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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
"What is the Summer made of?" — Page 19. 
 
MEMORIES OF HOME 
 
 poems ano pictures of Xife ano IRature 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. MARY D> 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.I., 
 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. 
 
 
 wash i 
 
 MA 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE 
 
 
 <=\ ^o 
 

 CorYRiGHT, 1S90, 
 By 0. M. Dunham. 
 
 ^J 11 Rights Reserved. 
 
s5*3 
 
 Aftef^ the Shower. 
 
 'Wf TENDER sky — half tears, half smiles ; a sobbing breeze ; green meadows where 
 ^|3L A thousand diamonds glittering lie ; and in the soft, sweet summer air 
 The fragrance of reviving flowers, which lift their drooping heads again, 
 And the sweet scent of woodland ferns — after the welcome summer rain. 
 From every bush, and shrub, and tree, the quivering raindrops hang and fall ; 
 And twittering birds their wet wings shake, and plume themselves afresh, and call 
 Each other from the woodland groves ; while the glad earth grows bright again, 
 And sunshine floods the landscape o'er — after the welcome summer rain. 
 With sense of life renewed and fresh, the world seems fairer in our eyes, 
 And Nature, jubilant and new, smiles 'neath the light of joyous skies. 
 Back to the fields the farmer goes, and toil suspended, once again 
 Goes on, with vigor twice renewed — after the welcome summer rain. 
 
Qatherinq Flower? ijm JVIay 
 
 [ELCOME, welcome, beautiful May': 
 Welcome thou, and thy garlands gay ! 
 The earth is glad with thy sunny smile, 
 
 And sweet with the breath of new-mown hay. 
 Lavish of all thy glory, thou : 
 
 See ! thou hast flung thy treasures down 
 Till the earth is gay in her new-found wealth, 
 
 And jubilant in her floral crown. 
 
 Fairer thou art, oh, beautiful May ! 
 Than even thy sister, whose reign is o'er, 
 The blue-eyed April, who wept and smiled, 
 And softened the earth so cold before. 
 
 She sang of thee, and our hearts were glad 
 
 With thoughts of the joys sweet May would 
 bring ; 
 
 We longed for thee and thy merry hours, 
 
 Oh, thou most beautiful month of spring ! 
 
 There are sounds of pleasure o'er all the earth ; 
 
 There are sweet birds singing in bush and tree ; 
 There are laughing voices, and songs of mirth, 
 
 And joyous faces to welcome thee. 
 There are busy fingers in every field 
 
 Plucking thy treasures rich and rare ; 
 Oh, May ! so lovingly bountiful, 
 
 Welcomes must greet thee everywhere. 
 
10 
 
What ha£ Become of the Beautiful Day? 
 
 JzfHAT has become of the beautiful day? 
 
 Where have its bright hours gone ? 
 
 It seems but a, moment since, rosy and gay, 
 
 The glad summer morning was born. 
 And now the soft shadows of evening are here ; 
 The day slips away, and the night cometh near. 
 
 How have the glad moments gone, do we ask ? 
 
 What has become of our day ? 
 Ask the warm sunshine, whose golden rays fell 
 
 And stole the bright hours away. 
 Ask the soft clouds that far up in the sky 
 Helped the dear hours so lazily by. 
 
 Go ask the birds in the stately old elms, 
 
 Who sang away the sweet hours. 
 Look for the bees, and perchance they will tell 
 
 Who idled the day 'mongst the flowers. 
 And what say the leaves of the grand forest trees, 
 Which have whispered and frolicked all day with the 
 breeze 
 
 Oh ! who can tell how the bright day has gone ? 
 
 'Midst sunshine, and shadow, and play, 
 'Midst humming of bees, and the singing of birds, 
 
 Hath vanished the beautiful day. 
 But the peace and the joy which it gave to my heart 
 Thro' clouds and thro' sunshine shall never depart. 
 
 14 
 
"■" 
 
 fc;v] 
 
 :."■ ;-,■- 
 
 The Evenijmq F(est. 
 
 /\H ! welcome hour when, labor o'er, 
 
 The laborer seeks his home once more ; 
 The twilight hour, so doubly blest, 
 Which brings to man and beast the rest 
 So truly earned throughout the day, 
 Now passing with its toils away. 
 
 The laborer's wife, with face made sweet 
 By loving watch, his fond eyes meet 
 Beside the cottage, door ; the while 
 He smiles response, to baby's smile ; 
 And, ere he seeks his own repose, 
 With Dobbin to the manger goes. 
 
 And echoes of the vesper bell 
 On the sweet breezes rise and swell, 
 And seem to speak of love and peace, 
 Bidding the long day's turmoil cease. 
 And presently the twilight dies 
 Beneath the quiet starlight skies. 
 
 W 
 
I* 
 
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 i -WhW'-i W^l' r\i i?**V- F« ; " "■ ■■■■> \ 
 
 \ 
 
 
 But brown-eyed Nora — ah I 
 my heart 
 Ran mad with joy when 
 she came near. 
 
 Of this and that ere long we 
 
 talked, 
 
 Till Nora, in a sober fit, 
 
 On " Reaping that which we 
 
 have sown," 
 
 Began to moralize a bit 
 
 16 
 

 i^nfti fS^ ^iw 
 
The merry birds on twig and branch 
 Trill out the news with fluttering wings, 
 While Robin seeks the early fruit, 
 Impatient watching the green shoot, 
 And the glad tidings gaily sings. 
 
 The brook, grown weary of restraint, 
 Has burst its weakened bonds at last, 
 And rushing down the mountain-side, 
 Lends its fresh influence far and wide, 
 And Winter's icy reign is past ! 
 
 IS 
 
19 
 
Old Kinq Winter'^ Sonq. 
 
 § 
 
 II, I am the friend of the girls and boys ! 
 v I am the friend they love 
 When there's plenty of frost on the earth below, 
 
 And plenty of sunshine above ! 
 To me they look for the frozen pond, 
 
 All ready for skate and slide ; 
 To me they turn with their painted sleds 
 
 For a coasting hill so wide. 
 
 There is snow for the sleigh-rides far and near, 
 
 When the bells are ringing a chime 
 Of the merriest music in all the world, 
 
 As a tribute to winter time. 
 If I kiss the cheeks of the lasses, so 
 
 That they tingle awhile, what then ? 
 I must have my share of the fun before 
 
 The summer shall come again. 
 
 I deck the trees with a fringe so bright 
 
 That they glisten in sun or shade ; 
 And I scatter my snowflakes in the air 
 
 Till they fill each valley and glade. 
 And climbing up to the mountain-top, 
 
 Each shrub and tree I crown, 
 And I spread the whitest of covers o'er 
 
 The ground so barren and brown. 
 
 I'm hoary-headed and old, I know, 
 
 But the boys don't care for that ; 
 They're glad to welcome the jolly old king 
 
 Who wears the snow-brimmed hat. 
 For I am the friend of the young and strong,. 
 
 And a merry old soul am I, 
 When there's plenty of frost on the ground below, 
 
 And over it all blue sky. 
 
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 23 
 
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 Then I say, "Ah, Marguerite, 
 All my heart lies at your feet ! 
 Turn it to a garden fair, 
 It shall blossom 'neath your care, 
 Till it yield for you alone 
 Wond'rous sweetness — all your own ! ' 
 
 '■"V 
 
 Blushes deepen in her cheek 
 
 Ere the shy red lips can speak : 
 
 " Ah, but what it weeds should grow 
 
 'Mongst the flowers you bid me sow?' 
 
 " Love must pluck them out," I cry, 
 
 Growing bold with my reply. 
 
 
 ilSM 
 
 Out amongst her flowers sweet 
 Lingered long my Marguerite, 
 Sowing with her own glad smile 
 " Hea?-tsease " in my heart the while ; 
 Till the sweetest flowers had grown 
 Blossoming for her alone. 
 
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U ^1 R E S T. 
 
 *WLL winter long the snow has lain, 
 
 Like the wings of a brooding dove, 
 Over the spot where baby lies ; 
 And they chide the tears in my longing eyes, 
 
 And whisper, "She doubts God's love." 
 Is it because I doubt ? Ah, no ! 
 
 But only a mothers heart 
 Can measure the depths of a mother's grief, 
 Or welcome the tears that bring relief, 
 
 Tho' they may not heal the smart. 
 
But, oh ! do you think my little child, 
 
 As she entered the " golden gate," 
 There knew her father who long ago 
 Went away from his home below 
 
 For us to watch and wait ? 
 I placed a kiss on my baby's lips 
 
 Before the angels came ; 
 To send a message to him I tried, 
 And she, our little one, smiled and died, 
 
 Lisping her father's name. 
 
 UK 
 
 And I — I sit with my empty arms, 
 
 And empty, desolate heart : 
 I may have needed the chastening red, 
 For life was too bright a thing ; but God 
 
 Has taken the brightest part, 
 And naught but shadow for me 
 remains ; 
 And yet — and yet, I know 
 That botli my treasures, so far above, 
 Will plead with Him, in His wondrous love,. 
 To light my path below. 
 
 27 
 
ft $UMMER ftFTEF\NOOJ^. 
 
 DAISIED meadow lying fair under a summer sky ; 
 
 Sweet ferns and grasses bowing low to the zephyrs hurrying by ; 
 Over the woodland hangs the mist of the recent summer shower, 
 And the bees and butterflies idly flit through every wayside flower. 
 
 1 ■mmfa 
 
 
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 !• Over the quiet fields I come, watching with dreamful eyes 
 *Jj^ The clouds that fleecily, lightly sail over the tender skies, 
 V Watching the swallows stretch their wings in the wonderful 
 I space above, 
 
 And my heart soars up with a thankful prayer for the Father's 
 beautiful love. 
 
 The robin sits on the maple bough, singing his mate a song, 
 
 While little by little the day declines, and the shadows are growing long ; 
 
 And down the lane the cattle stray, cropping the tender grass, 
 
 While, swinging her sun-bonnet in her hand, follows the farmer's lass. 
 
 I hear the ring of the scythe and hone in the fields not far away, 
 And the merry hum of the mower's song, as he makes his fragrant hay. 
 Oh, day so fair from the Maker's hand ! oh, skies so soft and blue ! 
 Can thoughts be other than true and good when born from such as you ? 
 
 28 
 
At the JSeapojm of Thanksgiving. 
 
 ^.H ! Charity, dear messenger, 
 
 From heaven's courts descend, 
 And to our earth-born hearts the gift 
 
 Of thy swe:t influence lend. 
 Touch and arouse the slumbering eyes 
 Which do not wake to see 
 How other eyes grow dim with tears, 
 And hearts droop wearily. 
 
 Remind us, whom a Father's grace 
 Hath blessed with many a gift, 
 
 That there are those whom we may help 
 From sorrow's gloom to lift. 
 
 Quicken our sympathy, our love ; 
 Our mercies let us share ; 
 
 3° 
 
Let the glad sunshine of our lives 
 Spread o : er sad lives of care. 
 
 Sweet Charity, we will not close 
 
 Our ears to thy soft voice ; 
 For every impulse born of thee 
 
 Must make some heart rejoice. 
 Then come, come quickly, Charity ! 
 
 And all throughout our land 
 On waiting hearts, or cold or warm 
 
 Lay thine own blessed hand. 
 
 And may the Lord, who ever heeds 
 
 And marks the sparrow's fall, 
 Help us to know, whate'er our deeds 
 
 He sees and marks them all. 
 By day and night, thro' storm and shine, 
 
 Whate'er our lives may be, 
 God grant these gifts of His delight — 
 
 Faith, Hope, and Charity ! 
 
 3 1 
 
The Old Foot- 
 path. 
 
 /\ H, dear old footpath ! day 
 by day 
 
 You lie 'neath skies or blue 
 
 or grey ; 
 Across the meadow 'neath 
 
 the hill, 
 
 Where shadows come and go 
 at will. 
 
 Safe home from distant lands 
 once more, 
 
 My busy memory travels o'er 
 
 Long years of mingled joy and pain, 
 
 And takes me back to youth again. 
 
 Just there beneath yon linden tree 
 
 My little sweetheart watched for me, 
 
 To greet me with her tell-tale face, 
 
 Where love had marked its own sweet trace. 
 
 I wonder where that dainty maid 
 
 Thro' all these years gone by has strayed ; 
 
 Or did some new swain's eager feet 
 
 A pathway make o'er grasses sweet, 
 
 And bend the nodding daisies low, 
 Whilst two walked slowly to and fro ? 
 And, oh ! old path, none ever knew 
 The lovers' secrets trusted you. 
 
 Well, Time has many changes 
 rung 
 
 Since my young lips its praises 
 sung ; 
 
 But all unchanged, old friend, are you 
 
 To whom my memory still is true. 
 
 Your rugged breast is scarred each day 
 By careless feet which o'er you stray, 
 And many a hidden foot-print lies 
 Unnoticed 'neath the changing skies, 
 Feet that once trod you, now at last 
 For ever rest — their journey past. 
 And who may know, old path, if e'er 
 My feet again shall tread you here ? 
 
ft Handful of Flowers. 
 
 fUMMER is gone, and the autumn winds 
 
 Are stripping the leaves frim the trembling 
 trees ; 
 
 The garden is lonely, its treasures are blown 
 Far, far away on the chilling breeze ; 
 
 The sk'es have lost their wonderful blue, 
 
 And darken and change with the changing 
 year ; 
 
 And the dead leaves lie on the roadside brown, 
 Since nature has grown so sad and drear. 
 
 I walked alone o'er the garden path : 
 
 My heart was troubled with gloom and 
 doubt. 
 " Alas ! " I thought, " for the many sweet things 
 That have gone with the beautiful summer 
 out!" 
 
 Down the walk on her dancing feet 
 My one best treasure came merrily. 
 
 Her dear voice rang thro' the frosty air : 
 "A handful of flowers! See, 
 mother, see ! 
 
 " They were all I could find 
 that the cold had 
 spared, 
 
 But they waited to cheer 
 us a little while ! 
 
 And I guess, mamma, that 
 the summer meant 
 
 To say good-bye with 
 just one last smile ! " 
 
I gathered my darling within my arms, 
 The blue of summer was in her eyes, 
 
 And the pure, sweet heart I knew was full 
 Of the beautiful sunshine of summer skies. 
 
 Oh ! hearts that weep, and are prone to yield 
 To the touch of gloom in this world of ours, 
 
 Go search yourselves, and you'll always find 
 
 That there still remains a "handful of flowers." 
 
 Ah ! autumn might come with frost and gloom, 
 And shadows might come and go at will, 
 
 Sut the Lord of heaven and earth was good 
 
 To spare my heart's garden one flower still ! 
 
 The joys He had taken would live again 
 
 In His own fair garden of peace and rest ; 
 
 And I said in my heart, " Come shadow or 
 shine, 
 The dear Lord doeth and knoweth best. 
 
 *' Tho' over my life a cloud has passed, 
 
 And the glory of summer I may not see, 
 
 If I search my heart I am sure to find 
 A 'handful of flowers' yet left for me. 
 
 Pit. 
 
 * And winter will pass in its own good time, 
 And the verdure now dead will live again : 
 
 And peace, and trust, and faith, and love 
 
 Shall all be born from my present pain." 
 
 So I lifted mine eyes from the leaf-strewn ground, 
 
 And looked far off at the autumn sky, 
 And I knew that the shadows 
 that dimmed its blue 
 Would vanish and fade in 
 the " by-and-by." 
 
QuAptDjVlOTHER'jS ThOUQHT?. 
 
 Throughout the aged heart still true and strong ? I For the mercies which have blessed her life s o long. 
 " For like stitches on my needles," says this happy Grandma Gray, 
 " So He multiplies my blessings and increases them each day. 
 
 37 
 
And, ah ! how oft, as the days go by, 
 
 She starts, as her listening ear 
 Has almost caught on the sighing breeze 
 
 Voices so soft and clear. 
 " Tis the angels calling ! " she thinks. " Ah, me ! 
 
 It is weary waiting here ! " 
 
 The miller comes from his work at last, 
 
 In the dusk of the autumn day, 
 And he sits him down by his faithful wife, 
 
 And strokes her locks so gray, 
 And looks in her face with a loving smile 
 
 That years steal not away. 
 
 And back again as her dim eyes turn 
 To the hill where the shadows fall, 
 
 She thinks, ' ' My treasures are lying there 
 But He hath not taken all, 
 
 Since one beside me is waiting still 
 Till the angel voices call." 
 
 But the weeks are slow, and the aged two 
 
 In the dusk of many a day 
 Will watch the shadows that come and go 
 
 O'er the meadows lonely and gray, 
 Ere they, at the angels' call, may lie 
 
 Where their treasures are laid away. 
 
 39 
 

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41 
 
JC^RETTY Juliette, with the rose on her cheek, 
 
 And a light in her happy dark eyes, 
 Ccmes merrily home with her heart all aglow, 
 
 And bright as her own native skies. 
 The madre looks long at her child's little hands, 
 
 So rosy from fingers to palm. 
 "What hath reddened thy hands, mia figlia?" she asks, 
 
 Her heart filled with sudden alarm. 
 
 " Ah, madre m!a ! " comes the answer gay, 
 " I plucked some red, red roses by the way." 
 
 Pretty Juliette, with a song in her heart, 
 
 Where happiness sweet overflows, 
 Another time comes from her walk in the glen, 
 
 And her lips are as red as a rose. 
 " Oh, child ! " cries the mother, and looks in her face, 
 
 " Say, why are thy young lips so red ? " 
 Lo, blushes creep over the pretty soft cheek, 
 
 And down droops the modest young head. 
 
 ' Ah, madre mia," comes the answer low, 
 
 " It was the red, red berries stained them so." 
 
 42 
 
Another time homeward comes pretty Juliette ; 
 
 But her heart has forgotten its song, 
 And her cheek and her lips are as" pale as the snow. 
 
 And her feet on the way linger long. 
 The mother looks close at the white, weary face. 
 
 " Carissima figlia ! " she cries. 
 "What hath chased from thy cheek the sweet blush of 
 the rose ? 
 
 What hath darkened the light in thine eyes ? 
 
 "Ah, madre ! madre mia!" is the cry, 
 "Hold me upon thine heait and let me die! 
 For when my hands were red, his pressed them so ; 
 It was his kiss which stained my lips ; his low, 
 Persuasive voice filled all my heart with song, 
 And made mine eyes to shine, and my step strong. 
 But love is false ! ah, madre, love lies dead ! 
 Can roses bloom when summer's sun hath fled?''' 
 43 
 
FOUND, far out on the snow-mapped moor, 
 The child that had gone astray ! 
 Found, by a friend who was strong to save, 
 And snatch from death away 
 The little lost lamb of a mother's flock, 
 
 So far from the sweet home (old, 
 And safely borne to a mother's breast, 
 For a mother's arms to hold. 
 
 I take the stery to heart, dear Lord, 
 
 )"or a wandering sheep am I ; 
 Far, far astray from the one true fold, 
 
 And out 'neath a wintry sky. 
 There find me, oh, Thou mighty friend, 
 
 And bear me in Thine arms 
 To the haven of heaven, where never heart 
 
 Can tremble with earth's alarms. 
 
GRANDPA AND Hip "DeA^. 
 
 ipf AN any one say what fun there is 
 
 In the thoughtless use of a gun, 
 Which takes its aim at an innocent life. 
 
 And, lo ! that life is done ? 
 The merry, happy, warbling birds, 
 
 Tho' roguish they may be, 
 The song they sing is pleasanter far 
 
 Than the bang of a gun — to me. 
 
 "When I was a boy," said Grandpa Gray, 
 " I thought, ' Now, like a man, 
 
 I'll take my gun to the fields, and bag 
 As many birds as I can.' 
 
 " So off I went, and I banged away, 
 
 With no thought of the pain I gave, 
 Till I presently met. a sweet young miss 
 
 Trying one bird to save. 
 It had fallen near with a wounded wing, 
 
 And the look in her face so sad 
 Went straight to my heart, and I felt ashamed 
 
 Of myself for a heartless lad. 
 
 " Well, after that, I never could aim 
 At an innocent bird again, 
 
 But — I took to hunting after the deer 
 And I did not hunt in vain ; 
 
The New J_,esson. 
 
 CJO you're learning a lesson, maiden fair, 
 
 Tho' a schoolgirl never more : 
 Learning a lesson with all your heart 
 
 That you never have learned before. 
 The sunbeams herald the gladsome day, 
 And over the world they dance and play, 
 While you are conning with heart so gay 
 
 Your sweet new "lesson" o'er. 
 
 You are " somebody's queen ; fair, gracious, sweet ! " 
 
 You know — for that letter at rest, 
 Safe hidden from curious eyes, my dear, 
 
 'Neath the folds on your gentle breast, 
 Has over and over in every line 
 Told you that story — oh ! maiden mine — 
 And the reading has filled your eyes with the shine 
 
 Of your own love half confessed. 
 
 Many a lesson you've learned, dear child, 
 
 In the schoolgirl days gone by ; 
 And some were easy, and some were hard, 
 
 Bringing a frown and sigh. 
 But, oh, to be learning a lesson like this ! 
 When studying it brings such a measure of bliss ! 
 And the learning — is helped by a lover's kiss : 
 
 It is pleasure that never can die. 
 
 As the morning heralds the full, bright day, 
 
 You stand with your hopes and fears 
 On the very threshold of womanhood, 
 
 Crowned with your nineteen years ; 
 Which have gathered you laurels, one by one, 
 Till the days of your childish plans are done, 
 And the work of your womanhood scarce begun, 
 Either for smiles or tears. 
 
 So keep your secret, 'tis all your own, 
 
 But the smile that dimples your cheek, 
 
 And the happy light in your eyes, betray 
 What your lips refuse to speak. 
 
 And the sun shall gleam, and glimmer, and play 
 
 Over the waters, and far away, 
 
 And then — at the close of a happy day 
 Some one his answer will seek. 
 
The Brook's I_,a;3t Soj^q. 
 
 WHE brook goes gently murmuring 
 
 On its accustomed way, 
 Thro' meadow grasses singing, 
 
 Thro' forests old and gray ; 
 But its song seems strangely dreary 
 
 On this October day. 
 
 " Oh ! fragrant grasses bending 
 To kiss me as I go, 
 
 Well may my heart be dreary, 
 Well may my song be low. 
 
 And each succeeding ripple 
 Be noiseless in its flow. 
 
 52 
 
«' For day by day my pulses 
 
 Must yet more slowly beat, 
 Till comes a time— oh, daisies ! 
 
 When never more shall meet 
 Tour fragrant lips my waters 
 
 In kisses soft and sweet. 
 
 " Oh ! lovers who have lingered 
 
 Full many a time with me 
 To talk your foolish nonsense 
 
 With lovers' harmony, 
 But yet a little longer 
 
 Your servant I can be ! 
 
 *' For know you not, the hour 
 
 Comes near when winter's king 
 
 Shall freeze my lips in silence 
 With icy covering ? 
 
 And I shall die in sorrow, 
 
 Crushed 'neath his cold, white wing." 
 
 And slowly, yet more sternly, 
 
 The brook goes on its way 
 Thro' ferns and drooping 
 grasses, 
 And thro' the forests gray, 
 And its song is yet more—-' 
 feeble — 
 More plaintive day by day. 
 
 
IIThe Three Kittiejb 
 
 them 
 
 €iNE was fair as fair could be, 
 _r The others black — (she thought 
 pretty) ; 
 And I — of only one I dreamed, 
 
 And she — she was — the other Kitty. 
 She loved the others, I loved her, 
 
 And full of mischief were the three ; 
 But, ah ! at last kind fate contrived 
 To give the winning card to me 
 
 With blue eyes closed, and head thrown back,, 
 
 Within the easy chair sat Kitty. 
 Thought I, " If now a pair of gloves 
 I may not win, 'twill be a pity." 
 And as I softly reached her side, 
 
 The red lips parted with a murmur. 
 And, oh, what joy ! she breathed my name ! 
 Within my heart hope grew still firmer. 
 
 "Dost love me, Kitty?" whispered I ; 
 
 And soft in sleep came back her answer 
 I love thee not ! " I stood aghast, 
 
 Till love urged, " Kiss her while you can, sir." 
 But, ah ! the blue eyes swift unclosed, 
 
 And glanced at me with mirth o'erflowing ; 
 Thought I, " I'll let her think awhile 
 
 That I've heard something worth the knowing." 
 
 Then drawing near, I slily said, 
 
 " Fair maid, your dreams have well betrayed yoa.' : 
 "For shame ! " cried she, " to steal my thoughts, 
 
 And get my slumbering tongue to aid you ! " 
 All penitent, I humbly said, 
 
 " But, ah ! the secret in my keeping 
 Has made me sad." Then murmured she, 
 
 "One never tells the truth while sleeping !" 
 
 54 
 
', s> 
 
 
 4fi 
 
 ^^^M^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 WAITI^q FOR "jVlOTHER." 
 
 » HE old man sits in his easy chair 
 
 Slumbering the moments away, 
 Dreaming a dream that is all his own 
 On this gladsome Christmas day. 
 His children have gathered from far and near, 
 
 His children's children beside, 
 And merry voices are echoing through 
 The " Homestead's" halls so wide. 
 
 But far away in the years long flown, 
 
 Grandfather lives again ; 
 And his heart forgets that it ever knew 
 
 A shadow of grief or pain. 
 For he sees his wife as he saw her then, 
 
 A matron, comely and fair, 
 With her children gathered around his board, 
 
 And never a vacant chair. 
 
 Oh ! happy dream of the " Auld lang syne," 
 
 Of the years long slipped away ; 
 And the old man's lips have gathered a smile, 
 
 And his heart grows young and gay. 
 But a kiss falls gently upon his brow 
 
 From his daughter's lips so true : 
 " Dinner is ready, father, dear ; 
 
 We are only waiting for you." 
 
 The old man wakes at his daughter's call 
 
 And looks at the table near : 
 "There's one of us missing, my child," he says ; 
 
 "Call mother— she is not here ! " 
 There are tears in the eyes of the children then, 
 
 As they gaze on the empty chair ; 
 For many a lonely year has passed 
 
 Since "Mother" sat with them there. 
 
 But the old man pleads still wistfully, (> 
 
 " We must wait for mother, you know ! 
 So they let him rest in his old armchair 
 
 Till at last the sun sinks low. 
 Then, leaving a smile for his children here, 
 
 He turns from the earth away, 
 And has gone to " Mother " beyond the skies, 
 
 With the close of the Christmas day. 
 
 55 
 
JVIy Ship — my Captain. 
 
 T SAID in the gladness of my heart — 
 
 Only a little while ago — 
 "A ship is hastening home from sea, 
 And her bonny captain is thinking of me, 
 And fast the good winds blow ! " 
 
 So I watched the waves, and I watched the 
 clouds, 
 
 Wandering down by the shore each day, 
 Till I longed for the sea-gulls' wings, that I 
 Over the billows swift might fly 
 
 To meet my love half-way. 
 
 Last night they whispered the ship had come— 
 
 My ship that was sailing over the sea ; 
 And now in the morning's ruddy glow 
 They show me a ship that is lying low ; 
 But what is that to me? 
 
 My ship was strong, and her crew were 
 brave. 
 
 Her captain — ah ! — was my captain too, 
 And he promised to meet me safely here 
 Some day when the sea and sky were clear, 
 
 And when was his word untrue ? 
 
 "But this? — why, this is a battered thing, 
 
 And her crew, they tell me, are lost and dead ! 
 My captain had always a kiss for me 
 When he came before from over the sea ; 
 But there, 'neath yonder shed, 
 
 56 
 
Lies one with a face so white and still! 
 
 And lips that never a word will speak ; 
 And they say— alas ! but I know — I know 
 My sailor would never lie silent so, 
 
 With my tears upon his cheek. 
 
 Oh ! let me think that my ship will come, 
 
 So long I've waited, it must not be 
 That this is the way— so fast— too fast— 
 My ship, storm-driven, and wrecked at last, 
 Came over the waves to me ! 
 
5§ 
 
59 
 
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6i 
 
Come, little folks— the fields and lanes 
 
 Are lonely now without you ! 
 The birds are all in tune to sing 
 
 Their sweetest songs about you. 
 The old barn doors stand open wide, 
 
 The brooks with fish are teeming ; 
 And over hill, and dale, and lake, 
 
 Dame Nature's smiles are beaming. 
 
 Come, one and all, from far and near, 
 
 And sound the summer's praises, 
 Whilst racing through the clover fields, 
 
 And nestling 'mid the daisies. 
 Make wreaths of roses crimson-red, 
 
 Your bright young heads adorning, 
 For summer-time was made for you, 
 
 And June is summer's morning ! 
 
 "Vacation is the time for fun !" 
 
 All girls and boys are saying, 
 When school and books grow wearisome, 
 
 And hearts are ripe for playing. 
 So, little folks, come, one and all, 
 
 And tumble out together 
 Amid the sunbeams' golden li 
 
 All in the sweet lune wea 
 
 63 
 
JVIy Boyhood'? Home. 
 
 BO near the scene of my boyhood's home ! 
 Ah ! were I still but the merry boy 
 Whose careless life on the dear old spot 
 Was ever content and full of joy ! 
 
 There I roamed at will o'er the meadows green, 
 And stood at a tender mother's knee, 
 
 And played with the brother whose fresh young heart 
 Was big with the love it held for me. 
 
 How oft I think of the dear old days 
 
 When we came together, dear Will and I, 
 To watch the shadows reflected here 
 
 From the fleecy clouds of a summer sky ! 
 How well he loved the fisherman's life 
 
 That lay before us — the fisherman's boys ! 
 And how he grieved when I left our home 
 
 To taste of other and distant joys ! 
 
 Ah ! years have fled since that happy time, 
 
 And I am a man now, old and grey ; 
 And mother, and father, and many friends 
 
 Have long since passed from the earth away. 
 My face is scarred with the toils of life, 
 
 I've known temptations, and fought them 
 through ; 
 And who shall say that the victories gained 
 
 Have not to the dear old home been due? 
 
 There's never a life but soon or late 
 ^ The tempter's power must feel and know, 
 
 And happy that heart which takes its strength 
 From the truths it learned in the "long 
 ago." 
 Oh, dear-loved scene of my boyhood's home ! 
 
 I bare my head in honour of thee ; 
 And I know that, wanderer tho' I am, 
 
 My brother a welcome will have for me ! 
 
' %? " : 
 
 The Sonq of the {Sportsman. 
 
 V ET who will sing of summer with its skies so soft and blue, 
 
 To the merry, brown old autumn the sportsman"s heart is true ; 
 
 Then we listen to the crack of our rifles sharp and clear, 
 
 And we bag our game all quickly with a ringing shout and cheer. 
 
 Oh ! the hill-side, it is golden ; and like the sunlit seas 
 Are the fields of yellow corn as they rustle in the breeze ; 
 And the river gleams like silver beneath the autumn sky, 
 And o'er its rippling bosom, see ! the wild ducks flap and fly. 
 
 From the gorgeous-hued old forest comes the pipe of many a bird, 
 And the marshes with the rustle of the shy reed-birds are stirred. 
 And heavily come homeward the laden harvest wains, 
 And the farmer's heart is merry as he views his harvest gains. 
 
 68 
 
Oh ! there's much to say good-bye to when summer goes away— 
 The sweet, soft time of summer, that cannot always stay ; 
 But there's much, so much to welcome with the ripe September days, 
 And the earth grows fuller— richer in October's golden haze. 
 
 Then, ho ! brothers, let us sing of the days to us so dear ; 
 
 Let us say good-bye to summer, let us welcome autumn here. 
 
 Bring your rifles and your pouches, and to the lake-side hie, 
 
 For "there's game upon the wing, my lads, and sunshine in the sky ! 
 
 69 
 
The Noon I^ecejsp. 
 
 iCk H ! how the merry laugh and shout 
 
 Of happy little folks ring out 
 Upon the soft and balmy air, 
 Sending sweet echoes everywhere ! 
 Who but the children can express 
 Half the delights of " Noon Recess '• ? 
 When from the books and study free, 
 Their little hearts o"erfull of glee, 
 No rule may meddle with the fun, 
 That's all their own — from twelve to one ! 
 
 Alas ! for little lad or lass 
 
 To whom it may have come to pass 
 
 That naughtiness has brought about 
 
 No right to join in " laugh and shout ; * 
 
 Who all this recess hour must spend 
 
 On study bench without a friend, 
 
 While on the angry little face 
 
 The scowls and tears leave many a trace : 
 
 Poor little captive ! noon recess 
 
 Has lost all charms — vou will confess. 
 
 70 
 
Ah ! well, this life is but a school, 
 Where we must yield to rod and rule. 
 By some mysterious, stronger power 
 We sometimes lose our recess hour. 
 But even so, if loss of " fun " 
 
 Should mark some needed victory won, 
 The discipline must in the end 
 Prove to have been our wisest friend : 
 And when our recess hour we earn, 
 With added zeal to it we turn. 
 
 71 
 

 
 At the Twijliqht Hour. 
 
 SOFT, sweet fragrance in the air 
 Of dew-wet flowers. Everywhere 
 A tender, restful silence lies, 
 Born of the misty, distant skies ; 
 Whence twilight shadows slowly fall, 
 Like gauzy curtains, over all. 
 The meadows stretch so mistily, 
 
 Far as my longing eyes can see ; 
 And yonder, forest hides away 
 In its own darkness from the day; 
 And tinkling cow-bells ring in time 
 To yonder streamlet's slumbrous chime; 
 And o'er sweet Nature's paling face 
 Night letteth down her veil apace. 
 
 72 
 
In the Paf^k. 
 
 THING of beauty is a joy for ever I" so they say; 
 And what more lovely than a park upon a summer's day, 
 With green above, and green below, and sunshine over all, 
 And merry birds that chirp, and sing, and to each other call ? 
 But better far the deep, wide woods, where man has laid no hand, 
 And where the grandeur so sublime by God's own skill was planned, 
 
Why the Daisies />re White. 
 
 /f\NCE on a time a quarrel rose, 
 
 ^ 'Tis said, between impatient Spring 
 
 And that old Greybeard Winter, who 
 
 Yet longer to his throne would cling. 
 " My turn it is," quoth Mistress Spring, 
 
 "To reign, and clothe the earth anew. 
 How long must all my beauties lie 
 
 Concealed, for fear of such as you?" 
 
 Then to the sunbeams, coaxingly, 
 
 She turned and said, "To you alone 
 I look for help earth's chains to loose, 
 
 And drive this loiterer from the throne." 
 So, tempted by her smiling face, 
 
 .The sunbeams answered to her call, 
 And tho' old Winter battled well, 
 
 His kingdom soon began to fall. 
 
 " But if you think," he coldly said, 
 
 " All trace of me to wipe away, 
 My memory still shall haunt and lie. 
 
 Upon your meadows day by day." 
 And on that night a messenger 
 
 By Winter sent to Daisyland — 
 Upon each daisy blossom laid 
 
 A sheet of snow with lavish hand. 
 
 And Mistress Spring, when she beheld 
 
 The souvenir of Winter's reign, 
 Smiled, as she softly kissed her pets, 
 
 And foiled his purpose once again. 
 For in the heart of each white flower 
 
 She laid a bit of golden sun ; 
 And bade it nestle closely there 
 
 Until sweet daisy-life were done. 
 
 And thus the fair field flower grew : 
 
 Spring's golden sunshine, warm and bright, 
 
 At rest for ever in its heart, 
 
 The while its leaves, like snow, are white. 
 
 75 
 
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 JVIy Apf^il J_,ove. 
 
 TjfT'N April maiden is my love, 
 
 Sc full of moods is she, 
 I hardly know, to tell the truth, 
 Which mood most pleaseth me. 
 Her smiles are as bewildering 
 As April's sunniest day ; 
 So tender, I am fain to wish 
 
 They ne'er might pass away. 
 
 * ^ ■ .- , 
 
 7 6 
 
But if my love doth charm me so 
 
 When she with mirth o'erflows, 
 How can I tell the wondrous spell 
 
 Her sadness o'er me throus ? 
 Like violets bathed in morning dew 
 
 Her soft eyes seem to be ; 
 And then I think she's dearer yet 
 
 Than e'er before to me. 
 
 All smiles and tears, my little love 
 
 Is like an April day ; 
 For sunshine giveth place to clouds— 
 
 By sunshine chased away. 
 Ah, me ! which mood doth please me best 
 
 I fear will ne'er be known ; 
 But what care I, since in them all 
 
 Her heart is all my own ! 
 
L UT on the sands we walked — three friends — ■ 
 To watch the sea-gulls dipping low, 
 While gently murmuring at our feet 
 The waters rippled to and fro ; 
 And merrily and happily 
 
 We watched the white waves come and go. 
 
 But one of us was very fair ; 
 
 Alas ! I knew it was not I. 
 My heart sank low, but I was brave 
 
 To watch his face when she was by, 
 Where all too well, with tender spell, 
 
 Love wrote its own tale silently. 
 
 And so at last I left them there, 
 
 And all unheeded came away, 
 And from our gay companions hid 
 
 The lesson I had learned that day. 
 My dream was o'er, with Love no more 
 
 I watched the rippling waters play. 
 
 79 
 

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