LlBPulRY OF CONGRESS. jy/u,/^ .,.D... UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. n'%.'^''?^'^v' |.'^'5$-;-'%-<5^-''^^>'5^^^'^'^ I POEMS BY SAMUEL B. SUMNER CHAELES A. SUMNER. NEW TOKK : THE AUTHOES' PUBLISHING COMPANY. 1877. Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1877, by S. B. SUMNEE, In the Office of tlie Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. DEDICATION. TO THE MEMOET OF OUE MOTHEE, PLUMA AMELIA BAKSTOW SUMNEB, LONG SINCE DEAD, FROM WHOSE CUIiTTJBED UPS WE LEAENED OUB TTEST AND BEST LESSONS, THIS VOLUME 13 AFFEC- TIONATELY INSCETBED. PEEFACE The following verses and rhymes, written at different periods of our lives, and alternating from grave to gay, will not lack variety at least ; and will afford some entertainment, we trust, to all classes of our readers. Several pieces may be deemed lacking in dignity or poetic art, many are juvenile compositions, and many are of special local interest ; but for reasons which will be obvious, and by advice of those whose judgment we value, we insert them in this collection. Not without timidity, but relying upon the public indulgence, we launch this little venture on the uncertain sea. CONTENTS. PAGE. The True Life— A Eh^^med Sermon.— S. B. S H Music— S. B. S 35 The Irretrievable,— C. A. S 37 A Valentine. — S. B. S ai Valentine— To L.— S. B. S 42 One Valentine's Night.— C. A. S 43 After a Lover's Quarrel.— S. B. S 45 Ode— July 4th, 1850.— S. B. S 4g Why I Weep.— S. B. S ' ^ \* 4g Valentine.— S. B. S 5q A Song for the Boys.— S. B. S 5I Ii-eland's Opportunity.— C. A. S 53 To Helen— S. B. S gg The Fall of the Year— S. B. S * ' * 58 Hope.— C. A. S gg Lines Written in an Album.— S. B. S 60 To a Lady on Beceiving a Bouquet.— S. B. S 62 A Combat— C. A. S g4 Bamum's Baby Show— 1855.— S. B. S 68 Memory and Hope.— C. A. S 72 Lines Bead at a Supper of Company C, 1st BattaUon In- fantry, Massachusetts Volunteers, 1855.— S. B. S 76 Female Equestrianship.— S. B. S 80 Lines for St. John's Day.— C. A. S 83 Christmas Lines to Three Boarding. School Misses.— S. B. S.. 87 Lines Read at Children's Festival, Jaly 4th, 1856.— S. B. S. . 89 vii Viii CONTENTS. PAGE. Old Scenes.— C. A. S 95 Valentine— The Lady Helen.— S. B. S 102 Lines to Ada.— S. B. S 104 Touches and Hints — Poem Delivered at Zeta Psi Banquet, California.— C. A. S 105 Lines for St. John's Day, Great Barrington, Mass. — S. B. S. . 117 Verses Read on St. John's Day, Pittsfield, Mass.— S. B. S. . . 121 Lines Read on St. John's Day, Lee, Mass. — S. B. S 125 To Belle.— C. A. S 129 Atlantic Cablt, Poem.— S. B. S 132 Two Weeks.— C. A. S 136 Lines Read at Dedication of Alumni Hall, Williams Col- lege.— S. B. S 137 Helena.— C. AS 144 Verses Read at Great Barrington, July 4th, 1861.— S. B. S. . . 145 Memories.— S. B. S 148 Poem Delivered before I. 0. 0. F., 1863. -C. A. S 173 Lines Read at a Masonic Supper. — S. B. S 191 Lines Read at a Dinner of the Berkshire Medical Society. — S. B. S 196 WoBDS. — Lines Read before Sacramento Library Associa- tion.— C. A. S 202 Experiences Afloat.— S. B. S 217 Charge of the 49th.— S. B. S 220 Lines Written at Sea, July 4th, 1863.— S. B. S 224 To Julia in Heaven.— S. B. S 228 Musings in a Cemetery. — S. B. S 232 Poem, July 4th, 1865.— S. B. S 240 Lines Read at William D. Bishop's Crystal Wedding. — S. B. S 251 Poem Delivered at Re-union of 49th Massachusetts Regi- ment— S. B. S 257 CONTENTS. ix PAGE. Lines Eead at Great Barrington, July 4, 1867.— S. B. S , 287 Lines Eead at Zeta Psi Supper, 1867.— S. B. S 292 A Legend of Black Eock.— S. B. S 300 Eose Cottage Eeminiscences . — S . B. S 305 Lines Eead at a Clam Bake, 1873.— S. B. S 309 "Milk."— S. B. S 313 Gagrow.— C. A. S 318 Decoration Day Poem, 1869.— S. B. S 320 Hymn.— S. B. S 329 Decoration Day Poem, 1870.— S. B. S 331 Sunrise on the Sierras. — C. A. S 342 Farewell Hymn to Eev. J. B. F.— S. B. S 343 Hymn at Dedication of Julia Sumner Hall. — S. B. S 345 Prologue to Tableau, Cagliostro's Mirror.— S. B. S 347 Poem Eead at Opening Bridgeport Opera House.— S. B S. . . 349 In Memoriam.— S. B. S. (With Portrait.) 357 The Dial.— C. A. S 360 Lines Eead at Dinner of Fairfield County Bar to Judge Sey- mour.— S. B. S 361 Poem Eead at a Dinner to P. T. Bamum.— S. B. S 366 Martyrdom in the Temple.— C. A. S 373 My Brother's Eing.— S. B. S 380 Poem at St. George's Society Banquet, 1875.— S. B. S 384 Lines Eead at Ee-union of Connecticut Veterans. — S. B. S. . 392 Poem Eead at Wm. D. Bishop's Silver Wedding.- S. B. S. . . 397 Lines to a Lady, on being asked for an Old Time Valen- tine.— S. B. S 403 Love's Biography. - C. A. S 405 Poem Eead at Opening Town Hall, Great Barrington. — S. B. S 406 Lines Eead at Burns Festival, 1876.— S. B. S 416 Poem Eead at Williams' Alumni Dinner, 1876.— S. B. S. . . . - 422 X CONTENTS. PAGE. Poem delivered at Dedication of Soldiers' Monument, Bridgeport.— S. B. S , 429 Lines Read before I. O. O. F., Virginia City, Nev., 1865.— C. A. S 438 The Funeral.- S. B. S 446 A Sailor's Vision.— C. A. S 449 Poem Eead at Housatonic Agricultural Fair, 1876, — S. B. S.. 454 SHver Wedding Lines.— C. A. S 462 Lines Eead at Burns Festival, 1877 — "The Lassies." — S. B. S 464 Shakespeare— Lines Eead at St. George's Society, Annual Banquet, 1877.— S. B. S 468 The Father and Three Sons.— S. B. S ... 470 The Tramp's Soliloquy.— S. B. S 473 Lines Eead at F. W. Parrott's Golden Wedding— S. B. S. . . . 476 Mors.-S. B. S 483 Spring.— S. B. S 484 Albert.— C. A. S 485 The Prodigal Son.— S. B. S 487 Georgianna.— S. B. S 489 Our Father.— S. B. S 492 POEMS THE TKUE LIFE; A EHYMED SEKMON, DELIVEKED ON SEVEEAL OCCASIONS. In earlier clajs, before life's troubled sea Had oped the vortex of its cares for me ; Wlien, to my youthful and enraptured glance, Stretched out afar its beautiful expanse, Luring the voyager, by the charming scene. To launch forth, hopeful, on its breast serene ; When youth was fresh, and boyhood could descry No cloud of threat'ning in the distant sky ; When, unencumbered with the toils of life, Its whirl of business, and incessant strife. The hours sped on, with grateful leisure fraught, With scope for fancy and untrammeled thought ; Freedom to stroll through Academus' shades, To con the classics, and to woo the maids ; Each winged pleasure in its flight to seize, And idly wanton in the lap of ease ; Ah, then, my muse ! in many a rhythmic line. Gave I my offerings at thy sacred shrine ! (11) 12 POEMS. In many a sonnet, fasliioned by tliine aid, Some new Dulcinea saw her charms portrayed ; O'er many a pun, in sportive numbers drest. My list'ning chum applauded with a zest ; To many a crade conception of the brain, Provoking mirthful, or satiric strain, Reserved from Fancy's evanescent throng — Thou gav'st a being, and a garb, in song. Remorseless years ! amid whose length'ning train, O'er the broad waste of time's extended plain, Close on your footsteps, in a concourse vast, Stalk the weird spectres of the fading Past ; Mark ye, how yonder, in despairing gloom, "What splendid hopes have found their early tomb ! See in those forms, with cypress wi-eaths entwined, What tearful mem'ries ye have left behind ! See, fallen prostrate with insensate clods. The crumbled relics of those household gods ! See brave resolves, begot in pomp and state, Consigned in silence to an early fate ; See grand beginnings vanish into air, — The things that were, and not the things that wear — See even Genius veil its sacred fire. Its flame, Toncherished, suffered to expire ; THE TRUE LIFE. 13 See many a wild, yet beautiful idea, — Too transcendental for our mundane sphere, — Nipped at its budding, in a soul intent On notions coupled with their — ten per cent. ! To deal with facts ; — to banish earlier dreams ; To clutch the baubles which the world esteems ; To grasp the work-day, " practical" ideas. We enslave the thought, and dedicate the years ! In sharp pursuit of worldly fame, or pelf, Our first is bartered for our second self. Unhke, dissentient, when we join the two. Our life entire is monstrous to the view. No graceful outHne, no symmetric whole Attests the healthful progress of the soul. No pleasing fitness of the parts combined. Shows the true culture of th' immortal mind. So oft we note, in our maturer years, How faint a semblance of our youth appears. We cheat oui- nature of its first estate; Some powers we fetter ; some we stimulate. Some tastes we stifle, which the soul prefers, To please our clients, or our customers. Some light, mayhap, which we were bom to shed, We cloak and smother, for the sake of bread ; 14 POEMS. "WTiile some lone talent, — singled out, perchance, The veriest creature of a circumstance, — "We task and torture to our being's end, Because, forsooth, it yields — a dividend ! Not so, the great, eternal Source of mind. Its education and its growth designed. To use not one, but all His gifts to man, Is to fulfill the wise creative plan. No vain appendage — no superfluous taste, No talent given for neglect or waste. Came from His hand, who graciously imbued Man with His essence, and pronounced him good. The dearest homage which the soul can show To its great Author, is, itself to know. Itself to cherish and develop here. As ripening only for a higher sphere. As but rehearsing on the stage of time, For that grand Drama — awful and subHme — When the vast Drop-scene shall be rolled away, The glorious Hereafter to display ! When Heaven's full orchestra their strain begin. And the Forever shall be ushered in ! The sure philosophy of life to leam. And then to practice, is our chief concern. TSE TRUE LIFE. 15 Tlie wisest, happiest method to pursue ; To shun the false — to cultivate the true. Not all alike, in power, and skill, and grace, Hath the great God endowed the human race ;— Some, hfe's abstruser mysteries may sound, And tread the caverns of the deep profound ; Others, on Fancy's airy wing may fly To scenes unwitnessed by the ^-ulgar eye. Some, 'neath the lordly portals of the brain, Their royal visitants may entertain ; Guests, that from far ideal realms have come, To find with mortals a congenial home. Not all, ahke, in goodly shape, and fair, The tabernacle of the Soul prepare, Profuse with decoration — fitly wrought To wait th' indwelling of the new-born thought ; Yet 'tis no partial Hand that first outpours Upon our race these intellectual stores ; Nor hath thy fellow reason to avow Himself more blest, more fortunate, than thou. Each, in his ovm unique, pecuhar plan. Hath the beginnings of a perfect man. Nay, e'en the basest brother of our kind. In the recesses of his dormant mind. Some germs — all undeveloped — may behold. Which might have reproduced an hundred fold. 16 POEMS. Blame tliou not Nature, but thy froward will, "Wlio fail'st a glorious mission to fulfill. To thine own self, and Nature's laws be true ; Keep life's great purpose in thy constant view ; Live less for Time, nor set such priceless store By paltry pebbles on the barren shore, But lift thy gaze, O mortal ! to descry The boundless ocean and the starry sky. Learn well the mysteries of thy first degree ; Conform what is, to that which is to be ; So, when thy brief apprenticeship shall end, Erom corner-stone and base thou may'st ascend ; In grand proportions may thy structure rise — Its lofty towers upreared against the skies — Till, master-builder, lastly thou shalt come To crown thy life-work with its lordly dome ! In the great reck'ning at the final day, When the recording angel shall display The grand sum-total ; and our life appears By thoughts computed — not by length of years — ■ That life the truest and the best may seem, "Which mortals scoffed at, as an idle dream. Perchance the dreamer, disenthralled, shall stand Preferred disciple, at his Lord's right hand ; While hover 'neath the empyrean skies, Souls of the thrifty, and the worldly-wise ! . THE TRUE LIFE. 17 Thrice blest the pilgrim on Life's tliomy road, Which leads him onward to his long abode, Who, while he fails not duly to bestow A just attention to affairs below. Regards these only at their real worth, Nor barters heaven for a patch of earth. Who ne'er forgets, amid his round of toil, How unsubstantial is this mortal coil. With ready will, to earn his bread attends, But ne'er confounds life's means with life's great ends. Who deems it not man's paramount pursuit To build a factory, or to make a boot ; Nor thinks his duty hath been wholly done, Who leaves a fortune to his darhng son. Who loves to search within his storied mind, Some sparkling jewel of a thought to find. Who keeps some inner chamber of the heart From life's concerns and cankering ills apart, Where, oft withdrawing, weary and depressed, His spirit finds a solace, and a rest. Who glads the ear with music, and the eye With forms of beauty loves to gratify. Who walks with sages that have gone before. And treads a measure with the bards of yore. Wlio loves at times in cheerful way to spend A social evening with a pleasant friend. 18 POEMS. Who prizes books, and sedulously heeds The word of truth he garners as he reads. Loves a bright hearth, with happy faces round ; A family board, with wholesome plenty crowned ; Loves to do alms ; promotes each noble cause ; Communes with nature, and reveres her laws ; Free from the touch of time's corroding tooth, Learns the choice secret of eternal youth ; Learns to subdue each rebel passion's rage. And glides from manhood to serene old age. In fine, who lives a life of generous aim ; Lives not alone for power, or wealth, or fame ; Lives to develop as a perfect whole The various traits that constitute the soul ; So, at the harvest-time, himself to yield A sheaf, well ripened, in the Master's field. I know, the world, time-servient, disagrees With vain ideas and heresies like these ; I know full well what sages will dissent From such a strain of idle sentiment ; I know the proverbs of the worldly-wise, What plans of thought and action they advise ; How small the orbit, how confined the groove. Within whose hmits they exhort to move ; But I believe, the two extremes between, Our better sense may find the golden mean. THE TRUE LIFE. 19 That while avoiding a contracted sphere, Which quite absorbs us in its one idea ; And while, with hke disfavor, we disown The jack-at-all-trades, or the lazy drone ; A liberal course our steps may still pursue. To human kind, and human nature, true. Poor slave of Mammon ! though thy sordid brain Be steeped with lust of pleasure or of gain ; Within thy bosom thou may'st yet behold A wealth more precious than thy heaps of gold. A gem so brilhant, it can far outshine The choicest product of Golconda's mine. A vital spark from the celestial flame, Which now and ever must exist the same. It is thy soul ; to slavish bondage doomed — Nay, 'tis thyseK, O man ! thou has entombed ! See with what layers of avarice and of guilt. Thine own dark sepulchre thyself hast built ! See how thy purer hopes and joys have fled To habitations of the early dead ! See life's sweet graces, its emotions kind, The holy ties that love and friendship bind ; Th' inspiring glories of creation, — all Shut out and banished from ihj prison wall ! 20 POEMS. See, one by one, tlie harsh obstructions roll Before the windows of thy buried soul ! One opening still admits its ghostly light, To show the ruin, to appal the sight ; — Ah ! 'tis thy faithful memory ! would' st thou gaze Out from thy dungeon at those earlier days ? One glance, remorseful, sorrowing, wouldst thou cast Along the mournful vista of the past? See then thy childhood, with its sports beguiled ; By selfish care and avarice undeiiled ; Its golden moments, pure and unalloyed, In guileless thoughts and gentle deeds employed. See thy bark launched on youth's enticing stream, "Whose ripples glisten 'neath the morning beam ; See the glad banks in vernal freshness bloom. And flowers that breathe a ravisliing perfume ; "While Hope — the siren — to the voyager sings. And beck'ning onward, waves her shining wings. Well might thy vision seek to linger there, Amid a scene so bright, so passing fair ! Fain wouldst thou deem the picture all complete, — No mortal life could hail a dawn more sweet, — But look ! how soon the swelling stream runs high, The storm-king threatens in the angry sky ; * THE TRUE LIFE. 21 The troubled waves their cheerless banks divide, Wliile the sad Hours stand up on either side, To tell the number of thy past misdeeds, Like hooded friars, counting o'er their beads ! Could we unlock their chambers, and disclose In human hearts, their multitude of woes ; Could we but half the agonies reveal. Which placid brows and studied smiles conceal ; Our souls would o^\ti the picture strangely true, The faithful Muse would offer to the view. Alas ! how many a wreck in human mould. Consumed with passion or the lust of gold. Lives only to pervert creative plan, And dies, the shameful counterfeit of man ! Our educations, and the vicious rules, Wliich so obtain in Fashion's latest schools ; The standards of our modern excellence. The praise accorded unto base pretence ; The sycophantic homage often shown Toward foppish idiots for the wealth they own ; The estimate of man by what is his ; By what he has, and not by what he is ; That " aristocracy," which seeks to find The wealth of purse, and not the wealth of mind ; 22 POEMS. - Which greets plain worth with superciHous laugh, But fawns obsequious round a golden calf ; That eager thirst for gold, which scruples not At means unworthy, so it may be got ; Which buries all else in a common gTave, And grudges time to grasp, and hoard, and save ; These, with their kindred causes, serve to bind And dwarf the nobler impulses of mind. These make our hfe a disproportioned whole, And thwart the expectations of the soul. Yet he who rashly yentui-es to assail The social wrongs and vices which prevail, Is deemed a mad fanatic, or a fool. Whose verdant notions should be sent to school. 'Tis little sympathy the world bestows On him who seeks its follies to expose ; And that enthusiast, who with ardor warm, Plants, in his dreams, the standard of reform ; Who fondly thinks to part the clouds away. And hail the dawn of the millennial day. May well take heed, lest he erelong shall be At Mammon's shrine, himself a votary. For so the world, with its mysterious charms, Our earlier impulse and intent disarms, That he who first with brave assurance vows Mankind's amelioration to espouse, THE TRUE LIFE, 23 Or, less combative, hopes to keej) aloof, And shun the rabble 'neath a quiet roof. Little by Httle, yields him to the tide. And downward floats, the motley crew beside. Thus, in his progress, proves the adage true, — " Dwellers at Eome must do as Romans do ! " So fares the world ; — so, none of Adam's seed ; — No rank, profession, school, position, creed. Escapes from Mammon's avaricious clutch. Or shuns his all-contaminating touch. Thus, in one scale, untrue, but still obeyed, Actions and motives everywhere are weighed. By one false test, incessantly applied, Man's daily conduct is discussed and tried. All-potent Mammon ! like a monarch throned. O'er the broad earth thy sovereign power is owned ! And — strange to tell — where freedom vaunteth most. And counts her empii-e a peculiar boast — There Mammon holds his most distinguished court, Wliere willing subjects faithfully resort. There, abject mortals, servient 'neath his nod, Acknowledge him their ruler and their god. There, too, he finds, to guard his regal state, On every hand a zealous advocate. 24 POEMS. I j As some ricli rogue, liis knaveries to liide, j Keeps able counsel ever at his side, ; Betained, their skill and eloquence to lend, I Theu' cHent's fame and fortune to defend ; To blink the point, and make " His Honor " see ; Vast odds 'twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee ; — So Mammon lacks not, in these latter days, | A host of minions who can chant his praise, I Extol his glories, magnify his fame, i And fling the cloak of custom o'er his shame. ^ And so the Press, whose once united tone j Might drive each despot from his lawless throne ; ; Whose voice, concordant for the truth and right, \ The world might rescue from its moral blight — Perv^erts its power ; and busily repeats i The idle talk and jabber of the streets. | Panders to passion, and to morbid taste ; I Observes the current, and with eager haste - Adopts the tenets of the winning side. And floats conspicuous with the rushing tide. Confined by ties of party, or of sect, The general weal it cares not to effect ; Of demagogues and knaves the pUant tool, And selfish interest its guiding rule, THE TRUE LIFE. 25 It aims the pubKc ear to tickle well, And make the paper, or the volume, sell. Nay, e'en the Pulpit — such is Mammon's power — Shapes oft its tenets to the passing hour ; Its doctrine moulds to suit the hearers' views, And, like a mirror, must reflect the pews. Here, where we look for Truth's peculiar source — Where thought from time should hold its brief di- vorce ; Whither approaching, with a reverent awe, To hear God's word, and learn his sacred law. The world's concerns and cares should ne'er intrude, But hearts should flow with love and gratitude ; Where all should meet — high, humble, rich and poor, And leave their false distinctions at the door ; — As worms, alike predestined, and for whom The same gi^eat Leveler opens wide the tomb ; — See, even here, with patronizing smile, How Mammon, proud and pompous, treads the aisle ! And sits quiescent, with a slumberous eye, While Reverend Cream Cheese hums a lullaby. Here Fashion's votaries, in a vast array. Convene to hold their weekly gala-day ; And while the sinners for forgiveness sue. Their hats and flounces pass in sharp review ! 26 POEMS. Go search through Christendom where'er we may, We witness Mammon's universal sway. In each department of our social state, He stamps his impress with a crushing weight ; And leads his subjects passively along, A blinded duped, infatuated throng ! All ! when will mortals from their folhes turn, The simple theory of life to learn ? "With faithful vision see and own a truth. Which nature shows us in our early youth ; Begard life only for its nobler ends. And live as brothers, and as generous friends ; As fellow-travelers toward that common bourne, From whose mysterious confines none return. My hope is slender — but I can conceive How man his social errors might retrieve ; Pursue a course by selfish care unvexed, And so spend this life as t' insure the next. I can conceive a social state, wherein The strifes, the bickerings, the discordant din, Insane excitements, mutual distrusts, Unholy passions and unbridled lusts, — Might all be banished from our midst away. And Beason hold her kind and gentle sway. " There is no joy but calm, the spirit sings. Why should we toil, the roof and crown of things ! " THE TRUE LIFE. 27 Could we our possibilities but see, How near a Heaven this earth of ours might be ! Behold its glories^ lavishly outspread Around us, and beneath, and overhead ! Mark how, as myriad eyes, whose glance is love. The stars smile down upon us from above ; And softly close their eyelids, one by one, As through the startled ether soars the sun ; His coursers guiding o'er the vast highway, That spans from East to West, the realms of Day ! See, o'er the face of this terrestrial ball, — In hill, and vale, and lake, and waterfall ; In fountain, river, rill and ocean wave ; In mountain-dome, and hoary chff and cave ; In tree and shrub,— in foliage and in flower ; In shady grove, and in sequestered bower ; In rolling prauies, and in grassy glades. What wondrous beauty everything pervades ! Then see, responsive to a moderate toil. How Plenty leaps out from the teeming soil ! How Earth from out her rich, exliaustless stores. Yields up her minerals and her shining ores ;— Her varied products, neither sparse nor few, Enough for comfort and for luxury too. Kind Nature meant not that a single one Of all her children, 'neath her generous sun, 28 POEMS. Should starve ; or suffer from the galling chain, Which Want imposes in its cruel reign ; While some proud neighbor, with a wealth untold, Should hoard his treasures of superfluous gold — The fruit of speculation, out of which He woke some morning to be labeled " rich " — 'Twas never meant that some should pampered be, While others feel the pinch of poverty ; That mother Earth, upon her fruitful breast, Should surfeit half her babes, and starve the rest ! Methinks some strange perversion hath been wrought From that original creative Thought, Which turned to shape in Earth, and gave control To Man, as lord and ruler of the whole. A strange perversion, which, increasing, through The lapse of ages since the world was new, Hath come to make of this om^ social Hfe, A scene of jealous and discordant strife ; To make our race to false restraints conform, And one worm lord it o'er his fellow- worm. This man, to-day, exults in pride and power, Pet child of fate, and hero of the hour. With cool disdain he treats the humble j)oor, Who turn, awe-stricken, from the rich man's door. THE TRUE LIFE. 29 j But mark how Fortune with its fickle glow, Loves to dispense alternate weal and woe. Another generation turns the scale ; ■ The poor grow rich ; the wealthy bankers fail ; j And they, whose fathers, only yesterday, ! With golden sceptre held a potent sway, \ Now in their turn pursue the walks of toil, "While beggars' offspring occupy the soil. \ Our life's a see-saw, marked with ups and downs ; i A curious mixture, both of smiles and frowns ; \ A treacherous sea, whose surface, calm to-day, | Yawns wide to-morrow to engulph its prey. ! And yet, strange man ! unschooled through all the i years, ] Along whose course life's vanity appears, \ The will-o'-wisp of fortune still pursues, 1 The self same chase persistently renews. j Lives, not to gather that substantial good, j Which shall go with him o'er the Stygian flood ; I Not those possessions, which shall last subHme, • Beyond the empire and the waste of time : j Not that ripe soul, which, rising o'er the sod, \ In full perfection shall ascend to God ; i But such mere baubles as the hour affords, '> With tkeless zeal and industry, he hoards ; 30 POEMS. Pursues each worthless phantom as it flies ; And so toils on, till that last enterprise Of getting buried, claims the shrinking thought, And one word tells his simple record — " Nought !" If half the hours we toil were set apart For generous culture of the mind and heart ; If, while sojourning on time's transient shore, "We trifled less, and thought and felt the more ; If all united with an equal zeal In temporal duties for the common weal ; And not as now, one labored to excess, While his rich brother lolled in idleness ; If all reserved, from daily cares aside, An ample leisure, wisely occupied ; The world, methinks, would still move on apace. And healthier progress would attend the race. Our art, and science, and inventive sldll ; The loom, the sledge, the plow-share and the mill. The calls of industry on land and main. Would still invoke their patrons not in vain. Then most, I ween, of progress we should find In the rich growth and onward march of mind ; In the rare studies which so well impart The choicest graces to the human heart \ THE TRUE LIFK 31 In the sweet social pleasures, kindly giyen As earthly foretastes of the joys of Heaven. A life more real, earnest, manly, free, This life ideal we should find to be. Peace, Uke a river, through our midst would flow, And earth become a paradise below. The same great Power that overruleth aU ; Fashions the orbs, and notes the sparrow's fall ; That bids us for the morrow take no thought. But seize the boon the present hour hath brought ; For man's necessities would still dispense The boundless favors of Omnipotence. And if, perchance, each temporal estate Should yield its increase at a slower rate ;- If unto each, with competence content. His capital should yield a less per cent ; If sea and continent should greet our eyes With fewer fruits of worldly enterprise : Yet if, instead, to bless the human race. More thought, more love, and charity had place ; If all within this mighty brotherhood Preferred the lasting to the transient good ; Such would be wisdom's part ; and we might then Have poorer fabrics, but have better men. 32 POEMS. There is wlio liatli not, yet hatli wealth untold — Better than rubies, or than shining gold. There is who hath, and yet so poor is he. No words can show his depth of poverty. There is a solid wealth, which hath no end, "Which pays its dividends though banks sus- pend ; And whose possessor, though a peasant's son, Consorts with nobles, and himself is one. Give mo this wealth, and though in humble sphere I keep my calling while I sojourn here ; Yet not the gold of Ophir, nor the gems From India's cave, nor royal diadems Can buy the passport I shall bear with mo, To earth's and heaven's " best society." There is a sweet refreshment in the thought Of dignity too j^recious to be bought. There is a badge of manhood, whoso owns. May scorn distinctions, and look down on thrones ; Despise conventional decrees and rules. And bear complacently the sneers of fools. The man who entertains within his breast A ducal Soul, as an abiding guest. Accounts no honor paramount to that : He is your only true aristocrat. THE TRUE LIFE. 33 All tilings are his ; liis park is tlie whole land ; ^^ His bath the sea, his walk the ocean strand ; The forests and the rivers he shall o^ti ; The mountain summit is his loft}^ throne ; He shall possess, where, in their little day, Others as tenants, and as boarders, stay. He shall be lord of land, and sea, and air ; Where e'er snow falls, or water flows, or where The birds take joyous wing the dawn to greet ; Where day and night in sombre twilight meet ; Where e'er the heaven is hung with cloudy forms, Or sown with stars, or terrible with storms ; Where e'er are outlets into space above ; Where e'er is clanger, wonder, awe, or love ; There sheddeth beauty, plenteous as the rain. For him, proud monarch of the vast domain. Each voice, for him, shall have a meaning sound ; And though he walk the sj)acious earth around ; He shall discover in each proffered boon, Nothing ignoble, or inopportune. Cease now, my muse, thy unaccustomed strain. And seek thine old retirement once again. * This, and the following nineteen lines, are a paraphrase of an extract from R. W. Emerson's Essay, '' The Poet- 34 POEMS. If thou lias uttered but one earnest word, These list'nmg friends have treasured as they heard ; If one true senthnent thou hast expressed, Which finds an answering echo in each breast ; Then well hast thou performed the pleasing task. And vouchsafed all thy humble bard could ask. S. B. S. MUSIC. 35 MUSIC. There's music in the ^^dnds : Whetlier they whisper gently thro' the trees, Or sweep tempestuous across the seas, Or waft sweet perfumes in the evening breeze ; There's music in the winds. There's music in the streams : That break their waters down the craggy steep, Or o'er the shining pebbles gaily leap, Or seaward roll, in channels broad and deep ; — There's music in the streams. There's music in the fields : The verdant meads that stretch across the plain. The sloping hill-side, orchard, pasture, lane. The crops of yellow corn and waving grain ; There's music in the fields. There's music in the woods : The wildernesses where the fleet hind roves. The sighing pine-cliffs and the vocal groves. Where bird-choirs hymn their praises, plaints, and loves ; — There's music in the woods. 36 POEMS. There's music in the sea : ■ The diapason of old Ocean's roar, j -I "Whose wild waves in perpetual encore j Eehearse their glad Te Deum evermore ; — j There's music in the sea. < There's music in the storms : j That run their courses over heaven's highway, I And turn the day to night — the night to day ; Wliose thunders rattle, and whose lightnings play ; — - There's music in the storms. \ There's music in the stars : { That fair Astarte's queenly robes adorn ; ; That sang together at creation's morn, \ When, at Jehovah's mandate. Earth was born ; — | There's music in the stars. There's music through the whole Of Nature's realm ; aroimd, beneath, above ; "Where e'er our eyes we turn — where e'er we rove ; — But sweetest of all music far, is Love : j The music of the soul ! j S. B. S. i THE IBBETEIEVABLE. 37 THE lERETEIEYABLE. The sun is falling in the west ; His last beams cut the billow's crest, Snow-white with the glistening foam ; For the choicest waters are filtered up To the rolling brim of old Neptune's cup, As the sea-bh'd's welcome home ; And the Fleet- Wing's sails are gaily drest With the rainbow tints, so fondly prest On the gracefully swelling dome. The grand old clouds drawn closely round, Present the Day-king, enthroned and crowned. In his fullest glory dying ; And to travel that beautiful silver road To the golden gate of my Lord's abode, The spirit is sorrowfully sighing ! 4f * -K- ^ The sun is set ; his work is done ; And the timid moon has just begun To cast her shadows, thin and pale. As I take my watch on the gallant deck, To descry the distant loom or speck. That betokens land or sail. 38 POEMS. \ Now the sea nms high, and the sweeping blast ! "With its angry stroke sways the mizzen-mast ; ; Every timber crackles sharp ; ^ And hark ! on the quiyering shroud and stay, Old Boreas' icy fingers play In mournful numbers, and numbers gay ; I list to the sailor's harp ! \ i 1 welcome the hour, so fit for thought I On what the past with its woes has wrought ; * I mark — with what grief ! — how awfully fraught ; Was the simplest word and deed ; ; Ay, the crisis acts of my life are known i From the lowHest impulse and hope to have grown — In a heedless hour was widely strown , \ The poisonous, blasting seed. « "i But no ! this night I will banish care,— ' The heavens above are transcendently fair, — My soul, like the orbs that are ghttering there Above the troublous waves, \ That once and now against me beat, , Shall rise, and gaze, but only greet j The pleasant sea, the temperate sheet ; Alone the forms and faces meet Which in old times did seem so sweet, That now I scarcely dare repeat, — ] THE IBRETBIEVABLK 39 " Some sleep ! I know the vacant seat ! I've seen the grass-grown graves ! " From earhest hours my life I trace ; And halting memory's rapid pace, — I linger round each cherished place ; I kiss each bending, tearful face ; — Low, soothing, deep-breathed peace. I mind me of the gladsome child On whom a tender mother smiled ; A boy by purest sports beguiled ; Whose heart, uncankered, undenled, From Faith knew no release. I wake. " O Heaven ! " I almost scream — " Prolong this soul-enrapturing dream ! What I have been, but let me seem! At the first fountains of Time's stream, To catch a single passing beam Of Innocency, let me he ! " Like a haK-drowned wretch I rise, And far beyond the gathering skies, A cruel fiend returns my cries ; My God the craved boon denies ; I gasp with downcast, tearful eyes, " Would God that I could die !" \ 40 POEMS. I never more shall dare contrast The present woe with the lovely past, Mj doom is sealed ; the die is cast ; I cannot differ from the last. For hark ! Hear the heavy death-bells toll ! And look ! How the dead possibilities roll In a long dark line to the Judgment goal ! This day, this hour with judgments is foal ; But the joys of my youth shed the gloom of my soul ! C. A. S. FiiEETwiNG, at Sea, off Cape \ Horn, September 6, 1856. S A VALENTINK ^\ A VALENTINE. Lady, 'twas on this day, As old traditions say, That Love was born. It was a gladsome birth, Fit cause for joy and mirth Among the sons of Earth — A race forlorn. On this, his natal day, Young Cupid — bhthe and gay — His pastime takes. The cause of Love he fights ; Fond hearts in bliss unites ; The torch of Hymen Kghts ; Its flame awakes. His well-directed dart Has pierced me ; and my heart Beats tremulous. O, Lady, may thine own Beat in sweet unison, And Love's pure flame alone Be born in us ! S. B. S. 42 POEMS. VALENTINE— TO L I WISH that I could say to you The words that would convey to you The measure of my love ; But language isn't strong enough, Nor are our meetings long enough, Nor are there strains of song enough Its height and depth to prove. 'Tis that which causeth pain for me ; 'Tis so entirely vain for me To utter all I feel ; And I am conscious all the while, As we the charming hours beguile, How somewhat doubtingly you smile At what I can't reveal. O, I am sure, that if you knew, And read my inmost feehngs through. You could but yield return Of love for love ; which, come what will. Through all the future can but thrill This heart ; and on its altars still, Forevermore shall bum I S. B. S. OyE VALENTINE'S NIGHT. 43 ONE VALENTINE'S NIGHT. What long ago I might have read — Had fortified myself to know — So long the waiting deadened dread, And friendship's hopes began to grow — But yesternight, while conning o'er A journal from the dear old place, I saw — what I had skipped before — The grieving tidings, face to face ! I'd held the paper as a screen Against the blazing on the hearth ; But when I saw what was between — - Two aged deaths and one small birth — My hands dropped with a nerveless grasp ; I stared into the very flame ; Then wonder if my crimson cheeks "Were scorched with fire or flushed with shame. The desert winds blow in a moan ! The good flag's halliards whip the staff ;— The one — the music of a groan,— And one, the mocking of a laugh. 44 POEMS. Let the derisive sounds concert Suggestive, tantalizing chants ; In pauses we may introvert, And spring a strength from Nature's taunts. Out of a sadness may we bring A nameless sweetness, which belongs To olden times, and takes the sting From sighs and semblances of wrongs. Though much has passed to leave regret, Some cherished memories remain ; The woe I brave or can forget : Blow, dreary winds, across the plain ! C. A. S. Fort Chuechill, Nev. Tee., J February 14, 1864. f AFTER A LOVER'S QUARREL. 45 AFTER A LOVER'S QUARREL. On her brow, clouds of anger were blended, While sorrow sat heavy on mine ; In a mad moment I had offended, And she bade me depart from her shrine ; — A shrine I so fondly had knelt at, And decked ^\dth my darlingest flowers ; A shrine I in rapture had dwelt at, Li my life's most enrapturing hours. And so I go forth, sad and lonely,— Tormenting regret in my soul ; — Sweet fruit turned to ashes ; and only A wretchedness passing control. And so all my path seems o'ershaded. And the saddest of lessons I learn ; And I mourn with a conscience upbraided, Lost joys that may never retuin. One hope I shall timidly cherish ; — It is in her bosom to find A heart, which, though love itself perish, Can never be other than kind : A heart so forgiving and tender, No hate can endure there long while. O, Heaven, from all ill defend her ! O God ! change her frown to a smile ! — S. B. S. 46 POEMS. ODE; SUNG AT roUBTH OF JULY CELEBRATION, GREAT BAE- EINGTON, MASS., JULY 4:TH, 1850. (AiK : — "America.") With joy we celebrate This day, from which we date Our Nation's birth ; Day when that patriot band For freedom took their stand, And made Columbia's land The pride of earth. This day, let East and West, With equal favors blest, Sing freedom's song ; Let North and South, to-day. Cast all their strife away. And, joined in glad array. The strain prolong. Stayed be the impious hands That seek to hurl the brands Of discord round ; Still let our rallying cry Of " Union " rise on high^- ODE, - 47 Till regions far and nigh Shall catch the sound. God ! 'neath whose watchful eye, All things in earth and sky Fulfill their end ; Guide Thou our Ship of State Secure through Peril's strait ; Still grant propitious fate, And still defend ! So shall its towering form, Unscathed through wind and storm Ride on its way ; Our favored land shall be The home of liberty ; Her sons shall worsliij) Thee^ And Thee obey. S. B. S. 4:8 POEMS. WHY I WEEP. I WEEP as I look on thee, obdurate fair one, So lavisli of smiles, and so charming to view ; So ready in meshes of love to ensnare one, And leave him heart-broken, to find thee untrue. I weep as I think the bright dreams of to-day Must give place to regretful awak'ning to-morrow ; That these pleasure-wing'd moments so soon must away, And the simshine of love be o'erclouded with sorrow. I weep as I think that the heart I so prize Is reserved for some other, more favored, more blest ; That some other shall bask in the light of those eyes. Of those heavenly smiles for a lifetime possessed. So, whenever henceforth thou beholdest me weeping, O think of the heart that implores to be thine ; Of the tender a£fections consigned to thy keeping, And the pure vows I fain would present at thy shrine. WHY I WEEP. 4.9 And, whenever thy 'kerchief to mine waves reply, And thine eyes beam upon me Hke beams of the sun, I will shed one more tear, I will heave one more sigh. For I feel thou art jesting, and only in fun. S. B. S. 50 POEMS. \ VALENTINE. i Cruel one ! it's hardly fair \ Thus to steal one's heart, I say I j 'Tis a treasure quite too rare j To be wrested thus away. ', Have some mercy, pr'ythee, do I '\ And the stolen heart restore. ; Henceforth, then, I promise you, I'll expose myself no more. Or, if you should think it best, In return to give me thine ; ; So we'll let the matter rest, I'll take yours, and you keep mine. • Or, (I'm not disposed to falter, Since this mischief is begun.) ] Drawing near to Hymen's altar, Let us join them both in one ! S. B. S. I A SONG FOB TEE BOTR 51 A SONG FOE THE BOYS. HuERA boys ! Life's conflict is opening before us ; With many a foe to be valiantly met ; Let our banner be raised, let it proudly wave o'er us; With firm hearts and true, we'll be conquerors yet! Press on without fear,— all forebodings dispelled, By doubts undismayed, nor by menaces awed ; — Press on, nor let action, nor struggle be quelled, While Error and Vice are seen stalking abroad. High stations of honor are waiting us now ; Proud triumphs, and lasting rewards may be ours; And anon, shall adorn each victorious brow The evergreen wreath, decked with Fame's fairest flowers. Our fathers before us fought nobly and well ; Be it ours to continue what they have begun ; So that history's page alike proudly may tell Of the patriot sire, and the patriot son. 52 POEMS. Then let's on to the strife, boys ! our banners un- furled,— Our weapons unsheathed, and our bright armor on ; Let our watch- word be truth ; let our field be the world, In the triumph of right be the victory won ! S. B. S. IRELAND'S OPPORTUNITY, 53 IRELAND'S OPPORTUNITY. A Yankee's addkess to the fenians. How LONG have ye cherished for Erin, in vain. The hope to behold her a nation again ? How long on her neck is the Britisher's heel ? How long has his mocking returned her appeal ? Lo ! now is the day-spring, ye pris'ners of Hope ! The strength of your arms with the tyrants may cope; For the vows of our land with this promise are thrHled : The woe-time of Erin is nearly fulfilled. When the tocsin of war from our brothers went forth, And the patriots poured from their homes in the North ; 'Mong the first in the line, with their Banner of Green, Were the boys who court-martialed the son of a Queen. And on the first field that our soldiers contest — Undisciplined, though of the bravest and best — 54 POEMS. Waving far in the van, lone in triumph was seen, By the Flag of our Country, that banner of Green ! From Hatteras Inlet to Lexington's streams, The Ensign of Erin exultingly gleams ; At Yicksburg and Hudson 'tis dauntless unfurled, Up the cloud-circled mountain resistlessly hurled I In Sherman's grand marching it heads a brigade ; In skirmish or battle, manoeuvre or raid ; From Generals commanding, to privates in file, You may number the sons of the Emerald Isle ! Shall we fail to remember, now Peace has re- turned. Their fame in our vict'ries so vaHantly earned ? Shall we fail to remember ''Neutrality's Queen," By supporting the yeomen now "wearing the green ?" Oh, no! Speed the time when the Briton must yield To Fenian and Yankee the freedom-lit field ! When his plunder our Nation will make him dis- gorge. Or tear from his bunting the cross of St. George ! IBELAmyS OPPORTUNJTT. 55 And when from our Navy each ocean shall be To the commerce of England a bottomless sea : As our Flag from the spankers of frigates are seen, While the mast flies the Harp-blazoned Banner of Green ! C.A.S. Virginia Ciry. Nov. 23. 1865. 56 POEMS. TO HELEN. Now pr'ythee, dear Nell, Don't affect sucli a swell, Nor take on in such terrible fashion : I've told you before, That it vexes me sore. When I see a sweet face in a passion. I think it's too bad, You should go and get mad. And that, too, in despite of my coaxing — I really supposed, When at first you disclosed So much anger, you only were hoaxing. But be this as it may : If it be as you say — And I certainly hav'n't a doubt of it — I mean to hold fast To the fun that is past, And I know that you can't cheat me out of it. Until life's sun is set, I shall never forget How with love we were, both of us, dying : TO HELEN. 57 How I vowed to be true, And, sweet rogue, so did you. And we knew all the time each was ! ! ! So, Nelly, good-bye ! Do not squander a sigh. Nor in sad melancholy grow thinner : For how shameful 'twould be, If you did so for me, Such a vile, irreclaimable sinner ! Now, don't fling away A poor " minstrel's last lay," But remember to what cause you owe it ; But for this fuss alone. You might never have known That your " dearest of friends " was a poet. S. B. S. 68 POEMS. THE FALL OF THE TEAE. The blighted flower, the rustling leaf, The mournful winds that round us sigh, Are tokens all of Nature's grief, That summer's past, and winter nigh. The King of Day, so bright erewhile, From his high station looking down, Seems hardly to vouchsafe a smile. But sends aslant a sullen frown. To kindlier cHmes the timid bird Hies with his fond and gentle mate ; No longer is their warbling heard. But all is drear and desolate ! So dies the year ! its death how sad ! But 'tis not sadness of despair ; For spring again the earth shall glad, Nature her robes of green shall wear. So, though our Hfe must pass away. While time speeds on with restless wing ; Our souls shall hail a brighter day, And flourish in eternal spring. S. B. S. HOPE. 59 HOPE. Wheke does lie live who cries " No lack ; " Who lives not lacking all ? Who sends his faithful memory searching back, And ferrets out a hope that he may call In very truth, one fully met ? A yearning with a trust, Chaste, dignified, high set, — Else 'twere no hope, but lust. We never have our true desu-es ; We hardly search aright ; Too soon appreciative sense expires ; The circumstance is tardier than the right. We have no answers, but in darkness grope. Life may be, should be, but a single hope ; For who but God of Heaven can furnish scope ? C. A. S. 60 POEMS. LINES WKITTEN IN AN ALBUM. Theke's a strange, unwonted feeling; thoughts of olden time revealing, O'er my spirit softly stealing, hke a magic-woven spell ; 'Tis a feeling half of gladness, tho' 'tis deeply tinged with sadness, — With a melancholy sadness, as I speak the word " farewell," And thy voice is heard to echo back the thrilling word " farewell ! " Thy remembrance I shall treasure with a sentiment of pleasure. With an unbeclouded pleasure, until time with me shall end ; For, embalmed in recollection, there will be the sweet reflection. That in undisguised affection, thou hast ever been a friend ; In my joy and in my sorrow, thou hast ever been a friend. Fare thee well ! tho' fate may sever, friendship's flame shall last forever, LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALB UM. 61 Burning on and burning ever, while its incense rises high ; Till at last, when life is ending, angel voices sweetly blending, — All harmoniously blending, — thou art welcomed to the sky. And thou hast thy home forever — aye, forever — in the sky ! S. B. S. 62 POEMS. TO A LADY ON RECEIVING A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS. Last eve, as I strayed, to my wondering view A fairy appeared, as at times fairies do : From some bright world afar, to this dark one of ours, She had trippingly come, with a handful of flowers, As fair as could blossom in valley or grove, All speaking one language — the language of love; And while I stood rapt, such a vision to see. She blushingly smiled, and she gave them to me. There were red and white roses, in bud and in bloom. Which vied in exhaling their choicest perfume ; And a sweet little pink showed its face here and there. As it breathed out its life on the soft evening air. AU these lent their fragrance, and others beside. And the whole in a bunch with blue ribbon were tied, And I thought, as I gazed on their beauties com- bined, Such beauty, world over, I hardly could find. TO A LADY. 63 All this of the flowers ; but how shall I portray The bright looks of her, so much fairer than they — The beautiful giver ; beneath whose sweet smile, No wonder the flowers bloomed so richly the while. Ah ! well may my sullen, but sensible muse, To attempt such a task of description refuse ; For grace so transcendent, the muse must confess. No tongue can portray, and no language express. But while memory lasts, and I ponder them o'er. The bygones of youth and the blest days of yore. Thine image, fair maiden, where'er thou shalt be. Oft-times in sweet visions will come back to me. These flowers I would cherish, must droop and de- cay— Their ephemeral beauty must soon pass away ; But the maid who bestowed them — her radiant face — In my happy remembrance shall still have a place. S. B. S. 64 P0EM8. A COMBAT. ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE SAN FRANCISCO HERALD. One of the most determined and sanguinary ca- nine conflicts anywhere recorded in history occurred in front of our sanctum, yesterday, between a couple of ordinary looking curs, with some interesting skir- mishing by a gang of infuriated phists — (wonder if that is the correct orthography ?)— and a general movement in the direction of the stampede by the animals of a half dozen butcher carts. For fifteen minutes the street was in an agonizing uproar, and excited men deliberately walked over each other in attempting to catch glimpses of the belhgerent brutes, as the tide of battle carried them from one side of the thoroughfare to the other, against the heels of kicking horses and under the wheels of moving vehicles. They we can't begin to por- tray the scene in prose. Let us invoke the Muses, and measure off the picture in pentameter : One was a cur of famed combative strain — The English bull, with terrier intermixed — Skin smooth and white, broad-breasted, ears erect, Tail brief, eyes red, protruding under-jaw, A COMBAT. 65 And all those points which men, versed in the art Of canine conflict, view with favoring eyes. A butcher owned him, and he strode the earth Like one that deemed the better part his own. The other was a shaggy, homely brute, With coat unkemped, and drooping tail and ears, And aspect mild, and deprecating mien. His restless eye, and gaunt, ungainly shape, Told that he lived neglected, and had earned, By toilsome march for many a month gone by, A bare subsistence of unwholesome food Through desperate forays into kitchen yards, And feats of reckless plunder everywhere. He chanced, in passing by the butcher's stall, To cast upon the fat and savory joints A look of longing, yet with no intent Of open seizure or of felony. 'Tis true, his hollow stomach tempted sore The little virtue left by pinching want ; Still he resisted, and with measured trot Was joui'neying onward, when the butcher's cur Insolent with plenty, and with angry jaws Still red with recent revels, upward sprang, And after the retreating stranger sent A growl of scorn. The latter stopped and turned — The jeer and insult grated to the quick ; QQ POEMS. And with the fire of noble fathers dead And turned to sausage, and with bristhng back, He boldly faced the scorner of the poor. No word was uttered ; each the other eyed, And showed his teeth with sanguinary growl, Hurling defiance and undying hate, And courting combat in its direst form. Around they walked, stiff-legged and menacing, In circle, to survey the 'vantage ground ; Then with a howl of pent-up, smothered rage, They sprang together, and the silent street Koared with the tumult of the struggling dogs. The fur flew. Then a score or less of curs Mingled their voices with the general din. Upreared they fought, and lying down they/^, And through the street they rolled in noisy strife, While plunging horses and excited men Gave zest and glory to the combatants. Approached the dogs unto the northern curb. When But the character of an epic poem — in which cate- gory of Hterature we humbly class the above — will not permit us to give the result of the encounter in verse. It would render the production entirely too didactic. The Iliad leaves the fall of Troy to the historian, after burying its defender ; we will, there- A COMBAT. 67 fore, mention here that, after a prolonged struggle against the ' northern curb ' alluded to in the poem, the dog of the butcher beat a yelping and cowardly retreat, leaving his plebeian foe master of the field. The return of the victor to the southern portion of the city will probably be made the basis of an * Odyssey.' " C. A. S. ^8 POEMS. BAENUM'S BABY SHOW.— 1855. Who says the world moves not apace, in tliis our happy age, When " Young America " so soon comes bouncing on the stage ; When e'en the babies, yet untaught to lisp a mother's name, Forsake their cradles to compete for favor and for fame. When Gotham holds her lofty seat, queen city of the nation, Proud patroness of enterprise throughout the whole creation ; Whose voice from press and business mart, rolls out its potent thunders. And last, not least, whose Bamum keeps the world agape with wonders ! Come one, come all, both old and young, and mingle in these scenes. Come spinsters of uncertain age, and misses in your teens. BABNUMS BABY SHOW. 69 Ye rusty, crusty bachelors ! shake off your false alarms, And boldly face our new recruits— our infantry in arms ! Lo ! from the four extremities of famous Yankee land, Come juvenile competitors — a happy, hopeful band ; Babes fat and fair ; triplets ; ah me ! a dozen pairs of twins ! Thus some poor mortals suffer two-fold penance for their sins ! Alas, that in this novel strife its prizes should be won, At sacrifice of here and there some mother's darling son ; Some bright one midst the family group, who reigns without a peer. Lured from his Httle realm to find a hundred rivals here ! But surely, each maternal hp in triumph will declare Her's was the loveHest offering ; the fairest of the fair ; The sweet delusion nature gave, still reigns withiu her breast. Each partial eye its jewel sees, the brightest and the best I 70 POEMS. Kind matrons ! * on whose nod depend the fortunes of the hour, Whose taste shall choose from out the wreath, the rarest, sweetest flower ; Forget not, how in olden time that naughty apple came Among those rival goddesses, to wake the envious flame. When Paris—inconsiderate youth, Hecuba's ill- starred son, — Presumed amoi^g the matchless three, to name the peerless one ; And so, upon his foolish head, Minerva's hate came down. While Juno lowered upon his race with her revenge- ful frown. My song should cease j but still the muse would linger to propose A health to Bamum— wondrous man ! the friend of baby-shows ; In all the fields of enterprise a champion shrewd and bold, Beneath whose magic hand, whate'er it touches turns to gold ! * The lady judges. BARNUM'S BABY SHOW. 71 Years hence, perchance, some hale old man — his grandchild on his knee — Will oft recount the bygone times, when young and blithe was he ; When bright and lustrous was the eye, now weak with age, and dim, And boast about that early prize that Bamum gave to him! Now to each little cherub face a double health is here — May time add yet another charm with each succeed- ing year ; TlQ hfe's meridian sun, in all its richness shall un- fold The blossom, fair and beauteous, as the infant bud foretold. S. B, S. 72 POEMS. MEMOET AND HOPE. j The niglit was clear, the air was keen, j The ground was covered thick with snow, And far above, the glittering sheen Of Heaven's bright orbs would come and go. i I felt old Boreas' stinging bite, : As shrieking through the sash he came. And saucily addressed my Hght, i As if she were an olden flame. j Half drunk with fun, the jolly god ; Bore the hght snow-flakes from their bed, j And rushing up the narrow road, ; "Whirled fiercely round the traveler's head. Who, just returned from Congress Hall, i "Was quite unable well to shift, — * While striving Buncombe's speech to call, ^ He could not, somehow, see the drift. Ha ! how the laughing stars, so mild, 1 Watch the mad frolic from on high ; [ They seem to say : A favorite child ■ Is privileged to tease and cry. j MEMOR Y AND HOPE, 73 I dropt the curtain on the scene, And back within my chamber turned ; "When burst the doors that stood between My callous heart and brain that burned With recollections of the past — Aroused, enldndled from their sleep ; The sweetest breeze, the harshest blast, The day to sing, the night to weep. Allotted by the mighty King — All pass before my shrinking eye ; Nor first the sorrows bear a sting, While every joy upheaves a sigh. As hooded monk and mail-clad knight, Upon their patron's natal eve, With gorgeous pomp and solemn rite Th' illuminated castle leave ; Commanding all the numerous train That forms the lordly retinue. They file upon the darkened plain, From whence in silence they may view The vestal, silver lamps that shine Depended from the casements high ; 74 POEMS. Nor is there movement in the line, Until they flicker, leap and die ; So, from the portal of my mind Leads covered hope and steeled despair. Innumerable host, that wind Beneath the gateway-torches' glare. The arsenal of thoughts and deeds At last forsaken— all apart, Each nature on the other feeds — Heart looks on mind, mind searches heart. " Ha ! good Kodolpho, didst thou mark ? Some cursed menial yet remains ; I see her 'mid the light— nay hark ! Hear'st thou her desecrating strains ? " Haste ! good Eodolpho ; give thy steed The freest rein, and to me bring The audacious wretch ; with greatest speed Her carcase to the dogs we'll fling." " Stay, my good knight," old Lubin cries, " I'm sure my lord his word withdraws ; Ton form and voice is from the skies, Our Lady smiles upon the cause." MEMORY AND HOP K 75 Wty did I fail the form and voice Of childliood's innocence and peace To recognize ? But now rejoice 1 Hope argues from them, doubtings cease. Blest Heaven, we see, that ere the soul Is quite divorced from Faith and Truth, Before remembrances are whole, An angel trims the lamp of youth. With cruel throbbing pulsed my head, My brain with thousand vagaries teemed, As, worn and weary, on my bed, I threw my panting self and dreamed. Amid my native hills I roam, I hear the brooks, I taste the breeze ; Disposed at once to joy and gloom, I mark each scene of childliood's glees. Mysterious presence by my side ! And stranger still in that I know It is my love, and joy, and pride, That close attends where'er I go. Full recognition with the morn, My longing, anxious spirit had ; *Twas then I knew that face and form — I know it now, and I am sad ! — C. A. S. 76 POEMS. LINES EEAD AT A SUPPER OF COMPANY C, FIRST BATTALION INFANTRY, MASS. VOL. MILITIA, GREAT BARRINGTON, 1855. Once on a time Lieutenant C, upon my reveries stole, His right hand held his last cigar ; his left, my button-hole ; " We're going to have a supper, Sam, next Satur- day," said he, " Here goes your name ; don't say me * nay ' — ^you must be there to tea ! "The clergy are invited guests; the yeomen near and far. The lawyers, and a host beside who practice at the bar ; The Captain, and his soldiers all, with tinsel, fife and drum ; I tell you," said Lieutenant C, " this military's some ! And furthermore, this brief advice you'll find is haply timed ; Come not, equipped and armed alone, but duly cocked and primed ; LINES BEAD AT A SUPPER. 77 For when the cloth is cleared, we trust you fellows of the law "Will undertake to satisfy our intellectual maw. Give us a speech, or sentiment, or both, if you prefer ; Or, should your Muse prove tractable, just coax a smile from her ; Come on at least with ready will, and only do your best, And I — your most admiring friend — will answer for the rest." Thus spake the First Lieutenant, and in quest of other prey. Left me, his latest victim, to ponder on my way ; To cogitate some shirking scheme, or supplicate the muse. Who rarely suffers a default when an attorney sues. *Tis hard, methought ; 'tis passing hard, such pres- sing friends to meet. While walking very quietly along the village street ; To have them chalk you for a speech, and pledge you to fulfill ; But harder yet to shake them off, unless you say you will. 78 P0EM8. So hither to our feast I bring, for better or for worse, An honest toast, though plainly clad in unambitious verse ; Forget the garb that clothes the thought, uncomely though it be. But to the naked sentiment, driuk heartily with me! The Boys of Berkshire ! skilled alike in arts of peace and war ; Proud owners of this fair estate their fathers battled for; With hands to do, and nerve to dare, in Freedom's sacred cause, — Defenders of theu' country's rights ; upholders of her laws ; A health to these, the worthy sons of brave, immor- tal sires ! Forever may their bosoms glow with patriotic fires ! No hirehng troops are our defence ; but Freedom proudly rears Her flag, and hopefully regards our Berkshire Volun- teers I LINES READ AT A SUPPER. 79 A health, a double health to these ; should Freedom e'er invoke Her sons to rally and resist the rash invaders' stroke ; Not last, not least ; but first and best, where thickest fight appears, Look ye to find our noble boys ; our Berkshire Volunteers ! S. B. S. 80 FOEMS. FEMALE EQUESTKIANSHIP. PBEFACE TO REPORT OF COMMITTEE AT EXHIBITION OF HOUSATONIC AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY, 1855. In this our age so fraught wioh starthng thmgs, "When each nine days some new-fledged wonder brings ; "When good old grand-dames rub their pious eyes, And heave by turns their Partingtonian sighs ; "When each young stripling, ere he learns to read, Aspires to manage his two-forty steed ; Forsakes his primer, and, as best he can. Displays the pony and the fast young man ; When beardless boys with martial headgear crowned, Scare all the horses in the country round ; Defy the foeman with prodigious might. Though well assured there's none at hand to fight ; "When innovations such as these begin, Ought not our ladies to be " counted in ? " Aye ! burst the barriers that have kept her fast. And give to woman all her " rights " at last ! May she not speak, though blest with healthful lungs, And doubly favored with the gift of tongues ? While man his seeming precedence attains, May she not sometimes drive, and hold the reins ? FEMALE EQUESTBIAN8HIP. 81 On this our annual Farmer's holiday, Hath she no charms and graces to display ? While man pursues his schemes for fame or pelf, May she not seek some market for herself ? In sooth she may ; nor let one cynic dare To chide this feature of our Berkshire Fair ! Come then, and in these festive sports engage ! Come spinsters all of problematic age, Come on, fair matrons, and ye laughing girls, With raven tresses or with auburn curls ; Come one, come all to ply those nameless arts. Which make such havoc with our tender hearts. Who knows how many an unrecorded prize Lurks now within some bashful lover's eyes ; How many a swain beholds but to adore Some favorite lass he almost loved before ! Ah ! who can tell, from such a scene as this, What hopes may follow, or what nuptial bliss ; What life-long pleasures, 'neath the smiles of fate, Upon the issue of these moments wait ! Health to the daughters of our worthy dames ! The brightest jewels which old Berkshire claims. Despising not the duties of their sphere, Behold the trophies of their labor here ! 82 POEMS, See the rich products of the dairy-room ; The tasteful fabrics of the housewife's loom ; The laces, silks, and works of finer art ; — Say, hath not woman well sustained her part ? And last, not least ; hath she not shown her skill To guide the steed, and curb him at her will ? O may our boys prove no ungi'ateful churls. Who own such soil and court such lovely girls ! Be it their pride to cherish and defend These best of treasures Heaven to man could lend ! S. B. S. LINES FOB ST. JOHN'S DAY. S3 ' i LINES FOE ST. JOHN'S DAT. \ i Another festal day's return : ] Thrice uttered be the greeting, As round those hghts that brightest burn, The Brotherhood are meeting. No anniversary of Time Our Order's records centre — When first she ope'd her gates sublime ! And bade the pilgrim enter. Who have not passed by Mount Moriah, ; Nor learned the sealed Ionic, i May deem the widow's son of Tyre j Possessed no word Masonic. But let rejected skeptics cry, • Her ancient dates are fiction : Few will presume to her deny 1 John's Saintly benediction. And, lo ! the bond in Art confessed, ^ When skilled with square and gavel, I Through Europe's courts, from East to West ^ The Masters freely travel. 84 POEMS. Wlieii round Cologne encamped tlie Craft — Those wonderful adapters, — Who crowned the simple Doric shaft With Corinth's beauteous chapters ; When he, whose architecture wove In stone the hymn and psalter, Upreared the Pantheon far above St. Peter's gorgeous altar ; When rectitude of heavenly law, Once symboled by the plummet, Was typified to heights of awe In Strasbourg's piercing summit ; Or when Milan's cathedral chou's First sang the strains of Starble — As burst into a spray of spires That soaring wave of marble. Albeit the operative tools Of true Masonic labor. Now yield the Order's nobler rules, Toward God, and self, and neighbor. We bring not from the distant Past A legendary story — The grandest hving structures cast Her monumental glory. LINES FOB ST. JOHN'S DAY. 85 Thanks to the Architect Supreme ! Who by the Temple's building, By every joined block and beam, By splendid wealth of gilding, By column and by vestibule, And by the place vail-hidden, Presented Wisdom's perfect school, To which our lives are bidden. No more the Pantheistic thought. Life is a plant's expansion : Man builds a House ; his deeds are wrought In texture of a mansion. The pavement of a ground-floor shows A handiwork indented ; The walls which faithfulness enclose, By justice are cemented. O, bond of Truth ! O, mystic tie ! That binds our heart-strings human^ In brotherhood that passeth by The vaunted love of woman ! Where, in the wide world's mighty scope, Are found the homes not wanting Thy blessed power for Faith and Hope, 'Gainst hollow cheer and canting ! 36 POEMS. The Ark whose capitals we greet — Which holds the workmen's wages — Has safely reached the Master's seat ; Borne down the Lodge of Ages. So shall it move, majestic, grand. Through Time's prescribed cycle, 'Till on the sea and on the land Shall stand the angel Michael ! C. A. S. CHRISTMAS LINES, 87 CHEISTMAS LINES, SENT WITH A PACKAGE TO THREE BOARDING-SCHOOL MISSES, CHRISTMAS DAY, 1853. I SAW them at the window. So like the Graces Three ; The loveliest and fairest The eye coidd wish to see ; And from those merry voices, Melodious and clear ; The welcome, " Merry Christmas I " Came floating to my ear. There stood the charming Annie, I always loved so well ; And Lou, for whom my fondness I hardly dare to tell ; And lastly, tho' not leastly Of all the Merry Three, There stood the merry JuHa— Oh what a witch is she ! And so I just bethought me, — All bashfulness aside ; — To send this bunch of sweetness, (My love solidified !) 33 POEMS. And now, adieu, sweet maidens I And always think of me, "Wlien you recall the Christmas Of Eighteen Fifty Three ! S. B. S. A POEM. 89 A POEM, DELIYERED AT BOYS AND GIRLS' FESTIVAL, JULY 4, 1856, AT GREAT BARRINGTON. As WEARY traveler, panting for repose. Halts on his jom-ney, where some streamlet flows ; Seeks out some grassy couch beneath the trees, And shuts his eyes, and calmly takes his ease ; So comes our Goddess, with a gladsome mien, Lured by the aspect of this jo3"ou3 scene. Sated with glory and the deafening noise Of crackers, guns, and patriotic boys ; Crazed with the medley — both of sounds and sights, — The crowds, the din, the independent fights ; — « The very music all at once she scorns, Intoxicated with so many horns ; — "Weary of these, we bid her welcome here, This nice old lady, in her eightieth year. Hearty, and hale, and fair she is, as when Her earliest presence cheered the soul-tried men. Her waist grows ampler, and her arms, 'tis true, Have kept on stretching all her lifetime through. For many a year, perplexed with want and toil. With meddUng neighbors and some family broil, 90 P0EM8. In fair proportions her estate has grown, By thrift and tact she more than holds her own. Her buxom form, for anght that now appears. Bids fair to last another four-score years — For well she knows, whatever may befall, Her Constitution can survive it all. Fain would the muse, with voice attuned to praise, Bepeat the story of her earlier days ; Becount the strange adventures of her youth — A tale of romance, but of treasured truth — How she and Jonathan conspired to wed, And when it was, and what the neighbors said ; How, ever since the nuptial knot was tied. Flocks, acres, children, all have multiplied. How, from the thirteen patrimonial farms, Hard earned at first, and kept by force and arms, The bounds have widened toward the setting sun, Till Jonathan is lord of thirty-one ! How, vexed and jealous at the rare success, Britannia sought her daughter to distress ; How Johnny Taurus came from o'er the sea. To put in force the tax upon his tea ; Fought eight long years, a strong and vigorous pull. And earned right well his name of Johnny Bull. A POEM. 91 How, once again, he strove the boys to licJc, And tough "Old Hickory" caused him to "cut stick" In later times, how, on a foreign field, Old " Eough and Eeady " quite forgot to yield ; How, from the first, through each successive year. On land, on sea, in every noble sphere, In science, arts, and legislative skill. With sword and plow-share, and the gray goose- quill, With wind and water, earth, and fire, and steam, And Hghtning harnessed like a docile team ; In every branch of commerce and of trade, Where man's proud impress ever yet was made ; Columbia's Sons, with ready zeal addressed. Have proved themselves the foremost and the best ; ALL this at length, the Muse would fain rehearse, In faithful numbers and befitting verse ; But, closely scanning the assembled throng, Forbears discreetly to protract her song. Columbia's goddess once again beholds her natal day. Her gallant sons and daughters fair are joined in glad array — 92 POEMS. ^ ■ i From liill and dale, from north and south, from east ! to western shore, Sound praises and thanksgivings for the patriot men ; of yore. 3 Fair Liberty beholds the scene with just maternal i pride, " j She gazes at her rich domain, extending far and i wide, — ; Her noble lakes, her busy streams, her prairies and savannahs, i While from them all, in unison, ascend the glad ho- sannas. ; "Alas!" she cries, " that in my name, one recreant ^ traitor should, I With impious hand, essay to part this glorious sister- hood ! I That midway o'er so fair expanse, should stretch ; that odious line — ] My sons ! guard well the heritage, 'tis yours — all i yours — and mine ! " ^ «lC 5|J 5f€ ^ 3j* All sated with glory and swelling with pride, i From the " noise and confusion " now turning aside, The goddess of Liberty hitherward strays, ] On the fresh face of youth and of beauty to gaze. ! A POEM. 93 " All ! these are my jewels !" with rapture she cries, As she pauses to wonder, while feastitig her eyes — " No regal display with its semblance of bliss, Can present such a heart-cheering picture as this !" With a radiant smile are her features o'erspread ; Every trace of disquiet has vanished and fled ; Not a shadow there lingers of doubt or of care, For she looks at her jewels, and cannot despair. Here she spies a bright youth, who in progress of years, At the far west shall Hve with the brave pioneers ; And that ruby-Hpped lass, as a Southerner's bride, O'er a cotton plantation shall one day preside. All this picturesque group shall be scattered afar, As old time rushes on with his clattering car ; But no absence or distance can wither or chill That remembrance of youth, that shall cling to us still. And our goddess well knows, that as each rolling year Shall bring round in its circuit this birthday so dear ; Every eye shall be bright, and by every tongue, From old ocean to ocean her praise shall be sung. 94 Jpomfs. No new State in its birth shall embarrass her cause, For no traitorous subject shall question her laws ; But the new State each Sovereign honestly craves, Is where Hymen presides, and the lords are the Lo ! her chariot waits, and "the goddess is in it ; ] She has got an appointment in Texas next minute — ■ ] She is donning her robe — 'tis of red white and blue — ' i Now she waves us her hand— and she bids us adieu I I S. B. S. i OLD SCENES. 95 OLD SCENES. My boyhood home is fresh to view ; The gladdening spring has dressed The landscape with her foliage new, And all the earth seems blest. The fine old street once more is paved With shadows from the elms, "Whose branches have for centuries waved In clear, ethereal realms ; And interclasped their wrinkled hands, With bridal verdure clothed. As though in earth they heard their bans ;- By Driad Priests betrothed. The hills and mountains are replete With glory as they stand : The one, soft sloping to our feet, The other sharp and grand. And close below the rugged steep, The Housatonic flows ; Like moat before a fortress keep, Defiant to its foes. 96 POEMS, ] And dotting all the valley plain, ' Are mansions of the proud, Who leave the city's strife for gain In summer's sultry cloud, ; In quiet haunts Hke these to find ^ : From care a sweet release, ^ And gather for a burdened mind 1 The recompense of Peace. This day above an hundred, seems j Enriched by Nature's rule ; ] The sun is temperate in his beams ; : The winds are low and cool. ' Now, while the morning hours remain, \ m seek some favorite place, ' Where I can wake an olden strain, : i Some childhood lines retrace. i And first my thoughts are westward turned, \ Beyond the pine-clad hill. ; Alas ! I'm told the grove is burned ; In ruin Hes the mill. The woods destroyed, the marble bed ; Untouched by workmen, save ,! When at a summons from the dead, i To decorate a grave. i OLD SCENES. 9/ So that to click of bar or spade Within our burjing grounds, The muffled drill alone is made To give responsive sounds. That ravished and deserted spot I cannot wish to see ; For what it was, and now is not, Would mournful speak to me. Across the river, 'neath a spring, Near to the mountain's crest, A rock of reddish hue juts forth, As from a mother's breast. Nor treble labor of ascent. Nor lack of picture grace From yonder rock, do now prevent My visit to its base. But I remember, vivid, when I last stood there at dawn With one I shall not see again — For George has long since gone. Two names upon the southern side, Were rudely carved by him ; But, I am told, before he died, The marks had grown quite dim. 98 POEMS. O, friend, beloved ! No sculptured stone Affords my heart relief ; I see in that rough rock alone My monument of grief. Forgive me, then, if I refuse To walk where oft with thee. Those paths — in pleasure others choose — They're sacred now to me. Then what direction shall I take. Where I in ease may look ? "Will memories jarring discord make Along the Roaring Brook ? Would any thing of recent change Unpleasant feelings bring. Should I decide to visit now The "Evanescent Spring?" The morning hours are fully passed ; The sun rolls down his zenith wave ; As with a fancy, pleased at last, I turn my steps toward Belcher's Cave. A hard and patient search revealed The cavern's mouth to me again ; For nature cunningly concealed The entrance to the forger's den. OLD SCENES. 99 Well I remember, venturous Dave j "Would lead us creeping through the porch ; ^ Then suddenly illume the nave | With flashes from his birchen torch. j i And when we boys would, proud, declare | Dave's cool contempt for snakes and ghouls ; Droll Tom would say : " He's oft been there. In search of Belcher's forging tools." , * I Ah, me ! when on far distant shore, j I stood beside each lowly grave ; j I did not think I should once more i Repeat their names in Belcher's Cave. Here history and tradition both ' Rehearse of charities and crimes ; ] The one, recorded under oath, j The other, tales of grandame's times. A lad who sought his father's ewe. One day, descried a curious smoke ; The bank soon up the chimney flew, • And this illegal broker broke. ' What days were " celebrated " here ! ^ Here there were scenes of wildest mirth ; The grandest frolics of the year ! Were held around this spacious hearth. 100 POBMB, I want tlie pictures of the early morn ; Not the cold thinking of the mind mature ; With harsh demands of duty these are born ; — • The former only in our hearts endure. Awake, ye echoes of the joyous past 1 I summon now a happy youthful throng. Come all, as when we here assembled last, With jest, and trick, and anecdote, and song. Fond recollections crowd a swift-winged hour, By turns provoking me to laugh and weep ; 'Till they, and my emotions, lose their power, And gladly (wearied) I recline and sleep. And as I slept, Lo ! I was in a trance ; A fairy troop surround my flinty bed ; With pantomimic gesturing they dance ; Then, close approaching, the Titania said* :■— x4.gain the fairy waved her golden wand— A lovely form descended from the clouds ! Madonna-like, her look was sweet and fond ; A nameless grace her noble brow enshrouds. * Wliat Titania said, is of too personal a nature to be here inserted. OLD SCENES. 101 She sat before me on a silver throne ! Her chastened beauty warmed upon my heart ; Methought another, higher sphere was known, — Of which earth-scenes some blessed hints impart. Again the sceptre waves ! The spell is broke ; The dear illusion can no longer please ; For O ! how full of agony I woke, And found that I was weeping on my knees ! An impulse, irresistible and strange, Prompts me to climb the craggy ledge above ; From whence I view the glorious set of sun, And learn the meaninoc of the dream of love. 'O Through the thick covering of the village trees, A pleasant cottage meets my roaming eye ; Instant, as though borne to me on the breeze. Sweet thrills of recognition force a sigh ! C. A. S. 102 POEMS, VALENTINE. The Ladj Helen is strangely fair, Endowed witli charms and graces rare ; "With histrons eyes, whose glance is rapture, And beautiful masses of sfolden hair. o^ A rich bloom, hke the summer rose. Upon her soft cheek courts repose. And o'er her features, when she smileth, A gleam as of sunHght comes and goes. Her brow is placid and serene ; Her form the proudest e'er was seen ; And, like the classic Grecian Helen, She seems by nature pronounced a queen. Her very presence hath a spell, Within whose light I've loved to dwell ; — To sit, and gaze, and only listen, To catch her syllables as they fell. Her heart, they say, hath boundless worth, Her beauty scarce can symbol forth ; In her, a spirit meet for Heaven, Its gentle influence sheds on earth. VALENTINE. 103 Unmarked amid tlie passing throng, These eyes have gazed enraptui'ed long ; This heart hath throbbed with wild emotion, That fain would break and outpour in song ! I could a tale of love unfold ; But the truth were just as well untold ; — 'Tis precious httle for me she careth, — A rusty bachelor forty years old ! ! But with thy leave, Saint Valentine, This wreath of poesy I'll twine ; But whence it comes, and who's the author, The Lady Helen could never divine. S. B. S. 104 POEMS. TO ADA Thou hast the wealth of beauty ; thou art fair, — As oft thy faithful mirror must have told thee ; — Endowed with charms and comely grace so rare, That all must pay thee homage who behold thee. Thou hast the wealth of mind ; to quest of lore, Classic and modern, thou hast given thy youth ; And — glorious thing in woman — ^liast in store Treasures of thought, of wisdom, and of truth. Thou hast the wealth of soul ; that nobler part, In all its depth and plenitude is thine, "Which gives the richest graces to the heart. And makes us kindred of a race divine. Thus, thrice-endowed with wealth, I may not doubt That whosoe'er thyself and thine shall win ; Will find a temple, beautiful without, And ornamented gorgeously within. S. B. S. TOUCHES AND MINTS. 105 TOUCHES AND HINTS. POEM DELIVERED AT ZETA PSI BANQUET, CAUEOENIA. It seems as if the gracious WiU That hoUowed out the bay, And smote the outer, rock-ribbed hill, To ope a golden way For sea and ship, for home and hope ; "Was equal in behest That man should plant on yonder slope The CoUege of the West. The long, low beach of sedge and vines ; The slow-retreating plain ; The emerald upland, which reclines Against the mountain chain, — Whose steep ascent and swelling girth Lend dignifying powers To that choice spot of all the earth For academic towers ! O, beauteous scene for brain and heart. Our students' life beguiles ; The sleeping vale, the teeming mart, The ocean and the isles ! 106 POEMS. With ever-varied shifting phase Of motion and repose ; "With mom's impenetrable haze, With evening's gorgeous close ! With shimmering noon, and glittering night. Of such translucent beam, As on the meditative sight Kevives the Berkeleyan dream ! Where wintry snows are never known, Nor enervating heat ; Within the isothermal zone, A sure and perfect seat. Where nature for the site supplies The Oracles of Fate, A bounteous wisdom justifies The Nation and the State. And, thanks to many a noble friend. Of unsectarian aim, Whose large endowments here descend With honor to his name. And, thanks for toil in leading chairs, By men of cultured skill, Who, 'mid a thousand teasing cares, Have kept an even will. TOUCHES AND HINTS. 107 Auspicious history ! From this page We hft a trustful gaze ; Though weightiest issues mark the Age, And anarchies amaze. Strong Fort of Faith ! Assaults are vain ; Thy banners never furled ! While Time may last, thou shalt retain The Outlook of a world ! Fair priestess ! who shall yet indite Ten thousand glorious names ; With reverent sentiments to-night, We dare invoke thy flames ! " Room for Reformers ! with their sovereign plan To heal or mitigate the woes of man." The cry is ancient as our Nation's time. Yet born anew in every tapster's rhyme. The field has widened at each fresh demand. Till desk and forum ope on every hand. Give Heed, O People ! is the prophet shout, Of those whose theory is the " Latest out." Nor less potential is the summons borne To found a sect, or lift a race forlorn ; Or force a city corner upon corn. 108 POEMS. Alike tlieir dignity, — the crowd to back ; — The long-eared medium, and the short-haired quack. The simple truths our patriot Fathers saw, Sketched in resolve and molded into Law ; By which in perils unsurpassed thej stood — Built with their bones, cemented with their blood : Are aU too narrow for the modern seer, "Whose wondrous License strikes the popular ear 1 Whose pubHshed writ is. Readiness for " fame," Won through a bloodless martyrdom of shame. Pretending now a scientific lore. And now a message from the ' other shore ;' Li either case prepared to tell, in terms, The grandest compound and the primal germs ; E-ehearsing nonsense in exultant tone, As if the lectui'es made creation groan ; In any case, prepared to scoff and sneer At every custom decency holds dear ; — Seducing ignorance with lascivious charms, And healthy conscience stinging with alarms. Such are Outriders, on the secular coasts, For less unselfish, less courageous hosts ; Who now disclaim, and afterwards suggest The " Progress " programme may be for the best ? TOUCHES AND HINTS. 109 " With cunning glance, to note in every move I The points debauched communities approve ; Le§t they should fail to pander, just in time, To some new doctrine, vicious but " sublime !" * See worthy subjects for the prison lock, i i Unblushing labor with the corporate stock, \ To cover up the robbery of a ring, \ Or fast enthrone some great monopoly king ; i Until the people, rising in a storm, j Announce their temper for a real reform. ] When Lo ! the foremost, with the loudest cheer, \ These rear-guard veterans suddenly appear ! j Their functions now a double game of cheat : \ Shape voted verdicts to a flat defeat ; : The while they make their own promotion sure, ■ And preach a flattering gospel to the poor ; \ Then in some office, lucrative and warm, ^ They whisper sadly of a lost Reform ! 1 Behold the highest council in the land ! -, What men dishonored ! and what rogues com- j mand ! j The jo\ial scoundrel (or the lucky fool), Eich from his ventures in a gambler's pool. For bigger tricks, or personal regard, , Concludes to take the senatorial card. j 110 POEMS. Instant proclaims, in condescending tone, His champion platform, as the " Laborers' own ! " Secures his organs by a brand new " dress," A monthly stipend, and a mammoth press. Pensions electors and the hovering scribes Who wiite his speeches and discount his bribes. Assumes the toga with an easy air. And flings, off-hand, the talks his friends prepare. (Keminding cronies — in their private chat, — *' Though wit had prestige, we've reformed all that.") Who shall these workings and these powers abate ? Inform the masses and preserve the State ! Where will you find the valorous strength and will To push these creatures from the seats they fill ? Who shall come forward and combine to raise The social standard of our earlier days ; When thieves, by purchasing official place. Could not obtain an honest household's grace ; When those whose name no stamp of honor bore, Would not presume to cross the good man's door ? Behold the masters of the daily " Press " ! Whose broadening power is almost measureless. How few perceive, confess, and trembling bear The moral burdens in the realm they share. TOUCHES AND HINTS. HI How many to such high position bring The view and purpose of a sordid thing. Perhaps buy out, and run with vengeful cast, Some well-born journal with an honored past. Breed typhoid-tumults o'er a clerkship wrong ; Misquote large markets, and old " jobs " prolong. Inlay their columns with the tales that smirch. And pass the platter in the wealthiest church. Spurn trifling offers from the babbling trade, And keep their virtue on a di'ess parade ; Maintain their cipher at the thousandth score, — And shed contempt on every dollar store. Let others falter with a timid qualm, — Their voice, we know, is always for Keform. A tearful pity touches the distress Of those compelled to read our neutral Press. Where circumstantial suppositions surge, In reckless grammar, to the very verge Of dire conclusions on the mooted head. Of what was once surmised to have been said. Who can presume to adequately greet The fer^dd, candid, superficial sheet ? Where every flabby " Reformation " scheme, — Creed of fanatic, and the sick man's dream, — 112 POEMS. Is treated gently, — in a savaiit style, Proudly repressive of tlie reader's smile. Wliere, every day, in paragraph and lines, The special hobby of the tripod shines ; — In tireless iteration making known A Balance Eegulator, all his own ! A short, infallible, perspicuous code. Which sets each subject his appropriate load. The very rich shall all the taxes pay ; The very poor need only vote and play. The prentice builders shall their wages rate, And draw an extra tribute from the State ; While those who mark the trestle-board and chart. Must take their income in a love of Art. Who shall expose the communistic scamps ? Combat agrarians, and the lecturing tramps? To real complaints appropriately reply ; To borrowed doubts return the reasons why ? With pleasing humor dissipate their chaff, And send their problems to the idiot's laugh ? Incline the people for the pubHc weal. To crush their counsels with contemptuous heel ; The mighty gulfs resistlessly present, 'Twixt just ambition and vile discontent ; TOUCHES AND HINTS. Illume anew the pathway and the scope Of careful judgment and a healthy Hope ? For such a service — welcomed in the van — Expect the College-educated man ! To some, a special and a noble call : A sphere of duty, more or less, to all. What though uncounted thousands never own The debt in such essential service grown ? What though a legion cannot understand That any dangers shadow o'er the land ? And, least of all, suspect explosive force From such a shallow, freedom-prating source ? Though every warning is decried and hissed. The threats portentious and the debt exist. And O, the grateful tribute, on this score, Due the alumni who have gone before ! Enough of surface thinking in the land. Sufficient privilege at each youth's command. More than enough of Proverb lore extant, — Oft wreathed in context of revolting cant. As well predict a harvest-field of grain On arid hill-side or Sahara plaiu, From equinoctials and the lunar heat ; As with the tribes of ignorant conceit 113 114 POEMS. Rely alone for fructifying powers On wealth's rewards and moral saw-dust showers. The need momentous is the souls combined With quick, electric, cultivated mind ; At whose decree economies shall rest Beneath profound, inexorable test. With no detraction of the highest force We speak emphatic for the College course. Since history's pages, at each calm review. Approve the framers, " wiser than they knew." The fostered relish for established fact, — The root of structure and the sum exact. The mental habits which the schools have shown, Wed to the nerves and bred into the bone. The days appointed and the tasks assigned To try the vigor of the pupil's mind, Before a bench of criticizing friends. Whose cheering counsel with their censure blends. The builded will to check the Fancy's haste. And make it wait on judgment and on taste. The fine attrition in the class retreat, 'Mid growths of friendship, — never more so sweet ! The duress for self-introspection keen ; The hard, remorseless wearing of the green. The glorious sovereignty which this drill implies To summon, portion, point, and focaHze ; TOUCHES AKD HINTS. II5 Till given topics at the cliosen hours Feel the white burning of harmonious powers ; With not a faculty allowed to roam Till law and contrast drive the statement home. Yast opportunities denote, The deepening want for men, Whose discipline shall antidote The shams of speech and pen. Whose quenchless passion for the truth Shall find a scholar's art, As from the fresh, brave soul of youth The fit suggestions start. Here grandest fruits of sound review In physics and in thought. With all the lights of Science new, Instructingly are brought. Here for Life Tournaments we bid. With Learning and with Love ; Where Logic's iron hand is hid Within the knightly glove. Priestess of Wisdom! Li whose torch The lights of satire play : Grant its imparted fires may scorch The falsehoods of the dav. IIQ POEMS. Priestess of Wisdom ! Genial glow The censers by thy side ! ,i Inspire the God-sons thou shalt know With warmth of manly pride ; | i And guard the children of thy heart, ] Linked in a mystic grace, . As from thy altars they depart, 1 To take their waiting place. No vaunt of spirit or of mein. No over-zeal for strife ; j But ready for each earnest scene That consecrates a life. LIKES, 117 LINES, READ AT ST. John's celebkation, f. and a. m., geeat BAKRINGTON, 1858. In ancient times, when Israel's king that famous fabric reared, In which his glory and his wealth so manifest ap- peared ; He, in his wisdom, first gave heed to Heaven's great law to man, And Order, beauteous and sublime, through all the process ran. No sound of axe or metal tool, through all the time was heard ; No craftsman broke the harmony by one contentious word; For so the work was portioned out by Solomon the wise, From comer-stone to capital, no discord could arise. Eleven hundred men, thrice told, as Master Masons wrought, And eighty thousand Fellow-Crafts ^e quarried mar- ble sought ; 118 POEMS. While Entered as Apprentices were seventy thou- sand more, Who, through the progress of the work, the heavy burdens bore. A vast Fraternity they were — a labor vast to share, Who always on the Level met, and parted on the Square ; And three Grand Masters gave the rules by which the work was done ; — The King of Israel, King of Tyre, and He — the md- ow's son. The columns and pilasters were of Parian marble wrought ; The timbers from the famous groves of Lebanon were brought ; Of cedar, fir, and olive wood, the stately walls were made ; And all within, and all without, with gold was over- laid. Thus, two great structures had a birth ; the one, of wood and stone, The other, framed and fashioned of Fraternal Love alone : LINES. 119 The one was joined in all its parts by cunning work of art ; The other, by the ligaments that fasten heart to heart. The one stood out in bold rehef against the vaulted sky; The other raised no towering front to greet the vul- gar eye ; The one was all resplendent with its ornaments of gold ; The other's beauty lay concealed beneath its mystic fold. Age after age hath rolled away with time's unceas- ing tide, And generations have been bom, have flourished and have died, Since wrought our ancient brethren on that Temple's massive walls, And thronged its lofty colonnades and walked its spacious halls. Tlie Temple, with its wondrous strength, hath yield- ed unto Time. The Brotherhood that flourished there, still lives and lasts sublime. 120 POEMS. The one, a mere material thing, hatli long since passed away ; The other holds its vigorous life, untouched by Time's decay. Long may it live, through coming years its excel- lence to prove, And Masons ever find dehght in offices of love ; Till summoned hence, the glory of that Upper Lodge to see. When the Grand Master shall confer on each, his last degree, S. B. S. VEBSES. 121 VEESES, BEAD AT ST. JOHN'S CELEBRATION, PITTSFIELD, JUNE, 1860. The muse who is courted scarce once in a year, Is apt to grow shy, when you wish she'd draw near. Like most other divinities, she too prefers To grant wishes of those who pay some heed to hers. So I found yester eve, as I made invocation For aid in a forthcoming tight situation ; For all my advances she met with a slight, And said, " Poets, like Masons, had better keep bright." To compromise matters I promised a sonnet, Or some sensation theme, like the new style of bon- net, — The one lately over from Paris, you know. With the vast, overhanging, immense portico ! Then the smiles and the frowns o'er her countenance But 'twas plain to be seen which would triumph at last; So she hastily twined this rude garland of song, And bestowed it on me — and I brought it along. 122 POEMS. As over life's thoroughfares jostling we go, Toward the same fated goal where the dark waters flow, It is well by the wayside to pause now and then, To recall that we're brothers and feel that we're men. All along on our march, if we will but behold — Life's sunny oases their beauties unfold ; We may linger to rest and refresh, if we will. Like the Craftsman of old, at the brow of the hilL "We honor the Order, whose festival day Brings the brotherhood hither in gladsome array, To join in this ancient, fraternal communion. This cordial, old-fashioned Masonic re-union. We honor the Order, whose principles dear Make each man with his fellow a recognized peer ; And whose language of emblem and signal are one, 'Neath a boreal sky and a tropical sun. Whose ritual, solemn, antique and subhme ; — Outliving its history — lasting as time — Still charms and controls with its mystical sway, As in Solomon's reign and Zerubbabel's day. VERSES. 123 We honor its tenets, wbicli gladly bestow Equal favors on all — on the lofty and low ; High as heaven, broad as earth, deep as nethermost sea, — Even such should a true Mason's charity be ! We ope not our portals at wealth's proud behest, Nor to fame with her plume and heraldical crest ; But to him, high or humble, who honestly brings The warm, throbbing heart from which Masonry springs ! That heart, whether hid 'neath the vesture of toil, — 'Neath the garb of the peasant who tilleth the soil, Or the fabric in which one worm dresseth another, We hail it the same as the badge of a brother. 'Neath the mariner's jacket, afar on the deep, You shall test it, and find it is never asleep ; 'Neath the rude savage breast, when no mortal is nigh, It is visible still to the All-seeing Eye. Its presence is heeded in every zone ; By priest on the altar, by prince on his throne ; Wheresoever the tribes and the races belong, Lo ! Masonry's vast multitudinous throng ! 124 POEMS. 'And Masonry's mission : 'tis simply to prove 'Mid tlie discords of life, how potential is Love : To revere what is sacred, to feel what is human, To show good will to man and true honor to woman. Be it ours in our day to preserve it alive. In Faith, Hope and Charity, long may it thrive ; Till mankind, in the light of its d(»eds shall agree That the whole world one Grand Lodge of Masons should be ! S. B. S. LINES. 125 LINES, EEAD AT ST. JOHN's CELEBRATION, OF EVENING STAR LODGE, LEE, MASS., JUNE, 1859. (WEITTEN DUBING THE EXEECISES.) There's one thing stands exceeding clear, — And much as I expected, — It comes from West, and South, and East ; " My boy, you're just elected ! So make a speech, or sing a song ! (They say that Cincinnatus Presents a chap, who's troubled, too,* With — ^very sHght — afflatus r) This mom, as Sol rose in the East, To call his craft to labor ; " Come, come ! " said he, — " it's time for you To stir yourself, my neighbor ! You know you're of the * Lesser Lights,' My adolescent brother ! " Said I — " Don't call me that again ; If I'm one, you're another ! * Another poem was read on the same occasion by F. O. Sayles, Esq., of Berkshire Lodge, South Adams. 126 POEMS. Don't think because you closed your Lodge So gloriously last even ; And left us striving to peer through That golden gate to Heaven ; And cheered sweet Orient with a smile, And, like a gallant lover. Dispelled the gloom, and placed instead That Koyal Arch above her ; Don't think," said I,—" to rise at morn, Behind that mask up yonder ; And chase our pleasant dreams away By muttering so like thunder ! And don't — I beg you — don't repeat Those tricks in — hydrostatics ; Which make poor Luna hide her face, And give me such rheumatics ! We meant to have a hoHday ; A feast of love and reason — And celebrate, with right good will. This rare old festive season ; But how am I to keep the step, Or swing a dext'rous gavel. With all these twinges at the joints. To plague me while I travel ! " LINES. 127 " Come, come ! " the Day-king gave response, " Don't fret in sucli a manner ; The time is up, and brothers now Are rallying 'neath your banner. Old Cincinnatus left his plow To serve his fellows, gladly ; You know the rest — so don't desert Your colors quite so badly ! " So here I come — all out of breath — But if you would " see Sam ; " Or ask if he's among this throng, I beg to state — " I am! " I'm always there, in soul or flesh, In spite of adverse weather, "Where, in the bonds that bind true heartSj True men are met together. And very pleasant 'tis to gaze On scenes like these, my friends ; "Where brothers meet in glad embrace, And wit with wisdom blends ; Where beauty smiles to crown the feast, And music breathes her strain ; — "Where youth exults with high impulse. And age — is youth again ! 128 POEMS. O, what are all the baubles worth We strive to win and save, Wliile scrambling, as we blindly do. From cradle on, to grave ! We go shell-gathering all our days. As babes, as boys, as men ; While still the solemn question comes, " What then ! "—ah, yes ! what then ! The time is up ; — chop off the string ! Now, join, each grateful brother ! And mark, kind friends, who're not of us, Hoiv Masons toast each other! Our Geneeous Hosts ! all hail to you — Te men of high endeavor ; And thou— bright Evening Star — shine on. Forever — and forever. S. B. S. TO BELLE. 129 ^ TO BELLE. SOMETHING WAS AND IS NOT. I TAKE the old familiar walk To the brow of the pleasant hill, From whence we've watched the evening sun Its parting rays distil. I stand upon the oaken bridge, And mark the waters ghde, The same as I have seen them, dear, When seated at your side. And O ! my heart, it wUl go back, — I cannot keep it still, — I cannot change its tortuous track By virtue of my will. And I wonder sadly, strangely, If there yet a heart may be, Whose memories of olden time Are somehow linked with me ! There's not a bush, or briar, or tree, I see no wayside flower, But what suggests some thought of thee. As of a long-flown hour. 130 POEMS. Kind nature tunes her various voice To suit my listening ear ; — The breezes do not now rejoice, No laughing stream I hear ; But a soft and plaintive song is borne From the circKng mountain slopes ; And the murmuring river seems to mourn The dirges of my hopes : — As I wonder sadly, strangely, If there yet a heart may be, Whose pleasant memories of old Are somehow linked with me ! No hot and feverish state of brain Induces me to find In yon half-burned and ruined mill A picture of my mind. Its fallen timbers, charred and black. Its flood-gates swept away, — Appropriate types they well may seem Of my premature decay. Through the swollen dam, unceasingly, The swollen torrents roll ; So pour the streams of inner life O'er the embers of my soul. TO BELLE. 131 And I wonder sadly, strangely, If there yet a heart might be, "Whose memories of olden time Are somehow linked with me ! If e'er thy feet retrace the paths In the meadows and the glade, Where oft, in love's communion sweet, Together we have strayed ; And the thought of an olden time rise up, — Thy soul's unbidden guest, — Think of me at my best, dearest. Think of me at my best. For I ne'er shall view the evening sun, From the brow of the pleasant hill. Or stand upon the oaken bridge. Above the ruined mill, But I shall wonder, O how sadly ! If one noble heart there be. Whose tender dreams of bygone scenes Are somehow linked with me ! C. A. S. 132 POEMS. ATLANTIC CABLE POEM. READ AT RECEPTION OF CYRUS W. FIELD, AT STOCK- BRIDGE, MASS., AUGUST, 1858. Huzza ! the magic cable's laid ; and now, across the main, Britannia hails her daughter fair, who answers back again : With lightning flash, through watery depths that roll and surge between, Columbia's President responds to Britain's smiling Queen. Rejoice, ye sons of men, rejoice ! the wondrous deed is done ! The hemispheres, like Siam's Twins, at last are joined in one ! One little iron Hgament imites each mighty part. Through which the swift pulsations throb, as beats the planet's heart. Now, hand in hand, in warm embrace, the Old World and the New, As bridegroom and as bride, rejoice in wedlock firm and true ; A TLANTIC CABLE POEM. 133 The sea-wave stoops its lofty crest, and kissing either shore, Consents, the sacred tie shall last till Time shall be no more. " For ages past," — the sea exclaims, — '' I've all the while been fighting With might and main, to keep this pair their mar- riage vows from plighting ; I've tossed and foamed, and roared between, and made an awful pother. But all for nought ; — e'en now the rogues are whis- pering to each other ! Hail, mighty Science ! once again we note thy con- quering tread, And praise thee for this last and greatest blessing thou hast shed ; For who may count, or comprehend the vast, un- measured good. That hence shall flow to benefit the world's great brotherhood ! And thanks, — our heartfelt thanks to them, — the men of tireless zeal, — Who ventured all, and battled all, t' advance the human weal ; 134 POEMS. "Who hoped, and dared, and bravely wrought, 'gainst wind, and wave, and storm. The grand achievement of the age, in triumph to perform. The Cyrus of the olden time, for deeds of valor done, A deathless name emblazoned on the page of Xenophon ; And school boys now, in solemn quest of ancient Grecian lore. Peruse his dying speech ; and wish — he'd died an hour before ! No haughty, steel-clad foeman hath our modern Cyrus slain ; No thousands of the enemy lie stretched upon the plain ; A nobler victory by far, our Berkshire boy shall claim ; A loftier niche is hewn for him within the halls of Fame! Old Neptune is the vanquished foe ; and he whose praise we sing. The hero of a bloodless fight, hath conquered Ocean's King ! ATLANTIC CABLE POEM, 135 Let old Eolus blow his gales, and Neptune nurse liis ire ; Our thought shall still dart through the deep, in words of living fire ! Now, to the mighty Lord of Hosts, all praise and glory be, Who giveth man to hold enchained, the everlasting sea ; To tame the Hghtnings, rule the winds, the continent to span ; Glory to God on high ; and on earth, peace ; good will to man ! One parting cheer ; — one joyous cheer ; — let all the welkin ring ! Let all with one accord lift up the voice to praise and sing. Old Berkshu-e greets the nations all, the islands far awa' — Three cheers for Field, her gallant son ! Huzza ! Huzza ! ! Huzza ! ! ! ^ S. B. S. * At the delivery of this poem, the assembly all rose and joined in the cheer at the conclusion, with splendid effect. 136 POEMS. TWO WEEKS. Two WEEKS ago, my dearest dear, — It seems as 'twere full many a year ! Before, time was a shallow stream ; — It deepened in love's radiant beam. Before, I felt earth's cares alone. Now, sweetest joys and hopes are known. All ! what experience can it be That fires this finer life in me ? Something from out my heart is given — Something has filled my soul with Heaven. The world's best praise, its slanderous sneer, I neither covet now, nor fear. O ! what has wrought this mighty change, — To me inexplicably strange ? Tell me, my dear, for you must know. What's passed since two short weeks ago. C. A. S. LINES. 137 LINES, RECITED AT DEDICATION OF ALUMNI HALL, WILUAMS COLLEGE, AUGUST, 1859. I MUST confess to something like that same old per- turbation, Which, very oddly, used to come before the recitation ; When called to give some lucid guess about the orbs celestial, With notions quickened by the gaze of certain orbs terrestrial. You see, that sanguine autocrat,* (and slightly san- gumary). Who, thinks, no doubt, the feast is best when most the dishes vary — Makes game of me ; and brings me here — a sort of scapegrace son — Along with Colt's artillery t to fire this mi-nute gun ! Hard by the spot, where, years ago, Fort Massachu- setts stood, To keep at bay the savage foe, — ^the red men of the wood, — * Eev. Dr. Durfee, wlio invited the author to deliver a poem on the occasion. t Allusion to Hon. J. D. Colt's speech, same occasion. 138 P0EM8. Another fortress stands to-day, its beacon light to shed, And better read men supersede the red men long since fled. Thanks to the Colonel ! generous soul, who shelled liis substance here ; Beheld his comrades' patient toil, and gave them words of cheer ; Who caught, in hope and faith, some ghmpse of this refulgent light ; Whose hope is now fruition ; whose courageous faith, our sight ! 'Tis strange how Fortune oft-times lures her very dar- lings on, And makes them sufferers while they live,, but he- roes when they're gone ! The jealous dame but dealeth right, and history ceas- eth never To show how self decays ivith self, but good deeds live forever. That generous gift bestowed in faith, in fortune's darker hour ; — Th' assuring voice which faltered not amid the tem- pest's power ; — LINES. 139 I tell you, these shall live for aye, embalmed in grate- ful story, And Ephraim Williams ! thy name blended, — semper sit inflore ! A hundred years and more have sped since he, our founder, died. He fell as falls the robust oak — in fulness of his pride ; Ere Hfe's expandiug bud had fairly opened into bloom. His soul — swift-summoned — found its God ; his mor- tal part, its tomb. He could not know, he could not see, in all his fond- est dreams, How far abroad that Httle torch should send its kindly beams ; Nor how, through all the centuries, its life-impart- ing rays Should help illumine isles afar, and set the earth ablaze ! Behold the lesson, how complete ; the moral, how sublime ; Behold what simple acts outlive the wasting force of Time! 140 POEMS. ; The grandest awe invests our life ; and conscience j bids us heed What wondrous possibilities attend each thought and deed. | Come now, my brothers, leap with me the gulf of i years between, i And pause a moment to survey the beauty of the \ scene. i Let Memory, smiling through her tears, her garner- ed treasures bring, And o'er us, let her sister, Hope, her radiant halo ; fling. i These peerless mountain-monarchs stand, defiant as \ of yore, — | (The rock-ribbed fogies still insist that tunnels are i a bore.) \ The sky o'erhead appears to hold its primitive con- j dition, ' And Green and Hoosic flow as erst, in faithful coali- tion. But Green and Hoosic float no more the Sachem's ' light canoe ; , The engine shrieks where once was heard the In- | dian's wild halloo ; LINES, 14X And e'en that sage old cheese, the moon — tho' strange may seem the story— Comes, tempted by the midnight glass, to our ob- servatory. And still, here stands Fort Williams; — aye ! I vastly like the name ; — Our Alma Mater seems a sort of Anglo-Spartan dame ; Behold her sit with jewelled robes, and many crowns upon her, To welcome home her gallant sons, and note their scars of honor ! And hence, upon each natal day, our best of nursing mothers With hearty benediction sends a class of learned brothers ; And bids them go where duty calls, wherever that may be, Throughout our country's broad domain, or far be- yond the sea. And hither, on each natal day, come fresh men by the scores. To fill the void, and, in their turn, to tread these classic floors ; 142 POEMS. O, liappy youths who thus begin, each with his new- found peers, To gather the experiences of these bright college years ! And hither, also, we have come, to hold our brief re-union ; To meet once more beneath these shades in sweet but sad communion. Our mother's waist has ampler grown ; more numer- ous rise her towers ; Her sunshine bringeth sure return in ceaseless gold- en showers. But, Alma Mater ! as we stand around the family tree, Thou dost not show us, after all, what most we long to see. Thy very words of welcome do but send our thoughts astray, If, haply, we might catch one glimpse of that sweet yesterday ! The very forms that now respond to names of " auld lang syne," Bear marks of life's approaching noon, or afternoon's decline ; LINES. 143 And others — dear, departed friends ! — old men, and youths as well — For such the death-star speaks the truth we need not words to tell. But this we know, who linger yet, our feelings are not colder, — And Alma Mater more than holds her own, as she gi'ows older. Upon her brow we find no trace of anxious doubt or care; Her means of influence multiply, and how can she despair ? And now to Fortress Williams, a parting toast is here ; And Alma Mater ; may she live till Time's remotest year; And long as earth and sea endure, may her renown increase ; " Her ways be ways of pleasantness, and all her paths be peace !" S. B. S. 144 POEMS. HELENA. I CANNOT praise thine eye, thy form ; I cannot tell the faith I place : Within thy heart — so kind and warm — I could not number every grace. My tongue refuses to declare The fascinations which I feel ; Nay, while the bhssful bond we share, Why search the figures on the seal ? Our full communion, strong in health, No selfish reckoning abides ; Open and free we hold our wealth, — Not as the miser counts and hides. Yet, not in passion's fevered school Have we attained our mutual thought ; The worthiest judgment bore the rule, And into love wise sanction wrought. Hours that are past, how close in peace ! May years to come our hopes sustain ; 'Till time's swift river finds release Within the unencircled main. c. A. a VEBSES, 145 VEKSES, READ AT CELEBRATION, 4Tn JULY, 1861, AT GREAT BARRINGTON, MASS. I THOUGHT it would be SO ! 'Twas only this morning A young man approached me and uttered his warn- ing ; Said he ; " My dear feUow, mind what you're about ; If you call round to dine, you'U be surely caUed out ! " " CaUed out ! " I exclaimed, with perceptible choler — "Pray, what do you mean? Don't I hand out my dollar? May n't I mingle, forsooth, in these festival scenes. And punish my share of the SY/eet peas and greens ? I never fight duels ; — I ne'er was put through The diet of pistols and co£fee for two ; — So I tell you, my friend, with an emphasis stout, I'll be shot if I stand it : — I won't be called out ! " "Not so fast ! " said the youth ; — " there's no mahce prepense, — Take my words in a mild and Pickwickian sense ; 146 POEMS. Do not torture your nerves in such terrible shape — I'm trying to help you get out of a scrape. You see, years ago, — it's no business of mine — But you flirted, they say, with the musical Nine ; And gossips still whisper, that if the truth's known, You cherished a passion you haven't outgrown. And to-day, after dinner, when stomachs are full. And people grow heavy, and jokes become dull ; Just as likely as not, some sly fellow will shout, — * There's a bird that can sing — let us whistle him out ! ' " "My stars ! " I soliloquized ;— " what shall I do ? I can't make a speech after dinner, that's true ; And as for a song — well, it might have been worse ; As the least of two evils I'll stick to the verse ! " So, a national toast, very hastily drest In a homespun apparel, and coarse at the best, 1 bid you be drinking : fill up the glass then. And with lips that are loyal shout forth your Amen. The Star Spangled Banner ! though traitors would rend it, With firm hearts and true we will ever defend it ; VEESES. 147 Still proudly upheld, it shall float on the gale, Nor one orb in its bright constellation shall pale ! While burn in the breasts of their children the fires That kindled aforetime the zeal of our sires ; We swear that forever, on land and on sea. It shall still wave triumphant, the Flag of the free ! When the untempered passions that govern the hour, Have spent their wild rage and exhausted their power ; Far aloft, never doubt, up in heaven's free air. We shall gaze and thank God that our Flag is still there ! O ever undimmed may those colors unfold ; The red, white and blue, and the spangles of gold ; — Still proudly, still firm to the breezes unfurled, The hope of the nations ; the joy of the world ! S. B. S. 148 POEMS. MEMOEIES. A POEM DELIVEKED BEFORE THE ALUMNI OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE, AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF 1861. Capeicious Muse ! about whose temples throng Adepts and bunglers in the art of song ; Before whose shrine in loyal homage bent, Unnumbered bards their votive gifts present ; Behold ; another suppliant stands aloof, Impatient, noting each severe reproof To hapless mortals, as they venture near, " Begone, impostors ! pray — how came ye here ? " But list, coy mistress of that wondrous art, Which holds such empire o'er the human heart ; Before thy smile its magic spell withdraws, I plead like Brutus — "hear me for my cause ! " In bygone days, ere yet with reverent aAve I dared approach the sages of the law : Ere yet from day-dreams of my youth I woke. To grapple Blackstone, and contend with Coke ; To drudge and labor for litigious men, "And scrawl strange jargon with the barbarous pen ;'* "When hours were golden, and when life was new, And all its scenery wore a roseate hue ; MEMORIES, 149 Oh, then, thou know'st, I sought, nor quite in vain, To weave pet fancies in poetic strain. Dame " Technia " might relate, did she but choose, What court I paid thee, now reluctant muse ; So might her sons, who bid me now essay To catch some glimpses of that earHer day ; And, home returning, having wandered long. To deck these altars with a wreath of song. O, then ! in memory of the days lang syne. Once more attune this sHghted harp of mine ; Touch with thy sceptre its neglected strings, Shape these rude numbers as thy supphant sings ; Glad with thy presence and auspicious mien This rare occasion, this inspiring scene. Fratres Alumni ! from each busy sphere Once more withdrawing, find we welcome here. Here, where aforetime — aye-remembered days — The lists we entered for scholastic bays ; Gathered from this our mother's bounteous store The facts of science, and the classic lore Embalmed forever in the glorious tongue "Wherein great Homer and Anacreon sung ; Here, 'mid these lordly hills, these quiet groves, — Scenes of our earlier rivalries and loves — 150 POEMS, "Where unschooled notions caught their chastened tone ; Where, haply too, some last wild oats were sown ; Here, whence departing — boys no longer then — "We hailed our first proud impulses as men ; Here haply gathered, well I know what theme Lends inspiration to each waking dream. The realm of Memories, on this day of days, Outspreads its landscape to our longing gaze ; "While she, its queen, of ever changeful face, — Now Ht with smiles — ^now dark with sorrow's trace ; — She — Hope's twin-sister — emulous to share Our all of hfe — all that we have and are — Extends a welcome hand, while thus we own Our just allegiance to her mighty throne. Blessed of mortals is the man whose heart Preserveth ever from the world apart. Some choice retreat, within whose sacred walls The olden memories hold their festivals. Where fond memorials of the past are hung ; Where thoughts go clasped with fancies ever young ; Echo the lays of home and childhood hours. And floats the incense of life's vernal flowers. Before whose guarded, tabernacled shrine, Maternal prayers attend in shapes divine ; • MEMORIES. 151 And earlier loves, and joys of long ago Their sweet notes warble in delicious flow. Beneath such mortal's form, howe'er uncouth, Be sure, upsprings the fount of endle^ss 3'outh. Somewhat that's human, ever in his breast Asserts its presence as a constant guest ; Something is throbbing, 'neath whate'er disguise, That may be touched with generous sympathies. Some such kind motor, brothers, — is it not ? Hath brought ye hither to this cherished spot, — Of old-time scenes, some transient glimpse to gain; — Beview the by-gones, and be boys again. Memories my theme : Oh ! hst kind friends the while ; The gentle muse bespeaks your gracious smile. Pray don't forget, though this is classic ground, And these are scholars, learned and profound ; Yet he who seeks your transient thoughts to lure, Is no professor, but an amateur. Attend, ye doctors ! to the dogs give over Doses of physic, while the men recover ; "While Pegasus shall limp before your eyes, He'll give your patience healthful exercise. Hear je^ attorneys ! don't, for once, demur ; The muse retains you : charge the fees to her ! 152 POEMS. No doubt she'll serve you as some clients do, And i3rove insolvent when the cause is through ! Ye reverend clergy ! hearken, I beseech ; Give laymen license now and then to preach ; Your best of sermons, with the listening throng, Have most effect when sandwiched well with song. Ye pedagogues ! who wear your nerves all out In teaching those " young idiots how to shout," Commit a while the text-books to their shelves. And frankly own you once were boys yourselves ! And thou, sage critic ! drop that dreadful sneer ; 'Twill be your turn to poetize next year ; Beware ! lest I avenge my jealous muse, And pluck your plumage — in the " Crowville News ! " Sweet memories of childhood hours ! how gratefully they steal Across our minds, as Time revolves his never-halting wheel ; The pleasant thoughts that cluster round the old paternal home, — Be these our priv'leged visitants thro' all the years to come ! Perhaps it was a humble cot, where frugal meals were spread ; A plain, unostentatious roof above the infant head ; MEMORIES. 153 Or, maybe, 'twas a mansion proud, around whose plenteous board A generous hospitality its rich libations poui-ed. But whether cot or stately hall, it needs not to in- quire ; "Whether the boy went barefooted, or clad in rich attire ; Or whether she who gave him birth, was one of haughty air, Or patient being, long inured to housewife toil and care. Ah, no ! it is not circumstance of outward good or m, Can make our past awake within the sympathetic thrill; For, whether carved elaborate, or plainly wrought, the frame. Our memory's faithful portraiture attracts and charms, the same. That was a proud, eventful day, when first the hope- ful son Forsook the age of baby frocks, and put those trousers on ! 154 POEMS. 'Twas on a pleasant Sabbath morn : e'en now it makes me smile To think how grand he marched to church, and strutted up the aisle ! That jacket, with the buttons on! their brilliance, I'll be sworn, Beat every badge or epaulette the fellow since has worn; And there were pockets big enough for knife, and top, and string — The boy was hero then, be sure, and happy as a king. And you'll remember, like enough, about that fa- mous sled, With hickory runners, natural crook, and painted very red. 'Twas christened the " Excelsior," or some eupho- nious name. And had, upon the school-house hill, a quite distin- guished fame. And when you coasted, after school ; — I hope you won't deny — 'Twill do no harm to own it now, but boys are pre- cious sly — MEMORIES 155 'Twas quite your liabit, out of which perhaps some others grew, To offer little Jane a chance to sHde doT\Ti hill with you! That ancient school-house holds a place in memory still, I trow. Where tasks seemed so impossible, and time so dreadful slow ; Where " Webster's Elementary " was sadly dogs- eared o'er, And Peter Parley — good old soul — became an awful bore ! And if, perchance, you overstepped that most pre- posterous rule, And stood convicted of the crime of whispering in school ; Ah, me! what childish penitence came trembling from your tongue, As o'er your head, " you rascal, sir ! " that birchen sceptre swung ! Those well-worn desks, if standing yet, I'll venture to declare, Along their honored surfaces, your famed initials bear. 156 POEMS. You tliouglit it was a clever job, done up exceeding brown; But now, the letters stand askew, and one is upside • down ! Of merry Christmas hohdays, shall I forget to sing? When Santa Claus a fresh supply of gifts was sure to bring ; When all the household was aglow with festive mirth and glee, And each young urchin donn'd his wreath, and decked his Christmas tree. Those rows of stockings, round the hearth, arranged with partial care ; — What wondrous faith in dear St. Nick's ubiquity was there ! How oft we strove to keep awake, so haply we might hear The clattering sound on housetop, of the phantom sledge and deer ! And how, as morning dimly dawned, with emulous desire, Besounded merry welcomings to loving dame and sire; MEMORIES. 157 And o'er each treasure brought to light, its new pos- sessor gloried, And in its turn each stocking-full was duly invento- ried. The feast, too, was a grand affair ; when all the aunts and cousins Were congregated round the board in numbers told by dozens. No Saratoga can restore to us dyspeptic sin- ners The appetites that lent the sauce to those prodig- ious dinners ! The old church, with its moss-grown tower, whose structure you believed The grandest architectural feat the race had e'er achieved. Has now a double sacredness, as, after years have sped, You see what kindly influences about your path it shed. How grateful on the list'ning ear, on Sabbath morn- ing, fell The never-failing summons of the sweet church-go- ing bell — 158 POEMS. The old church-bell ! how, latterly, with pleased sur- prise, you own What else-neglected memories wake in freshness at its tone ! There, in the wonted place of prayer, and thankful praise, and song, You lent a happy, youthful face to that familiar throng. There oft you stayed with Sabbath-school and vil- lage-choir, at noon. And learned the sacred lesson, and the good old- fashioned tune. The gathered throng of worshipers is vastly changed to-day ; And many a face is older grown, and most have passed away. The venerable forms you knew, as rapid years have sped, Have, one by one, betaken them to regions of the dead. The parson and the chorister have gone their sev- eral ways ; Another voice from pulpit now, its messages con- veys; MEMORIES. 159 And Doctor Watts, in some" absurd, fantastic garb, you see, Whose quaint old costumes charmed you once — sweet Corinth, and Dimdee ! Yet, sometimes, as the ancient bell from out the steeple rings. And Signor Fiddle-faddle' s choir some old-time an- them sings ; Once more your pulses beat response to welcome peal and strain, And home, and youth, and all the dear old past are back again ! O, all ye scenes of boyhood days ; what stories ye could tell Of joys ye mutely witnessed once, of griefs that once befel ; Yet long as time's dominion lasts, it shall not be dis- covered Around each spot what cherished thoughts and memories have hovered. There's many a patch of earth beneath the over- spreading sky, Presents no feature to allure the casual passer- by; 160 POEMS. It is but acre, house and barn, to his unthinking gaze, Who sees it unillumined with the light of other days ; Yet, somewhere, over earth's expanse, there gleams a human face. Gleams ever with a brighter glow, at thought of that loved place ; To him, how truly picturesque its scenery appears, Up through the length'ning vista of irrevocable years ! There was the wanderer's early home ; there, oft in blissful dream, Again he sports upon the knoll, or paddles in the stream ; There each remembered rock and tree its vigil seems to hold O'er sacred memories of the past — the scenes, the times of old. This makes the poetry of life ; O, doubt not, gra- cious friends. On each and all — in some rare moods — the gentle muse descends. Alas ! our words can ne'er repeat those finer strains that roll Their sweet Eolian harmonies across the captive soul. MEMORIES. 161 Enough for us, if, now and then, some power the sense o'erwhelms. And tenderly uplifts us into bright, ethereal realms ; And almost, in strange melodies, we feel to us is given To catch dehcioas echoes of the symphonies of Heaven. To merrier measure and rollicking rhyme, The versatile muse bids our fancy keep time ; TVliile, just for the moment, we pass in review Some prominent scenes which, as students, we knew. Our college remembrances ; — bless thee, our mother ! Who mad'st us thy children, and each son a brother — Not least of thy bounties we reckon the tether Which binds us as parts of one household together. Those years spent in college — how brimming the cup Which their fond reminiscences serve to fill up ; No fraction of life-time contributed more To the treasures our memory holdeth in store. And gladly to-day, as we joyfully meet, The old-time acquaintance and class-mate to greet, 162 POEMS. I hail the occasion, and bid ye retrace The fancies that clamor for uppermost place. Come, then, fellow-students, and banish your fears ! Who cares that your Latin has rusted for ^^ears ! Let Pegasus furnish your " pony " and " Smart ;" The lesson's an old one ; we'll have it by heart. No matter to-day how your scholarship stands ; I tell you, the record's in excellent hands ; And as to who " flunked," or with " honors " was flush, I've some personal reasons for keeping that hush. That verdant young Freshman : — he's since become " Colonel," Or "M. C," or "Judge," or the "boss" of a journal ; " Professor," or what-not ; — but wasrCt he green, When he came on to college, a youth of sixteen ! How all the societies bored and beset him. To see if he'd do, and then — if they could get him. How kindly the graduates put him in trim, And sold at one bargain their bedsteads and — him ! How proud when accepted, and bidden to come, He started in quest of his room, and his chum. MEMORIES. 153 How grandly West College loomed up to his view ; — Of its dense population, how little he knew ! How the Sophomores grinned as he scampered down stairs At the first chapel bell, the first morning, for pray- ers. How he solved from that moment the mystery deep, How to make most of time, and economize sleep. How he passed each ordeal of practical joke ; Discovered how blarney ends often in smoke ; And when Sophomores raised their tumultuous din, And shouted " Heads out !" learned to keep hia head in! And, oh, human nature ! — the same evermore — How he rehshed the fun, as he reckoned it o'er ; And resolved the whole farce should be stoutly re- vived. Just as soon as the next batch of Freshmen arrived. How, little by little, 'mid college routine. Some marked metamorphoses came to be seen ; And the youth of last year, very verdant and raw, Came to have, in some sphere, quite distinguished edat. 164 POEMS. Perhaps, my dear sir, — you know best as to that — Ton became college champion, with ball and with bat; Perhaps, when you spouted your maiden oration. They dubbed you next " MoonHght "^ with loud ac- clamation. Perhaps you were famous for muscle ; and so "Whenever the class above yours, or below. Undertook their superior force to declare, It was deemed quite essential that you should be there. Perhaps, from an awkward, unpromising clown. You became the Beau Brummel of college and town. No doubt there were chaps who knew more of Greek roots. But you beat them all hollow on neck-ties and boots ! Perhaps you grew partial to serpents and hzards ; Caught innocent birds, and extracted their gizzards ; Of the College Museum became the curator. And of natural science, a learned revelator. Perhaps, of the transits you sought to be certain, And as each night uprolled its magnificent curtain, * Prize speakers at Williams are called "Moonlights." MEMORIES. 165 You swung that huge opera-glass on its bars, Tow'rd the orbs overhead for theatrical stars. Perhaps, of companions right jocund and boon, You thought more than you did of the man in the moon; And while your old chum was intently star-gazing, Perhaps — maybe not — but perhaps, you were " haz- Perhaps you loved ease, and were wont to invoke Your quiet day-dreams 'mid the incense of smoke ; While, according as fancies grew brighter or duller. So glowed the pet meerschaum ; — pray, how did it color ? Perhaps with all book-lore your mind was imbued, Excepting the text-books ; and those you eschewed. So, despite all the treasures you tried to amass. You reigned without peer at the foot of the class ! But the muse must forbear ; though each actor and scene Might be colored afresh in her patent machine ; She remembers her mission ; 'tis but to suggest. While your fancies, thus quickened, accomplish the rest. 166 POEMS. Then, once more, ye classic scenes, hail and fare- well ! Around ye for aye shall our memories dwell ; Nor shall absence nor distance their potency prove, For these time-honored places to 'minish our love. And lingering now, with these pictures before me, "Warm, filial emotions steal pleasantly o'er me , And I seem in glad vision to recognize one,^ Whom to know, was to yield him the heart of a son. O, smooth be the seas and auspicious the gales, That shall bear up the ship and enliven the sails ; And again, home-returned from Europa's far shore, To these scenes and high duties, his presence restore ! And long be the seasons, while yet in his might. He shall live to do battle for truth and the right ; Till at last, with the great souls departed, at rest. Thou shalt take him, dear Father, to homes of the blest! Of tender memories, fain the muse, As pensively the past she views. From out her store of fragrant fancies, A wreath — a delicate wreath, Avould choose. * President Hopkins, then absent in Europe. MEMORIES. 167 Bomantic memories ; say, proud sir, Was aught so sweet of joys that were, ] As troth to thee by fair one plighted, 1 And thine, right loyally pledged to her ? ' How bhssful were the moments spent i At eve, to loving converse lent. Beneath the stars, whose roguish twinkle j Lumined the gorgeous firmament. ■ Perchance beneath the trysting tree. j Perchance beside the sobbing sea. Perchance where all the valley echoes The rivulet's laughter, wild and free ; ' Perchance in bower, perchance in grove, j In cloistered court or dim alcove ; ^ O, ever somewhere, somehow ever ■ Gushes the tremulous syllable — Love ! ' I wot she was a maiden fair, | Her bonny face was free from care. How most angehc seemed each feature, — How like a halo her wreathed hair ! And eyes of brown or azure hue J Bespoke a nature fond and true ; ; A heart that should, with glad endeavor, j Battle the ills of life with you. 168 POEMS. How oft you mused with hands enclasped. Conversed of present joys, and past, And hopefully, through all the future, Happy, adventurous vision cast. The numerous years, perchance, have flown, Since first you caught the thrilling tone. From maiden lips so softly faltered, Yielding a heart that was all your own. The lips have lost their ruby now. That erst pronounced the hallowed vow ; And time has since, with ruthless finger Written his autograph on that brow. Perchance — more sad — that form hath found Its last repose low in the ground ; And Death, remorseless, holds your treasure Hidden beneath a grassy mound. And sometimes, as you chance to trace, In childhood's all-unconscious face, Some hkeness of that fond companion, Summoned from thine to Christ's embrace ; Fain from itself the soul would flee ; For of God's rare gifts to such as we, I almost seem to hear you sighiag, *' Saddest of all is Memory ! " MEMORIES. 169 Of patriot memories in this trying hour, When bold-faced treason dares assert its power ; When faithless sons, with sacrilegious guilt, Assail the structure which their fathers built, The muse might sing, if need were, to instil In hearts like these a nobler zeal and will. What glorious memories ! how they cluster round Each towering shaft and olden battle-ground. What golden letters upon history's page Immortalize the hero and the sage. Who saved our country from oppression's load, And made her Freedom's favorite abode ! What memories hover o'er that ensign proud. Whose stripes and stars above the battle cloud, In Freedom's dawn, and high-advancing day, In glory shone, to glory led the way ! Beneath that banner, how, with lapse of time. Our land hath gained a prestige more sublime Than in historic annals can be told Of all the empires and the states of old. Happy Columbia ! with thy memories crowned. Though traitors lurk, and envious foes surround, Yet who that builds thee in his heart a shrine, But feels — aye, knows — the victory shall be thine ! Those very memories shall thy helmet be, Thy sword, thy shield, thy scathless panoply. 170 POEMS. Hapless tlie foe, confronts such shining mail ! His arm must wither, and his courage fail. Said I, " his courage ? " — 'tis that desperate kind, "Which goes by stealth, and, trembling, looks be- hind. It is such courage as would fell to earth The very form of her who gave him birth. It is such courage as would pierce the breast, On which in infancy his face was pressed. Or level prostrate with insensate clods. His fireside altars and his household gods. Oh ! sure as truth, and truth's eternal laws, We hail the issue of so righteous cause, And see before, as with prophetic eye. The grand result— the glorious victory. And that great victory ; would that it might come By war unheralded, or roll of drum. Nay ; better, happier, nobler might it be. As from her tripod hints the Muse to me. In the fullness of time I behold in my vision How a people betrayed shall yet utter their cry ; How the South, their false leaders shall set in derision, And pronounce their pet dogma an infamous lie. MEMORIES, 171 Then again, I foresee, how from fertile savannah, And happy plantation, with grateful accord. All voices shall swell the resounding hosanna — Hail, blessed re-union ; praise, praise to the Lord ! Then with hearts not more brave than magnani- mous ever, The sons of the North, with a brotherly grasp, And a welcome embrace that no traitor shall sever. The sons of the South shall right joyfully clasp. Then Memory, her mystical chords shall re-waken, And penitent children shall weep to behold How precious the boon they had almost forsaken, How priceless the birthright they almost had sold ! Thou God of our fathers ! O hasten the season. When once again Memory her incense shall burn On altars now dim, and when calm-visaged Reason, To the throne she deserted, shall once more return. Then as ever, Columbia, advancing in glory. Of the faith in this trial her children possessed, To unborn generations shall transmit the story, "Who shall rise up to call us — their forefathers — blest! 172 POEMS. Of grand old memories, such as live sublime In olden history, or in classic rhyme ; Of legend memories, haply passed along In dim tradition, or unlettered song ; Of local memories, we have cherished well In curious tales we heard our grandams tell — Of ghost and spectre — dusky squaw and chief, — Tales wonder-fraught and staggering belief ; Of social memories, gratefully restored In rare re-unions round the festive board ; — Of each and aU, the Muse would gladly sing. But Time speeds onward with resistless wing ; — So I must cease ; and now to you, dear friends. The grateful Muse, the parting hand extends. Your warm assurance, overcame her fear ; Your partial kindness introduced her here ; What thoughts and feehngs she hath well expressed Eemember kindly, and forgive the rest. S. B. S. A POEM. 173 POEM DELIVEKED BEFORE I. 0. O. F., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL., 1863. Why man tlirougli mourning must his joys enliance; His reason vaunting, yet commit to chance ; "Why Hope paints pictures for minds immature "Which manly learnings change not, but obscure, — In fainter Hght leaves youth's ideals to men. To mock what now is, with what might have been ; Why men despise the thing, revere the form ; In sunshine cowards, heroes in the storm, — Self-torturing, with a vague, fictitious harm. While hfe's broad sea is mirrored in a calm. Rising with strength from morbid fancy's threat, As serious dangers compass and beset ; Why words by moral costumers are made Dark dominos in life's grand masquerade, — Not all concealing, yet a full disguise ; Why single names form constant compromise 'Twixt good and evil, simple truth and lies : " Prudent,'' the misers' favorite maxim-cry. By which the world commends them when they die, — WhHst "Generous," "Noble," "Liberal" and "Just" Are terms the poor pass to the rich, on trust, — 174 POEMS. With " Enterprise," tlie letter-shield of lust, And " Charity," incarnate in a crust ! Why sweet content deserts the Monarch's throne, And claims the peasant's cottage as her own ; Why harmony of thought is frequent found Amid the discords of contentious sound ; Wliy calms, proverbial, coming storms presage, And are but omens of a day of rage, — At present peace foreshadowing a curse Which Envies in the deeps of stillness nurse ; Why Sciences pretentiously exact, Place " new discoveries " on the roll of fact, Which soon their venerated being give. That one, firm, honest, steadfast Truth may live, — Since, brought in contact, they themselves conflict, And point in focus what they contradict ; Why great inventions follow in the wake. And often seem the creatures of mistake ; Why rehshed sin adopts the mode and time Sought or selected by compunctious crime ; Why sin's last patent notches the degree At which the average moral stand must be ; Why failure in the marts of trade is less A synonym for ruin than success ; Why he who seeks peremptory relief Upon the highway may be 'held a thief, A POEM. 175 Whilst he who plunders from the public vaults Is merely weak, and amiable in faults ; Why the sage public o'er a fancy frets While Christian churches dance away their debts ; Why creedless wits, who flatulently sneer At every dogma which the mass revere, Attain to fame upon the false pretense Of doing honor to man's common sense ! — These daily mysteries in the mighty plan That shapes the growth and discipHne of man ; These lighter, modern marvels, which, perchance, Are sample offspaing of strange circumstance ; These contrasts, inconsistencies and frauds Hypocrisy induces, or applauds, Contribute in a ratio and concert To fashion e\il we may not avert ; Produce conditions in our social state Philosophies explain not, nor abate ; Uncertain render temporal needs and gains, Debauch our comfort and increase our pains ; Confusion cast where purposes are just. And cripple courage with a hard distrust ; The private and the public prospects shroud With almost an impenetrable cloud, — The veil which hides the future from our sight Prefix with gloom and deepen into night ; — 176 POEMS. Add to the blindness nature's laws decree A sad misgiving that the worst will be. A Faith divine may raise the mind serene Above the trials of this earthly scene ; A heavenly Hope may bring the soul repose Amid the sternest of our mortal woes, And build a patience that will bravely bear The ills of time, the promptings of despair. Yet learn we not from that same gracious Book Within whose pages saints devoutly look To find this glorious Faith and Hope revealed ; The corner-stone of Promise has been sealed With this inscription, — With the race began The Universal Bkotheehood of Man ! At once to aid the spirit in its strife For noblest elements in human life, And all the energies of soul incite To study and exemplify the Eight ; With righteous thought a worthy practice suit, Confirm and nurture honest faith with fruit ; Interpret into acts, enlarge the scope And purify the properties of hope ; An actual beneficence educe By schools of principles explained through use ; A POEM. 177 In systematic effort teach and prove The base and product of a cathoHc love ; Eemind the aged, educate the youth As to the beauty and the power of truth ; — With these grand objects, those who seek will find Odd-Fellowship in wisdom was designed. With no less purpose did our fathers build This sacred Order ; — in whose terms fulfilled, Themselves and then- true children have been blest ; — Their memor}^, immortal, stands confest, Well w^orthy of the reverence we pay In every ceremonial act to-day. Our honored Fathers ! let no one presume To think by words he can their names illume. What of their fitting eulogy we claim Has not been written in the Order's fame. 'Twould be unseemly to attempt to write, — 'Tis blazoned elsewhere, in the realms of light. In chapters which no earthty eye can trace. Their -work, unwritten here, has glorious place : A work obedient to the Order's laws, Or instigated in its noble cause ; A w^ork of Friendship, so divinely odd, Its record the prerogative of God ! 178 POEMS. A work which, in the harvest hour of time Shall be proclaimed in sweet, celestial rhyme ! We boast of Progress, and we vastly prize The culture of the arts that civilize. We pride ourselves that we were haply born Where science strides and literatures adorn. Material Greatness is the pubHc theme : The popular motives are condensed in steam. Each fresh advancement in mechanic skill Inflames conceit and magnifies the will. Once fairly harnessed, genius can prepare New uses for the elements in air — Not OS of old the marriage rites perform, But with the tokens and the bolts of storm ; Wing Cupid's arrows with electric fires, — - To Hymen's service consecrate the wires ; The bands the Grecians thought fau' Yenus wove, Snatch from her fingers and commit to Jove ; And, for the tariff which the law allows. Transmit and register connubial vows ; Audacious 'gainst the ancient saying's force : Wliom Lightnings marrj^, Thunders will divorce I We boast of Wealth ! The privilege to amass Enjoyed exclusive by no favored class. A POEM. 179 E-iches increasing at enormous rate, And swiftly swelling such an aggregate That, within reason, it must surely seem To far outstrip the miser's wildest dream. We know, of late, the precious ores are found In such profusion as affords no ground For accurate reckoning of prospective yield ; But, from the recent opulence revealed, E'en the imaginative broker lords Fail singly guessing what theii' tunnel hoards, — The sum, so fab'lous, to approximate With giant digits — must incorporate ! We boast of multiplying paths of trade. On which with speed large revenues are made ; Paths so direct, so very smooth and wide, The poor to fortune regularly ride ; — Since any knave may pelt his dupe with rocks, Then thrust his swollen feet in public stocks. We boast the glory of our common schools ; With great " improvements " made by modern rules. Where the stout implements which were in vogue As fit correctives for a truant rogue, — To spur the slothful, break the stubborn will, And measured lessons thoroughly instill, — 130 POEMS. Have been converted in their uses here T' instructive " objects," from dire things of fear ! i The lash or rod, which once was thought, for- i sooth, A natiu'al stimulant for the sluggish 3'outh, — When well applied, most potent to obtain The greatest product from each pupil's brain, — Is now employed by every teaching Miss, ; As in the new Mnemonic synthesis, Hinting not only what its source must be, ] But every purpose of the ox or tree. :) Not to the physical emotions bring, j^ On sight, suggestions of a mortal sting, i But sage suggestions, — which may grow apace All planetary " objects " to embrace ! "I We boast a cheap, efficient, speedy mode ^ Of granting justice through a civil code : \ Whose terms provide that suitors, who may feel Aggrieved at first decisions, can appeal .) To grand tribunals, where each concrete case , Is aptly furnished with an abstract face ; ^ Wliere facts are " features," and the counsel's whims Concerning cognate issues are the "limbs." ] Where lawyers — like experienced miners — fight ' For claims which merely have the color, Right, A POEM. 181 "V^Tiere skillful logic is employed to show The various errors of the court below ; And history, like a criminal arraigned To show the reason why they are — sustained. Or the emergencies of present hours Are plead to prove discretionary powers. But where by judgments we are not beguiled, — Unless they are through inadvertence filed. Cheap is the mode ! 'Twas Solomon's advice : My son, get wisdom at whatever price. Efficient ! Since it thoroughly conveys Essential knowledge in eccentric ways, — Aiding the mind by each peculiar turn To hold the lesson it deserved to learn. And speedy ! When the value and amount Of wisdom gained is taken in account. We boast a penal code ; which seems to shed Abundant mercy on the felon's head. His prison roofed by statutory laws With open sky-lights of ingenious flaws ; His dungeon door barred gently, on a catch, Till " justice " nimbly lifts the legal lache ! With conscious pity are our minds imbued For those who lived when social laws were crude. When needs were simple, when the arts were rude. 182 P0EM8. 'Twere stupid Folly's part to deprecate Outspoken pride at our advancing state, In all that make convenience, comfort, ease, Save time and labor, or tlie senses please. A healthy sentiment of pride is part Of all appreciative sense of Art ; And great discoveries in themselves denote To-day's advantage which they must promote, — CompeUing us with flattery to contrast The present progress with the ignorant past. Our education, and a force inborn, Tempt us to see primeval times with scorn ; And with an ever ready reverence bow Before the genius of Imperial Now ! Thus do we fail to keep in prudent mind, Favors and burdens are alike assigned ; Thus do we fail to practically own, With social progress social cares have grown ; Ignore, or — equally at fault — forget. As our advantage, so our civil debt ; As the complexities of life increase, So must man's labor for the public peace. Our Fathers, with a present and a prescient view. Which history clearly outlined and which reason drew. I I A POEM. 133 Felt and forecast necessities of deepening weight For some grand system that should serve to miti- gate The individual penalties of common sin, And Knk our neighbors in the ties and bonds of kin. — For in their skillful, moral plan, they recognize Anarchial dangers from mere, sordid enterprise. — The holy impulse which their hearts and con- science fired, Seems to have almost made their beauteous work inspired ; And following history, thro' a lengthened lapse of time, Has crowned their efforts as successful and sublime ! Then, brothers ! let us votive offerings bring, While manual outHnes we attempt to sing ; — Now, while we celebrate a natal morn, And larger Opportunities are born ; Now, when our banner proudly is unfurled. And we avow our precepts to the world. Come, Stranger ! ere ye seek a closer name. Lend audience to the doctrines we proclaim : How do we learn our life ? how read the page. As Time's hard finger quickly throws it o'er ? 184: POEMS. With what reflections do we grow in age, And near the sands of th' inevitable shore ? Full soon we find that Heaven has well decreed To every man his own peculiar fate : With following hours contrasting thought and deed ; With years all barren, and with moments great. Full soon we learn a law of equal birth. To which, without incongruous act, we give A holier homage in the scenes of earth : Unto himself no man can truly live. A thousand times the precious truth we hear ; Still from our practice it remains concealed ; Till blessed sorrow makes our wants appear, And all adapted uses are revealed. The general lessons gathered 'mid the din Of worldly conflict, triumph or defeat. Provoke the " Delphic Oracle within," To call the mind to Fellowship's Retreat. Not to the hut of hermit or recluse. Where misanthropic sentiments are nursed ; Not to retirements where the mean excuse For selfish ease is Avarice's sated ihirst : A POEM. 185 ; But to the cloistered company of those Whose purpose is to thoroughly equip ' Good soldiers for the battles 'gainst life's woes, — That test the champions of Odd-Fellowship. { Here, man is separated from the world ; i No longer burdened with fictitious cares ; j No more within Dissension's eddies whirled ; i No longer threatened by Ambition's snares. Here, Yice no more is potent to allure ; \ Here, Hates and Envies can no more alarm ; j Here, every object, motive, work is pure, i And Virtue's signet is the regal charm ! Here, Love and Friendship hold the sovereign \ sway,— Their mild dominion gloriously assert : Thy promise all their precepts to obey i Insures the benediction they concert. Here, Faith and Charity combine to bless \ The weary mind with heavenly balm of Peace ; Assuage with sympathy the heart's distress, — ■ For sorest trouble give or point release. ] Should any round this sacred altar bow \ Who will not cherish what they here declare ; '\ X36 POEMS. Who will not follow the initiate's vow With earnest hopes in resolution's prayer ; Presumptuous Mortal ! Wouldst thou dare approach Where on the recreant falls a fearful ban ? Canst thou a talismanic secret keep ? — Then show the fortitude becomes a man ! Alas for man ! In darkness and in chains, In moral blindness and by passions bound : A mournful spectacle where folly reigns, And wisdom's voice is an unheeded sound. There is a time most fitting to confess — Wlien stern ordeal of trial is at hand — The grievous errors which the mind oppress, And give to conscience sceptres of command. O ! sad remembrances of wrong, awake ! Now is the hour, repenting, to reveal The sins which by their recollection break From retrospect the dark, funereal seal. If ever thou hast mean advantage gained ; O'er-reached thy fellow with a plann'd deceit, — His honor blasted while in friendship feigned, His fortune ruined by a studied cheat ; A POEM. 187 If thou hast robbed the widow's house, and made Long prayers in pubHc an availing cloak Against that knowledge thou wer't well afraid Would just and quick retributive provoke ; If thou hast caused the orphan's tears to flow, Hast sought his golden portion to purloin ; And then, a savoring charity to show. Heaped shallow saucers with the smallest coin ; O ! answer truly, — at thy soul's expense ! Confess, if guilty, and at once retire : For else than innocent of grave offence Thou mayst not bide the dreadful track of fire ! Life's painful end life's duties best can teach. Emblems of mortal strugghng and of death The heart not lost to human hope must reach, And touch the conscience with compunctious breath. He who is fit and able to endure The early discipline of bonds and night, Deseiwes for recompensing to procure The fullest liberty and clearest light. In this true Light may Brothers ever walk ; This Liberty without abuse enjoy. 188 POEMS. May no false signals tempt tliem but to mock. No sensual cliarms solicit and destroy. Hail ! master workmen, wlio to-day unite In services of dedicating power. In ample form conduct tlie solemn rite, ''■ And consecrate tlie building and the hour. May the grand invocations which ye raise The gracious favor of our God obtain ; And may your choral symphonies of praise Ascend to Heaven in an accepted strain. From out the bustle of the crowded street, From out the tumult of the business mart. May yonder house be our beloved retreat, — The home we cherish with the mind and heart. Within its walls may harmony abound ; May Honor's court be firm established there ; May royal truth be there enthroned and croAvned, And glorious visions for her sons prepare ! O ! may our brethren be exceeding glad Before the shrine erected there to wait ; — In regal vestitures of scarlet clad, Hejoice to stand within our temple's gate I A POEM, 139 Brotlier, Grand Herald of the North ! Pro- claim A consecration in pure FKiENDSHrp's name ; And, sprinkling water, dedicate this place To constant practice in that heavenly grace. Brother, Grand Herald of the South ! Approve This work, — a Temple of enduring Love ; — And typify our kindled hearts' desu'es With brilliant lightings of the altar fii-es. Brother, Grand Herald of the East ! Declare : Here Truth's good seed shall fall, and spring and bear An hundredfold, — to widely save and bless, And wreathe with honor in a risht success. "O' Brother, Grand Herald of the West ! Foretell : Faith, Hope, and Charity alike shall dwell Within these consecrated scenes of ours ; And fill the common air AVith fragrant incense, as the scattered flowers Breathe perfumes everywhere. And Brothers all ! Unite in earnest prayer That this grand work may have a heavenly care : 190 POEMS. That with the Father's blessing, this good Order may increase, — "Whose ways are ways of pleasantness, and all whose paths are Peace." C. A. S. LINES. 19X LINES, MASONIC BRETHREN, IN CELEBRATION OF HIS MARRIAGE. Our worthy Senior Deacon, boys, lias had a fit come o'er him, — As many a worthy fellow has, who's gone this way before him : In short, he's joined another lodge, with obhgations new, Whose secrets can be given in the presence of but two. I know you'll think it mighty strange that such a tender passion Should overcome so stout a heart in such a won- drous fashion ; You'll think the deuce is in it, when you find that aught can weaken The stoical proclivities of this our Senior Deacon. Just lend your ears, then, for a "jiff," and listen while your " Master " Kelates the actual history of this singular disaster : 192 POEMS. How Parley came to parley with the lass that's now his bride : How Molly plied her arts until the youth was molli- fied. 'Twas on a pleasant Sabbath eve — it seems to linger yet, With balmy odors, soft as when that lo\dDg couple met ; — The world was mostly gone to rest ; the " witching hour " drew nigh ; And still this pair were strolling forth beneath the starry sky. Our brother, for a deacon, seemed in quite hilarious mood. No doubt the learned discourse that day had done him "heaps " of good. "Love one another," was the text the parson had selected ; Its queer effects the reverend man could hardly have expected ! " You are a Mason, I presume ? " — began the curious Molly ;— " I hardly thought you'd ever stoop to such a piece of folly ; LINES. 193 But, since you've gone and done this thing, I'll tell you what I'll do : I'll e'en propose to have you make of me a Mason too!" " Well, really !" said our startled friend ; " if now, upon your word, You make this proposition of your fi-ee will and ac- cord ; And if you'll keep the secret from the ears of all cre- ation, I'll e'en proceed this very hour to your initiation." He clasped her hand within his own ; he drew her fondly to him ; His heart began to palpitate ; a rapturous thrill went tlirough him ; And from their Hps, as stood the pair upon the grassy lawn, There came a sound — as if a cork were being slowly drawn. This most delightful ceremony thrice repeated there, Gave out its tell-tale whisper on the circumambient air; 194 POEMS. Then spake the Senior Deaconj beneath the trysting tree, In accents low and tender : " Molly, that's the first I rather think she liked it ; at any rate she said She didn't see so very much in Masonry to dread ; And if he'd only promise her to be a faithful brother. She'd pass on from the first degree, and imdertake another. I saw it not, but I suspect that if the truth were known, 'Twas on the second step that most the fellow's craft was shown ; 'Tis said he gave her lectures on the Hberal arts and sciences, Beheving the monotony by Cupid's soft apphances. And, finally, it came to pass, in proper course of time. That he conferred, and she received, the third de- gree sublime. It was a famous wedding, and we all beheld with pride. How Molly was transfigured from a maiden to a bride. LINES. 195 There, brothers, that's the story ; the Deacon's still our own; Still stands within our circle, but no longer stands alone ; For the pledge that we have taken, and shaU cher- ish during life. Now protects beneath its aegis yet another Mason's wife. Then here's a cordial health we drink to Parley and to Molly : May all their days be free from grief and sombre melancholy ; TiU that Celestial Lodge above shaU ope its golden portals. To welcome them, both bride and groom, among the blest immortals. S. B. S. 196 POEMS. LINES, READ AT A DINNER GIYEN BY DR. C. T. COLLINS TO THE BERKSHIRE MEDICAL SOCIETY, AT INDIOLA PLACE, GREAT BARRINGTON, MASS., JULY 30, 1862. That Collins is the nurse for me ; he gets one's diag- nosis. And then prescribes his medicines in allopathic doses. In fact, so great his faculty for treating lung and limb. The very Faculty itself is " treated " now by him. I met the Doctor on the street ; he grasped me by the hand ; He looked me over, felt my pulse, then spoke in ac- cents bland : — " How are you, friend ?" but, strange to tell, he ab- solutely laughed To learn that I'd been ailing since — they talked about a draft ! " Well," said the Doctor, " your complaint is dread- fully contagious : I find the neighborhood is full of men who talk courageous ; LINES. 197 Their tongues are loud enough to make you prick your ears in wonder, But there's some kink about their legs to make them run like thunder ! But this is neither here nor there ; the war is quite exciting ; But my affair, as you shall see, is vastly more invit- ing. The Berkshire Doctors, one and all, from valley, hill and heather — I'm going io have them, Wednesday week, around my board together. Of flesh and fowl I mean to have a bountiful selec- tion. And let these chaps just try their hands at post mor- tem dissection. I'll show our folks a clever trick, and let the people see How, under certain circumstances, doctors can agree. And then, to give the dinner some celebrity, you know, I want the village parsons, and the lawyers, in a row. 198 POEMS. The three professions all combined afford a thorough teaching — You see, ours do the practicing ; the clergy do the preaching. Our neighboring men of letters, and a few " F. F. G. B's "— I shall surely lay some covers, and reserve some seats for these ; And chaps whose wives, like yours and mine, have rather wholesome faces, Must give their spouses, as of right, the most con- spicuous places. I shall prescribe a dose all round, adapted to re- vealing * The warm, champagny, old-particular, brandy-pun- chy feeling ;' And when the heavy masticating processes are done, We'll have a little flow of soul, and sentiment, and fun. There's Duncan, way from Williamstown — ^you knew him when in college, — His head's a perfect reservoir of sparkling wit and knowledge ; LINES. 199 And there's the veteran Doctor Childs — God bless him ! he enjoys, At four-score years, to hold his youth, and be one of the boys ! ^ -x- * * * * I'll have these fellows trotted out, and make them show their paces, And put them through an exercise of intellectual races ; And those who hold allegiance to some other learn- ed vocation, May add their tribute to the flow of mutual admira- tion. And as for you, pray bring along your little play- ful muse. And let her dance a lively jig in lightly-stepping shoes. Don't let her fear the wise old heads with whom she comes to mingle ; — I'll warrant she can fool them all with her delusive jmgle." I tried to have myseK excused, and all that sort of thing — The same as nice young ladies do when importuned to sing ; — 200 POEMS. But " No, you simply must," was all the Doctor had to say ; Then left me in a mute surprise, and went his home- ward way. And so I come ; and just to take some vengeance on my friend, I tell you the whole story, from beginning unto end. You now perceive precisely, what the Doctor was about — His notion was — to call us in, and then, to call us out. But, notwithstanding, since we're here, and feeling somewhat mellow, "We may as well own up at once that he's a first rate fellow. He plies his arduous calling with a wondrous skill and vigor. And keeps a big estabhshment, but keeps a heart that's bigger. And once or twice in every year, as sure as the re- turning Of planets through their giddy paths, the festal lamps are burning LIKES, 201 Around the Doctor's board ; and not to be of those who go there, To use a vulgar idiom, is simply " to be nowhere." A health, then, to the Doctor ! may genial skies be o'er him, And troops of friends around him, and pleasing hopes before him ; " May his heart preserve its freshness, and the light of life's young day, With softened, radiant glory shine upon his evening way." In freedom, peace and plenty, may it be his to dwell j May he have hosts of patients, and may they all get well ; And of that favor'd number, may all here present be ; And when he does this thing again, may we be here to see. S. B. S. 202 POEMS. WOEDS. LINES READ BEFORE THE SACRAMENTO LIBRARY ASSO- CIATION, FEBRUARY 3, 1860. Necessity, that stems all law And brooks of no delay, Engulphed the gentle friend I saw One week ago to-day. His modest way, his honest smile, His 'customed accents bland. Had given place to stoutest style Of summons and command. It was the old, old tale of woe. Since Lyceum Leagues began ; That will not tolerate a " No ", 'Gainst that committee-man. "When bureau stars beguile, betray. And leave in wretched plight. Who else must save from blank dismay But some domestic wight ? His prose may lack Athenian grace ; His rhymes may be " the worst ;" WORDS. 203 Nor mother wit nor wisdom's trace, In either product nursed ; A youth, perchance, who early met His all-sufficient test ; And only asks they may forget Who heard him at his best ! Well known for all he is and ain't, — For all he can't and can ; He is a lecturer, poet, saint, To that committee-man. Such was the basis of salute And orders to attend. Which brought me here without dispute, — Obedient to my friend. In choosing a topic, why need I be driven ? The goddess of rhyming was specially shriven. First principles always supply the best plan, — My groundwork, all-spanning, is primitive man. So, out from your Eden, old Adam of kin ! Before you e'er fell in the pitfalls of sin ; 204: POEMS. While faith in your heart — then the fountain of truth, Endowed thee unselfish, immortal in youth. Before having learned o'er foul flesh-pots to gloat. The core of your system was fixed in your throat. Tour palate delighting in nuts and herbs raw. And your bones benedictive of pallets of straw. Thy paradise dwelling and service should teach Begianing, and object, and evils of speech. For every living animal was set a certain voice, In different tones and emphasis of which they could rejoice. Distinctive as their outward forms was each one's range of sound ; The treble and the screech on wings, the roar upon the ground. And these beyond the mere physique declared the race and kind ; Fixed key-notes for each temper, from the panther to the hind ; — For each, by laws of harmony phrenology em- ploys. Expressed in fullest narrative their natures in their noise. WORDS. 205 But wliat was his peculiar voice who ruled above tho beast; Who walked amid perennial fruits, sole monarch of the feast ? What single tone could indicate his majesty and might ; Assert at once his scope of will, his purpose for the right ? Not all the various instinct sounds which from the herd ascend, Not all the sweetest songsters' notes that did en- chanting blend. Could form a language for the man : — a mirror to disclose A record for the earnest thoughts that in his roam- ings rose. The first commission given to man, in which his speech was made, — The last self -gift of Him who spake, and all things else obeyed. Was when the creeping things of earth in trains be- fore him came. And what man chose to check them off, to each one was the name ; Which natural history catalogue proved Adam not a mute : 206 POEMS, As tickled to articulate, his voice iDvoiced the brute. But tho' the earth bore fruits and flowers, regardless of expense, Yet was no help-meet found for man within the garden fence. One night he slept a deeper sleep than he had ever known, And when he woke, and conscious breathed, he miss- ed a bosom bone. While pondering on this sudden loss, resolved a cause to draw For this exsection of a rib, his Arab wife he saw! Then as man slept and woke betimes, we must, per- force, believe, 'Twas early on a cloudless morn when Adam first knew Eve ! Speechless he stood ! and when for words, new-syl- labled, he strove, He learned himself spell-bound, enrapt, o'erwhelmed in mastering love ! Through his suspense at last he broke, — exclaimed in lordly tone : — " O, woman ! we are flesh of flesh and bone of very bone ! " WORDS, 207 Thus did the man the woman call ; their union thus decide ; And with these words unbridled he the sweet tongue of his bride ! Which, from the day it was unloosed, has never ceased to go — With words of kindness and content ; but very rarely slow. Indeed, it seems as tho' it was implanted in her heart. Not to forget — if e'er forgive — that Adam had the start ! Such was Eve's fancy to converse for conversation's sake, That when her spouse was tired of talk she gossiped with a snake ; — Whose sinuous counsel caused her fall, and brought a common woe On all her offspring, who persist in sianuig here be- low. * * * * 6* * It came to pass the sons of Noah were traveling to the west ;— They cried : " Go to ! come let us build a tower and city, lest 208 POEMS. We should be scattered all abroad, upon the plan- et's face, . Instead of bound in unity of residence and race ; And let the tower's top ascend, a monument of fame, Which, to all coming sons of men, our craft'ness shall proclaim. Aye, let the apex of the tower to Heaven in glory reach : For can we not make well-burnt brick, and have we not one speech?" But lo ! go to ! the sons of men are suddenly dis- persed ; For their rash plan, with languages a thousand times accurst. What awful force was manifest in words of close intent. When persons parted as they called adobe for cement ! Amazed, confused, enraged, they sloped, — each fam- ily alone ; And on their toil in Sliinar's land the sun no longer shone. ****** Now, with a leap across the years — with your kind approbation — We leave the scattered ancient tribes for our folks' Yankee nation. W0BD8, 209 No matter what has passed between, we have this sure conclusion : — And those who litigate the point remain in weak delusion : — Words are our staple, and produced in wonderful profusion. In pulpit and upon the stump, in market and in fo- rum, — Wherever two or three may chance to make a busi- ness quorum, — There you will find some smart pretense, for wealth or honor seeking ; And, nine in ten, his capital exhausts itself in speaking. The wordy man ! I know him well, and I have known him long — Proportioned to his lack of brain, his lungs are large and strong. The wordy man ! I know him well ; his temper and his fashion ; His drawling trick for wisdom's calm, his simulated passion. For, shine or storm, 'tis all the same ; his plethoric condition Eesponds with hopper evenness to every feed peti- tion. 210 POEMS. His logic rests on simple stress of cop'lative con- \ junction ; O'er sense of tense lie rides rough-sliod, with rhap- j sodizing miction. ! Some simple man, reputed well about his native vil- i lage, \ "Where he has gained a competence in store-trade or in tillage, . Has nursed the thought for many a year, in honest \ meditation, That he was born for eminence in councils of the | nation. In farmers' clubs and miners' leagues he leaks his \ " proud ambition ;" j Suggests what Congressmen should do, on such and \ such condition. — \ Premises or concludes with hints about a vain ob- I lation \ Of sohd truth, when feeble minds control our dele- gation ! His hour at last ! The neighbors say : " John Smith's | an honest nature — i Let's send him down to 'represent ' in this year's ! legislature." WORDS, 211 "Agreed," say all; agreement is in caucus forms perfected ; And in due course John Smith is hailed " Assem- blyman elected." Now squarely on the road to fame, he must assume a standing, In manners and in dress, ahke respectful and com- manding. For weeks before the session time, that nothing may be lacking. His new boiled shirts and broadcloth coat are placed in careful packing. Once at the capital, he feels his genius hugely swell- And what may be his final post there's no prophetic telling ! Now, all his energies are taxed, his brain is overladen With matter from the choice of which to pick phil- lipics, maiden. Lo ! now this legislator shouts, 'mid wild expectoration ; His eye dilates, his breast upheaves with dreadful respiration. The hall is close with crowding sounds, with words is atmospheric ; — He gains his climax with a shriek that borders on hysteric. 212 POEMS. He ends ! and ends his public life — for, with the term expiring, He finds his " painful duty " is to beat a sad retiring. His age consoles : his efforts were abortive from their lateness ! And so he bids a "long farewell " to poHtics and greatness. The man of words ! I know him well ; his every form and feature Present to me, in simple guise, a most famihar crea- ture. While prominent upon th^ Hst — by general conces- sion — The actual act of public talk is not in his profession. In short — for short is his address — his business is the writing Of speeches in the proper shape from very poor in- diting. He takes a threadbare piece of cloth ; re- weaves it, clean and shining — Ah ! mysteries and miseries of his acute refining ! "Who knows of his alchemic toil ? who thanks him for his study O'er crucibles of ugly signs ; — expressions rank and muddy ? WORDS. 213 Evolving from a jumbled mass some thoughts of useful meaning ; From loads of innutritions chafE^ some wheaten ker- nels gleaning. Is gratitude for such a work, from wordy men expected? Where toughest skill is exercised, least debt is recol- lected. I've seen unnumbered Solons gloat, in halls of legis- lation, Because the text constituents quote enhanced their reputation ; — Until theu' fame collapsed in shame, from one good, square translation ! Words for the million ! Who will get a patent right for pumping The greatest number in the space allowed for party stumping ? Where Korman French derivaties, promiscuous and excessive, Are used to stilt a tedious talk, and render it " im- pressive." Where truth is not so much ignored as set in cool defiance ; Where often on the naked howl is placed a cheered rehance. 214 POEMS. Where men of cultiyated taste descend to black- guard diction ; Where convict scoundrels patronize their patriots' conviction ! Words for the thousands ! Simpering dames who resolutely tarried, Despite all calls, beyond the time in which they should have married ; And men and women out of sorts in marital condi- tion. Who think their private griefs confer a special for- eign mission. Pry out their neighbors' evil days, and picture trifles glaring ; Knock down the stool of penitence, and set reform despairing ; Destroy the hopes of some fond girl, whose keenest heart affection Was justly placed, — tho' not assumed to be on earth's perfection. And who shall now for cotton bales or gold the paeans sing ? We hail the royal council board : — The man of speech is king ! WOBDS. 215 I speak not now of babbling fools, — of those who throw away Their own and other people's time in hngual display. I speak of such as Henry was, — of Webster and of Clay. I look to him, the eloquent, inspired New England son. Whose words have saved the home and tomb of Father Washington ! Words foi the hundreds ! Blessed few ; in Honor's house devoted : — Each one determining his choice, — admitted or pro- moted ! Words that the seeds of fire contain for nations now complaining ; Words that when victory is won, disclose the skill maintaining. Words breathing peace, and hope, and faith, through earthly time enduring, — For every hstening soul a hate of morbid thoughts procuring : Their speech we yearn to hear ; for truth gleams radiant in the hearing. And in the trance we grasp the love that casts out pride and fearing. 216 POEMS. But here a thouglit compunctious stays ; and in its candid telling, I make avowal consonant with most congenial spell- ing. Should I permit my rhyming muse to longer test your favor, I might reduce a note of praise to feeble semi-qua- ver. So while there's merit in the act, I'll make a timely ending ; — That when 'tis said, " it was not much," the phrase may be commending. Declaring that a favor found in some such exclama- tion, Will more than double all the capes of her best ex- pectation. C.A.S. EXPERIENCES AFLOAT, 217 EXPEKIENCES AFLOAT. ^^RSES WRITTEN ON BOARD U. S. TRANSPORT, ILLINOIS, OFF FLORIDA COAST, JANUARY, 1863. O GENTLE Muse ! gracious Muse ! Bestow thy smile on me ; While I describe the wondrous sights I see upon the sea. Old Ocean is a heavy swell ; A deep old salt, for that ; You'll find your error, if at first You take him for a flat. No rower can withstand his roar ; For blows he's ever ready ; And whoso keeps his company. Is apt to get unsteady. He brags what flags wave o'er his waves ; He boasts his ships are whalers ; With gales regales us, just to show . How he assails the sailors. Ah me ! I'm six days out from shore ; A cleaned-out, luckless rover ; 218 POEMS. Another six-days cruise ahead ; And so, I'm half-seas-over. I feel so " cabin'd, cribbed, confined," I scarce can draw my breath ; There's no more comfort in my berth, Than if it were my death. I go upon the upper deck They call " the hurricane ; " I spy a seat hard by, I strive With all my might to gain. The passage thither seems up hill ; I'm just a'going to soar ; When lo ! there comes a sudden lurch,- I'm sprawling on the floor ! With stem resolve I seek the stem, The ship's in mad carouse ; The masts as to their master nod. The bow is making bows. The smoke-stack is exceeding sick, It vomits forth a cloud ; A deathly pallor seems to sit On every sail and shroud. EXPERIENCES AFLOAT. 219 I look down in the engine room ; \ The struggle there is fine ; : The old ship's stomach seems disturbed ! Almost as bad as mine. ^ An afterthought conducts me aft, j How very queer I feel ! '• The things go dancing round me so, I My brain begins to reel. ! Then comes the strange sensation on, j The like you never knew ; There's nothing for it, but to run, — Eugh! Eugh!! E-e-u-g-h!!! O grim old Neptune ! once release i Your precious hold on me ; ' And you may play your pranks at will, j I'll never go to see ! ■ S. B. S. 220 I'OEMS, CHAKGE OF THE FOETY-NINTH. [The Forty-ninth Mass. Vols, participated in the attempt to carry by storm the rebel works at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863, losing in killed and wounded more than one-third of the number who went into the action. ] " FoRWABD now the Foety-ninth ! " the General's mandate came ; " Attention, Third Battalion ! " was the Colonel's prompt exclaim : " Now, ye sons of Berkshire, your crowning horn- has come ; Prove your fond fidelity to ancestry and home ! " Straightway from the imdergrowth, our gallant boys upsprang ; Bapid and sonorous the familiar accents rang ; " Eight face ! Lively ! Forward march ! " mean- while, in each e>je Mark the firm resolve that dareth both to do, and die. Through the tangled bushes stealthily we tread. While the shells are shrieking madly overhead ; Now we reach the open ; and, across the plain, See the rebel cannon, spouting leaden rain. CHARGE OF THE FORTY-NINTH 221 " On the right, by file in line ! " — ^rapidly we form : " Forward march ! Guide centre ! " — now the fiery storm With redoubled fury vexes earth and sky, As our glorious banner greets the foeman's eye. Gallantly before us, in the thrilling scene, March the storming party, with musket and fascine ; See ! their steps they hasten ! " Double quick ! " — now then Comes the tug of battle ; 'quit yourselves like men ! Ah, what rebel cunning had prepared the way ! Felled trees, logs and branches in our pathway lay ; Still our flag moves forward ; aye, — and not alone ; For our line of battle bravely holds its own ! God of mercy help us ! Twice the murderous balls Strike our hero Colonel ; ah, he reels ; he falls ! Our Lieutenant-Colonel, " Onward ! Onward ! " cry- ing, In an instant stricken, on the field is lying ! Yet our boys, undaunted, with their might and main Strive to gain the ramparts, but, alas ! in vain. From those fatal ramparts, looming still afar, How the foe, exultant, hurl the bolts of war ! 222 POEMS. Through our ranks, where glittered bayonet and blade, See what deadly havoc shot and shell have made ! Of that proud battalion, — fresh-lipped men aiul brave — Scores now groan in anguish ; some have found a grave ! Strive no longer vainly, now that hope is past ; Let the logs and pit-falls be your shield at last : — Down, then ; down for safety ; ye who still sur- vive ; Thank the God of battles ye are yet alive ! Softly soon the Day-King sinks unto his rest, And the grateful twilight deepens in the west. Hushed the din of battle — now, with footsteps fleet, Weary, saddened soldiers make their swift re- treat. Lo ! what scenes confront them, as they rearward tread ; Her© a comrade wounded ; there a comrade dead ! Friends at home, and kindred ; ah ! what would ye say, Could you see your petted Forty-ninth to-day I CHARGE OF TEE FOBTT-NINTE. 223 This, at least, in future, say with honest pride, — " Berkshire boys right nobly fought, and bled, and died." Ever let their actions be preserved in story, And their names encircled with a wreath of glory. S. B. S. 224 POEMS, lilNES, WRITTEN FOR IMPROMPTU CELEBRATION, JULY 4, 1863, ON BOARD STEAMSHIP CAHAWBA, AT SEA, OFF COAST OF FLORIDA, EN ROUTE HOME FROM NEW ORLEANS. The glorious Fourth has come again ; 'tis ours to hail the day Afar at sea, as o'er the waves our good ship speeds its way ; And while our staunch " Cahawba " floats in majes- ty along, From grateful lips let us uphft our patriotic song. "Well cherished day ; how bright the fires on memo- ry's altar burn, As, each revolving year, we greet its annual re- turn ! Our country ! with what pride we trace her onward, upward way. Since first our grandsires hailed the dawn of Inde- pendence day 1 In conflict born, in faith sustained, baptized in blood and fire, Exposed in tender infancy to Britain's haughty ire ; LINES. 225 still our Columbia lived and thrived, and came at last to be An empire whose dominion stretched from sea across to sea. Beneath her banner, science, art, and each fair en- terprise Thrived, like exhuberant fruits, beneath the most auspicious skies ; Here Justice held her scales aloft, and with benig- nant mien, Kehgion, with her mitred front, o'erlooked the glad- some scene. Upon that banner, earth's oppressed from lands afar have gazed. As on some sign of healing by some modern Moses raised ; And unto it with joyful hope, and with a faith sub- lime. Have flocked a countless multitude, from every shore and clime. Blest, O, how blest ! beneath that flag, we lived, nor thought nor dreamed How much of discord lay concealed, where all so cheerful seemed ; 226 POEMS. Dreamed not there breathed a soul so base, — to human sense so closed, As dare profane the citadel where all our hopes re- posed. But times have changed ; this very scene reminds us that the foe Hath risen in his might to deal the fratricidal blow. The uniforms we wear to-day, and many a well- earned scar. Tell that the nation writhes beneath the crimson foot of war ! But, God be praised, the hour hath shown, that when, in years gone by. Heaven oped its gates to greet our sires, true valor did not die. O, let our faith and hope grow strong, as in our ranks to-day. We recognize the sons of sires, as brave, as true, as they ! And now, as comes the season round, when every bosom glows Afresh with love of country, and with wrath against her foes ; LINES. 227 O, let us at a common slirin© our sacred vows re- ! cord, I The contest never to give o'er, nor sheathe the right- eous sword, Till once again, from Kennebec to distant Rio i Grande, : Our Flag shall spread its ample folds, unchallenged, o'er the land ; i And everywhere, the wide world round, that glori- ] ous Flag shall be \ In very deed, and very truth, the Ensign of the j free ! j S. B. S. ] 228 POEMS. TO JULIA, IN HEAVEN. Sister ! we mourn with ceaseless grief tliy going, Since thou hast left us ; With each recurring day our tears are flowing, More deep the yearnings in our hearts are growing. For that loved presence, whereof — God's bestow- ing— He hath bereft us. Thou wast, but art not here forever more ; — Such thy brief story ; — Thy life was bright and joyous, but 'tis o'er ; Thou hast gone seeking dear ones gone before, And from the slopes of that celestial shore, Hast risen to glory. Say, in those upper mansions, didst thou meet Sister and brothers ? And in the first bright thi-ong that came to greet, And brought thee glad embrace, — swift- winged and fleet, — Was there not that dear face, — serene and sweet — Our sainted mother's ? Oh I I do seem to see new joy in Heaven, As she who bore thee TO JULIA IN HEAVEN. 229 Saw tliy pure soul from earth's frail vesture riven, Safe at the goal towards which it well had striven, And, joyous in this child-companion given. Bent smiling o'er thee ; And to the Father, on His white throne seated. And to the Son, And to the Spirit — God Triune — repeated Glad hymns of praises, nor in vain entreated Welcome to thee, O rapturously greeted, Thy Life-work done ! There, as eternal cycles roll away, Thou art at rest. Around, the everlasting sunbeams play ; Through golden streets, through sweet fields, thou shalt stray. And in yon Heaven shalt spend an endless day Among the blest. Yet e'en from Heaven's ecstatic joys, I know Thou wouldst look down. And gaze in fondness upon friends below, And fain wouldst woo them from this world of woe. And higher joys portray, and fain wouldst show The victor's crown. 230 POEMS. But, oh, how swift the years will wing their flight In thy esteem ! Our life is but a day — soon past — then night Comes, whispering of the morn, or else with bhght ; And all — the old, the beautiful, the bright — Pass like a dream ! And, shortly, all the friends and kindred known On earth to thee. Must cross the stream which thou hast crossed, alone, Must stand in judgment at God's awful throne. And, in its bliss, or terrors, must be shown Eternity ! Spirit departed unto realms above, I pray, look hither ; Watch o'er and guard me with that sister's love, Which erst I know thy tender heart did move ; From God and Heaven permit me not to rove ; But lead me thither ! And, haply. He who lives to intercede At God's right hand. To my poor prayers may graciously give heed ; O'er sins like mine. His wounds afresh may bleed, And I may gain, obedient to His lead. The promised land. TO JULIA IN HEAVEN. 231 Yet not to gain it, when I know what guest Inhabits there ; — What greater torment for the human breast, "What greater woe wherewith to be oppressed, What greater grief, or sorrow, or unrest, Than such despair ! Dear sister ! Earth is less since thou hast died, And Heaven is more. From Heaven look down and be my constant guide. So may I 'scape the snares of sin and pride, And reach at last, beyond Death's gloomy tide, The shining shore. There, as the tireless centuries come and go. No fate shall sever ; — Supernal joys shall have perpetual flow. Loved ones of old shall throng with hearts aglow. And bid us taste of pleasures, we shall know Are ours forever. S. B. S. 232 POEMS. MUSINGS IN A CEMETEEY. I. I STOOD within the consecrated ground, Where hundreds sleep th' inevitable sleep ; In thoughtful mood I strolled at leisure, round The sacred place where mourners come to weep ; Where sculptured stones their constant vigils keep ; Where solemn trees their drooping branches wave O'er prostrate forms, consigned to slumber deep ; — The old, the young, the good, the base, the brave, All to one common level come at last — the grave ! II. How populous grown, thou city of the dead ! Within the period of a few brief years. How short the time since first a lifeless head Was here laid low with many sighs and tears ! Yet, day by day, upon our careless ears Fall sad the tones of the funereal bell. As, here and there, some fated mortal hears, Sounding for him, th' inexorable kneU — " Hence to the regions where departed spirits dweU I" m. So, one by one, the marble columns rise, And for its tenant yawns another tomb, Musixas ly a cemetery. 233 And some new shaft points upward to tlie sides, And new- wreathed flowers exhale their sweet per- fume — As fain to rob some grave of half its gloom. Here speaks a stone of aged worth passed awaj ; There, of a youth cut do^vn in early bloom ; There, of a child called fi'om its infant play — Blest one ! so soon let in to realms of endless day ! IV. 'Tis a fine impulse — worthy of a race, — The foremost, doubtless, of the sons of earth, — The habitations of the dead to grace With fitting tributes to departed worth. How meet that one w^ho had a common birth With me ; whose youth ran parallel Tvith mine — Who sat beside the same paternal hearth — When called at last his being to resign. Should find a grave o'er which these hands should place a shrine ! V. Yes, honored be the instinct which incites To decoration of the sacred spot Where the dead rest, with something which in- vites, — 234 POEMS. "Which seems to say, " Thou art not clean forgot ; Though gone from earth, thy name hath perished not; But o'er thy ashes, the memorial stone Some place to thee in memory shall allot — Record a Hfe in which some virtues shone Too bright to pass away unchronicled — unknown." VI. It makes the living look with lessened dread On death, and scenes which its approach attend, To see attractions multiplied and spread Around each tomb by some surviving friend. 'Tis sweet to feel that, when one's life shall end, He shall not sleep within a nameless grave, But o'er him some inscription shall defend Awhile his record 'gainst the Lethean wave, — Prolong his influence, and his good example save. vn. And there's incentive in the pleasing thought, That whatsoever hath been grandly done. In panegyric letters may be wrought Upon the shaft, or monumental stone, To tell the pensive passer-by of one Who, in some noble sphere, held high command ; MUSINGS m A CEMETERY. 235 "WTio, in mankind's affection, held a throne ; — Endowed with gifts of head, and heart, and hand ; — Whose Hfe was one long benediction o'er the land. vm. But monuments are feeble bulwarks all Against the havoc and the waste of time ; They serve a purpose, but decay and fall. Ere they who built scarce reach th' eternal clime. Some living truth disclosed — some deed subHme — These be the monuments that shall endure. Great Caesar's valor, — greater Homer's rhyme Give each a place in history secure, — Beneath Fame's temple-dome, a habitation sure. • IX. The prophet, Moses, towards the mountain height, At God's commandment, lifted up his face ; So passed forever out from human sight. And no man knoweth of his burial-place. Yet not till men have lost the power to trace In holy writ, the record blazoned there. Shall he, — the leader of a chosen race, — The homage of the ages fail to share. Or crowns of everlasting splendor cease to wear. 236 POEMS. Of good and bad taste, it may well be said, Our cemeteries make a vast display. Like living cities, cities of tlie dead Wliat sort of folk inhabit there, betray. The architecture of the present day, — The ancient models setting all at nought — In various style — grave, cumbrous, graceful, gay — Some fair, some execrable shapes hath wrought — The chance embodiment of each contriver's thought. XI. Yet 'twere a simple thing to keep within The bounds of proper taste and cultured sense ; Build some substantial structure o'er thy kin, — Against time's ravages, the best defence, — And shun, of all things, vulgar, base pretense. Did he die rich ? be modest, ne'ertheless. Nor strain to typify his opulence By something that shall only make men guess What share it cost of all that Dives did possess. XII. I can perceive a fitness when men build Theu' costly tributes to great Washington ; Or, lavish of expense, adorn and gild MUSINGS IN A CEMETERY. 237 Their proud memorials to each gifted one, — Soldier or sage, or patriot, whose life done, Seems to become the property of all Within whose midst his grand career was nm ; Who, o'er his dust, or in the classic hall, Or in the market-place, his sculp tur'd form install. xni. But Avhen old Jones, whose riches were amassed In manufactui'es, or in merchandise ; In prosperous venture, or some signal cast Of fortune, pays stern Nature's debt, and dies. And wills that o'er his ashes there shall rise The most imposing of memorial stones, — His name, forsooth, to thus immortahze ; I really can but think that Mr. Jones Is paying overdue respect unto his bones. XIV. And mark the folly of the vast outlay ! This man would fain perpetuate his name ; But, ah ! how soon his fabric ^\all decay, And time will mock his weak, pretentious claim. Wealth can find better shifts to purchase fame. Jones spent a fortune ; he might have endowed A charity or college with the same, 238 POEMS, And bought applause from no ignoble crowd, — Conceived a generous act, and won distinction proud. XV. Eicli Amos Lawrence ; — honored be his name ! — A poor boy once, — ^became a millionaire ; Then, thoughtful founder of a fragrant fame. On charities bestowed a zealous care. The tomb that shrines him is a plain affair. And yet his name on many a structure shines. Goes linked with benefactions here and there. And, until Time his sovereignty resigns, On Fame's bright scroll shall be inscribed in living lines. XVI. When I must answer to the final call, I'd have no costly pile above my head ; But I would be remembered, if at all. For something nobly done, or fitly said. But, should I join the multitudinous dead, Who leave no footprints on Time's treacherous sands. Enough for me, to have my children shed Sometimes a tear beside the spot where stands The simple stone placed o'er my dust by friendly hands. MUSINGS IN A CEMETERY. 239 xvn. While thus I mused, lo ! the descending sun Began to cast his shadows, dark and long ; And so, with one accord, were quickly done The day, my stroll, my reverie, and my song. To the near city I made haste along, Through avenues proud, and bustling thorough- fares, And once more mingling with the busy throng, Ah, me ! how soon life's round of paltry cares, Re-ent'ring all my thoughts, possessed me una- wares. S. B. S. 240 POEMS. POEM, DELIVERED AT GREAT BARRINGTON, JULY 4tH, 1865, AND ON SAME DAY IN PITTSFIELD. No MORE to chronicle fraternal wars ; No longer liand-maid of the furious Mars ; No more to beckon to a soldier's grave The youthful warrior, — the heroic brave ; No more with classic tread and useful mien. To lend thy presence to some battle scene ; — Goddess of song ! with gladder notes attend ; Here in our midst, with radiant brow descend ; On happier themes, O let thy zeal increase — The HOUR OF TRIUJUPH, and the dawn of peace ! Dark was the cloud, which, gathering thick and fast. For many years the Nation's sky o'ercast ; And fierce the storm, whose pent-up wrath broke forth O'er desperate South and o'er determined North, When the defiant flag was first unfurled. And civil war's hot thunderbolts were hurled, "Waking the echoes of the startled world. Sad was the day, and evil was the hour. When Keason left her throne and lost her power ; POEM, 241 When first the impious madman dared begin The strife in which he could not hope to win ; To fire the nation's temple dared presume, — Whose flames, once Hghted, must himseK consume ; Too glad this common heritage to mar With all the havoc of tremendous war, And droA\Ti the sacred ties of brotherhood In swollen rivers of fraternal blood ! It was to be ; the God who mles above, — Alike the God of justice, as of love, — Doubt not, was witness with omniscient eye. Of all the scene ; and from His throne on high, Beheld what man saw not, nor yet foresees, — Results, far-reaching through the centuries ! Nay, e'en to us, of finite, feeble sense. Comes now and then a glimpse of recompense, And all the sacrifice of toil and blood Seems cheap in prospect of the coming good. Men die, but nations live, whose men are great, And fit to found and regulate a state ; And nations are the mighty instruments, Beneath the wondrous rule of Providence, Wherewith to hasten that consummate end. To which all time's events and changes tend ; And whoso with a pious trust essays To give his nation power and length of days ; 242 POEMS. To make her nobler, and of higher worth, Among the thrones and kingdoms of the earth. Fulfills a mission ; and may lay him down Where death o'ertakes him ; he hath won a crown. And thou, whose eye to-day can only see That far-off grave 'neath the magnolia tree, — O cease thy grief ; for though no more the boy Comes back to mingle in these scenes of joy, Nor joins his comrades, — ^proudly welcomed now, The laural wreath encircling every brow, — Yet, one day, when God's Bugle in mid-air Shall sound " Attention ! " he too shall be there ; At that last roll-call, " Adsum ! " shall reply. And join the Grand Encampment in the sky ! His work was done ; he had not reached life's noon ; He died too soon, you think, yet not too soon. A hero, died, who might have Hved instead. To die, a riddance, in an old man's bed. Peace to your ashes, brave, departed ones ! Sleep well ; though now the sun may bleach your bones By Mississippi's stream, or down beside "Where the James rolls his deep, historic tide. Our hearts go out and up to you to-day, And bid you God-speed on your heavenward way ; And fresh and green your memories we shall keep. Till ours to sleep the same mysterious sleep ! POEM, 243 Thank God for our glorious, gallant dead ! On history's page we have often read Of the wondrous deeds of those, "Who at famed Thermopylte fought and fell. And at Marathon struggled long and well, — Whose story the grand old writers tell, In immortal verse and prose. And we thought that the age was forever past, "When spirits so noble could still be cast In a like heroic mould ; And we did not dream that here and there, Each in his little round of care, Breathing with us the common air, Were youths, whose courage to do and dare, Occasion might unfold. We have read in old books, of classic ground, And have longed to visit and linger round — As pilgrims round a shrine — Each famous spot, where, in days gone by. Proud Greek met Greek with a dauntless eye, In haughty contempt of death, to die, With an impulse that seemed divine. But no longer we need to gaze afar. To where the grim-visaged god of war Hath stalked with ponderous tread. 244 POEMS. On the hither side of the ocean foam, "Where the young Columbia hath her home, Sacred indeed hath the soil become. With the graves of the deathless dead S Let the Old World now be the New World's guest, As the long Hue moves from East to West, In procession vast and grand Of pilgrims from far beyond the sea, In this favored home of the brave and free, By the graves of martyrs for Liberty, In reverent awe to stand ! Inscribed on a new-built Arch of Fame, Shall stand forever each honored name Of that unselfish throng ; And the unborn millions shall be taught, What deeds subhme these heroes wrought. And how with patriot zeal they fought. And conquered a giant wrong. And of that proud Arch, the white keystone Shall bear the shining name of one, "Whose death was the august crown Of the sacrifices a nation gave. In a perilous hour, its life to save ; — Sleej) well, great Chief, in thy hallowed grave. On the heights of the world's renown ! POEM. 245 Sleep well, O, martyred President ! The dastard blow that struck thee dead, New lustre on thy record shed, And Avrought thee good, where ill was meant. Thou hadst the plenitude of fame. And heart of friend and whilom foe ; There seemed no higher boon below, Or short of Heaven, for thee to claim. So aU-symmetric thy career, To live, was but to jeopardize ; For oft would busy envy rise, And seek excuse to carp and sneer. So, like a fully ripened sheaf, The reaper, Death, at God's command. Did cut thee down with furtive hand, And all the world was plunged in grief. O, how the nation wept for thee ! While fast in sympathetic flow Fell stranger tears, and tones of woe Came wafted o'er the sobbing sea. With calmer eyes we now discern. In this event, the hand of God. We place thy ashes 'neath the sod, And shrine thy deeds in history's urn* 246 POEMS. Full at tlie zenith stood tliy sun, Betokening grateful afternoon ; Yet none shall deem inopportune That swift eclipse ; thy work was done ! Now let us turn the picture round, and view the brighter side. And gather as we gaze, some food for patriotic pride. The crisis o'er, our country lives ; — in vigor yet sur- vives, A thousand-fold more dear for all those consecrated lives. Four years — four pregnant years have passed, since war was first begun ; — The mightiest war that ever yet was waged beneath the sun ; — And every Independence Day, as j^ear succeeded year. Still found within our anxious hearts alternate hope and fear. But, God be praised, the scene is changed ; the clouds have rolled away ; 'Tis ours to hail the dawning of a more auspicious day; POEM. 247 The atmosphere is purer far, — the nation smiles again, And Peace o'er all the fair expanse resumes her glad domain. Our " erring sisters " have come back, — at least they say they're coming ; The busy wheels of enterprise on every side are humming ; The boys come home to breathe the northern air so fresh and balm}- , And each one struts, and brags about — " When I was in the army ! " The contrabands are freemen all ; it seems so strange and new, The situation puzzles them ; they don't know what to do : But let them all lay down to-day the shovel and the hoe, And shout and sing, " De kingdom's come, an' de year ob Jubilo ! " The rebel States come back so fast, for re-admission asking, The powers of the President they're greatly over- tasking ; 248 POEMS. But let each wandering star once more upon our banner shine : To err is human, it is said ; — ^but to forgive, divine. But as for "Jeff," the head and front of all the wicked plan, I'll e'en express my sentiments as mildly as T can. I know you'll think me too severe ; I know I shall be blamed ; And yet I vow and do declare — She ought to he ashamed ! And there's our old friend, Johnny Bull ; my recol- lection's dim. Or else the Yankee nation owes a trifling debt to him. The poor old fellow has the blues, and bitterly des- ponds. And gets no interest, now-a-days, on those Confed- erate bonds 1 And there's the Third Napoleon, and the Sovereign Castilian ; And there's the new-fledged Emperor, the Archduke Maximilian ; Some doctrine we'll expound to them — they call it " the Monroe,"— Unless they very shortly take French leave of Mexico! POEM. 249 We have some little tubs afloat, and now and then a gun, And boys enough, both north and south, who'd Hke to see the fun ; And Montezuma's halls, methinks, will witness quite a scare. When cook-stoves from Connecticut come hissing through the air ! I tell you what : I do believe this mighty Yankee nation. When once it gets its " dander " up, can whip the whole creation; And since our family quarrel's done, and things are quiet now, If people don't behave themselves, there'll be a pre- cious row ! But I must stop my Pegasus, before he does his worst ; — He gets so full of patriotism, I fear the nag will burst ; — He wants to give a toast or two, and then his story's told: It's time to close ; for I suspect the dinner's getting cold. 250 POEMS. Then here's to Grant, and Sheridan, and Farragut, and Sherman ; The Yankee boys, the Irish boys, the steady, fear- less German ; And all the gallant officers, and all the noble men. Who fought the fight ; what land shall look upon their like again ! Long life, and health, and every good, be theirs in bounteous store. Till they shall join their comrades upon Jordan's farther shore ; And when the soil of centuries upon their graves is pressed. Still may the grateful generations rise to call them blest ! And now, to glorious Uncle Sam, let's give a rous- ing cheer ! The dear old Patriarch has reached almost his nine- tieth year. Let every heart and tongue unite to give the toast eclat, And join each voice with mine : Hip ! hip ! Hurra ! Hurra ! ! Hurra ! ! 1 S. B. S. LINES. 251 LINES, READ ON THE OCCASION OF HON. AND MRS. WM. D. BISHOP's CRYSTAL WEDDING, BRIDGEPORT, CT., OCT. 20, 1865. ["Our tokens of compliment and love are for the most part barbarous. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem ; the shep- herd, his lamb ; the miner, a gem ; the sailor, coral and pearls ; the painter, his picture ; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sew- ing." — Pialph Waldo Emerson.'] O GENTLE muse ! who deignest oft thy presence to bestow, Where Hymen celebrates his rites, and Cupid bends his bow ; Descend and hnger here awhile, thy grateful in- fluence shedding, To give this glad occasion voice, and grace our Crys- tal Wedding. No crystal offering I might bring, could hold the least compare With those we witness here displayed, so tasteful and so rare ; Be mine, instead, to shape the thought which ani- mates the throng, And bring it hither, wrought in verse, and crystaHzed in song. 252 POEMS. The Crystal Wedding ! fitting theme for poet's glad- some rhyme ; Bright spot upon the borders of the rapid stream of time. What memories and what hopes surround this point upon life's way, Betwixt the veiled To-morrow, and the beauteous Yesterday ! 'Twas Hope that crowned the nuptial hour, when first the wedded pair Set forth together, hand in hand, the vast Untried to share ; Now Memory too attends the feast, with gladness in her mien, And lends new interest to the time, new beauty to the scene. 'Twas fifteen years ago to-night, the mystic knot was tied, Which bound in holy wedlock, the bridegroom and his bride ; And some were there, who now are here, and some in death lie low, Who bade the happy pair Godspeed, but fifteen years ago ! LINES. 253 And some are here who were not there, — for so the world wags on ; New friendships, and new ties are forming ever and anon ; And some new comers I perceive, of tender ages rather, — The eldest is'nt yet fifteen ; — they all look like their father ! The bride and groom betray no serious ravages of time ; Of manhood, and of womanhood, they scarcely reach the prime ; And yet for them so prosperously hfe's fickle stream hath run, The prizes most can never win, already they have won. For he, in legislative halls, hath mingled with the great, And aided to administer the grand affairs of State, And much goods hath laid up in store since wedded life began, And is a Eailroad President, and was — an Alderman ! And she hath lent the magic charm of beauty and of grace To many a proud assemblage, and many an honored place. 254 P0E3IS. And been a ready helpmeet unto liim in life's en- deavor, And greets us now, a courtly dame, and handsomer than ever I Fifteen years wedded ; no divorce ; no " spats ; " no shattered nerves ; No jars — except that harmless kind, for pickles and preserves ; — Bright children ; very pleasant home, and well-to-do in Hf e ; — 'Tis well ; I yield assent, and do pronounce them man and wife. (I tell you in parenthesis, this ceremony's bind- ing. I know full well that latterly, there has been much fault-finding. Because ambitious laymen played the deuce in one or two setts. But I was made a Justice, when I lived in Massa- chusetts.) Now here's a health, twice-wedded pair, to you and yours we proffer ; Life's bounties may you richly share, in basket, store and coffer ; LINES, 255 No crystal gift that sparkles here, but silently re- hearses The hearty benediction I would fain repeat in verses. And when the years — a decade more — have swiftly passed away, And time perchance hath silvered o'er your brows with lines of gray ; Though weeping friends o'er many a tomb, tears meantime shall be shedding, May it be yours, as bride and groom, to keep your silver wedding ! Nay — rarer chance to mortal lot — still let the msh be spoken. May the silver cord be loosed not, nor the golden bowl be broken. Ere at life's even you shall stand, inspired by memories olden. To join each faithful hand with hand, in nuptials that are golden ! And finally, we wish you all the joys vouchsafed to mortals ; May the shades of life unfrequent fall on these domestic portals ; 256 POEMS. May every tongue your deeds extol ; may friends prove true and stable, And Heaven grant you numerous olive-branches round your table ! And when the promised Bridegroom comes, O may we all behold The crystal stream, the silver thrones, the city of pure gold ; And join that august, shining throng, before the Great I AM, To celebrate eternally the Marriage of the Lamb ! S. B. S. POEM, 257 POEM, DELIVERED AT THE RE-UNION OF THE FORTY-NINTH REGIMENT, MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS, AT PITTS- FIELD, MASS., MAY 21, 1867. How strange a thing is memory : as I gaze This night on comrades of those fruitful days, When armed cohorts thronged on every hand, And war's alarms and thunders shook the land ; I am not here, — ^but backward, far away. My inmost thoughts and recollections stray. And bygone scenes are passing in review. Which, haply, I may reproduce to you. And first. Camp Briggs^' attracts my gaze ; the spot whereto we rallied, When forth from peaceful hearths and homes, as raw recruits we sallied ; When, having stumped the county o'er, for men to aid the nation, We undertook the rudiments of martial education. * Camp Briggs, Pittsfield, so named in honor of Brigadier- General H. S. Briggs. 258 POEMS. And first, there came the " Allen Guard,"* with Cap- tain Israel Weller, — A whilom three-months sergeant, and a funny, whole- souled/e?fer / With Clark and Francis for his aids, he fired the opening gun, And straightway boldly issued " General Order Number One ! " Then Garhck, Plunkett, Sumner, Train and Morey followed fast ; Then Parker, Shannon, Eennie ; and then Weston came the last ; And so, ten goodly companies encamped upon the green, While tents and shanties multiphed, enhvening all the scene. O then 'twas drum-beat, morn and night, and tramp tramp, all the day. And not a little arduous toil, and very little play ; * The "Allen Guard," a militia company in Pittsfield, named after Hon. Thomas Allen, who had contributed largely to its organization and support, was the first company of the Forty- ninth to go into camp. It established itself at Camp Briggs on Sunday, September 7, 1862, which was the day when the Thirty- seventh Eegiment left it for the seat of war. POEM. 259 The boys complained of homesickness ; — the disci- pline seemed hard ; And eyer and anon, at night, the rascals ran the guard. "What stunning dress-parades we had, at every close of day, When all the Pittsfield gentry came to witness the display ; When Captain Weller put us through the exercises fine. And " R. E. Noble, Adjutant," went strutting down the line ! And then, what everlasting drills, and marches up and down, Eliciting the compHments of all the belles in town ; And as we marched in column on, about a score abreast. Good Lord ! how Plunkett's towering form loomed up above the rest ! * Pete Springsteent served the rations round, accord- ing to our means. * The Forty-nintli was known wherever it went as " the regi- ment with the tall major." Major Plunkett was six feet six in his uniform. t Peter Springsteen, whilom landlord of the United States Hotel, Pittsfield, furnished rations for officers and men, when the camp was first established, and accompanied the regiment South as its sutler 260 POEMS. The beefsteak was exceeding good, and eke the pork and beans. Our appetites were glorious, and we minded not the odds. And quaffed our coffee piping hot ; 'twould kill at forty rods ! Of Pittsfield hospitality, I hardly need remind ; — This grand old town, whose people were so generous and kind ; Where many a mansion, with the warmth of wel- come, was aglow, As, through the " witching hours," we tripped " the light fantastic toe." And here, the pensive muse would pause, in sadness to deplore The death of Sarah Morewood, who shall greet us here no more. Deep on the white entablature of memory, we record Her yirtues, yielding now, we trust, exceeding rich reward.^ * Mrs. Sarali A. Morewood, late of Pittsfield, now deceased, was a lady of ample means, and proportionate generosity. The Thirty-first and Thirty-seventh Begiments while encamped at Pittsfield had received many favors at her hands, but the Forty- ninth were especially indebted to her for many acts of kindness POEM. 261 At first, the clear October days were mild and warm enougli ; But, bj-and-bye, the nights grew cold, and winds blew chill and rough ; The guard-house was a populous and thriving insti- tution, And all the while our rank and file betrayed a dimi- nution. We shall not soon forget the day, when orders came to leave, — To pack all up for Worcester, and go that very eve. Our tents were struck, our knapsacks slung, — and then, — lo, and behold, — Our train came not, and there we stood, a' shivering in the cold ! On th' horrors of that dreadful night, I need not here to dwell, — The men were all disgusted, and the officers as well ; and attention. Before l(!aving Pittsfield every officer was pre- sented by her with a portfolio with writing materials, in con- venient form for camp use, and also a copy of the Scriptures, and a number of miscellaneous books. The whole regiment was the recipient of her hospitality on many occasions, at Pittsfield, and while in barracks in New lork, and in camp on Long Island. 262 POEMS, But, wliat with show of coffee and refreshments, brought from town, And sharing witli the men the "gloom," we kept their temper down. The welcome morning dawned at last; the tardy train arrived ; "We gave Camp Briggs a parting cheer ; our spirits quite revived ; With many a benediction from many an anxious friend, Away we sped : — and so I bring this chapter to an end. And now, at Camp Wool, Worcester, we tarried for awhile. We came at night, and travel-worn for many a wea- ry mile. That snow-storm you'll remember, and the wintry winds that blew, And the hospitable snow-drifts that we had to stum- ble through. But the commodious barracks, and the host of gen- erous friends We found down there in Worcester, soon made complete amends ; POEM. 263 The drilling-grounds were spacious, and the winds began to lull ; Oh ! after traveling farther, we sighed for old Camp Wool! And Colonel "Ward,* who held command, and after- wards who died A hero's death, we here recall with sorrow, yet with pride. A courteous gentleman was he ; a soldier true and brave ; Long let memorial flowers bloom above his honored grave! And here it was we organized; and for our leader chose A private at the war's outbreak — a General at its close. He needs no cheap insignia now — of eagles, or of stars, — His badges of nobility are honorable scars. f * Colonel George Ward commanded the camp at Worcester when the Forty-ninth arrived. The Fifty-first Massachusetts Eegiment was also there. Colonel Ward had been in active ser- vice, and the artificial leg which he wore testified that he had been to the front. He afterwards returned to active duty, and eventually fell in battle. t Major-General Bartlett was in the Junior Class at Harvard when the war broke out. He enlisted as a private for the three months' campaign ; then he became Captain in the Twentieth 264 POEMS. The " Bay State "* was a famous place for sociable resort, Where Captain Shannon took by storm the grand Piano Forte ; Where Weller improvised the dance, and Doctor Rice grew mellow, And spun his yarns, which made him out — a devil of a fellow ! Mahsacliusetts, and was acting mucli of the time while in that regiment as Field Officer. At the battle of Ball's Bluff he showed great bravery and skill, and succeeded in bringing off from the field a small remnant of his men, crossing the river himself in the last boat, after seeing his command safely out of the clutches of the enemy. While before Yorktown he received a wound in his leg, requiring amputation above the knee. Subsequently he was appointed Commandant of the post at Camp Briggs, and although an entire stranger to the officers of the Forty-ninth, so favorably impressed them, that they chose him as their Colonel. He served with the regiment, and was severely wounded in the attack on Port Hudson, May 27, 1863. After the Forty-ninth was mustered out, he became Colonel of the Fifty-seventh, and served under Grant in the long campaign of 1864-5 against Bich- mond. He was wounded at the battle of the Wilderness, and for his bravery promoted to be Brigadier-General. At the attack on Petersburgh, at the time of the explosion of the mine. General Bartlett was captured, and was a prisoner in the hands of the enemy for some time. At the close of the war, he was brevetted a Major-General, at the age of twenty-five, a most merited com- pliment, most fitly bestowed at the termination of so remarkable and brilliant a career. He has since died of diseases contracted in the service. * The Bay State Hotel, Worcester, was the place where we went occasionally to get a "square meal," and have a social time. POEM. 265 The ladies came in troops, to do our necessary stitch- ing, To glad us with their charming smiles, and manners so bewitching ; In truth I deem it very sure, had we much longer tarried. Each bachelor would then and there have been de- coyed and married ! But orders came to move again ; — again we watched in vain From day to day, the coming of the transportation train ; We Hngered through Thanksgiving, and were hap- pily sm-prised By dinners which those same dear creatures quickly improvised. Next day we took the Norwich cars, and then the " Commodore," A steamboat staunch, which bore us straight to old Manhattan's shore ; And so, one drizzly morning, fatigued and hungered all— We stretched om' line across the Park, before the City Hall. 266 POEMS. The barracks up in Franklin street, became our next resort, — A place to study insect-life of every phase and sort ; "We tarried but a week or so — but plenty long enough ; The best accommodations there — to draw it mild — were "rough." Behold us on Long Island next, at Union Course en- camped ; The ground was wet, and so our feet and ardor both were damped ; However, we contrived to hve and flourish passing well. For Hu-am Woodruff's was hard by, and Snedeker's Hotel. And here it was we lingered on for quite a length of time. And many a day experienced the roughness of the clime ; At East New York we had a row, the Sutler grew so mean, The boys confiscated his goods, and smashed up his machine.* * The allusion here is by no means to our old friend Spring- steen, but to the rascal who contracted to feed the troops on Long Island hy the job, and served the boys with rations of rancid pork and beef, that were "an infringement of Goody ear's patent for Vulcanized Rubber." POEM. 267 But, by-and-by, they placed our boys, — their com- fort to increase, — "Where trotting nags had quartered in the piping times of peace f And here we stayed, and here we drilled, and kept om- snug abode, And marched our soldiers back and forth, along the smooth plank road. And now, a large detachment was assigned for pro- vost work. In picking up deserters in the City of New York. Our boys resolved themselves into a Vigilance Com- mittee, To watch that mythic " Elephant," that stalks about the city. At length there came an order, to our most imfeign- ed joy, To embark our troops for Dixie, on the steamer " II- Hnois ;" * The barracks in the rear of Snedeker's Hotel, consisted of the stalls which had been used for trotting horses, in connection with the races at Union Course. The names of many celebrated nags were posted up in the stalls which they had respectively occu- pied ; and the use to which these accommodations had come to be appropriated, was matter of considerable remark and merriment. 268 POEMS. We set sail in higli feather, — but, arrived off Sandy Hook, A feeling slightly singular our senses overtook. A disposition seized us, to keep the vessel's side, And cease our conversation, and only watch the tide. We found some strange attraction the briny surge beneath. And many a mouth was wide agape, — and Charlie lost his teeth ! And when we reached Cape Hatteras, our symptoms were redoubled, And many a fellow's diaphragm with dreadful qualms was troubled ; O ever since, when I desire my veriest foe to be With heaviest penance visited, I wish him out at sea ! We gained at length the South-west Pass, of Missis- sippi's stream, And once more, of smooth waters and green fields, « began to dream ; But our voyage seemed prosecuted beneath a luck- less star, And our ship was over-freighted, and we couldn't cross the bar. POEM. 269 We telegraphed to New Orleans, and soon with joy espied The Yankee boat, "New Brunswick," at ancher alongside. She bore ns up the river, and beneath the clear moon's light, Louisiana's sacred soil regaled our gladdened sight. Next morning, as we trod the deck, with interested eye. We gazed on fine plantations, as we swiftly floated by. The sweet abodes of peace they seemed, nor could we, from afar. Discern as yet the havoc wrought by fratricidal war. And now, upborne in heaven, the Day-king held his throne. And in the glorious sunlight, a hundred steeples shone. There sat the Crescent City on the river's eastern shore, O how unlike the City it had been in days before ! Its levees all unoccupied for miles along, save where A federal transport lay in wait for orders, here and there ; 270 POEMS. While in mid-stream the gunboats lay, with ever threat'ning frown, And iron fingers pointing towards the proud but con- quered to\\Ti. And here we ate fresh oranges, and, after noon sailed on, A few miles up the river, to encamp at Carrol- ton, — A place, by no means such as that for which our hopes were looking, The most attractive thing to us, was Madame Schraeder's cooking. But here we met the Thirty-first ; and glad enough were they To welcome us, so lately come from Berkshire homes away; And many a spot we talked about, where we would Hke to peep in. Of dinners that we used to eat, and beds we used to sleep in. We took some trips to New Orlean: along about those days. And studied its geography, and learned its devious ways; POEM. 271 And dined at tlie St. Charles Hotel, and looked at octoroons, But, others having been and gone, we brought away no spoons. For Baton Eouge we started next, — the night was chill and dark. It took us until past midnight, our baggage to em- bark ; The Major's horse fell overboard ; we bivouacked on the shore. And the Colonel vowed those cook-stoves should encumber us no more ! We floated up the river all the following day and night. Till we saw afar the State House, with its massive walls of white ; And the Hospital we wot of, and the Arsenal, all standing Along the river's eastern shore, the noble stream commanding. And here we joined the First Brigade, in Augur's famed Division, And carried on our strict routine with order and precision ; 272 POEMS. And liere, I recollect, we all financially were busted, But Train and Morey came across some sutlers tliere, who trusted ! And here, until the fourteenth day of March, we lay at ease, When General Banks conceived a plan, with force and arms to seize The stronghold of Port Hudson ; — ^but here let the Muses rest, I'll sing that olden ballad ; it will aid our memories best. THE PASSAGE OF THE MONTESINO * Banks, of Shenandoah fame, By the Crescent City swore That Port Hudson, on the river. Should defy his might no more. * This ballad, " The Passage of the Montesino," was written at the time, and on the spot, and contains scintillations of more than one genius. Several officers had a hand in its production. In fact, nearly half of it was written before we were invited to take a share in the intellectual effort necessary for its completion. The several authors would prefer not to publish their names, but we are bound to state that the regiment could boast a good deal of undeveloped poetical talent. The ballad was read by a great many within and without the regiment at the time it was written, and we are glad to put it in shape for preservation, after elimi- nating some local allusions and hits, the printing of which would be matter of doubtful propriety. POEM. 273 By the Crescent City swore it, And sent without delay, An order to his Chief of Staff, To summon his array. He summoned to him Farragut, And gave him orders sealed ; Then, girding on his armor. With his staff he took the field. Attend ye to the story, Which I will now relate ; It happened in the Lowlands Of Louisiana State. 'Twas on a cool March morning. When we our steeds bestrode ; And, just as day was dawning. Struck the Bayou Sara road."^^ We crossed the Montesino By plank bridge, and pontoon ; And halted for the bivouac, Some three hours after noon.f * The road leading out of Baton Eouge, northerly towards Port Hudson, some twenty-five miles distant. t The Bayou Montesino is a small stream or creek, about six miles north of Baton Kouge. The place where we "halted for the bivouac " is some miles further north. 274 POEMS. We plucked the rails from off the fence — Of boards there were but few, — And spread our scanty shelter tents, To shield us from the dew. The air was filled with squeal of pigs, And cackle of the geese ; While stalwart oxen lost their hides, And simple lambs, their fleece.* And now the night was falling, Soon rose the evening star ; And through the deepening twilight, Gleamed camp-fires from afar. But hark ! what noise arises I This night we sleep no more ; For the tide of battle surges On Mississippi's shore ! t * The "gobbling" done by our men on that expedition, was something tremendous. It was strictly forbidden in orders from Headquarters ; but hunger knows no law, and officers were obliged to wink at some dejiredations iipon private property in the ene- my's country, especially as an occasional rare bit thereby found its way into their own mess. t There was heavy cannonading during the night, as Farragut was attempting to pass the batteries on the river, and did succeed in passing Port Hudson with the Flagship Hartford, and the Al- batross, The head of our column was also near enough to Port Hudson to make some demonstration on land, and divert as much as possible the attention of the enemy from Farragut's operations. POEM. 275 And now, an aide from Chapin, — The Driller of Brigades — * An order brings to form the line In haste, without parades. Upon his own black stallion Sat the gallant Brigadier ; And he called to him the Colonel, And he whispered in his ear ; " Our army has attacked the Fort, And been repulsed ; " — they say — " In haste o'ertake the Forty-eighth,t And homeward lead the way ! " The bivouac of our brigade was probably three miles east from the river, and some miles south from the outer line of fortifica- tions of Port Hudson. The explosion of our gunboat, Mississippi on the river, lighted up our camp with the glare of day : and the report, which was not heard until the lapse of a minute, as it seemed, was terrific. This was about three o'clock in the morn- ing, and an order coming nearly simultaneously, to fall in, and march back the way we came, created a temporary panic which is cursorily described in the verses which follow. * Colonel Chapin, of the One Hundred and Sixteenth New York, Commander of our brigade ; and, as is hinted, an inveterate drill- er thereof. He was a brave and faithful officer, and was killed at the storming of Port Hudson, on the 27th of May. President Lincoln appointed him Brigadier-General, of date the day of his death. t The Forty-eighth Massachusetts ; which, together with the One Hundred and Sixteenth New Yorlc, Twenty -first Maine, and our own regiment, constituted our brigade. 276 POEMS. The road is blocked with wagons. The darkness settles down ; But swiftly marched the Forty-ninth, In silence back to town. The EoETY-NiNTH marched swiftlj ; But swifter far than they, Beneath their feet, the Forty-eighth Let no grass grow, that day. Their Colonel had been ordered By General Banks, they say — To hold the Montesino, And keep the foe at bay. The Bayou Montesino reached. No foe was there discovered ; And silence was the deity, That o'er the valley hovered. Ah, then, the gallant Forty-eighth Did mighty deeds of valor ; And courage on each countenance, Assumed the place of pallor. And now their Colonel, homeward bent- Their manly zeal arouses ; POEM. 277 " Press on, brave boys, and seize and hold Our lumber and cook-houses ! "^ And so, for many a weary mile, In toilsome march, we find them ; Before them were their household gods ; The FoKTY-NiNTH behind them ! And now, a short half mile ahead. The old camp greets their vision ; And each indulges sweet foretaste Of sleep and dreams elysian. But look ! behind, a cloud of dust Our eyes are now discerning ; It cannot be ; — it is, it is An order for returning If The Eeverend Chaplain — worthy soul — Had trotted on before ; And so he did not hear his flock, How dreadfully they swore ! * The old camp of the Forty-eighth at Baton Kouge, had been very comfortably arranged, with elaborate cook-houses, etc. , and the regiment seemed to feel great apprehension, lest some other regiment should arrive there first, and establish " cquatter sov- ereignty." t Just as we came in sight of our old camp that day (the 15th) we received orders to march back, and encamp at Bayou Mon- tesino. 278 POEMS. The sun was near his setting — The clouds betokened rain, Wlien, having reached the Bayou, We pitched our tents again. And now, in all their fury, The elements are roaring ; And down in "copious torrents, The watery flood is pouring. O, orange groves and palm-trees ! O, land of milk and honey ! Where " zephyrs were so very soft, And skies so bright and sunny ;" We thought to spend a winter here, Should fortune so decree it. Would be the thing : — but, on that night. We really couldn't see it ! All o'er the deeply-furrowed field, * The waters rose so high. Our boys could neither make their beds, Nor keep their powder dry. * We encamped on "Pike's Plantation," in a field where cane had been grown the year before. The furrows were very deep, and the rain soon filled them with water. Here we were never- theless tired enough to sleep ; but many a poor fellow contracted the fever that day and night, which, within a fortnight, consigned him to a furrow in which he still lies. POEM. 279 The guns with rust were covered o'er, And many a luckless wight Began to think his chance was slim, If forced into a fight But if he dared to try his piece, And if it chanced to go ; He had to stand at " shoulder arms," For half a day or so."^ At Bayou Montesino, For six long days we stayed, To tempt the rebel foemen Our precinct to invade. We gobbled up their sugar. We licked their syrup fine ; And longed to lick the rebel Who dared approach the line. * It was contrary to orders for any one to fire off a piece in camp, as false alarms were to be deprecated. One of our officers was under arrest for a week for firing off a pistol. The boys were sometimes very sure that their guns were so rusty that they wouldn't go off, and the cartridges couldn't be drawn with a wormer ; and, furthermore, an attack from the rebels was hourly expected. Yet if an unlucky private tried his piece, and it did go, he was summoned up in the front of the Colonel's quarters, and ordered to do penance by standing there under arms tiU duly re- leased. The muse records this as an instance of dilemmas in which soldiers were sometimes placed. 280 POEMS. But only to O'Brien's^ gaze, And the gallant cavaliers, Who hailed from "Little Ehodj," The enemy appears. In vain did General Dudley His whole brigade deploy, « And execute manoeuvres, The rebels to decoy. For, as that famous army Aforetime, marched in vain ; So, Dudley did go forward, And bravely back again, t Of all that week's adventures, We lack the words to tell ; * Lieutenant-Colonel O'Brien, of the Forty-eighth Massachu- setts ; an impulsive, but brave Irishman, who commanded the storming party at Port Hudson, May 27, was killed. On one occasion, while at Bayou Montesino, he was officer of the day ; and a company of Bhode Island cavalry, who wer3 out on picket, thought they discovered the enemy approaching, and reported accordingly to Colonel O'Brien, who rushed to Headquarters and made such representations that Dudley's brigade of our division was ordered out to meet the intruders. It proved to be a false alarm. f " The French marched up the hill with an army of ten thou- sand men, and then — marched down again ! " POEM. 281 I " I never see that ! " says she with " Jock " | And sighs " Ah ! weU ! well ! well ! " - ^ At length there came an order — : On dress-parade 't was read ; — : 'T was General Banks who sent it, — ; Now what do you think it said ? t j j " My vaHant hoj^ ; take courage ! ; Our object is attained ; ] Your cue is to be jubilant, 1 For victory has been gained. j " Perhaps you deemed it ' running,' i The morn you were so fleet ; But the truth is you were making j A * masterly retreat ! ' "You see, I only wanted — . While Farragut passed through j The gauntlet on the river — That you should halloo ' Boo ! ! ! ' " I came a week beforehand, To Baton Kouge, you know ; * Favorite expressions of astonishment with Frenchman "Jock," the Colonel's servant. t General Banks issued a congratulatory order, saying the ob- ject of our march was accomplished, etc., but as we had failed to capture Port Hudson, we could hardly "see the point." 282 POEMS. And had a very grand review ; — But that was all for show. "And now, my boys, I thank ye, For gallant deeds ye've done ; Go back to cami^ and rest ye On the laurels ye have won. *' And in the long hereafter, Be this your glorious boast ; — *We went with Banks's army To Port Hudson almost ! Then there came a thrilling order in the following month of May, To take by storm Port Hudson, with ardor to essay. It was a fearful struggle, and the muse forbears to dwell On that momentous conflict, and the fate which there befel.* * On the 27tli of May, the Forty-ninth had one company (G) on provost duty at Baton Kouge ; Company F was guarding the baggage train ; about one hundred men were on picket duty, and a large number in convalescent camp and hospital, bo that but two hundred and thirty-three men took part in the assault. Of this number, sixteen were killed and sixty-four wounded, making eighty in all— more than one third of the whole number. The POEM. 283 For memory will remind us of the gallant boys wlio died, While with us there contending, fighting bravely, side by side ; Who sleep in nameless graves afar beneath that Southern sod, And whose souls were thence uplifted to the pres- ence of their God. O, if no other impulse moved our hearts to gather here. To hold one brief communion, with each recurring year ; Our duty still were plain enough, since, hapty, we survive. Their sacrifice to count, and keep their memories alive. O, such a brotherhood as ours, we shall not find else- where, And ours are obligations that we never may for- swear ; Colonel and Lieutenant-Colonel were both wounded, and every company had one or more officers killed or wounded. Officers and soldiers who served throughout the war, and who partici- pated in the assault of May 27, have pronounced it one of the se- verest and bloodiest engagements in the history of the war. 284 P0EM8. j The warm, fraternal flame within our breasts can \ ne'er expire, For our initiation was The Baptism of Fike. ! From the threshold of Eternity, amid the battle's din. We did hardly meet dismissal, as our brothers en- tered in ; They have crossed the stream to where the fields \ with lasting verdure smile, ] And we, upon its hither shore, are lingering 3^et \ awhile. ! Yet not unscathed did we escape the battle's angry storm, — j I stand surrounded here by many a scarred and I shattered form. I The grim Death-Angel, hurling forth his missiles j thick and fast. Gave some of us the tokens of his presence as he ; passed. ! Then let us praise the God of Hosts, whose overrul- ing power Did shield us, and deliver us in that portentous hour ; \ Nor let those heroes moulder there, unhonored and j unwept. In that mysterious sleep which peradventure we had | slept ! ■ FOEM. 285 Thus, brothers, in numbers less brief than intended, I have sung, as my impulses moved me ; and now. Ere the har]3 be unstrung, and its minstrelsy ended, Let us banish the sadness that sits on each brow. The conflict is over ; and Victory, descending, Is perched on the Banner, so proudly we bore ; And the white Dove of Peace its glad i^resence is lending, And we hst to the clamor of battle no more. I have sung of our perils by land and by water, And glimpses of by-gones have sought to unfold ; Of scenes of enjoyment, of hardship, of slaughter ; Yet how much, after all, there remaineth untold ! But while memory lasts, though our heads become hoary. The events we were part of, we shall not forget ; But to our childrens' children shall narrate the story, While with tears sympathetic, their eyes shall be wet. And as time shall roll on, let us happily gather. Now and then one more glance retrospective to cast; With a fondness and longing, unlessened, but rather More deep, as our years recede into the past. 286 POEMS. And now, let the generous cup be o'erflowing With grateful libations, potential to cheer; The rapture of social enjoyment bestowing, As we strengthen the ties of our fellowship here. S. B. S. LINES. 287 LINES, KEAD AT GREAT BARRINGTON, MASS., JULY 4, 1867, ON THE OCCASION OF THE VISIT OF AMEKICUS HOSE COM- PANY, OF BRIDGEPORT, TO GREAT BARRINGTON, AS THE GUESTS OF HOPE COMPANY, NO. 1. Those sempiternal editors, on both sides of tlie border, Who, sometimes, for the lack of news, concoct a batch to order, — Have been proclaiming all along, that, previous to the races,"^ My Pegasus would volunteer to show the crowd his paces. I wish those editors could know how serious a thing It is, on all occasions to be advertised to sing ; And, furthermore, that Pegasus, when once you try the rule That — will he, nil he — he shall go : — is staky as a mule ! And yet, upon this festal day, when, on my native heather. So many new and old-time friends are haply met together ; * The exercises of the celebration that day, concluded with races on the Housatonic Fair Grounds. 288 F0EM8. I fain would clothe the sentiments which to the hour belong In drapery of fitting rhyme, and comely garb of song. I stand upon my native hills ; and once again be- hold Familiar scenes — all redolent of memories of old ; The grand old elms in majesty the smiling landscape crown, And on the sweet vale, as of yore, the lordly hills look down. I clasp the hands of early friends ; while, answering to my gaze, Gleam genial stranger faces here, — the friends of latter days ; The present and the past unite ; — the mountains greet the sea, — The rare occasion is replete with poetry to me. Here did my young eyes look their first on things beneath the sun, — Here were my earliest lessons learned ; my earhest prizes won ; Here the delightful school-boy days flew onward all too fast. And here my early manhood years in sweet content were passed. LINES. 289 And many a merry, glorious Fourth, as year suc- ceeded year, Have I, in unforgotten days, enjoyed and welcomed here. There's many an " old inhabitant " can testify, I trow, What annual racket I helped make — say twenty years ago ! We boys were wont to congregate in force the eve before. And make the whole night hideous with glare, and din, and roar. I met some of them, — older grown — last evening at the train, And, for the nonce, I could but feel that we were boys again ! But those old times have passed away ; — their very memories seem Far down the distant retrospect, like some mysteri- ous dream. No more those primitive affairs in once secluded vale : For, now-a-days, we celebrate upon a larger scale. No sanguine orator unto my boyish ears foretold In highest flights of prophecy, the scene we here be- hold. 290 POEMS. The " woolen works " in Barrington were then but sheep and lambs, And Bridgeport, an obscure resort for men in quest of clams. The steam-car was unknown up through the Housa- tonic vale ; 'Twas deemed a quite indecorous thing to ride upon a rail ; The man who lived in Berkshire, and had seen Long Island Sound, Was no small " pumpkins," you may bet, in all the country round ! But, by-and-by, the thought occurred to some sa- gacious mind. Old Berkshire to Long Island Sound, by railroad ties to bind ; So, Barrington's the depot now for many a thriving town. And Bridgeport has become, indeed, a city of re- nown. And so it was a pleasant thought for Berkshire boys, to-day, To bid us hasten hither from a hundred miles away. LINES. 291 I know a heartier patriotism each stranger bosom thrills, Inhaled with this sweet atmosphere among the Berkshire hills ! And now, may this acquaintanceship, so pleasantly begrm, Betain a lasting friendship in the breast of every one; And when the day is over, and we seek our homes again. May each have added one bright link to memory's golden chain ! S. B. S. 292 POEMS. POEM, DEUVERED BEFORE THE GR^ND CHAPTER OP THE ZETA PSI FRATERNITY, AT DELMONICO's, NEW YORK CTTY, DECEMBER 27, 1867. I GO back twenty years to-night, and bring to mind the days. When with my college peers I strove to win scholas- tic bays ; And varied the routine of tasks laborious and dry, By joining in the mystic rites of glorious Zeta Psi. I see, in that far retrospect, that little band of ours. Which held its conclaves jast beyond where lordly Greylock towers : — For I'm a Berkshire boy, and gained my academic knowledge In what you might be pleased to term, a mere " fresh- water college." O, very pleasant were the hours we spent within the place Where our enthroned Hierophant alone unveiled his face ; Vouchsafing intellectual food to each and every one. And eke the generous dessert of good-fellowship and fun. POEM. 293 What rousing times we used to have, electioneering, then. When each commencement-day brought on a bevy of fresh men ; When every society disparaged all the others, And reaped the annual harvest of its new-inducted brothers ! I've been a politician since, and mingled in the brawls Of primaries, and caucuseSj and legislative halls ; And watched poKtical machines, and been within the ring. And button-holed the Governor, and all that sort of thing; But ne'er within my memory did affairs of such con- cern Depend on human strategy, or fate's capricious turn. As those contentions, who should hold the favorite positions, And bear away the honors at the college exhibi- tions. And when it chanced, — to gladden my enthusiastic eye,— That on the victor's person flashed the badge of Zeta Psi ; 294 POEMS. I tell you, 't was a prize unmatclied by many later toys,— For men still clutcli their playthings, and are simply older boys. The college is a microcosm ; and if we don't inherit. We're sure as students to imbibe enough of party spirit ; The tree inclines precisely as at first you bend the twig — A. Oakey was a " Kap," I'm told, and Hoffman was a " Sig." The youth who leads a college clique, will, doubtless, lead a clan Somewhere, upon a larger scale, when he becomes a man; And he whom all his cronies hailed, a jovial, genial fellow, Will hold his own, e'en when the leaf of Hfe is sere and yellow. The boys of twenty years ago ! as I recall them now. Alternate shade and sunshine seem to flit across my brow : POEM. 295 I follow down the catalogue the old names, one by one, And note with varied sentiments what time for each hath done. There's one, is U. S. Senator ; and two or three de- termine The weighty matters of the law, and wear judicial ermine ; And some have found the source of wealth remark- ably prolific. Upon the far Nevada heights, and shores of the Pa- cific. Some argue causes at the bar, and legal quibbles moot. And some — ^Lord help them ! — strive to " teach the young idea to shoot ;" Some deal in goods and merchandise, with manners bland and pleasing, And some the tortured purse of poor old " Uncle Sam " are squeezing. Some grace the pulpit, and proclaim the everlasting Word; Some, in the latter pregnant times, have wielded well the sword ; 296 POEMS. And one — a mighty handsome chap — a veritable Paris — Has simply raised a fine moustache, and — carried off an heiress ! Some boast a goodly heritage, and live aloof from cares ; Some operate in fancy stocks, among the *• Bulls and Bears ;" Some scribble for the papers, and employ the art phonetic ; Some wake the oratoric strain, and some the strain poetic. And some, in life's bright morning, have responded to the call. Which, soon or late, shall send forth its alarum to us all. I count upon that little list, the death stars ; — they are seven ; So many old-time friends have sped from earth — we trust, to Heaven. But turn we now to witness, after lapse of twenty years. How fair a thing, and vigorous, our Zeta Psi ap- pears ; POEM. 297 From tiny seed, on welcome soil, the forest mon- archs grow. And they who plant, do oftentimes plant wiser than they know. The tender shoot, whose destiny no mortal might foresee. Hath grown, and flourished, and become a very Banyan tree ; And hundreds of ingenuous youth, beneath its bow- ers have strayed, To hear the whispering of its leaves, and linger 'neath its shade. We build our own best monuments ; our own deeds, after aU, Outlast the brass, or marble, or the niche in storied hall. Well saith the Poet — " We ourselves can make our lives sublime. And, dying, leave behind us footprints on the sands of Time." I know not whether simple slab, or more pretentious pile, Kepeats the tale that Sommers* Hved, and wrought on earth awhile ; * John B. Yates Sommers, — Founder of the Fraternity. 298 POEMS, What recks he, since in hearts like these shall be en- shrined his name, And Time itseK shall only add fresh laurels to h'*' fame ! And now, dear brothers, standing here, within your midst, I seem Like mythic Eip Yan Winkle, softly wakened from a dream. Emotions passing sweetest song my inmost heart o'erflow. As I renew the vows to-day of twenty years ago. I feel it was a kindly act, rejuvenating me, Who watched the infant stem erewhile, to now be- hold the tree. The choruses of bygone years repeat their glad re- frain, And I am Heaven's favorite — a college boy again ! And now, long live our Zeta Psi ! and as the years roll round. May roots and branches new on our fraternal tree be found ; And ever and anon, beneath its overhanging boughs. May it be ours to congregate, and ratify our vows. POEM. 299 And you, my younger brethren, pray remember, that to me, And my compeers, you owe it now, to cultivate the tree ; So shall it thrive, and may kind Heaven vouchsafe that you and I, May Hve to see our grand-sons wear the badge of Zeta Psi 1 S. B. S. 300 POEMS. A LEGEND OF BLACK ROCK. AN" OWER TRUE TALE. 'TwAS on the first of April, and the sun had just gone down, And the shades of night were falling on a certain sea-coast town ', When a few congenial spirits somehow happened to combine, At the Doctor's fco assemble, and discourse of tur- pentine.* Now, these chaps who thus assembled, we may just as well premise. Were a parcel of stockholders in a famous enter- prise, To extract from out a cord of wood, when duly baked and fried. Turpentine, tar, coal, and acid, and no end of gas beside. But like all contrivance human, this had had its ups and downs. And dame fortune had cajoled it with alternate smiles and frowns, * Dr. J , an entliusiastic stockholder. A LEGEND OF BLACK BOCK 301 And the sessions at the sanctum where the Doctor sat in state, Had been frequent as the changes and vicissitudes of fate. When the " Holmes "* came in all laden with a car- go worth the while, It was better than his doses to behold the Doctor's smile. When 'twas thought the " Holmes " was cast away, and every one felt blue, *T was the Doctor who could, best of all, their flag- ging hopes renew. Now, on this same first of April, there had been a lucky fry, And the hopes of all the party were proportionately high. And the Doctor was foretelling, with the wisdom of a prophet. How this would beat all frying pans elsewhere this side of Tophet. Just then there came a knocking at the Doctor's of- fice door. And a rather stout man opened it, and stalked the threshold o'er ; ♦ The " Madison Holmes," a schooner bought by the Company for transporting pine from North Carolina. 302 POEM^. Said he, " Get up your horse, Doctor, as quick as e'er you can, Our deuced works are all a-fire, as I'm a living man!" Up rose the frightened company, in consternation aU, And on each countenance at once there came a sol- emn pall, But the Doctor cried, " Sit still, my boys ; no April fool am I, — There's no such thing ; and as for you, I tell you sir, you lie!" But the stout man called the negro man, and bade him go ahead. And get the best nag harnessed, and the buggy from the shed ; And the Doctor compromised so far, he'd go at least to see What, under heaven, all that flame and ominous smoke could be. They westward drove — the Doctor and the stout aforesaid man ; A lurid light the while had come, the western sky to span ; A LEGEND OF BLACK JROCK 303 They reached, they crossed Division street ; in mad career they flew, When all at once the dreadful scene burst forth upon their view ! "My God! my God!" the Doctor cried; "and do I wake or dream ? And can that be our kindling wood which makes that awful gleam ? And must they burst, those tender chords, that bind this heart of mine, To all those cords of wood, and eke that tar and " turpentine !" Meanwhile the stout man cocked his eye, and with poetic gaze, Regarded Nature's grander moods, and watched the gorgeous blaze. " Behold ! " said he, " my friend, behold, how awful- ly sublime. Up toward the stars, to contemplate those blazing cinders climb ! " " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " the Doctor said, " why over- flow my cup Of sorrow, as I only see my fondest hopes go up. 304 P0EM8. '. Untold per cent., softest of things, and almost here ; in pocket, — i Spirit of Sliadrach ! there it goes, brief, brilliant as a rocket ! " In rage the Doctor lashed his steed ; they quickly cleared the mile. Which brought them to the fated spot where they j had staked theh pile. ; 'T was nothing but a funeral pile ; they could do ^ nought but mourn. For that which was, but now had gone to that pro- . ! verbial "bourne." ****** I The pensive pilgrim, as he wends his way along the i coast, ; May note to-day an inlet, whose good harborage is i its boast ; i A splendid shaft there towers, inscribed, "A.-D.,- i_8-6-9." ; Which means to say — " This classic field is soaked '• with — TUEPENTINE ! " j S. B. S. \ ROSE COTTAGE REMimSCENCES. 305 ] EOSE COTTAGE EEMINISCENCES. TO MRS. JOSEPHINE . i You threw me down " the glove " one day — i (The " mitten " long before !) And bade me in some simple lay i Eecall the times of yore ; When you and I were lass and lad, i And life-tints all were rosy, Whose pleasures were in common had, i By *' Samivel " and " Josie." I So, Josie, dear ; — for e'en so now I'll venture to address thee, — Tho' other lips retm^ned thy vow, And other hands caress thee, — | A ballad of the olden time * • I'll sing ; — but since our houses i Are side by side, pray keep the rhyme I A secret from our spouses ! 1 I And to begin : two decades back ! Along the vale of years, " A distant speck on memory's track, J " Eose Cottage " school appears. ' 306 FOEMS. The place is strangely altered now, And where the roses flourished, There stands a shrine where sinners bow, And hungry souls are nourished. I mind me of the " corridor " — A sort of masked embrasure, Behind which maidens waited for And spied the beaux at leisure. I mind me of the houses twain. Between, the cosy arbor, — When " Tommy " chased some venturous swain, 'T was no ungrateful harbor. O, peaceful scenes ! O, classic shades ! Where precept and example Were both combined in three staid maids — 'T would seem the means were ample To keep those cloistered nuns intent Upon the tasks before them ; And yet how many a smile was lent To lads who dared adore them ! And oh ! what various, nameless arts, And how much necromancy. Did occupy those loving hearts. To circumvent " Miss Nancy ! " ROSE COTTAGE REMINISCENCES. 307 j IIow, in a trice, on many a night, That lawn became Sahara, ' As dawned on some fond couple's sight, The spectre of " Miss Sarah ! " .'I I recollect the serenade ; Was quite a favorite cover, j 'Neath which the old, old game was played \ 'Twixt lady-love and lover : | For, while the song allured each ear, j And melodies were blending, \ The hiLlets doux to windows near \ Were covertly ascending ! ! But as for me, I quite despised The rash, adventurous measures, By ardent lovers improvised For amatory pleasures. \ To me opposed no envious space j Those fairy realms to gain ; j For, 'tmxt them and my dweUing-place ] Was nothing but a lane. \ Lord ! how my heart went pit-a-pat, \ And all that sort of thing, As 'neath that portico I sat, \ To hear my charmer sing. 308 POEMS. I studied law, — or so professed, — But now, at this remove, The truth were just as well confessed, — I learned no law but love. yes ! I fell in love, of course ; But did not dare to tell it. For fear 'twould make the matter worse, Should my beloved repel it. 'Twere bad enough to lose my heart, But vastly better so. Than have my darling say " depart ! " And tell me — " not for Joe ! " And so, no doubt, it came about That when school-days were over, " That other fellow " found you out. And proved a bolder lover. But, sometimes, as my thoughts recur To that " Eose Cottage " garden, 1 heave one sigh for " hours that were," And feel Hke " Enoch Arden." S. B. S. LINES. 309 LINES. READ AT THE CLAM-BAKE WHICH WAS GIYEN AT THE RE- UNION OF THE FORTY-NINTH REGIMENT, MASSA- CHUSETTS VOLUNTEEES, AT PITTSFIELD, SEPT. 11, 1873. Strange ! how a clam, a closed-mouthed thing, and undeclamatory, Should make you all so clamorous for speech, or song, or story ; But observation goes to show, at divers times and places, The stillest fellows, oftentimes, turn out the hardest cases. A missive from the adjutant, a week or so ago, Announced that you would shell to-day your old bi- valvous foe ; And then, apparently to make the invitation louder. He added, with significance, "there'll also be clam- chowder !" He bade me join the festive crowd, and gulph a clam or two, Since, when the war was raging, I was on the Gulf with you. 310 POEMS. Said lie, " there'll be a cliowder mixt of mirth and \ speech and song, i And clams with toast, and toasts with clams; so, prithee, come along !" " Oh, no you don't ! " at first methought ; " I know .] what you're about — 1 You only want to ope my shell, and then, to draw , me out. I see what you are raldng for ; I do, by the Eternal ! And after you have shelled the clams, you mean to shell the Colonel! — And yet, upon reflection, it will never do," — thinks I — ' " To let so glorious a chance for feed and fun go by, | I'll chew upon 't ; for maugre all apologetic shams, \ Clam-av-i de jprofwndis — I am always death on clams !" { And so I come ; and knowing well how very apt I J am To overeat, and thus become as stupid as a clam, j I bring my post-coenatic toast, all ready- wrought in , song. Done up like clams, compact and round — I never ! liked them " long !" j LINES. 311 So here's to you, my gallant boys — old Berkshire's noble sons, Who erst amid the battle's din, stood firmly by the guns. And oft on many a well-fought field, made every " Johnny " stare, When something worse than clam-sheUs went career- ing thro' the air ! Bight bravely did ye clamber up the heights, where lurked afar The foe, amid the horrid din and clamor of the war; And over-stayed your term, until Port Hudson's pluck had died out, Resolved to break their boasted shell, and sworn to " clam the tide out !" Oh, how as yesterday they seem — the old f amiHar scenes, Of which we each and all were part, way down at New Orleans ! No shght fraternal kinship binds us henceforth to each other. In every one I recognize a comrade and a broth- er. 312 POEMS. A health to each and every one, and as tlie years roll round, May each one at the annual feast continue to be found, And live to see a grand career attend our Uncle Sam, And spend his days in sweet content, and — happy as a clam ! S. B. S. MILK 313 Extract from a poem entitled MILK. WRITTEN FOR THE SOCIAL AND LITERARY ENTERTAIN- MENT, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., JANUARY 6, 1870. We're sometliing like those funny fisli we see be- neath the tide, Which often, as we watch them close, display a whiter side. This whiter side, which seems a part of every human being. When once we get a gHmpse of it, is always worth the seeing. You think yourself familiar with some cross and crabbed neighbor, Because you see him come and go about his wonted labor. Till some day you shall meet him with his harness off, and mellow, And find him, to youi' great surprise, a downright genial fellow. I knew a man, I thought so mean, 'twas simply his to grovel, Until I caught him laughing o'er the contents of a novel ; 314 POEMS. And such a knack that fellow had, at anecdote re- peating, He'd turn into high carnival, the stiffest quaker meeting! Men's very foibles often make their most attractive features, To tell the truth — 'twixt you and me — I hate these perfect creatures ! I honor each embodiment of goodness, truth and meekness. But hang the chap who won't confess one amiable weakness ! The life of every mortal man is more or less a rid^ die,— Why, Nero must have had some soul ; because he played the fiddle ! The hardest, driest human plant which Nature e'er produces, Would not be human, did it not exude some frag- rant juices. All men are poets — it is said — and 'tis a saying trite, — There must be poets who can feel what other poets write ; MILK 315 All ! those unwritten hymns the soul unto itself hath sung, In tabernacles not of clay, may one day find a tongue ! The whiter side of every man — no matter how re- nowned, However brave, however great, or gifted, or pro- found — It is the side which gives the zest to biographic story, And rounds at least the hero's fame, and supple- ments his glory. The hero soon becomes a myth, who shows no whiter side ; Of whom grave history simply states, he lived and wrought and died ; Some altogether human traits their added light must shed. Or else, although his works survive, the man is very dead. His whiter side, when all the scenes of mortal life are past, I reckon will best satisfy the man himself at last. 316 POEMS. ; We may find sermons everywhere; — behold the ' fishes even, How, when they die, they always turn the whiter side to heaven ! j And now I come to tell you why we are, or should | be here — \ To sink our selfish selves, and let our better selves i appear ; ■ To linger for a little while on one of life's oases, \ And help each other cultivate our most redeeming | graces. \ Come, let us then be human, and deal gently with each other, j And find in every one a friend, and every friend a \ brother ; ' What sweets the cup of life affords, O let us freely share — 1 A few more kind or selfish deeds, and we shall be — j elsewhere ! i \ Here let us interchange the gifts vouchsafed us from | above. Of wisdom, wit, or melody, — at any rate, of Love, And have our hearts impregnated with Charity's \ sweet leaven, A httle purged of earthly dross — a little nearer Heaven. i MILK 317 ] i So, I've discoursed of milk ; like mercy's quality, not strained — \ From far beyond the milky-way, like gentle dew- ' drops rained ; » Perhaps the song has been obscure ; perhaps it was i your blindness — You recognize the theme at last — " The Milk of Hu- man Kindness." S. B. S. -\ 318 POEMS. GAGEOW. WRITTEN IN A GREEN HOUSE, UPON HEARING OF THE ILL- NESS OF A TENDER PLANT, WHICH HAD BEEN NURTURED IN A WARM CLIMATE. If the Dutch Flora thinks he floors, Or, if the Florid thinks he's floored, They know not well the subtle powers By which the brightest color's lowered. Far and Forgot are sweet with mist ; Shadow and sunHght, still I'm game ; My vanished head-piece struck Grow's fist ; He 'scaped ; I fell, but take the blame. They reckon ill who count me out ; "When quick I fly, I triumph bring ; I am the router and the rout — Alone the bully of the ring ! Galusha trespassed on our aisle, I knew not of his sacred art ; Now a meek Christian do I smile — I heard no sound, I feel no smart. GAGROW. 319 ARGUMENT. For ; If a Dutchman thinks he hits, Or, if the fallen feels a blow. They know not well the subtle pits That keep, and stub a brave man's toel C.A.Sc 320 POEMS. POEM, READ ON DECORATION DAY, AT BRIDGEPORT, CONN., MAY 30, 1869. Once again, O faithful comrades, we are welcoming the hour When the spring-time lingers only to resign her floral dower ; And with tenderest emotion, and with reverent steps, we tread "Wliere the proud earth shrines the ashes of our brave, heroic dead. In the hallowed burial-places, other loved and lost ones lie. But we do not heed their presence, as to-day we pass them by. And the harvest of the roses with a jealous hand bestow, Where the partners of our own best deeds are mould- ering cold and low. Let republics prove unmindful of the love they once professed. And withhold the meed of honor from their noblest and their best : POEM. 321 And to newer idols turn them with unseemly haste aside, And forget those who but yesterday so gloriously . died; We have sworn that long as unto us remembrances shall come Of the sad adieus to cherished ones, and dear de- lights of home ; Of the hardships of the prison, of the pestilence's ire, — Of the weary march, and battle's awful baptism of fire; That the comrades who endured with us the labor and the pain ; Who in youth's high flush went bravely forth, but came not back again. Shall be heroes of a treasured past, we shall not cease recall, Till ourselves shall clasp in close embrace the mother of us all ! And to all else we give pause to-day, that vernal flowers may bloom In a superadded beauty on the patriot's early tomb; 322 POEMS. And we gather 'neatli these fresh-clad boughs, that, vocal as of yore, Now rej)eat ^olian dirges for the brave that are no more! Nor with us alone to-day do scarred and shattered forms attend. Where the voices, sweet at once, and sad, of grateful memory blend; For in all the land, from Kennebec to Mississippi's shore, Do the roses shed their fragrance for the brave that are no more. And by many a widowed hand to-day, in mansion and in cot, Hath been twined the fair anemone with sweet forget-me-not ; And in many a nameless orphan-girl hath 'wakened proud desire, To assert, in this mute eloquence, the valor of her sire! O I the wealth of buried heroes that our nation boasts to-day, — In the soil where we were nurtured, on the prairies far away, — POEM. 323 In the town and in the hamlet, and by every moun- tain side, They are sleeping 'neath the altars for whose sanc- tity they died. But, my comrades, we would ne'er forget, nor could we if we would, Wliat a multitude unnumbered of our glorious brotherhood Are asleep in rude, unnoticed, undiscoyerable graves. In the regions that the Cumberland or Mississippi laves ; In the lone graves, hollowed darkly, where the camp- fires dared not burn. And by hands that on the morrow should be lifeless in their turn ; Or in trenches, where in hot haste, when the bat- tle's rage was spent. Horse and rider, friend and foeman, in red burial were blent ! Little dreamed he, youth ingenuous of twenty years ago. Gazing out upon a future with auroral hopes aglow, 324 POEMS. Tliinking only of a life-work, o'er which Peace her rays should shed, And of Death, beside the hearth-stone — children's faces round his bed ; — Little dreamed he, little dreamed ye, who had known him as ye thought, How much God-hke and heroic in his nature was inwrought. Which occasion should enkindle, till from mean and trivial things, He should rise to deeds that challenge envy in the breasts of kings ! Thus we sometimes may discover, how, Avhile prison- ers of time. From resources deep within us, we can make our Hves subhme ; And we see, although but darkly, and with dim and finite eye, When this chrysalism endeth, what we may be by- and-by ! Let them sleep, those nameless heroes, where so gal- lantly they fell, Where I seem to see the wild-flower bloom, their resting place to tell; POEM, 325 Where the earth, enriched with noble blood, seems dressed in brighter green, And our thoughts in ghostly forms to-day, are hover- ing o'er the scene ! And the wild-birds sing their requiem above their lowly graves. And the sad magnolia, weeping there, its solemn branches waves ; And the voices, inarticulate, of Nature's choir, de- clare That the soil around is hallowed ground, for the warrior dead are there ! Let them sleep, while roll the centuries in ceaseless tide away, Till at last the grand Eeveille sounds to usher in the day. When the whole of Earth's Grand Army shall be- take them to their rest. With the armies that encamp around the cities of the blest ! Let this hour repeat the lesson — ever old, yet ever new, — That at best we are but shadows, and what shadows we pursue. 326 POEMS, What are we among the millions of the universal spheres, That are going and are coming, through the wilder- ness of years ? Here to-day, the waves of Lethe we would gladly hold in thrall. But its dark, oblivious waters, must ere long enguK us all ; And our story in the distant future ages shall be told. As we tell of Babylonians, and Babylon, of old ! Yet we know there are implanted deep in every hu- man breast, Germs of noble aspiration, and mysterious unrest. The economy that shapes the orbs, yet notes the sparrow's fall. In the everlasting Drama, hath a part for each and aU. After all, then, life is earnest, and in life's severe re- view. Many years do not so signify, as what we are, and do ; For the years are oft-times squandered, gathering shells along the shore, While the ocean, undiscovered, lies in vastness just before. POEM> 327 These our heroes, who thus early sleep beneath the silent sod, Have Hved longer, as I reckon the arithmetic of God, Than the selfish one, whose days have eked out life's extremest span, Yet who never was accounted, and who never was, a man. Do not mourn, O stricken widow ; do not mourn, be- reaved sire, For the loved one, swift-ascended, pure from the funereal pyre ; As these flowers to-day betoken, scattered o'er his lowly tomb. In the Paradisean gardens, evermore his soul shall bloom ! In the lapse of generations, we shall surely be forgot — But I teU you that our actions, good or ill, shall per- ish not. As the stone sunk in mid-ocean, sends a ripple to each shore, So each deed, once done, is making larger circles evermore ! In the Begistry of Heaven, every act is noted down. And for every cross we carry, there is treasured up a crown ; 328 POEMS. And for every noble sacrifice is waiting a reward, And for each courageous soul, the benediction of its Lord. O ye shades of the departed ! if perchance ye hover near, Looking forth from yonder Heaven, our apostrophe to hear ; — Tarry not ; we bid ye rather to celestial bowers re- turn, While we only guard your ashes, safe in history's golden urn. Now from these sweet ceremonies, friends and com- rades, let us go. Somewhat wiser, somewhat better, and with hearts that overflow With a love, benign and catholic, whose promptings shall not cease Till we reach at last the Outposts, where the coun- tersign is " Peace ! " S. B. S. HYMN. 329 HYMN, SUNG ON DECORATION DAY, AT BRIDGEPORT, CONN., MAY 30, 1869. Air — pletel's hymn. Sound the dirge, the requiem sing ; Floral wreaths and garlands bring ; Scatter roses o'er each grave. Where in glory sleep the brave. Passed away before life's noon, — "Who shall say they died too soon ? Ye who mourn, O, cease from tears. Deeds like theirs outlast the years. Crown the sod with beauteous wreath, While our heroes sleep beneath. Softly, sweetly, let them rest. With our benedictions blest. Let our voices hymn their praise, — Martyrs of illustrious days ; While their spirits hover near. Pleased our grateful song to hear. 330 ^^^^'^• Lord of Hosts ! whose guardian care Both the dead and living share ; "When life's conflicts all are past, Bring us unto peace at last. S. B. S. POEM. POEM. 331 MEMORIAL DAY, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., MAY 30, 1870, AND AT STAMFORD, CONN., MAY 30, 1876. And now, my comrades, faithful still, again we wel- come here The saddest and the gladdest day of all the rolling year ; And come once more to decorate with sweet me- morial flowers, Tlie early graves, the honored graves, that haply had been ours. The grasses thicken o'er those graves : more thickly intertwined. The roots have grown above each form, the sacred sod to bind ; And so our common love hath grown a thing more hardly riven. And sturdier faith points upward to the heroes' rest in Heaven. On every hand, throughout the land, with measured tread, and slow, I seem to see our serried bands in sad procession go; 332 POEMS. And jet, not sad ; they do but go to bid the roses bloom, And plant the flag for which he died, above the soldier's tomb. But grander army, statelier pomp, and spectacle more rare, "With sweeter strains than here awake the circum- ambient air — Procession of the memories — the muse would lead this hour, But words are base interpreters, and song hath lost its power. And yet, as one some tiny seed on eager soil might throw, Whence some rare plant should quick upspring, and into beauty grow ; E'en so, perchance, some words of mine, almost at random strown. In every soul may help beget a poem of its own. We say this is "Memorial Day;" 'twere but a lost day then. Did we discern or heed no more than gTeets the outward ken. POEM, 333 The scene may gratify the sense ; grand may the pageant be, But O, 'tis neither all nor what we long to feel and see ! Our unobtrusive place in life we each resign to-day, The while our thoughts take rapid wing, and beckon us away; Swift vehicles of memory are translating us afar. As once again we share the pomp and circumstance of war. Once more we wear the blue, and wield the musket or the blade ; Once more at morn, the mounting guard — at eve the dress-parade ; Once more the drill, the camp-routine, inspection and review, Once more, at break and close of day, reveille and tattoo. And yet once more we hail the call to gallant feats of arms. And gather the experience of battle's fierce alarms, And watch the war-cloud's awful frc^Ti, and hear the shrieking shell. And view once more the blood-stained fields, where cherished comrades fell. 334 POEMS. Once more, sad little funerals are seen to wend their way, As one by one our martyr boys embrace their kin- dred clay ; Once more, by night, the bivouac beneath the starry dome, The silent prayer, the brief repose, the wistful dreams of home. O, tell me, in an hour like this, in what o'erwhelm- ing flood Do they not all return — those scenes of toil, and fire, and blood ! O, as we enter Memory's fane, and tread its echoing floors, What pictures line its walls ; what spectres haunt its corridors ! This day is theirs, and no less ours, who, from the hither shore Of that dark Stygian stream, beheld their spirits wafted o'er. The dead are with us ; we do feel their presence as a spell ; The memories we invoke are theirs, but yours and mine as well. POEM. 335 Nor theirs, nor ours alone, who did the brunt of battle bear, For in the rites we celebrate, yet other hearts must share. Ah ! not alone by those in martial panoply arrayed. Upon our country's altar were the sacrifices laid. The sire, who with his blessing bade his boy that last " good bye ;" The mother, who yearned after him, as he went forth, to die; The maid, who gave the honeyed kiss, as bravely from her side He hastened, who should ne'er return to claim her as his bride ; Or she, the mother of his babes, and partner of his life, Whose boon it was to bear for him the sacred name of wife; Who sadly — oh, how patiently ! — the weary months beguiled. And wears to-day the widow's weeds, and clasps the orphan child ; Have these no part in all the scene which greets the vision here? Shall we not hush while they bedew these garlands with a tear ? 336 POEMS. Have they no dear-bought right, these sweet observ- ances to keep,— - O'er which, if there be tears in Heaven, the pious angels weep? Alas! dear friends, sad thoughts must come this hour to each and all ; Somehow on every heart and home, the shadows seem to fall : Each breast some missing idol shrines, we would no- wise disown. Nor with iconoclastic hand dissever from its throne. And yet, somewhat of pride, I ween, awakes in every heart, Which feels that in this mighty grief it justly claims a part. Some Spartan spirit yet inspires : some patriotic glow Still warms the stricken breast, and bids it bravely bear the blow. In years to come, as older grown, the orphan boy shall read. How in some grand, terrific hour, was wrought some matchless deed; POEM. 337 O, what a flush of filial pride his radiant brow shall wear, If he can say to all the world ; " My father perished there ! " And JOM, my comrades, tell me now — how e'er your lines be cast, — As life is short, and you survey the record of your past ; — Say, is it not the darling thought in grateful mem- ory's store. In that our country's trying hour, the faithful part you bore ! 'Tis seven brief years, almost Ihis hour, with some of you I stood Before Port Hudson, midst a sea of carnage and of blood. A chief rode down the shattered lines, and kindled every brow With these proud words : " Press on, my boys ; you're making history now! " Thank God ! that history hath been made ; and brighter yet shall shine. As consummating ages roll, on blazoned page and line ; 338 POEMS. And mark in all the storied past, a most illustrious day, "Whose crescent influence shall be felt, when we have passed away. And now, dear friends, I know what fond emotions in each breast. At such a season still remain, voiceless and unex- pressed. Each heart in all this gathered throng goes some- where out alone. And seeks, beside some single grave, a treasure of its own. And here and there some noble deed, some few re- member well. Whose glory passed unheralded, and history shall not tell ; "Which, done by some pet general, had handed down his name To wondering posterities : so dear, so cheap is fame ! I mind me of a noble boy, whose mother's sad con- sent Enrolled him with the heroes of a gallant regi- ment ; P0E3L 339 Dark day for her, bright day to him, when that ca- reer began, — Sixteen years old, but every inch a soldier and a man ! There came the battle summons as in hospital he lay. Where yet the fever threatened to consume his life away ; The army moved ; the tidings reached the sick boy's ears anon ; — Straightway he rose : the dangerous way, alone, he followed on ! There came a call for volunteers, with musket and fascine, To first assault the hostile works, and fill the ditch between ; Whose courage in that solemn hour should stand the dreadful test ? The roll was quickly filled with names, — that boy's among the rest ! Next morn, awaiting hasty rites of sepulture, was laid A row of heroes — stark, cold forms — beneath the forest shada 340 POEMS. Each rigid face looked heavenward with fixed and stony stare, And — saddest sight of all to me — the noble boy lay there ! The blanket in his knapsack found, his winding-sheet was made, And, all uncoffined, in the trench his mangled corpse was laid ; With reverent hands the clods above his lifeless form were pressed, And so, his work well done, the youthful warrior was at rest ! Above his dust the stranger treads to-day, and heed- eth not ; I know in all that lonely waste I could not find the spot ; Yet, unforgetful of the life that boy his country gave, I tell you, here and now I place a wreath upon his grave ! So, each and all, bring flowers, bring flowers, whose perfume shall arif=;e From graves of heroes near and far, to scent the very- skies. MT AMANUEXSIS. 341 Where these our dead do live agam, and keep their blest abodes, And smiling Hebe serves for them the banquet of the gods. S. B. S. MY AMANUENSIS. INSCRIBED TO MISS LIZZIE HAND. A HANDSOME maiden here at my right hand, A sonnet for her album doth command. She's trebly handsome ; — for, you understand — She writes, and has, and is, a handsome Hand. To phrase it handsome ; — handsome little "Liz" Not only handsome does, but handsome is. S. B. S. 342 POEMS. SUNKISE FEOM THE SIEEEAS. The gentle lustre of the morning star, — The sweet submission in its fading rays The rising radiance of the golden bar, The eastern sky in grayish fields displays : The leaping up from some great sea of fire, Of mighty lances of resistless light, — Betokening the Day-King's fierce desire, "With martial pomp to slay the hosts of night ! C. A. S. FAREWELL HYMN, 343 FAEEWELL HYMN TO KEY. J. B. F- SUNG BY SUNDAY SCHOLARS, CHEIST CHURCH, BRIDGE- PORT, CONN., APRIL 17, 1870. Tune — SWEET hotje of pbatee. Farewell ! sad word repeated oft, As through life's pilgrimage we wend ; Farewell ! kind guardian of our souls, Beloved Pastor, guide and friend. Our infant voices gladly join In grateful blessings, ere we part ; And bid thee bear to other scenes, The thankful tribute of each heart. Thy faithful toil through all the years Here in thy Master's vineyard spent, This hour we linger to recall. With sad and glad emotions blent. And thou, where'er thy lot be cast. In sweet remembrances, we know This consecrated place shalt keep. And us, the friends of days ago. Farewell ! still in thy Lord's employ, Elsewhere his message mayst thou bring, 344 POEMS. And other young disciples teach His grace to seek, His praise to sing. O blessed work, and workman blest ! We bid thee Godspeed on thy way ; Glad be thy harvest, late thy rest In realms of everlasting day ! And in that day, and in those realms, May we at last together meet ; And, at the shining throne of God, Pastor and flock, each other greet. There, as the endless ages roll, May we in radiant splendor shine Among the jewels — ransomed souls — That deck the crown that shall be thine. S. B. S. HYMN, 345 HYMN. I SUNG AT DEDICATION OF JULIA SUMNER HALL, GREAT HARRINGTON, MASS., JUNE 28, 1871. Air — Gbeenyxlle. Now let gentle memory lead us, "Wliile this hour our thoughts recall Forms of loved ones who precede us Whither we are hastening all. "Weak we know our best endeavor, 'Gainst the Lethean wave to strive, Still with human fondness ever. Would we keep our dead ahve. His behest this hour obeying. Who, for sake of memory dear. Crowned an earnest life, essaying These memorial walls to rear. Thus we gather, while we Hsten To familiar tones of yore, And while eyes in sadness glisten, Here to ghsten neveimore ! Side by side they now are sleeping, — Sire and daughter, in the tomb ; Kindred from afar stand weeping, And all hearts are filled with gloom : 346 POEMS. She, in womanhood's first dawning, He, of ripe three score and ten. Both He waiting that bright morning, When God's own shall wake again. 'Neath the flow'rets o'er them blooming — Summer's verdure, winter's snows — Only faith our souls illuming, "We must leave them in repose. So, wherever God shall call us, Wide world o'er, our lines to cast, And whatever fate befall us. Death shall claim us all at last ! Father, sister, our sad pleasure, With fraternal, filial care. This fair cenotaph to treasure, So its walls your names shall bear ; And when loved ones gone before us, Wave for us their welcome wands. Each and all, may God restore us. To the " House not made with hands ! " S. B. S. PBOLOGUK 347 PKOLOGUE TO TABLEAU OF CAGLIOSTKO's MIRKOR, BEIDGEPORT, CONIT., OPERA HOUSE, DECEMBER, 1873. Kind friends, we bring jou, in a waif of rhjme, A curious story of the olden time. Know then, there Hved a hundred years ago. Where yet the Ai-no, and the Tiber flow, One Caghostro, by whose magic skill, Loved ones, and lost, were re-produced at will Upon his mirror ; which he did contrive. By sorcerer's art, to make the dead alive. Tradition adds : it pleased him to discover This power occult unto a sighing lover, — . Whose mistress, early snatched from his embrace, Among angehc beings had a place. So, one by one, within the magic glass, The youth beheld, m bright procession, pass Beings di^dne, recalled from their abodes In far-off regions, habited by gods. And, one by one, he saw, but to ignore, Until at last, the field of vision o'er A beauteous image moved ; and on him shone A rapturous glance, responsive to his own. 348 POEMS. No more, can Heaven itself the maid retain, Whom Love, transcendent woos to earth asrain 1 Mortal, but radiant with celestial charms, Once more she calls her idol to her arms! Enough : the story hath been briefly told, — What you have heard your eyes shall now behold S. B. S. POEM, 349 POEM, BEAD AT THE OPENING OF THE BRIDGEPORT OPERA HOUSE, DECEMBER 26, 1870. One moment let the play abide ; for 'fcis not meet to liear A stranger voice first break the spell, and greet th' expectant ear. Would some more graceful song than mine, its message might indite, To bid ye welcome, each and all, this glad, auspi- cious night ! This night 'tis mine {o speak to you first words of joyous cheer. Within these walls, we trust shall stand thro' many a prosperous year. Almost we know, when he who built, and we and ours are not, This temple still shall crown its site, and beautify the spot. All men are builders ; in their day all men must builders be Of some creation, good or ill, their fellow-men may see, — 350 POEMS, Of wood, or stone, or thought, or deed ;— some fabric they iQust give, To speak for them when passed away, and their own lives outhve. But, not to court didactic strain — I deem his fortune kind, Who, hence departing, haply leaves some monument behind. Built, not to crumble o'er his dust, apart from haunts of men. But to present him where he wrought, and living still as then. So I regard the rare old man, — our neighbor and our friend. Whose lot has been, amid these scenes, these fifty years to spend. And now on soil acquired by toil, in earlier, lustier days,— Postponer of a fruitful life, this cenotaph to raise. Events oft happen as we wend our way along time's shore, T\^iich bid us pause, and look behind, and round us, and before ; POEM. 351 And so, this night, we can but Hst to voices of the past, And scan the present, while we strive the future to forecast. So, with our aged friend, we take the wings of mem- And almost from its birth o'erlook this nineteenth century ; Behold the quiet ba}^ where here and there the sail boats ghde, While peacefully the hamlet sleeps, the watery waste beside. But less remote, the scene is changed, and now the busthng town, "With marts of trade and numerous spires appears, the slope to cro^Ti. On the horizon, far away, the eye discerns a speck ; — It nears ; the Nimrod ! and we see John Brooks upon the deck ! Again the panorama shifts; a city greets our ken. With freighted vessels at her wharves, and streets alive with men. 352 POEMS. And now we hear the engine's shriek, along Pequon- nock's shore : — George Griswolcl blows the stage-horn at the Frank- lin House no more ! One step — a lapse of twenty years — and now, upon the green, The massive halls of justice rise benignant o'er the scene ; Excited suitors help to swell the bustle and the din. And — sure sign of prosperity — how lawyers do flock in! Nearer we come, apace with time, until, on every hand. The palaces of industry — the mammoth workshops stand ; A busier aspect everywhere distinguishes the scenery, 'Mid rush and ring and roll and roar and rumble of machinery ! And meanwhile, — we begin to note, — arise on every side. Abodes of wealth and luxury, magnificence and pride ; POEM. 353 And, better still, abodes we see, whose plain exterior tells Where modest means keep " home, sweet home," and frugal comfort dwells. The school-house rears a loftier front ; the church more grandly towers ; (I say my prayers at old St. Johns ; — of course I don't mean ours.) The Library out-grows its shell ; the city hall looks gayer, It's " some" to be a councilman ; it's famous to be mayor ! Esthetic taste is manifest ; the city's pride and boast Are centred in the loveliest park on all New Eng- land's coast. Kind charity opes wide her doors ; the orphan need not roam, Nor widow weep : here each may find a haven and a home. The alms-house wears a winsome look ; and often- times, when floored By impecuniosity, I'm wondering how they board — 354 POEMS. Nay more, 'tis pleasant to reflect, when all resources fail, And worse grows worst ; one refuge still — a most de- liglitful jail ! The city borders widen out, and every truant son Who souglit a Fairfield fur his home — we cap- tured eveiy one! Our Black Rock neighbors deemed it first a chasten- ing from the Lord ; They've now some sixteen candidates for Alderman, First Ward!^ Across the harbor, hope deferred long saw an un- couth ridge ; But now it bears symmetric shape, and Bridgeport boasts a bridge. Right glad the muse records its birth, and gives it place in rhyme ; Long may it stand, and long defy old Ocean and old Time! Now, shall we lift the envious veil wherethro' we dimly see. And in our fancy, picture forth the city that shall be, ♦Allusion to annexation of a part of Fairfield to Bridgeport. POEM, 355 "When fifty superadded years shall shed their leaves and snows, Still making the waste place rejoice, and blossom as the rose? "Well may we hope, that long as Peace shall hold her gladsome reign. And Industry her hosts deploy throughout her vast domain. This busy port, so close beside the gateway of the world. May write " Excelsior " on its flag, and keep its folds unfurled. Meanwhile, as other structures rear their walls on every hand. This edifice, unspoiled of time, and beauteous still, shall stand. Tradition says, its site was once the dowry of a bride. We prize it as the builder's gift to us, this festal- tide. Here, many and many a year, as generations come and go. Science and art shall prophecy, and wit and wis- dom flow ; 356 POEMS. Here eloquence shall charm the ear, and melody outpoui*, While roll the seasons, and when we shall tread life's stage no more. For so we go ; our life is all a drama and a dream — The muse would gladly linger still to dwell upon the theme. I crave your pardon ; you shall see blithe Ida Yernon soon; Years gone, 'twas my delight to hear her play " The Honeymoon!" And now — interpreter between recipients and giver — For him, — long life and walk serene, this side of Jordan's river ; For you; — with patriarchal love, he greets your presence here. And bids you " Merry Christmas," and a " Happy, Glad New Year !"^- S. B. S. * The Opera House was erected by the venerable Lewis C. Segee, present on the occasion, but since deceased. I HOPE TO HEAE SPEEDILY FROM YOU, AFTER WHAT I TRUST WILL BE A PROSPEROUS VOYAGE TO AND SAFE ARRIVAL IN AMERICA." ^^^i^^^ 1 i-vA.^^ m MEMORIAM. 357 IN MEMOEIAM.^ O PRICELESS hours were thine and mine. Dear Brother ! in that far off land, Where last, together, hand in hand, We stood beside the banks of Khine. Together, through the storied halls Wliere Art its lavish treasures brings ; Amidst the homes and tombs of kings ; Within renowned Cathedral walls. We strayed ; until where, grim and hoar, Old Heidelberg its tale repeats, And Neckar aye his Brother meets, We parted, who should meet no more. I know it now, how I did yearn From those loved scenes to bid thee come ; And o'er wide ocean bring thee home. Nor speak " Farewell," but plead " Eeturn !" 'Twas all imselfish ; for methought How unto gentle studies wed. And how by fine ambition led. Thou would'st not leave thy work unwrought. * Perished at the wreck of steamship Atlantic, off Halifax, April 1st, 1873, Albert Increase Sumner. 358 POEMS. So, tarrying in that glorious land, — Where heavenly music seems foretold. And pours its floods o'er shrines of gold, I gave to thee the parting hand. Since then, with fond fraternal care, — Expectant of bright days to come, A throne within my own dear home, — I've kept for thee the waiting chair. Within Westminster's gorgeous Urn, Last litany thou didst repeat ; Then swift foreran the message sweet, — . The harbinger of glad return. Now in famihar Minster walls The Organ waits thy wizard hands, And tuneful choir, thy skilled commands To hail the Easter festivals * My God ! as thunderbolt the shock ! Too well I knew that gentle form Could ne'er withstand the furious storm. The frenzied wave, the heartless rock. * Albert was returning from Europe, to fill an engagement aa organist in St. John's Church, Bridgeport, Conn. IN MEMORIAM. 359 I madly cried : " Can God be good, And grudge that little meed of care From His Omnipotence ; nor spare My darling from the dastard flood? And He who walked the billoTvy sea Aforetime ; and, with shining hand Did wave majestical command, And whisper * Peace ' on Galilee ; — Could He not, with benignant arm, Uplift from out that yawning grave One more — ^just one — and pitying save That tender, harmless bov from harm ? '* 'Tis past, and I am calmer now. As here, upon this moaning shore, He Ues so still ; and bending o'er, I note such calmness on his brow, . And, in that better " Fatherland," Faith pictures Albert, disenthralled ; — Among the heavenly choirs installed ; — An angel's harp is in his hand ! S. B. S, Halifax, N. S., April 7, 1873. 360 POEMS, THE DIAL. "We separate ; the girls and boys divide — Eacli to a place distinct, or quite alone ; Oiir ruthless passions 'neath the altar hide The sacrifices, till the hours are flown. We hear by chance, in a far distant land, That John and Mary have long since been wed ; The babes we left, at manhood's portals stand, And ah, God help us ! some sweet friends are dead. Then comes a flood of unrestrained grief ; Upon our past, our common hours, we dwell. Our retrospect is cheated of relief. Remorse encircles like the flames of hell. But Heaven will help us ; as we meditate. One star sheds comfort, and our pangs abate. C. A. S. LINES, 361 LINES, BEAD AT A DINNER OF FAIEFIELD COUNTY BAE, CON- NECTICUT, GIVEN TO CHIEF JUDGE ORIGEN S. SEY- MOUR, FEBRUARY, 1874.^ [Judge Brewster, of the Court of Common Pleas, was called on to respond to the toast '^ Courts of Limited Jurisdiction ;" hnt he said Judge Sumner presided over a court of still more limited jurisdiction than his own, though it is one which Sumner claims is the court of last resort ; whereupon Judge Sumner responded as follows : — Bridgeport Standard.'\ I KNEW, I knew these lively chaps would stop at nothing short Of seeking, in this dreadful strife, the court of last resort ; — In other words, the court that waits the drainage of life's cup. And then inquires, for all his pranks, how much the man " cuts up." * This dinner was tendered to Chief Justice Seymour on his re- tirement from the Bench, — he having reached the age of seventy- years, which — very absurdly — disqualifies one from holding ju- dicial office in Connecticut. The Court being in session, all the judges were present, and speeches were made by the succeeding Chief Justice, Hon. John D. Park ; Ex-U. S. Vice-President, La- fayette S. Foster ; Judge Woodruff, of the U.S. Circuit Court ; Governor Charles E. IngersoU ; Hon. G. H. Hollister ; Col. Nel- son L. White, State Attorney, and many others. Hon.J.C. 362 POEMS. I tell you, when you probe the Court of Probate, you shall find, In consequence of consequence, it isn't far behind. It wants a man of parts, be sure, to understand the rules, To care for all the widows, and the infants, and the fools. I magnify my office, then, as everybody should, — And say that, in a quiet way, I'm doing heaps of good. It's all the speech I'll make for my constituents' dis- section ; You see it's only two months hence, there'll be a new election. But this is neither here nor there ; I chiefly rose to say How pleased I am to meet our proud Fraternity to- day. And help entwine a graceful wreath around his hon- ored brow. Who, having fought a noble fight, puts off his armor now. Loomis presided, and made the intreductory speecli . At a subse- quent meeting of the Fairfield County Bar, a committee was ap- pointed to publish all the proceedings in a permanent form ; but as the committee (of which the author of these lines was a mem- ber) has never done its duty, these remarks will not be deem- ed out of place. LINES. 363 Thrice blest the man who, counting up his three score years and ten, Presents a model in himseK, unto his fellow men ; And in the plenitude of all his varied, ripened pow- ers, Beholds a gladsome retrospect of unneglected hours ; And, gazing forward, can discern a pleasant pilgrim- age Ado-^Ti the smooth dechvities of a serene old age ; Assured that, when his day is done, he shall but sink to rest, As summer sun, ^\dtli all his radiant banners, in the west. E'en such the man, whose patriarchal presence here we greet. As round the festive board to-night, his fond disci- ples meet. To here pronounce o'er him our benedictive word " well done ! " And for ourselves uplift the prayer, " God bless us, every one ! " Let wiseacres and shallow fools deny the truth who can, The thorough lawyer can but be, and is, the tho- rough man. 364 POEMS. "What cultured gifts must all combine, and in his being blend, Not all mankind, I ween, are fit to gauge or compre- hend. What arduous toil, what anxious care ; how rigorous the school Wherein our jealous mistress holds us subject to her rule, Is ours, who strive our best within this sphere of life to go. Let those, and those alone, recount, who best can feel and laiow. I've made a brief upon this point ; and from statis- tics, say — The lawyers, of professionals, do most for smallest pay. The average lawyer — overhaul the record, and be sure — Works always hard, — ^lives pretty well, — and goes to Heaven, poor. And yet we lead a pleasant life ; the company is good. And gentle fellowship obtains within our brother- hood. LINES. 365 Exceptions but confirm the rule ; and, take us all together, A nobler band, I dare declare, were never bound by tether. And all the world, whate'er it says, respects the le- gal calling. And must confess, that but for us, its state would be appalling ; The very man who finds in our pursuit the biggest flaw. If he can boast a boy with brains, -^dll have him study law ! My time is up, — a health to all ; and unto him ere- while Our honored chief ; who now returns to join the rank and file, — Long Hf e ; — and when in heavenly courts he stands at last, be then His children's children's proudest boast — illustrious Origen ! S.B. S. 366 POEMS. POEM, READ AT A DINNEE GIVEN TO P. T. BARNUM, AT ATLANTIC HOTEL, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., 1874. I'm no pianist ; ne'ertheless a psean I must sing This night in honor of our guest, the famous Money King; The man who keeps informing us that poverty's a blunder, And rolls up wealth before our eyes, while we look on and wonder. If Alfred Mantalini could have chanced this man to see. His first ejaculation must have been, as you'll agree, " Of all demnition wonderments that swell his fame and pelf. There never was a demnder one than Barnum is, himself!" There*s no such thing as ciphering the gauge of such a man; To-day its business in New York — to-morrow in Japan : One day beneath the sea, to find some learned, lovely shark, — The next, way off, on Ararat, for pieces of the Ark I POEM, 367 1 Sometimes lie calls for quarter, with the giant Fe- Fo-Fum ; ' And then again he captures us with General Tom . Thumb; | One day in Bridgeport, staking out new streets across j his farm, The next, in Windsor Castle^ with Victoria on his arm. One day upon the prames, looking out for freaks of ' nature ; J The next, in Hartford, speech-making before the ^ legislature ; j One day, the Bearded Woman ; next, the Mermaid i with her comb ; And now, the Hippopotamus, and now, the Hippo- ] drome. j To-day, recalling from the deep, oblivious shades of death. And so, rejuvenating and rejoicing old Joyce Heth ; • To-morrow, showing all at once, the wondrous twins : of Siam, And Julius Caesar's boxing-gloves, and fish-pole used j by Priam. One day, the fiery element his big Museum slashes. But next day, lo ! it rises as a Phoenix from its ashes ; | 368 POEMS. And while the croakers shake their heads, and dubi- ously figure, The Crocodile gives broader smile, — the show keeps growing bigger! I never, nevek, saw his like ; and so I might as well Give o'er at once the vain attempt all his exploits to tell; It's all recorded — read of all — on everybody's shelf ; " Biogi-aphy of P. T. Barnum, written by him- self." There's not a journal round the world, whose col- umns haven't known him ; Nor board-fence, on whose superfice, bill-posters haven't shown him. No savage or philosopher ; no Gentile, Greek or Eoman, But knows of this ubiquitous, inevitable showman. But " showman " though he style himself, we know the word but tells A vulgar fraction of what force within his manhood dwells. An orator of wide repute, a poet and a preacher, An author and an editor ; a student a,nd a teacher ; FOEM. 359 A wit, of never failing fund within his storehouse ample ; Of Temperance, ahke renowned Apostle and ex- ample ; Philanthropist, with human kind, not merely sym- pathetic, But generous and bountiful, and grandly ener- getic ; And last— by no means least— of all ; — and that is why we come Thus heartily to welcome him — a lover of his home; A home that proudly crowns to-day a whilom barren waste, — The triumph and the marvel now of fine gesthetic taste. But prouder monument for him ; within the city's bound. Full many a score of happy habitations may be found. Whose owners will not soon forget the prudent head that planned The homes they ne'er had builded, but for Barnum's helping hand ! 370 POEMS. Ob ! when tlie leaf of human life is turning sere and yellow. One's best reflection can but be, that he has served his fellow. How many a man had been a wreck, whose fate had quite undone him, If Barnum hadn't raised, and put wheels under him, and " run " him ! Now if our fellow-citizen had been a sordid hunks, Who hoarded all his treasures in old stockings, and in trunks, We simply should have set him down a flinty-hearted sinner, Instead of voting him a " brick " and complimental dinner. And so we wish it understood, and thoroughly in- ferred ; — These testimonials of esteem — we mean them, every word. We toast not wealth, nor simply brains ; but, as we proudly can, — The qualities that always make the hero and the man. POEM. 371 Long life and health to him and his, to do and gather good ; And when at last he shall be called to cross the Stygian flood, Surviving friends with tearful eyes, beholduig him embark, Shall place his statue, I predict, within the Seaside Park ; And every boy who looks thereon, the record shall review. And learn what steady Yankee pluck and industry can do ; And as our city grows apace, an ever crescent fame. As halo, shall surround her pristine Benefactor's name. And meanwhile, he'll be ransacking the Universe for " stars," And lay a cable through the air from Jupiter to Mars, And institute a comet-race, on some tremendous wager. And cage up Taurus, Scorpio, the Whale, and Ursa Major ; 372 POEMS. And hire the Twins — oh Gemini ! — to manage a balloon, And make an exliibition of the old man in the moon ; And in the vast arena, pit the Siclde of the Lion Against the vaunted sword and belt of arrogant Orion ; And, finally, discovering the brink of Hades' crater, Put out the conflagration with his Fire Annihilator ; Exorcise from the neighborhood, the " cussed " imps of evil. Nor rest, till he has raised, reformed, and then — en- gaged — the Devil ! S. B. S. MARTYRDOM IN THE TEMPLK 373 MAKTYKDOM IN THE TEMPLE. A BEBKSHIBE BALLAD. It was the town of Otis, — It was a Sabbath day, To which I call your notice In sympathetic way. An August sun was shining. In temper most intense ; The clock was near defining When service should commence. At chapel we were greeted, — My Brother Sam and I, — With courtesies, and seated Conspicuously high. A stall-pew on the bow aisle, Assigned to us alone. Presented us in profile, As victims on a throne ! For every waiting creature, Who knew the native sire,* On each resembhng feature Must searchingly inquire. * Our father, Increase Sumner, was a native of Otis. 374 POEMS. With painfullest reflection, Concerning how and why "VVe were on this inspection, Sat Brother Sam and I. With Corsican refinement Of mutual sense of woe, We kept up our ahgnment, — Well, how I do not know. But there, our fate bemoaning, We silently implored The help the Rector's coming Would naturally afford. And when the aggregation Of thoughts we must defy Suggested suffocation, Or some explosive cry ; — Bight then, when for the Bector We could have jumped and cheered, At fartherest door a spectre Obtrusively appeared ! Forthwith our whole attention Was conquered and converged : The act of apprehension Foregoing fears submerged. MARTTBDOM IN THE TEMPLK 375 A tall and slender woman ; Not less than seventy-five ; Who looked just less than human, And scarcely more 'n alive. She was so slim and bony ; The blood so spare in her ! A true synchronous crony For the ancient mariner. Her bodice had descended From portraits of Queen Bess ; But many fashions blended Throughout her satin dress. A reticule of netting Was dangling from her waist ; A brooch of oroide setting Eesplendent gleamed with paste. A climbing ivory jocko Adorned the shade she lugged ; And, bound in red morocco, A prayer-book huge she hugged. In color of the carrot, Her ringlets were aflame ; In pattern of the parrot, Her nose was much the same. 376 POEMS. Her eyes were fierce reminders Of sprite and goblin dreams ; Her glasses, flanked by blinders, "Were cased in tortoise beams. But speech seems disappearing. And memory shrinks with dread, "When I approach the gearing She wore upon her head. It was a close-thatched lean-to ; It was a prompter's lair ; It was a sounding screen to An olden bishop's chair. It was a miller's crater ; It was a tavern shed ; It was a radiator For gas-lights overhead. It was a Leghorn tunnel, Resembling in degree. The ventilating funnel Of steamships of the sea. The trimmings on a fraction Of that stupendous plan, "Were fit to cause distraction In simple-minded man. MARTYRDOM IN TEE TEMPLE. 377 Across the skull-close bonnet, And slightly up the grade, With spangled gauze upon it, Were knots of crimson braid. Between these cones upspringing, Were gi^asses, leaves and stalks ; Two blue-jays, couched for singing, Surmounted hollyhocks. It was a dreadful vision ; — Flashed on us all in all, With that acute precision Most Kkely to appall. She paused a moment, — blocking That narrow doorway ; then Recovered from the shocking. Our woe began again. She turned her awful awnino- at As she advanced apace, And caught us without warning, And held us, — face to face. And drawing near the pulpit, Her calcium hghts were seen i To blaze on either culprit In incandescence keen ! 378 POEMS. And when in act of kneeling, Slie still maintained her glare, We trembled ; and the feeling Was not akin to prayer. And when the verse for quiet Was solemnly intoned, "Please read the act for riot ! " My brother faintly groaned. The fire of our affliction Abated not a jot ; From psalm to benediction 'T was more intensely hot. Full oft a spell mesmeric Was fastened on us twain, Till on the brink hysteric I caught my reeling brain. By reverent recitation. By vaulting tricks of thought, By back enumeration, DeHvery was sought. Perhaps the earnest struggle Had braved the general stare ;- But sacred plea, nor juggle, Obscured her anywhere. MARTYRDOM IN THE TEMPLE, 379 Call this a profanation, — A mockery and a sin ? Eetributiye temptation In God's house will begin ! Why ended not that session In ignominious race, Requires a deep confession Of mystery and grace. Who e'er in judgment sitteth ; How far excused or blamed : — " Survival of the fittest," May reasonably be claimed. C. A. S. 380 POEMS. MY BEOTHEE'S EING. It glistens not with ruby, Nor flaunts the diamond's glare, Nor emerald nor sapphire Bedecks the ring I wear. Of simple gold 'tis fashioned, And on its sable seal, The family initial Is all it doth reveal. Yet not a gem that sparkles Afar on India's strand, Or blazes on imperial brow, Or proudly sceptered hand, So precious a memento. So priceless boon could be, As you shall know, but listen. This bauble is to me. Within the Palais Eoyal, — For seeming miles ablaze, As fabulous Aladdin's To court the 'wildered gaze, — He told us he had bought it, "With reverent desire. 3£Y BROTHER'S RING. 381 To wear it as a token In memory of his sire. And so he kept and wore it ; I saw it on him last, As o'er the keys of melody His fingers deftly passed. As rolled the swelling volume Of sound, my eyes grew dim ; I wept to see the signet, But not — not then — for him ! Alas ! within a twelve-month, On that disastrous shore, "Whose very rocks are shedding Then- tears forevermore. Brave ship and base commander Bushed fearfully awreck. And fearfully and wildly Bushed hundreds to the deck ! And shivering and shuddering. In darkness, cold and storm. Amid that doomed assemblage There stood our poor boy's form ; And as he leaped in horror And vain hope to withstand 382 POEMS. The mocking waves that clasped him, This ring was on his hand ! Far down within the caverns, — Drear tenements of death, — To note the last pulsation, The last expuing breath ; — Forever mute, mute witness ! Thou knowest, but dost spare Those tales — hads't thou but language- Of heart-break and despair ! Eude hands from out those caverns, The precious corse upbore, And tenderly disposed it Upon the pitying shore. Kind strangers and survivors Saved all for us with care ; — All, all they could — his body, This ring ; a lock of hair ! The months have flown and vanished. And in the haunts of men I move, and ofttimes gaily Discourse with tongue or pen ; But sadness, like a shadow, In night-watch and alone. MY BROTHERS RING. 333 Unceasingly steals o'er me, And claims me for its own, — And sometimes, as, abstracted, I gaze upon this ring, The home of childhood re-appears, The scenes of life's bright spring : — Sire, mother, sisters, brothers. Gone hence beyond the sky ; — I feel we all must meet again, I almost long to die. It ghstens not with ruby, Nor flaunts the diamond's glare. Nor emerald nor sapphire Bedecks the ring I wear ; Yet naught so dear memento, So priceless boon could be. As this sad tale hath told you This bauble is to me. S. B. S. 384 POEMS. POEM, DELIVERED AT THE ANNUAL BANQUET OF ST. GEORGE'S SOCIETY, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., APRIL 22d, 1875. Now I'm a Yankee, bom and bred, as any one may guess. Who gives a moment's heed to what my Hps and looks express ; But every Johnny Bull I hail as cousin — nay, as brother, And while Columbia calls me "son," Britannia's my mother ! Indeed it makes one smile to think how races sub- divide. And seek their ancient individualities to hide ; As if a hundred years or two could so outspread the tree. The branches couldn't find the root, or trace their pedigree ! Each son of these bom Englishmen, Hke son of mine, must be A genuine American ; it can't be helped you see ; But each and all, — we still may trace the same his- toric line ; Eecall the days of " auld " — and not so very " auld — ^lang syne." POEM. 385 And "EngHsh," "Teuton," "Scot," or "Celt," or " Yankee " — what's a name ! A bridge across the paltry years, and we are all the same. And here, according naught but love to Kaiser or to Queen, We work new problems, whose results are with the Great Unseen. So, starting with our brotherhood, I think we can To quaff the cup of fondness for the Isle across the sea ; The Isle, whereto, where'er the fifth of all Earth's peoples roam, With faithful love their hearts revert, as their an- cestral home. The very " hub " of all the earth ; commanding, as of course. Centripetal, centrifugal, and every other force ; " Whose morning drum-beat, — comrade of the troop- ing hours and sun, — Sounds one reveille round the world, until the day is done ! " A mound upon the globe's expanse, which other- wheres upsprung. Might simply have supported wives and saints for Brigham Young ; 386 POEMS. But as the wondering Frenchman cried, its potency to see, — " Zat leetle patch of earth is one vast meeracle to me!" As empires of the Orient, her history fades away, Far back among traditions of a half-forgotten day ; And when the Sphynx itseK its hidden story shall unfold. Then, only then, the origin of Stonehenge shall be told! What armies, from great Caesar's time, with awful tread have trod Athwart her soil, and fought above, and slept be- neath her sod ; What navies, charged with thunderbolts from out her flaming forge. Have borne, transcendent, round the world, the ban- ner of St. George ! What Art and Science in her halls have found aus- picious birth. To educate, to civilize,. and gladden all the earth; What speech hath made her forums thrill ; what bards sublime have sung Immortal measures to embalm for aye her classic tongue I POEM. 387 What monuments on every hand record historic things ; — Cathedrals, builded to enshriue sarcophagi of Kings; Tombs, so renowned, that in their midst, in royal state to lie, What Albion's son, but craves the boon deserviugly to die! And statues, that commemorate their ever deathless dead. And castles hoar, with amaranthine memories o'er- spread. And palaces, within whose courts earth's noblest ones have stood. And towers, whose moated battlements have soaked heroic blood ! But no effete, decaying realm evokes our laudful song; Within her bounds to-day, what homes of wealth, of comfort, throng ; What industry, what enterprise, throughout her pent confine, Hold sovereign reign, from Isle of Wight to New- castie-on-Tyne ! 388 POEMS. What commerce, at her teeming ports, awaits each fav'ring gale, What network o'er her fair expanse, of highway and of rail ; What bustling cities everywhere ; and then, — the whole to crown, — Immense, imcomprehensible, bewildering London town ! O, whoso in a single glance, and in a breath of time. Would gaze on stores consolidate of every land and clime. And note a thousand things, his every school-boy book recalls, — Ascend the dome, and reach with me the summit of Saint Paul's ! There, rolls beneath, the teeming Thames, by mighty bridges spanned, And Ludgate slopes to Temple Bar, and Fleet street and the Strand — And just beyond is Charing Cross, from out whose station run Incessant locomotive trains, like missiles from a gun. POEM, 389 Beyond, the halls of Parliament and Westminster you see. There's St. James Palace, Buckingham, and Marl- borough, all three. This way, Trafalgar Square, and Nelson's Monument you know ; There's PicadHly; there's Hyde Park; Pall-mall and Eotten Eow. Come back by way of Oxford street, past Lincoln's, and Gray's Inn ; Again you near the " City," and you catch the roar and din; While now and then, above it all, mellifluously swells The tocsin of the Cockney's soul — sweet, musical Bow-Bells! Past Cheapside, stands the Bank, whose notes do not behe their worth. But speak for English gold in every corner of the earth. Hard by, Lord Mayor's Mansion House ; and in the Mart between, The L:on Duke on Lron Horse, o'erlooks the whirHng scene. 390 POEMS. And here, Cornhill, Threadneedle and King "William streets converge ; Innumerable multitudes, like waves and billows surge; And rampant men and rampant steeds contend with mad uproar. And thunder over London Bridge, and all along the shore. And farther east — O let us pause with vision rapt awhile ! — In seeming isolation there, looms up that sombre pile,— Long time the seat of kingly pride, and kingly lust and power — It stands, — ^with walls whose very stones do seem to speak, — the Tower ! And now, one glance on Surry side, vast workshops to behold — Whose myriad chimneys belch T;heir flames, and smoky clouds unfold; While Crystal Sydenham illumes the far horizon's crest, — Besplendent Diamond, blazing there, on Albion's buxom breast ! POEK 3gi There ! that will do ; and now, my boys, I'll take my seat and hat. To sing aU night, I couldn't turn a neater verse than that ; — Shake hands aU round ! brmg cakes and ale ; this once, ourselves we'll gorge. And give the tankard one long pull, for England, and St. George I S. B. S. 392 POEMS. LINES, READ AT EE-UNION OF CONNECTICUT VETEBANS, AT HARTFOED, CONN., 1875. I KNOW precisely what you want : you thought 't would do for me, — As being what we lawyers call, a sort of an " ex re," To hold position, by brevet, in this association. And so contribute to the flow of mutual admiration. I'll do it ! from my childhood's hour — I mean since I was fledged. And hung my hopeful shingle out, seductively gilt- edged — I've always said " give me, beneath the aegis of our laws, A first-class chent, one strong fact, and I'll insure the cause ! " So, hailing from the old Bay State — God bless her, there she stands ! I clasp with unfeigned pride to-day, adopted broth- ers' hands ; And fain, from out these flowers of hope and memo- ry that throng, Would weave, so you might bear it hence, a fragrant wreath of song. LINES, 393 But where, in all the blooming fields of your illus- trious story, Shall I cull out, most redolent, the roses of your glory ? I read the faithful record o'er with wonder and amaze. Of this one little plucky State in those eventful days. I read the roll of martyred dead ; and in the fore- most van, Behold one, who so early gave " assurance of a man," Chivalric Ellsworth ! o'er whose corse, with new resolve ujDrose The warrior legions of the North, to smite the na- tion's foes. And I behold, in retrospect, another manly form, Which, all too soon, fell prone beneath the battle's angry storm ; The gentle scholar, born to tread serener paths to fame ; — But brighter halo than he dreamed encircles "WiN- THEOp's name. One foremost martyr still, our verse may not this hour forget ; Whose life-sun, like a meteor fall'n, in sudden splen- dor set ; — 394 POEMS, Of simon-pure Colonial stock, the briglit, consum- matic scion, — O, favored Commonwealth, that shrines his dust — heroic Lyon ! To Sedgwick, Foote, and all the rest, whose names to ns belong, — Whose lengthened roll transcends by far the limits of our song, — Not unremembered, do our hearts go proudly foiih to-day. And yield their throbbing benisons above their hal- lowed clay. Go now with me, where'er the shock of battle rends the air ; Aloft, defiant, you shall see the tri-vined banner there ; The first unfurled at New Orleans, and waving in the blast Its saucy folds at Bull Eun, o'er the first gun and the last ! The first on Mississippi's soil ; the first to kiss the breeze Beneath the "sacred shadows" of the staid pal- metto trees ; LINES. 395 Among the first to cross Long Bridge ; where, — al- most terror dumb, — The gentry cried, " they come ; great guns ! the nut- meg Yankees come ! " The first " forlorn hope " volunteers to cross Port Hudson's verge, — Pit honor to your brave Thirteenth, and gallant General Birge ! — Nay, first, your own historians say, when Richmond's flag went down. To leap triumphant o'er its walls, and greet the cap- tured town ! O, noble record of a State, upon whose shield be- fore Had shone, emblazoned, deathless deeds of patriot men of yore ; O, Mother of a glorious race, whose loyalty, the same Through all the years, could only add fresh laurels to thy fame ! And now, a grander spectacle, to all the earth we show, — As, in the peaceful walks of life, once more we come and go J 396 POEMS. Nay, as, once more, in friendly grasp, fraternal hands entwine, — And whilom foemen gladly meet as brothers of lang syne! The dream is past ; so let it fade ; — the hideous, dreadful dream ; — The night is o'er ; so let us hail the morning's rose- ate gleam. O'er all the land once more behold the starry flag unfurled, — Whose radiant sheen, now all undimmed, shall yet illume the world ! S, B. S. POEM. 397 POEM, BEAD AT SILYER WEDDING OF HON. AND MRS. WM. D. BISHOP, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., OCTOBER 21, 1875. Ring out, ye joyous marriage-bells ! ring out your silvery chimes ; And wake, this hour, the memories of other days and times ; Of days and times since first we saw this newly pHghted pair Set forth together, all the joys and ills of Hfe to share. I see them now ; he, freshly forth from academic bowers. Aglow with hope, alert with zeal, assured of ripen- ing powers ; She, foreordained a heart Hke his to captivate and win. By charms that could but half reveal the loveher soul within. It was a gladsome spectacle ; the future seemed so fair, And life was all rose-color then unto the youthful pair; 398 pomis. Yet not so glad, so picturesque, so eloquent a sight, As, 'neatli the fav'ring smiles of Heaven, we witness here to-night ! For time, each year's development so kindly did unfold, That all, and more, is reahzed, than early hope fore- told ; And bride and groom, we dare to say, as swift years have floAvn o'er. Have learned to honor and to love each other more and more. "We know the charm of youthful hope — I mean, we " old folks" do, "Who, five and twenty years ago, had found it " sweet to woo ;" But Hope stands always at the prow, and holds more sure command. When brave Fruition sits astern, and lends a help- ing hand. The youth and maid could promise fair ; — of course, they always do ; — But time alone can tell if they shall keep their promise true. POEM. _ 399 Ah ! many a wedding day has dawned with bright auroral glow, And been the prelude of a life of bitterness and woe. And therefore, with enhanced dehght, and with pe- culiar pride, As five-and-twenty years have sped, we greet this groom and bride ; And as we note how pleasantly their wedded lives have run. Pronounce with hearty joy the benedictive words, " weU done ! " No doubt they've had their small disputes ; no doubt, in their dominion, They each may now and then have had a " contrary opinion." Mayhap, as somewhat tardily, some night he did come in. He had to hear those dreadful words : — " My dear ! where have you been ? " Perhaps, sometimes, he thought he felt a spasm of distress, At figures, for what seemed to him a quite superflu- ous dress ; 400 POEMS. But when the fabric was made up, the sum grew less alarming, And he was ready to agree " she never looked so charming ! " Such conjugal asperities as these two may have had, Have evidently left no trace or record that is sad. Each one the heart's desire has seemed so nicely to fulfill, That while he seemed to have his way, she always had her "Will!" Ten years ago, the compliment methought exceed- ing clever. That she, a fifteen-summers bride, was " handsomer than ever ;" And now, she is so very old, it cannot make her vain, As, challenging dispute, I pay the comphment again. Ten years ago, — ^ye may recall, whose memories are not dim, — Our muse embodied in her song, some pleasant things of him. He keeps on growing, and revolves in more ex- panded ring. And quondam Railroad President is now a Kailroad King. POEM. 401 Ten years! what miglity grief thej brought for some of us to bear, — But they have left at this hearth-stone, — thank Hea- ven, — no vacant chair ! O, sire and dame ! with us this hour recall with pious joy, How through your ministrations fond, God spared your darling boy ! And now it but remains to add, in some befitting phrase, Kind wishes that a favoring sun illume the coming days ; That peacefully and prosperously the stream of life may flow. And — in the self same strain we sang, . so many years ago — That — rarest chance to mortal lot ; still let the wish be spoken — The silver cord be loosened not, nor the golden bowl be broken, Ere at life's even you shall stand, inspired by mem- ories olden, To join each faithful hand with hand, in nuptials that are golden. 402 POEMS, And when the promised Bridegroom comes, O may we all behold The crystal stream, the silver thrones, the City of pure gold ; And join that august shining throng, before the Great I am. To celebrate, eternally, the Mamage of the Lamb ! S. B. S. TO A LADY. 403 TO A LADY, ON BEING ASKED FOR ANOTHER OLD-TIME VALENTINE. What ! ask a Benedict like me, At such a dreadful lapse of time, — A quarter of a century, — To string the olden beads of rhyme ? Indeed, it were a fruitless task, You know not, lady, what you ask. For I am older, staider gro^n ; My face betrays the weight of care ; And close beside each temporal bone, Behold the streaks of silver hair ! I'm sorry, — but it must be told, — The dismal truth ; — I'm growing old ! And yet, not cold ; — for now, indeed. As on thy blithesome face I gaze, — As on some luminous page, I read The memories of those halcyon days. Old flames rekindle, and in sooth I feel the glorious tlirill of youth. And, oh ! how gently hath the hand Of time upon thy brow been laid ; 404: POEMS. Bespeaking, as with fairy wand, Days more of sunshine than of shade. Thou same bright, sparkHng, saucy " Joe " Of five-and-twenty years ago ! Health, wealth, and love, and every weal. Through years and years to come, be thine ; "With mellow softness o'er thee steal Anon the rays of life's decline ; Till, — this thine earthly season past — Thou shalt o'erlook the stars at last. S. B. S. LOVE'S BIOGRAPHY. 405 LOYE'S BIOGEAPHY. John Pkescott was a comely youth ; The type of health, the soul of ti-uth. His widowed mother often sighed "With thoughts of woe and hopes of pride, As sire in son she more descried. And oft the gossips' chatter ran, That John could choose w4ien once a man. A hearty, gleeful, hoyden girl, "Was John's pet playmate, Catharine Earl. Next neighbors, and alike in age ; Taught from the self-same primer page By Catharine's father, — saint and sage. And each, in memory's earliest year, Had followed at a parent's bier. And every tie which childhood knows — Which dearer through our lifetime grows — Wove friendship for this lad and maid. As children they had often played In garden, grove, and brookside glade ; Where now, beneath the moon they told The never-new and never-old, — The nonsense lovers will repeat. And think it quite as true as sweet. C. A. S. 406 POEMS. POEM, BEAD AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW TOWN HALL, AT GBEAT HARRINGTON, MASS., JANUARY 5, 1876. Dear, gentle friends ; dear native scenes ; O, how I love ye all, Wlio come this hour, a tmant son, responsive to your call; Not, as in words, just fitly said, the future to fore- cast, But, haply, here and there to catch some glimpses of the past. For that is all that's left to me ; indeed, this night I seem. While gazing do^Ti the retrospect, as wakened from a dream ; Songs of a dear and cherished past repeat their old- en strain, And I'm a Barringtonian, — a Berkshii'e boy again ! And now — I tell you plainly — ^if you wish to hear from " Sam," One thing I do insist on : — you shall take me as I am. My song will be so personal, — so egotistic, too. Outside reporters, all avaunt ! there's no place here for you ! POEM, 407 Among the first scenes I recall — oli ! forty years ago— My home was in the Chatfield house, within a half stone's throw ; Where, as I came the primal facts of life to realize, The General Whiting premises allm-ed my infant eyes. 'T was quite a manor in those days ; aroimd, for many a mile, The General was sovereign, and lived in fitting style. The mansion was historical, and grand ; but, to my gaze, More splendid seemed the carriage-house, which held the coach and chaise. The office on the comer stood, where, once or t^vice a week, Came suitors, hot for justice, at " 'Squire Kellogg's " hands to seek ; And there, the General, oft in TVTatli magnificent to see, Taught Increase Sumner how to grow imperious as he. No railroad separated then the Chatfield grounds from these, But high board fences tried to keep us boys from off the trees, 408 POEMS. Of whose seductive "golden sweets" we all were very fond, And now I just recall that juicy melon-patch be- yond. But to explore so far as that, required exceeding care ; Not all possessed the hardihood the venturous deed to dare ; But boys are made up variously, and thus 'twas un- derstood, That what Bob Girling wouldn't do, " your uncle '* surely would ! Just north, with Castle street between, a building used to stand. Where, it was said that all the needs of life were at command. You could be bom there, go to school, keep store, learn all the trades. Nay, spend your evenings, if inclined, with lots of pretty maids. " J. C. &, A. C. Eussell " kept the store ; and over- head. The Beekshibe Coueier first began its influence to shed. POEM. 409 Miss Steward kept the school, and culled me out from all the boys, To make me sit amongst the girls. (She thought I'd make less noise ! ) Next north, was "Major Billy's;" — the old red house and the well ; How, in my mind, and most of yours, their vivid pic- tures dwell ! And next, the stone church, in whose rear the mead- ow lilies grew. And from the " Eock-House," leaping forth, the brook meandered through. Across the street, — I see it now — the ancient tavern stood ; — A long, broad, low, incongruous, unsightly hulk of wood. I've seen some architecture since, but let me here declare. For just downright magnificence, my boy ideal was there ! I wonder now, how many times, how much I've longed to pay. To put that structure back again, for just a single day; 410 POEMS. To wander tlirongli its quaint old rooms, its corri- dors and halls, Eun lip and down its creaking stairs, and gaze upon its walls. An old sign, in the garret stowed, the information bore, That "Captain "Walter Pynchon" kept the tavern years before ; And numerous are the legends yet, the fancy to in- spire. Of scrapes, and jokes, and mugs of "flip," around that bar-room fire. The timbers proved exceeding staunch, and when George Ives appeared, And on the spot with statelier walls, the Berkshire House was reared. Dismembered, rudely quartered first, 'twas piece- meal drawn away. And here and there, and extant still, that tavern stands to-day. The town-house, in those earher days, stood up street, o'er the bridge, — A decent structure in its time, its white front crowned the ridge. POEM. 411 There '* Locofocos " met defeat, and " "Whigs " went in to win, And then all hands shook hands again at L. L. Gor- ham's inn. When news of Polk's election came, the "Locos" to inspire, They jollified so strong that night, the town-house caught afire ; It made a brilliant, brief display, and went up in a flame, So, down town, — through the " Locos' " act, — the hustings locits came. And then, above the Berkshire store, we ope'd the new town hall. And had our semi-annual vote, and famous annual baU, Where all South Berkshire's " chivalry," and " flow- er," "eZ^^e"and "ton," Were wont to throng, to celebrate the birth of Wash- ington. Next, when a noble Christian zeal and pride would raise to God A worthier structure, where the old-time meeting- * house had stood ; 412 POEMS. Become the town house, then and since, the venera- ble fane Was scarce vouchsafed a semblance of its old seK to retain. Somewhat, I know, of fond regret, in each breast woke its fire. That morning, when the old church bowed to earth its battered spire ; The upturned faces of that throng my mind is pic- turing yet, For each bespoke a sudden pang, and every eye was wet! Green be its memory, old town hall, old temple of the Lord ! Where, in my first years, Parson Burt proclaimed the living Word ; Where, all your days, ye natives bom, ye have been wont to find So much to feed the hungry soul, and mould and grace the mind. So all things flourish and decay ; yet, all along the past, Mark how each structure, each emprise was better than the last. POEM. 413 Take birdseye view of all this vale ; compare its now and tlien ; — On every liand, what monuments to dead and living men! The church, the school, the library, the factory, the store, The telegraph, the railway train, the bridge, the teeming shore ; The very water that you drink, the very gas you bum, Improved highways, new miles of streets, bright homes at every turn ; Your model Exhibition grounds, the products at each fair ; — How each and all, and more unsaid, would make our grandsires stare ; And now, this last, not least, but fitly crowning work of all— This Town House, builded for all time ; this spa- cious, beauteous hall ! ■x- * -x- -x- * Here let it stand ; and in its front, upon the grace- ful slope. The statued angel point aloft to realms of radiant hope ; 414 POEMS. And with benignant hand the while, extend the lau- rel crown, As tribute to heroic sons of this " Great," lo^^al town. Oh, I am proud that I was born within this lovely vale ! Some roses here caught early bloom, that never shall grow pale ; Yet every elm-tree bough seems Hke the willow, as it waves ; — The town, so full of life for you, for me is full of graves ! Go back with me the dozen years since I had place with you ; Where, where are vanished all those olden faces which we knew ? Long roll ! it sadly, sweetly ends with name of her so dear. Who bade the world her soft " good-bye " with the expiring year ! * How might I dwell! No, — you shall see, a moment's space beyond, CAMiLLAt flash her glorious orbs, and wave her glo- rious wand. * Mrs. Bigelow, just before deceased, — a very benevolent lady. t Camilla Urso, who followed the opening exercises with a con- cert. POEM. 415 For me, almost tlie sweetest task of all my life is done; Now, let us all upHf t the prayer : " God bless us, every one 1 " S. B. S. 416 POEMS, LINES, BEAD AT BUENS FESTIVAL, BBIDGEPOBT, CONN., 1876. How leaped my heart within my breast ; what sud- den thrill was there, That moment, when the guard cried out the railway station, "Ayr!" Bright day in memory's calendar, in that refulgent June, As through the flowery meads we rode, to reach the banks of Doon. 'T was all alive — the broad highway — ^with vehicles which bore Their pilgrims to thai cherished shrine from many a distant shore. So, all the summer days, they said, — and so the re- cord told, — Came multitudes from near and far, that valley to behold. You shall find valleys just as fair, and flowers as bright of hue. Amidst famihar scenes you take your daily rambles through. LINES. 417 The Doon is not so proud a flood, nor can its " banks and braes " Outrival Housatonic's shores, or claim a juster praise. There's no strange beauty in the bridge that spans the rolling stream, Nor in Kirk Alloway, rent by Time with many an envious seam, Nor in the cottage more remote, within whose hum- ble door The eye but notes the circumstance of this world's veriest poor. What magic spell pervades the scene ? pray tell, why gather here The lords and ladies of the earth, with each recur- ring year ? Did some great conqueror drive herethro' his char- iots of war, And pierce the ah and rend the vale with thunder- bolts of Thor ? Did some proud queen awhile sojourn, with royal retinue. Here, by some castle, knightly tilt and pageant to review ? 418 POEMS. Did some grand martyr here resign his body to the stake, And make oblation of himself for truth and con- science sake ? Ah, no ! a simple peasant boy, who looked with modest eye To see grand folk — now all forgot — in stately pomp roll by, At sixteen years, enamored fell, with that poor peas- ant maid, So, wrote her rhymes, and so, thenceforth, his be- ing's law obeyed. At once, a new inhabitant of the Parnassian grove ; At once a genius fully fledged ; as from the brow of Jove Leaped armed Minerva ; — so uprose to heights of in- stant fame That rural bard ; — and Robekt Bukns became a death- less name ! *' "Wild boy " was he? 'tis true, and yet 'tis idle to ignore it — That bridge is now a famous bridge, because Burns staggered o'er it. LINES. 419 That liut belittles palaces, as all the world con- fesses, Since Burns had there his babyhood, and wore his swaddling dresses. Ab, well ! the crowns earth's true kings wear, are not cheap crowns of gold ; But coronets, bedecked with gems and jewels mani- fqld, From regions of the infinite, no vulgar minds ex- plore, — Those vast, illimitable heights that sparkle ever- more ! O, give me once again, this life, those halcyon hours to spend, Where waters of the Bonnie Doon, with Ayr and Ocean blend, And on that simple rustic bridge, to liuger and to dream. And watch the tide, and lazily throw pebbles in the stream ; And think how, century agone, those precincts, then so dull. Became so classic all at once, of memories so fuU, 420 POEMS. Because one simple, truthful soul slied glory all around, And made of unpretentious soil, a very hallowed ground ! Then look upon the bridges twain, which span the dying river. And spake in words the poet heard, and shall be heard forever ; Then look to find the mystery far down into the well. Where, as the poet told us, " Mingo's mither hanged hersel' ;" And then ascend the monument, and view the land- scape there, And gaze within, on " Bobbie's " Jace, and Highland Mary's hair ; Then to " the Grotto " turn aside, to see how " Sau- ter Johnnie," With "Tarn O'Shanter" held carouse, as nightly chum and crony. Then once again remark the walls, which long ago resounded With roystering Scotch hilarity — " confusion worse confounded;" LIKES. ■ 421 And quaff the cup of " mountain dew " for many glad returns Of glad birthdays and memories, to glorious Egbert Burns! S. B. S. 422 POEMS, POEM, READ AT THE ANNUAL BANQUET OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE ALUMNI, PABKER HOUSE, BOSTON, JANUARY 18, 1876. Now, this is rather comforting, ourselves to settle down Eound Parker's famed mahogany, in famous Boston town ; Admire each other mutually, and keep away the chills. While thinking of the dear old home far up on Berk- shire hills 1 O, how it must be blust'ring there, around those classic rocks Between "West College and the place where dwelt Professor Cox ; Where, — even now the very mouth of smiling mem- ory waters, — Those buckwheat cakes were handed round by those three buxOm daughters ! We used to take the meeting-house upon the leeward side. And re-adjust our coat-tails, and a breathing space abide ; POEM. 423 Then face again the elements, that seemed, with wild uproar. From '* Snow-Hole," by -^olus sent, their fury to outpour. It may seem strange; but ne'ertheless, I'd rather nestle here. My time of life ; and feel this warmth, and share this generous cheer. Than, e'en for once, that most tempestuous prome- nade to take, — That tri-diurnal exercise, for health's and stomach's sake ! But that was in the wintry days ; for, when the ver- nal gale, With perfumed breath, brought newer life to moun- tain and to yale ; And Pisgah answered Greylock's smile, across the' gorgeous scene, As each unto the other waved his bannerets of green ; O, never, o'er the globe's expanse — I dare this hour declare, — Ye brothers, who meanwhile have breathed Italia's fragrant air, 4-24 POEMS. And roamed through every land, in quest of regions of delight, Have ye beheld a spot more fit to ravish sense and sight ! But truce to this ; — for I am warned to leave tliis theme alone ; So many sweeter bards have sung strains sweeter than my own, About each precious hill and dale, which to those parts belong ; — I leave them all ; they're not the regnant purpose of my song. I sing of "Williams, now and then, as she to me ap- pears, While gaziQg down my retrospect of almost thirty years. A drive of forty miles "o'er land" — no raihoad in those days, — And old " West College " first loomed up to my ad- miring gaze. Hard by, " East CoUege " stood, and " South," and embryo " Lawrence Hall ;" Observatories twain beyond ; the " Chapel ;" that was all ; POEM. 425 But no, not all ; some " Domes of thought " sent forth their kindly gleam, And in their midst — how I recall — Mark Hopkins towered supreme ! And there we had our daily tasks, our daily sports, and there Professor Albert's " conference room " echoed the daily prayer ; And we were taught in gracious ways, that Y/e can ne'er forget, The lessons, come whatever may, will leave their in- fluence yet. New halls and towers have risen since, their lovely sites to crown, And "Williams is no more, as erst, an isolated town. New streets, new parks, new monuments to heroes old and new. On every hand to-day confront the old-time stu- dent's view. And, better, all the fleeting years have but enlarged the roll Of men, whose mental, moral force is felt from pole to pole ; 426 POEMS. And Alma Mater wears a bright'ning halo round her head, "While multiply her honored names — her living and her dead ! Search all the records of the land ; scan fame's im- mortal scroll, — The list, unfading through all time, of men of brain and soul — List to the Forum's clarion voice ; the Pulpit's thun^ dering tone. And strains poetic, — household words, in every clime and zone ; — Go through the halls where Science waits, where Justice holds her seat ; Where Senates think ; where scholars sit at their Gamahel's feet ; Explore each field of Enterprise, of Valor ; Every- where Behold, in goodly multitude, the sons of Williams there ! O, surely. Heaven's blest favorite is each ingenuous youth, "Who seeks within these classic shades the treasuries of truth ! POEM. 427 Praise to her Sisters ! yet we know he shall not else- where find A Mater aught more cherishing, more bountiful, more kind. From out her gates, he can but go with manlier re- solve. To mingle in life's conflict, and its mighty problem solve ; And Memory, as the years expire, wheiever he may roam. Shall cherish, with a fond delight, his sweet scholas- tic home. And, by that token, we are met, with greeting to each one As brother, and our Alma Mater's true and loyal son. So may we meet, in days to come ; and always to discover New jewels in her radiant crown, and evermore to love her ! And when the next Centennial year, for this our glo- rious land. Shall roll its round, may we have left some foot- prints on time's strand ; 428 POEMS. And sons of Williams, yet unborn, recall, and liaply save Our death-starred names upon lier roll, from Lethe's envious wave ! And be it hers to gather in increasing stores of truth, And flourish in enlarged estate, and everlasting youth ; And scatter seeds of wisdom forth from farthest shore to shore, Till Earth itself shall pass away, and Time shall be no more ! S. B. S. POEM. 429 POEM, DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE SOLDIERS MON- UMENT, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., AUGUST 17, 1876. Our hearts are full ; Goddess of song ! one favoring glance bestow, And re-awake the slumbering lyre, and set the verse aglow. So we may voice the sentiments which to the hour belong, And make these all-pervading thoughts articulate in song. How seeming strange ! what tongue of seer or prophet had foretold, A simple score of years agone, the scene we here behold. So, like huge giants, grand events do ever stalk sub- lime, New mile-stones to uprear along the vast highway of time. So, ever on the world's broad stage, the heroes come and go, To speak betimes the needed word; to strike the needed blow ; 4-30 POEMS. So monuments have risen, and shall rise, while ages roll, Until the very heaven itself shall vanish as a scroU. So history instructs us all, and stiU repeats the story,— No age unto itself shall claim monopoly of glory. The stern, ambitious centuries shall with each other vie, And virtue shall not cease to live, and valor shall not die. So, these our own experiences, our minds do but enable To rescue all the storied past frqm the domain of fable. Who doubts to-day what courage nerved the men of elder E-ome, "Whose very eyes have seen its very counterpart at home ! A hundred years — a breath of time — ^have passed away since when Our fathers sought to 'stablish here a nursery of men. POEM. 431 Prolific years! O, how events witllin their circle crowd, To make their children trebly glad; nay, jubilant and proud. For, under God, to all earth's states and empires, we have shown How every man may be a man, and each possess a throne ; And just proclaimed to all the waiting world in tones sublime, — " This Union, indestructible, shall last as long as Time ! " And round the world, to make those tones so reso- nant to-day, How well we know what noble forms are mould'ring into clay. So, to their memories we come this cenotaph to rear, And once more shed above their dust the reveren- tial tear. And, after all, 't was timely done ; not ingrate be it said. Hath this our loyal city proved unto her bravely dead. 432 POEMS. O, better thus, that after lapse of these reflecting years, So fresh at last, so grand, so fair, our monument ap- pears. Hereby the dead, and e'en our living selves, we do assure Of gratitude unspoiled of time — potential to en- dure. And grow as an undying cypress o'er each hero's grave, "While grows to vaster bounds and ends, the State he died to save ! And unforgotten be the thought, that — most divine- ly human — This gratitude found surest place within the breast of woman. Why not! pray tell, by whom each death-inviting deed was done ? Some maid's fond lover ; wife's fond spouse ; some mother's cherished son ! O, when the everlasting Book, in syllables of gold. The unrevealed biographies of angels shall un- fold; POEM. 433 How then, on every dazzling page, in each resplend- ent line. Eternally the records of true womanhood shall shine ! " What lives she for ? " — exclaimed a youth, with su- percilious air, As at her cottage door a dame sat knitting in her chau' ; " What lives she for?" — the answer came ; — " Her husband and three sons In one brave charge at Gettysburg, fell dead before the guns ! A fourth son holds judicial seat ; while yet another stands A famed Apostle of the Word in yet unchristian lands. She only vraits in God's good time. His rich rewards to share. So there she sits, serenely sad, and knitting in her chair." Throughout the years since waged the war, some hearts, with impulse tender, Have throbbed, a tribute to our brave in fitting form to render ; 434 POEMS. To-day — ^the work consummated — to each and every one, In each breast wells the sentiment — "Ye faithful souls, well done ! " And now, outlooking on the sea that clasps the smiling strand, Defiant of the shocks of time, that glorious form shall stand, "With outstretched arm, magnificent, the laurel to bestow On heroes whose bright names adorn the lettered plinth below. Our soldier boy, with form erect, shall greet each rising sun ; Our sailor watch the gorgeous west, as every day is done ; While Liberty, now all white-robed, displays the sword that gave To her true life, the while it broke the shackles of the slave ! They tell us, in the not remote, nor doubtful by- and-by. Along these shores, the most majestic argosies shall ply- POEM, 435 This placid inland sea those mammoth shuttles shall pass through, Forever weaving webs between the Old "World and the New. Then, from their decks, the emigrant ahke, and ti- tled guest. As, gazing from the starboard side, their curious eyes shall rest On fair Columbia's shore, among its crowning roofs and towers, Shall single out, with pleased surprise, this Senti- nel of ours ; And learn, ere yet their feet have pressed the hospi- table earth, What tribute our New England pays to valor and to worth ; And feel im.patient haste to touch the soil of Yankee land, And hear a hearty Yankee voice, and grasp a Yan- kee hand ! Here shall the beauteous fabric stand, as seasons come and go ; Beflect the summer's sun, and wear its wintry robes of snow ; 436 POEMS. And, in their time, tlie autumn leaves ; and, every joyous spring, Allure tlie birds to gather round, and build their nests and sing. The boys, in mimic soldier-garb, shall here make holiday ; The yachts do glad obeisance as they toss within the bay. And children hold their festivals close by, within the grove. And plighted ones stroll here at eve to whisper words of love. Here shall the stately equipage, and unpretentious wain Bring oft their groups to view these forms, and read these names again ; And music, chiming with the waves, shall wake melo- dious air, And twilight offer respite here to daily toil and care. And so the sure years shall revolve; and when, amidst the dead, On humbler tablets, here and there, our own names shall be read. POEM. 437 Enough for us, in coming time, in memory of these days. If lips unborn shall bid us share the tribute of their praise. Meanwhile, O, fair instructress! teach the lesson from above. How better than material good is the sweet wealth of love ; Inciting, as we gaze on thee, such converse and be- haviour. As makes us more akin to God, and to the gentle Saviour. S. B. S. 438 POEMS. LINES, BEAD BEFORE I. 0. O. F., VIRGINIA CITY, NEY., APRIL 26, 1868. In these emphatic and tumultuous days, When sins are to the lowest scale deplored, Or favor strained in every term of praise — As ladies' notes are largely underscored ; When argument seems but a needless speech, Unless it bear, for force, some deadly threats, And riot is assumed the mode to teach That Charity which pardons and forgets ! When all is last, and everything is first, When good is best, and bad *s denounced the worst. And men and actions either kicked or cursed ; When simple positives of human thought To fierce superlatives are raised and wrought. And old poetic types of joys and woes Are dwarfed by new hyperboles of prose ; — In short, when modern heat of temper and of tone Has, in the moral and the lettered sense, LINES. 439 Destroyed the climate of a tempered zone, To substitute the torrid and intense : How can we hope our set and sober theme Will marked attention and respect invite, When in imperfect phrase we tell a scheme That needs no plea, that seeks no proselyte ? Yet may we sing, though our admonished muse Itself proclaim the critic's chosen wrong. And seem, at first, to question and accuse For faults which title all the following song. Hail, mighty Sun ! that gladdens into mom The hours that date the instituting birth Of this Grand Order, whose design was born Beneath the Angel's good-will chant to Earth ! Hail ! men in bonds to fellowsiiip and truth ! United by the dying, o'er the dead ; Or, having passed the discipline of 3^outh, The rocky road, without a guide, can tread ! Hail ! blessed memories, which the day invest ! Not heard in story, nor explained by creeds : Though hidden, yet the Ciphers which suggest Form choral alphabets of friendly deeds. 440 POEMS. Welcome the year ! for which ye now, anew, Eepeat your vows to sacred toil and strife. And pledge the glory of the Past's review In ample token of a higher life. What summons bid these goodly men repair. With obvious pleasure and enlightened zeal, To upper chambers which with ritual care, Are ope'd by signs, and closed with secret seal. No public heralding the stated hour. No printed words the usual objects tell ; No sect seductions wield attractive power : — The finest chapel and the sweetest bell ; The loveHest shepherd of the wealthiest flock ; The largest gathering of the worldly great ; The church, where simple purchasers of stock In weekly mourning humbly congregate ; None such as these appeal or motive lend To fill these courts, or propagate our plan ; For he who enters must be vouched a friend ; Who gains the grasp need only be a Man. Though doubly sentineled and barred the gates Of Temples which our Order rears and rules, LINES. 441 Lo ! not in vain tlie weeping widow waits Without the portals of the Vestibules. O, Ministry to suffering, sublime ! O, shrine of Mercy, quick to Heaven's assail ! Wliere, through the babble of this heartless time, "With helpful grief is heard the Orphan's wail ! The trophies of great battle triumphs bring And fill the museums for a nation's pride ; As they are gathered let the welkin ring With songs which desperate threatenings defied. Raise high the pedestals, in park and town. Whereon the Hero's marble form may stand, To mark and to perpetuate renown. For love and service to a glorious land. Adorn each capitol's rotunda space With paintings of bright deeds for Freedom's home. And crown the champion of an age or race Upon the summit of the soaring dome ! But where the earthly monuments of those — Save they have built an alms-house for their fame — Whose labor to relieve the common woes. In worldly walks had reaped a mighty name ? 442 POEMS. And even tliougli tlie costly Mural gave A truthful tale of duty without price, The stolen hymn that marks each villain's grave, Provokes the thought of Yirtue mocked by Yice. And where the prizes Charity has gained In Misery's scenes, which her apostles trod ? Intangible Jiei^ trophies — else profaned The honor and the husbandry of God ! There is no history for the mortal eye. There is no shaft that smites the distant cloud, Graven or raised with grace to testify Of kindred acts which Heaven's blest vaults en- shroud. In this new land, where each man has his creed ; Where meanest delvers often strike a lead ; Where bloody tragedy, audacious theft. And homes of peace connubial bereft, Whatever verdict partial juries take, By natural laws are bound a book to make. Where well-born subjects early leave their nurse But to relieve the parent's plethoric purse ; Where little girls to debauchees are tied, Until the Judge declares tho Priest has lied ; LINES. 443 Where married women, of reproacliless fame, With each new bonnet change their wedded name, And, pitying, view those left by them in lurch — Their poorer sisters of the self-same church — Who, it would seem quite rational to fear, Will never marry— -more than once a year ! Where politicians sneer at moral worth As not related to official birth ; Where candidates long hanker on the shelves ; Wliere snobs and loafers satirize themselves ; Where wretches known to be in guilt so deep That angels vainly for their souls might weej) ; To tenderest passions mournfully appeal, And picture love and truths they never feel ; — Out from their pits of sensual blackness run Their fiery cars of rhetoric to the sun ! Where brainless vagrants, filled with dirty spite, Affect the courage of an Ishmaelite ; Where money-sharks relentless prey, and then Are epitheted, "First-rate business men ! " Wliere sordid self is potentate and rule ; Who gives for friendship is an arrant fool ! Where scarce relieved frivolity prevails ; Where Mercenaries crawl to honored place ; Where Legal License actually avails ; To consecrate the world's supreme disgrace ; — 444 POEMS. How can you think to organize a plan That shall retain its worldng skill and power To cheer the heart and meet the wants of man ; "Without a starthng tocsin for each hour ? Thy neighbors' dangers and thine own attend On every moment, threatening every breath ! "Where is the system that shall wisest lend All human aid 'gainst Chance, Disease and Death ? When great catastrophe occurs, and calls For special contributions and relief ; When fearful carnage all the land appalls And moves the coldest to a generous grief ; Abundant means for succor are obtained ; Ten thousand hands, gratuitous, extend To help, till life and peace once more are gained, And dreadful memories to the Past descend. But, in the callous or indifferent world. When quiet broods upon the social face ; When all are not in shocks of sorrow whirled. How find and soothe the miseries of the race ? This greatest precept must be held in view — Given by the Father to the perfect Son : — LIKES, 445 Whatever right or duty thou wouldst do, In secret service let the work be done ! Strip from the Symphony the vulgar rhyme "Which blasphemy upon its cords has hung ; How clear the soul lifts with the swelling chime ! How purely thrills the music, harped or sung I Music ! Th' Etherial, and the Undefiled ! The heart and utterance of celestial truth ; Eevealing in its innocence a child ; Its beauteous strength portraying sinless youth. So man : weak, vain, when nurtured with pretense ; If private hour and fellow mortal's needs Conspke to drive each earthly impulse hence, May execute the unpolluted deeds ! Deeds of redemption ; though the Judge devotes All other actions to comsuming fire — Changed by celestial alchemy to notes In Time's great anthem, for the Harvest Choir ! Aye ! Deeds that shall be celebrated when The Morning Stars, in rapture, sing again ! 0. A. S. 446 POEMS. THE FUNERAL. It was a siglitly funeral train, The undertaker man, With coffin-faced solemnity, Conspicuous, led the van. The priest, with comely garb and mien, Sate, reverent, at his side ; Then came the hearse, whose stately plumes Bespoke a solemn pride. *' First carriage": — wherein honest grief Seemed manifest displaj^ed. And kerchief d eyes would fain shut out Observance and parade. "Coach Number Two": — a lighter shade Of sorrow and distress ; Then " Number Three" : — appearances Of partial listlessness. But curious ; the occupants Of carriage " Number Four," Yawned, as to vote the whole affair A ceremonious bore ; But, "Five," " Six,'^ " Seven," made amends, With ever-broadening smile, THE FUNERAL, 447 As ancedote and joke went round, The journey to beguile. But — vastly worse — our truthful muse Would hardly dare to state, — Were not these verses based on fact — The scenes in " Number Eight ;" Where two gay youths and two fair maids Were visibly" diverting Their minds from the solemnities, By levity, and flu'ting. And then behold in "Number Nine," A scene transcending far, All we have chronicled as yet,— Four men, each with cigar ; A robe upon their knees outspread. Suspicious flask and cup, ForecastiQg resurrection. By playing " seven up !" Then, in the last conveyance, rode The female we all know. Who never lets occasion pass. To supplement the show; 448 POEMS, And weeps and sobs, until the sight Is pitiful to see, And then inquires, as nears the grave, " Whose funeral might this be?" S. B. S. A SAILORS VISION. 449 A SAILOK'S VISION. INSCKIBED TO MISS S. M. H. The night was beautifully clear, High up the full-orbed moon was shining, As I, — glad that our port was near, — Upon the capstan was reclining, Spying the sea, and backward thinking, — Such was my wont when watching nights ; — From future thoughts persistent shrinking, As never yielding old delights. Alone my solace in the past. Through all the hours of toil and care : The morrow's sky was overcast With clouds whose depths I could not dare. The sailor's thoughts of home were sweet ; Though late in life he learned their truth, He prayed that he in Heaven might meet The first companions of his youth. How the dear scenes passed in review, — Pictures of gold he pondered o'er ! How far beyond all price they grew, As he repeated, " nevermore I " 450 POEMS. And yet there was no mean repining, No sickly yearning for the lost ; Those tender memories interlining Life's record, cheat it of its cost. With pain at times we throw them by. But soon return, when 'tis revealed That in those shades which never die The actual substance is concealed. It, was not fear or shame that filled My soul, when forward it might look : An " undefined presence " chilled. And cursed the prospect I forsook. But now, why should I try evade — So close the Fleet Wing's harbor lay — Reflections, which before forbade The simplest comfort on my way ? Eight bells struck aft ; upon relief I did not join the crew below ; Their hearts with joy, as mine with grief, Unreasonable bounds o'erflow. Beneath the boats I made my bed. Hid from the moon's destructive beams \ A SAILOR'S VISION. 45I Again the earliest pages read, And gained the quiet boyhood dreams. What is this strangely following sight ? What blessed Angels walk before ; Repeat the day, dispel the night, And make me anxious for the shore ? Almost a copy for the time That I had held in such esteem, Hope for its likeness seemed a crime, Was promised in the Sailor's Dream. With me such unbelief remained, Against its haunting force I strove ; But constantly it was sustained, — With every calculation wove. Four times the Farallones we made ; Three times the lights flashed on the lee ; Four times the winds opposing staid, And drove us to the open sea. What curious passions fill my mind ! Now they depress and now elate. When after five long months we find An entrance through the Golden Gate. 452 POEMS. And here begins the wondrous choice ; And here commenced prophetic days : Familiar was the Pilot's voice ; I recognized the city's ways. With utmost faithfulness, each part Of hour and day disclosed the fact Which I had written on my heart, — Foreshadowed, and fulfilled exact. The old New England home, once more I The welcome, and the cheerful fire, Contrasted suffering, than before A keener relish must inspire. But ah ! the vision failed to tell Of her, whose beauty soon destroys The peace of life, I loved so well ; A deeper hope my soul employs. With unaffected ease she spoke Of mutually famihar friends : The memories her words evoke A cherished possible transcends. I lent to her my favorite books, And proved our tastes ahke incHned : A SAILORS VISION. 453 Forgetting e*en her charming looks, In her enchanting grace of mind. The story of the Dream 's complete. 'T was fully true, save nought of 07ie ! If a revealing trance repeat, And finish what was thus begun — ? aA.s. Sacbamento, Nov. 25» 1857. 454 POEMS. POEM, DELIVEBED AT THE ANNUAL EXHIBITION OP THE HOUSA- TONIG AGRICULTUEAL SOCIETY AT GREAT BAR- RINGTON, MASS., SEPT. 29, 1876. I'm no farmer ; not a syllable from lips of mine shall drop, To accelerate or magnify a solitary crop ; And I only come, with careless rhyme, to greet these friends of mine, The acquaintances of years ago, the neighbors of of "lang syne." And 'tis singular — I came to sing, — but all things sing to me. Olden tunes come wafted to my ear from every rock and tree ; And I seem but echo, as I stand within this native vale, And each object in the landscape round repeats an olden tale. But how things have changed ! go back with me the four and thirty years. To the time when this good enterprise began with doubts and fears. POEM, 455 'T was a curious coincidence ; the railway train, you know, First arrived in town that day, and brought its crowds to see the show. And the " show" was scattered all around, — a little here and there. Oxen here, sheep over yonder, and confusion every- where ; Butter, cheese, and patch-work counterpanes, and what not, stored in halls. While along the street were improvised seductive oyster stalls. O, let modem cookery essay its best exploits in vain. For those oysters, and that gingerbread we'll never taste again, — So dehcious, and so toothsome, and done up so very " brown," Titillating the oKactories of all the boys in town ! How we used to hoard our shilliags up, for weeks and months ahead, To invest in those bivalvous plants, and buy that gingerbread ! 456 POEMS. And how some have made their fortunes since, who, all those years ago, Peddled sweets and peanuts to the folks who came to " cattle show !" I remember, to the rearward of the stone church used to stand Half a dozen gorgeous wagons, with their fancy goods on hand. And some very flippant orators their merchandise would cry, O'er-persuading by their eloquence, the rustic pass- ers by. One I think of in particular, — most charming auc- tioneer — Whom I knew I might anticipate with each return- ing year; Whose financial sacrifices, if the half he said was true. Must have made him bankrupt, if alive ; I'd hke to * put him through !' Then, the man who showed the learned pig, and donkey with three legs. And the cripple, who displayed the ball that knock- ed away his pegs ; POEM. 457 And the everlasting soap man, nevermore to be for- got, "Who could cleanse your coat or conscience from a microscopic spot ! 'Twas in those days, Major Rosseter — methinks I see him now — Something over seventy years of age, walked proud behind the plow While before, at least a hundred stalwart oxen were aligned, And His Excellency, Governor Briggs, and magnates marched behind ! And in front of all, surrounded by enthusiastic boys. That new village brass band vexed the air with com- plicated noise, And escorted all the people, to the semblances of tunes. To the meeting where should be dispensed the speeches, songs, and — spoons ! From beginnings such as these, the institution thrived and grew, — For its foimders, as the sequel proved, built wiser than they knew ; 458 POEMS, I might tell you all the history in lengthy dia- tribe, As, through many a year, as I recall, I played the role of scribe, "What intense debates we used to have, when first awoke desire Some distinctive habitation for our purpose to ac- quire ; And how many croakers shook their heads, and said it wouldn't pay; Who shall find their sage prognostications all at fault to-day ! And now what an educator this emprise hath proved to be! Looking back a generation, what results we come to see. Better farms and better mansions, better harvests now than then ; Better quadrupeds and bipeds, — ^brighter women, thriftier men ! So, one thing begets another, through our life-work as we go. And each tributary makes the river grander in its flow; POEM. 459 And nnto what vast proportions it shall magnify and swell, In the century that's coming, who shall ventui-e to foretell ? In that wondrous exhibition, now surprising all the earth, How we %vitness with amazement, to what Art hath given birth. Unto patient Labor wedded, as together, hand in hand, They have cultured all the planet and embellished every land ! See how Eussia vies with Turkey, and Australia with Japan, In the onward march of progress, all contesting for the van. Side by side see China, Germany and Austria ad- vance, With the Netherlands, Spain, Norway, Sweden, Italy, and France ! Then the Argentine Eepublic, Chili, Mexico, Bra- zil, — In the world's confederation, each a mission to ful- 460 POEMS. "While old England, on whose vast domains there looks no setting sun, With a pride we all forgive her, shows the trophies she has won ! Unto all of these according, as we do, the meed of praise, How our own beloved Columbia evokes our own amaze, As in each field of endeavor, each proud rival she defies, — In the tournament of nations, bearing off the highest prize ! And for all her sudden glory, I assert that unto you, Men and women of New England, much of all the praise is due. Take the purple wings of morning, girdle all the globe in vain. Nowhere else shall you discover more of sinew, heart and brain. And from out these rural valleys, and from off these mountain slopes. Have gone many brave evangelists of this young nation's hopes. POEM. 4g| 'Tis the country makes the city, and your country boys are they, Who control your gi-and metropolis and capital, to- day. Now, the lesson I would leave you, friends and neighbors, as we part, — Cultivate not matter only, but the vineyard of the heart. Give the plow its meed of honor, but no less the brain and pen, And, whatever else, keep raising your true women and good men 1 IS. B. S. 462 POEMS. LINES, PRESENTED AS A SILVER WEDDING GIFT. Full five and twenty years ago, — Ah, me ! wliat recollections swarm, — Louisa changed her maiden name, To please her Francis Mandlebaum.* And if for me, whose diary page In single blessedness descends. The century quarter seems an age, How must it look to these dear friends ? For they have had such cause for joy, — Eed-letter hours of festal mirth, — In anniversary employ, For wedding day and children's birth ; And they have had such scenes of woe, As death of children must decree. Since five-and-twenty years ago They married 'neath the almond-tree. To them, indeed, the span of years With tenderest incidents is set ; * Signifies almond-tree. LINES. 463 Not one of which, mid smiles and tears, Could they consent to quite forget. Now when they round this arc of time, I hope they will not spurn from me The gift I'd lay with friendship's thyme, Upon their silver almond-tree. C. A. S. 464 POEMS. LINES, READ AT BURNS FESTIVAL, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., JANUARY 25, 1877, IN RESPONSE TO A TOAST — THE LASSIES. What wonder Scotia's lyric bard All lyric bards surpasses. Whose inspiration was the glance Of Scotia's bonnie lassies. In Edinboro', — on the Clyde, In Ayr — delicious creatures ! — How I have worshipped, (as I sighed,) The glory of their features. Perhaps it is ozonic air, Off those gigantic mountains ; Perhaps the waters, as they flow From Alton's sparkling fountains : Perhaps, more like, the genial light Of wholesome hearths, and cozy. That makes those eyes so clear and bright, Those Hps and cheeks so rosy. There's many a Highland Mary yet. That land can reproduce. And many a maid walks there as proud As in the days of Bruce .: LINES. And many a Queen of Scots still lives, And Vernons and Mac Ivors, In fact, if not in fiction, leave A host of sweet survivors ! O, when shall I forget the morn, On which the Judge and I, At Melrose Abbey's guarded gates. For guidance did apply. Soft eyes fi'om out the lattice peeped,— A welcome voice, but shy. Said, " I'll encase my feet from dew, The lawn is scarcely dry." Then, in a trice, from out the door, A vision, I'll declare. Burst, such as never seemed before Transcendently so fair. That tabernacle of alhgrace I see in day-dreams now : That figure, and that radiant face, And that Madonna brow ! Sir Walter tells us, as we know, To see Melrose aright. We should behold its ruined walls Beneath the soft moonlight. 465 466 POEMS. The dear old soul ! he could but say ' Twere more delightful Aidenn, To gather its traditions up Erom lips of such a maiden ! I know not of her name or place. Nor can conjecture even Whether on earth still beams her face. Or one new star decks heaven. But, living yet, a health this night ! There's not a flower that blows More fragrant on the banks of Tweed, — Fair rose of fair Melrose ! O, Scotland ! ever bright'ning page In my memorial volume ; For all thou hast, and art, we'd raise The laudatory column ! Thy scenery, thy history, The scrolls thou hast unfurled, — The lanterns thou hast set ablaze To lumine all the world ; Let others speak to-night of these, — As fittingly they T^ill. — Be mine my pretty text to keep — My sweet task to fulfill ; LINES. 467 To sing a simple heartfelt strain, In honor of dear woman, Who everywhere, but nowhere more, Than upon Caledonia's shore, Allies divine with human ! O, I am growing old apace. And yet — I know not why — Not unneglected of my glance, The lassies pass me by. I love them all ; — fair flowers they are By our kind Author given, Vouchsafing here some little share And foretaste of that Heaven., — Where, let us hope, we all shall meet, And on the blooming heather, — The other side of Jordan's stream, — Koam lovingly together. So I conclude with sermon, what Was meant to be a song, And, in a word — God bless us all ! — The sermon wasn't long. S. B. S. 468 POEMS. SHAKESPEAEE. LINES BEAD AT THE ANNUAL BANQUET OF ST. GEORGE's SOCIETY, BRIDGEPORT CONN., 1877. Three centuries ago there trod The banks of Avon, up and down, One, who upbore no earthly crown, But crowned magnificent of God. Imperial soul ! so vastly stored From out the treasuries of thought ; What empyrean realms it sought ; What undiscovered heights explored ! Shakespeare ! Arch Poet, bard sublime ; Seer, autocratic sage profound ; How shall thy crescent fame resound Through all the corridors of time ! Earth's sceptred kings may come at will. And each abide his little day ; And strut his while, and pass away And other kings their places fill ; But THOU shalt still assert thy throne, Whose grandeur shall attempt in vain SHAKESPEARE. ^39 All lords of earth ; and thou shalt reign Majestical, supreme, alone ! For thou hast caught from out the spheres Of upper air, Promethean fire. Proud Hermit, where none dare aspire, Thou scornest the retreat of years ; — Years which shall pass us laughing by. And leave us wrecked on Lethean shore ; Whilst thou shalt live forever more In thoughts and words that cannot die ! S. B. S. 470 POEMS. THE FATHEK AND THREE SONS. From the German. As OLD in years, and rich in goods, And flocks, and teeming soil, A sire apportioned to liis sons The product of his toil. " One diamond ring," the old man said, " Is here, which I withhold ; It shaU be his, who can to me The noblest act unfold. " Thereat the brothers separate, And go their several ways ; And to their aged sire return, At lapse of many days. Then spake the eldest brother : " Hear ! A stranger all his hoard Entrusted me ; the which I held. And faithfully restored ; " Say, Father, may I not presume To claim the glittering prize ? How looks a noble deed like that. In the parental eyes?" TEE FATHER AND THREE SONS. 47I "You did, my son," — the old man said — " What duty bade you do. The deed was good, — not noble though, 'Twas simply, to be true." The other spake : "As journeyed I Along in careless way, I heard a fearful wild outcry From out a storm-tossed bay. " I plunged into the angry wave, The drowning child upbore ; And saved it from the watery grave, — Could noble man do more ?" "My boy," the sire replied, — "You did What mortals here below In kindly offices of love Unto each other owe." " The youngest spake : " Upon the brink Of a stupendous steep — Unconscious of his peril — lay My enemy, asleep. " Within my hand I held his life,— One thrust had hurled him o'er, — 472 POEMS. I drew him back ; we slevr our strife. And we are foes no more." " O !" said tlie sire, with loving glance— " Hither my noble boy, advance ! The ring is thine ! Welch edler Muth ! Wenn Man dem Feinde Gutes thuf S. B. S. THE TBAMP'S SOLILOQUY. 473 THE TRAMP'S SOLILOQUY. Last night, within the Station House, I was distinctly fioored. I noticed, while I had my bed, Therewith I had my board. But now it 's morn, and breakfast time ; I'll sally forth and beg. I'd like a cup of old Bohea, A biscuit and an egg. Well, here's a place seems promising ; I'll ring the kitchen bell. There's something luscious broiling there,— O, what dehcious smell ! All ! here comes Bridget ; — Pray, my dear, — ■ Tour cooking I admire, — Would you a gracious morsel give To quell my stomach's ire ? What's this she says ? — "Begone, you wretch! Your blarney is all stuff; And your profession 's overdone, — We've seen and heard enough ! Begone, I say ! and mind you this, — Don't show your face here more." 474 FOEMS. With that, she tosses up her nose. And, spiteful, slams the door. Well, well, I'll go across the street, And see what better luck ; — A saucier girl, in all my rounds, I'm sure I never struck. 0, ho ! what's here ! — a boarding house I'll make another dash ; I see the breakfast bill of fare, — Fish-balls and mutton-hash. Now, if that matron had but thought To serve those viands warmer. And not from off that baby's plate, I wouldn't wish to storm her. Here, pup ; here kit ! come, try your teeth And talented digestion ; — I pass — pass out, on this queer game, Take, eat ; don't ask a question ! But now, 'tis getting serious, And whither shall I wend ? A lively notion strikes my mind, — The labor-search pretend. THE TRAMP'S SOLILOQUY. 475 Here's just tlie place ; I see a face Benevolent, all over ; — O, lady ! for the love of God, Some work for me discover ! I'm travelling by niglit and day The ^vide, wide country through, To find some steady place to stay, — Some useful thing to do. And even now I'm famishing, And oh ! were I but fed. How gladly would I scrub that walk, And rake that flower-bed ! I had her there ; that tea was fine, — How nice the ham and eggs ! The pancakes came right in my line ; Once more I'm on my pegs ! This spoon I'll pawn somewhere away — Y/lien many days have sped ; O, lady ! here's your health ; good day ! O, slighted flower-bed ! S. B. S. 476 POEMS, LINES, READ AT F. W. PARROTT's GOLDEN WEDDING, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., MAY 10, 1877. The golden wedding ' O, reluctant Muse ! Once more be wooed from out thy coy retreat ; Smile on thy humble suppliant ; nor refuse This brilliant throng, this honored pair, to greet. Semi-Centennial ! what a lapse of years, Since these good friends in wedlock clasped the hand, And forth, with alternating hopes and fears — Adventured the long stroll upon Time's strand. I learn to honor, as I older grow, — As I would fain be honored, were it mine So long to hve ; the " gude folk" whom I know. Whose history reaches to the far " lang syne." Half century ago ; — Exceeding queer ! — This couple strayed beneath the soft moonlight. How many forms, like mine, which were not here, Are gathered to congratulate, this night ! For we were dead ; — out in the void somewhere ; — As dead we shortly hence again shall be ; — LINES, 477 The world moTed on without us ; while this pair "Were living, breathing, loving souls as we. The same hills here reflected the same sun ; The same fields spread their carpeture of green ; The same bright river sought its course to run ; The same sweet stars looked out from Heaven se- rene; And most of us were, where, — O strange ! we dread Once more in course of nature to withdraw ; In realms, where kindred souls each other wed, And Love, we trust, is universal law. O, what poetic sermon would we sing, — So the kind muse, would breathe into the strain ; — But ah ! she flitteth with uncertain wing ; I strive to grasp a feather, but in vain ! Half century ago, my friends, is something of a while. It means a toilsome journey, friends, and many a weary mile. And when we greet the man and wife, who all that length of time Have clung together ; prose is dull, and thought should dress in rhyme. 478 POEMS. For what a tlieme it opens up to the poetic pen ! And what perspective stretches out betwixt the "Now" and "Then." What memories it congregates in overwhelming throng, To challenge all the force of speech, and melody of song! I see in distant retrospect, the sturdy, striving boy, Ambitious, all his energy in life-work to employ ; To give the world endeavors best ; and, in return demand Some recognition of his worth, at this world's jeal- ous hand. Here was he to the manor born ; — a native of the soil ; — Here, spent his childhood and his youth ; and here his manl}^ toil. Coui'ageous and laborious, these many years along ; — O, what career more fit to be emvoven into song ! Life's real heroes don't wear star and garter all the time ; Your quiet, unassuming men are fittest theme for rhyme. LINES, 479 I know some steeds upon parade evoke a loud ap- plause, But in the long run give to me the faithful one that DRAWS ! Some men produce, while more consume; — this friend, his whole life o'er, Has added, not subtracted, in the count of earthly store ; Grown rich, perhaps ; — within a home where luxuries surround it, — He'll leave at last his neighborhood much richer than he found it. So, as the soft approaches come, of life's late after- noon. Fain would we summon the fond muse, in lightly sandaled shoon Hither approach ; and for the nonce, mth smiling face, look down. And deck this septuagenary brow with fitting crown. But hush ! we can but apprehend, there'll be domes- tic strife. Unless, right here, — the muse pays some attention to the wife ! 480 POEMS. O, what a pretty girl was she ! with glance so bright jet tender, Which brought the boy upon his knee, and bade his heart surrender. "We'll not narrate the courtship scenes enacted by this pair, — As intimated heretofore, we were engaged else- where. — Had we been here, officious aid had hardly been al- lowed. Two — then as now — was company ; but three, too big a crowd. Tradition has it, that the girl had many a sighing beau; And, for a time, not wholly smooth, Love's rivulet did flow ; And yet our hero broke the ice, and did not yield nor falter, But persevered until he led his lady to the al- tar. Though his has been a good success, the world's af- fairs amid, His marriage was the smartest thing, we think he ever did. LINTIS, 481 A faitkful helpmeet he acquired ; a loving wife and mother ; — So he could say through all these years ; — " there never lived such other." She helped him toil and calculate ; fond babes to him she bore ; She aided to accumulate in basket and in store ; And sometimes — ^barely possible — her sceptre was the ladle, To make " creation's lord" sit down, and rock that boisterous cradle ! Yet she was a true heroine ; how often have I heard, She'd let him come home late o' nights, and never say a word ! I state this for the benefit of other ladies here — One, in particular, I see, I think is " on her ear." O, I might sing the livelong night, to coax a cry or laugh ; You notice, what I'm dealing out, is something "half and half ;"— But these old people, you can see at superficial glance, Are growing dreadful frisky, and impatient for the dance ! 482 POEMS. So, let the hearty bugler blow his most arousing horn! Eing, bells ! Attune the jocund hours ! don't let's go home till mom ! But, when we go ; — ^both glad and sad, — how must we all agree — What we have seen this nuptial tide, we never more may see ! S. B. S. MOBS. 483 MOES. I DREAMED there was a luxury in death. !Pond friends and kindred round the couch were sighing, While there in state, quiescent, I was lying, Awaiting calmly the expiring breath. It seemed, as on a throne I was uplifted, So all surrounding faces gazed on me ; — O, had I been with tongue of angel gifted, How had I half disclosed what I could see ! I saw, with rapt and beatific vision, "Worlds far beyond, and O, so far above ! Where, midst the empyrean spheres elysian, The seraphs love to Hve, and live to love. Then, all at once, at beck of some supernal And glorious being — radiance o'er her head — I seemed to soar into the realms eternal. And earth's poor grovellers pronounced me " der^d. " S. B. S. 484 POEMS. SPRING. She comes ! I know her footsteps as they fall On this glad earth, so gloriously drest, Once more in all her bowers to install This new-bom goddess, this delightful guest. She comes ! I scent, in violet and rose. Her perfumed garments as she trips along ; How every apple-blossomed ringlet flows, As she moves on — a personated song ! She comes ! the forest trees are all awake ; The cataract exults ; the warm sun shines ; The birds their southern fastnesses forsake. To build once more their nests in northern pines. She comes ! the boys and girls are all aglee ; The coasting and the skating days are past, " Good-bye, decrepid Winter ! here comes she ! We love her after all, the first and last ! '' She comes ! best season of the rolling years, — Most welcome ; would we doubt the reason why ? She tells us every time she re-appears : "The dead shall rise again ; ye cannot die! " a B. S. ALBEBl. 485 ALBERT* Not wrapped in memory's spell, But in some other self enslirined ; Absorbed, yet free to dwell Within the frescoed chambers of the mind. Unnumbered scenes are set, Distinct, but incomplete they seem ; As when a heart regret Swells to the anguished outcry of a dream. Mid twilight views of years, — Serene — exulting — yet oppressed ; — Wherein the boy appears I've rocked a thousand times upon my breast. 'Tis but a flashing look, I wish and wish not to prolong ! 'Tis caught, then quick forsook : The wild, weird witchery of his infant song ! And then consummate skill On harps of most melodious strings, * Albert was returning, when drowned at Halifax, from a two years' residence in Europe. He was a fine musician, and musical composer. His musical works have been collected and published in an elegant volume, by 0. Ditson & Co. , Boston. 486 POEMS. Bequeaths the ecstatic thrill, — The sorcery Genius summons, weaves and flings. Again those pictures come Of peaceful sail ; of -wrecking shocks I The captain steeped in rum. Tossing his vessel on the jagged rocks ! O God ! amid the roar Of waves and winds ; 'mid women's cries ; Did that sweet spirit soar, Bathed in symphonious echoes from the skies I Child of last hope and fears ! Youth, with seraphic rhythm endowed ! Comrade of choicest years, A brother's soul above thy grave is bowed ! C. A. S. THE PRODIGAL SONo 487 THE PKODIGAL SON. Since I heard Doctor Chapin a certain Lord's day, His Sabbath evangel from Heaven convey, I remember the service— how fitly begun,— As he read the old parable—" Prodigal Son." As that voice, so magnificent,— rendered the text, A stranger enraptured, whose seat was just next. Accosted me thus : " How the God-man in Glory,— I speak reverential ;— could tell a sweet story ! " The prodigal son ! I would touchingly bid Every prodigal son to do just as he did. You're a prodigal now ; you need only return. To discover what hearts for your welcoming yearn. No matter what goods and what hours you have squandered. No matter how far from life's duty you've wan- dered. There's a sun,— aye, a Son !— on your pathway to shine. Through a lens that's all human, but O, how divine ! The good brother was jealous; he stayed on the farm, And faithfully wrought with laborious arm ; 488 POEMS, No matter ; — ^reserved with a fatherly care, In the old man's heart's chambers, a place was still there ! And the boy ; — we'll acknowledge his courses were wild, But he learned the sad lessons ; and, once more a child, From the dreadful deceits of the world would fain come Penitential to beg for the old home, at home ! Did the fond sire reject him? The Gospel shall sing,— " Bring forth fatted calf ; the best robe ; the bright ring! With the echoes of merriment, household, resound ! For our dead is alive, and our lost one is found ! " O, THIS is Keligion ! we're prodigals all. Who inhabit and tread this terrestrial ball ; But, for sinner, transgressor, for every one — There is hope ; — read the story ; ike prodigal son. S. B. S. GEOEQIANNA. 439 GEORGIANNA. O, BOSOM friend of many years ! Partaker of my hopes and fears ; — Rejoicing when I did rejoice, And, when I wept, with gentle voice, And sympathetic words, assuaging The agony within me raging ; — Fond mother of fond babes of mine ; Priestess, at our domestic shrine ; Sunlight of our domestic hearth ; — This benizon, of little worth, Take from thine ardent swain of yore. Whose love hath ripened more and more ; — Georgianna ! Strange ! how as people come and go, I chanced that sparkUng lass to know. From out her eye there flashed one dart, "Which quite transfixed, and won my heart, I yielded all I was, and had ; Too fortunate, too proud, too glad To clasp as mine that faithful hand, And kneel beneath the silken band, Which bound us happily in one. As was our wedded hfe begun ; Georgianna ! 490 FOEMB. What treasure in mj chosen mate, No chosen words can fitly state. All our experiences through, Thou hast been constant, loving, true. In all vicissitudes of life Thou stand' st approved, — a model wife ! Mayhap our grandchildren may read These words, and give them reverent heed ; Georgianna ! The years roll on ; — 'tis growing late, — And we anon must separate; But somewhere, on some shining shore, — Where amaranth blooms evermore, — Let's hope, the good God will permit. That, re-united, we may sit. And hear sweet strains of music sounding, Where Heaven's grand minstrelsy resounding Shall welcome to the scenes above The earth-born souls most meet for love ; Georgianna ! Meanwhile, be thou, — as thou hast been, — Within this home enthroned as queen. Still give, fi'om thy resources ample. Our children, precept and example ; GEORGIANNA. 491 Be my first critic as thou hast, — Mentor imknown through all the past ; And where or how our lines may be, Beam on my pathway ; cleave to me ; Georgianna ! S. B. S. 492 POEMS. OUE FATHEE. Brother ! we cannot close these waifs of ours, Until upon that honored grave we place, — With filial and with reverential grace, — A simple garland of memorial flowers. A man not only good and true, but great, — To us, indeed, almost a demi-god ; His smile was bliss ; his frown was gloom ; his nod Oracular ; his lightest speech was weight. Whoe'er would meet his logic, must prepare ; Whoe'er impugn his honor, must take heed ; Whoe'er his learning would attempt, must read ; Whoe'er would tell him falsehood, must beware. Imperious oft, and with his thoughts astray, How would he sometimes overawe us boys. How well admonished then to hush our noise, And shift elsewhere our racket, and our play. Yet we remember, in his leisure hour, — The golden moments of his care's surcease, — How would he, giving else a brief release. Abundant floods of warm aflection shower. OUR FATHER. 493 What fund of wisdom, wit. and anecdote From that prolific intellect outpoured ! How apt, how lavish, from his memory stored, Could he the royal bards and sages quote ! How Judges hearkened ; and the learned Shaw Exclaimed, as he, our father, argued oft With rivals of that day, on themes aloft, " He came to Berkshire county to learn law." But oh ! before the " august twelve," how vast; How irresistible, o'erwhelming powers Our sire displayed ; as through unheeded hours, Spellbound he held his wilHng captives fast ! We know some Httler men had larger sphere, — And we have lived the why to understand ; — But when and where he spake, was to command ; He feared no anakim, — he was their peer ! How oft, in afternoon of Sabbath day, Would he the psalmist and the seer intone ; Voicing the sacred text, as he alone Could render words earth's saints were born to say. (And there our mother and our sister sat, — What specimens of glorious womanhood ! — Both gone ; — O God ! I would not, if I could, Ee-break my heart upon a theme like that !) 494 POEMS. Brother ! whate'er we fail of, or acquire ; Wliate'er we lose in future, or secure ; One fixed, irrevocable boon is sure, — The certain sonship of a noble sire. S. B. S. THE END. THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY'S The Authors' Publishing Company will send any of tht following hooks by mail, postage prepaid^ to any part of tht United States^ on receipt of the price. HIGHER THOUGHT. Evolution and Progress: An Exposition and Defence. The Foundation of Evolution Pliilosopliically Expounded, and its Argu- ments (divested of insignificant and distracting physical details) succinctly stated; together with a review of leading opponents, as Dawson and Winchell, and quasi-opponents, as Le Conte and Carpenter. By Kev. AViLLiAM I. Gill, A. M., of Newark Conference, N. J. The first volume of the International Prize ISeries. Thtkd Edition. 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