LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. %p.- ^mm¥ fij*;^-- UNITED STATES OF AMEEIflA. -- 19,^< IN THP. GOLD From Gold to Grey. Poems and Pictures of Life and Nahtre. BY y^ Mrs. Mary d/brine, AUTHOR OF "mother's SONGS," " GRANDMA'S ATTIC TREASURES," " PAPA'S LITTLE DAUGHTERS,' "FOUR LITTLE FRIENDS," "HITHER AND THITHER," ETC. ALLAN BARRAUD, W. H. J. BOOT, E. F. BREWTNALL, R.W.S., FRANK DADD, R.L, M. ELLEN EDWARDS, W. BISCOMBE GARDNER, ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. GIACOMELLL MARY L. GOW, R.I., W. HATHERELL, ALICE H.^VERS, DAVIDSON KNOWLES, E. BLAIR LEIGHTON, J. NASH, W. H. OVEREND, H. M. PAGET, WILLIAM SMALL, G. L. SEYMOUR, A. STOCKS, R.L 'cOP5f«iG/i'^ Grandpa and his " Dear " •• 52> 53 ' ' Forjesits' Sake, Amen / " ■• 54.55 The New Lesson ■■ 56. 57 The Brook's Last Song ... ■■ 58, 59 The Three Kitties 60 Waiting for ^' Mother" 61 My Margaret ! • 62, 63 My Ship — my Captain .. 64, 6s Primrose Time ... .. 66, 67 Th anksg iving Day .. 68, 69 The Sweet June Time 70, 71 Spring-time 72. 73 My Boyhood's Home ■■ 74, 75 The Song of the Sportsman •• 76, 77 The Noon Recess .. .. 78,79 At the Twilight Hour .. 80, 81 In the Park 82 Why the Daisies are White 83 My April Love .. 84, 85 Out on the Sands .. 86, 87 The Old Barn 88 The Water-Lily's Story 59 \ Butterflies ( ^0 \^ Desalate! 91 A Love's Contradictions ... Q2, 93 ,^ r\- \V w: XI ^^ FROM GOLD TO GREY. '^p'fs fei 0i)ter)is — [contimted). Two 94, 95 e Barren Tree 96,97 pie Blossoms ... 9S ster Lilies 99 ■ Bonnie Laddie 100, lOI \ci Well Enough Alone " 102, 103 it ty Phyllis 104, 105 The Test of the Daisy Leaves 106, 107 Twilight on the Beach 108, 109 The Matin Bells no The Ataakening Ill 7'he Trysting Hour 112, 113 The Cascades "4, "S The Sower 116, 117 The Harvest Sheaf 118 At Eventide 119 The Fresh Air Fund ... 120, 121 ''''Heaviness Endureth but for a Ntght, Joy Cometh in the Morn ng" ... 122 The L iving Spring 123 The Four- Leaf Clover .. Going After the Cows . . CONTENTS. FROM GOLD TO GREY. '>y*^\^'' From Gold to Grey. JUTS morning's glory gilds the sky, ^ And merrily the hours go by Towards noon, whose radiance sheds its glow From heaven's dome o'er all below ; As softly towards the set of sun The shadows gather one by one, To lie, at last, all tenderly And lovingly o'er land and sea ; So do life's days — from Go/d to Grey — Glide, 'neath life's changing skies, away From joy to sorrow ; smiles to tears ; From peace to turmoil ; hopes to fears : And back again (as wakes the dawn, From Grey to Gold, when night is gone), To taste of joys new-born again ; Perchance to fade once more in pain. Ah ! whatsoe'er our days may hold Of joy or sorrow. Grey or Gold, Counting our blessings one by one From dawn until the set of sun. We're sure to find more Gold than Grey To light our journey o'er the way. FROM GOLD TO GREY. Qatherinq Flowers ijm JVIay ^piTELCOME, welcome, beautiful May ! ^«{^ Welcome thou, and thy garlands gay ! The earth is glad with thy sunny smile, And sweet with the breath of new-mown hay. Lavish of all thy glory, thou : See ! thou hast flung thy treasures down Till the earth is gay in her new-found wealth, And jubilant in her floral crown. Fairer thou art, oh. beautiful May ! Than even thy sister, whose reign is o'er, The blue-eyed April, who wept and smiled, And softened the earth so cold before. She sang of thee, and our hearts were glad With thoughts of the joys sweet May would bring ; We longed for thee and thy merry hours, Oh, thou most beautiful month of spring ! There are sounds of pleasure o'er all the earth ; There are sweet birds singing in bush and tree ; There are laughing voices, and songs of mirth, And joyous faces to welcome thee. There are busy fingers in every field Plucking thy treasures rich and rare ; Oh, May ! so lovingly bountiful. Welcomes must greet thee everywhere. GATHERING FLOU'ERS IN MAY. FROM GOLD TO GREY. The merry birds on twig and branch Trill out the news with fluttering wings, While Robin seeks the early fruit, Impatient watching the green shoots And the glad tidings gaily sings. The brook, grown weary of restraint. Has burst its weakened bonds at last, And rushing down the mountain side. Lends its fresh influence far and wide, And Winter's icy reign is past ! AFTER THE SHOWER. ftFTEF( THE ShOWEF(. *7|Jf TENDER sky— half tears, half smiles ; a sobbing breeze ; green meadows where j^[ A thousand diamonds glittering lie ; and in the soft, sweet summer air The fragrance of reviving flowers, which lift their drooping heads again. And the sweet scent of woodland ferns — after the welcome summer rain. From every bush, and shrub, and tree, the quivering raindrops hang and fall ; And twittering birds their wet wings shake, and plume themselves afresh, and call Each other from the woodland groves ; while the glad earth grows bright again, And sunshine floods the landscape o'er — after the welcome summer rain. With sense of life renewed and fresh, the world seems' fairer in our eyes. And Nature, jubilant and new, smiles 'neath the light of joyous skies. Back to the fields the farmer goes, and toil suspended, once again Goes on, with vigor twice renewed — after the welcome summer rain. FROM GOLD TO GREY. FHOM GOLD TO GREY. CUPID'S " HA K VEST" FROM GOLD TO GREY. What hap Becojvie of the Beautiful Day? ^pTHAT has become of the beautiful day? Where have its bright hours gone ? It seems but a moment since, rosy and gay, The glad summer morning was born. And now the soft shadows of evening are here ; The day slips away, and the night cometh near. How have the glad moments gone, do we ask ? What has become of our day ? Ask the warm sunshine, whose golden rays fell And stole the bright hours away. Ask the soft clouds that far up in the sky Helped the dear hours so lazily by. Go ask the birds in the stately old elms, Who sang away the sweet hours. Look for the bees, and perchance they will tell Who idled the day 'mongst the flowers. And what say the leaves of the grand forest trees, Which have whispered and frolicked all day with the: breeze Oh ! who can tell how the bright day has gone ? 'Midst sunshine, and shadow, and play, 'Midst humming of bees, and the singing of birds, Hath vanished the beautiful day. But the peace, and the joy which it gave to my heart Thro' clouds and thro' sunshine shall never depart. THE EVENING REST. FROM GOLD TO GREY. But brown-eyed Nora — ah ' ^.f^^^'^v my heart Ran mad with joy when \ i^ she came near. Of this and that ere long we talked, Till Nora, in a sober fit, On " Reaping that which we have sown," Began to moralize a bit THE HARVEST TIME. FROM GOLD TO GREY. A RECIPE FOR SUMMER. FROM GOLD TO GREY. YESTERDA Y—TO-DA Y. I'ROM GOLD TO GREY. Old Kinq Winter'^ 3oNq. ek H, I am the friend of the girls and boys ! ' I am the friend they love When there's plenty of frost on the earth below. And plenty of sunshine above ! To me they look for the frozen pond. All ready for skate and slide ; To me they turn with their painted sleds For a coasting hill so wide. 1 1 I I ill 1 iji II 1 fir and near, When the bells are ringing a chime Of the merriest music in all the world, As a tribute to winter time. If I kiss the cheeks of the lasses, so That they tingle awhile, what then? I must have my share of the fun before The summer shall come again. I deck the trees with a fringe so bright That they glisten in sun or shade ; And I scatter my snowflakes in the air Till they fill each valley and glade. And climbing up to the mountain-top. Each shrub and tree I crown. And I spread the whitest of covers o'er The ground so barren and brown. I'm hoary-headed and old, I know, But the boys don't care for that ; They're glad to welcome the jolly old king Who wears the snow-brimmed hat. For I am the friend of the young and strong. And a merry old soul am I, When there's plenty of frost on the ground below, And over it all blue sky. OLD KING WINTERS SONG. \»t> -y FROM GOLD TO GREY. MARGUERITE FROM GOLD TO GREY. UjMRE^T. WLL winter long the snow has lain, Like the wings of a brooding dove, Over the spot where baby lies ; And they chide the tears in my longing eyes, And whisper, " She doubts God's love." Is it because I doubt ? Ah, no ! But only a mother's heart Can measure the depths of a mother's grief, Or welcome the tears that bring relief, Tho' they may not heal the smart. >=^ ^ They point above, and talk to me Of the beautiful city there, Where many a freed soul finds its rest Nestling close on the Saviour's breast, For ever free from care. But there are so many within His arms ! And mine are so. empty now ! My baby is wearing a crown, I know, But she wore the crown of my love below. With my kisses on her brow. UNHEST. But, oh ! do you think my little child, As she entered the " golden gate," There knew her father who long ago Went away from his home below For us to watch ind wait' I placed a kiss on my bab) s lips Before the angels came To send a messi^e to hmi I tried And she, our little one, smiled and died Lisping her father s name And I — I sit with my empty arms, And empty, desolate heart : I may have needed the chastening rod. For life was too bright a thing ; but God Has taken the brightest part, \nd naught but shadow for me remains ; And yet — and yet, I know That both my treasures, so far abo\-e. Will plead with Him, in His wondrous love, To light my path below. FROM GOLD TO GREY. A 3UMJVIER AfTEI^NOOJM. DAISIED meadow lying fair under a summer sliy ; ''— Sweet ferns and grasses bowing low to the zephyrs hurrying by ; Over the woodland hangs the mist of the recent summer shower, And the bees and butterflies idly flit through every wayside flower. ;iv KJ. V Over the quiet fields I come, watching with dreamful eyes. , „'5|r j'^ The clouds that fleecily, lightly sail over the tender skies. Watching the swallows stretch their wings in the wonderful And my heart soars up with a thankful prayer for the Father's beautiful love. The lobm sits on the maple bough, singing his mate a song, \\ hile little by little the day declines, and the shadows are growing long ; And down the lane the cattle stray, cropping the tender grass. While, swinging her sun-bonnet in her hand, follows the farmer's lass. I hear the ring of the scythe and hone in the fields not far away, And the merry hum of the mower's song, as he makes his fragrant hay. Oh, day so fair from the Maker's hand ! oh, skies so soft and blue ! Can thoughts be other than true and good when born from such as you ? A Sr.V.VEA' AFTERNOON. 36 FROAI GOLD TO GREY. At the SEAgOf^ OF THANKSGIVIfjq ^H! Charity, dear messenger, From heaven's courts descend, And to our earth-born hearts the gift Of thy sweet influence lend. Touch and arouse the slumbering eyes Which do not wake to see How other eyes grow dim with tears, And hearts droop wearily. Remind us, whom a Father's grace Hath blessed with many a gift, That there are those whom we may help From sorrow's gloom to lift. Quicken our sympathy, our love ; Our mercies let us share ; AT THE SEASON OF THANKSGIVING. Let the glad sunshine of our hves Spread o'er sad lives of care. Sweet Charity, we will not close Our ears to thy soft voice ; For every impulse born of thee Must make some heart rejoice. Then come, come quickly. Charity ! And all throughout our land On waiting hearts, or cold or warm, Lay thine own blessed hand. And may the Lord, who ever heeds And marks the sparrow's fall. Help us to know, •whate'er our deeds He sees and marks them. all. By day and night, thro' storm and shine, Whate'er our lives may be, God grant these gifts of His delight — Faith, Hope, and Charity! FROM GOLD TO GREY. ■*i- -ri" ii '" ^&^^^$^^^^^^^^^ -^^- THE OLD FOOTPATH. The Old Foot- path. ^H, dear old footpath! day by day You lie 'neath skies or blue or grey ; Across the meadow 'neath the hill, Where shadows come and go at will. Safe home from distant lands once more, My busy memory travels o'er Long years of mingled joy and ptui. And takes me back to youth again. Just there beneath yon linden tree My little sweetheart watched for me, To greet me with her tell-tale face, Where love had marked its own sweet trace. I wonder where that dainty maid Thro' all these years gone by has strayed ; Or did some new swain's eager feet A pathway make o'er grasses sweet. And bend the nodding daisies low, Whilst two walked slowly to and fro? And, oh ! old path, none ever knew The lovers' secrets trusted you. Well, Time has many changes rung Since my young lips its praises ■ sung ; But all unchanged, old friend, are you To whom my memory still is true. Your rugged breast is scarred each day By careless feet which o'er you stray, And many a hidden foot-print lies Unnoticed 'neath the changing skies. Feet that once trod you, now at last For ever rest — their journey past. And who may know, old path, if e'er My feet again shall tread you here .' FROM GOLD TO GREY. A Ha;rtAN any one say what fun there is In the thoughtless use of a gun, Which takes its aim at an innocent hfe, And, lo ! that hfe is done ? The merry, happy, warbling birds, The' roguish they may be, The song they sing is pleasanter far Than the bang of a gun — to me. " When I was a boy," said Grandpa Gray, " I thought, ' Now, like a man, I'll take my gun to the fields, and bag As many birds as I can.' " So off I Avent, and I banged away. With no thought of the pain I gave, Till I presently met a sweet young miss Trying one bird to save. It had fallen near with a wounded wing. And the look in her face so sad Went straight to my heart, and I felt ashamed Of myself for a heartless lad. " Well, after that, I never could aim At an innocent bird again. But — I took to hunting after the deer And I did not hunt in vain ; GRANDPA AND HIS "DEAR." FROM GOLD TO GREY. '■FOR JESUS' SAKE, AMEN! FROM GOLD TO GREY. 11, "f.'^' i \ Sff ^^ i'""'riii|||,il i,'''i';, THE NEW LESSON The Kew IhEs^o C^O you're learning a lesson, maiden fair, — ' Tho' a schoolgirl never more : Learning a lesson with all your heart That you never have learned before. The sunljeams herald the gladsome day. And over the world they dance and play, While you are conning with heart so gay Your sweet new " lesson " o'er. You are " somebody's queen ; fair, gracious, sweet ! " You know — for that letter at rest, Safe hidden from curious eyes, my dear, 'Neath the folds on your gentle breast, Has over and over in every line Told you that story — oh ! maiden mine — And the reading has filled your eyes with the shine Of your own love half confessed. Many a lesson you've learned, dear child, In the schoolgirl days gone by ; And some were easy, and some were hard. Bringing a frown and sigh. But, oh, to be learning a lesson like this ! When studying it brings such a measure of bliss ! And the learning — is helped by a lover's kiss: It is pleasure that never can die. As the morning heralds the full, bright day. You stand with your hopes and fears On the very thieshold of womanhood. Crowned with your nineteen years ; Which have gathered you laurels, one by one. Till the days of your childish plans are done. And the work of your womanhood scarce begun. Either for smiles or tears. So keep your secret, 'tis all your own. But the smile that dimples your cheek. And the happy light in your eyes, betray What your lips refuse to speak. And the sun shall gleam, and glimmer, and play Over the waters, and far away. And then — at the close of a happy day Some one his answer will seek. FROM GOLD TO GREY. The Bi^ook's IhAPT 3ojmq. WHE brook goes gently murmuring On its accustomed way, Thro' meadow grasses singing, Thro' forests old and gray ; But its song seems strangely dreary On this October day. " Oh ! fragrant grasses bending To kiss me as I go. Well may my heart be dreary, Well may my song be low. And each succeeding ripple Be noiseless in its flow. THE BROOK'S LAST SONG. " For day by day my pulses Must yet more slowly beat, Till comes a time — oh, daisies ! When never more shall meet Your fragrant lips my waters In kisses soft and sweet. " Oh ! lovers who have lingered Full many a time with me To talk your foolish nonsense With lo\ers' harmony. But yet a little longer Your servant I can be ! " For know you not, the hour Comes near when winter's kmg Shall freeze my lips in silence With icy covering ? And I shall die in sorrow, Crushed 'neath his cold, white wmg And slowly, yet more sternly. The brook goes on its way Thro' ferns and drooping grasses, And thro' the forests gray. And its song is yet more ^^ feeble — More plaintive day by day. --'--i-..;''^ FROM GOLD TO GREY. NE was fair as fair could be, The others black — {she thought them pretty) ; And I — of only one I dreamed, And she — she was — the other Kitty. She loved the others, I loved her, And full of mischief were the three ; But, ah ! at last kind fate contrived To give the winning card to me With blue eyes closed, and head thrown back, Within the easy chair sat Kitty. Thought I, " If now a pair of gloves I may not win, 'twill be a pity." And as I softly reached her side, The red lips parted with a murmur. And, oh, what joy ! she breathed my name ! Within my heart hope grew still firmer. "Dost love me, Kitty?" whispered I ; And soft in sleep came back her answer I love thee not ! " I stood aghast. Till love urged, " Kiss her while you can, sir." But, ah ! the blue eyes swift unclosed. And glanced at me with mirth o'erflowing ; Thought I, " I'll let her think awhile That I've heard something worth the knowing." Then drawing near, I slily said, " Fair maid, your dreams have well betrayed you." " For shame ! " cried she, " to steal my thoughts. And get my slumbering tongue to aid you ! " All penitent, I humbly said, " But, ah ! the secret in my keeping Has made me sad." Then murmured she, " One never tells the truth while sleeping ! " WAITING FOR ''MOTHER' w» • x^ll Waitijmq for "]V1other"S; ^ HE old man sits in liis easy chair Wf, Slumbering the moments away, Dreaming a tlream that is all his own On this gladsome Christmas day. His children have gathered from far and near, His children's children beside, And merry voices are echoing through The " Homestead's" halls so wide. "% ,.v But far away in the years long flown, Grandfather lives again ; And his heart forgets that it ever knew A shadow of grief or pain. For he sees his wife as he saw her then, A matron, comely and fair. With her children gathered around his board. And never a vacant chair. Oh ! happy dream of the " Auld lang syne," Of the years long slipped away ; And the old man's lips have gathered a smile. And his heart grows young and gay. But a kiss falls gently upon his brow From his daughter's lips so true : " Dinner is ready, father, dear ; We are only waiting for you." The old man wakes at his daughter's call And looks at the table near : "There's one of us missing, my child," he says ; "Call mot/icr—ihc is not here ! " There are tears in the eyes of the children then. As they gaze on the empty chair ; For many a lonely year has passeil .Since " Mother " sat with them there. But the old man pleads still wistfully, " We tiiusi wait /or mother, you know ! " So they let him rest in his old armchair Till at last the sun sinks low. Then, leaving a smile for his children here. He turns from the earth away. And has gone to " Mother" beyond the skies, With the close of the Christmas day. ^1 -^ '#'^^P L^?^ FROM GOLD TO GREY. JVIy JVIaf^qaf^et ! ■'^^Y Margaret, would that I could be '*=^' The breeze which softly kisses thee ; Or else those sunbeams, warm and bright, Which crown thy head with golden light." "The breeze," she answered, ''dies away, And sunbeams fade with close of day." " Then if I were those flowers fair Which thou, dear girl, art carrying there. To wear perchance upon thy breast — Oh happy flowers, so loved, so blest ! " " The flowers fair must fade," said she ; " Then I shall cast them off from me ! " " Well, let me then thy true love be. Winning thine every thought for me ; I'll envy not the breeze or flower. Nor e'en the sunshine's golden dower.' " Ah, love I cannot cast away. But hold for ever, night and day ! " MY MARGARET! 64 FROM GOLD TO GREY. JVIy Ship — my Capt/iIn. 'Vf SAID in the gladness of my heart — ~ Only a little while ago — " A ship is hastening home from sea, And her bonny captain is thinking of me, And fast the good winds blow ! " So I watched the waves, and I watched the clouds, Wandering down by the shore each day. Till I longed for the sea-gulls' wings, that I Over the billows swift might fly To meet my love half-way. Last night they whispered the ship had come— My ship that was sailing over the sea ; And now in the morning's ruddy glow They show me a ship that is lying low ; But what is that to me? My ship was strong, and her crew were brave. Her captain — ah ! — was my captain too. And he promised to meet me safely here Some day when the sea and sky were clear. And when was his word untrue? But this ? — why, this is a battered thing. And her crew, they tell me, are lost and dead ! My captain had always a kiss for me When he came before from over the sea ; But there, 'neath yonder shed, MY SHIP— MY CAPTAIN. Lies one with a face so white and still! And lips that never a word will speak ; And they say— alas ! but I know— I know My sailor would never lie silent so, With my tears upon his cheek Oh ! let me thmk that my ship will come, So long I've waited, it must not be That //lis is the way— so fast— too fast— My ship, storm-driven, and wrecked at last, Came over the waves to me ! FROM GOLD TO GREY. Primf^o^e Time. ipCOME May, sweet May, with all thy bloom, ^=* Thy fragrant breezes, azure skies. Come quickly to the waiting earth. And bid its hidden treasures rise. Give us again the song of birds. The scent of blossoms on the air, The rustle of the growing grass, The dainty primrose, sweet and fair. Oh ! there are hearts that long to feel Thy soft caress on cheek and brow ; Hearts grieving, that would fain be glad ; Come then, dear May, and teach them how, Come, tell us of thy sister June, What gifts from her shall follow thine ? Ah ! roses red she wears for crown ; Bright May, thy primrose shall be mine. PR/MROSE TIME. FROM GOLD TO GREY. THANKSGIVING DAY. 69 70 FROM GOLD TO GREY. THE SWEET JUNE TIME. Come, little folks— the fields and bnes Are lonely now without you ! The birds are all in tune to sing Their sweetest songs about you. The old barn doors stand open wide, The brooks with fish are teeming ; And over hill, and dale, and lake, Dame Nature's smiles are beaming Come, one and all, from tar and near, And sound the summer's praises. Whilst racing through the clover fields, And nestling 'mid the daisies. Make wreaths of roses crimson-red. Your bright young heads adorning. For summer-time was made for you, And June is summer's morning ! FROM GOLD TO GREY. ifT means a glad up-springing of all things sweet and fair, ^ Soft meadows, daisy-sprinkled, and blossom-scented air, It means the song of brooklets where ferns and grasses grow ; It means the budding tree-tops, 'round which soft zephyrs blow. It means a sky as tender and blue as baby-eyes. Where scarce a shadow passes, and scarce a sorrow lies ; It means the hastening homeward of winter-banished birds. And the roving, welcome freedom of long-housed flocks and herds. It means the soft unfolding of wild rose bud and bloom, Of vines that yield their fragrance the mild breeze to perfume ; It means the wayside glory that meets our grateful eyes. When on each hedge and pathway some new-born beauty lies. % SPRING- TIME. 73 74 FROM GOLD TO GREY. JVIy Boyhood'p Home. EO near the scene of my boyhood's home ! — Ah ! were I still but the merry boy Whose careless life on the dear old spot Was ever content and full of joy ! There I roamed at will o'er the meadows green, And stood at a tender mother's knee, And played with the brother whose fresh young heart Was big with the love it held for me. How oft I think of the dear old days When we came together, dear Will and I, To watch the shadows reflected here From the fleecy clouds of a summer sky ! How well he loved the fisherman's life That lay before us — the fisherman's boys ! And how he grieved when I left our home To taste of other and distant joys! Ah ! years have fled since that happy time, And I am a man now, old and grey ; And mother, and father, and many friends Have long since passed from the earth away. My face is scarred with the toils of life, I've known temptations, and fought them through ; And vi'ho shall say that the victories gained Have not to the dear old home been due? There's never a life but soon or late The tempter's power must feel and know. And happy that heart which takes its strength From the truths it learned in the "long ago." Oh, dear-loved scene of my boyhood's home 1 I bare my head in honour of thee ; And I know that, wanderer tho' I am, 3^^=^_ My brother a welcome will have for me !: A/V BOYHOODS HOME. 76 FROM GOLD TO GREY. The $onq of the $P0RTpMy4>N. Y ET who will sing of summer with its skies so soft and blue, To the merry, brown old autumn the sportsman's heart is true ; Then we listen to the crack of our rifles sharp and clear, And we bag onr game all quickly with a ringing shout and cheer. Oh ! the hill-side, it is golden ; and like the sunlit seas Are the fields of yellow corn as they rustle in the breeze ; And the river gleams like silver beneath the autumn sky. And o'er its rippling bosom, see ! the wild ducks flap and fly. From the gorgeous-hued old forest comes the pipe of many a bird. And the marshes with the rustle of the shy reed-birds are stirred. And heavily come homeward the laden harvest wains, And the farmer's heart is merry as he views his harvest gains. THE SONG OF THE SPORTSMAN. Oh ! there's much to say good-bye to when summer goes away — The sweet, soft time of summer, that cannot always stay ; But there's much, so much to welcome with the ripe September days. And the earth grows fuller — richer in October's golden haze. Then, ho ! brothers, let us sing of the days to us so dear ; Let us say good-bye to summer, let us welcome autumn here. Bring your rifles and your pouches, and to the lake-side hie. For there's game upon the wing, my lads, and sunshine in the sky ! 78 FROM GOLD TO GREY. aiSBi The l\fooN T^ECE^p, /^H ! how the merry laugh and shout Of happy little folks ring out Upon the soft and balmy air, Sending sweet echoes everywhere ! Who but the children can express Half the delights of "Noon Recess"? When from the books and study free,' Their little hearts o'erfuU of glee, No rule may meddle with the fun, That's all their own — from twelve to one ! Alas ! for little lad or lass To whom it may have come to pass That naughtiness has brought about No right to join in " laugh and shout ; " Who all this recess hour must spend On study bench without a friend. While on the angry little face The scowls and tears leave many a trace i Poor little captive ! noon recess Has lost all charms — vou will confess. THE NOON RECESS. 79 Ah ! well, this hfe is but a school, Where we must j'ield to rod and rule. By some mysterious, stronger power We sometimes lose our recess hour. But even so, if loss of " fun " Should mark some needed victory won, The discipline must in the end Prove to have been our wisest friend : And when our recess hour we earn, With added zeal to it we turn. FROM GOLD TO GREY. Of dew-wet flowers. Everywhere A tender, restful silence lies, Born of the misty, distant skies ; Whence twilight shadows slowly fall, Like gauzy curtains, over all. The meadows stretch so mistily. ,'es can see ; And yonder forest hides away In its own darkness from the day ; And tinkling cow-bells ring in time To yonder streamlet's slumbrous chime i And o'er sweet Nature's paling face Night letteth down her veil apace. AT THE TWILIGHT HOUR. FROM GOLD TO GREY H'/fV THE DAISIES ARE WHITE. S3 Why the Dai^ie? are White. /J\NCE on a time a quarrel rose, ^ 'Tis said, between impatient Spring And that old Greybeard Winter, who Yet longer to his throne would cling. " My turn it is," quoth Mistress Spring, " To reign, and clothe the earth anew. How long must all my beauties lie Concealed, for fear of such as you?" Then to the sunbeams, coaxingly, She turned and said, " To you alone I look for help earth's chains to loose, And drive this loiterer from the throne." So, tempted by her smiling face, The sunbeams answered to her call. And tho' old Winter battled well. His kingdom soon began to fall. *'But if you think," he coldly said, " All trace of me to wipe away. My memory still shall haunt and lie Upon your meadows day by day." And on that night a messenger By Winter sent to Daisyland — Upon each daisy blossom laid A sheet of snow with lavish hand. And Mistress Spring, when she beheld The souvenir of Winter's reign. Smiled, as she softly kissed her pets. And foiled his purpose once again. For in the heart of each white flower She laid a bit of golden sun ; And bade it nestle closely there Until sweet daisy-life were done. And thus the fair field flower grew : Spring's golden sunshine, warm and bright At rest for ever in its heart. The while its leaves, like snow, are white. «4 FROM GOLD TO GREY, A ^^•\>'',4!. .' ;) '? ■1 '-•''- W:.«;- 1 AfV APRIL LOVE. FROM GOLD TO GREY. OUT ON THE SANDS. sr lUT on the sands we walked — three friends — To watch the sea-gulls dipping low, While gently murmuring at our feet The waters rippled to and fro ; And merrily and happily We watched the white waves come and go. But one of us was very fair ; Alas ! I knew it was not I. My heart sank low, but I was brave To watch his face when she was by, Where all too well, with tender spell, Love wrote its own tale silently. And so at last I left them there. And all unheeded came away. And from our gay companions hid The lesson I had learned that day. My dream was o'er, with Love no more I watched the rippling waters play. FROM GOLD TO GREY. The Old Bai^n. /^H ! a jolly old place is grandpa's barn, Where the doors stand open throughout the day, And the cooing doves fly in and out, And the air is sweet with the fragrant hay. Where the grain lies over the oaken floor, And the hens are busily scratching around. And the sunbeams flicker, and dance, and shine, And the breeze blows through with a merry sound The swallows twitter and chirp all day With fluttering wings in the old brown eaves, And robins sing in the trees which lean To brush the roof with their rustling leaves. The timid mice in the corner glean A harvest sly from the scattered grain, And the insects hum in the well-filled lofts. And build their nests on the window-pane. Oh ! dear old barn, where my childish days Were passed full oft, how I long to be Only a child again, to play Beneath thy roof with the old-time glee 1 THE WATER-LILY'S STOKY. 89 The Watef^-IhILy'p 3tof(y (From the IT was the Water-Lily told this pretty tale to me : " What think you yestereven was given me to see ? — There came a youth and maiden, two watchful aunts beside— And o'er the lake's calm bosom all gently did they glide. " But silent sat the maiden, and silent sat the youth, Lest older hearts their secret should learn, and lest the truth Their lips would fain have spoken, those older ears should hear ! Ah ! love is given to plotting when danger lurketh near ! " So when beneath the waters her little hand she dipped To cool its beating pulses, his own he slily slipped Beneath the sparkling ripples, the water's warmth to find, And— also something else that was nearer to his mind. " /saw them come together, the dainty hand so sweet. And his, so strong and tender, with fond clasp to repeat The tale their hearts were holding ; and neither aunt had sign That love was thus fulfilling its own sweet law divine. " Oh ! that play bene.ith the waters ! Sweeter for its stolen fun ; In and out the hands kept dipping, till the quiet sail was done. And from where I lay a-hiding, 'mongst my leaves so cool and green, Did I laugh to read the secret by the stern old aunts unseen. Thus the tell-tale Water-Lily told all merrily to me The sweet love-secret given 'neath the ripples bright to see. FROM GOLD TO GREY. GREATURES of golden, sunshiny weat Coquetting with blossoms for hou gether ! I lappiest ever when skies are blue, \nd sunshine your merriest moments woo ! 1 •tight-robed and beautiful, artless and gay \ferrily idling the summer away. Much ye remind me, butterflies bright, ( )f a winsome maiden, with heart as light \nd fickle as yours, as the days go by ; 1" It for only a sunshiny sky ! ( jquetting with hearts and love awhile, J hen off and away with a careless smile. I ut when the summer at last has fled, J'UtUrJlies' holiday, too, lies dead. r I t DESOLATE! LIFE may not all of sunshine be, we know The clouds must sometimes gather overheid, And tears, like rims, fall fast upon our heirts. And hopes before keen sorrow s blast fill dead. Lils£ a lone house — as desolate it stands — Our hearts seem oftentimes, alas ' to be , But Faith shall ope the doors and windows wide. And Hope shall enter with sweet Charity. And as the rain all nature doth refresh. When earth's fair blossoms droop beneath the sun. So we, refreshed, thro' mist of tears look forth, And feel our joys re-blossom one by one. FROM GOLD TO GREY. '' .9r \ '1 ■■'' ' 'n LOVE'S CONTRADICTIONS. 93 giimiiiiiiiiiiiui iiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiwiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiuaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii nil iiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiuiniiiiiiiiiininiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuuiiiiiiyiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiu^ L(OVE g /\H . my lo\e is as fair as the blosioms of May, ^ And sweet as June roses is she. But what shall I do when the merry dark eyes Refuse with her lips to agree ? My heart, she well knows, is for ever her own, It slipped from my keeping one day ; And the' I made haste to demand its return, The truant refused to obey. She knows I am waiting an honest reply To the question I asked — long ago. Rut, alas ! while her eyes shine a positive '■'■Yes" Her saucy, red lips answer — "A't).'" Now what can be done with a maiden like this ? My heart on the qui vivc remains, First hoping, then longing, then coaxing, and then Most cruelly teased for my pains ! She's " in love with Dame Nature," she merrily says, When I press her for sober replies ; But there's somehow a glance that my heart beats to see When she lifts to my own her bright eyes. There never was seen so provoking a maid, Nor one so bewitching indeed : And I am so truly her captive, that still I'll follow where'er she may lead. She may " love old Dame Nature," but I will love best The maid who is Nature's own child : First playful, then sober, then grave, and then gay ; Cruel at times, and then mild. Oh ! which are the truer — the eyes or the lips ? Of the two — which can lover believe .' I'll trust the dear eyes, for red lips are oft false ; But the eyes — they can never deceive ! FROM GOLD TO GREY. We Two. ipSOME wife, dear woman, and sit by me, \J For the toilsome day is done. And many thoughts in my heart are born With the setting of the sun. Ay, give me your hand, my patient love, That my own may clasp it tight. Not dearer it was in the days agone, Dear wife, than it is to-night. Old and wrinkled it may be, dear. But look you, wife, at the shine Of the ring that has clung to your finger there Since the day that I called you mine. 'Twas a long, long march from our youth to age ; But Time, be he ne'er so gray, Can never tarnish the lustre, dear. Of the pledge of our wedding-day. Look, wife, look out o'er the dear old pond ! How it lies 'neath the sunset's glow, All bathed in the tints we liked to see In those days of our long ago. The lilies are sweet, the lilies are white— As white as they used to be When, after the duties of day were done, You rowed on the pond with me. Do you remember that one glad eve When my heart o'erflowed at last? And the love I had feared to let you know Came pouring so thick and fast That it brought the beautiful blushes, love. To your tender, dimpled cheek. And you told your joy in your glowing eyes, Tho' your red lips dared not speak. But you dipped your hand in the waters bright And gathered a lily for me. And bade me wear it home, dear heart. That all the village might see That Dorothy, fairest of all the maids, Had given her hand and love To Reuben — truest of all the lads. Ay ! true as the stars above ! We can see the spot on the bank, dear witt, Where we landed that happy night In the sunset's glow ; and I kissed your brow, And clasped in my own so tight The trembling hand that was mine— all mine. And beneath the evening's dew (Just as the stars began to shine) Came home together — we two. love, the truth of that faithful love, Born far in the auld lang syne, In our steadfast hearts, thro' weal and woe. Never has ceased to shine ; But like the ring on your finger, dear, Is bright and unbroken still, many's the cloud we've passed beneath. At the heavenly Master's will. We're left — we two — to walk alone In the twilight, dear heart, of life, While our children wait at the shore above : When shall we meet them, wife ? Nay, dry those tears, and be glad with me That tho' day is almost done. We two are spared to each other still At the setting of Life's low sun. 96 FROM GOLD TO GREY. THE BARREN TREE. 97 FROM GOLD TO GREY. i 4._~w^ ^*- ■^i^#v- •..;'. ■ .^^^:'^ ' -L^ -y-"" ^■^- Spf^ijMQ Ti; c UT in the orchard the wee blossom-fairies Are busy with palettes and brushes at last ' See how they flutter about in the branches, Tinting the apple trees brightly and fast Pink and white blossoms, so dainty and fragrant, Laden with promise of good things to come ; Softly the breezes are stealing their perfume, While 'midst their beauty the busy bees hum. Fair are the treasures which come with the spring-time, Fields full of daisies and grasses so green; Sweet are the zephyrs from rose-gardens blowing, Lovely the earth in the sun's golden sheen. But out in the orchard amid the white blossoms. The pink and white blossoms that garland the trees. We find the best charm of the beautiful spring-time, And welcome the touch of the sweet-scented breeze. EASTER LILIES. 99 Oh ! sweet white lilies, your bloom was blest, For ye shone out with the Easter sun ; The tieautiful emblems of sorrow past. Of joy and gladness, and victory won. Ye came with the music of Easter bells, When they rang their tidings so far and near. And ye linger still, as the voice of spring Is singing its own sweet hymn so dear. FROM GOLD TO GREY. A/r BONNIE LADDIE. /y^Y bonnie laddie said to me Sla (Oh ! but a bonnie lad was he) — " Come, lass, and sit by me awhile. And cheer me with your winsome smile." I sat beside my laddie there (Oh ! but the day it was so fair), I talked and smiled with him whose love Was worth to me all hearts above. He praised my eyes, he praised my hair, He begged that I his home would share. " I'll be your shepherd — you, my sheep, And safe from harm your life I'll keep." So sang my bonnie lad to me ! So cheerily my lad sang he. And I — I listened with a smile, My heart o'erfull for words the while. My bonnie laddie went away (Oh ! but the snows were deep that day), My laddie, who my life would keep. Were he my shepherd — I, his sheep — Went down the hill at duty's call, And perished in the deep snow-fall. But in the fold above is he, Safe there to watch and wail for me. FROM GOLD TO GREY. "J_,ET Wei-l Enouqh Alone.' jODk Y dear," said Mr. Bunny, on a pleasant summer day, ^Ila " I'll go and take a look at things outside and far away From this dull home of ours, where we've lived too long, you see- Perchance I'll find a livelier place, my dear, for you and me." ''LET WELL ENOUGH ALONE:' I04 FROM GOLD TO GREY. PRETTY PHYLLIS. 105 FROM GOLD TO GREY The Te^t of the JDai^y I:?'*=^•i'"'; • y^^,:^^^^^'^ 'The JVIeadow L(Ake. BROAD expanse of water rippling bright, And dimpling into sparkles 'neath the light Of a fair summer day, a golden day With which the sunbeams and the shadows play ; While on the hill-sides merrily the breeze Is singing its sweet song amongst the trees, Or, mad with frolic, 'neath the azure skies To dip its pinions in the lake it hies. Along the wooded shore the wavelets creep. Singing the ferns and nodding grass to sleep ; Kissing the' grim old rocks till one by one They shine and glisten 'neath the noonday sun. The boats, which lazily swing to and fro, Keep time to lullabies so soft and low. Which round their keels the rippling waters sing From morn till night, with love unwearying. Now here, now there, from many a woodside tree We hear the call of birds, and gleefully The music of their song sweet echoes make Across the bosom of the quiet lake. Far off, beneath the shadow of the shore, Some merry rower drops awhile his oar, And faintly o'er the waters, sweet and clear. The echo of his boat-song we may hear. THE MEADOW LAKE. 135 \ Oh ! fair, sweet lake, all diamond-crowned, and gay With the sweet blessing of the summer day ; Thou perfect picture from the Masters hand ; Thou fairest of all spots on sea or land ; Shut in by hills which bathe their staunch old fes; In thy cool wavelets : kissed by zephyrs sweet And guarded by the soft blue sky above. No wonder that thy memory I love ! Far, far away from thee my path must lie. Apart from wooded hill and full free sky ; Apart from shady glen and ferny road ; Apart from Nature's fearless, loving code. But in my heart thy memory I shall hold Till memory and sense grow worn and old- And many a silent echo will awake Itself within my heart, fair meadow lake. 136 FROM GOLD TO GREY. LOVES HIDING-PLACE. 137 " Well," sighed she, " I'll not betraj safe with me." Came the hunter then . " Oh ' maiden, didst thuu Cupid see ? " " Nay," she answered, whilst m blushes her fair face was steeped. And Love, in fancied safety nestling, 'neath her eyelids peeped. Fatal glance! the maiden's secret quickly was revealed, Love, within the blue eyes hiding, soon was forced t yield ; Then the hunter, gay and daring, kissed the maiden's face : " Captives mine, for ever ! Love — and Love's sweet hiding-pla 138 FROM GOLD TO GREY. old age I am He ; "1 I carry I have made, and I will bear ; will carry, and will deiii (Isa. xlvi, 4.) And then with reverent hands she'll lay The Book for a little while away ; And in the peace of her quiet room Sit restfully thro' the twilight's gloom, Busy with thoughts that come and go, Like flitting shadows, to and fro. >"Even to her old age," ah! yes. She has proven its truth and tenderness ; She has known her Lord thro' her many years. She has trusted her Lord thro' hopes and fears ; She has felt His strength from her youth till now, When the hairs are ' ' hoar " above her brow. HE light is dim in the western skies, And dim the light in the aged eyes ; But the end of the chapter is so near, And the truths of the chapter are so dear, She must read to the close — till the light goes past. And life has vanished from day at last. He has borne her safely thro' floods of woe, He has made her daily His care to know, And her faithful heart, in its humble trust. Feels all He does to be wise and just ; For " ffe •wiU deliver,^'' come grief and pain. And after the clouds send light again. The dear Lord ruleth her life each day, And now when cometh the twilight gray He still will read with His tender eyes, So long as there's light in the western skies. To the end of the chapter ; then His breast Will give to the ransomed soul its rest. TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER. 139 lf'fS^.''>v|^'fliPf;''| HI *«!' 'J , ' FROM GOLD TO GREY. The Fipher'p Dauphtef^. ^^[TITH the first faint streak of the day-dawn ^^ She looks from her window's height, For the fierce, wild rage of the sea is past, And gone the blackness of night. With the first faint flush of the sunrise The tears in her eyes are dried, For she sees the sail of her father's boat, And over the distance wide Her h;art a welcome is sending, M iking her glad eyes bright ; " Thank God," she cries, " that he comes unharmed From the dangers of the night ! " Oh ! wild was the cruel tempest. And loud was the angry loar Of the midnight' storm and the giant waves As they lashed the lonely shore. And timid the heart of the maiden Who watched the long hours away. In dread lest the life she loved go out Ere the dawn of the coming day. " And, oh ! should I lose thee, father ! " She cried in her agony, " Nor joy nor gladness ever again, Nor safety shall be for me!" But now to the morning's breezes She gaily flingeth her fears, For the day-dawn shines on the spreading sails, And the cool winds dry her tears. No more she fears for the future. For ^''father" is close at hand, And all forgotten the night will be When she touches that father's hand. Oh ! what if we lose " Our Father," What if we lose His care ? What if we fail to watch for Him With never-ceasing prayer? What if the darkness hide Him, The darkness of wilful sin ? And the tempest Iseats, and the night grows wild. And our lives are black within .'' Oh ! what should we know of safety ? Where should we turn for rest. If never again in Faith we could lay Our heads on the Father's breast.'' Let us watch and pray till He coineth Safe out of the mist and rain. And out of the doubt that clouds our. hearts. To gladden our lives again. And we'll watch for the coming day-dawn. When clouds and sorrow shall rise. And the sight of the " Father " we long to see Shall dry the tears in our eyes. NOVEMBER. FROM GOLD TO GREY, STRAYING FROM THE PICNIC. FROM GOLD TO GREY. ft I^EJVIIJ^IPCENCE. •YTVENEATH the quivering arch of leaves, ^ Where sunlight flickered through, While birds sang merry songs of love, Each to its mate so true : Where just below the mossy bank The laughing stream flowed by, We came with fishing-line and rod. My blue-eyed May and I Oh ! how her merry laugh rang out, Startling the birds above ! And I forgot the shining fish While whispering words of love. And how the sunlight, falling through The tangled web of green. Came dancing down to crown her head- My blue-eyed May — my queen ! A REMINISCENCE. 145 Ah, me ! we were so happy then ; So happy, she and I ! How could we dream that clouds would drive The sunshine from our sky? For I loved her with man's best love, And her true heart was mine ; And the dear truth I loved to read Used in her eyes to shine. But years have passed since then, and she Hath with them passed away ; And Nature smiles as merrily As on that happy day. The leaves, the birds, the bank, the brook. Their missions still fulfil. But tncDwry only cheers my heart And keeps its murmurs still. 146 FROM GOLD TO GREY. \ \ The FLOWEf^ J\lip?iop< "'^ ^ \i\f|*^^v' V-ji' [fNTO the homes of sorrow and disticss The rare, sweet flowers go X.o Ijutl and l:loom, And with their own bright lives make glad awhile The lives that wither in perpctui gloom THE FLOWER MISSION. To these, the flowers on their mission go, And breathe a fragrance fraught with • new, sweet Hfe, And cause an atmosphere of joy and peace To enter e'en 'mid scenes of pain and strife Sweet buds of beauty ! how they seem to sa), " Cheer up ' cheer up ' there are kind heaits ind tLue And the ) our paths seem o\er^ro\\n with thorns, Yet hfe hath floweis jet m bloom foi > ou ^■-s •\ thousand blessings on the kindl) hands Which pluck the fragrant flowers for the ^ poor ! A thousand blessings on the kindly feet Which falter not, but go from door to door''^ And leave, with tender, loving charity, The sweet, joy-breathing gifts of love divine ' Who knows what endless flowers of grace and truth The Flower Mission may hereafter twine ? 148 FJiOM GOLD TO GREY. ROBIN AND I. I^OBI^I AND I. ^"mrvy^PC^ if I were a lady fair, ^^\ Binding each day in my flowing hair Gems and jewels all rich and rare ? What if I owned my coach and four, To stand each day at my stately door, Or bear me in state my journeys o'er ? Ah ! but I couldn't have Robin then ! Robin, poor, but the best of men ; ■iches lacking, himself were vain. And ric What -if my fingers, soft and white, Were flashing with diamonds' brilliant light. Dainty with gems so gay and bright ? Ah ! mine are brown with the summer sun. Hard with a toil that is never done. But Robin loves them — every one ! And if I wore dresses of satin sheen. Garments fit for a " dame " or queen, Why, Robin would know me not, I ween ! So my own two feet, I'm ready to say. Must be "coach and four" on market day, To take me o\er the roads awa)-. And the only gems for my waving hair Must be the beautiful sunbeams fair. Which Robin and I together may share. And this locket Robin has given me Holds the only gems that I care to see — The truest eyes that could ever be ! FROM GOLD TO GREY. WHO KNOirs? 151 IS2 FROM GOLD TO GREY. FoF( THE Sake of Pe/.ce. BOB and I were playmates once, Together used to laugh and cry ; A youth and maiden are we now — Oh, dear ! the years so swiftly fly ! We used to play — at lovers, too, When we were children gay and free ; And now, the rogue, he seems to think That he should still my lover be ! I really can't make up my mind To quarrel with the foolish boy, For maybe, if he went away, My life would lose one-half its joy And if the question I should try To argue with him, why — you see, In argument, e'en when a child, Rob always got the best of me. So now what would you really do? Rob has a word for all I say, And, after all, my heart inclines To let him have his own dear way. Strange how persistent men can be ! What can a timid maiden do ? I think — ^just for the sake of peace — I'd hzXXsx— yield the point : don't you ? THE GOLDEN GATE. IS3 The Qoldejm GIate. "trVEYOND the clouds the Golden Gate is waiting, Which only angel hands can open wide, And only they whose day of toil is ended Pass in, and find their rest at eventide. What may 7<.v know of all that there awaits them, Of joys which ne'er on earth their lives did fill? To them, and only them, is sol\-ed the mystery. Whilst we, with vision dim, must wonder still. Oh, Golden Gate, by angel hands so guarded ! Oh, Golden Gate that opens day by day ! What of the dear ones who, thy portals passing, Have faded from our earthly sight away? We read of realms of everlasting glory. Of fields where flowers bloom, nor fade nor die ; May we not breathe the fragrance of their blooming. E'en tho' they blossom far beyond the sky? Oh, Golden Gate, beyond the clouds now waiting Thou openest to let the weary in To where is only welcome rest eternal. And nothing more of earthly strife and sin Oh, life which lieth far beyond our vision ! Oh, rest eternal which our dear ones know ! Oh, Golden Gate which openeth into gloiy ! By faith we enter in, the' yet below. FROM GOLD TO GREY. KANJMETTE'g i(OVEF(p. B ANNETTE stands out in the sunny porch, Her lovers fond to see ; She counts them all by the half a score, Vet no coquette is she. She has a smile for every one. For all a kindly viford, And, as she counts her lovers o'er. With pride her heart is stirred. Nannette no special favorite knows Amongst her lovers true ; She trusts full well their love for her, And well she loves them, too. Or black or white, she does not care, Or be they brosvn or gray ; She greets each one with a cordial hand, And waits their call each day. Nannette, Nannette, what spell hast thou These lovers fond to win? The dimples play at hide and seek About her cheeks and chin ; While to her eyes the answer flies. Straight from her heart so true : "Love calleth love !" she gaily says, " And wins what kind words woo.' So daily to her porch she goes. This sweet Nannette, to greet Her faithful lovers who have flown Her welcome smile to meet. And tho' she counts them by the score. Yet is she no coquette ; And of her flock, day in and out. Not one doth she forget. * N ANNETTE'S LOVERS. «ss '56 FROM GOLD TO GREY. Qf^andma'p "ftutD l