!\ ' 
 
 ^ i'^ ^ : \ 
 
 \ uAnjL 
 
HOME FLOWERS 
 
 PRESSED IN MY LAW-BOOKS. 
 
 COLLECTED CHRISTMAS, 1879, 
 FOR SUE, BY "Q." 
 
 HOLBROOK, PRINT, NEWARK. NOT PUBLISHED. 
 
 7, 
 
 ^So'; 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 TO SUE, 5 
 
 IHE CHURCH, 9 
 
 THE STAR OF THE NATIVITY, 10 
 
 ITALIAN VESPERS, 13 
 
 A RING FOUND ON A GRAVE, 14 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SIMOOM, 16 
 
 THE FADED BEAUTY TO HER MIRROR, 19 
 
 FALSE EMBLEMS, 21 
 
 ASTROLOGY, 22 
 
 WORSHIP AT SEA, 24 
 
 THE SUMMER CLOUD, 26 
 
 TO AN OLD OAK IN THE FRIENDS' CEMETERY. . . 28 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF REV. E. G. PRESCOTT, . , . .31 
 
 TO A COMB, - • . . 33 
 
 A VALENTINE TO E. M., . . . . . . .34 
 
 THE LAST DAY OF NINETEEN, 35 
 
 BAPTISM OF TEARS, 41 
 
 AT THE SEA SHORE, 46 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGR. 
 
 MAY, ' . . .48 
 
 LIZZIE, 51 
 
 THIRTEFN, . ' . .57 
 
 SIXTEEN, 58 
 
 THE FIRST DIAMOND, 59 
 
 A CLASP FOR A CHRISTMAS CLOAK, 61 
 
 MY wife's crutches, . . . . . . . ,62 
 
 FRITZ, 64 
 
 THE ACOLYTE, 65 
 
 A DIRGE FOR OLD ST. STEPHEN'S, 67 
 
TO SUE. 
 
 In years long gone my vow was made 
 To send each Christmas day, dear Sue, 
 
 Some book whose votive page should bear, 
 For friendship's token, " Sue from Q." 
 
 And there they stand in lengthening line, 
 Sure chroniclers of fleeting years ; 
 
 We count them not — 't were vain to sum 
 The measure of life's smiles and tears. 
 
 Let stranger hands their pages turn 
 For all the varied lore they teach, 
 
 To us far other voices come 
 
 From those " dumb mouths," in silent speech. 
 
 We hear the sounds of love-bound homes, — 
 The elders' joy, — the children's glee, — 
 
 The lovers' vows, — the marriage bells, — 
 The birth-day romps, — the Christmas Tree. 
 
6 TO SUE. 
 
 We hear once more from lips long sealed, 
 The prayers of love, the counsels wise, 
 
 80 gently breathed by saint and sage 
 Now havened safe beyond the skies. 
 
 We hear — alas that words so sad 
 My voiceless messengers should tell ! 
 
 The yearning cry for treasures lost, 
 The wail of grief, — the funeral knell ! 
 
 And now one offering more I make ; 
 
 One more mute mouth whose voice shall blend 
 With tones that thrill through vanished years 
 
 And reach our hearts alone, — I send. 
 
 Not burning words in lofty rhyme, 
 
 Nor wisdom shrined in curious tome, — 
 
 A sheaf of wayside flowers that grew 
 Untrained beside the porch of home. 
 
 Its voice no stranger ears must hear. 
 
 It bears no message save to you, 
 
 But whispers to your heart alone 
 
 The steadfast love of Q. for Sue. 
 1879. 
 
^f^f^TKG^. 
 
C|C CljllKJ). 
 
 Whkk first iu ancient days the Eastern star 
 O'er Asia's plains its mystic radiance tlung, 
 
 A corner-stone was laid, and fairer far 
 
 Than earth's proud monuments, the fabric sprung. 
 
 The Christian standard from its towers unfurled 
 
 Waved wide its sign of mercy o'er the world. 
 
 Its glory grew with every battle shock, 
 
 In vain from age to age its foes have striven, 
 
 "Twas founded firm on truth's eternal rock ; 
 
 'Twas built by Him who framed the walls of heaven 
 
 Its solemn aisles with heavenly music rang, 
 
 For angel choirs its earliest anthem sang. 
 
 Its course is onward — e'en the ocean isles 
 
 Where night lias brooded, hail the wakening dawn ; 
 
 The wild is blooming and the desert smiles, 
 The reign of darkness and despair is gone ; 
 
 O'er India's plains the living seeds are sown, 
 
 'The Book of Life has pressed the idol's throne. 
 
10 THE STAR OF THE NATIVITY. 
 
 It shall be onward — spread its portals wide, 
 And welcome all from earth's remotest clime, 
 
 Till all her nations pour their joyous tide 
 To fill its ample courts in coming time ; 
 
 Till up from earth's wide altar to the skies, 
 
 The incense of a ransomed world shall rise. 
 1842. 
 
 Cl)e B\in of % Batibitji. 
 
 New light gleamed o'er the Eastern sands, 
 
 A new star set on high ; 
 The herald-star of mercy's dawn 
 
 Flamed in the morning sky. 
 The sages saw, and glorious hope 
 
 To their glad hearts was given, 
 For with those new-sped beams came down 
 
 A voice of joy from Heaven. 
 
THE STAR OF THE NATIVITY. 11 
 
 It led them by its guiding ray, 
 
 As o'er the sands they trod, 
 And like the sun on Gibeon's vale 
 
 Stood o'er their infant God ; 
 They bowed their reverend heads in awe 
 
 Before that Child Divine, 
 And proudly poured their treasured wealth 
 
 Upon that lowly shrine. 
 
 And where is now that guiding star, 
 
 That watch-fire of the skies, 
 That burned of old above the shrine 
 
 Of Heaven's great sacrifice f 
 When night at noon on Calvary fell, 
 
 And vail and rocks were riven. 
 Returned it to its home of light 
 
 Beyond the loftiest heaven ? 
 
 Not so ! the light the wise men saw 
 
 Was caught by every star, 
 And still its guiding beam doth fall 
 
 From each bright orb afar. 
 Though veiled by night with darkening clouds, 
 
 Though lost in day's broad glare, 
 
12 THE STAR OF THK NA'IIVITY. 
 
 It points the way for willing? feet 
 To every house of prayer. 
 
 On every sliriiie wliere human liearts 
 
 For praise or worship bow, 
 On lowly church or lofty fane 
 
 That li^ht is shining now ; 
 And Bethlehem's star its silent watch 
 
 O'er hallowefl ground shall keep, 
 '['ill down through all the spangled skies 
 
 The endless night shall sweep. 
 
 Oh then, within the temple gates 
 Be thy glad footsteps borne, 
 
 As sages sought that Immble shrine 
 On earth's first Christmas m<M-n ! 
 
 Before the star-crowned altar bend 
 Like them in grateful prayer, 
 
 Thy richest wealth of worship bring, 
 
 Thy risen God is there ! 
 1843. 
 
Italian ^tsprs. 
 
 Hark ! a voice of music stealing 
 Through the lofty arches dim ; 
 
 Murmuring now, now louder pealing — 
 'Tis the Vesper Hymn. 
 
 Round the altar bending lowly, 
 Vestals bow in saintly guise j 
 
 Chanted prayers, in accents holy. 
 Like rich incense rise. 
 
 Sweetly o'er the moonlit waters 
 Float the lute's low tones along. 
 
 Sweetly sing the dark-eyed daughters 
 Of that land of song. 
 
 Softly breathe the broken hearted, 
 Bending o'er the loved one's bier, 
 
 Requiems for the soul departed 
 To a happier sphere. 
 
14 A RING FOUND ON A GRAVE. 
 
 Sweeter than that song of gladness. 
 Purer than the lute's low tone, 
 
 Softer than the song of sadness 
 From those mourners lone, — 
 
 Rise those vesper hymns to heaven, 
 
 Earth's most grateful harmonies 
 I Wafted by the breath of even. 
 To the listening skies. 
 
 For from that pure shrine ascending 
 
 To the glorious courts above, 
 
 There with heavenly anthems blending. 
 
 Swell those tones of love. 
 1843. 
 
 % |ting irnin on a §raije, 
 
 MARKED, " E. G., 1783" 
 
 I come from the dark mansion of decay 
 
 Where rest the dead beneath the weeping willow ; 
 Sad nature's harp on which the cold winds play, 
 
 Her solemn dirges o'er their lonely pillow. 
 I parted from a sorrowing maiden's finger, 
 A pledge upon the giver's grave to linger. 
 
A RING FOUND ON A GRAVE. 15 
 
 Oft have 1 seen the silent funeral train 
 
 Surround the tomb, a band of broken-hearted, 
 
 And leave their burden in death's dark domain, 
 While memory lingered with the loved departed. 
 
 Few human forms are left in those cold halls 
 
 O'er whom no tear of love and sorrow falls. 
 
 Youth shorn of all its beauty and its bloom, 
 
 And manhood robbed of all its pride and gladness, 
 
 And worn-out age, came crowding to the tomb, 
 But round each bier I heard the sounds of sadness. 
 
 I saw love strew each new-made grave with flowers, 
 
 And memory come to mourn in after hours. 
 
 But I'm free, I am free from the land of graves ; 
 
 No more will I dwell with the dead, 
 No more will I lie where the yew-tree waves 
 
 O'er my cold and lonely bed. 
 
 Again will I glitter on beauty's hand, 
 
 And shine in the merry dance, 
 Again will I dart through a joyous band 
 
 The lightning of my glance. 
 
16 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 01" A SIMOOM. 
 
 Again with fond hearts will I gaily rove 
 When the moon keeps watch on high, 
 
 And pass as a token of plighted love 
 As pure and as endless as I. 
 
 Then joy to the rare old graveyard ring ! 
 
 From the finger of death I am free ; 
 
 And sorrow and mourning away I'll fling, 
 
 And a gay old ring will I be. 
 1813. 
 
 ^utobiagrapljj of a ^imaom. 
 
 With my banner of cloud unfurled I come 
 O'er the sea and the land in wrath • 
 
 Unlocked from the caves of my Arctic home 
 I rushed on my desolate path. 
 
» AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SlMOOM. 17 
 
 O'er the snowy peaks of the Northern hills 
 
 I whirled in my cloudy car ; 
 And the tropic vales and the laughing rills 
 
 I chilled with ray Trown afar. 
 
 To the world of waters I sailed away 
 
 As it lay in its evening rest, 
 And I swept the glories of dying dav 
 
 With a glance, from its glowing breast. 
 
 A stately ship in her path of pride 
 
 Came quietly gliding by : 
 With full-spread sails and a favoring tide 
 
 She smiled at the frowning sky. 
 
 But I swooped in wrath from ray far-off home 
 
 On my wings of fire and cloud, — 
 From the snowy threads of the wild sea-foam 
 
 I w^ove her a lordly shroud. 
 
 Away through the vine-clad hills of France, 
 
 And through many a blooming plain, 
 O'er the sunny meadows where maidens dance, 
 
 I swept with my fearful train. 
 
18 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SIMOON. 
 
 I tore the vines from the smiling vale — 
 
 I scattered them on the blast, 
 And through fields of grain with my scythe of hail, 
 
 Like a mighty reaper passed. 
 
 I fly to the Desert, away, away ! 
 
 And see ! o'er the burning sands 
 A caravan comes with its long array 
 
 And the wealth of the Eastern lands. 
 
 • 
 
 Their flaunting train o'er the dreary plain 
 On the wings of the wind I'll fling, — 
 
 But in fear they bow, — I will spare them now, 
 For they worship the desert king ! 
 
 Now I never will roam from the Simoom's home, 
 
 I'll dwell on this burning plain ; ^ 
 
 With my sceptre of sand, in this lonely land 
 
 Dread monarch henceforth I'll reign. 
 1843. 
 
ijt fakb §eautg to ^er IPirror. 
 
 Friend of my girlhood, in whose burnished face 
 So oft I've gazed in rapture on my own, 
 
 On whose bright page 1 early loved to trace 
 The lines of grace that there all radiant shone ! 
 
 Say, hast thou lost of late thy magic power 
 To give true records to the reader's eye ? 
 
 Bear'st thou false witness ? In youth's waning hour 
 Must thine, like all earth's friendships, fade and die 
 
 No, thou wast ever true ; at rosy morn 
 
 The yawn, the night- cap and the robe-de-nuit, 
 
 The half-sealed eyes, the papered hair forlorn, 
 B-eceived their hideous images from thee. 
 
 And oft, on final glance in evening's gloom. 
 The glittering ball-dress, and the jeweled hair, 
 
 The studied smile, the cheek of borrowed bloom, 
 Came beaming back in mellowed lustre there. 
 
20 THE FADED BEAUTY TO HER MIRROR. 
 
 Too true, alas ! for as life's morning fair 
 Its beauty and its brightness found in thee, 
 
 So now the eye, the cheek, the tortured hair 
 Come dimmed and faded sadly back to me. 
 
 Awful reflection ! must I then resign 
 
 The laurels in my line of conquests won 1 
 
 Must I, the belle of ballrooms, fade and pine, 
 The maiden aunt to every coming son ? 
 
 It shall not be ! I will not be forgotten, 
 Awake old charms to blooming life again ! 
 
 With rouge and ribbons, corset, curls and cotton, 
 I'll gird me for the Beauty's last campaign. 
 
 For hours she strove, with paint's unearthly flush. 
 
 The ghost of buried loveliness to start ; 
 
 Then at the glass she madly dashed the brush 
 
 And broke at once her mirror and her heart, 
 1843. 
 
Jfalse €mWems. 
 
 They tell me friendships quickly formed 
 
 Must early pass away, 
 Like dreams of bliss which cheer the night 
 
 But fade with dawning day. 
 O be it so ! for blissful dreams 
 
 Around the heart will linger, 
 When life's realities are crushed 
 
 By time's unsparing finger. 
 
 They tell me friendship's memories, 
 
 How sweet soe'er they be. 
 Are transient as the purple glow 
 
 Of sunset o'er the sea. 
 be it so ! for sunlight comes 
 
 As gorgeous and as free. 
 As when it first in glory broke 
 
 O'er earth^s primeval sea. 
 
22 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 1843. 
 
 Then be th> kindly thoughts of me 
 Like some sweet lingering dream, 
 
 Or like the light which fades at eve, 
 Once more with morn to beam. 
 
 ^strologg. 
 
 " CoULL» I command the secret power 
 They saj to stars is given, 
 Joy should attend thy every hour 
 Till lost in joys of heaven." 
 
 Breathe not the wish ! diviner power 
 To faith's pure prayer is given, 
 
 Than clothed as old Chaldean deemed 
 The heraldry of heaven. 
 
1844. 
 
 ASTROLOGY. 23 
 
 The kindly heart unfolds a page 
 
 More dear to sorrow's eye, 
 Than starry scroll where wise men read 
 
 The scripture of the sky. 
 
 And pity's tender voice doth fall 
 
 More sweetly on the ear, 
 Than harpings from the mystic Lyre 
 
 That leads each echoing sphere. 
 
 Oh then be thine the dearer charm 
 
 Of sympathy and love ! 
 Be thine the nobler prayer that calls 
 
 Rich blessings from above. 
 
 And sigh not for the secret power 
 
 That dwells in worlds afar, 
 Be Faith thy sole astrologer, 
 
 And Hope thy guiding star. 
 
 For Hope, 'e'en like the orbs of night, 
 
 Can cheer life's loneliest way. 
 And Faith shall lead thee where the stars 
 
 Are lost in heavenly day. 
 
^orsljip at Sta* 
 
 Softly o'er the ocean 
 Faded sunset's ray, 
 Calmly on the waters 
 The idle vessel lay. 
 Hark ! as the soft winds rise 
 Mid twilight shadows dim, 
 They waft in music to the skies 
 The sailors' evening hymn ! 
 
 Darkly brooding o'er them 
 
 Wave the storm-cloud's wings, 
 Forth the gathering tempest 
 His murky banner flings ; 
 Hark ! while the darkened sky 
 With thunder peals is riven, 
 Swells forth in voices calm and high 
 The sailors' prayer to heaven ! 
 
Worship at sea. 25 
 
 Brightly beams the morning 
 
 O'er the vessel's track, 
 Every glancing ripple 
 Gives its glory back ; 
 Hark ! round that altar lone 
 
 Full, manly voices raise 
 On high, in solemn, thankful tone, 
 The sailors' song of praise. 
 
 Thus on life's wide ocean 
 
 Fearfully we sail, 
 Smiles or frowns above us 
 Sunshine or the gale ; 
 And thus in joy's fair morn 
 Or sorrow's darkened sky. 
 Shall be our heart's free tribute borne 
 With constant trust on high ! 
 
 1844. 
 
Clje Summer Cloub. 
 
 A FLEECY cloud as it rose on liigli 
 In the path of the waking morn, 
 
 Like a phantom ship o'er the summer sky 
 By the soft south wind was borne. 
 
 C4ently and slowly that snow-white sail 
 
 Swept on o'er the azure field, 
 Till it robed the sun with its silvery veil 
 
 And shone like a golden shield. 
 
 An old blind man as he tottered by 
 With years and their sorrows bowed, 
 
 With a smile turned upward his sightless eye 
 And greeted that kindly cloud. 
 
 A laughing child on the grateful sight 
 Looked forth from the shaded bowers, 
 
 And shouting for joy at the mellowed light, 
 Ran gaily to gather flowers. 
 
THE SUMMER CLOUD. 27 
 
 The pilgrim repented his solemn vow 
 
 As he trod o'er the burning plain ; 
 But he blessed the cloud.as it cooled his brow, 
 
 And his faith grew strong again. 
 
 The reaper stood in the golden grain 
 
 Oppressed by the noon-day sun ; 
 llie shadow fell, and he toiled again 
 
 With a smile till his task was done. 
 
 The soldier failed in the fearful hour 
 When the din of the strife grew loud, 
 
 But his arm was nerved as he felt the power 
 That dwelt in that grateful cloud. 
 
 It followed the sun as his chariot rolled 
 
 To the gates of the glowing West, 
 And gleaming there like a throne of gold 
 
 It sank to its glorious rest. 
 
 Thus as the cloud of the summer day 
 Glides on through the blazing dome. 
 
 Our bark of life on its mystic way 
 Is borne to its destined home. 
 
28 TO AX OLD OAK. 
 
 Oh thus to all hearts like the bountiful shade 
 Be the joy ot our sympathy given, 
 
 And thus with a glory that never shall fade 
 Shall we rest in the mansions of Heaven. 
 
 1844. 
 
 Co m olb #ah in t|je fxmh Olemetfrg. Salem 
 
 Pride of the ancieut forests ! thy vast bough 
 Hath waved of yore 'neath many a changing sky, 
 
 And in lone grandeur thou art lifting now 
 Thine aged arms imploringly on high, 
 
 As though to call a blessing down from heaven 
 
 On loved ones to thy guardian shelter given. 
 
 Where are thy brethren ? when the sounding wood 
 Through all its arches sent the warriors cry, 
 
 Like bannered armies on the hills they stood 
 While swept the baffled tempest idly by j 
 
TO AN OLD OAK. 29 
 
 And towering o'er them thou didst proudly stand, 
 Like some plumed chieftain of the forest land. 
 
 The spoilers came ; the " pomp of groves " is gone, 
 The verdant crown around the mountain's brow 
 
 The forest robes across the valleys thrown, 
 All with their native dust are blended now 5 
 
 They touched no leaf that crowned thy kingly head, 
 
 But laid beneath thy sheltering arms their dead. 
 
 Each year thy foliage falls upon the grave 
 A golden robe to deck the halls of death, 
 
 And ceaselessly thy swaying branches wave 
 In plaintive music to the soft wind's breath ; 
 
 Oh what could soothe the weeper's tortured brow, 
 
 Did friendship mourn as faithfully as thou ? 
 
 Mid spring's glad voices thou art sorrowing still. 
 When happy birds to greet the morn are springing, 
 
 When every grove and vale and echoing hill 
 With nature's joyous minstrelsy are ringing, 
 
 Thy leaves, like harp-strings tuned to notes of woe, 
 
 Sad requiems breathe o'er those who sleep below. 
 
30 TO AN OLD OAK. 
 
 And still when winter's icy hand has thrown 
 His shroud of snow above each lowly bed, 
 
 There wilt thou stand in solemn state alone, 
 The white-robed guardian of the sleeping dead. 
 
 And the rude winds that hoarsely sweep along 
 
 Will wail through all thy boughs their dirge-like song. 
 
 Tinie hath not scathed thee ; o'er tliy regal form 
 The winter wind a hundred years hath passed, 
 
 And still for ages shalt thou brave the storm, 
 Still shalt thou stand to battle with the blast ; 
 
 And long the stricken forms of earth shall come, 
 
 To seek beneath thy shade their final home. 
 
 Yet all thy power and pride shall pass away ! 
 
 Low in the dust thy lordly form shall bow, 
 Thy giant arms are weaker than decay, 
 
 Though they can quell the whirlwind's fury now ; 
 
 While those whose requiem thou hast sung so long, 
 
 Shall rise and join in nature's funeral song. 
 Id44. 
 
ill i\t be4 af $tir. €. #. frestott. 
 
 RECTOR OF ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, SALEM, N. J. 
 
 Hare: ! from the moaning sea 
 
 A voice of sadness comes ! 
 How fearfully its tone 
 
 Falls on fond hearts and homes ! 
 Our pastor and our friend 
 
 Rests in his lonely grave, 
 And the winds their dirges blend 
 
 With the wailing of the wave. 
 
 'Twas midnight on the deep 
 
 When his spirit passed away, — 
 It soared from death's dark sleep 
 
 To the light of endless day. 
 His dust hy stranger hands 
 
 To the sea's cold depths was given,- 
 But his soul by angel bands 
 
 Was borne to its home in heaven. 
 
32 THE DEATH OF REV. E. G. PRESCOTT. 
 
 Deep in the lonely main, 
 
 They have laid his cherished form, 
 Unheeded sounds the dirge 
 
 Of the sea-bird and the storm ; 
 But a mightier voice shall ring 
 
 Through the ocean's solemn caves, 
 . And that warning note shall bring 
 
 The dead from their nameless graves. 
 
 In the heavenly courts that form 
 In a glorious robe shall stand ; 
 
 Oh may we meet him there, — 
 There in the brighter laud ! 
 
 Though we sleep beneath the wave, 
 Or the sod where violets bloom. 
 
 May we find earth's lowliest grave 
 
 But the portal of our home ! 
 1844. 
 
Co a Cflinb. 
 
 Why not meet for friendship's token, 
 Guardian of that thoughtful brow ? 
 
 Fancies pure and dreams unspoken 
 Cluster round thee now. 
 
 While the tresses thou hast parted 
 Shade those calm and earnest eyes, 
 
 Thoughts of her, the gentle hearted 
 In my soul shall rise. 
 
 Midst her locks thou oft hast nestled 
 Fondly while she mused alone, 
 
 Heard'st thou not her inmost feelings 
 Breathed in trembling tone "? 
 
 Knowest thou not the fairy dwellers 
 
 In her fancy's secret home *? 
 Heard'st thou not their whispered voices 1 
 
 Tell me, faithful comb. 
 
34 A VALENTINE TO E. M, 
 
 Tell me all her wildest dreamings, 
 
 Whisper all those tones again ; 
 
 Tell me, and I then will guard thee 
 
 Fast in friendship's chain. 
 1846. 
 
 % falmtine to C. 
 
 Sat'st thou 'tis a lover's duty 
 
 By his glowing verse to prove 
 To thy heart the strength and beauty 
 Of his plighted love 1 
 
 Think'st thou love can count its treasures 
 
 In the common notes of song ? 
 Sound its depths with careless measures 
 Now forgotten long ? 
 
1847. 
 
 THE LAST DAY OF NINETEEN, 35 
 
 Breezes light the grasses bending 
 Scatter tones around their path, 
 Sweeter than the storm-wind rending 
 Forests in its wrath. 
 
 Sweetest music ever gusheth 
 
 From the brook that brawls along, 
 While the brimming river rusheth 
 Silently and strong. 
 
 Deeper thoughts and feelings dearer 
 
 Than the lip of song can sing, 
 Still to thee, life's gentle cheerer, 
 Evermore shall cling. 
 
 C^e fast Jau of Sineteen, 
 
 Twenty to-raorrow ! girlhood's hours are going, 
 So calmly spent within thy cherished home. 
 
 And now, perchance, thy gentle eyes o'erflowing, 
 Thou dreamest of the sterner davs to come. 
 
36 IIIE LA>ST DAY OF NINETKEN. 
 
 Thine hours of youth, those bright and careless hours 
 Now crowding fast upon thy memory come, 
 
 Thy native hills, the trees, the friendly flowers 
 And all the household voices of thy home. 
 
 And thou art sad ! for many a cherished token 
 Is fading on thy youth's receding shore, 
 
 And blessings breathed, and kindly warnings spoken, 
 Shall fall like music on thine ear no more. 
 
 Weep on ! I would not check a single tear, 
 
 Whose brightness doth its purer fountain prove, 
 
 Yet would I whisper comfort to thine ear 
 And to thy heart a word of earnest love. 
 
 Are there not visions of a nobler pleasure 
 
 Than e'er hath filled thine eyes with grateful tears. 
 
 And blessings given in yet more bounteous measure, 
 Than Heaven hath granted to thine earlier years ? 
 
 Are there not higher thoughts of love and duty 
 Of life's true work to do, its trials to bear, 
 
 That shed around thy path a holier beauty 
 And summon from thy heart a purer prayer I 
 
1848. 
 
 THE LAST DAY OF NINETEEN. Iw 
 
 Are there not waiting hearts to cheer thy sadness, 
 And one, of all, to whom thou wilt be given 
 
 To overflow his brimming cup of gladness 
 
 And make it sparkle with the smile of heaven ? 
 
 And though thy days of careless joy be ended, 
 
 Though trials may come, and times of anxious care. 
 
 Dost thou not know on Whom thou hast depended, 
 And will not mercy heed the voice of prayer 1 
 
 Then welcome, welcome to my home and heart, 
 
 Though scarce hath ebbed thy girlhood's joyous tide, 
 
 Thou still shall be to me life's " better part," 
 My heart's best friend, my counsellor, my guide. 
 
 And so when life's dark shadows round us lengthen, 
 O may they shade a path of peace and love, 
 
 A love that time and trial shall only strengthen, 
 A peace that speaks of endless rest above. 
 
bumm^^. 
 
baptism of Cms. 
 
 It was a beautiful Sunday evening, the lOtli after Trinity, 
 1862. 
 
 Dear L. lay in her own sweet room at rest for ever. At 
 her feet was her little altar, with her holy books as she last 
 had used them ; her Bible and Prayer Book, her " Keble,'' 
 ''A Kempis,'' and ''Holy living and dying." In the recess 
 of the western window stood a table covered with '' a fair 
 linen cloth," and spread with vases of fresli white flowers, 
 and a silver bowl filled with '' pure water." 
 
 Through the half-closed shutter came the rays of the set- 
 ting sun, and they brightened the flowers and glistened in 
 the water, and then stretched across the room to encircle 
 the calm and holy brow of '' our darling." 
 
 All was ready for the holy service. The Priest came in 
 and stood by the table. The little babe was brought, 
 dressed in its white baptismal robes, and all our loved ones 
 
42 THE BAPTISM OF TEARS. 
 
 stood about it, and its poor heart-broken father knelt by the 
 head of his sleeping wife. 
 
 For a moment all was still, while the Holy Spirit seemed 
 to fill all our hearts with peace. 
 
 Then the prayers were said, the water sanctified, the vows 
 made, our little treasure laid in the arms of Christ's minister, 
 its precious mother's name given ; the water sprinkled on its 
 little forehead '' in the name of the Father, Son and Holy 
 Grhost," the sign of the blessed Jesus made, while the little 
 one smiled sweetly, and then it was given back into the arms 
 of its mother's mother, a child of God, a member of Christ, 
 and an inheritor of the kingdom of Heaven to be nursed for 
 Jesus' sake. 
 
 We knelt again to yield our hearty thanks ; the Priest 
 blessed us and again all was quiet, while the spirit of our 
 sainted one seemed to come to us and bid us not to weep but 
 to rejoice. Afterwards when all had gone out and left our 
 dear one again alone, a fresh breeze came in and strewed the 
 holy water with white rose leaves. It seemed as if an angel 
 had scattered them there. 
 Auo^ust 16tli, 1852. E. L. M. to Bishop G. W. Doane. 
 
THE BAPTISM OF TEARS. 43 
 
 [In reply to the above letter the following was received from the Bishop.] 
 
 THE BAPTISM OF TEARS. 
 
 TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, AUGUST 15, 1852. 
 " Thej' that sow in tears, sball reap in joy." 
 
 The lovely day had passed away, 
 
 Its stillness, on the landscape lay ; 
 
 A summer's sunset's lingering rays 
 
 Still kept the atmosphere, ablaze ; 
 
 When, gathered in a darkened room, 
 
 Where light just glimmered, through the gloom, 
 
 A sorrowing circle, silent sate ; 
 
 Distressed, but not disconsolate. 
 
 But yesterday, and every grace. 
 
 That makes of home, a sacred place, 
 
 The comforts, and the charms of life. 
 
 That blend in Mother, and in Wife ; 
 
 All that the heart of man holds dear, 
 
 Was crowned and consecrated here. 
 
 Serene and beautiful, to-day. 
 
 Decked for the dead, our darling lay ; 
 
 Whose eye, whose soul, whose heart, had been 
 
 The charm of all this sacred scene ; 
 
44 THE BAPTISM OF TEARS. 
 
 So calm, SO sweet, our blessed dead, 
 We scarce could deem the spirit fled. 
 Like infant, tired, tiiat sinks to rest. 
 At noon, upon its Mother's breiist ; 
 Her score of summers scarcely done, 
 And yet, her crown of victory won. 
 It is her own, her charmed room, 
 This ante-chamber of the tomb ; 
 Her Bible opens, at the day ; 
 The Book, that taught her how to pray, 
 Her Taylor, Kempis, Keble, lie 
 Just where she left them, all, to die. 
 
 In western window's deep retreat, 
 
 A table stands, in order meet. 
 
 With linen cloth, and roses white, 
 
 And crystal water, pure and bright. 
 
 The lingering beams of parting day, 
 
 Upon the trembling waters play ; 
 
 Then stretching through the glimmering gloom. 
 
 That fills the still, and sacred room. 
 
 Upon our dear one's forehead fall, 
 
 Like some celestial coronal ; 
 
 For sainted Mother, meet array. 
 
 To grace her babe's baptismal day. 
 
THE BAPTISM OF TEARS. A 
 
 Upon her fair and pulseless head, 
 
 His hand, the kneeling husband laid ; 
 
 The honored father bowed him low, 
 
 The mother's tears in silence flow. 
 
 From sisters, brothers, loved ones, friends. 
 
 The hushed and stifled sorrow blends ; 
 
 One heart, one voice, in faltering flow. 
 
 Pours the low litany of woe, 
 
 '' Thou gavest, Thou hast taken. Lord, 
 
 We bless Th^^ Holy name and Word ! " 
 
 The surpliced Priest, comes gliding in ; 
 The wave is blessed that saves from sin, 
 It sparkles on an infant's brow. 
 The child of grace and glory, now. 
 The Mother's blessed name is given, 
 That one may serve for both, in Heaven ; 
 
 The cross is sealed, the pledge secured. 
 
 The heritage of Heaven, ensured ; 
 
 The Mother's arms, the treasure take. 
 
 With Jesu's mark, impressed, to nurse for Jesu's sake. 
 
 Scarce was the sacred service done. 
 
 And our dear dead one left alone, 
 
 When, whispering through the waving trees, 
 
 There came a balmy western breeze, 
 
40 AT THK SKA SHOUF,. 
 
 And strewed the rose-leaves, fair and white, 
 Upon the water, pure and hright. 
 As if some angel had been sent, 
 To certify the sacrament ; 
 And flowers of love and peace been given, 
 To strew our darling's path to Heaven ; 
 And way-marks left along the road, 
 To bring our baby, home to CTod. 
 Riverside, Auf/ust *22, 1852. 
 
 %\ \\)t Sta Sljort. 
 
 T O K . L . :M . ox HER BIRTHDAY. 
 
 While I stand and muse beside the sea, 
 Murmuring restlessly forevermore, 
 
 Other tones are wafted back to me — 
 Voices from the far eternal shore. 
 
AT THE SKA SHORE. 47 
 
 Words of love I nevermore shall hear, 
 Sounds of joy from earth forever gone, 
 
 Seem to float from some far distant sphere, 
 Mingling with the ocean's ceaseless tone. 
 
 But the joyful paths o'er which I trod 
 * When my darling walked the earth with me, 
 Ere her gentle soul went home to God, 
 Seem like golden isles beyond the sea. 
 
 Lone upon the shore of life I stand. 
 
 Wrecks of dearest liopes around me lie, 
 
 But life's fields of labor skirt the strand. 
 Through them lies the pathway to the sky. 
 
 Then to thee, my own dear sister-wife, 
 
 Turns my sorrowing heart with trust and love. 
 
 Clings to thee through all this weary strife, 
 Looks to thee to guide my steps above. 
 
 Welcome, dearest, to my home and heart. 
 None but thee could e'er be welcome there 
 
 In my memories thou alone hast part; 
 In my sorrows thou alone canst share. 
 
48 MAY. 
 
 Sharer of ray griefs, dear comforter ! 
 
 Not for thee the light of '' love's young dream," 
 
 But the joy of duties done for her, 
 
 Round thee like her gentle smile shall beam. 
 1854. 
 
 nl 
 
 Sadly through the blossoms 
 Call we our sweet May ; 
 
 May is all around you 
 Buds and blossoms say. 
 
 Heed you not her foot-prints 
 Wheresoe'er you pass ; 
 
 Buttercups and violets 
 
 Gleaming through the grass f 
 
MAY. 49 
 
 Feel you not her soft breath 
 Through the leaflets play f 
 
 Hear you not the l)lu(3-birds 
 Siugiug, Welcome May ? 
 
 Decks she not her orchards 
 With her robe of bloom f 
 
 Fills she not the wild- wood 
 With her rich perfume f 
 
 Smiles not every daisy 
 Through its dewy tear f 
 
 Sings not every streamlet. 
 May, sweet May, is here ? 
 
 Poureth not her sunshine 
 From the fount of day ? 
 
 Why among the blossoms 
 Call you then, Sweet May t 
 
 Vainly do we call her, 
 
 She is far away ; 
 Birds and brooks and blossoms 
 
 Are not our Sweet Mav. 
 
50 MAY. 
 
 Blither than the blue-birds. 
 Fairer than the flowers, 
 
 (lentler than the May breeze 
 Whispering through the bowers, 
 
 Brighter than the sunshine, 
 Merrier, than May -Day, 
 
 Purer than the blossoms 
 Was our darling May. 
 
 Thrice her little fingers 
 
 Plucked the bright May flowers, 
 
 Round her thrice the blossoms 
 Fell in fragrant showers. 
 
 Then e'er spring-buds opened, 
 Took her, He who gave, 
 
 And he spreads the May flowers 
 O'er her winter grave. 
 
 When no more the blossoms 
 
 Wake from winter's tomb, 
 
 Still in heavenly gardens 
 
 Our sweet May shall bloom. 
 1860. 
 
Ii?i«- 
 
 The '' Baptism of tears " was done, 
 
 The rites were closed, the Priest was gone ; 
 
 But still the blessed angel '^ sent 
 
 To certify the Sacrament " 
 
 Did vanish not amidst the gloom 
 
 That shadowed fast the '^ charmed room," 
 
 But lingered there to watch and weep 
 
 Where mother lay in holy sleep ; 
 
 And hovering o'er the infant's head 
 
 He dried the tears that love had shed, 
 
 But the baptismal drops divine 
 
 He left in their own light to shine ; 
 
 And bending, waiting, listening there, 
 
 He heard the soft unspoken prayer, — 
 
 Oh sweet and blessed angiil, stay ! 
 
 And go not with the morn away ; 
 
52 LIZZIE. 
 
 ^ Always I had ao angel near, 
 
 My sweet and precious mother dear ; 
 
 But she has gone beyond the sky. 
 
 Xo longer can she hear my cry ; 
 
 No more can she my footsteps lead. 
 
 Nor guard me in my hours of need. 
 
 Ah, who shall guide me on my way I 
 
 Oh bright and gracious angel, stay ! 
 
 The pitying spirit heard her cry 
 
 And sped not to his home on high ; 
 
 But yearning o'er that fleshly shrine 
 
 Now consecrate with holy sign, 
 
 Made it a living temple fair, 
 
 And dwelt a sacred presence there. 
 
 And morn by morn her opening eye 
 
 Beheld the angel standing by ; 
 
 And night by night her listening ear 
 
 Her angel's loving voice did hear. 
 
 He led her gently day by day 
 
 Through orphan childhood's dangerous way ; 
 
 He fed her soul with heavenly food. 
 
 Her mind with earth's most precious good ; 
 
 He led her forth in pastures green, 
 
 % Beside " still waters," pure and clean, 
 
LIZZIE. r;3 
 
 That flowed within the cloistered bowers 
 
 Where bloomed the self-same snow-white flowers 
 
 His hand had strewn, with sunset's light. 
 
 On her baptismal water bright. 
 
 He drew upon her radiant face 
 
 The lines of rare celestial grace, 
 
 And poured into her soft brown eyes 
 
 A light from far beyond the skies ; 
 
 He taught her lovely lips a speech 
 
 That angel tongue alone could teach ; 
 
 And clothed with gifts and graces rare 
 
 A moital form, for earth too fair — 
 
 Until a dower too rich was given, 
 
 Meet only for an heir of heaven. 
 
 And then — alas for hearts she left, 
 
 Of heavenly beauty twice bereft ! 
 
 Her angel bore her hence away 
 
 Beyond the bounds of life's dark day, 
 
 To taste once more her mother's love 
 
 In waiting arms outstretched above. 
 
 1862. 
 
^if^U'MK- 
 
irleni. 
 
 Nov. 17, 1877. 
 
 My Lulu in her teens to-day ! 
 She flhigs her childish gauds away. 
 And puts the graver garments on 
 More meet for girlhood's early dawn ; 
 She looks with eager, wistful gaze. 
 Far on through life's enticing maze, 
 Full sure to quaff diviner joys 
 Than e'er she found in childhood's toys, 
 Through years to brighten more and more, 
 Till three and ten shall be three-score. 
 Oh be it so ! but if it be, 
 'Tis childhood's love and childhood's glee. 
 And childhood's simple faith and trutli, 
 Will lend their charm to ripening youth, 
 And sweeten all the joys of life 
 For maiden, woman, mother, wife ; 
 And childhood's closed but spotless page 
 Be read from teens to utmost age. 
 
mtm. 
 
 My Fanny stands expectant on the verge 
 
 Which severs (childhood's safe and sheltering bower 
 
 From the rude turmoil of life's outer world. 
 
 For sixteen years within that fold secure, 
 
 Nurtured in peace and guarded by strong love, 
 
 Her eyes have seen but shapes of loveliness. 
 
 Her tongue has uttered only songs of joy, 
 
 Her ears have heard but tones of tenderness, 
 
 Her hands, though busy, have plucked only flowers, 
 
 Her feet, though fast they tripped, have found no thorns. 
 
 But now, a change ! her eager feet will press 
 
 Beyond tiie sheltering bound ; her wistful eye 
 
 Will turn from old delights, and fondly scan 
 
 AVith a vague wonder all the tempting paths 
 
 That stretch far out across the fields of life. 
 
 Some path she soon must tread ; oh could I choose 
 
 Which it shall be, and guard her safely there ! 
 
 Too well I know that all the ways of life, 
 
TltF: FIRST DIAMOND. 59 
 
 Though bright with flowers and cheered by purest joys, 
 Bat lead to heights of duty to be scaled. 
 Whatever path she treads, across it lies 
 The rugged ^- Momitain of the Holy Cross/' 
 Which she must climb before her journey ends. 
 Then go not yet, my child ! the way is long, 
 I cannot guide thee far ; some stronger love 
 May snatch thee from niy arms, or I may faint 
 Upon the way, and leave thee there alone. 
 Still nestle here within the fold of home. 
 Nov. 18, 1878. 
 
 Cl)e Jfirst Jiamoiib. 
 
 How bright her own first diamond shines, 
 In maiden's eyes at sweet sixteen ! 
 
 How fair the earth, how pure the sky. 
 Reflected in its liquid sheen ! 
 
60 THE FIRST DIAMOND. 
 
 Across its steady shafts of light 
 
 Her brief bright past no shadow throws ; 
 
 And dancing in its crystal depths 
 In shapes of joy, the future glows. 
 
 From this cold stone the light will shine 
 
 Through smiles and tears through joy and care, 
 
 The rays that glow on golden curls 
 Will gleam as bright on silver hair. 
 
 When steps shall fail and eyes grow dim, 
 When youth is but a far-off dream. 
 
 This fount of light ,will flow as free. 
 Its changeless rays as brightly gleam. 
 
 I give my child this shining stone, 
 
 That one sure truth her heart may learn, — 
 
 From youth to age, through joy and pain. 
 
 Through smiles and tears, my love shall burn, 
 Christmas, 1878, 
 
% das]j for a Christmas Claak. 
 
 Grandmother dear, whose eyes have seen 
 Now five and seventy Christmas morns, 
 
 And from whose path through all the years. 
 The hands of love have plucked the thorns ; 
 
 What gift, in proof that our dear love 
 Outweighs thy load of years, shall we, 
 
 Thy five and twenty children, bring. 
 In worth and purpose meet for thee. 
 
 Not pearls — though fit for crown of queen ; 
 
 Not precious stones — though dazzling bright ; 
 The halo of thy rounded life 
 
 Would quench for us the diamond's light. 
 
 Not books — though every page should burn 
 
 With sages' lore and poets' fire ; 
 Thy days have nobler wisdom taught, 
 
 Than sage's pen or poet's lyre. 
 
62 MY wtfk's CRrrtiiES. 
 
 Not costly wel) or curious vase — 
 For all that iiiiuted gold could buy 
 
 Were poor beside thy g-aruered wealth — 
 Tile treasures tliou hast stored ou high. 
 
 We give this cloak of warmest fur. 
 
 To guard thy forui trom winter's blast ; 
 
 Thy mother-heart, with warmer clasp, 
 Our love shall sliield while lite shall last, 
 
 Christmas. lf:78. 
 
 Pii Wfe's Crntt|)es. 
 
 Ye solemn, gaunt, ungainly crutches, 
 
 That serve her frame such slippery tricks, 
 
 Were yon witliin my lawful clutches, 
 I'd fling you back in River Slyx, 
 
MY WlFi:'S CRUTCIIEH. (j;> 
 
 Ye grew beside the Boat of Charon, 
 
 111 murky fens of Stygian gloom, 
 Nor ever, like the rod of Aaron, 
 
 Shall your grim spindles burst in bloom. 
 
 Your reeds were tuned for groans rheumatic, 
 
 And croaking sighs from gouty man ; 
 Nor e'er shall thrill with tones ecstatic, 
 
 As did the pi])es of ancient Pan. 
 
 Avauiit you then, ye helpers dismal ! 
 
 Offend ray eyes and ears no more ; 
 do stalking back to realms abysmal, 
 
 And iTuide the i>-hosts on Lethe's shore. 
 
 to' 
 
 But see ! while yet my words upbraid them, 
 Her crutches bud witli blossoms fair. 
 
 And Patience, Love, and Faitli have made them 
 Liian Aaron's Rod, more rich and rare. 
 
 And hark ! from out their hollows slender. 
 No dismal groans or sighs proceed, — 
 
 But tones of joy more sweet and tender 
 Than swelled from Pan's enchanted reed. 
 
64 FRITZ. 
 
 Then stay ! your use her worth diselo^es, 
 Your ghastly frames her worth transmutes, 
 
 From withered sticks, to stems of roses — 
 From creaking reeds, to magic flutes. 
 January, 1879. 
 
 MU. 
 
 Happy, winsome little Fritz, 
 Mamma's faithful crutchifer, 
 
 Soilly round lier knees he flits, 
 (Had for e'en the touch of her. 
 
 Sober, solemn little Fritz, 
 Only nine and yet so wise. 
 
 At her feet demure he sits, — 
 Ears attent, and wondering eyes. 
 
THE AC(^LYTK. (55 
 
 Jolly, merry little Fritz, 
 
 Quick to catch tlie quips and jokes, 
 
 Laugbiiig- till his sides he splits, 
 Giggling till be nearly chokes. 
 
 Gentle, loving little Fritz, 
 
 Last of all the household line, 
 Frank and true, as well befits 
 
 Polished gentleman of nine. 
 
 There, your birth-day portrait, Fritz, 
 
 Painted by paternal toucbes, 
 Drains my rhymes, and strains my wits, — 
 (io and carry mamma's crutches. 
 January 29. 1879. 
 
 C^e ^colijte. 
 
 Beneath the shadows of the Porch, 
 
 Within whose depths God's Altar stands, 
 
 The Acolyte uplifts the torch 
 
 And bears it on with reverent hands. 
 
66 THE ACOLYTE. 
 
 He steps within the sacred rail, 
 Where no unhallowed foot may tread ; 
 
 And fearless wallvs, where pride would quail. 
 And sin would shrink with mortal dread. 
 
 He stands unshamed before the Ark — 
 Upturns his pure, undazzled eyes ; 
 
 And, poising higli the quivering spark, 
 He light the fires of sacrifice. 
 
 Why stands this child in God's own place 
 And feels no sense of human shame. 
 
 When even Moses hid his face, 
 
 And shrank with awe from Horeb's flame f 
 
 Such child-like faith might mount on High, 
 And pass Heaven's Grate without appall ; 
 
 Like Samuel, answer, '' Here am I,'' 
 If ev'n the Lord Himself should call. 
 
 Such eyes of innocence could gaze 
 
 Unblenched on Altar fires above ; 
 And walk, like Shadrach, through the blaze. 
 Unharmed, with Him whose name is Love. 
 February 24, 1879. 
 
% ^irge for olb Bl S>iqWs, 
 
 The cbureh that bears the martyr's name 
 Beneath the axe and luimmer falls ; 
 
 Its carven work the spoilers break, 
 And ruthless hands destroy its walls. 
 
 Where swelled so long the organ tones, 
 Now flow the voiceless waves of air, 
 
 And mute upon the soundless sod 
 
 Now lies the tongue that called to prayer. 
 
 The saints whose faithful watch was kept, . 
 
 With sandaled feet and solemn eyes, 
 Recoiling from the vandal touch, 
 
 Have fled away to distant skies. 
 
 And Charity and Faith and Hope 
 
 No more shall shed their blessings down 
 
 On heads before the altar bent. 
 
 Beneath the picturec] Cross and CrowQ-. 
 
(i8 A DIRGE FOR OLD ST. STEPHEN'S, 
 
 Along those dim familiar aisles 
 
 No more the bridal train shall tread ; 
 
 No babe shall smile before the font, 
 No stricken mourner wail the dead. 
 
 Its form shall fade from human thought, 
 
 Its place be lost in coming days. 
 And weeds of toil and greed shall grow, 
 
 Where bloomed the flowers of prayer and praise. 
 
 Yet on this spot, in years to come, 
 Where haply other walls shall rise, 
 
 And other sounds of mart or home 
 
 Shall break the hush of evening skies, — 
 
 Some drops of balm will softly fall 
 To heal the wounds of souls in pain ; 
 
 Some lingering tones of love or hope 
 Shall stir the pulses once again. 
 
 Some life-worn man, whose wandering feet 
 Have lost the ways of faith and truth. 
 
 Will pause and bend his ear to catch 
 Faint echoes from his sinless youth, 
 
A DIRGE FOR OLD ST. STEPHEN'S. 69 
 
 Some woman, burdened with life's woes, 
 Whose heart with bitter anguish swells, 
 
 Shall stop and lift her weary head 
 To hear her far-off marriage bells. 
 
 No plough can raze the deep-drawn lines 
 Where Christian soldiers waged their strife ; 
 
 And seeds long sown shall swell and bloom 
 In soil where grew the Bread of life. 
 October, 1879. 
 
^# > > V 
 
 XA. 
 
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