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Poems .Ifl'TS?" 
 lie? 
 
 We often read poems of nature, 
 We often read poems of art, 
 
 But in all the world there 're no poems 
 Like those that tell woes of the heart 
 
 That tell us of life and its anguish, 
 
 Of its struggles and heartaches and pains; 
 
 That tell how the spirit will languish, 
 
 Then how God in His strength ever reigns. 
 
 That tell how the soul can be master 
 O'er body, in this world of ours. 
 
 Just the same as when on our coffin. 
 
 Friends lay their late garlands of flowers. 
 
 ^/Yy£^£^ C^OA^U^l^ 
 
^Gvtmaxh 
 
 The sweetest singers are imprisoned birds. 
 Most loving hearts oft saddest; 
 
 From chastened souls come noblest words, 
 Unselfish loves are maddest. 
 
 Such is the expression of a singer, who, from the 
 prison house of intense physical suffering, and the long, 
 dark shadows of solitude, sends forth her melody of 
 pain and passion, of resignation and faith, in this little 
 voume. Sung in the Shadows. 
 
 In her school girl days this author was known as 
 a girl of beautiful thoughts. But the joys and loves 
 and duties of a woman's life crowded each hour to the 
 fullest, and the beautiful thoughts went unchronicled. 
 
 Then came the prison house with its fetters of pain 
 and its shadows of inactivity. 
 
 During these years the author studied himianity, and 
 the thoughts which she has clothed in verse came 
 through her varied experiences and close observations 
 of life as it is lived. So perfectly does she seem to 
 understand the emotions of the human heart, its loves 
 and joys and sorrows, that the reader ofttimes finds 
 vision tear-dimmed, for it seems his or her own heart- 
 ache has been described. 
 
 No bars confine thought. Great souls grow them- 
 selves wings and by their own innate power lift them- 
 selves above earthly things, while great minds see in 
 the darkest shadows surest proof of the shining sun. 
 
 In Sung in the Shadows, there is the looking 
 upward of the soul toward the radiance of the gold 
 behind the gray. I , > , 
 
 
 (J.: 
 
LIBRARY of OONtjHESS 
 I wo Oooies hevttivee 
 
 JUL 16 ItaOb 
 
 T^ I I I 8 -7 
 
 6 cJOt^YB. 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1908 
 
 BY 
 
 ALICE FRANCE 
 
 PRESS OF 
 N. KELLOGG NEWSPAPER CO. 
 LITTLE ROCK, ARK. 
 
3ln MtmavQ 
 
ALICE FRANCE 
 
pasBtnn an& patn 
 
Let's make a grave for your love and 
 
 And bury it deep and low; 
 Even though it cost us many a pain. 
 
 Dear heart, 'twere better so, 
 In the cold, dark earth let's lay it away, 
 
 Down, down where damps and chills 
 Will soon its beautiful form decay. 
 
 And deaden its exquisite thrills. 
 
 *Tis vain and useless, this love of ours. 
 
 And can only bring us tears. 
 Better slay it now in its infancy. 
 
 Than when it gains strength from years; 
 For then the murdered corpse will rise. 
 
 And its dead hands beckon and wave. 
 While the infant may meekly slumber on. 
 
 Far down in its deep, dark grave. 
 
 You shudder and sicken at what I say, 
 
 But I tell you we must forget. 
 We must lay this warm, pulsing love away. 
 
 Though it be with groan and regret. 
 We must lay it low, oh, my beloved, 
 
 Even though it may struggle and smile; 
 We must heap on it great clods of earth 
 
 That will crush it after awhile. 
 
You are so handsome and debonair. 
 With a soul of flame and a heart of fire. 
 With high, pure thoughts of womanhood. 
 And every virtue that makes man good. 
 
 Exalted thought shines forth on your face. 
 And gives it a tender beauty and grace 
 That comes from a mind divine and pure, 
 And a loyalty that will long endure. 
 
 Your soul looking out from your eyes so gray, 
 Doth over my being hold mighty sway; 
 Till wild emotions my breast do reign. 
 And I thrill and tremble with exquisite pain. 
 
 My soul to thine is divinely wed, 
 And had I entered the ranks of the dead. 
 And lain for ages neath earth's cold wall. 
 My ashes would quiver and throb at your cal 
 
 Or should you enter the ranks of hel 
 My heart tells me, yes, I know full well, 
 I'd leave forever the throngs of the blest. 
 To rest for aye on your burning breast. 
 
You Said that Fd Forget You 
 
 The moon is slowly rising 
 
 O'er this dreary western plain, 
 And the days when first I knew you 
 
 Seem to all come back again. 
 My heart for you is longing, 
 
 Though that longing is in vain. 
 And I'm wondering if I'll meet you 
 
 In this sad old world again. 
 
 You said that I'd forget you. 
 
 And our dear, lost days of yore. 
 But my darling I now love you 
 
 As I never loved before. 
 The nightingale's sad singing. 
 
 In a dismal, sweet refrain. 
 Brings back your face and voice, dear, 
 
 And fills my heart with pain. 
 
 There's a sob on all the breezes, 
 
 And the flowers droop their heads; 
 They seem to know Jind feel, dear, 
 
 The thought my heart most dreads. 
 For I fear that you're forgetting. 
 
 Though you said that you'd be true. 
 And the heart that once was joyous. 
 
 Now wears away for you. 
 
Gazing into the depths of the dark, red rose, 
 
 Methinks I can see your soul. 
 Its exquisite fragrance about me throws 
 
 A charm that is perfect and whole. 
 
 'Tis the self-same charm that makes me reel. 
 When the lijht from your eyes so gray 
 
 Warms my very being, and makes me feel 
 That my soul has left its clay. 
 
 Your face, with its fiery passion and grace, 
 Looks out from the heart of the flower. 
 
 A maddenng response through my veins doth race. 
 I am yours for Ife — or an hour. 
 
Do you remember how in days that are gone. 
 
 Sweetheart was the name I knew? 
 And do you ever, deep down in your heart 
 
 Wish those days would come back to you? 
 Days when love seemed all worth living for. 
 
 Though the very thought was a stain; 
 When the sweetest and greatest joy I knew 
 
 Was your voice breathing my name. 
 
 Sweetheart, from the voice of a useless passion 
 
 That made earth a heaven seem, 
 Ah, we both will be dust 'ere we forget 
 
 Those halcyon days I ween. 
 Oft I determine to crush this love, 
 
 But at thought of the old pet name. 
 It bursts through the ashes I heap on it 
 
 And the smouldering coals are aflame. 
 
A flame that hisses and withers and burns, 
 
 To be only half quenched by tears. 
 When I wonder if ever again we'll meet 
 
 Through all the coming years. 
 Oh, have you forgotten your little sweetheart. 
 
 My face have you ceased to miss. 
 Do other lips than mine now know 
 
 Your fond, warm, clinging kiss? 
 
 O, there is no killing a love like mine! 
 
 Does no voice to you whispering say 
 That to know your touch and feel your kiss 
 
 I would barter my soul today? 
 Ah, I know that you sometimes think of me. 
 
 And though we are leagues apart 
 That across the miles this war thrills you. 
 
 That is raging in my heart. 
 
How can I wait until the morning's dawn? 
 
 How can I pass the weary hours that yawn. 
 
 Until I clasp thy hand, and see ihy face? 
 
 God grant me patience till that sweet time of grace. 
 
 How can I wait — 
 'Till the pressure of thy quivering lips on mine. 
 Will make my sluggish blood flow warm as wine? 
 'Till I can drink the love-light in thy eyes, 
 And know that what e're storms may henceforth rise, 
 That I am safe, am shielded from all harm. 
 Folded within the clasp of thy strong arm. 
 
 How can I wait. 
 
In my heart forever 
 A nameless longing ; 
 In my soul forever 
 A vague unrest 
 Because of a woman's 
 Awful craving 
 For the true soul mate, 
 The one loved best. 
 
 I'm dreaming, hoping, 
 Praying always. 
 As I wander down 
 The aisle of time. 
 That through God's grace 
 And boundless mercy 
 This greatest boon of any 
 May be mine. 
 
*Tis not an hour since you went from my side, 
 But ah, the world seems lonely, drear and wide; 
 The music of the pines now seems a dirge; 
 And unto tears my feelings almost verge. 
 
 The sun sinks low into the golden west, 
 All nature seems so placid and at rest. 
 The balmy pines a mild, sweet fragrance yield; 
 Alas, no magic power for me they wield. 
 
 One hour ago a fire leaped through my veins, 
 But now an icy calm and quiet reigns; 
 Your kisses brought the hot blood to my cheek, 
 As through my very being they did sweep. 
 
The sunshine of my life is in your eyes, 
 They bid me to all power and goodness rise. 
 You speak, you smile, and I am blithe and strong. 
 You frown — and all my world goes strangely wrong. 
 
 Your presence is so needed by my soul. 
 To round it into one, sweet perfect whole. 
 Do you wonder at the riot in my breast, 
 Refusing to acknowledge God knows best? 
 
I know you are just a man, love, 
 
 Yet to me you have grown so dear. 
 
 That my longing to be near you. 
 Oft brings to my eye a tear. 
 
 And then when I am near you. 
 How rosy each moment grows, 
 
 My heartbeats are wild, though muffled. 
 And my blood in rapture flows. 
 
 My breath comes quick and panting. 
 My eyes do brightly shine. 
 
 Your kiss seems to act like the magic. 
 Of mad, delirious wine. 
 
 And then, sweetheart, your leaving. 
 Is like the setting of the sun; 
 
 All space has lost its glory. 
 And for me the day is done. 
 
Ah, was it a platonic kiss 
 You pressed upon my lips, 
 
 That made my stagnemt blood leap up 
 And burn my finger tips? 
 
 It seems to me, dear friend of mine, 
 
 That something is amiss. 
 When such platonic friends as we. 
 
 Burn rosy from a kiss. 
 
Oh, holy hour! The one I spend 
 In sweet communion with that friend 
 Whose heart with mine keeps perfect time, 
 Whose mind lifts mine to heights sublime. 
 
 A friend whose eyes are windows bright. 
 Through which God sheds a holy light 
 To shine on me, and make me know 
 That heaven is now, yes, here below. 
 
 A friend whose soul doth blend with mine 
 In unity that is divine, 
 Until I feel God's very powet 
 Is given me. Oh, holy hour! 
 
I sit alone tonight, the clouds hang low. 
 And as I sit I think, and think of you, 
 
 And of those happy days — not long ago. 
 When I believed not what I now find true. 
 
 How could I know I would regret those days — 
 The days in which I left you far behind? 
 
 E'en though I thought I could not like your ways 
 I know that you were always more than kind. 
 
 How could I know I would so miss your face, 
 Your fond, sweet smile and gentle tone of love. 
 
 Ah, dear, my love now flies to you through space. 
 With greater fleetness than a carrier dove. 
 
 Could I but live those lost days o'er again 
 I would not wound your loving, tender heart. 
 
 You would not seek my kindness all in vain, 
 
 Wise have I grown since we are leagues apart. 
 
Forget you? Is it not best I should forget; 
 
 Since remembrance can but bring deep regret 
 Of days so dear, now gone? But I know yet 
 
 Full well, that I will not forget. 
 
 Ah, yes, and sometime you may know how true 
 Is the heart you often deemed so cold. 
 
 How often it has writhed and bled for you, 
 But 'tis woman's mission we all know. 
 
I give myself to thee, 
 
 Most holy is my love, 
 My soul is wholly thine, 
 
 'Tis the will of Him above. 
 
 I trust my life to thee; 
 
 If thou my heart's blood spill; 
 In giving all to thee, 
 
 I know I do God's wil 
 
 My soul must soar with thine, 
 By faith and actions sown; 
 
 And work, and truth, and love, 
 To heights as yet unknown. 
 
 I gave myself to thee. 
 Setting the world apart. 
 
 Thou hast the all of me. 
 
 My faith, my soul, my heart. 
 
'Tis a rain of doubt and distrust 
 Of one whose faith proved small; 
 
 And of all the throes of the heart, 
 Distrust is the worst of all. 
 
 O God, 'tis worse than death, 
 The knowledge sickens the soul, 
 
 To find one trusted, false, 
 
 While you staked, and lost the whole! 
 
 To give your heart' pure gold 
 
 And get nothing but dross in return, 
 
 To find that but few keep faith. 
 Seems a lesson we all must learn. 
 
 But in heaven the faithful will find 
 The heart does not bleed in vain; 
 
 That for every throe of the heart, 
 God gives us strength and gain. 
 
Like a bee thai flits from flower to flower. 
 Just sipping sweetness here and there; 
 Or pausing never, even an hour. 
 To find if the sweetness lasting be. 
 So you dare go from heart to heart, 
 Expecting full return, alas 
 "Where you have scarcely given a part! 
 Ah, you can't trifle thus with me! 
 
 Great souls give all, demanding all. 
 Or will they brook division of 
 A love that they deem worthy of 
 Their own. A lighter love they call 
 Not love, but friendship true and free. 
 Which is the bond twixt you and me. 
 
Don't pale when I talk of leaving, 
 And shiver so with dread; 
 
 For there's no such thing as parting, 
 Where minds and souls are wed. 
 
 Though by miles we are divided, 
 My soul will laugh at space; 
 
 And will hold you, my beloved. 
 In a close and warm embrace. 
 
 Thy soul will oft be seeking 
 The comradeship of mine; 
 
 And oft through distance winging, 
 We'll hold commune divine. 
 
Only Friends 
 
 Only friends we agreed to be, 
 The day you went marching away from me, 
 A soldier of fortune to battle with life, 
 To conquer or die as you met with the strife. 
 
 Only friends, only friends, 
 O, what could be a more cruel fate 
 Than to find too late how your heart must ache? 
 
 Because you were only friends. 
 
 Only friends, but now I know 
 That out of such friendship true love must grow, 
 And I turn away from each face I see. 
 Which proves you were more than a friend to me. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Only friends, only friends, 
 O, what could be a more cruel fate 
 Than to find too late how your heart must ache? 
 
 Because you were only friends. 
 
Yes, I am going to leave you. 
 
 You shall crush my spirits no more. 
 
 All my finer, tenderer feelings 
 
 You have drenched in my own heart' 
 
 gore. 
 
 You plead with me earnestly, "Love me; 
 
 O, love me forevermore, 
 Just as you have my sweetheart. 
 
 In the days that have gone before." 
 
 Then in pity I forgive you. 
 
 Just as a woman will. 
 And once more you seem quite happy 
 
 In knowing you have me stil 
 
 And then when you feel you have won me, 
 
 You suddenly grow so cold 
 That you'd freeze the heart within me 
 
 Were it many time* more bold. 
 
Man's ways are so strange and peculiar. 
 That a woman never knows 
 
 Why the moment he feels he has her, 
 She to lesser value grows. 
 
 And so I am going to leave you, 
 
 And forget you if I can. 
 I'll guard well my heart in the future 
 
 And not care for any man. 
 
 But I give to you fair warning. 
 As the days go slowly by 
 
 You will miss my tender sympathy. 
 And the love glance of my eye. 
 
 And in the night's dark shadows, 
 I'll steal gently back to you, 
 
 And many an hour you will ponder, 
 And wonder if I'm true. 
 
O, I'm weary of life as my mind doth dwell 
 
 On the love in my heart which men would call hell; 
 
 For the object is bound by ties here below, 
 
 To acknowledge my love what a whirlwind I'd sow. 
 
 Ah, what know men who write for me laws, 
 Of my soul and my heart and their dire calls? 
 In obeying these laws I struggle to be; 
 When but union of souls can make me free. 
 
 Could I leave the mother who gave me birth, 
 For the cold, calm clasp of mother earth; 
 How sweetly I'd rest on my lowly bier, 
 Without a murmur, without a fear. 
 
 For then will my mind and my soul be free 
 To flit where e're it longs to be. 
 My spirit will hover near him I love. 
 With not one critic in throngs above. 
 
You had come to say your last good-bye, 
 The hour drew nigh and my eyes were dry; 
 I smothered my grief and appeared to be gay. 
 For wasn't I anxious to go away? 
 
 I knew it was best that we should so part. 
 Though the effort to do so was breaking my heart; 
 When you found I was going you had begged me to stay. 
 Then said it was best I should go away. 
 
 We spoke not of the future, but of trivial things, 
 Ah, it seems at such moments that time has wings; 
 Then you suddenly kissed me and cried in dismay: 
 "Sweetheart, I'll be lonely when you are away!" 
 
 Then I forgot dignity, duty, reserve. 
 And as monsoons the waters of oceans do swerve. 
 My mad, reckless love on my heart strings did play. 
 And I only remembered I was going away. 
 
 I kissed you as you'd not been kissed in long years, 
 Your strong mouth was quivering, in your eyes there 
 
 were tears. 
 That we our true feelings and not pride did obey. 
 Made one-half less the pain of my going away. 
 
Last night I had a dream of you, 
 And in my heart I wish it true; 
 Your white face, dearer than any man's 
 I fondly clasped between my hands, 
 And in my joy, forgot dismay, 
 And lovingly kissed your cares away. 
 
 Then I shrank back, would you resent, 
 And of my act make me repent? 
 And would you darkly frown and sneer 
 And bid me not to come so near? 
 Or would you smile and welcome me. 
 And all my doubts and fears set free? 
 
 Ah, you did smile, and kissed me too. 
 And told me I was good and true; 
 That your gruffness had but veiled deep love 
 Surpassed alone by that above. 
 And I looked in your eyes and knew. 
 That I was all the world to you. 
 
jR^atgnatton atih S^attli 
 
Dear Lord I come to Thee, 
 Rejoicing in my pain, 
 
 I know it means for me 
 Great heavenly gain. 
 
 That if I trust in Thee, 
 
 Thou'It help me bear my cross. 
 And lift me leagues above 
 
 All earthly loss. 
 
Life seems so hard at rimes, 
 
 The way so dark; 
 
 I long for rime to come 
 
 When I embark — 
 
 The time to cross the stream 
 
 And know heaven's gain, 
 
 To reach that shore, now veiled in grey- 
 Eternity, by name. 
 
 I grow so rired of life 
 
 With all its pain 
 Of tortue I must bear 
 
 Times and again, 
 Somerimes I can not feel 
 
 That all is well. 
 But find my heart and brain swift changed 
 
 Into a turbid hell. 
 
 My heart then seeks 
 
 An attitude of prayer. 
 And lo! the strife and gloom 
 
 Turns wondrous fair. 
 I put my armor on — 
 
 'Tis love of God — 
 And with His love my refuge, I 
 
 Can kiss the chastening rod. 
 
When trials gather round, 
 And all thy plans confound, 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 If earthly woes assail. 
 And thy own strength doth fail, 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 When thou art worn with pain. 
 And all thy prayers seem vain. 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 If thou a- weary grow. 
 Know that 'tis better so, 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 For, child, I know what's best. 
 Thou surely shalt be blest. 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
When thou hast done the right. 
 Know 'tis well in my sight. 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 If this world's ways are hard, 
 Thou art not from heaven bar'd. 
 Lean thou on Me, 
 
 If storms come thick and fast, 
 Though shaken by the blast. 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 For thee I will not fail 
 Though tempests should prevail, 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
 In youth and in thy prime 
 And in life's eventime, 
 Lean thou on Me. 
 
All day they raged. 
 
 The storms in my heart. 
 In a wild and fierce degree, 
 'Til it seemed of my soul 
 
 I must lose all hope, 
 And meet nothing but hell's decree. 
 
 But at eventide 
 
 There came a calm, 
 And I prayed to the God above 
 Till my breast was quiet, 
 
 My mind at rest — 
 I was chastened through His love. 
 
When in pain I must lie 
 
 On my tiresome bed, 
 
 Round my pillow I hear angels throng; 
 
 And they whisper: 
 
 "The greater the cross you bear. 
 
 The more jeweled will be your crown. 
 
 That there never was gain 
 
 Without great pain, 
 
 That the heavenly way is bright. 
 
 And for those who suffer 
 
 And murmur not. 
 
 Comes great and lasting light." 
 
 Sometimes when my heart is rebellious and sore, 
 
 Comes a voice so sweet and so mild, 
 
 Whisp'ring, "To enter His kingdom 
 
 You must become 
 
 As meek as a little child." 
 
 Then I crush down my pain. 
 
 And take heart again. 
 
 And meet my fate with a smile; 
 
 Hoping to be 
 
 Humble, patient and good. 
 
 In just a little while. 
 
I know — 
 How one can rise o'er conunon things, 
 Until the very soul in Heaven sings; 
 And then drop back to things below, 
 I know, I know. 
 
 I know — 
 How black temptations gather round. 
 Till heart and soul seem by sin bound. 
 And we find Hell where o're we go, 
 I know, I know. 
 
 I know — 
 How hot and scorching is the pain. 
 While thinking one can't tise again. 
 To feel you're lost; that all is woe, 
 I know, I know. 
 
 I know — 
 How hard it is to find the way. 
 To feel yourself just common clay. 
 To fear your soul has ceased to grow, 
 I know, I know. 
 
Just brave this world's cold storms 
 And falter not, my heart; 
 
 Soon peace will come to thee, 
 To nevermore depart. 
 
 The longest life is short; 
 
 'Tis really but a day 
 Till we lay down our work, 
 
 Bid farewell to the fray. 
 
 To find in life to come 
 
 That God doth well repay 
 
 Those who do bravely meet 
 The trials of today. 
 
 Then bear thy burdens, heart. 
 The battle ne'er give o'er; 
 
 When thou so soon will reach 
 Eternity's bright shore. 
 
Oh, God! Show me the way 
 That leads to peace and right, 
 
 Teach me to lean on Thee 
 In the darkest of the night. 
 
 For this prison house of clay. 
 In which I must abide, 
 
 Ofttimes so cramps my soul 
 I can't my anguish hide. 
 
 Oh God! Forgive thy child 
 For beating its soul wings 
 
 Against these prison bars. 
 Forgetting higher things. 
 
When earthly friends fail 
 And can't my sins forgive, 
 
 Oh Father, love me then. 
 Let me repent and live. 
 
 Just let me live to know 
 
 That each cross helps me rise; 
 
 That for a purpose grand 
 Thou dost thy child chastise. 
 
 Oh God! Show me the way 
 To live, and do my part. 
 
 Low at Thy feet, dear Lord, 
 I lay this contrite heart. 
 
Pray on, sad soul, and peace, 
 
 Yes, peace divine will come to thee. 
 
 God will from woe the hearts release 
 That to Him humbly; plea. 
 
 His ways seem dark, I know; 
 
 Yet as day follows night, the light 
 Will come to thee; although 
 
 'Tis now a dense and starless night. 
 
 Just pray, and healing He 
 
 Will send to thy sore heart, sad soul. 
 Doubt not God's love for thee, 
 
 And He will save and make thee whole. 
 
 If ye believe and ask 
 
 He gives. Believe, have faith, and pray! 
 'Twill be no idle task. 
 
 For He will wash thy woes away. 
 
Just trust, do not forget that God knows best, 
 Know that He'll give thee gain for every pain; 
 That He knows all the woes that thy soul reign. 
 Trust Him, and in due time He'll give thee rest. 
 
 No matter if thy body lame doth lie, 
 Or blindness strikes earth's beauties from thine eye. 
 Know that the dear God loves thee, and knows why. 
 Know that thy soul can never, never die. 
 
 Oh, trust Him, and believe Him until He 
 Releases thee from bondage here on earth. 
 Just trust Him, and thou'll know a soulful birth, 
 That's better far than health or wealth can be. 
 
 Believe in Him, emd meekly bear thy woes, 
 No matter what thy tortue seems, or is; 
 For, child, thy woe and tortue are all His, 
 Believe in God for He knows best. He knows. 
 
Have charily, sweet charily, 
 And others' sins forgive. 
 
 We are not in a perfect world, 
 And others loo must live. 
 
 Must live to love and struggle on, 
 
 To suffer and to know 
 That hearts to be both true and strong 
 
 Must often feel great woe. 
 
 Temptations gather thickly round, 
 Mistakes we all must make. 
 
 Help and forgive thy fellow-men, 
 For charity's sweet sake. 
 
My heart is sad tonight, so sad. 
 It is in mournful memories clad. 
 It seems oppressed by woes of years. 
 And scarce can bear its weight of tears. 
 
 Vague sorrows through its chambers roam. 
 And all the world seems sad and lone. 
 Yet I know not why I should pine, 
 No single grief can I define. 
 
 In nature too, there is unrest; 
 As if she also, were oppress'd. 
 The lightning's flash and thunder's roll. 
 Is like the tumult in my soul. 
 
 Ah, heart, I tell thee God knows why. 
 These storms do cleanse and purify. 
 So meekly I bow to His will. 
 And whisper, "Heart, be still, be still. 
 
O dear love, faint not, I love thee alone; 
 
 Thy God from on high 
 
 Is calling thee home. 
 He bids thee be strong amid weary strife. 
 And enter a nobler and holier life. 
 
 Ah, hark! There are angels now calling to thee. 
 
 They cry, love arise! 
 
 Be free, O, be free! 
 There's a clarion voice amid the glad throng 
 That's calling to thee, "Be strong, O, be strong!' 
 
They tell me, oh, my Mother, thou art dead*, 
 This heart of mine now has an empty room. 
 Because thou left me soon, ah, far too soon; 
 Because of grave-damps round thy head 
 Thou'rt dead to me. 
 
 I'll see thee never more. 
 Or hear thee gently vs^hispering in my ear. 
 Assuring me that thou art ever near. 
 
 They do not understand my soul can soar 
 To heights divine, and hear thy spirit say: 
 "Weep not, my child, for in a little while 
 Thou too, beloved, must come this way — this way. 
 Let work and faith and love thy hours beguile 
 Till thou hast reached this realm of endless day. 
 My child, I'll greet thee— 
 
 In a little while." 
 
Of all the virtues God bestows on man, 
 I often think sincerity the best; 
 For on this virtue other hearts can rest 
 And feel secure, 
 
 I know that in His plan 
 Of things, God meant that all should be sincere. 
 And by this virtue struggling souls uplift. 
 
 Sincerity — ah, what a noble gift! 
 
 To know that when the world seems dark and drear. 
 
 There is one friend in whom you can believe; 
 
 Who would not stoop to idle words of praise 
 
 Or foster hopes meant only to deceive; 
 
 Whose every act is earnest as God's ways. 
 
 And would from pain and woe your heart relieve. 
 
 To feel that heaven is drawing very near 
 Is what it means to have a friend sincere. 
 
Canst thou not trust thy God, oh, soul of mine, 
 When pain and earthly woes do seek thee out, 
 And darkness seems to wrap thee round about? 
 
 Canst thou not trust that God in His good time 
 Will show thee why He did thee thus chastise? 
 
 Thou knowesl whom He chastens, God loves best; 
 No soul would grow if always free and blest. 
 
 Oh, soul, believe that God is wise — all wise; 
 Help other souls to rise from out the gloom 
 That doth encompass them, and divine light 
 Will come to thee. 
 
 Trust all to God, and soon 
 The darkness will disperse — the way be bright. 
 Let love fill all thy hours, leaving no room 
 For doubts. 
 
 Oh soul, know that God's ways are right 
 
Push forward ! 
 
 Let no past however dark, 
 Cast even one faint shadow on thy Now. 
 
 If thou has been an idler, then show how 
 A man can rise to higher things, and mark 
 Each day with earnestness, sincerity 
 And truth. 
 
 Oh, be sincere! Let every word 
 Come from thy soul's high source. 
 
 Be finn, and gird 
 Thy passions round until they iind in thee 
 A conqueror. 
 
 Shun evil ways and men. 
 And keep thy thoughts on high. Then there's no room 
 For doubt or sore discouragement to bloom 
 Within thy mind. 
 
 Aim high, and know that when 
 God loved and placed thee in His wondrous plan. 
 He meant thee for a noble, manly man. 
 
Just dare to think! To mould great thoughts. 
 And from thoughts mould thy soul. 
 
 Leave far behind conventional things, 
 And become sound and whole. 
 
 Oh, be thyself — thine own true self. 
 Not bound by laws and creeds; 
 
 But let the whisperings heard within. 
 Prompt all thy thoughts and deeds. 
 
 Be not afraid to stand alone, 
 With all the world apart; 
 
 If thy soul tells thee all is well. 
 And truth is in thy heart. 
 
iirmnrij lprs?a 
 
"Mother died today," the telegram said, 
 
 And I stared in blank dismay, 
 The letters swam, and then grew red. 
 
 But never a word could I say; 
 I looked again, they were letters of fire. 
 
 And were burning deep into my brain. 
 Could this be for me, this news black and dire? 
 
 Was I mad, or was I sane? 
 
 Dead, dead, my mother, whom I loved more than life, 
 
 Her hands folded over her breast; 
 Her eyes closed forever in this world of strife. 
 
 Gone, gone to her last long rest. 
 My mother, who, since the time of my birth 
 
 And my baby eyes could see, 
 Had, of all the people who dwell on earth. 
 
 Not one moment forgotten me. 
 
 I could not then reason that she had passed on. 
 
 But thoughts of the grave and its mold 
 And the cold, gloomy earth where she'd slumber so 
 long. 
 
 Was torture too great to be told. 
 I writhed and turned sick at thoughts of her bed; 
 
 And with shudder and shiver and groan, 
 I realized she soon to earth would be wed, 
 
 I thought of her body alone. 
 
I thought how the grass would soon grow o'er her head, \ti| 
 
 And cover that brown mound of clay; 
 How she now belonged to the throngs of the dead; 
 
 No tears did my anguish allay. 
 Then out of the past, where they'd hidden away. 
 
 Came ghosts of things I'd left undone; 
 All came trooping up in most ghastly array. 
 
 And grinned as they passed one by one. 
 
 They spoke of kind words I'd neglected to say, 
 
 Of harsh ones I often had said. 
 Which she would excuse, saying 'twas only my way — 
 
 Dear mother, and now she was dead. 
 Yes, gone from my life, and I was alone 
 
 E'er I was of danger aware. 
 For faults and mistakes I could never atone. 
 
 And I bowed low in grief and despair. 
 
Today I returned to the old, old home. 
 
 But it seems not home to me; 
 For mother, thy familiar face, 
 
 My eyes can no more see. 
 
 The voice I always loved so well. 
 
 That a warm welcome gave. 
 My ears, though strained, have failed to hear. 
 
 For it's silenced in the grave. 
 
 All things look as they did of old. 
 
 To the walls the ivy clings; 
 And in the grove where thou oft sat, 
 
 A bird in rapture sings. 
 
 The holly-hocks are all in bloom. 
 Their stems with flowers arrayed; 
 
 But the fingers that once plucked them, 
 Low in the grave are laid. 
 
Just as of old I try to seem. 
 
 And from signs of grief refrain; 
 
 But oh, I cannot help but feel 
 How things are not the same. 
 
 Thy presence haunts each nook and room. 
 
 It seems thou must be here, 
 And oh, my mother, I believe 
 
 Thy spirit's hovering near. 
 
 Oh, dost thou know how sick at heart 
 
 Is thy poor, lonely child? 
 How the thought that thou hast gone from her 
 
 Doth almost drive her wild? 
 
 Ah, little I dreamed, oh mother mine. 
 When we said our last good-bye. 
 
 That ere I returned to the old, old home, 
 Thine eyes would close for aye. 
 
 That instead of the dear and smiling face, 
 And heart so true and brave, 
 
 There'd only be to welcome me, 
 A lonely, new-made grave. 
 
Of all the sad recollechons 
 
 That are woven by memory's strands, 
 There are none so pathetic, 
 
 As memories of mother's hands. 
 
 The hands that were never idle. 
 From rising to setting sun. 
 
 To be calmly folded forever, 
 Their tasks forever done. 
 
 Those tasks of love and kindness. 
 That others leave undone, 
 
 Those hands were never weary 
 Of doing one by one. 
 
I can calmly think of her sleeping, 
 Of her spirit in heavenly lands; 
 
 But always my heart seems bursting. 
 If I think of her still, still hands. 
 
 The thought that those busy fingers. 
 Are mouldering into dusf. 
 
 Oft makes me tearfully wonder. 
 If God's ways can be just. 
 
O, sweet, sweet Estelle, 
 How my heart does rebel 
 At the loneliness now of this place; 
 For you meet me no more 
 When the dreary day's o'er, 
 And without thee life seems such a waste. 
 
 O, sweet, sweet Estelle, 
 No language can tell, 
 Or picture thy beauty so rare. 
 Fond, fond memories rise 
 At the thought of thine eyes 
 And thy tresses of reddish brown hair. 
 
 O, sweet, sweet Estelle, 
 Thou thy mission did wel 
 To inspire in me all that is best. 
 To remember thy smile 
 Doth all evil beguile, 
 And bring to my soul peace and rest. 
 
He was only a little, plain black dog, 
 And many called him "Bum;" 
 
 Ofttimes with cruel words and abuse. 
 His poor dumb heart was wrung. 
 
 He had a drawn, deformed foot, 
 Of his legs he could use but three; 
 
 His eyes had a wistful, pathetic look 
 That pleaded: "Have pity on me." 
 
 He wandered about from place to place. 
 It seemed he must always roam; 
 
 In the big, wide world there seemed to be 
 For him no friends, no home. 
 
 Sometimes to "the lobby of a big hotel 
 His weary steps would stray; 
 
 'Twas the only place he found on earth 
 Where he was not in the way. 
 
A girl with slender, crippled hands 
 And a painfully twisted knee, 
 
 Sat in the lobby of this hotel. 
 And happy she seemed to be. 
 
 Her face was patient and white and sweet, 
 
 Divinely she bore her woe; 
 And in her heart was a love for things, 
 
 That only afflicted know. 
 
 The little black dog hobbled in one day 
 In search of a friend was he; 
 
 He looked around — then stopped in front 
 Of the girl with the twisted knee. 
 
 He lifted up his great, brown eyes 
 And gazed into hers so blue; 
 
 His eyes as plainly as eyes could say: 
 "I love you, and feel for you." 
 
Then she stretched forth her crippled hand 
 And patted his sleek black head, 
 
 As she murmured: "I sympathize with you. 
 To misfortune we are wed. 
 
 "I know little dog how your heart aches, 
 For my own oft throbs with pain. 
 
 Henceforth an outcast you'll not be, 
 You've not searched a friend in vain.' 
 
 So the girl with slender, crippled hands 
 And the painfully twisted knee. 
 
 And the little dog with the drawn fool 
 Became best of friends, you see. 
 
You say I do not love you as I once did — 
 Pray tell me if the fault's not all your own. 
 
 You trampled on the affection that I gave you. 
 Now complain that you find it colder grown. 
 
 You say I do not love you as I once did — 
 
 True, once I thought that love my life would mar, 
 
 But now I know that wounds from love neglected. 
 Will slowly heal, and never leave a scar. 
 
 Ah no, I do not love you as I once did — 
 I simply must acknowledge it is true; 
 
 But it has ever been a woman's privilege. 
 
 To change the old, luke-warm love, for the new. 
 
Her features were straight and faultless, 
 And she was so wondrously fair, 
 
 That she looked like a rare old picture. 
 As I saw her standing there. 
 
 The shadow prophetic of sorrow 
 That lingered in her eyes, 
 
 But made her the more angelic, 
 A creature for paradise. 
 
 Years have passed since I saw that picture. 
 And my heart's blood drips today; 
 
 For my love brought her pain and sorrow. 
 Ere she went on her lonely way. 
 
When everything seems dead against you, 
 And deep water seems all around, 
 
 Though it close o'er your head for a moment, 
 Be buoyant — come up with a bound. 
 
 Of course, if you don't make a struggle. 
 You'll sink, then go floating down stream, 
 
 But try — and you'll reach the bank safely. 
 Succeeding by trying, I ween. 
 
 It is well to be cast in deep water. 
 Just so you can learn how to swim; 
 
 And if you are strong and deserving, 
 A spirit will whisper within — 
 
 "Be game; just keep on a-battling, 
 And things will at last come around; 
 
 For fate reserves all its best prizes. 
 
 For those who can learn Kow to bound." 
 
Good-bye, a little word, 
 
 Yet 'tis spoken with regret; 
 
 For brighter far my days 
 
 Have been, since first we met 
 
 I have learned to feel and drink 
 The light within your eye, 
 
 Until 'tis hard, so hard, 
 
 To say — good-bye, good-bye. 
 
 I know that friends will come. 
 And other hearts draw near. 
 
 But you I'll ne'er forget. 
 
 Or your gentle smile of cheer. 
 
Why did we meet to part? 
 
 We are ever asking why, 
 When all our hearts may know 
 
 Is, too oft we say good-bye. 
 
 Alas, so we must part. 
 To meet again I ween. 
 
 So we won't say good-bye. 
 But "Auf-auf wiedersehen 
 
There lives a man who is worldly wise, 
 The greed of gain shines in his eyes; 
 There is always a frown upon his face, 
 He seems to live to curse his race. 
 A harsh word he ne'er fails to say. 
 Nor for the erring smooth the way. 
 He'd have his fellows crouch with fear 
 When he — this mighty man draws near; 
 For his back to turn they only wait. 
 To pour forth all their boiling hate. 
 His life's a seething discontent; 
 The almighty dollar is his bent. 
 
 The other's not so worldly wise. 
 
 But God's own love shines from his eyes; 
 
 A halo of kindness surrounds his face; 
 
 He lives, a blessing to his race. 
 
 A kind act he ne'er fails to do. 
 
 Nor from black sin the erring woo. 
 
 When he speaks there's nothing shrinks with fear. 
 
 Even animals unto him draw near; 
 
 At his feet they fondle, and lick his hand, 
 
 As if it held a magic wand. 
 
 It does — the magic wand of love, 
 
 God's best of gifts sent from above. 
 
I wonder so often when near thee, 
 What causes this wonderful spell, 
 
 That lifteth men's thoughts ever upward, 
 Far, far from the regions of hell. 
 
 It is not that thy features are faultless, 
 Or thy eyes so dazzingly blue^ 
 
 That thy tresses so silken, abundant. 
 Have all of the sunshine's glad hue. 
 
 It is not that thy voice is like music, 
 Or thy smile ever cheerful and sweet. 
 
 Or even thy angel-like patience 
 
 That weaves this strange spell so complete. 
 
 'Tis the pure, perfect soul of the woman. 
 Shining out from thy deep, saint-like eyes. 
 
 That maketh men long to be near thee. 
 And feel that they grow heaven wise. 
 
I long for the depths of the wood, 
 
 Where God speaketh out in each sound. 
 
 I'd flee far from life if I could, 
 
 Where silence would wrap me around. 
 
 O, to leave all the fair haunts of man, 
 With their hurry and worry and strife; 
 
 To live as near God as I can, 
 And not with emotions run rife. 
 
 To forget all the woes of the world. 
 Its misery and envy and sin; 
 
 And thus with my soul powers unfurl'd, 
 To hearken to voices within. 
 
 Communion with nature I'd hold. 
 
 With ear keenly tuned to each word. 
 
 Close, close in my heart I'd enfold. 
 What is only in solitude heard. 
 
You always say that I'm trifling with you, 
 That my friendship is not sincere. 
 
 I'd like to wager on your heart and mine, 
 At the end of this grand New Year. 
 
 My lips will smile, my eyes grow soft, 
 And my cheeks light up with a glow. 
 
 If by any chance some one should speak 
 Of our dear, dead long ago. 
 
 And if perchance some one said to you: 
 "For that girl have you ever pined?" 
 
 You would shrug your shoulders and carelessly say; 
 "Out of sight is out of mind." 
 
She had but weak and trembling arms, 
 
 Her face from pain was while; 
 But she had a soul that reached my heart. 
 
 And led me to the light. 
 She made me feel that life is real, 
 
 Not just an idle play; 
 And when my steps were faltering, 
 
 She'd point to me the way. 
 
 Her voice was but a weakened voice, 
 
 But oh, it told of heaven. 
 With power and clearness that I think 
 
 To only the frail is given. 
 Through her I found that I could aid 
 
 God in His mighty plan. 
 By using soul and heart and brain, 
 
 She made of me — a man! 
 
I know thy faults are many, dear, but then 
 Are they not faults that are common to all men? 
 And should I censure thee, and bid thee go. 
 Expecting sweet perfection here below? 
 
 Ah, if thy faults were ten-fold multiplied, 
 My pardon to thee would not be denied; 
 Knowing my love would freely pardon thee, 
 I shrink appalled at God's great love for me. 
 
So I am to see thy face again 
 
 My friend; 
 To hear once more thy calm 
 
 And quiet voice; 
 Once more ihy serene presence 
 
 Is to lend 
 Sunshine to my life and 
 
 Make my heart rejoice. 
 
 Oh, hasten, for it seems 
 
 So long to wait; 
 The hours will seem as days — 
 
 The days as years; 
 Each moment that must intervene 
 
 I hate; 
 For I'm impatient 
 
 As thy coming nears. 
 
Don't go about with a face all acloud. 
 
 And looking that blue and glum, 
 That when you call on your very best friends, 
 
 They wish you had not come. 
 Remember this world is full of woe. 
 
 That he with a smiling face 
 Is sure of a welcome where're he may go, 
 
 For he blesses and helps his race. 
 
 Resolve to be noble and helpful and strong. 
 
 And make a desperate endeavor, 
 To help God's weary children along 
 
 In cloudy as well as fair weather. 
 Brace up! and put on a cheerful face. 
 
 And you'll learn ere far you go. 
 That you need not die to reap heaven's rewards. 
 
 But can find them here below. 
 
As I limped down the street today, 
 
 I couldn't but plainly see, 
 That many who were once my friends. 
 
 Didn't even look at me. 
 
 At first I could not understand, 
 Then the truth came home to me; 
 
 That God's poor and afflicted child 
 They were ashamed to see. 
 
 I smiled with contempt at these poor fools 
 And felt thankful just the same, 
 
 Far better use a crutch for life, 
 Than be crippled in the brain. 
 
O, lell me not my faith is small. 
 And doubt that I am true; 
 
 For it crushes out the light and joy, 
 Of a heart that beats for you. 
 
 Say not that other's words could swerve 
 My friendship true and strong; 
 
 That I'd believe aught they might say. 
 And hold you in the wrong. 
 
 For you alone can shake my faith, 
 Or make my heart grow cold. 
 
 In such a case, perhaps, I might 
 Turn to another's gold. 
 
Ah, you round-faced, dimpled elf, 
 With your eyes of heaven's blue; 
 And your heavy silken locks, 
 That have caught the sunshine's hue, 
 And your lisping baby tongue 
 That would win a soul, astray; 
 Nothing in the world's so sweet 
 As our darling baby's way. 
 
 Who would not in heaven believe. 
 As they feel your clinging arms; 
 
 And the pressure of your kiss 
 
 Through their very being warms? 
 Oh, you little dancing rogue. 
 It is well they named you Pearl; 
 
 For there's nothing half so pure 
 
 As our darling baby girl. 
 
To the Reformed 
 
 Just as the mind, so is the soul. 
 
 So keep thy mind so white and pure 
 That thy soul can wing an ufvward flight. 
 
 And reach a height that will endure. 
 
 Let not thy mind go trailing back 
 To resurrect an unchaste thing 
 
 Such tarnish and pollute the soul, 
 And only desecrations bring. 
 
 To know the God-life, is to live. 
 
 No other is, or can be wel 
 And if thou idle steps retrace, 
 
 Thou'll mire in seething, fiery hell. 
 
 Let not thy tongue put forth one word. 
 That will not help thy soul to rise; 
 
 And lift thee far o'er sensual things 
 To become wise, divinely wise. 
 
'Tis strange how people talk to me. 
 They laugh, and say I'm insane, 
 
 Because I've gone to writing rhymes 
 And jingles without name. 
 
 Real poems I hoped that they might be, 
 As they came from deep, soul thought; 
 
 But they are jingles, the majority say. 
 And are ready to call them "rot." 
 
 'Tis not the verdict that comes to me 
 From the people who can think; 
 
 They tell me I've written worthy lines, 
 And believe I'm on Fame's brink. 
 
 They say that the chosen children of God 
 
 Are always stood in a row, 
 At the head of which comes that gifted man, 
 
 Poor Edgar Allen Poe. 
 
And then Columbus was thought insane, 
 Even children at him smiled. 
 
 But later on, because of his deeds. 
 The whole of Spain went wild. 
 
 ?^< 
 
 And so it has been since time began 
 With any new thought or regime; 
 
 The people frown and laugh and scoff, 
 Making genius a lunatic seem. 
 
 So I care not for the scornful laugh 
 Of the people who cannot do 
 
 For the lack of brains, what comes to me. 
 But hope I'm a lunatic too. 
 
The ring is round, and has no end, 
 
 Just as my love for thee; 
 The anchor doth hope's message send 
 
 Thai thou art true to m^. 
 
 The pearls are white and very pure, 
 
 As we must ever be. 
 The gold is precious, 'twill endure 
 
 Jusl as my faith in thee. 
 
 (Lines written on receiving a token of friendship in 
 the shape of an anchor set with pearls framed in a 
 gold ring.) • 
 
S^ragmttttH 
 
Far, far upon the mountain top 
 'Tis lonely, ah, and chil 
 
 And the height is only reached 
 By indomitable will. 
 
 But they only know the heartaches, 
 Who ascend the rugged steep, 
 
 Then they often look on those below, 
 With hearts to full to weep. 
 
Until your differences 
 
 Make you grow. 
 Until criticisms 
 
 Most welcome be, 
 And sound like kind advice, 
 
 Just know 
 That never ties of friendship true 
 Can bind your hearts 
 
 And make them glow. 
 
Last eve I gave you 
 
 A red rose 
 
 My great heart's love 
 
 To prove. 
 
 For if it were not wrong, dear, 
 
 Earth and heaven it would move. 
 
 Today I bring you 
 
 A white rose 
 To assure you 
 
 That this love 
 Is as pure as that of angels. 
 Who dwell in the world above. 
 
Lay solidly the foundations 
 For thy future, 
 
 With cornerstones of faith, 
 
 Pure and sublime. 
 Then rear its walls of charity, 
 Love and patience, 
 
 And all God's choicest blessings 
 
 Will be thine. 
 
While working out this scheme of things, 
 
 God discontented grew; 
 There was so much of commonplace 
 
 Some nobler thing He'd do. 
 He paused awhile in serious thought, 
 
 Then lovingly made you. 
 
Conclusions 
 
 The sweetest singers are imprisoned birds, 
 Most loving hearts oft saddest; 
 
 From chastened souls come noblest words. 
 Unselfish loves are maddest. 
 
A Little Space With Thee 
 
 If blessings and riches and fame, this world 
 Was waiting to shower on me, 
 
 All I would ask, all I would crave, 
 Would be a little space with thee. 
 
 For this world's vanities I would not care. 
 If I could only have thy heart, 
 
 No glow of fame could compensate 
 For that little space apart. 
 

 AY 
 
 
 
 
 J. 
 
 ,,„,p. -»^J 
 
 
 ■■*■/•■.,,