spring 34 Tiger Lilies 37 Old Father Winter 39 Memorial Day 41 Christmas Gift 45 "Seems Lak" 47 Amy 49 xi Contents PAGE The Mother's Hymn 51 Straightway 53 The Little Prayer 55 The Guest at the Door 57 "Ashamed op the Working Mas?" 59 Children's Games 60 The White Carnation 62 The Easter Hymn 64 The House of Obed Edom 66 Her "Wedding Ring 69 On Christmas Morn 71 The Engineer 73 Lucy 75 Captain Abner's Opinion 77 Two Thanksgivings Miss Luanda's 81 Uncle Rube's 84 Buying Christmas Presents 87 Face to Face With Trouble 91 Abraham Lincoln 94 " Let not Your Heart be Troubled " .... 96 The Secret of Peace 99 Why Do You Worry? 101 Thanksgiving 103 Silver or Copper? 105 Ennui 108 Whose Compassions Fail Not 109 The Soul's Safeguard Ill One of These Days * . . 113 xii Contents PAGE A Happy New Year (Darby to Joan) .... 115 The Baby's Hand 117 Show Me Thyself 118 Jesus Himself Dbew Neab 120 Each by Name 122 When Jesus Came to Bethlehem 124 Love's Guest 126 Oub Country 128 The White Rose-Bush 131 Why? 134 Oub Soldieb Boys 135 Between the Sheabs 137 When Summeb Ends 139 Mary 140 An Old-Pashioned Gabden 142 In the Shadow — A Reouiem 143 When South Winds Blow 145 Bbothebhood 147 A Yellow Leaf 148 Looms 149 A Young Girl 150 The Great Men Pass 152 Pay Day 154 Not Alone 155 The Seat of the Scornful 156 Wab and Peace 157 A Finished Page 158 When Heaven Rains Flowers 160 Ship Ahoy! 161 xiii Contents PAGE Counsel ■ 164 White Lilacs ' -^5 A Rime op Poets Dead •*"* A Memobt . 170 One Coat and Two Small Boys 171 The Sting or It 173 Fatheb 176 Ember-Glow 177 Little Things 178 Thy Task 179 A Caution 180 Thankful 182 Afteemath 183 Robin in the Teee-Top 184 Pbiscilla 185 A Cheery Word 187 I Wish You Joy 189 The Door-Step 190 The Same Sweet Tale 191 Absent 193 Life ■ 195 Be Brave 197 Hope 198 Love ....... l 199 Joueney's End 201 XIV A LITTLE BOOK OF HOMESPUN VERSE A LITTLE BOOK OF HOMESPUN VERSE JUST A LITTLE MOTHER She's just a little mother in a cabin far away, Since I kissed her in the gloaming 'tis forever and a day ; In my dreams I hear her calling o'er the weary, weary sea, Come ye back to Ballyshannon, Katy dear, come back to me. She is standing in the doorway filling up the little space, There's a kerchief o'er her bosom, there are frills around her face, She is smiling as Our Lady smiles above the Holy Child, And my heart runs forth to meet her o'er the waste of waters wild. 3 Just a Little Mother Do you know our Ballyshannon where the wan- dering winds are sweet With the saltness of the sea-foam and the tang of smouldering peat? Do you know our mists that fold you in a blanket soft and grey? Do you know our Ballyshannon in the red rose dawn of day? Then you've seen the little mother, just Herself so small and old, With a look I think would warm you were you shivering in the cold. Oh, so patient and so tender 'mid the work that's never done, Oh, so ready with her laughter from the rise to set of sun. In the great house where I'm serving folk are ever kind to me, But they do not know my yearning for the mother over sea; Wage I earn and wage I send her, but I cannot longer bide, I must seek my little mother, I must nestle at her side, 4i Just a Little Mother She's just my little mother in the cabin far away, Since I kissed her in the gloaming 'tis forever and a day. In my dreams I hear her calling. " Mother, darling, yes, I'll come," I'll go back to Ballyshannon to my mother and my home. 5 THE MORNING MARCH Morning after morning the tread of many feet, Like an army marching wakes the quiet street. With their sunny faces lighting up the way, The merry-hearted little folk begin their busy day. Though little do they dream it, they live their blithest time, And who shall sing their gladness, in the meas- ure of a rhyme — With naught of care to cloud them, with easy tasks to do, And teachers full of gentleness to guide the learners through The mazes of the labyrinth, till all the grades are past, And the coveted diploma is in the hand at last? Perhaps an honest lad who walks so sturdily along, May one day win the suffrages of many a mighty throng. 6 The Morning March The boy whose foot is planted now on learning's lowest round May scale the heights of science or its deepest ocean sound. The. soldiers of the future, its splendid rank and file, Are hurrying forward here to-day where little children smile; Here, too, beneath the daintiness of dimpled flower-like face We catch the flitting sweetness of the mother's look of grace, Where yet Love's steady light shall burn above a cradle bed, And the tenderest heart be watching o'er a little golden head. Still day by day at nine o'clock I hear the army pass, Its footsteps ring along the stones, and bound along the grass. They seek the little district school upon the rural road, Whence yet may issue by and by men strong to bear the load The Morning March Of this great nation, and to lead its councils in debate ; The little district school that serves the altars of the State. The children of the foreign-born, they crowd the city school, Salute the flag, and day by day, are taught how freemen rule. From alien lands they come to us across the billowy seas ; The stuff for good Americans is in them, if you please. They, too, when moulded into shape, shall be our joy and pride, Receiving gift and guerdon here, to other lands ' denied. Oft as the tocsin sounds its call, the lads and lasses haste, The schoolroom doors are open, and they have no time to waste. With look alert and earnest eyes, with expecta- tion high, There is no prettier sight to see, beneath the bending sky. 8 The Morning March God bless them as they go to school, God keep them every one, And guard them day by day until their child- hood's work is done ; Then make them ready for the strife, and let them take their place Among the brave and steadfast who shall yet redeem the race ! THE ROAD TO YESTERDAY Who knows the road to yesterday, The road so garlanded with flowers, Who knows the place of careless play, The sunny track of childhood's hours? Oh, friend, I pray thee tell me where I left that path, and strayed to this, And lost the trail, and missed the turn, And changed for gray, the way of bliss? The haunting airs of yesterday Are in my ear, like phantom tunes, The perfumes sweet of yesterday Waft here from its long vanished moons. Oh, yesterday, dear yesterday, Thy hoarded memories may awake When I have reached that pleasant shore Where living waters ever break. In that to-morrow of God's love, In that fair home where wait our lost, 10 The Road to Yesterday I'll find my yesterday again, The last deep wave forever crossed; There, every pain and fear behind, And only joy and peace before, The lovely yesterdays I'll find And keep, on the unfading shore. 11 THE MAGIC WORD There was once a great Convention Where the waves of argument Rose and rolled in wrathful clamor, Broke on reefs of fierce dissent; Till at last with sullen faces Men upon each other turned, And the fires of scorn and hatred Lit by passion, blazed and burned. Then stood up a white-haired German, Short of stature, rosy-red, Only frost of kindly winters On his venerable head. Looking o'er the vast assembly With a gaze of mild reproof, For an instant evil impulse Swayed, abashed and held aloof. "What this meeting needs, my brothers,' 1 Said the sage with eye benign, 12 The Magic Word And his steady aspect quelled men, As by potency divine, " Is a little word of magic Spelled, I think, with letters three. Nothing can be done without it: Listen, friends ! 'Tis L-U-V." Rippled laughter o'er the benches, Men shook hands, the old man beamed ; Surely Love was what was wanted, Love from heaven that flowed and streamed. Little matter how one spells it, With three letters or with four; 'Tis the mighty power that binds us Close and firm, from shore to shore. Settling down to business, swiftly The Convention did its work : Smoothly passed from talk to action — Moved without a jar or jerk. Thus in many a household, friction Smoothly might we move along, If but Love would keep the tally, And our heart-beats time a song. 13 INTERRUPTED Into the midst of the music, The joy and the fullness of life, There swept a strange clangor; then silence, A stillness more startling than strife. We heard not the sound of the trumpets, The bugles died out on the blast. Could we march in that desolate waiting For the thrill of a song that was past? Could we work when our comrades no longer Breathed courage and hope in the ear? Could we triumph when sorrow and sighing Had palsied our hearts, until fear Swept over our souls like the shadow Of some brooding evil to come? Alas ! we were stricken ! the music That had given us courage was dumb. Then down from the beautiful heaven A word came, the word of the Lord, 14 Interrupted And it struck on our languor and trouble, A dominant, silvery chord. " Stay not for the music," it bade us ; " The music has only gone on. You will hear it again in the glory That waits when the day's work is done." So now, though but faintly and seldom We hear the sweet bugle call blow, We march in the path that our Leader Marked out in His conflict with woe. Some day we shall hear the grand chorals, Some day we shall stand on the shore Where the comrades already are waiting — The music has gone on before. 15 THE CHRIST-CHILD The Christ-child unto the stable came 'Twixt the midnight and the morn, His mother laid him softly down By the beasts of hoof and horn. The friendly kine a-near him stood In the frost of the early day, And, little brother of all the poor, He slept on the fragrant hay. The Christ-child slept in the stable dim, And over him flamed the Star That was golden-bright with the light of heaven Where God and the angels are. Then, journeying far, came king and priest, With a wealth of spices sweet, And, little brother of all the rich, They knelt to kiss His feet. In a mother's arms, the Christ-child lay, When the winter storm was wild, 16 The Christ-Child And into her happy brooding face Her baby looked and smiled. Of David's line, yet peasant born, And Son of God most high ; The seraphs sang His praises And the Star lit all the sky. A gift of gifts that tender Child Brought hither for you and me ; From the leaven of greed, the clutch of hate, By Love to be ransomed free. And once a year, in the long, long year, For a whole and happy day, To share again the heart of the Child Wherever the children play. O little brother of every man ! Obscure, or high, or great, Thine is the alchemy of heaven Wrought in our low estate. We find Thee still in the stable dim, But, for Thy cradle bed, Oh, rest not in the manger stall, Take Thou our hearts instead. IT THE GOOD FIGHT It is not mere resistance, Nor keeping watch and ward. Not doing sentry duty, Pacing a velvet sward, Nor safe behind the breastworks Is it holding the foe at bay, The fight with sin and Satan It is ours to wage to-day. We must often strive in the open ; We must kneel on the firing line ; We must follow the flag undaunted Where the enemy's colors shine ; In the utmost stress of peril, In the midst of pain and loss, We must fight to the death, if need be ; For the banner of the Cross. Brave souls have gone before us, The valiant and the true ; 18 The Good Fight In the field where the Captain led them They were strong to dare and do. Shame on the craven-hearted Who steal from the fight away, When the Lord of hosts is setting His battle in array. We meet the powers of evil; They darken earth and air ; But the shield of faith is ours, And the might that comes by prayer. For the Lord of angels leads us ; The Right shall smite the Wrong, And up the steeps of glory We shall carry the victor's song. It is not mere resistance, Though oft we can only stand, When well-nigh spent and fainting Are the weary heart and hand; But it's fighting in the open, It's bearing the battle's brunt, It's facing the foe undaunted, It's the wrestle at the front. 19 BE STRONG Whatever may happen, whatever may come, Whether things go right, whether things go wrong, There is one plain duty ; abroad, at home, It is told in the order, be brave, be strong. The fellow who falters and loses heart, The fellow who fears in the thick of the fight, And he who quails in the coward's part, Has never heard this order aright. Be strong to suffer, be strong to dare, Be strong to speak, let your words ring true ; Be strong the burdens of life to bear, Be strong to wait, and be strong to do. And whether around you be silence spread, And whether near you be shout and song, In the core of your soul let these words be said, In the combat of living be brave, be strong. FROM NAZARETH Comes any good from Nazareth? The scornful challenge as of old Is flung on many a j eering breath, From cloistered cells and marts of gold. Comes any good from Nazareth? Behold, the mighty Nazarene, The Lord of life, the Lord of death, Through warring ages walks serene. One touch upon his garment's fringe Still heals the hurt of bitter years. Before him yet the demons cringe, He gives the wine of joy for tears. O city of the Carpenter, Upon the hill slope old and gray, The world amid its pain and stir Turns yearning eyes on Thee to-day. 21 From Nazareth For He who dwelt in Nazareth, And wrought with toil of hand and brain, Alone gives victory to faith Until the day He come again. THE CHILD IN THE MIDST When the Lord of the great and the little, The potter whose hand shapes our clay, Sets a child in the midst of the market Where the world-peoples chaffer all day, Sets a child with its innocent questions, Its flower-face dimpled and fine, In the very heart's core of the clamor, A thought of the Maker Divine ; — And men, in their lust for dominion, Their madness for silver and gold, Crush the beauty and charm of that spirit, Make the flower-face withered and old, Bind the hands and the feet with a tether That childhood can never untie, Deem not that Jehovah unheeding Looks down from the heights of the sky. He sees, though we think Him unseeing, He knows when the factory wheels The Child in the Midst Grind down to the life-blood of children ; When the poor little bond-servant kneels In the pang of its frightful abasement ; — Though all men are deaf to its prayer, There is coming a dark day of judgment, And the Lord of the child will be there. The child in the midst, as we've marred it, Bent-shouldered, dull-eyed, and a slave, That cringes at word and at fetter, That cries for the rest of the grave; With our free flag unfolding above it, So free, from the pine to the palm! And our scared pallid children beneath it! There's a jar in the lilt of our psalm. From the mine where the midnight engulfs it, From the mill where the clogged air is thick With the dust of the weaving that chokes it ; From the home where it's fevered and sick With man's toil, when God meant it for glad- ness, The child in the midst in our clay God-molded, man-marred calls to heaven For the vengeance we're daring this day. BARBARA Our pretty maiden Barbara Came tripping down the street: It seemed as if a chime of bells Were in her little feet. So light her footfalls, and so gay Her smiles on old and young, A kindly word for Barbara There was on every tongue. This maid is Barbara the Third: And Barbara the First Sits dreaming in her easy chair, By tender kindred nursed. Her hair is whiter than the drifts Of newly-fallen snow: For Barbara for ninety years Has tarried here below. And age and youth, though far apart, In one sweet home are set, 25 Barbara And round them both are ministries, That wear an amulet. The charm of love encompasses Both Barbaras, to-day: The one with life before her set — The other worn and gray. When pretty maiden Barbara Shall reach her ninetieth year, May she look back on well-spent days, And on, without a fear! For Heaven, one day, shall conquer And youth shall guerdon age, What time life's kindest angel ends The laggard pilgrimage. 26 ELIZABETH The little maid, Elizabeth, Held out her royal hand to me ; Though she is only three years old, A very princess royal she. One begs this lady for a kiss, One bows to her a vassal's knee, Since she is princess of the realm, Although her birthdays number three. Tall brothers do her bidding, fain To please the witching tiny elf ; Her father for her pleasure still Forgets the homage due himself, And ruler of our little world, Obedient to her lightest breath, By right divine of baby charm Is this small maid, Elizabeth. n PUSSY WILLOW Almost before the snow has gone While yet the clouds are chilly, Before the crocus blooms again Or spring awakes the lily ; A gentle herald meets our eyes, Her barque has crossed the billow, And here, with touch of glad surprise, We hail the pussy willow. A pleasant harbinger of love, She dares the bandit bluster Of winds that hurry here and there At March's furious muster. Full soon we'll hear the blue-bird's note, Full soon in sunny weather, Shall sweet, delicious perfumes float; We'll all be blithe together. The pussy willow leads the band, A merry throng come after, 28 Pussy Willow With song and wing and dear delight, With childhood's merry laughter. The earth that late was fast asleep Has turned upon her pillow. The joy of those who sow and reap Thrills in the pussy willow. 29 THE FORERUNNER When the first little flower peeps up from the ground, And opens its eyes to the face of the sky, Though never a bugle may cheerily sound, An army with banners is hastening nigh. Ere long shall the dear things we loved long ago, Make regal the fields that so lately were bare ; The lilies will gleam, and the roses will glow, And fragrance shall waft through the sun-fil- tered air. The first tiny flower is pledge of the rest, The daring forerunner of flowers to be. When the spring and the summer shall lavish their best, And beauty flood in like the waves of the sea. 30 The Forerunner Did it seem in the day when the winter was chill, And the land lay asleep 'neath its cover of white, That life had forgotten its glory and thrill, And shadow had fallen, and darkness and blight? Ah, heart that was faithless, be thankful to-day, Forever the promise of God standeth sure. Believe that the spring-time is coming this way, To fill up the measure of things that endure. When the first little flower peeps up from the ground, And opens its eyes to the face of the sky, Though never a bugle may cheerily sound, An army with banners is hastening nigh. 31 OTHER MAYS With shimmer of dancing waters, With rustle of rippling leaves, With seed in the furrow sleeping That shall later be bound in sheaves, Comes May in her 'brqidered raiment, Comes May with her exquisite days ; Yet all that my heart can think of Is the glory of other Mays. Here are the tinted blossoms, Here is the song of the bird, And nest and wing and fluting By the same sweet impulse stirred. The notes of love and longing And the vesper song of praise — In my inmost heart they are waking An echo of other Mays. Lover and lass are straying Beneath the fragrant boughs ; Other Mays The south wind's tender swaying Keeps time to their murmured vows. So, some whose heads are whitened By the snow of the wintry days Went blithely on, troth-plighted, In the light of other Mays Life brings us the changeful seasons, To each in his turn on earth: And now it is summer's fullness, And then it is winter's dearth. To youth the fond rejoicing And the flower-besprinkled ways, And never a thought of yearning For the grace of other Mays. THE COMING OF SPRING Blue of the sky that's above us, green of the grass at our feet, Breezes that kiss us in passing, just to be living is sweet: When spring has come back to the meadows, and buds in the garden unfold, And the thrall of the winter is broken, gone as a tale that is told. Birds in the tree-tops are singing, birds are at home in the eaves, The thrill of the life that is waking stirs under the whispering leaves. Not a brook but is merry to madness, not a river but sings of the sea, And old hearts grow younger in May-time, and prisoners long to be free. Ah ! how we remember the May days, when first we looked up to the sky, The Coming of Spring And watched our dream boats as they floated far over those spaces on high: Ah! how we remember the dear ones who heard in the morning of May, The call to a service beyond us, who slipped from our clasping away! They answered the roll-call of heaven, ere earth to their eyes had grown dim; The Master had need of their presence in the place that was nearest to Him, And oft as the May-time returning is here with its music and light, We listen again to their voices far-borne from a crystalline height. The children are glad in the May-time, the baby laughs out in her glee; We weary of counting the blossoms as white as the foam of the sea. Wherever we turn there is beauty: wherever we look there is love: And green is the grass in the May-time, and blue is the heaven above. 35 The Coming of Spring Pilgrim whose faith has been halting, O heart overburdened with fears, God sendeth thee strength in thy weakness, a rainbow to shine through thy tears; Each May-time that comes is a token, a gift from the Father Divine, Who holds the round earth in His Keeping, who guards it in shadow and shine. 36 TIGER LILIES Children of sun and summer, Encamped by the highway side, There are never blooms more regal In their air of winsome pride. Color of flame and splendor, Charm of a wilding grace, I hail your torch-like beauty In many a lonely place. The spotless vestal virgins In the garden's stately aisle, Uplift a gleaming chalice And lure with a maiden's smile. Lilies all white and golden, No passion of earth they know. Yet I prize your deep-toned glory As I treasure their stainless snow. For the gypsy lad may pluck you, And the heart of the tired tramp 37 Tiger Lilies Beat once again as in childhood By the light of your kindling lamp. You are flower of the common people, My lily of road and dell, And the fragrant winds that kiss you Have the sound of a bridal bell. God cares for the common flowers That no man plants or tills. They laugh by the million, countless, On the everlasting hills. God keeps on high their tally, Children of sun and shower, And they waken each blithe summer Part of its heavenly dower. OLD FATHER WINTER Old Father Winter is here again, Hale and hearty and full of glee ; He is bringing the ancient blustering train That do his bidding on land and sea. Gales that roar from the frozen north, Sleet that cuts like the sting of a lash, Fleece that flies from the four winds forth, Storms that over the forest crash. Burly old winter with bells achime! With the skater's glide o'er the frozen lake, With glimmer of sun on the crystal rime, And draughts of tonic that all partake; We welcome you back for your lusty breath, For your face of health and your right good cheer, For the thought you give us of conquered death, When the sap stirs deep in the drowsy year! In the heart of the winter sleeps the spring : You cradle the buds in icy mail. 39 Old Father Winter Old Father of tempests, your wildest wing Hath shelter for nurslings sweet and frail ! You gather us close round the blazing hearth, And the evening glides to the tune of a song, And the home is safe, and the tidal mirth Flows rich and sweet where our households throng. Old Father Winter, you sometimes nod And violets wake on a sunny slope; Then the blue-bird fancies that spring's abroad, And the saucy sparrows are full of hope. But we love you best when your mood is brave With sharp cold weather and thrill of war, When the white foam breaks on the thunder- wave That dies at last on the steadfast shore. 40 MEMORIAL DAY Breath of the spicy roses, breath of the lilies sweet, And the gleam of steel, the flutter of flags, and the tramp of marching men ; Far and away the music that bugles and drums repeat, Till the curtain lifts from the face of the past, and now is the same as then. m I am standing straight in the shadow of the honeysuckle vine, With Harry, my bold-eyed laddie, clutching a fold of my gown, And Milly, my darling baby — oh, never were babes like mine — Asleep on my strong young shoulder, not heeding the stir of the town. The town is in strange commotion ; the men are marching away, 41 Memorial Day All but the old and the crippled. We cover our heart-sick pain With smiles that are like May blossoms, braving the desolate day, Kissing Our hands to the soldiers. Shall we ever see them again? Husbands and sons and brothers, lovers and friends galore, And they carry the sweet light with them. They are gone ; there is nothing to do But to comfort the wondering children, to lock and bar the door, And then to pray for one's darling in the gray coat or the blue. Yes, we poured our tears at the parting, with nobody near to know. For women are brave at need, dear; they can bear the thrust of a sword. You would never dream they were wounded, so steadfast their clear eyes glow; And the only moan they make, dear, is made at the feet of the Lord. 42 Memorial Day Many a spring and summer have flashed their looms of light Over the narrow ridges where sleeping the sol- diers wait ; And whether they fell in the morning, or passed away in the night, They shall lie till the great Archangel sound- eth the trump of fate. The children do not remember — it was all be- fore their day — The passionate love, the passionate hate, the sorrow, the hope, the pride, We felt who were young and buoyant when our brave ones marched away: It is little to these young people which of them lived or died. But I carry my pot of lilies, and I bid them bloom for one Who was life of my life and soul of my soul, whom I gave for his country's sake. I bear myself with courage, as I will till my day is done; For a heart may sing its anthems, though a heart, alas! may ache. Memorial Day Breath of the spice of the roses, breath of the lilies sweet, And the flutter of flags and pennons, the sound of marching men, A pulsing of jubilant music, and the drum's in- sistent beat — Why, I've only to shut my eyes, dear, and now is the same as then. And ever dear Mother Nature, from the seed- time to the sheaf, Cares for the dead who are silent, and cares for the living, too; She weaves her decorations in the snow-fleece and the leaf, Nature the ever faithful, though the skies are gray or blue. 44 CHRISTMAS GIFT " Christmas gift, Missie? " I hear them yet. How the roses were blooming on Christmas Day, And the waves dashed up with the foam and fret, On the shingle, like waves on a summer's day. The dear black people who thronged me 'round, Lil' pickaninny and Mammy Jean, And Uncle Jacob, with bow profound, And tall Aunt Hannah, as proud as a queen. "Christmas gift, Missie?" with hands out- stretched And eager eyes, and their looks of love, And the presents forth from the great house fetched, While the sun laughed down through the cypress grove; Lil' pickaninny and Mammy Jean, And Missie, a child among them all. And Oh ! but the Christmas was glad, I ween, With its gift of love to one and all. 45 Christmas Gift Gone are the days, and the roses are dead. There's a trail of trade where the big house stood. The old sweet friendship for aye hath fled, Like Mammy Jean and her dusky brood. Lil' pickaninny and nut-brown queen, You throng no longer your Missie's door, It would make her young if the holly green Could echo your " Christmas gift " once more. 46 " SEEMS LAK " " Seems lak," says Mammy Nell, " Some folks is lazy bawn: Dey nebber weed de gahden, An' dey nebber hoe de cawn. Yet ebbery puhson wait on dem — Dey eats wid golden spoon, Dey sleeps all houahs ob de day — When I gets up right soon. " I wonder ef byme bye, my chile, They will not hab their turn, An' wait on you an' wait on me, An' what dey eat dey'll earn? If heaven'll even things, my chile, Dese lazy folks up dere Will line St. Peter settin' 'em To sweep de golden stair." So muses gentle Mammy Nell, Her black face shining bright ; 47 "Seems Lak" For she expects in heaven to have A face all lily-white. " Seems lak " her faith may win reward • Our dear old Mammy Nell — Whose simple life has been so hard, Whose tasks are done so well. 48 AMY Still do I see thee with thy sun-lit hair With eyes as blue as violets in the spring. In dreams thou comest to me blithe and fair. What time the summer leaves are whispering Faint undertones beneath the thrushes note, 'Twas then that thou didst hear the angel's call That from a land not far did hither float, And very sweet and clear on thee did fall. Vacant the place where thou wert wont to be, The homely duties, how they miss thee yet ! How strange the household, ever lacking thee, And who that loved thee could thy love for- get? I think of thee, so vivid and so bright, I know thee living where beyond our ken His servants serve Him, standing in His sight, Or, faring forth for aid of toiling men. 49 Amy By some low bed of pain I see thee still Where childish face is haply fever-flushed, Harsh tempers yield before thy gentle will And angry tones are in thy presence hushed. Thou art not far away though years have fled Since last we saw thee, since we said good-by, No thought of mine can count thee with the dead; So art thou living, and so art thou nigh. 50 THE MOTHER'S HYMN WRITTEN FOR TENTH ANNIVERSARY, NATIONAL CONGRESS Or MOTHERS. Of old they brought their babes to Thee, Our earthly ways who trod, And veiled in our humanity The mighty love of God. The mothers held their little ones So very close and near, Thy look was brighter than the suns, And yet they felt no fear. Thy blessing, gentle as the dew, Fell on each little Lead. And heaven itself came floating through The words the Master said. We, mothers of a younger day And of another time, Are fain to seek Thee in the way ; To Thee, our prayers would climb. 51 The Mother's Hymn We seek Thy blessing on our own Sweet lambkins of the fold ; We bring our children to the throne In aspiration bold. Receive us, Lord, as if indeed We tou-hed Thy garment's hem. Accept our little ones, we plead, Be all in all to them. O Christ, Who walked beside the sea, To Whom the children clung, Let mothers' praise ascend to Thee In every land and tongue. And for this land divinely blest One blessing more we crave ; Accept the offering of our best And all our children save. 52 STRAIGHTWAY " What madness this ? " cried the fisher folk By the Lake of Galilee, When sudden and clear in their ears it broke, A young man's " Follow me ! " Straightway and swift as a homing bird Flies up to the waiting nest, They answered the call whose hearts were stirred By a vision of Love's own best. They left the nets they would need no more In the old familiar toil, They turned away from the friendly shore, As men enriched by spoil. For grave and sweet was their Leader's face, And His eyes were full of cheer ; They would march at His bidding with resolute pace, And challenge the menace of fear. Straightway You who are young in the world to-day, Have you heard that ringing call? Are you ready to heed? Will you walk the way Of the Lord who needs us all? It is sounding down from the heights above; It is Christ's word, " Follow me ! " Ah, straightway answer the mighty Love, His servants and soldiers be. 54* THE LITTLE PRAYER Among the prayers that all day long Made clamor at the throne Was one that lost itself in song, Meant for the Lord alone. Its sweetness reached Him clear and strong, As swift as sigh or moan. A heart with joy that overbrimmed Sent forth the little prayer. Its notes an angel might have hymned In heaven's serenest air. No tear its brightness had bedimmed; It bore no weight of care. " Dear Christ, I am so blithe," it said, " I am so glad and gay, I cannot walk with drooping head Upon the radiant way. But fain I am with Thee to tread Each hour and every day. 55 The Little Prayer " And I would bring some joy to Thee, There sitting on Thy throne ; Oh, let my very gladness be A service all Thine own." The little prayer went pleadingly In softest undertone. And Christ, Who listened, smiled to hear The tender little prayer That had no thought of grief or fear, Nor any weight of care. The little prayer drew very near His heart, and lingered there. 56 THE GUEST AT THE DOOR Thy home may be the lowliest On thronged or lonely way, Yet unto thee may come a guest Whom circling worlds obey. If thou but heed His gentle knock And swift unbar the door, The fragrance of the yielding lock Shall bless thee evermore. He steps across the threshold dim, He sits beside thy board; The light of stars comes in with Him, Thy guest is Christ the Lord. Henceforward every loaf of thine And every brimming cup, Shall be to thee a feast Divine. Since thou with Christ didst sup. 57 The Guest at the Door Thenceforward in thy heart shall be A sense of sin forgiven, The Christ Himself shall dwell with thee, And earth be sweet with heaven. 58 " ASHAMED OF THE WORKING MAN? His hand is grimy and callous, His brow is bronzed with tan, But only the weak and foolish Are ashamed of the working man. What boots his toil-bent shoulder, That has bowed to a burden great? At need it is strong to carry The heaviest load of the state. Ashamed of the honest fellow Who kisses his bairnies at morn, And is off for a day of labor, That the idle flout with scorn? In the sight of the watching angels Who toil by night and day, The man who does his duty In a faithful, humble way, Takes rank with the loftiest rulers, And in the Creator's plan There are none more worth the crowning Than the simple working man. 59 CHILDREN'S GAMES Year by year the children play The games of children yesterday. The shouts we hear around the home Were once reverberant in Rome. And ancient Greece and Babylon Saw children's games and children's fun Like those that fill our sparkling air With effervescence everywhere. ' The tops they spin, the balls they toss, The marbles with their gain and loss, The skipping rope, the rolling hoop, In eager pace or flying loop, The kites that soar to touch the sky, The dolls in dimpled forms that lie, All these the generation through Have pleased the race since it was new. Still London Bridge is falling down In many a Yankee street and town ; 60 Children's Games Still kissing goes by favor, when The little maids and little men, With blush and bow and look demure, In childhood's morning, sweet and pure, Play, just as other children played Soon after this old world was made. And if they learn to play the game Right fairly, it is all the same, Though some be born to golden spoon And some have scarcely wooden shoon. Time moves with swift and steady march, And underneath the sky's great arch The children of the moment play In every age, the selfsame way. 61 THE WHITE CARNATION Here's to the white carnation, Sturdy and spicy and sweet, Wafting a breath of perfume On the stony way of the street; Bringing a thought of gladness Wherever the breezes blow ; Here's to the white carnation, Pure as the virgin snow. This is the flower for Mother, Wear it on Mother's Day ; Flower for rain and sunshine, Winsome, gallant and gay; Wear it in Mother's honor Pinned to the coat's lapel; Wear it in belt and corsage, For her who has loved you well. The Mother in lowly cabin, The Mother in palace hall, 62 The White Carnation Is ever the best and dearest, The one we love best of all. In travail and pain she bore us, In laughter and love she nursed, And who that would shame the Mother Is of all mankind accursed. Tired and wan too often, Weary and weak at times, But always full of the courage That thrills when the future chimes: Mother with hands toil-hardened, Mother in pearls and lace, The light of heavenly beauty Shines in your tender face. So here's to the white carnation, Wear it on Mother's Day ; Flower that blooms for Mother, Winsome, gallant and gay. Flower of a perfect sweetness, Flower for hut and hall, Here's to the white carnation And to Mother — Our Best of All. 63 AN EASTER HYMN To Thee, dear Lord of death and life, We lift our joyful song to-day. Victorious in the utmost strife, Thou art Thyself our strength and stay. We bless Thee for the comfort sweet That comes with every thought of Thee. Our praises cling around Thy feet Where yet the cruel nail-prints be. For us were borne the shame and loss, For us the scourge, the jeer, the thorn; For us the darkness of the cross, For us awakes the Easter morn. We stand beside the open tomb, The stone we dreaded, rolled away. Once more for us the lilies bloom Upon the Resurrection Day. 64 An Easter Hymn O Lord of life and Lord of death, We worship Thee this Easter Day. All love, all faith, all hope, all breath, We bring to praise Thy conquering way. With Mary we would hear Thy voice Amid .the garden's cloistered calm ; With her our hearts would fain rej oice, Thy love for every wound a balm. O King of kings, and Lord of lords, Who stooped to wear our mortal clay, Earth joins with heaven in the chords That hailed Thee Conqueror to-day. Though tears may fall like summer rain, Though sorrow linger for a night, Thy sweet compassion easeth pain, Beneath Thy smile the world is bright. To Thee, dear Lord of death and life, Thyself our strength, Thy love our stay, Victorious in the utmost strife, We hail Thee on this Easter Day. 65 THE HOUSE OF OBED EDOM The house of Obed Edom, Where safe the ark abode, What time were wars and fightings On every mountain road, What time was pitched the battle In every valley fair, The house of Obed Edom Had peace beyond compare. With famine on the border And fury in the camp, With the starving children huddled In the black tent's shivering damp, With the mothers crying sadly And every moan a prayer — In the house of Obed Edom Was neither want nor care. The fields of Obed Edom, No f oeman trod them down ; m The House of Obed Edom The towers of Obed Edom Were like a f ortressed town ; And only grace and gladness Came speeding on the road To the house of Obed Edom, Wherein the ark abode. And far and near they told it, The men who passed that way, How fell Jehovah's blessing On that home by night and day ; How the smallest to the greatest Had joy and hope and love, While the roof of Obed Edom Was watched by God above. The line of Obed Edom Is on the earth to-day; In the house of Obed Edom Still he may safely stay, Who, dearer than all treasure For which men toil and plod, Shall prize the covenant-blessing, The hallowed ark of God. 67 The Home of Obed Edom And never strife nor clamor Shall break the tranquil spell In which our Lord's beloved Forever safely dwell. In the house of Obed Edom, In the sunlight or the dark, Abides the ceaseless blessing That rests within the ark. 68 HER WEDDING RING Fold the weary toil-worn hands On the quiet breast. All the tasks are finished now, Let her sleep and rest. Never gem of price had she, Never costly lace, Pain and sorrow wrought their lines On her patient face. But her wasted finger wears, Loose the golden band That had been a queenly sign On her faithful hand. King to consort could no more Than this symbol give. In her slender wedding ring Did such magic live, That she walked in modest pride On her thorny road. And with courage undismayed Bore her heaviest load. 69 Her Wedding Ring Fold her weary hands to-day, Softly o'er her sing. She was leal and loyal aye — See her wedding ring! There are those in purple drest, And with jewels brave, Who less royally step down To the regal grave. Never stain hath touched the hand That through loss and dole Kept the wedded honor safe, Kept the home-love whole. 70 ON CHRISTMAS MORN They fared across the lonely plains, They dared the desert way. Above them moved the starry trains That rest not, night nor day. One Star from out the splendor shone, A rift of heaven's own light, In fearless faith they followed on, Their eager faces bright. Three kings were they of great renown, And from the East afar, Until it stood o'er Bethlehem town, They journeyed by the Star. It stood above a cattle shed, And there its light grew dim. To heaven's own Child the Star had led ; Its glory paled for Him. Immanuel! A little Child That very day new-born. 71 On Christmas Morn They knelt before the undefiled That earliest Christmas morn. Each head was bent to give him praise. Their incense, gold and myrrh They offered Him in glad amaze Each humble worshiper. What gifts have we for Christ to-day? We, too, have seen the Star. And we have found the happy way To Bethlehem afar. Our gold, our myrrh, our incense sweet, Shall we not hither bring? Ah, let us haste to kiss His feet, The little Christ, our King. 72 THE ENGINEER Hand on the throttle, eye on the track, Steady and ready, grizzled and black, Brief of speech, the swift hours through, With the sense to see and the nerve to do ; By a touch controlling the tireless might That courses onward through day and night, Kin to danger but stranger to fear, This, is the flyer's engineer. As lover to lady he bends his gaze On the fierce companion his finger sways ; Other men, they have other jobs, His is to note how her great heart throbs. He wouldn't one whit be more content If he bore the name of President. Kin to danger but stranger to fear, A health to the flyer's engineer. There's the wife ! and a smile creeps 'round his mouth, 73 The Engineer As if the wind blew straight from the south ; There, tucked at home in their cozy beds Are the babies. Bless their curly heads! The wife and the bairns; in the back of his mind The watching angels those dear ones find. He never forgets them ; grizzled, black, Eyes like a flame on the forward track, ■ For this is his train that must forge amain Across prairie and valley and mountain-chain; To-morrow for love and love's sweet breath, To-day, perchance, 'tis a dance with death. Kin to danger and stranger to fear, Here's a health to the flyer's engineer. If somewhere there happen a misplaced switch, If somewhere there happen a bridgeless ditch, An open draw, or a broken rail, A signal blurred, or a loosened nail — He'll stick by his train as best he can, Die if he must — just an average man. A hero, dismissed in a single line, But haloed and starred in the Book Divine. Kin to danger and stranger to fear, Known as the flyer's engineer. 74i LUCY She was always little Lucy, always bent above a book; Something far away and thoughtful in her gen- tle, pensive look: Always with a magic secret bird and beast to woo and tame, Knowing every tree and flower, every bit of moss by name. Little Lucy when a maiden grave and eager, both in one, Faithful, fearless, self -forgetful, from the dawn till set of sun. Little Lucy to her lover when he sought her as his bride, Lucy, light upon his pathway, ever thenceforth true and tried. She was always little Lucy, busy to the very end; 75 ZMcy O the days were blank without her, she who was so staunch a friend, When she slipped into the darkness, in the noon- tide of the year, Quick the shadows round us gathered, and we missed her far and near. 76 CAPTAIN ABNER'S OPINION Give me the Bible, Jennie, the good old Book for me; The one I've loved and leaned upon in storms on land and sea. It's been a pillow for my head in many a sleep- less night, It's been a heaven-guiding star to give me cheer and light. Don't bring that new revision, I'm not in need of change, The music is not quite the same if chord and key are strange. I like the dear old-fashioned words I learned at mother's knee. Bring me the Bible, Jennie, the good old Book for me. Our parson in the pulpit explains the meanings well; 77 Captain Abner's Opinion To him the slightly altered phrase is like a silver bell. To me a change is out of tune ; it does not sound so sweet, You ken I'm watching daily for the Master's coming feet. I'm listening should He call me, I long His knock to hear; If for me He has a message, I want it plain and clear. I'm not a scholar, Jennie, I'm only what you see, And the Bible I have always had is the best of books for me. I sailed the ocean, Jennie, when I was but a lad ; Sea-faring men get close to God when tempests rave like mad. In the , darkness of wild weather the sky was overcast, But I trod the deck in safety and came to port at last. When the Master was on earth, dear, He seemed to like the sea, And once He hushed a driving storm on the Lake of Galilee ; 78 Captain Abner's Opinion When I was but a little chap I mind I used to look At a picture mother had of Him, 'twas in her dear old Book. At the wedding and the funeral, whene'er the heart is full, It craves the thing it understands, old memories tug and pull. To just an average man like me there comes a sense of loss, A feeling that a hand profane might touch the Crown and Cross; That from the East the Star might fade, the Manger disappear, The Virgin Mother and the Child grow dimmer year by year, If one by one the miracles were all explained away In the scientific brightness of our glaring mod- ern day. What I'm afraid of, Jennie, is the tiny entering wedge ; The field is bare to every one if a gap be in the hedge. 79 Captain Abner's Opinion I like my Bible as it is, a well of water sweet, Where thirsty souls may rest themselves, and drink, in sun and heat. The minister may need it, but we common folk can wait To find our new revision when we reach the pearly gate. I want it as it is, my dear, its pith and poetry ; Bring me my Bible, Jennie, the good old Book for me, / 80 TWO THANKSGIVINGS miss lucinda's. But why do I keep Thanksgiving? Did I hear you aright, my dear? Why? When I'm all alone in life, Not a chick or a child to be near, John's folks all away in the West, Lucy across the sea, And not a soul in the dear old home Save a little bound girl and me? It does look lonesome, I grant it ; Yet strange as the thing may sound, I'm seldom in want of company The whole of the merry year round — There's spring when the lilac blossoms, And the orchards flush to bloom, There's summer when great moths flit and glance Through the twilight's star-lit gloom. 81 Two Thanksgivings Then comes the beautiful autumn, When every fragrant briar, Flinging its garlands on fence and wall, Is bright as a living fire; And then the white, still winter time, When the snow lies warm on the wheat, And I think of the days that have passed away, When my life was young and sweet. I'm a very happy woman To-day, though my hair is white, For some of my troubles I've overlived, And some I keep out of sight. I'm a busy old woman, you see, dear, As I travel along life's road, I'm always trying as best I can To lighten my neighbor's load. That child? You should think she'd try me? Does she earn her bread and salt? You've noticed she's sometimes indolent, And indolence is a fault? Of course it is, but the orphan girl Is growing as fast as she can, And to make her work from dawn till dark Was never a part of my plan. 82 Two Thanksgivings I like to see the dimples Flash out on the little face That was wan enough, and still enough, When first she came to the place. I think she'll do, when she's older; A kitten is not a cat, And now that I look at the thing, my dear, I hope she'll never be that . I'm thankful that life is peaceful; I should just be sick of strife, If, for instance, I had to live along Like poor Job Slocum's wife ; I'm thankful I didn't say " yes," my dear — What saved me I do not see — When Job, with a sprig in his button hole, Once came a-courting me. I'm thankful I'm neither poor nor rich, Glad that I'm not in debt ; That I owe no money I cannot pay, And so have no call to fret. I'm thankful so many love me, And that I've so many to love, Though my dearest and nearest are all at home In the beautiful land above. 83 Two Thanksgivings I shall always keep Thanksgiving In the good old-fashioned way, And think of the reasons for gratitude, In December, and June, and May. In August, November and April, And the months that come between ; For God is good, and my heart is light, And I'd not change place with a queen. Of land I own no acre, nor wife or child have I, Up on the hillside yonder my dearest kindred lie. My youth I've left behind me, my years are growing few, But I can keep Thanksgiving with the happiest one of you. No man in this great world of God can hold the stars in fee, Or map for his advantage the wide and billowy sea. The sky, the fields, the open plain, the road I travel on Are mine to love, are mine for life, till sinks my latest sun. 84 Two Thanksgivings The children run to meet me, and clasp my wrin- kled hands, The babies prattle merrily, and Uncle under- stands. There's not a hearth-side in the town but has a place for me ; To many a heart both young and old, I have the comrade's key. The very dogs are friendly as I go about the town, The wild birds in the woodland at my call come flying down. I've never yet been lonesome though I've often been alone, For the little forest creatures are as children of my own. If the young folk want a frolic, I tune my fiddle strings, And up and down the barn they flit as if their feet were wings. If there's trouble in the village I can lend a hand to aid, And in fever spells and sickness I can nurse them undismayed. 85 Two Thanksgivings So, though I'm old and rather poor, I do not envy wealth. I'm tough and strong as some old tree, I know the joy of health. I try to live in thankfulness, I'm grateful all the way, I'm everybody's Uncle Rube when comes Thanksgiving day. Each table has a seat for me, each farmhouse counts me guest, The countryside is mine in love, not one than I more blest. I'll lift a song of praise to God, His happy child am I, Although I own no foot of land, beneath God's bending sky. 86 BUYING CHRISTMAS PRESENTS I've been buying Christmas presents, Roving from shop to shop ; I've a troop of friends to plan for, And I never know where to stop. I begin to save for December Before the first of May, And I'm bankrupt till the spring returns, After each Christmas day. I take my dearest dear ones First on my Christmas list — My rosy, dimpled darlings, With faces made to be kissed. And the lovely bright-eyed mother, Wherever she sets her chair, In the nursery or the parlor, The center of home is there. For her should be spoils of jewels, Velvet and lace in store, 87 Buying Christmas Presents Raiment to trail its splendors Over our homely floor. But her frown of grave discretion Still holds my zeal in check, And her gentle " Dear, be careful I " Is strong as a monarch's beck. And Tom, my sturdy first born, And my roguish, manly Fred, 'Tis little to think of skates for one, And the other must have a sled, And my dainty baby Margaret, And my winsome maiden Ruth, I'll see that their Christmas stockings Are full to the brim, in sooth. Next come a host of cousins — We are rich in kith and kin, Their numbers muster bravely, With the babies counted in. Beyond these are the needy Our Christmas feast to share, And the worn and heavy hearted, Who are ever in our care. 88 Buying Christmas Presents In flock the joyous children, Laden with fir and pine, And the scarlet holly berries, Their stars and wreaths to twine. I sit and watch and listen, Till I almost fall asleep, And over my weary senses The drifting odors sweep. And somehow, this Christmas fading, I am back in the long ago, When I was a jolly youngster Trudging to school in the snow. The dear old farmhouse kitchen And the old brown district school Come back like an angel's vision, Though stern I thought their rule. I have lost the sweet old mother, And the father strict and kind, Whose word was law to the children — A law they loved to mind. They are not on the earth for loving; They have left the weary road, And they hear the Christmas music On the golden hills of God. 89 Buying Christmas Presents But I'm better for their teachings, And on to the very end I will try to walk as they did, With the Christ for my blessed Friend. I will try to teach the children That love is the best of creeds, And that he who cares for his neighbor His own cause ever pleads. Yes, dear, it is " Merry Christmas ! " And you really should not scold If a man forgets at Christmas That he is not made of gold. Why, I've saved for my Christmas presents Quite since the first of May, And I like to be bankrupt for a while After the Christmas day. 90 FACE TO FACE WITH TROUBLE You are face to face with trouble, And the skies are murk and gray ; You hardly know which way to turn, You are almost dazed, you say. And at night you wake to wonder What the next day's news will bring ; Your pillow is brushed by phantom care With a grim and ghastly wing. You are face to face with trouble; A child has gone astray ; A ship is wrecked on the bitter sea; There's a debt you cannot pay ; Your brave right hand is feeble; Your sight is growing blind ; Perhaps a friend is cold and stern Who was ever warm and kind. You are face to face with trouble; No wonder you cannot sleep; 91 Face to Face With Trouble But wait, and think of the promise, The Lord will safely keep, And lead you out of the thicket, And into the pasture-land; You have only to walk straight onward, Holding the dear Lord's hand. Face to face with trouble ; And did you forget to look, As a good old father taught you, For help, to the dear old Book? You have heard the tempter whisper, And you've had no heart to pray, And God was dropped from your scheme of life, O! for many a weary day! Then face to face with trouble ; It is thus He calls you back From the land of dearth and famine To the land that has no lack. * You would not hear in the sunshine ; You hear in the midnight gloom; Behold. His tapers kindle Like stars in the quiet room. Face to Face With Trouble O! face to face with trouble, Friend, I have often stood; To learn that pain hath sweetness, To know that God is good. Arise and meet the daylight, Be strong and do your best With an honest heart, and a child-like faith That God will do the rest. 93 ABRAHAM LINCOLN Child of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil, Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil; God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van, In the stress of the wildest weather, when the na- tion needed a man. Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay, Patience to plan for to-morrow, valor to serve for to-day; Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest, Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull in his breast ! Met were the men and the hour, — man who was strong for the shock — 94 Abraham Lincoln Fierce were the lightnings unleashed: in the midst, he stood fast as a rock. Comrade he was and commander, he who was born for the time, Iron in council and action, simple, aloof and sublime. Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a breath, Only some lives are immortal, challenging dark- ness and death. Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write in the star-dust his name, Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame. 95 « LET NOT YOUR HEART BE TROUBLED " 'Twas the Master Himself Who said it To the sorrowful little band, Facing an hour, of darkness That they could not understand. The light of their lives was fading, Their eyes with tears were dim, The rugged men were shaken At the thought of losing Him. " Let not your heart be troubled." Never was voice so sweet, Never was look more kingly, Nor assurance more complete. " Let not your heart be troubled, Ye believe in God Most High, And one with God the Father, Equal with Him am I." 96 'Let not Your Heart be Troubled" " Let not your heart be troubled, In the day of an utter loss." It was Christ himself Who said it, Before Him the scourge and the Cross, It was Christ Himself Who said it To the loved He called His own, Before Him the resurrection And the seat on the Father's throne. " Let not your heart be troubled." Shall we take that comfort now? Why should we walk in darkness? Why furrow with pain the brow? Why should the little trials Loom large on the common road? Why should we tremble and falter At the weight of the daily load? " Let not your heart be troubled 'Twixt the darkness and the dawn, From the bitter cup of anguish Are draughts of sweetness drawn. Let not your heart be troubled Though ye stand by an open grave, Li the hour of deep bereavement Be confident and brave." 97 "Let not Your Heart be Troubled" " Let not your heart be troubled " At the thought of the vast unknown. Through the door at the end of the journey Ye shall not step alone. 'For He Who died to save you Shall come again at the last, And He will stay beside you Till death itself is past. " Let not your heart be troubled," The earth life is so brief, And evermore from heaven The angels bring relief. Look in the face of the Master, List to His gentle voice ; Whatever He choose to send you Look up, believe and rejoice. 98 THE SECRET OF PEACE Amid the clamor and the din, The tumult and the jarring chords, The sweetest peace shall enter in To whom can say, " I am the Lord's." Deep underneath the storm-swept sea An everlasting' calm abides; 'Tis theirs who list His " Come to Me," Across the waste of throbbing tides. What boots it that with meager fare And scanty store, the way we take; If we with Him a crust can share, He shall our loaf divinely break. Some little thing for Him to do, Some little word for Him to say, Some wandering soul to Him to woo, Some meeting with Him in the way, 99 The Secret of Peace And earth grows beautiful with heaven, And weakness clothes itself with strength. And love is freed from sordid leaven, And loss and pain are gain at length. To whom can say with fervent heart, And largess of the spirit's wealth, " I, with the Master, have my part," Come peace and hope and joy and health. Amid the clamor and the din, To whom can say, " I am the Lord's," The fullest peace shall enter in, And harmonize the jarring chords. 100 WHY DO YOU WORRY P Why do you worry, and pucker your brow, And walk with a down-cast, lowering look? You have only to struggle in Here and Now, You have turned no leaf in the Future's book. You are wearing yourself into shreds and bits, Over the ill that the morrow may bring, You are filling your day with absurd misfits, When you ought to be royal in robe and ring. The wee little bird in the fragile nest Is safe, though the tempest may rage abroad, The dear All-Father, Who loves you best, And cares for you ever, is Sovereign God. Why worry and fret over gain or loss, Why trouble yourself over earthly wealth, That may break like a bubble, the players toss? Why pine lest a robber should come by stealth? 101 Why Do You Worry? Why worry o'er illness, when God's kind hand Is ready to drive all pain away? Why shadow the light of this happy land, By treading in Misery's dreary way? There's nothing so foolish, believe me, friends, As the folly that eats like the moth and rust ; Tha!t refuses to take what the good Lord sends, And dims our gold with the trail of the dust. When we reach that door that shall let us in To the peace of Home, and the endless rest, We shall leave behind us strife and sin, And worry that darkens our lives at best. Why worry? O child of immortal birth, Forget the promptings that bind in thrall A soul that was sent to serve on earth, But must finally reign with the Lord of all. 102 THANKSGIVING We have so much to thank Thee for, Lord of the vintage and the sheaf, Of garden flower and forest leaf, Our praises climb to more and more. For never were our barns so pressed With golden weight of fragrant grain, And fruits that came in perfumed train, Till Nature bade the fair land rest. Our ships that furrow every sea Fare onward with the great world's bread ; The peoples from our granaries fed Send up their meed of thanks to thee. Lord of the wave, and of the shore, Lord of the winds that wander wide, Lord of the planets and the tide, We praise and bless Thee more and more. 103 Thanksgiving And most of all for household mirth, For mother's smile and lisp of child, For love by no false lure beguiled, We praise Thee, Lord of home and hearth. 104* SILVER OR COPPER? It was only a silver sixpence, Battered and worn and old, But worth to the child that held it As much as a piece of gold. A poor little crossing-sweeper, In the wind and rain all day — For one who gave her a penny There were twenty who said her nay. But she carried the bit of silver — A light in her steady face, And her step on the crowded pavement Full of a childish grace — Straight to the tender pastor; And " Send it," she said, " for me, Dear sir, to the heathen children On the other side of the sea. 105 Silver or Copper? " Let it help in telling the story Of the love of the Lord most high, Who came from the world of glory For a sinful world to die." " Send only half of it, Maggie," The good old minister said, " And keep the rest for yourself, dear ; You need it for daily bread." " Ah, sir," was the ready answer, In the blessed Bible words, " I would rather lend it to Jesus : For the silver and gold are the Lord's, " And the copper will do for Maggie." I think if we all felt so, The wonderful message of pardon Would soon through the dark earth go. Soon should the distant mountains And the far-off isles of the sea Hear of the great salvation And the truth that makes men free. 106 Silver or Copper? Alas ! do we not too often Keep our silver and gold in store, And grudgingly part with our copper, Counting the pennies o'er, And claiming in vain the blessing, That the Master gave to one Who dropped her mites as the treasure A whole day's toil had won? 107 ENNUI So very tired ! The days pass by One like its fellow, nothing bright Rifts the dull torpor of the sky, The hours creep on from morn till night. So very tired 1 No star of hope With beckoning ray points to the goal. There is no goal ! no gates that ope The prison of this weary soul. 108 WHOSE COMPASSIONS FAIL NOT You may weary your friend and neighbor, You may seek for his aid in vain, You may waste your strength and your labor, And your griefs, they may come in a train; No voice shall respond to your weeping; All ears shall be deaf to your cry, And sorrowful, waking or sleeping, The days of your years shall drift by. But the heart of the Father will hold you In love that can never let go. The grace of the Father will fold you The closer, the deeper the woe. You cannot wear out His compassion, You cannot waft one stricken prayer In your faltering timorous fashion, To His throne from your deeps of despair, 109 Whose Compassions Fail Not But swift shall He send you a guerdon, And more than you ask shall He give, And his hand shall unloose your great burden And free in His light shall you live. 110 THE SOUL'S SAFEGUARD When bitter winds of trouble blow, And thou art tossing to and fro, When waves are rolling mountains high, And clouds obscure the steadfast sky, Fear not, my soul ; the Lord is there. Betake thyself, my soul, to prayer. When in the dull routine of life Thou yearnest half for pain and strife, So weary of the commonplace, Of days that wear the self-same face, Think softly, soul; thy Lord is there. And then betake thyself to prayer. When brims thy cup with sparkling joy, When happy tasks the hour employ, When men with praise and sweet acclaim Upon the highway speak thy name, Then, soul, I bid thee have a care; Seek oft thy Lord in fervent prayer. Ill The Soul's Safeguard If standing where two pathways meet, Each beckoning thy pilgrim feet, Thou art in doubt which road to take, Look up, and say : " For thy dear sake - O Master! show Thy footprints fair — I'd follow Thee." Christ answers prayer. The tempter oft, with wily toil, Seeks thee, my soul, as precious spoil; His weapons never lose their edge, But thou art heaven's peculiar pledge, Though Satan rage, thy Lord is there — Dear soul, betake thyself to prayer. 112 ONE OF THESE DAYS One of these days it will all be over, Sorrow and laughter, loss and gain, Meetings and partings of friend and lover, Joy that was often tinged with pain. One of these days will our hands be folded, One of these days will the work be done, Finished the pattern our lives have molded, Ended our labor beneath the sun. One of these days will the heartache leave us, One of these days will the burden drop; Never again shall a hope deceive us, Never again shall our progress stop. Freed from the blight of the vain endeavor, Winged with the health of immortal life, One of these days we shall quit forever All that is vexing in earthly strife. One of these days we shall know the reason, Haply, of much that perplexes now; 113 One of These Days One of these days, in the Lord's good season, Light of His peace shall adorn the brow. Blessed, though out of tribulation, Lifted to dwell in His sun-bright smile, Happy to share the great salvation, Can we not patiently tarry awhile? 114 A HAPPY NEW YEAR (nABBY TO JOAN) When life was new and skies were blue, And all the world was blithe and true, It seemed a little thing to say, " I wish you, Love, a happy day ; " It were an easy thing, my dear, To wish you gladness and good cheer ; The words fell tripping from the tongue, White flakes were like rose-petals flung; With all to hope and naught to fear, Came laughing in each gay New Year. Together, wife, we've challenged life, We've braced to meet its utmost strife. Our hearts have not grown faint with time. Our feet are not too old to climb With sturdy step and fearless pace, Though slower in the onward race. Still do we gather roses red, Still march with brave uplifted head, 115 A Happy New Year And still at eventide we lift Our songs of praise through storm and drift; God grant us courage and good cheer t And so we'll hail a glad New Year. This land of ours where Fortune showers Her fairy gifts like summer flowers, Has given us no golden wealth, But only store of joy and health. Hard work we've known and scanty wage Upon our rugged pilgrimage. But we have earned before we've spent, Have dwelt in honor and content. No man we owe, no frown we fear: Well may we claim a happy year. O Love of mine, we shall not pine! There is no thought of thine or mine, As hand in hand we keep the road With cheer that lightens every load. Old years like shadows pass away, Just hour by hour and day by day. New Years appear in roseate grace, Our little home's a sunny place. God bless you comrade, leal and dear, God give us both a glad New Year. 116 THE BABY'S HAND Little roseleaf, dimpled hand, Fingers tightly holding mine; Not a grasp in all the land Half so strong as thine. 117 SHOW ME THYSELF When -the waves of trouble roll O'er the weary, burdened soul, Saviour, I shall strengthened be, If Thou show Thyself to me ! When the sun of joy is bright, And I revel in its light, Lest earth's bliss too dazzling be, Manifest Thyself to me! When I wander from the way, In the paths of danger stray, Bending down in mercy free, Saviour, show Thyself to me! Spirit, Comforter divine! Be my heart Thy blessed shrine! From the tempter's snares set free, Come and show Thyself to me ! 118 Show Me Thyself While earth's suns and shadows meet, Mingling round my pilgrim feet, Till in heaven I rest with Thee, Saviour, show Thyself to me! 119 JESUS HIMSELF DREW NEAR We had wrought till the brain was weary ; We had toiled till the hands were numb; The look of the day was dreary, And the song on our lips grew dumb. When lo ! in a sudden gleaming Came the glow of a wonderful cheer ; We were neither asleep nor dreaming, When the Master Himself drew near. Our hands that the tasks had hardened He held in a nail-pierced hand; Our hearts that were heavy and burdened He was swift to understand. All in an instant, heaven Had brought its brightness here; We had sinned, but were sin-forgiven: The Master Himself drew near. We sat in the halls of feasting; We were glad as the children are; 120 Jesus Himself Drew Near Over our path no shadow ; We had fought with never a scar. In the midst of our deep rejoicing Did there come a shiver of fear? Nay, foolish heart and faithless, For the Master Himself drew near. And He blessed the loaf, and brake it; And the cup Himself He poured; And He told us that joy and gladness Were ours in the light of the Lord; So we know that bliss or sorrow, The ache, or the smile, or the tear, Is each in its turn a blessing When the Master Himself draws near. So hallowed a thing is living, So beautiful daily toil, When the Christ we follow is giving Better than earthly spoil; So close are we held in His keeping, We never may doubt or fear; To His own, in waking or sleeping, The Master Himself draws near. 121 EACH BY NAME Never a little foolish lamb astray in the twi- light dim But the tender Shepherd knoweth its name, and calleth it home to Him. In the flock and the fold the sheep are His, and He keepeth them close in care; And each for itself in the Shepherd's heart hath its own peculiar share. Never a moor so wrapped in mist, nor a hill so gray and dun, But the Shepherd counteth His lambkins there, and watcheth them one by one. Never a day so bleak and chill, nor a night so dark and drear, But the tireless love of the Shepherd waits for the sheep that are passing dear. Never a weary, wayworn sheep in the great world flock to-day 1%% Each by Name But may hear the call of the Shepherd's voice, may follow Him and obey. The Shepherd hath ransomed the great world- flock, he hath bought it for His own; And He loveth and guardeth it one by one, as were each in the world alone. 123 WHEN JESUS CAME TO BETHLEHEM When Jesus came to Bethlehem, All in the rose of dawn, The music quivered like a flame From heaven's own glory drawn, The sky and earth were blended in A symphony of love What time there came to Mary's arms The Child from heaven above. A lowly place the stable was, Yet never palace halls Enshrined such brightness as was framed Within its glimmering walls, When Mary held her little one, And looked upon His face, And knew that God had given her The Child, to save the race. The little Christ-child was so sweet, Had you been there, or I, 124 When Jesus Came to Bethlehem We would have kissed those tiny feet, Have hushed that baby's cry ; We might have knelt, and offered gifts, Our gold, our spice, our myrrh ; We might have wreathed the manger with Our cedar, pine and fir. One day those little feet should tread The toilsome ways of men. One day those little hands be pierced — Did Mary dream it then? Ah, no, she only knew that heaven Had filled her soul with j oy, She bent in mother blessedness Above her firstborn Boy. Christ, give to us this Christmas day, Such love as here He brought To simple folk and kingly folk — Such grace as here He wrought In hearts of those who followed Him. Christ bless us all this day, And give us peace, and give us heaven To crown our pilgrim way. 125 LOVE'S GUEST When summer waned, and nights grew long, And winds blew cold across the sea, O homeless Saviour of mankind, There were who ministered to Thee. They gave Thee of their humble fare; Thy seat was close beside their fire, And Thou didst heal them of their hurt, Didst satisfy their heart's desire. Still art Thou homeless where the throngs Go hurrying past, nor think of Thee; As homeless yet as when the gales Stormed o'er the waves of Galilee. But, as of old, some door swings wide; Thou enterest, love's divinest guest; And, when Thou sharest loaf and cup, The lowliest meal is bright and blest. 126 Love's Guest There are who minister to Thee ; Lord, give us grace to join their band; To fare from dawn to evensong Thy comrades, in Immanuel's land. 127 OUR COUNTRY By the sweep of rejoicing rivers That rush to the mighty sea, By the waves on our coasts that thunder, By the winds that are wild and free, By the stars in heaven above us, By the forests of pine and palm, By the strength of the hearts that love us, By the valor serene and calm, Of our young men strong for toiling, Of our old men, wise and brave, By the Glory of days departed, By many a hero's grave ; Oh blessed, beautiful country, We pledge thee our deathless faith. The thought of an ill that can wound thee, We flout as a bloodless wraith. Oh beautiful, blessed country, God-given for all the world, 128 Our Country For the poor and the alien ever Be the flag of thy stars unfurled. From the ends of the earth they seek thee, Down-trodden and long oppressed; From the mystic East they are hasting To the light of the glowing West. There is room for the child and the mother, Room for the peasant-born, Room where we till our vineyards, Room where we plant our corn. Let the weary ones find shelter And the lowliest ones a home, Here where thine arms enfolds them With greetings for all who come. Oh beautiful, blessed country, God meant for the wide, wide world; Let the gifts of thy generous bounty Fail not till thy flag is furled. By the wealth of the ore beneath thee, By thine acres of golden wheat, By the flowers in field and garden, By the laughter of children, sweet, By the treasure that God hath sent thee, By the freedom of church and press, 129 Our Country Thou art pledged to rescue the starving And succor the world's distress. Thou must break to the famine stricken The bread that belongs to thee, Thou must tell the sad and lonely The love that is theirs to be. By the Cross of Christ and His passion, In the might that is born of prayer, Oh beautiful, blessed country Thou must lighten the earth's despair. 130 THE WHITE ROSE-BUSH You see when the white rose blooms again, A sweet old-fashioned flower of June, That has smiles of love for the wind and rain, And is somehow with bees and birds atune. It is not the rose for the florist's shop, It is meek and lowly and has no pride; But I treasure its petals as they drop ; It was grandmother's rose, when she came a bride: Leaning so tenderly on his arm, When grandfather brought her home to the farm. She was small and lissome, a brown-haired girl, With eyes that were bits of the sky so blue. She had given herself to the wooer bold Who had pledged his troth to be ever true. The rose-bush tapped in a friendly way On the pane, when their first home-meal was spread, 131 The White Rose-Bush And it wafted its perfume many a day To the wife as she kneaded her sweet home bread. They told their love, their secrets dear, Oh, years and years, where the rose could hear. Patter, patter, came tiny feet Running over the kitchen floor; Prattle and lisp, came voices sweet Echoing round the kitchen door. And the dimpled fingers clutched at the bloom When summer by summer the white rose smiled And added its gladness to roof and room Gay with the grace of many a child. Through sunshine and snowfall the children grew, And they knew the rose but never the rue. The children are scattered wide and far; There are strangers now in the dear old place ; Men born under a distant star, Women who come of an alien race. 132 The White Rose-Bush The old folks sleep on the .hill-slope where The wild winds murmur and wail at night; Side by side, with never a care, They fell asleep in the waning light. Deep and peaceful is their repose ; I would 'twere under the old white rose. 133 WHY? Why look at the shadow Unless to remind Your heart, that the sunbeam Is somewhere behind, Unless to reflect that both shadow and shine Are sent by the love of the Father Divine? 134 OUR SOLDIER BOYS Forgotten in their quiet beds, the silent soldiers sleep, Above them all the flitting years, the stars like sentries stand: These men, who in their joyous youth, left off to sow and reap, And marched, and fought, and died, to save their honored native land. They hear no tocsin as they lie, with faces sky- ward turned; The flag they loved above them flies ; its folds they cannot see. And most who mourned them once, are gone. No grieving heart hath yearned Of late, to have them back again in earth's great family. Yet precious in the Father's sight, the sacrifice they made ; And well remembered at the throne, the names that here they bore. 135 Our Soldier Boys For not in vain these heroes knelt and felt faith's accolade, And went to fame's Valhalla to be knightly evermore. Our roses wet with shining dew, our lilies stain- less white, Our flowers plucked by gentle hands, upon their graves we'll lay. And somehow, we are sure, that they are hal- lowed in God's sight, These who were true, though some wore blue, and some wore sadder gray. 130 BETWEEN THE SHEARS Both sides are standing firm, Jaws set, eyes stern, hands clenched, Neither will yield an inch, Not a face has wavered or blenched. Masters and men alike Have the battle-joy in their blood; Week after week of the strike, And neither has aught to the good. But step this way, if you please: — Look at the bowed gray head! See the women on their knees, Hear the children crying for bread! Rust on the workman's tools ; Rust in the rich man's heart; Dust in the locked-up mills ; And the wage and the work apart. 137 Between the Shears And the children crying for bread. The children are wanting shoes ; What does it matter who wins, Whether they gain or lose? The cloth between the shears, Are the old, and the little ones, And the wives, who bear the brunt, 'Twist rising and setting suns. 138 WHEN SUMMER ENDS When Summer sifts her latest sands, And the Autumn's at the door, When far and wide the golden lands, Are bare as broom-swept floor; When all the fruit is gathered in, And all the vines are sere, Then thou and I shall face, my love, The Winter of the year. Then thou and I shall bar the door, And light the ruddy flame, And tell the summer's gladness o'er, And tell how love first came; Nor will we grieve for summer gone, Beside that glowing fire, When winter dusk and winter dawn Chill not our heart's desire. 139 MARY O Mother Mary, did you see The shadow-cross that followed Him, When playing near the olive tree, What time the day grew dim? Mother Mary, did you hear The mocking cries that hooted Him, When He came from the synagogue, What time the day grew dim? " Nay," sweetly comes the answer now, Prom heights of heaven, " I never feared : 1 only knew my Child of Heaven Was more then He to men appeared. " I only watched, and loved Him well ; I knew but vaguely, in my heart ; I often pondered many things What time I sat apart. 140 Mary " And when His baby head was pressed Against my throbbing heart, I prayed God keep the nursling on my breast: My heart was not afraid." 141 AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN Four o'clock and prince's feather, Lady-slippers, wilding thyme, Pinks and purple flox together, Ribbon grass to bind my rhyme, And the lilies in the middle, And the roses at the rim, Color, scent, and tangled beauty, Filled that garden to the brim. 14$ IN THE SHADOW — A REQUIEM In the shadow as in the shine, I have loved you, dearest, and called you mine. I have known your truth in the cloudy day, I have walked with you on the world's high- way. Step by step in our ups and downs, In the lonesome dale, in the thronging towns, Comrades together have been we two When skies were gray, when skies were blue. Now, when the veil has dropped between The world we see and the world unseen, Now, when I sit here, all bereft, When you are taken, and I am left, I am glad for the years in shadow and shine When love made water the richest wine, 143 In the Shadow— A Requiem When the crust was a feast, and the loaf was shared, And nothing we feared and all things dared. You are surely waiting, wherever you are, Till the door you passed through shall swing ajar, And let me in to touch your hand And make you at home in the strange new land ; For as certain am I, as I live by breath, That love is stronger and greater than death, And they who have loved, shall win at last To the glory where death is forever past. 144 WHEN SOUTH WINDS BLOW There is not a windy corner left Where the bitter gales were sharp, That is not this morning, music-cleft By the sound of the zephyr's harp. The south winds blow, and the buds unclose, The daffodils laugh in light; We are hurrying on to the day of the rose, And the winter has taken flight. There is not a copse, a wood, a grove, Where the trees stand green and fair, But the birds are singing of life and love, And mating and nesting there. The south winds blow and the household eaves Are sweet with the fledglings' cry, And the mother-bird through the bowering leaves, Looks up to the soft blue sky. 145 When the South Wind Blows There is not a heart so sad and dull That it is not glad to-day, When Nature is holding a cup so full Its honey brims over the way — The weary way, that we often tread; And the path is not hard to go, When the sun of the spring shines overhead And we hear the south wind blow. 146 BROTHERHOOD (At a great fire in Paterson, New Jersey, eight churches were destroyed. On the following Lord's Day, the First Presbyterian Church held services in a Jewish Temple.) Not as once in the court of the Gentiles By the Hebrew, held sternly aloof, But, by brotherly kindness invited, The Christians meet under the roof Of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, And the aisles of the synagogue ring To the psalm of the multitude singing That the crucified, Jesus, is King! Oh, love that no scorning can tire, Oh, Fire that purgeth our dross ; Bring thou to this earth its desire, Bring gain to repay every loss. We thank Thee that nearer and dearer Thou drawest in brotherhood's bands, Men, severed for long by their hatred ; Now clasping in friendship, their hands. 147 A YELLOW LEAP All summer's gold, All autumn's light In that bright leaf That lives till night, Then falls asleep, And fades away! Ah, leaf, so brief Thy splendid stay. Good-by until Another day. 148 LOOMS Our looms are full of noisy zeal, God's looms go softly whirring From start to stop, from dawn to eve, Without the sound of stirring. From leaf to sheaf the looms of God Go singing of His glory; And everywhere, in sky and sod, We read His wondrous story. 149 A YOUNG GIRL Through the mist of the years that are finished and over, Through the waft of the scent of the blush-red clover, Through the ripple of waves that I've heard on the beach, Through the lisp of breezes too soft for speech, I see and I hear her, a vision fair, That beautiful girl at the head of the stair. When the roses bloom as they bloomed divinely, When the shorn wheat lies in the swathe su- pinely, When the oriole high in his nest is swinging, When the hermit thrush in the copse is singing, I see and I hear her, though none is there — The girl who sits at the head of the stair. She was tidy and neat with a dainty trimness ; She was slender and tall with a lissome slimness ; 150 A Young Girl She was golden-haired and her eyes were glint- ing With a blue of the heart of the heavens hinting, And none among maids could at all compare With the radiant girl at the head of the stair. Ah, me ! for the days that are gone forever ; Ah, me! for the youth that returneth never; There are girls and girls whom I often meet, At home, by the way, in the house, on the street, But never a girl who is half so fair As the one who sat at the head of the stair. And the worst of it is, if she still be living In this land where Time is both taking and giving, She has lost some bit of her sweet rose-shading, For Time is a thief who is always raiding, And she's far too stout to be sitting there, As the girl she was, at the head of the stair. 151 THE GREAT MEN PASS The great men pass. We stand appalled, and say, " How shall we live, when these have left our day? How shall we fight when splendid leaders fall, How work, when silent is their bugle call? " Ah, friends, the great men pass, but greatness lives! Strength for the work, the Master workman gives. From heaven's high wall of jasper true and clear, Rings out the clarion call ; we need not fear. God's battles do not cease. Still in the van The Captain's banner flies; the Son of Man, True Son of God, and deathless, leads the way. To-morrow shall make up for yesterday. 153 The Great Men Pass The great men pass, but pass into the light, Their brave feet climbing up some heavenly height. We need not fear, or great, or small, if we Are workers for the vast eternity. 153 PAY DAY Take your pleasure, idle one, But when falls the set of sun And the day's long stunt is done, Pay-day comes! If you have the work forgot ; Shirked the duty, left the spot Of your labor unimproved, Think not, even the most beloved Of your friends, or kith, or kin, Shall find room to shelter in Their sweet homes One who all engrossed with play Overlooked the stern pay-day. 154 NOT ALONE When our dear ones leave us One by one, Never on the strange path Do they go alone. Swift as light from heaven, Swift as love, Comes the Lord to meet them, Hasting from above. Little child, or pilgrim, Worn and old, Do not have to wander Looking for the fold. For the Christ who brought us Heaven's grace, Takes their hand and guides them To His dwelling-place. 155 THE SEAT OF THE SCORNFUL It wasn't so much the thing you said, 'Twas the way you looked when you said it; The scornful lip, and the toss of your head, And your smile ; for a sneer she read it. You hurt a heart that had need of cheer ; You made a bright day dark, And — the wing of a dove was drifting near — You bolted the door of the ark. There's a wonderful help in a gentle word, If the truth of love go with it ; It's like the pool by the angel stirred, If the strength of faith flow with it. A tone, a glance, a touch of the hand, The thought of the common bond, They aid one on through the desert land To the rest of the home beyond. 156 WAR AND PEACE War, and nations clutching madly In a bout of deadly strife, Each with furious hate and anger Menacing the other's life ; War, and battles in the open ; War, and grief on land and sea ; Who shall count the sum of bloodshed, Who shall gauge its misery? Peace, and lo ! the ploughshare driven Deep into the teeming soil; Peace, and lo ! the ships that furrow Every wave, with fruits of toil; Peace, and songs above the cradle ; Peace, and heaven let down to earth ; Who shall estimate its blessings, Who shall gauge its ceaseless worth? 157 A FINISHED PAGE When the last word is written, And the final word is said ; When the last pang is over, And you sit beside the dead, With your heart dumb and smitten, As you watch by her bed; You'd give the whole world, then, For just one chance more ; To say, " Dear, I love you " ; To tell her o'er and o'er That her look was a blessing When she stood by the door. That you never meant to hurt her; That deep down in your soul, There was truth to her, turning As the needle to the pole ; That without her, life was empty; And with her, it was whole. 158 A Finished Page But you let the days drift onward. Till there came the last day ; And she was called to heaven, And you had here to stay; And you're wrapped in numb silence ; For there's naught left to say, Since the final word was written, And the final word is said, And you're sitting, dumb and smitten, Close by your darling's bed, And your darling lies there sleeping — Fast asleep: for she is dead. 159 WHEN HEAVEN RAINS FLOWERS In these blithe days of summer and sun, And air is crystal and skies are bright, And in long white hours our work is done, And slowly, dreamily falls the night — In these blithe days, heaven rains down flowers, Daisies and roses, and all things fair ; And there's never a hidden corner or nook In the great green country, but flowers are there. 160 SHIP AHOY! Ship ahoy! with rainbow tints and sails out- spread, Unfearing, eager winds ahead, With freight of joys and gifts of tears, O latest ship of all the years, How shall we greet thee? What hast thou So gallant and so shining now For us, who wave the friendly hand To waft thee to thy far-off strand? Ship ahoy ! The far eternities in thee Have made investments large and free; Thou holdest Nineveh and Rome, And our own country's lowliest home Safe in thy fold ; the waves that break Before, or slumber in thy wake, First caught their sheen when God, at flood Creative, saw, and called them good. O little ship of mien so fair, So christened by our yearning prayer, 161 Ship Ahoy! What bearest thou to hearts that long For work or wage, or place or song? Ship ahoy! To troublous times and stormy seas, To wildest gale and softest breeze, To orchard scents and vesper sighs, To lilt of birds and April skies, To battlefields and banners torn, To many a sombre night and morn, Thou bearest them who sail with thee ; Shall they escape eternity, Who on thy deck set foot and glide With thee, upon the unknown tide? Ship ahoy! We sail, and drifting, to our ears Comes music born in distant spheres. We sail, and lift a fervent psalm : In tempest safe, and safe in calm. For lo ! thy captain knows the way Through every path of night and day, Thy captain, who forever keeps His word, and never, heedless, sleeps. The ships pass by, oh ! many a ship ; In time's deep currents swift they dip. 162 Ship Ahoy! The ships pass by, the shore abides, Unwrecked by all the restless tides. One day we'll need the ships no more, Safe moored on the eternal shore. Ship ahoy ! 163 COUNSEL Friend, when your heart is heavy, And you know not where to turn, When the years lie dark behind you And their blistering memories burn, Arise, and fling them from you — The thoughts that poison sleep ; And pray the Lord's good angels Around you ward to keep. Nay, dwell not with the sorrow Of the fruitless might-have-been; Nor waste in vain repinings, The strength the day might win. Arise, and march straight forward, And face the years to be, And pray the Lord of angels To send you victory. 164 WHITE LILACS Beside our Aunt Rebecca's door, With waft of scent and lift of plume, When Spring comes dancing back once more, The dear white lilacs bloom. They brush the lowly latticed pane, So honey-sweet they are, and bold, In sparkling sun and sudden rain, They keep the grace of old. But much they marvel where away Hath passed the tall and stately dame, Who always knew the lilacs' day, Who kissed them when they came. She brought them welcome from the years, That wrought in her such bourgeoning Of beauty, that time's last arrears Were paid her in the spring. 165 White Lilacs Beneath the kerchief folded plain Across^ her gown of quiet gray, She kept the girl's heart, glad and fain, The joyous hope of May. And though men thought her old and worn, And angels saw the living truth, And knew her, child of love and morn, The lady fair in sooth. So bloom for her, beside her door, Dear lilacs that she loved to greet. Lift snowy plume, and waft before Her silent house, your sweet. 160 A RIME OF POETS DEAD Some one said the other day The poets all were dead, We need not hope to wreathe the bay For any living head. The Muses frighted cannot rest, Amid our modern stir ; And fancies rove in bootless quest Urged on by Money's spur. " No atmosphere," the pessimist, With mournful murmur cried, Yet, still the skies are amethyst At morn and eventide. And still the little ripples break In music on the beach ; The robins at the dawn awake Sweet songs that need not speech. 167 A Rime of Poets Dead Along the yellow shingle, creams The wonder of the surf; The hooded violet nods and dreams Above the velvet turf. A thousand birds are on the wing ; The nests are woven fair; And million-fold the branches swing In blossom-tinted air. Of song and scent the world is full, As erst before the sage To Maiden Science went to school In this amazing age. And if the poets, dazed, are crushed Beneath the awesome weight Of great inventions that have rushed Adown the paths of fate, Dame Nature regnant and serene, And rich with wealth untold, Still holds, her royal hands between, A cup of carven gold. 168 A Rime of Poets Dead It overbrims with honeyed wine, It spills upon the ground, Its precious sweets are thine and mine The beauteous world around. Some morn the poets will arise And as in Homer's day, Shall call on wood and wave and skies To list the words they say. The things they see, with vision clear, That thing their lips shall sing ; Unto some glory of the year Their splendid chords shall ring. For Love and Life and Home abide, # And hearts are aye the same; And every common highway side Is rimmed with kindling flame. Ah, no I The poets never die ! Bring garlands ; do not list To any low despairing cry Of modern pessimist. 169 A MEMORY She loved her life, and from it she has gone ; Vanished as softly as a mist at dawn. She loved her friends; they miss her more and more: Death took her suddenly ; and locked the door. She loved her work ; 'twas finished when she went To other work, and higher, well content. For her dear sake, all work shall henceforth be More sacred and more beautiful to me. 170 ONE COAT AND TWO SMALL BOYS Blue-eyed and freckled-faced, as like as brothers were the boys, So starved and thin, one saw at once that few had been their joys. They trotted down the street that day, as cold as cold could be, But Timmy had an overcoat, and Jack, no coat had he. And every little while they stopped, and off came Timmy's coat, And Jackie slipped it on, and hugged the gar- ment to his throat. Then, warmed a bit, he slipped it off, and Timmy wore it then, And thus, like soldiers, on they marched, the valiant little men. Oh, city full of millionaires ! Oh, nation, pass- ing proud, 171 One Coat and Two Small Boys With wealth that clamors to the skies ! amid the hurrying crowd That thronged the path, that bitter day went poverty and pain, And did not lift a grieving eye, nor murmur nor complain. One overcoat between them; the brothers bore the brunt Of sleet and frost, and trod the street like heroes at the front. God grant them yet a better day with plenty in their hand, The little loving brothers, now, step-children of this land! 172 THE STING OF IT Now, this is the thing that hurts me As I look at her vacant chair ; As I hear my heart-beat throbbing In the empty desolate air ; I could better bear the sorrow, I could easier stifle the moan, If when she were here, so often I had not left her alone. I knew she was watching for me, I knew she was waiting there, And I took her love for granted — I tell you, it wasn't fair. Many a time I loitered When I might have hurried home, And to-day there is no one to greet me, To care, if I go or come. No, she never complained of my coldness ; As proud as a queen was she, 173 The Sting of It Always the same sweet woman And all that a wife could be. But the little grieved droop at the corners Of the rosebud mouth I knew; And the smile that was wan and fading, And the pain in the eyes so true. They told their tell-tale story: I read it and went away. Though I meant not half the trouble ; What good does that do to-day, When the little hands are folded And the beautiful face is hid, And the joy of my life is buried Under a coffin-lid? The doctor said nothing could save her ; I feel in the dead o' the night, That / might have saved my Mary If only I'd loved her right. A flower is chilled by the frost-blight, And love can be winter-killed ; And that is the ceaseless bitter In memory's cup distilled. 174. The Sting of It And this is the sting of remembrance, As over her grave I bend — I treated her worse than a foe, when She was dearer than dearest friend. And too late I sit in my sorrow And try to keep back the groan. There's nothing so mean on the planet As the meanness that hurts one's own. 175 FATHER A little stooped, a trifle gray, The old man plods the weary road ; Continual work, but little play, No shirking of the heavy load. Just growing old, and bearing care That few observe, and fewer share. Years hence perhaps, his boys grown up To man's estate, will better know The bitterness that brimmed the cup Of " Father " in the long ago ; So little spoken love was his, So many joys he seemed to miss. 176 EMBER-GLOW The year is almost gone, Love, The year is almost gone, Another windy twilight, Another dark night on, A dawn, a noon, a midnight, And then the solemn bell That strikes the passing of the year We two have known so well. Beside the rose-red embers That fade to ashen gray, We two shall sit together And speed the year away. Another year is coming, O Love, may it be fair, And still, may we, hand clasping hand, Its changeful seasons share. 177 LITTLE THINGS Such little things that parted us, Not worth the telling over; Such trifles that were as the breeze That bends the blush-red clover; But oh ! a breeze may make a gale, A trifle wreck a life, And little, little, little things May waken deadly strife. 178 THY TASK A wrong that may be righted, A pain that may be healed, A grief that may be lessened, A ray of truth revealed ; A word in season spoken, An aid in season given, This be thy task to do, dear friend, With faith in God and heaven. Wherever want and weakness Amid the gloom abide, Wherever ill and malice In craven ambush hide, There find thy field to battle, Nor any hardship rue, For in the strength of heaven Thy task is there to do. 179 A CAUTION Is there something one can do for mother, When the shoulders bow a little with the load? Is she not more dear than any other? Can one somehow help her onward on the road? Mother never thinks that she is tired, Mother never of her toil complains ; She would say that nothing she desired ; Seldom does she speak of aches and pains. Yet 'tis afternoon, and growing dreary; All her youth is wanting, and the gray Of a chilly twilight finds her weary ; She is old and near the end of day. Make her stop and take her share of pleasure, Let her have the journey and the rest ; Give her now and then a little leisure; And insist on giving her the best ! 180 A Caution Second-best will do for Sue and Mary, With their merry life, a rose in bloom: Of the mother's joy and hope be chary, Lest she slip away, and all be gloom. 181 THANKFUL " I ought to be thankful," she said, " I have much to make me so, But if I were truly thankful, I wouldn't be cross, I know. " I wouldn't be horrid and hateful And fret at the prayers denied: I would put my foot on anger, And trample on folly and pride. " I'll try to be thankful, looking At the bright side, not at the dark, And perhaps in really trying, I'll nearer approach the mark." 182 AFTERMATH Oh, reaped and bare the pasture lay And shorn the meadows, lately gay ; But better suns and gentler showers, And brooding of the loving hours, Have brought sweet gifts ; the valley hath, To-day, its fragrant aftermath. And sweet as emerald is the grass, Where soft the velvet shadows pass, And fluttering at its garment's hem, Are flowers a queen might, leaf and stem, Wear on her breast ; and brimming o'er, Is beauty's chalice, filled once more ! 183 ROBIN IN THE TREE-TOP Robin in the tree-top, Fluting cheerily, What's your merry message, Robin, dear, to me? Robin bids me waver Never, come what may; Robin bids me take the road As for holiday. Robin in the tree-top, Singing all day long, Thank you, bird of gladness, For your cheery song. 184 PRISCILLA She stepped from the frame of a picture Into a dream of mine, The beautiful maid, Priscilla, With her look of auld lang syne. Never was face more winsome, Never was voice more sweet, Never was maiden fairer From her head to her little feet. I wakened, and lo! beside me Was a damsel just as fair, With eyes like the stars of heaven And gold in her waving hair. Long time ago was Priscilla Beloved by old and young ; Her beauty limned by painters, Her charms by the poets sung. 185 Priscilla But this child of to-day inherits The grace of the Puritan line, And the face of the modern maiden Is the face in that dream of mine. 186 A CHEERY WORD Just a cheery word, dear, Just a pleasant glance — And the world grows brighter, And the pulses dance. Cost of loving-kindness, Worth its weight in gold, Is so small that never Shall that cost be told. Meeting on the pavement — In the busy throng, Let your gay " Good morning " Leave a lilt of song ! Passing on the corner, When the shadows fall, Drop a genial greeting ; Smile, if that is all ! 187 A Cheery Word Fellow rather troubled, Crushed by hapless luck, Gathers up his courage, Faces life with pluck, All because your cordial Hail, upon his way, Told him that the morrow'd Bring another day ! 188 I WISH YOU JOY I wish you joy, beloved! I do not know, my dear, What path is stretching out before Your feet in this new year. But this Fm fain to say ; The transient pang will pass As ripples on the summer brook, Or shadows on the grass. Pain smites and comes to end, Tis joy alone abides: Tis joy that like the morning light from heaven exulting glides. I wish you joy, beloved! Not gems, nor gold, nor lands ! But only joy, the gift of gifts, Straight from our Father's hands. 189 THE DOOR-STEP Father in his shirt-sleeves with his pipe, Mother sitting, folded hands, all her dishes done. Evening stealing softly on, and in the sky, Afterglow resplendent; good-by sun. Down beside the bars, a maiden and a man, Ruth, and young Leander — neighbor's boy ; Father looks at mother, smiles and nods, " No doubt that's settled — wish 'em joy." 190 THE SAME SWEET TALE Beside the kitchen window Stands Norah, shy and fair, And Michael, something flustered, Is loathe to leave her there. " Come out with me my sweetheart, Come out and see the stars, Come drive with me, and hear the surf That breaks across the bars ! "^For it's oh! I love you Norah, Your true love I would be ; Come leave the close hot kitchen, Come out of doors with me. In the filmy curtain's shadow, In the stately drawing-room, Waits dainty Ethel, peerless As ever a rose in bloom. 191 The Same Sweet Tale And Archie suave and gallant, Bows low before her grace, And all his heart is written Upon his honest face. " For it's I that love you, Ethel, Your true love I would be ; My car is waiting at the door, Come forth and ride with me I " 192 ABSENT A year ago, her hand in mine, We strolled through forest pathways dim. We watched the golden eve decline, We listened to the thrushes' hymn. But all unseen an angel near Was waiting, soon to claim his own. I wander lone and weary here — She dwells in heaven's radiant zone. So, drifting fast, these summer days Bring only memories to me, And yet the hours are full of praise, That bird and brook and flower and tree, Are full of her, who loved them so. She is not here, but where she stays, The endless summer blooms, I know ; And she is in its heart of praise. 19S Absent Ah me ! the drifting summer days ; To you they bring but love and cheer. For me are shadowed all their ways, The one I long for is not here ! 194 LIFE Life is too brief Between the budding and the falling leaf, Between the seed-time and the golden sheaf, For hate and spite. We have no time for malice and for greed: Therefore with love make beautiful the deed; Fast speeds the night. Life is too swift Between the blossom and the white snow's drift, Between the silence and the lark's uplift, For bitter words. In kindness and in gentleness our speech Must carry messages of hope, and reach The sweetest chords. Life is too great Between the infant's and the man's estate, Between the clashing of earth's strife and fate, For petty things. 195 Life Lo ! we shall yet who creep with cumbered feet, Walk glorious over heaven's golden street, Or soar on wings ! 196 BE BRAVE Darling, whatever may happen, as you have a soul to save, Pace the worst like a soldier, ever be true and brave. The craven is always worsted ; the craven is sure to fail, But the brave heart weathers the tempest and dares the uttermost gale. 197 HOPE Through the winter drear and cold, Shone the spring with heart of gold. Tinkling music sweet and clear, They who had an ear could hear, Voices of the coming day, When the brooks should leap and play. When the leaf and blossom fair Whispering gladness everywhere, Birds should flit and blithesome wing, Herald all the joy of spring. Though the days be long to wait, Though the heart be desolate, Ever through the darkest hour Thrills the future's radiant flower. Ever gates of glory ope At the gentle touch of Hope. 198 LOVE When you sum up the year With its glory of leaves, Its seed-time and harvest, Its buds and its sheaves ; — When you get to December, You sing the same tune That 'twas sweet to remember And carol, in June. From the day of your youth To the day of white age, Through the book of your life To the very last page, When comes a great angel The " Finis " to write, The same true evangel Is aye your delight. There be those who will tell you Of jewels and gold, Of investments, a story Of wonder unfold. 199 Love One dividend never Will fail to impart The self -same wealth ever, To dower the heart. Let the spring zephyrs blow, Or the winter winds howl, Let fortune smile blandly Or sullen fate scowl. From June to December, What sky arch above, To life's very last ember, Life's crowning is LOVE. 200 JOURNEY'S END We run the race full merrily, Old Time and we together, And little care have Youth and Love For stress of wind and weather ; The dancing heart they carry weighs As light as floating feather. We run the race full sturdily, With Time, when we are older ; We dare him bravely though we bear A burden on the shoulder. And if he gain upon our pace We face him, but the bolder. We run the race full gallantly (The road in need of mending), When Time, derisive, sees us near The Inn of Journey's Ending; And swift along the down-hill slopes Our pilgrim steps are bending. 201 Journey's End We run the race triumphantly, For Time must break his tether; There comes a day we pass beyond His realm of changeful weather; Eternity must win, and we And it, go home together.