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HDMKWARD FROM THE FIELDS SHE HIES, 
 NORA WITH THE NUT-BROWN EVES. 
 
THOUGHTS AND FANCIES 
 
 Ipocms anb ipicturcs of Xife anb mature 
 
 BY 
 
 ,/^^ 
 
 ^^C"'•"^ 
 
 MRS. MARY DF BRINE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "mother's SONGS," " GRANDMA'S ATTIC TREASURES," " PAPA's LITTLE DAUGHTERS,' 
 " FOUR LITTLE FRIENDS," " HITHER AND THITHER," ETC. 
 
 ALLAN BARRAUD, 
 
 W. H. J. BOOT, 
 
 E. F. BREWTNALL, R.W.S., 
 
 FRANK DADD, R.I., 
 
 M. ELLEN EDWARDS, 
 
 W. BISCOMBE GARDNER, 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 H. GIACOMELLI, 
 MARY L. GOW, R.L, 
 W. HATHERELL, 
 ALICE HAVERS, 
 DAVIDSON KNOWLES, 
 E. BLAIR LEIGHTON, 
 
 J. NASH, 
 W. H. OVEREND, 
 H. M. PAGET, 
 WILLIAM SMALL. 
 G. L. SEYMOUR, 
 A. STOCKS, R.I. 
 
 'Jll^-i^ ^l/' 
 
 (^, 
 
 O-c- 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE 
 
•c^ 
 
 ■ \^ 
 
 Copyright, 1S91, by 
 CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS^ 
 RAHWAV, K. J. 
 
■ ^ 
 
 
The Trystijmg Hour. 
 
 fOMEWARD from the fields she hies, 
 Nora with the nut-brown eyes. 
 Thro' the woods at close of day 
 Eagerly she takes her way. 
 \Vear\- .' Yes ; but knowing who 
 Seeks the little foot-bridge, too. 
 What cares she for weariness? 
 
 Her true laddie's fond caress 
 
 (As he comes his love to meet) 
 
 Soon her waiting hean will greet. 
 
 Then together, side by side. 
 
 At the happy eventide, 
 
 Hand in hand, with eyes aglow, 
 
 O'er the homeward path the^ll go. 
 
gi|iLiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiuinMiiiniinnuiumiB\uuimiiiiiiiiim^ 
 
 illlllilllllliliiiiilliliiiiillil 
 
 I<ove'^ Contf^adiction?. 
 
 ^H ! my love is as fair as the blossoms of May, 
 And sweet as June roses is she. 
 But what shall I do when the merry dark eyes 
 
 Refuse with her lips to agree? 
 My heart, she well knows, is for ever her own, 
 
 It slipped from my keeping one day ; 
 And tho' I made haste to demand its return, 
 The truant refused to obey. 
 
 She knows I am waiting an honest reply 
 
 To the question I asked — long ago. 
 Rut, alas ! while her eyes shine a positive " Yes" 
 
 Her saucy, red lips answer — ^^ No 1" 
 Now what can be done with a maiden like this ? 
 
 My heart on the qui vive remains, 
 First hoping, then longing, then coaxing, and then 
 
 Most cruelly teased for my pains ! 
 
 She's " in love with Dame Nature," she merrily says, 
 
 When I press her for sober replies ; 
 But there's somehow a glance that my heart beats 
 to see 
 
 When she lifts to my own her bright eyes. 
 
 There never was seen so provoking a maid, 
 
 Xor one so bewitching indeed : 
 And I am so truly her captive, that still 
 
 I'll follow where'er she may lead. 
 
 She may "love old Dame Nature," but I will love 
 best 
 
 The maid who is Nature's own child : 
 First playful, then sober, then grave, and then gay ; 
 
 Cruel at times, and then mild. 
 Oh! which are the truer— the eyes or the lips? 
 
 Of the two— which can lover believe ? 
 I'll trust the dear eyes, for red lips are oft false ; 
 
 But the iy«— they can never deceive ! 
 
We Two. 
 
 COME wife, dear woman, and sit by me, 
 For the toilsome day is done. 
 And many thoughts in my heart are born 
 With the setting of the sun. 
 Ay, give me your hand, my patient love, 
 
 That my own may clasp it tight. 
 Not dearer it was in the days agone, 
 Dear wife, than it is to-night. 
 
 Old and wrinkled it may be, dear, 
 
 But look you, wife, at the shine 
 Of the ring that has clung to your finger there 
 
 Since the day that I called you mine. 
 'Twas a long, long march from our youth to age ; 
 
 But Time, be he ne'er so gray, 
 Can never tarnish the lustre, dear. 
 
 Of the pledge of our wedding-day. 
 
 Look, wife, look out o'er the dear old pond I 
 
 How it lies 'neath the sunset's glow, 
 All bathed in the tints we liked to see 
 
 In those days of our long ago. 
 The lilies are sweet, the lilies are white — 
 
 As white as they used to be 
 When, after the duties of day were done. 
 
 You rowed on the pond with me. 
 
 Do you remember that one glad eve 
 
 When my heart o'erflowed at last ? 
 And the love I had feared to let you know 
 
 Came pouring so thick and fast 
 That it brought the beautiful blushes, love, 
 
 To your tender, dimpled cheek, 
 And you told your joy in your glowing eyes 
 
 Tho' your red lips dared not speak. 
 
 But you dipped your hand in the waters bright 
 
 -And gathered a lily for me. 
 And bade me wear it home, dear heart, 
 
 That all the village might see 
 That Dorothy, fairest of all the maids, 
 
 Had given her hand and love 
 To Reuben — truest of all the lads. 
 
 Ay ! true as the stars above ! 
 
We can see the spot on the bank, dear wife. 
 
 Where we landed that happy night 
 In the sunset's glow ; and I kissed your brow, 
 
 And clasped in my own so tight 
 The trembling hand that was mine — all mine, 
 
 And beneath the evening's dew 
 (Just as the stars began to shine) 
 
 Came home together — we two. 
 
 Ah ! love, the truth of that faithful love, 
 
 Born far in the auld lang syne. 
 In our steadfast hearts, thro' weal and woe. 
 
 Never has ceased to shine ; 
 But like the ring on your finger, dear. 
 
 Is bright and unbroken still, 
 Tho' many's the cloud w-e've passed beneath, 
 
 At the heavenly Master's will. 
 
 
 We're left — we two — to walk alone 
 
 In the twilight, dear heart, of life, 
 While our children wait at the shore above : 
 
 When shall we meet them, wife .' 
 Nay, dry those tears, and be glad with me 
 
 That tho' day is almost done, 
 We two are spared to each other still 
 
 At the setting of Life's low sun. 
 
14 
 
A "Wo^^A^'? 'Ky^Y.'" 
 
 OFFERED hand and heart and self 
 ^ To somebody — a wilful elf — 
 Who heard me through, then turned away, 
 And answered with a scornful " Nay ! " 
 In vain I strove to plead my case ; 
 No gentle pity touched her face, 
 As listening with polite surprise 
 She turned from mine her careless eyes. 
 
 Love driven back within my breast, 
 Pride volunteered to do the rest ; 
 I ceased to argue and implore, 
 And vowed to trouble her no more. 
 Then, lo ! the maiden's cheeks grew red. 
 And downward drooped the haughty head, 
 The sweet lips lost their careless smile, 
 And quivered as I paused the while. 
 
 15 
 
AuqugT Day3. 
 
 HESE are the soft, delicious August days, 
 Which so enwrap themselves in tender haze, 
 And peeping thro' the mist wiUi dreamful eyes. 
 Turn golden 'neath the glow of August skies. 
 The passing breeze stops lazily to play 
 With e\'ery leaf and flower on its way ; 
 Borrows the perfume from its playmates sweet, 
 Then dies, to make the August day complete. 
 
 I rest me idly 'neath the branches spread. 
 
 Like strong protecting arms, above my head ; 
 
 While memory paints a picture fair to see, 
 
 And sings an old-time melody to me. 
 
 Only a song which tells of love and truth, 
 
 In days when all things blossomed bright for youth, 
 
 When timid hearts, by tell-tale eyes betrayed, 
 
 Grew bold at last, and earth a heaven made. 
 
 And then, ah, me ! as if but yesterday. 
 Our parted li\es went each its chosen way. 
 1 see the pale, grave face, the saddened eyes 
 Tear-dimmed, yet blue as were the happy skies. 
 I hear the voice, low-toned, with grief suppressed ; 
 I hear the long-drawn sigh which shook her breast ; 
 And, ah ! I feel again the weight of woe 
 Which hid my siunmer 'neath the winter's snow. 
 
 16 
 
17 
 
The Te3t of the Dai^y 
 
 ^ I^EAVE^. 
 
 I^II ! daisy, what are you good for, pray, 
 f/ If you do not tell me the truth to-day, 
 As I count your leaves as white as snow, 
 To see whether somebody loves — or no ? ' 
 
 Softly she stole from her friends apart. 
 
 With a dimpling cheek and a fluttering heart, 
 
 To scatter the daisy leaves so white. 
 
 And test their charm for the wrong or right. 
 
 " ' He loves — loves not — he loves' — ah ! yes. 
 
 Dear little daisy, the truth confess ; 
 
 But I'll know you're wrong should your leaves say 
 
 'No!' 
 He /ova — for his eyes have told me so." 
 
 So over and over the words were said. 
 Till the last white leaf from the stalk had fled ; 
 But the secret hid in her heart none knew 
 20 Till she whispered it to ) ■sr lover true. 
 
TwiLlQHT Of\ THE BEy^CH. 
 
 ^'^ HE crimson glor)' of the setting suili 
 Hath lain a moment on the 
 ocean's breast, 
 Till twilight shadows, gathering one by 
 one. 
 Bring us the tidings, day is gone to- 
 rest. 
 
 Far out upon the waters, like a veil, 
 The mists of evening rise and stretch 
 away 
 Between the horizon and the distant sail. 
 And earth and sea are clothed irv 
 sombre gray. 
 
 The tide comes higher up the smooth, 
 wide beach, 
 Singing the song it has for ages sung ; 
 Recedes, and carries far beyond our 
 reach 
 The freight my idle hands have sea- 
 ward fluntj 
 
Over the white -capped waves the sea- 
 gulls soar 
 With heavy-flapping wing and restless 
 cry, 
 
 As darkness spreads its deeper mantL- 
 o'er 
 
 No voice but mine to mingle with the 
 sound 
 Of ocean's melody — as one by one 
 The stars light up the vast concave 
 around, 
 And live the glory that is never done. 
 
 Still higher creeps the tide with subtle 
 power, 
 And still the waves advance with 
 sullen roar ; 
 But with the last faint gleam of twilight 
 hour 
 I turn me homeward from the lonely 
 shore. 
 
H ! Matin Bells, which cheerily 
 If Ring out your morning song, 
 Would that I were a boy again, 
 With heart and will so strong, 
 To battle with the cares of life. 
 
 Life's duties well to do, 
 And — as in those dear days of youth — 
 To faith and hope be true. 
 
 I seem again to hear the call 
 
 Which ye did send afar. 
 As brighter grew the Eastern skies 
 
 Around the morning star. 
 And sweet and clear your echoes ring 
 
 Throughout my careworn heart, 
 Till age is lost in dreams of youth. 
 
 Which newer strength impart. 
 
 24 
 
ftwAKE)MIJMQ 
 
 fOW fair it comes, the wonderful hour 
 When nature from sleep awakes, 
 And over the face of the earth at last 
 A new-horn gladness breaks ! 
 The stars grow pale in the shadowy sky, 
 
 And over the mountains creep 
 The mists that are part of the waking world, 
 
 And part of the earth's sweet sjeep. 
 The restless birds in the tree-tops high 
 
 Are shaking their wings at last. 
 And chirp, and twitter their songs of praise. 
 
 As the dawn comes on so fast. 
 Rut who can tell of the wondrous charm, 
 
 When over the distant hills 
 The day's bright king in his glory comes 
 
 And the earth with radiance filU? 
 Now scatter, ye mists, from the mountain-side. 
 
 And die in the sky's soft blue ; 
 For the dawn has passed, and the day is here, 
 
 With its light and joy so true. 
 
-^ 
 
 "J^ET Well ^^nouqh Alone." 
 
 fT\y dear," said Mr. Bunny, on a pleasant summer day, 
 i&Mt " I'll go and take a look at things outside and far away 
 From this dull home of ours, where we've lived too long, you see- 
 Perchance I'll find a livelier place, my dear, for you and me." 
 
 26 
 
— s;~_i^ J i 
 
 
The CyvscADEs. 
 
 JLL day long they rush and roar, 
 And sing their mad song o'er and o'er ; 
 AH night long they roar and rush, 
 And the deep forest's solemn hush 
 Disturb, as down the mountain-side, 
 Now like a rivulet, then wide. 
 And wider still, they take their way 
 'Neath sunlight and thro' shadows gray. 
 Thro' day and night, as yeai'S go by. 
 Heedless of storm or summer sky, 
 Unmindful of our smiles or tears. 
 
 Unmindful of our hopes and fears. 
 28 
 
Living their own wild lives so free, 
 And singing their own songs merrily. 
 Now plunging swift o'er rock and crag, 
 
 Now creeping steadily among 
 The ferns and grasses by the way, 
 
 Then broadening till their foam is flung 
 At last adown the terraced bank, 
 
 Where cling the tangled vines so sweet. 
 Leaping from stone to stone until 
 
 Their lives the river-waters meet. 
 And wrestling with the currents there, 
 At last the river's burdens share. 
 

 fV 
 
 The 3owef(. 
 
 OVER the freshened earth the sower goes, 
 And drops the seed with patient, generous hand 
 Then waits in faith and trust, until at last 
 
 God's bounteous increase spreads the fruitful land. 
 It may be that his toil be partly vain ; 
 
 Since here and there the ground rejects his care : 
 But o'er and o'er he sows his seed, and still 
 
 With hopeful heart his labor doth not spare. 
 
 So in our hearts the tiny seeds may fall. 
 
 Sown by the Gracious Father, day by day ; 
 The timely word, the planting of a thought. 
 
 Which, blessed by God, His efforts must obey. 
 Yet should some hearts prove stubborn, hard and cold. 
 
 The patient Sower will not stay His love ; 
 But with long-suffering care will watch and wait. 
 
 Enriching us with blessings from above. 
 
 And as at last the earth returns to Him 
 
 Who planted it a harvest rich and free. 
 So may our Father grant our living souls 
 
 To Him an offering rich and true may be. 
 We welcome all His bounty giveth us. 
 
 The happiness with which our lives o'erflow ; 
 Then 'neath the sunlight of His glorious love, 
 
 Shall we not strive in truth and grace to grow ? 
 
Oh ! faith of childhood, pure, undimmed ! 
 
 Oh ! trust by mother neVr betraytd, 
 Oh ! sweet dependence, helpless love. 
 
 And hopes on mother ever stayed ! 
 Thus as I kneel at baby's side. 
 
 And as I look in baby's eyes, 
 I also turn for rest and love 
 
 To Him who watches from the skies. 
 
 As tenderly by night and day 
 
 His arms enfold me, this I know, 
 As mine thus clasp in gratitude 
 
 His gift, the child I cherish so. 
 And, oh ! tho' shadows deepen fast, 
 
 I will not fear tho' dark the night, 
 For His true eyes keep loving watch. 
 
 And somewhere waits the morning light 
 
 ?>?> 
 
 |;S'i;'i>i^li;.;j:i 
 
 If 
 
The Fre3h Pil^ Fuj^jd. 
 
 ^OME one! come all !" the farmer cries, 
 ^ W>th a hearty welcome in voice and eyes ; 
 "The fields are wide, and the flowers are free, 
 And the breezes are blowing right merrily ; 
 And there's plenty of sunshine to be had 
 For browning the cheeks of each lassie and 
 lad." 
 
 Oh ! fast the little pale cheeks grow brown, 
 
 As the golden sunbeams come tumbling down 
 
 To help the breezes which kiss so sweet 
 
 Each lad and lassie they chance to meet. 
 
 And the jolly old farmer cries, " Oh I oh ! 
 
 At last the dimples begin to grow ! " , < 
 
 There's never a bird but seems to sing 
 His happy song with a merrier ting. 
 Because of the ears which love to hear. 
 And the echoing voices so glad and clear. 
 And the farmer says to his wife, " 'Tis plain 
 A happiness shared is doubled again ! " 
 
 Oh ! the " Fresh Air Fund ! " may its years be 
 
 long, 
 Its friends be many, its influence strong ; 
 For fields are many, and flowers are free. 
 And the lambs of God's flock should joyous be. 
 And God holds ever the "Helping Hands" 
 That labour at home or in distant lands. 
 
"Heaviness Endureth but for a Night, 
 Joy Cometh in the Morning." 
 
 HAT tho' the night be starless, and sad, and cold, 
 and drear, 
 We know the moments passing bring morning 
 yet more near ; 
 We know the cloud of darkness is only for the night. 
 That daylight in ils dawning may only seem more bright. 
 
 What tho' our hearts are laden with many a load of pain, 
 We know the hand that gives them will lift them off again ; 
 We know that tho' so weary we're fain to weep for grief, 
 The light of God's own promise will surely give relief. 
 
 The night of sorrow lingering may coem to us so long 
 But God for all the darkness will make the light full strong ; 
 And as we turn to welcome the first faint ray of light. 
 How soon the morning's sunshine will make our sad 
 hearts bright I 
 
 36 
 
Yf IKE the ever-living spring 
 
 Whose waters freely flow 
 The' lake and river, brook and streanir 
 Are sealed by winter's snow : 
 
 So Christ's most precious promises 
 
 Refresh my thirsty heart, 
 And, as I drink, the waters clear 
 
 New strength and aid impart. 
 
 By night and day the fountain flows, 
 
 Nor storm, nor icy sleet 
 Can bind or check the steady flow 
 
 Of its cool waters sweet : 
 
 So Christ His love most freely gives 
 To those who thirst for life, 
 
 And all who drink, new strength will feel, 
 Come care — come woe — come strife. 
 
Qoif^q AF'TEF( THE CoV/^. 
 
 IfENNIE!" mother cries, "Jen-w/f.' 
 
 Why, where in the world can Jennie be? 
 She went for the cows an hour ago. 
 What ails the girl that she hngers so ? " 
 
 The sun goes down in the crimson west, 
 The tired day prepares for rest, 
 And the laggard moments slowly pass. 
 But bring no news of the truant lass. 
 
 " What ails the girl ? " The sober cows, 
 Stopping along the fields to browse, 
 May look in vain from side to side. 
 And wait the voice of their pretty guide. 
 
 For far behind, by the pasture gate, 
 Jennie — and Jamie — forget 'tis late, 
 Forget the cows, and the milking hour, 
 And everything else, save love's sweet power. 
 
 40 
 
 The lengthening shadows unheeded fall 
 The whip-poor-will with his plaintive call, 
 The gathering dews, and the darkening sky — 
 All warn in vain as the minutes fly. 
 
 Twice and thrice does mother go 
 To the farmhouse door, ere she hears the low 
 Of the cows, as they trample up the lane. 
 And the ring of the cow-bells, clear and plain. 
 
 But presently come the laggard feet 
 Of Jennie and Jamie. Oh ! shyly sweet 
 Are the girl's blue eyes as she stands before 
 The mother, who meets her at the door. 
 
 "What kept you so, my child? " " 1 ?— Oh 1 
 I was going after the cows, you know." 
 Then whispered Jamie, "Whatever you do, 
 Don't tell her that I — went after you i" 
 
The VioLETg, 
 
 '0-DAY I saw the violet -girl, with sad 
 and wistful eyes ; 
 She stands there by the corner, and " Sweet 
 
 violets ! " she cries. 
 From early morn till evening she wanders 
 
 thro' the street — 
 Poor little violet-seller — with tired hands 
 and feet ! 
 
 Only a violet-seller ! Oh ! ye children 
 
 who are glad. 
 Spare kindly words and glances to the 
 
 child whose heart is sad : 
 'oor patient little Maggie, with no 
 
 mother's kiss to bless. 
 No mother's arms to hold her in a sweet 
 
 and fond caress ! 
 
 42 
 
The l^EJECTED F(0?E. 
 
 Down by the roadside growing ; 
 Of other flowers, rich and rare, 
 
 And cultured, little knowing. 
 Content its blushing face to hide 
 
 'Mongst its own leaves, as straying 
 Bees came wandering by its side. 
 
 With idle zephyrs playing. 
 
 The rosebud blossomed out at last 
 
 Into the perfect flower ; 
 And plucked by one who sauntered past 
 
 Ere it had bloomed an hour. 
 Was tossed aside, alas ! poor rose I 
 
 Which sweeter grew when dying — 
 \nd left, all crushed and withering, 
 
 Upon the roadside lying. 
 
 Vou understand, you say with scorn, 
 
 While listening to my story.' 
 You know which rose one summer morn 
 
 You robbed of all its glory .' 
 Ah ! man, the heart you cast away 
 
 When so it served your pleasure, 
 My own, for many and many a day 
 
 Had worshipped without measure. 
 
 She knew it not. I was not worth 
 
 The love you held so lightly ; 
 But / could lift it from the earth, 
 
 The flower once blooming brightly — 
 The rose you threw away — ah ! yes ; 
 
 Again to toy with — never ! 
 But mine to worship and to bless, 
 
 To keep and hold for ever. 
 
 44 
 
The Clo^e of Day 
 
 ¥HE mantle of darkness is spread o"er the sky, 
 _ The last gleam of twilight is fading away, 
 And night, in advancing, her golden-starred veil 
 
 Has quietly laid o'er the face of the day ; 
 While the dew, or the tears of the day which is done. 
 Fall softly on earth, on each flower and spra)-. 
 
 2. 
 
 And what of the hours that since the bright morn 
 Have gathered the harvest of one day of life ? 
 
 Were they laden with deeds that were kindly and true, 
 And fit to soar skyward ? Or were they but rife 
 
 With thoughts born of sorrow, and hearts that were weak 
 From battling away amid trouble and strife? 
 
 'Tis said — and the saying brings comfort, we know — 
 That with twilight some angel draws pityingly near 
 
 To cover our woes with a sheltering wing. 
 
 And ease every heart of its burthen of fear, 
 
 And bear to the world far beyond the dark clouds 
 The prayers that are prayed amid many a tear. 
 
 46 
 
Or, if only gladness has fall'n to our lot, 
 
 To help us be thankful, the dear angel steals 
 
 Close — close to our hearts, till she enters within, 
 And life's sweetest blessings more truly reveals. 
 
 And the heart with new fervour looks upward in peace, 
 
 And the spirit, grown humble, at heaven's gate 
 kneels. 
 
 We can fancy ourselves at the feet of our Lord ; 
 We can feel on our brows the dear touch of 
 His hand ; 
 
 We can breathe in His ear all our full hearts may 
 hold. 
 Be the thoughts what we will. He will well under- 
 stand 
 All the longings, the yearnings ; and all will h^ peace 
 In the soul that is trusting, at Jesus' command. 
 
 ^^^^^jf There is sure to be sunshine and gladness again, 
 \f ^- And the brightness of blessings which hide all 
 the pain. 
 
 "To each life," says the poet, "some sorrow must 
 
 come ; " 
 Aye ! but clouds soon are lifted, and after the 
 
 rain, 
 And after the weeping, and after the woe. 
 
 Whatever the burden the hours may bear 
 
 Away with the day that has flown into space. 
 
 May the hour of twilight bring comfort to all, 
 
 And the mantle of darkness leave never a trace 
 
 Of its own hea\'y shadow, when morning shall dawn. 
 And a new day arise with a smile on its face. 
 
 47 
 
The JVIeadow L(Ake. 
 
 BROAU expanse of water rippling bright, 
 And dimpling into sparkles 'neath the light 
 Of a fair summer day, a golden day 
 With which the sunbeams and the shadows play ; 
 While on the hill-sides merrily the breeze 
 Is singing its sweet song amongst the trees. 
 Or, mad with frolic, 'neath the azure skies 
 To dip its pinions in the lake it hies. 
 
 Along the wooded shore the wavelets creep, 
 Singing the ferns and nodding grass to sleep ; 
 Kissing the grim old rocks till one by one 
 They shine and glisten 'neath the noonday sun. 
 The boats, which lazily swing to and fro. 
 Keep time to lullabies so soft and low. 
 Which round their keels the rippling waters sing 
 From morn till night, with love unwearying. 
 
 Now here, now there, from many a woodside tree 
 We hear the call of birds, and gleefully 
 The music of their song sweet echoes make 
 Across the bosom of the quiet lake. 
 Far off, beneath the shadow of the shore. 
 Some merry rower drops awhile his oar, 
 And faintly o'er the waters, sweet and clear. 
 The echo of his boat-song we may hear. 
 
 48 
 
Oh ! fair, sweet lake, all diamond-crowned, and gay 
 With the sweet blessing of the summer day ; 
 Thou perfect picture fi-om the Master's hand ; 
 Thou fairest of all spots on sea or land ; 
 Shut in by hills which bathe their staunch old fesi 
 In thy cool wavelets : kissed by zephyrs sweet 
 And guarded by the soft blue sky above, 
 No wonder that thy memory I love ! 
 
 Far, far away from thee my path must lie. 
 Apart from wooded hill and full free sky ; 
 Apart from shady glen and ferny road ; 
 Apart from Nature's fearless, loving code. 
 But in my heart thy memory I shall hold 
 Till memory and sense grow worn and old; 
 And many a silent echo will awake 
 Itself within my heart, fair meadow lake. 
 
 •m 
 
 ^■■?t^"*. 
 
 ;"^ -S^jf^ 
 
 49 
 
" Well," sighed she, " I'll not betray thee, thou art 
 
 safe with me " 
 Came the hunter then : " Oh ! maiden, didst thou 
 
 Cupid see ? " 
 " Nay," she answered, whilst in blushes her fair face 
 
 was steeped, 
 And Love, in fancied safety nestling, 'neath her 
 
 eyelids peeped. 
 I ital glance ! the maiden's secret quickly was 
 
 revealed. 
 Love, within the blue eyes hiding, soon was forced to 
 
 yield ; 
 Then the hunter, gay and daring, kissed the maiden's 
 
 face ; 
 ** Captives mine, for ever ! Love — and Love's sweet 
 
 hiding-place ! " 
 
 SI 
 
then with reverent hantls she'll lay 
 Book for a little while away ; 
 in the peace of her quiet room- 
 restfully thro" the twilight's gloom, 
 with thoughts that come and go, 
 flitting shadows, to and fro. 
 
 ■ Even to her old age," ah ! yes, 
 She has proven its truth and tenderness ; 
 She has known her Lord thro' her many 
 
 years, 
 She has trusted her Lord thro' hopes and 
 
 fears ; 
 She has felt His strength from her youth 
 
 till now, 
 When the hairs are "hoar" above her 
 
 brow. 
 
 " Even to your old age I am He ; 
 and even to hoar hairs will I carry 
 you : I have made, and I will bear; 
 even I will carry, and will deliver 
 you." (Isa. xlvi. 4.) 
 
 HE light is dim in the 
 western skies. 
 
 And dim the light in the 
 aged eyes ; 
 But the end of the chapter is so 
 
 near. 
 And the truths of the chapter 
 
 are so dear. 
 She must read to the close — till 
 
 the light goes past, 
 And life has vanished from day 
 
 at last. 
 
 He has borne her safely thro' floods of 
 
 Ke has made her daily His care to know, 
 And her faithful heart, in its humble 
 
 trust. 
 Feels all He does to be wise and just ; 
 For " fic 701U dclwcr" come grief and 
 
 pain, 
 And after the clouds send light again. 
 
 The dear Lord ruleth her life each day, 
 And now when cometh the twilight gray- 
 He still will read with His tender eyes. 
 So long as there's light in the western 
 
 skies. 
 To the end of the chapter ; then His breast 
 Will give to the ransomed soul its rest. 
 
 52 
 

 53 
 
The FiSHER'g DAUqHTEF(. 
 
 I^ITH the first faint streak of the day-dawn 
 She looks from her window's height, 
 For the fierce, wild rage of the sea is past, 
 
 And gone the blackness of night. 
 With the first faint flush of the sunrise 
 
 The tears in her eyes are dried. 
 For she sees the sail of her father's boat, 
 
 And over the distance wide 
 Her hiart a welcome is sending, 
 
 Making her glad eyes bright ; 
 " Thank God," she cries, " that he comes unharmed 
 
 From the dangers of the night ! " 
 
 Oh ! wild was the cruel tempest. 
 And loud was the angry loar 
 
 Of the midnight storm and the giant waves 
 
 As they lashed the lonely shore. 
 And timid the heart of the maiden 
 
 Who watched the long hours away, 
 In dread lest the life she loved go out 
 
 Ere the dawn of the coming day. 
 " And, oh ! should 1 lose thee, father ! " 
 
 She cried in her agony, 
 " Nor joy nor gladness ever again. 
 
 Nor safety shall be for me ! " 
 
 But now to the morning's breezes 
 
 She gaily flingeth her fears, 
 For the day-dawn shines on the spreading sails. 
 
 And the cool winds dry her tears. 
 No more she fears for the future. 
 
 For '■'■father" is close at hand. 
 And all forgotten the night will be 
 
 When she touches that father's hand. 
 
 Oh ! what if we lose " Our Father," 
 
 What if we lose His care .' 
 What if we fail to watch for Him 
 
 With never-ceasing prayer.' 
 What if the darkness hide Him, 
 
 The darkness of wilful sin ? 
 And the tempest beats, and the night grows wild. 
 
 And our lives are black within .^ 
 Oh ! what should we know of safety ? 
 
 Where should we turn for rest, 
 If never again in Faith we could lay 
 
 Our heads on the Father's breast ? 
 
 Let us watch and pray till He cometh 
 
 Safe out of the mist and rain, 
 And out of the doubt that clouds our hearts, 
 
 To gladden our lives again. 
 And we'll watch for the coming day-dawn, 
 
 When clouds and sorrow shall rise. 
 And the sight of the " Father " we long to see 
 
 Shall dry the tears in our eyes. 
 
 54 
 
55 
 
56 
 
A l^EfvlIf^IgCENCE. 
 
 If^.ENEATH the quivering arch of leaves, 
 '^^ Where sunlight flickered through, 
 While birds sang merry songs of love, 
 
 Each to its mate so true : 
 Where just below the mossy bank 
 
 The laughing stream flowed by, 
 We came with fishing-line and rod, 
 
 My blue-eyed May and I 
 
 Oh I how her merry laugh rang out. 
 
 Startling the birds above ! 
 And I forgot the shining fish 
 
 While whispering words of love. 
 And how the sunlight, falling through 
 
 The tangled web of green. 
 Came dancing down to crown her head- 
 
 My blue-eyed May — my queen ! 
 
 58 
 
Ah, me ! we were so happy then ; 
 
 So happy, she and I ! 
 How could we dream that clouds would drive 
 
 The sunshine from our sky ? 
 For I loved her with man's best love, 
 
 And her true heart was mine ; 
 And the dear truth I loved to read 
 
 Used in her eyes to shine. 
 
 But years have passed since then, and she 
 Hath with them passed away ; 
 
 And Nature smiles as merrily 
 
 As on that happy day. 
 The leaves, the birds, the bank, the 
 brook, 
 
 Their missions still fulfil. 
 But memory only cheers my heart 
 
 And keeps its murmurs still. 
 
 59 
 
T(0BII^ AND I. 
 
 'HAT if I were a lady fair, 
 
 Binding each day in my flowing hair 
 Gems and jewels all rich and rare ? 
 
 What if I owned my coach and four, 
 To stand each day at my stately door, 
 Or bear me in state my journeys o'er ? 
 
 Ah ! but I couldn't have Robin then ! 
 Robin, poor, but the best of men ; 
 And riches lacking, himself were vain. 
 
 What if my fingers, soft and white, 
 
 Were flashing with diamonds" brilliant light. 
 
 Dainty with gems so gay and bright ? 
 
 Ah ! mine are brown with the summer sun, 
 Hard with a toil that is never done. 
 But Robin loves them — e^•ery one ! 
 
 And if I wore dresses of satin sheen. 
 Garments fit for a " dame " or queen. 
 Why, Robin would know me not, I ween ! 
 
 So my own two feet, I'm ready to say. 
 Must be " coach and four " on market day, 
 To take me o\er the roads away. 
 
 And the only gems for my waving hair 
 Must be the beautiful sunbeams fair. 
 Which Robin and I together may share. 
 
 And this locket Robin has given me 
 Holds the only gems that I care to see — 
 The truest eyes that could ever be ! 
 
 63 
 
65 
 
Fof^ THE Sake of Psy^CE. 
 
 ^OB and I were playmates once, 
 
 Together used to laugh and cry ; 
 A youth and maiden are we now — 
 Oh, dear ! the years so swiftly fly ! 
 We tised to play — at lovers, too, 
 
 When we were children gay and free ; 
 And now, the rogue, he seems to think 
 That he should s'ilt my lover be ! 
 
 I really can't make up my m:nd 
 
 To quarrel with the foolish boy. 
 For maybe, if he went away. 
 
 My life would lose one-half its joy 
 And if the question I should try 
 
 To argue with him, why — you see, 
 Ip argument, e'en when a child, 
 
 Rob always got the best of me. 
 
 So now what would you really do ? 
 
 Rob has a word for all I say, 
 And, after all, my heart inclines 
 
 To let him have his own dear way. 
 Strange how persistent men can be ! 
 
 What can a timid maiden do ? 
 I think — just for the sake of peace — 
 
 I'd better — yield the point : don't you ? 
 66 
 
The Qoldejm Q/.te. 
 
 IPVEYOND the clouds the Golden Gate is waiting, 
 
 Which only angel hands can open wide, 
 And only they whose day of toil is ended 
 
 Pass in, and find their rest at eventide. 
 What may we know of all that there awaits 
 them, 
 Of joys which ne'er on earth their lives did 
 fill? 
 To them, and only them, is solved the mystery, 
 Whilst we, with vision dim, must wonder 
 still. 
 
 Oh, Golden Gate, by angel hands so guarded ! 
 
 Oh, Golden Gate that opens day by day ! 
 What of the dear ones who, thy portals passing, 
 
 Have faded from our earthly sight away.' 
 We read of realms of everlasting glory. 
 
 Of fields where flowers bloom, nor fade nor 
 die ; 
 May we not breathe the fragrance of their 
 blooming, 
 
 E'en tho' they blossom far beyond the sky? 
 
 Oh, Golden Gate, beyond the clouds now waiting ! 
 
 Thou openest to let the weary in 
 To where is only welcome rest eternal. 
 
 And nothing more of earthly strife and sin 
 Oh, life which lieth far beyond our \ision ! 
 
 Oh, rest eternal which our dear ones know ! 
 Oh, Golden Gate which openeth into glory ! 
 
 By faith we enter in, tho' yet below. 
 
 67 
 

 Ky^NJMETTE'3 L,0VEF^3. 
 
 1 ANNETTE stands out in the sunny porch, 
 Her lovers fond to see ; 
 She counts them all by the half a score, 
 Vet no coquette is she. 
 She has a smile for every one. 
 
 For all a kindly word, 
 And, as she counts her lovers o'er. 
 With pride her heart is stirred. 
 
 Nannette no special favorite knows 
 
 Amongst her lovers true ; 
 She trusts full well their love for her. 
 
 And well she loves them, too. 
 Or black or white, she does not care. 
 
 Or be they brown or gray ; 
 She greets each one with a cordial hand, 
 
 And waits their call each day. 
 
 Nannette, Nannette, what spell hast thou 
 
 These lovers fond to win? 
 The dimples play at hide and seek 
 
 Aljout her cheeks and chin ; 
 While to her eyes the answer flies, 
 
 Straight from her heart so true : 
 " Love calleth love ! " she gaily says, 
 
 " And wins what kind words woo.' 
 
 V 
 
 68 
 
69 
 
Qf^andma'p "ftutD L(ANq 3yne." 
 
 [RANDMOTHER GRAY by the window sat 
 And looked at the setting sun, 
 And watched the cows as they slowly came 
 From the pasture, one by one. 
 
 And back again to the long-ago 
 
 Her memory travelled fast, 
 While the dim eyes closed as she lived agaii> 
 
 'Mid scenes of the happy past. 
 
 70 
 
She was thinking over the youthful days 
 
 When there by the pasture gate 
 Young Robin, with milking-pail and stool, 
 
 For her coming used to wait. 
 Those days of courtship, tender and true i 
 
 How they thrilled her even now, 
 Tho" years had parted her love and her, 
 
 And '''e hair above her brow 
 
 Was white with the winter of life. " Ah, well ! " 
 
 She murmured, " the morn was bright, 
 Why should I grieve that the clouds hang low 
 
 With the coming shades of the night ? 
 For Robin and I, as man and wife, 
 
 Were ' lo\-ers ' for many a year. 
 And we're ' lovers ' still, tho' he dwells above. 
 
 And I am vet waiting here. 
 
 " The good Lord knows that it seems full long 
 Since He called my Robin away ; 
 
 And He knows that I am weary and old, 
 And would fain go any day 
 
 To meet the heart so tender, so true. 
 Which waits for me over there. 
 
 Where life is always )'Oung, they say, 
 
 And skies are forever fair." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 There came a time when the sun went down. 
 
 And the cows came slowly home. 
 As Grandmother Gray hy the window sat, 
 
 While her thoughts seemed still to roam. 
 But the angels came for her waiting soul 
 
 While the twilight shadows fell. 
 And beyond the stars dear Grandma went. 
 
 With " Robin " in joy to dwell. 
 
 71 
 
72 
 
The summer joys long since were past, 
 
 And winter's snows were o'er us ; 
 The twilight sky was cold and drear, 
 
 And night was just before us. 
 But though the way so weary seemed, 
 
 Yet John and I were merry ; 
 For said I not that home was near ? 
 
 And hearts and thoughts grew cheery. 
 
 And thinking o'er that walk to-day — 
 
 When John and I together, 
 Side close by side, came down the road, 
 
 All thro' the frosty weather — 
 I think of how, life's journey trod. 
 
 With trust forsaken never. 
 We've nearly reached at night that home 
 
 Where dwclhth rest Jorever. 
 
 73 
 
JVIy L(1ttle Flowef(. 
 
 THAT do I do for a living, you ask, 
 As the days and weeks go by ? 
 AVe gather the flowers and bring them to town, 
 
 And sell them, my baby and I. 
 Yes, baby helps me, young as she is. 
 
 For there's never a day or an hour 
 I fail to rejoice in her innocent love, 
 And I call her my sweetest flower. 
 
 Our home is only a cottage small 
 
 Outside of the city line ; 
 But poor as it is, we get our share 
 
 Of the beautiful summer shine. 
 And I gather wild flowers at early morn 
 
 To sell to you, ladies, here, 
 And we earn our living right merrily so, 
 
 I and my baby dear. 
 
 Yes, ladies, the daisies are white and fair, 
 
 And I love all flowers that grow. 
 But there's never a flower upon the earth 
 
 Like viy little flower — I know. 
 She holds the violet in her eyes. 
 
 The rose in her cheek so fair, 
 And the heart of the daisy, you can see, 
 
 Lies warm in her golden hair. 
 
 So, poor indeed tho' our lot may be 
 
 As the days and weeks go by, 
 No happier people ever were found 
 
 Than we — my baby and I. 
 Oh ! summer may spread over hill and olain. 
 
 Full lavishly hour by hour, 
 Her treasures of bud and of blossom, but ' 
 
 Hold ever — the sweetest flower. 
 
 74 
 
The Hay-Field. 
 
 H ! the charm of a summer day, 
 And a jolly ride for a load of hay ! 
 How the children shout and sing, 
 Till the very fields with their music ring ! 
 Down the lane, where the stately trees 
 Rustle and bow to the merry breeze ; 
 Past the brook, where the timid trout 
 From his hiding-nook peeps warily out, 
 To the meadow gate, where the bars swing wide 
 To let the creaking old cart inside. 
 Then, pile it in — the fragrant hay. 
 Pile it in on the summer day ; 
 Fill the cart till it overflows. 
 
 And on and on thro' the meadow goes 
 
 From mow to mow, till the work is done. 
 
 Now is the time for the children's fun ! 
 
 Out again with the wagon-load, 
 
 Swinging and swaying along the n^ad, 
 
 Bound for the barn where the doors stand wide. 
 
 With the sentinel maples at its side. 
 
 "Gee! Gee-haw!" "Now, youngsters there. 
 
 Hold hard, keep steady! So, have a care!" 
 
 And without a tumble, a bruise, or fall. 
 
 Horses, hay-cart, children and all. 
 
 Are safe on the old barn's grain-spread floor. 
 
 And grandpa knows that the fun is o'er. 
 
 75 
 
For Ea3ter-Tide 
 
 ^HE shadows of winter, so chill and so gray, 
 Have passed from the meadows and hill- 
 tops away ; 
 There's a shine in the skies 
 Born of Spring's merry eyes. 
 And the heart of the Earth groweth softer each 
 day. 
 
 See, how she releases from fetter and chain 
 Her treasures which spring into freedom again, 
 
 Till with beauty and bloom, 
 
 And with sweetest perfume, 
 Is filled every hill-side and meadow and lane. 
 
 But fairest of all things that blossom and grow, 
 Sweet as the summer, and pure as the snow. 
 
 Is the lily that tells. 
 
 Like the glad Easter bells. 
 Once more the sweet story which all hearts should 
 know. 
 
 Bloom out, fragrant lilies, bloom brightly and fair, 
 Breathe out your pure breath on the soft balmy 
 air ; 
 
 Fling your banners so white 
 
 Gaily out to the light, 
 For past is the lenten of sorrow and care. 
 
 76 
 
77 
 
78 
 
79 
 
The Chajmqed Se:a?ojm3. 
 
 ''ES, summer is at hand, I know, but on my breast 
 The cruel frost and winter's snow seem still to rest ; 
 Mow strange it is ! When all the earth was cold and drear, 
 Then 1 grew warm with love's sweet birth ; 'twas summer here 
 Within my heart — a season all my very own : 
 I quite forgot that leaves could fall, and winds make moan. 
 Nor storm nor cloud I heeded then, nor wintry skies, 
 For, ah ! I found my sunshine when I sought the eyes 
 Of him who made my summer-time in winter's reign. 
 Only to turn the joy-bells' chime to notes of pain. 
 For now, as earth grows fair and green, my heart turns gray, 
 The blossoms of its summer sheen — faded away. 
 Does it touch h -m, I wonder, too, this chilling frost ? 
 Oh I woman's heart so strong and true, tho' love be lost 
 To thee, be faithful unto death ! 'Twill not be long 
 Ere summer's shine, and winter's breath, blot out the wrong. 
 
 ^ ^n 81 
 
 80 
 

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