LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap.!l^?! Topyright No. 
 
 m^ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
OUT OF A YOUNG MAN'S LIFE. 
 
 POEMS 
 
 O.R? WASHBURN. .| 
 
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TO THE 
 
 FRIENDS OF MY SCHOOLTAYS 
 
 I DEDICATE 
 
 THIS BOOK. 
 
 MeadviUe, Pa., MarcJky tSg^. 
 
I REMEMBER the gleams and glooms that dart 
 Across the school-boy's brain, 
 The song and the silence in the heart 
 That in part are prophecies, and in part 
 Are longings wild and vain. 
 And the voice of that fitful song 
 Sings on and is never still, 
 ''A boy's will is the wind's will, 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. ' ' 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln .... 
 A Day in December 
 After the Play .... 
 A Prince ..... 
 
 Bed Time 
 
 Chained to the Post 
 Fair Weather Friendship 
 From the Heights 
 
 Immortal 
 
 M. J. S 
 
 My Bible 
 
 New Year's Eve .... 
 No Crape Upon the Door 
 
 Old Wine 
 
 Out of the Depths 
 
 Prayer 
 
 Revelation 
 
 Royalty 
 
 Thanksgiving 
 
 The Creedal Life Boat 
 
 The Dead Friendship 
 
 The Excuse of the Foolish Virgins 
 
 The Exodus 
 
 The Life Within 
 
 The Passing of the Year 
 
 The Seas are His 
 
 The Village of the Dead 
 
 Time's Merchandise 
 
Out of a Young Man's Life. 
 
 A PRINCE. 
 
 Who liveth the creed of an upright life, 
 
 Nor feareth the future's frown; 
 Who stands for Truth when lies are rife 
 
 And faces the Evil down ; 
 Who never turns from the glowing star 
 
 Of Duty that gleams ahead, 
 Or loses the sound of trumpets afar 
 
 That ever God's host hath led : 
 
 He shall be King in his own domain, 
 
 Nor fear any foe or chance. 
 Though misfortune's blows may fall amain 
 
 Or pierce like a poisoned lance. 
 For he walks in step with the great, good God 
 
 Who loveth the Truth in men. 
 
And the Fates obey at his glance or nod, 
 For his heart hath the strength of ten. 
 
 A light shines out from his fearless face 
 That gladdens this sad old world, 
 And his muscles are strong for the fiercest race, 
 
 Or to fight for God's flag unfurled. 
 Go ! Take your place in the flower-strewn path 
 
 That the brave of the earth have trod, 
 And know the joy the true man hath 
 
 Who is Prince of the House of God. 
 
 10 
 
THE DEAD FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 No earthly clod had covered his frail clay, 
 No funeral rite had o'er his form been said, 
 
 And yet I know, he went from me that day, 
 
 As sad-eyed Truth declared, ''Thy friend is 
 dead." 
 
 I cannot think it gone from me forever — 
 
 That fire-wrapt heart that cheered my deepest 
 night. 
 
 No power can good from its existence sever. 
 Immortal glows each spark of Heaven's light. 
 
 Yet, in some hour in hopeful Future's keeping. 
 The spirit that I knew in years agone 
 
 May rise from out the grave where it lies sleeping, 
 To meet me in a resurrection dawn. 
 
 Some noble triumphs and some fair successes 
 That spirit gained before I lost it quite ; 
 
And in the caves of Being's dark recesses, 
 Perhaps, it battles yet the powers of night. 
 
 And so I will not say with bitter sorrow, 
 
 ''My friend is dead, he never will return; " 
 But, *'Here we two friends parted till some 
 morrow 
 Shall teach the lessons weakness could not 
 learn." 
 
 12 
 
OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 
 
 We strive and cry in bitter pain, 
 
 With useless hands we beat the air. 
 We cry, no voice replies again, 
 
 We pray and find but dark despair. 
 We raise to Heaven our longing eyes 
 
 And feel the thoughts we cannot speak. 
 Our hearts are full of smothered cries 
 
 The Wrong is strong, the Right is weak. 
 
 Nor yet alone the evil powers 
 
 Turn dark as Hell the ways of life. 
 And wrench away our peaceful hours 
 
 Or ruin trust by hate and strife ; 
 But Love itself, in purest form 
 
 That brings the best the fates bestow, 
 Has in its train the fiery storm 
 
 That makes the torment devils know. 
 
 O God, if such there be that guides 
 Through mazy ways the steps of all, 
 
 13 
 
I pray Thee give, if naught besides, 
 One love that shall not fail nor fall. 
 
 For then, although I know not Thee, 
 Still while I draw uncertain breath, 
 
 I'll know my true friends number three. 
 
 Myself, my loved one, and the angel — Death, 
 
 14 
 
FROM THE HEIGHTS. 
 
 Who has stood beside the rail 
 
 On his only ship ; 
 Seen the loosing of each sail, 
 
 Seen the rigging dip, 
 While away within the night 
 
 Far as eye can reach, 
 One faint star shines still in sight 
 
 O'er the harbor beach. 
 
 Who has stood above his men 
 
 On some lofty height, 
 Seen them slow come back again 
 
 Beaten from the fight, 
 While afar adown the plain 
 
 Gleam the banners gay — 
 His last reserve, a gallant train. 
 
 Can they save the day? 
 
 Who, while loss and bitter pain 
 Turn his heart to dust, 
 
 15 
 
Scorns to let his lips complain, 
 Waits — but dares not trust, 
 
 Fair to him the harbor bright, 
 Glad the victory won 
 
 When love's day dispels the night. 
 And the strife is done. 
 
 16 
 
THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Praise the Lord ! 
 For the good the season brings. 
 For the song the future sings, 
 For white Peace that spreads its wings 
 And o'er-broods the growing state, 
 Stilling envy, strife, and hate; 
 For the dainties on our board; 
 Hearts and voices praise the Lord ! 
 
 Thank the Lord ! 
 For the ill that passed us by, 
 For the love too strong to die, 
 For the faith in God on high. 
 Lifting up the weary heart. 
 Comforting, though tear drops start ; 
 Join we all in sweet accord. 
 Hearts and voices praise the Lord ! 
 
 Raise the hymn ! 
 For the fleeing shades of night, 
 
 17 
 
For the coming gleam of light, 
 For the gift of clearer sight, 
 Sight that makes the footsteps sure 
 In the walk of paths more pure 
 Than the thorny hedge of creed 
 Gave our fathers greater need ; 
 For the growing light and Word, 
 Hearts and voices praise the Lord ! 
 
 Shout your joy! 
 All the past that was not true, 
 All that hindered me and you, 
 All that crushed the saintly few. 
 Who from God brought messages. 
 Disappear, return to dust ; 
 Weary doubt gives way to trust. 
 From the wealth your hearts afford. 
 Raise your voices, praise the Lord ! 
 
 Give Him thanks! 
 For the homes by love made sweet, 
 For the friends we hourly greet, 
 For the Christ in store or street, 
 
 18 ' 
 
That in each pure thought of man 
 Visits now the earth again. 
 And while hearts and love endure 
 Give God witness; strong and sure. 
 Each with each in sweet accord 
 Raise a voice to praise the Lord ! 
 
 19 
 
THE SEAS ARE HIS. 
 
 No matter how the storms may beat, 
 
 Or how chill fogs roll nigh, 
 The broken wrecks float to His feet 
 
 In harbors bye and bye. 
 No power can drive us from God's might 
 
 However dark it be, 
 And though our barques pass out of sight, 
 
 'Tis to another sea. 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 Wrong and sorrow, sin and curses, 
 
 See them come ! 
 Hate and kindness, judgments, mercies, 
 
 Are we dumb? 
 Let the spirit from the darkness 
 
 Send its cry. 
 If God hears and ruleth all things, 
 
 He'll reply. 
 
 When upon the bed of weakness, 
 
 Low we lie. 
 Can we always wait with meekness 
 
 Till we die ? 
 Man in suffering, toil and sorrow 
 
 Still must pray ; 
 Pray and hope a brighter morrow 
 
 Than to-day. 
 
 For as from the suifering, dying. 
 Comes the moan, 
 
 21 
 
So the hearts of mortals crying, 
 
 Pray alone. 
 While the good and evil blended, 
 
 Of our life, 
 Make us wish the journey ended, 
 
 And the strife; 
 
 Make us glad to face the fighting 
 
 Of all wrong, 
 And with love our pathway lighting 
 
 All along. 
 Tread the path where Jesus mounted 
 
 Long ago, 
 Till, when all the years are counted. 
 
 We shall know. 
 
M. J. S. 
 
 As through the thickest battle onward leads 
 The fighting host some great and valiant soul, 
 Nor recks of loss or gain, but forward fares,— 
 So leads us in the van of human thought 
 This strong-armed Hector o'er the moving field. 
 Nor pause nor fear he knows, but ever on. 
 And wields his sword and casts the gleaming lance, 
 While smaller men grow mighty at his back, 
 And high above the conflict sounds his voice 
 That onward calls the host to Truth and God. 
 
 23 
 
OLD WINE. 
 
 Pour me a cup of ripe old wine 
 
 Drawn from the vintage of friendship old ; 
 
 It will fill my heart with a passion fine 
 And warm my soul midst the vapors cold. 
 
 Turn it free but spill no drop ; 
 
 It was pressed from the fruit when life was 
 young. 
 Pray it may last till our seasons stop, 
 
 And the last, best verse of our song is sung. 
 
 Thanks! I drink to life's best thought. 
 The memory sweet of summers fled, 
 
 And till stars are set and love is naught 
 
 May the wine hold out though the vine be dead. 
 
 24 
 
MY BIBLE. 
 
 I HAVE a Bible, scattered far 
 
 Through all the ways of boundless space, 
 A glowing page on every star. 
 
 And lines of truth in every place. 
 
 My eyes see words of hope and cheer 
 Across the miles of deep abyss. 
 
 And find in every whirling sphere 
 The story of the Genesis. 
 
 In every form of busy life, 
 
 That from the earth its being draws, 
 I trace, through all the change and strife, 
 
 In living words, the Book of Laws. 
 
 In lines of blood on dead Past's tomb, 
 I read the Prophets' warning cry, 
 
 And know from out the mist and gloom 
 A fairer day shall greet the eye. 
 
 25 
 
In Right, by Wrong in power oppressed, 
 In faithful love most sorely tried, 
 
 I read, in virtue thus distressed, 
 The story of the Crucified. 
 
 Whene'er I see the sunlight fall 
 
 From glowing hearts on dogma's mists, 
 
 I read in letters plain to all 
 The works of the Evangelists. 
 
 And when I see the loving look 
 
 Of that pure soul I hold most dear. 
 
 In blessed lines I read the Book 
 Of Revelation plain and clear. 
 
 26 
 
AFTER THE PLAY. 
 
 From yawning depths, to sense unknown, 
 The ghost of Hamlet came to tell 
 
 The tale that shook the Danish throne, 
 Until, mid blood and groans, it fell. 
 
 The vengeance that the dead king sought 
 Was granted. Breaking death's restraint. 
 
 Far greater ill than Claudius wrought, 
 He worked by his unblest complaint. 
 
 For if from gates of Heaven or Hell 
 In truth no phantom had returned, 
 
 Through peaceful years unthreatened, well 
 The fires on Denmark's hearths had burned. 
 
 No evil scripture writ in red. 
 
 Had cursed the peasant's thoughtless sight, 
 A people's passions had not fed 
 
 On news of murder, lust, and spite. 
 
 27 
 
And in the halls where he did move, 
 
 A king beside his weaker wife, 
 What years of joy and faithful love, 
 
 He blasted by his touch with life. 
 
 Ophelia, fair mid flowers, had moved. 
 With but the happy maiden's sigh. 
 
 Her songs, her sleepy children soothed, 
 Nor ended in a drowning cry. 
 
 Laertes, strong of will and soul. 
 
 Who knows how bright his life had shone? 
 Young Hamlet, heart and spirit whole. 
 
 Would yet have ruled from Denmark's throne. 
 
 Not so the witless ghost allowed. 
 
 But brought from Hell its pain and tears, 
 
 And trailed from off his rotting shroud. 
 The grave mold o'er the flowers of years. 
 
 Better for him and all he loved, 
 
 The guilty king and fickle wife. 
 Some few brief years in peace had moved 
 
 Unpunished in their baser life. 
 
 28 
 
For wrong once done no sword repairs ; 
 
 The wounds of ill no blows can heal, 
 And Love, who guides up joy's bright stairs. 
 
 Points not the way with tempered steel. 
 
 The justice that we blindly ask 
 
 For wrong, that now no toil can right, 
 
 Is foul revenge, howe'er we mask 
 
 Our sinful thought from human sight. 
 
 And when, O Lord, with hearts that burn. 
 Men question where old blames most lie, 
 
 Let not the shadowy ghosts return, 
 To make the stern reply. 
 
FAIR WEATHER FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Leave not the door of friendship wide, 
 
 When bitter winds are blowing ; 
 Close up the house, remember well 
 
 The days when flowers were growing. 
 And so with hearth well kept and warm. 
 
 Await the gentler weather, 
 When free from frost and chilling gusts, 
 
 Your friend and you together 
 May spend an hour in thought of things, 
 
 You hold as one forever. 
 
THE CREEDAL LIFEBOAT. 
 
 I KNOW a lighthouse on a rock, 
 
 Where beats the surf upon the shore 
 
 Until it trembles with the shock 
 
 Of waves that tramp the hard sea-floor. 
 
 And from within, one dark, wild night, 
 I heard the sound of solemn song 
 
 Peal grandly through the windows light 
 And echo far the shore along. 
 
 And as I stood I heard them float 
 In solemn measure words like these : 
 
 Our lifeboat is the safest boat 
 That ever braved the seas." 
 
 The lamps within the upper tower 
 
 Gleamed dimly, smoking 'gainst the pane ; 
 
 Afar I saw the storm rack lower. 
 And felt the dash of winter rain. 
 
Yet still the voices strong and brave, 
 With reverent measure beat the strain, 
 
 As highest praise those watchers gave 
 
 To that strong craft that braved the main, 
 
 Up in the tower the lamps flared out ; 
 
 Far out at sea a rocket hissed ; 
 
 And o'er the reef the white squall kissed 
 The waves that gave an answering shout. 
 
 No heed the solemn watchers paid, 
 But gathered round the lifeboat fair — 
 
 The strongest sailor's skill had made — 
 And praised it with a reverent air. 
 
 The storm sheen lifted ; far away, 
 
 I saw a fleet of fisher boats 
 With captains powerless, save to pray, 
 
 And drowning men on spars and floats. 
 
 I shouted — but the watchers sang ; 
 
 I beat the door ; but still the more 
 They, heeding not the cries that rang, 
 
 Told all the lifeboat's virtues o'er. 
 
 32 
 
And with the currents all afloat 
 
 With perished men, their words were these : 
 *' Our life-boat is the staunchest boat 
 That ever braved the seas." 
 
IMMORTAL. 
 
 Turn, Time, thy hour-glass, smile thy solemn 
 smile, 
 
 The pyramids, the sphinx, the world is thine ; 
 But spirit laughs in thy gray face the while. 
 
 And whispers hope to human hearts like mine. 
 
 34 
 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 
 
 Nursed midst the perils of the wilderness, 
 
 Where forests grim their tangled crests did rear; 
 
 Well taught by penury's stern kindliness 
 His brother's toilful efforts to revere ; 
 
 Strong with the strength that honest labor brings. 
 And blithe in spirit as the mountain bird ; 
 
 He came to us as one of Nature's kings, 
 
 And taught to earth the word his spirit heard. 
 
 Toiling in patience by his humble home ; 
 
 Bending at night time o'er the treasured page. 
 He laid the basis of a loftier dome 
 
 Than e'en his wildest hope could dare presage. 
 
 Not in the halls where wit and culture meet. 
 He sought the laurels for the scholar's brow; 
 
 But friendly Nature gave him welcome sweet 
 And taught him grandeur's lessons by the plow. 
 
 35 
 
Till, touched by cries of anguish from the slave, 
 Whose chains lay heavy on his noble heart. 
 
 He dared the millioned Pharaoh's wrath to brave. 
 And raise a cry for freedom in their mart. 
 
 And out from old New England rose the cry 
 That echoed back where wild Columbia ran, 
 
 ''The cause of God! The cause shall never die! 
 Up ! Arm for freedom ! God has sent the man ! " 
 
 No brush can paint nor eloquence describe 
 The long and dreary night our country knew. 
 
 As o'er the peaceful heavens swift did ride 
 
 The war clouds dark that hid all else from view. 
 
 Yet somehow through the groans of brothers slain. 
 And midst the moans of widows bow'd with grief. 
 
 He brought our bright-eyed Freedom back again. 
 And with her, Peace, and Plenty with her sheaf. 
 
 And while we raised in joyous shout the cry 
 Of gladness for God's vict'ry dearly won, 
 
 Lo! at our feet in death we saw him lie. 
 And Liberty did mourn her noble son. 
 
Green be his memory ! We bow today, 
 And o'er his ashes heap the wreaths again, 
 
 And as we bow send up a prayer, and say ' 
 *' Here sleeps a mortal who has lived a man.** 
 
 37 
 
THE LIFE WITHIN. 
 
 From all of human littleness, from all the petty- 
 strifes of men. 
 The human soul sometimes will turn to seek the 
 
 Infinite again. 
 'Tis hid from man whence life's strong wine first 
 
 into earthly dust did flow, 
 Yet still we see the wondrous plan and trust the 
 
 good we cannot know. 
 From out-worn creeds, from threadbare lies, the 
 
 noble spirit turns away; 
 True manhood feels that it but needs unto a 
 
 better self to pray. 
 Our higher selves ! Ah ! could we see the glory 
 
 that abides in each ! 
 That in ourselves the Spirit dwells more holy 
 
 than a creed can teach. 
 We'd turn no more our forms to say, but leave 
 
 behind each savage trait. 
 And bring at once to poor mankind the perfect 
 
 good, the perfect state. 
 
THE EXODUS. 
 
 All through the past, in every clime and state, 
 
 The two or three have proved the moving 
 power 
 
 To right the wrong, call in the knocking hour, 
 And break the bands of Custom, Creed and Hate. 
 To-day, the prophets' calls take deeper meaning, 
 
 The earnest spirit struggles to be free, 
 God's people out from Egypt still are streaming. 
 
 Comes Luther from his cell and Christ from 
 Galilee. 
 
THE EXCUSE OF THE FOOLISH VIRGINS. 
 
 Ah, blame us not ! Nor shut the door in scorn ; 
 
 Our lamps are out. The oil, we did not bring. 
 With faith in human kindliness inborn. 
 
 We ran, and halted not, with you to sing. 
 
 Surely we trusted in your human hearts, 
 
 Your love and goodness unto those who lack ; 
 
 Now as our tears fast fall and joy departs, 
 
 Unclose the door and give our gladness back. 
 
 We did but strive the bridegroom's way along 
 To cheer with mirth and lighten with our praise. 
 
 Had we kept back, nor brought our lamp or song 
 We now should sit beneath the feast-lamp's 
 blaze. 
 
 Surely the effort well is worth a place 
 In some dim corner of the darkest room ; 
 
 Some smile of welcome, not unmixed disgrace, 
 Should greet our hearts to drive away the 
 gloom. 
 
 40 
 
We strove to act so that the bride might smile, 
 That him she loves would give us honor due, 
 
 And should the effort meet with scorn the while 
 Because neglect made vain the purpose true ? 
 
 In heaven, we know, beyond the still, cold stars 
 No scorn shall greet us all our joy to kill, 
 
 But God's strong justice shall undo the bars 
 
 And light the lamps you would not aid to fill. 
 
 41 
 
BED-TIME. 
 
 Bed-time : We lay us down to rest in peace, 
 To slumber through the happy hours, nor 
 dream. 
 As slowly all our cares and strivings cease, 
 
 Of what shall come when morrow's sun shall 
 beam. 
 
 Bed-time: Kind Nature draws the curtains too, 
 And soothes us sweetly to our certain rest. 
 
 Nor tells if we the ages slumber through. 
 Or wake at once to be the future's guest. 
 
 Yet, Nature, let thy gentle forces fall. 
 
 Bind up our wounds and give us blessed rest ; 
 
 We question not God's loving care for all. 
 And He in love shall give us what is best. 
 
NO CRAPE UPON THE DOOR. 
 
 No crape upon the door, my friends, 
 
 No crape upon the door; 
 For when with flying feet I go 
 
 To meet the friends of other years. 
 And some good hours of converse know 
 
 Before the last gray guest appears, 
 Belated, cold before the glow 
 
 That friendship kindles there, 
 'Twere sad to chill our social talk 
 
 With thought of those upon my walk, 
 Who pause my half-swung gate before. 
 
 Of that black cloth become aware, 
 And laugh or jest no more. 
 
 No crape for me. The whirling years 
 
 That bring their round of toil and change, 
 
 That mock the hopes of weaker men 
 
 With seeming loss and death, may range 
 
 Unheeded by the souls that dare. 
 
 And when at times grief's night shuts down. 
 
'Tis but dim eyes that fail to see, 
 
 'Tis but our doubts that cloud the way, 
 
 Nor lost the orbs of perfect day, 
 
 Or radiant love still shining free, 
 
 Or friendship's stars, though spite of fears 
 Our little world of sense turns round. 
 
 No crape upon the door, good friends, 
 
 To still the pulse of joy. 
 Nor yet in hall or silent room 
 
 Should cross or crown within the gloom 
 In woven blossoms mark the place 
 
 Of that worn coat I use no more ; 
 Nor question sad of silent space. 
 
 Or vainly listen at death's door. 
 To hear a voice come back from me. 
 
 But let your steady voices blend 
 In quiet strength nor doubt that I 
 
 With buoyant spirit still defy 
 The touch that earthly forms destroy 
 
 And of old weakness makes an end. 
 
TIME'S MERCHANDISE. 
 
 Time, like a merchant selling wares 
 
 With boats at each man's landing stairs, 
 
 Unloads his bales of good and ill 
 
 And lets us choose whate'er we will. 
 
 Ah, blame him not, nor murmur make. 
 Not what he brings but what we take 
 
 Endows the heart with joy or tears. 
 
 45 
 
CHAINED TO THE POST. 
 
 Chained to the post, the iron cup 
 
 Swings all day long in the dust and heat; 
 
 Marred and dented by careless hands 
 Mid the rush and din of the busy street. 
 
 Chained to the post, with dent and mar, 
 The form and life of a child of God ; 
 
 Tossed by the hands it best had served. 
 Not granted the peace of the meanest clod. 
 
 Yet the iron cup and the priceless soul. 
 However battered and worn and bound. 
 
 Are serving a purpose a king might crave — 
 If the waters of life within be found. 
 
REVELATION. 
 
 Through ages flitting come the Truths of God, 
 Like doves low sailing o'er the heads of men, 
 
 And still we mortals turn the cold, hard clod 
 With downward look to find His Word again. 
 
 Only some prophet with a heart of fire, 
 A mighty seer among the millions blind. 
 
 Looks up, overmastered by Divine desire. 
 
 Some mystic light from Heaven's lamps to find. 
 
 And straight to him fly messengers of flame 
 With revelations from the Soul above. 
 
 And he, upreaching, speaks his teacher's name. 
 Then writes a sentence in the Book of Love. 
 
 47 
 
THE VILLAGE OF THE DEAD. 
 
 I WANDERED up across the sheepfields bare, 
 Across the orchard by the cattle shed, 
 
 Then feeling weary in the heated air, 
 I rested in the village of the dead. 
 
 A quiet gathering in the silence deep. 
 
 Where tangled vines and grasses hide the sand, 
 
 Some humble farmers laid away in sleep 
 
 Between the walls where waving chestnuts stand. 
 
 Their story, carved in all the landscape round, 
 Can well be read by dreamers such as I ; 
 
 Here in these fields their battle place they found, 
 Grim breastworks were the low walls standing 
 nigh. 
 
 Oft as the sun sent courier beams ahead 
 
 To tell that day was coming, warm with haste, 
 
 These champions left the hard, unyielding bed, 
 Once more the farmwork's bitter wine to taste. 
 
 48 
 
Oft when the locust gave his rasping song, 
 
 Through the dry noon-time's glow of dust and 
 heat, 
 
 In skirmish line they still marched bravely on 
 To give the hostile weeds a sure defeat. 
 
 Nor was their labor but for simple wants; 
 
 They hunted Error in her darkest den, 
 They read of Homer and the satyr's haunts. 
 
 And in the rustic meetings spake as men. 
 
 Think not the knotted hands laid here to rest 
 But piled the stones in Nature's stubborn field; 
 
 They shaped the lives of those who lead the best, 
 The thoughts they sowed a golden harvest yield. 
 
 Here let them rest, their weary fight was won ; 
 They held their walls against the march of 
 Want 
 Then laid they down in peace, their striving done, 
 Nor asked the world their deeds abroad to 
 flaunt. 
 
So let us leave them, soldiers of the soil, 
 
 Who won in bloodless battles spoil for kings ; 
 
 They did their duty, facing life's stern toil, 
 
 And brought the world a step toward better 
 tilings. 
 
 50 
 
A DAY IN DECEMBER. 
 
 Gray sky and chilling cloud, 
 Leaf and flower crushed in clay, 
 
 Nature in her cold, damp shroud. 
 And the world is drear to-day. 
 
 Chill thoughts within the heart, 
 Life's best flowers passed away, 
 
 Sorrow waits as hopes depart, 
 And the soul is drear to-day. 
 
ROYALTY. 
 
 Who walks upright the paths of life, 
 
 Who fears not want or death, 
 His soul shall conquer in the strife, 
 
 Though wrong may still his breath. 
 
 The priest may curse and lay the ban, 
 
 His friends may fall away. 
 But the fearless soul of a manly man 
 
 No tribute to them can pay. 
 
 Love, fame, and fortune all may fade. 
 
 The body may turn to dust. 
 But the spirit in armor of truth arrayed 
 
 Can ever its future trust. 
 
 Then turn from the life of the low and small 
 
 To the life of the fearless few, 
 Though it lead from a throne in a palace hall, 
 
 To a bench 'midst the galley's crew. 
 
 52 
 
For the spirit of man is a regal thing, 
 And should bow to no earthly might ; 
 
 And the lowliest soul may reign a king 
 When it conquers the powers of night. 
 
THE PASSING OF THE YEAR. 
 
 As comes a herald from some eastern king 
 With riches laden, all his hands can hold, 
 
 So doth September all her harvest bring 
 
 Of nut and fruit and grain more fair than gold. 
 
 So when the chilling frosts of age shall come 
 And withered lie our days like fallen leaves, 
 
 May we in triumph bring our treasures home 
 To bind as gleanings with the Master's sheaves. 
 
 October finds a matron clothed with gold, 
 Dame Nature in her Autumn robe arrayed. 
 
 She leads her gently to the grave so cold, 
 
 Then leaves her with a wreath of snow o'erlaid. 
 
 November, mourning at Dame Nature's death, 
 Hangs all the sky with crape of sable cloud, 
 
 Then o'er the dreary fields sends sighing breath. 
 And through the cheerless evenings moaneth 
 loud. 
 
 54 
 
Stir up again the Christmas fires, 
 Forget all grief, no more be sad. 
 
 No soul that struggles and aspires 
 Can pause to-day and not be glad. 
 
 The children shout, the feast is spread. 
 The hardest heart forgets its scorn. 
 
 And in the brain the doubt is dead, 
 And in the heart the Christ is born. 
 
 55 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE. 
 
 A GREETING TO ABSENT FRIENDS. 
 
 To-night I sit before the fire 
 And in the coals my castles build, 
 No more of high and spacious dome, 
 As in the days long past and dead ; 
 My wildest dreams but rears a home. 
 But now old memories crowd instead 
 Through all my thoughts, and comes desire 
 To send the greeting long witheld. 
 
 The stranger warmed at glowing hearth, 
 
 Where met for jest a jovial crew, 
 Reluctant turns to roam the earth 
 
 And sighs to miss the joys he knew. 
 The sailor, stopping at some isle 
 
 Where palm and fern grow ever green. 
 Remembers it when many a mile 
 
 Of surging waters roll between. 
 
 56 
 
So I, a traveler, having known 
 
 The pleasant hours of winter nights 
 When quick my friends a charm have thrown 
 
 Around some dear ones' bright home lights, 
 Send back a thought across the miles 
 
 That bar me from the scenes I knew ; 
 Recalling all the songs and smiles 
 
 That blessed the moments as they flew. 
 
 There many an eve was grief dethroned 
 
 And talent yoked with giddy mirth ; 
 The weary rule of care disowned, 
 
 And well we learned to know the worth 
 Of joyous foot-falls on the floor, 
 
 The tones where love and pleasure blend ; 
 The welcome in the wide-flung door 
 
 That opens to the waiting friend. 
 
 But now for me the door is fast. 
 
 As at the end the storm without 
 Beats with a keen and biting blast 
 
 Upon the traveler wandering forth. 
 So chills life's air, and I, perforce, 
 
 57 
 
Draw memories' cloak about my soul 
 Against the frost of circumstance. 
 
 Vain care ! For me the cheerful fires 
 
 That burned within that circle fair 
 Are dim and fading ; my desires 
 
 Are as dead footsteps on the stair 
 When midnight comes, and I go out 
 
 To meet the storms upon my face, 
 The star's cold light, and hear a shout 
 
 Come back from those who leave the place 
 Where late we sang our parting song. 
 
 But let the heart still bear within 
 Some ringing music sung with joy. 
 
 Some notes of mirth as we begin, 
 
 Once more with faith, life's stern employ. 
 
 Take then this greeting, friends of mine. 
 
 This New Year's wish, that strong and clear 
 
 The radiant lights may burn and shine 
 Upon your hearths for many a year. 
 
 And pure and bright, out reaching all. 
 
 Some rays from memory's lamp may glow, 
 
 5.S 
 
Some shaft from friendship's taper fall 
 Upon my path, where e're I go, 
 
 Till one home light gives welcome call 
 Above the unlatched door of Death.