^s^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Cliap Copyright No UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Cop, leoo, srr xhk Adtbok. VERSES By 3VIARY KLA-THERHSTE CLARK. Imo^ ONE COPV =!eO«-lVED, [Library of Couflr.JMS SECOND COPY Register Press, Sandusky, O. THE ROMANY GIRL. I saw her once, a year ago, and still she flitF Across my fancy like a gilded butter- fly Flits acro33 the flower-scented air of summer, With just such graceful abandon. I see her yet, her long brown curls, wherein the light and shadow Strove for mastery. Her eyes (I can't describe their color) but they shone Like planets in a winter heaven. And flashed from gray to black in merriment or anger. Her cheeks were soft carnations and the laughter lived on her sweet lips. Her short, gypsy gown, gay and fan- tastic With rows on rows of bright beads on her neck and hair. Short sleeves revealing brown and dimpled arms. She looked like some quaint picture of an olden time, awakened to life. I saw her once. She begged to tell my fortune, "A silver piece to cross your palm," she pleaded, I humored her. Her brown hand touched my own, And with a laughing, sidelong glance from her sweet luminous eyes, Her lips' low music broke the silence. "You love!" I smiled. "Most people do," 1 said, "You are loved!" "Is it so?" I asked. "You do not love," she said, "you are not loved," She gazed into my eyes, a transient sadness in her own. "How, foolish maid," I cried, "How can I love and not love, "How can I be loved and not be loved? "Away, thou art a pretty elf, but thy mission does not lie "In telling fortunes." "Ah!" a scorn- ful smile played on her lips. "You are unwise, not I. You love, yet he you love does not love you, "You a.re loved, yet he who loves you you despise!" And having thus explained, she laugh- ing danced away. Leaving a sunbeam in her train. Yet oft she flits across my fancy in her quaint, gypsy gown, With long brown curls and gray side- glancing eyes, And cheeks carnation-hued. I feel her brown hand on my own again, And hear her lips, curved with sweet merriment, Pronounce my destiny, that strange and fateful contradiction, "You love, you are loved, you do not love, you are not loved." A NOCTURNE FROM CHOPIN. Alone in the silence, grey-faced and wan Sat a young girl. Her vows to be a bride of heaven, But taken yesterday. A tightness in her throat, an iciness about her heart. In her mind's eye, she sees the j^'oung companions of her former life Circling in a graceful dance, care-free, light-hearted. And one whose eyes had ever sought her own with favor, Treads the glorious measure, oh cruel- est pang of all, With one as fair, as graceful as she was in the old days. So soon she is forgotten. A low sigh escaped her pallid lips. Straight from her anguished heart. A longing for the world so early quitted, A wild regret, a sense of bartered lib- erty for what? Hark! Ah! across the evening steals the pealing of the organ. Grand and majestic are those golden chords of some heaven-inspired anthem. And angels' voices wonderful and sweet, breathe on her spirit bid- ding her rejoice. Her face grew rapt. Her recent wild regret has fled. With bended knee and clasped hands in prayer, She breathes, " 'Tis better so. My Father blot out these dreams that tempt, Tear from my heart these thoughts and sinful ties That link me to the world without. The ties that keep me From Thyself and Heaven." A IITTLE WHILE. A little While— And springtime's silver rain Will plash o'er hill and plain, Its murmurs, all in vain, I shall not hear. A little while — And summer's varied bloom Will breathe its sweet perfume, And brighten old earth's gloom. I shall not see. A little while — And autumn's gold and red Will fall above my head, And form a gorgeous spread. I shall not know. A little while— The smiling earth is chill; Snow whitens yonder hill; The grave is dark and stiii Wherein I lie. THE TEST. While the sunshine of hope floods your path — And the blossoms of success fall one by one to crown you; And while your life is bright and shadowless, And fair and cloudless as a summer day; While every one bows low before your slightest wish, I do not blame you now that you forget. But, oh remember, when the bleak blasts of December Destroy the rose that waxed so fair in June; — And one by one the friends who fol- lowed you to fortune Avert their faces and with chilly air, forget they ever knew you; Remember this, — that I who watched you from afar, As one might watch by night some distant favourite star. Will then, my friendship prove, forget it nt)t. TO A HAPPY ONE. You say she had no mission, Save it was to seek the pleasures of existence, A mere butterfly that sipped the sweets from flowers. She loved the dance and music and all gayety. And the fragrance of soft, sweet sum- mer days. It was her mission to amuse. And for this she required to be amus- ed. A sorry mission say you! No! Why blame her if she sought the sun- shine? Let whoe'er will, seek darkness, shadows, sorrow. 'Twas not for her. Here was a maid who found Life's Fairyland. She was not very deep nor very wise. But like some shallow brook prattling joyously along its little way, Making the land gladder for its pres- ence. A little brook not very deep But crystal clear, reflecting the calm blue of the heaven In its happy heart. She was not very wise but she was happy; She never spoke a word of wrong 'gainst any one, She sang her little songs with gay light-heartedness. And scattered sunshine all along her path. I think of her on these clear, sunny days, (She loved them so, of old.) Transplanted to God's garden in the springtime of her youth. From life of happiness to life of happi- ness, — Eternity of joy. Oh, blessed fate! -:y^'i\^ THE IDEAL, While the calm world glittered in the sunset glow, Fair beauty stood upon a western hill; Her admirers thronged the deep, wide vale below — And each one gazing felt his pulses thrill. In her fair face each saw his own ideal — Enraptured all stood there, a longing band; With yearning arms outstretched, each one doth feel A spell fall o'er him from the siren's wand. Cries one, "Her eyes are dark and deep as night, "Yet shine and sparkle with love's ardent fire; "Her hair is jet. A smile of dazzling light "Beams from her face and doth my heart inspire." " 'Tis not so. Her eyes are heaven's own azure, "The sunbeams bright dance in her curls of gold; "Her elfin heart Rnows naught but joy and pleasure, "Her lips so full and red, all sweet- ness hold." "Nay. She's tall and queenly with a goddess' air, "Her face like chiseled marble, calm, serene; "Her grey eyes like twin pools of crystal are, "My own ideal. She is of noblest mien." And each one saw a different vision As he raised his eyes to Beauty fair, Unconscious his ideal was but illusion Each raved of Beauty's eyes and lips and hair. And thus it ever is. In eacii one's heart There is a loved ideal enshrined there, Whose image no rude hand can tear apart, Engraved deep on the soul, a picture fair. THE BEST OF THREE. I, From Shadowland they came, the wraith-like three, With present, past and future mystery. The first spoke through the incensed air, "I am What-Is. Am I not fair? "A cup of joy is at thy lips, "Drink deep, behold care's shadow slips "Away like dew before the sun. "Drink deep, thy life is scarce be- gun. "All, all is thine, the long sweet hours "Of night soft with its starry flow- ers." n. And then one more ethereal than the first Glided forth and from her lips in soft- ness burst These gentle words of hope and peace: "What-Shall-Be when What-Is shall cease, "1 am. Behold thy heart's wounds healed, "And far beyond thou seest revealed "The visions of a fairer earth. "Lift up thine eyes, behold the worth "Of What-Shall-Be and dry thy tears. "Thy hopes look bright across the years." III. The third was A^oiceless but with skil- ful hand, She drew a picture of a charmed land. I saw June roses on a cottage wall, I heard a bird's song far away and low, I saw the western sky with amber all aglow. Across the crystal bay I saw a silent sail. IV. Oh, Past, what joys lie locked within thy breast. Oh, days that were, I love, I love you best, Skies in days that are, in days that still may be, May boast cerulean just as bright, But such as those that gave me most delight Come not again. THE ROGUE UNMASKED. O, roguish elf! perchance you think, Because you held my heart in thrall With grasp of iron, till on the brink Of sad despair I gave you all — You can again. Had not the fairy, wise good-sense, Come to my aid with timely warn- ing, Methinks my only recompense For loving you v.'ould be dread scorn- ing. I knov/ it well. She whispered that you were a rogue, And lovers sought but to forsake them ; And that a scheme with you in vogue V/as to win hearts and then to break them For cruel sport. And so I'm steeled 'gainst you. brown eyes, My heart of old with sorrow rent — A sadder heart and now more wise Knows all too well your blandish- ment, O roguish eyes. THE PASSING OF THE YEAR. I mourn thy passing, dear old year; Thou hast brought me my share of happiness, And so kindly mingled gay with drear That I'll hold thy mem'ry in tender- ness. Tho' oft the rarest joys were spilled Along the hills and vales of life, Full many a dream was unfulfilled, Unconquered many a petty strife. But still, a kiiid farewell, old year; The end has come of thy brief reign, The new year seems so wondrous fair. We would not have thee back again. Now, v/hilf^ into the misty past Thy feeble, tott'ring steps recede, The new year, all alive with hope, Doth promise to fulfill our need. The new year, who with care-free smile, Unvtiis a host of glowing dreams, (rod grant the future be as bright. Joyous, and happ}'' as it seems. THE CITY OF THE DEAD. 'Tis Sabbath day, A heavenly calm- ness falls on all. As the silent streets of the city white we tread; Fair blossoms and evergreens so straight and tall,- Enrich and beautify the city of the dead. Fair and beautiful is this city, silent, white, And all who dwell here are at peace, at rest. For o'er their dreamless sleep ne'er comes a blight. The city holds a restfulness most blest. The sun gilds the slabs above the sleepers' heads. With burning gold, each time-worn letter leaves, The grass its cheerful greenness o'er them spreads And leaves and flowers aid to deck their graves. The wind murmuring thro' the mourn- ful pines Chants o'er all a requiem sweet and low, Unheeding the sleepers in those silent lines Slumber on in rest so calm, unruffled in its flow. Each one reposing on mother earth's kind breast, She holds in loving, close embrace. Impartially her children are caressed, And each one has an equal resting place. Is there a fairer, lovelier spot, Where the weary, way-worn feet may tread, Than in God's consecrated lot. This fair white city of the dead? •^#¥x?^ TREASURES. Among the treasures I prize Is a dainty box of blue, Hidden away from prying eyes With its keepsakes dear though few. I prize it not for the value Of the treasures 'neath the lid; But deep in the heart are the mem'ries Of those associations hid. There's a sprig of yellow golden-rod. Plucked on a summer day, When by the waters of Erie We whiled the hours away. There's a bunch of blue forgetmenots In memory of a fete, Where each lass held her laddie In a charming tete-a-tete. There's a little faded picture, Once cherished more than all; But a summer dream has perished With the flowers in the fall. A knot of sky-blue ribbon That once bound locks of gold Lies near a bunch of violets Once purple, now faded and old. Notes, photos, letters, poems, Hidden away from light Recall to me the visions Of many a past delight. And these are the beloved treasures I place under lock and key — Though worthless indeed to others, . They are more than precious to me. THE PAST. On the moldering walls of time's misty hall, Hang the portraits of the years; And some are replete with joys most sweet — And some are traced in tears. Let's steal away from the present day, And glide down the aisles of the past; And youth's ardor renew as old years we view Years — Whose burdens we've from us cast. O to recall from the past's guarded hall, The pleasures and hopes that are dead; Each friend's stilled tongue with the songs it sung, The treasured words that were said. We may weep in vain but ne'er again May we taste the delights that are past; For on that crumbling wall in time's misty hall — The years hold them with fetters fast. Then enjoy while you may each fleet- ing day, For all too soon cometh sorrow; For joys of yesterday are far, far away, And uncertain are those of tomor- row. THE COMING OF DEATH. I hear thy step, oh Death, across the winter's snow, In these fierce storms that stride so wildly pitiless; I feel thy chilly breath upon this icy air, I hear thy ceaseless tapping on my window pane. AVonldst honor me. oh wierd and sober messenger Of joy and peace to come in that here- after fair? I do not fear thee as a grim, harsh visitor, But watch and bless thy coming with a gladdened heart. For Disappointment's poison thou dost ever bear An antidote, and balm for spirits brok- en down. Healing unhappiness most gently and surely, Drawing Oblivion's curtain o'er all life's woes By one long, wakeless sleep untroubled by a dream. LOST ILLUSIONS. I stood upon the shadowy bridge, That spans the Present and the Past, — And ever present Memory with her many voices Stood by my side. Far o'er the Sea of By-Gone-Years Floated a phantom ship, the Might- Have-Been. From out ity shadowy decks peeped childish faces. With laughing eyes and lips like rosy flowers, And curls of nut-brown hair. My eyes grew bright v/ith e'en these phantom joys, — Until a mist of bitterness obscured my view. Then mocking Memory who had brought this vision back, Recalled with mournful vividness each past hope bitter-sweet. Unrolled the barren present and the vague future's stretch of years, And murmured with a scornful, mad- dening laugh, "Lost opportunities and vain, vain dreams." FROM DAWN TO DAWN. 1 waited for you, dear, that livelong day, From e'en the earliest hour of morn- ing's dawn, When eastern skies are bathed in coral mist, And gentle winds are rocking dream- ing flowers. The morn sped on to noon and after- noon, And the sun, aweary, rested in the west; I watched the twilight shades fall softly "While gleaming worlds lit up the sap- phire heaven. 1 waited for you, dear, that livelong day. Hopeful, expectant, until a shade of doubt. Like some pale ghost crept 'cross my path that eve And disappointment haunted all my dreams. L did not look for you the coming day, Nor noticed that the heaven was still more fair, The south wind bore a message from a rose, And Nature's choir sang loud for joy, that day you came! ''^^^W^ CUPID'S LAMENT. A pretty toy. I'm sorry it is broken, Too roughly handled was the fair, frail token. Why can't you stupid mortals under- stand The light strings snap beneath an un- skilled hand. A master's touch can waken sweetest melody, Light as the winds that sweep a sum- mer sea. This fairy instrument as free as air, — Its tones so silvery, and so pure, so rare, In your remorseless fingers shattered lies, A mere ghost of a one-time lovely prize. II. Indeed, a sorry thing has come to pass; Hereafter, I shall label "hearts" as "glass," Or else I shall grow old and hoary Prom close work in my labratory; Where hearts with greatest care are mended, And now I think my speech is ended. I meet with great appreciation, And should you desire a consultation. For any ailment of the heart I ply my fascinating art. In Lover's Lane you'll plainly see My sign hung out — Cupid, M. D. WE— SUSIE AND BESS AND MAY. I. Do you remember our childhood's springtime? Life was one long summer day; Forever together, in all kinds of weather, We — Susie and Bess and May. 11. When Summer was painting the petals red, In the beds where poppies grew; 'Twas then we carried the doll to be buried, We — Bessie and May and Sue. III. Gaily attired as wee women we walked. Proudly in mother's long dress; By burdock leaves shaded we gaily paraded, We — Susie and May and Bess. IV. Do you remember one eve just at dusk, To frighten people away; We hung out on a post a big white paper ghost, We — Susie and Bess and May. V. Oh, could we return for only a day To the childish joys we knew; But the years have flown, we are wo- men grown. We — Bessie and May and Sue. "OVER THE MOUNTAINS." Perhaps some day the tangled chain of destiny- Will be unraveled. And we shall see the good C*f every little pain that burned the heart. Then shall we understand the deeper sorrows, Their chastening influence and their purifying powers. Some day, grieve not. it surely will come right. Meanwhile let all things take their course, Enjoy the bits of gold that dot the gray, Let your spirit gaze beyond the moun- tains of despair To the shining vales of infinite seren- ity. TO J. S. We met but once yet when sleep flings About me her soft, languid wings, And wafts me to the realm of dreams, We keep trysts there, or so it seems. Tho' like an ocean, barriers deep Our paths apart forever keep; Like some sweet harp with silver strings That brings back half-remembered things; And when are hushed the thrilling strains, 'ine music in the heart remains. So your voice in tones kind and low Brought back the hopes of long ago, Awakened half-remembered things And struck my soul's long untouched strings. We met but once yet I am glad That this one pleasure I have had; Across the barriers your kind voice Speaks to my soul and I rejoice; Oft, oft again I live it seems That one sweet meeting in my dreams. ADVICE TO AND . I. Neither would speak tho' their proud hearts are breaking — Each thinks the other one is more to blame; Calmly they meet the world with their hearts aching, Never to mention the other one's name. II. Feigning calmness so well and smil- ing so bravely, Tumultuous feelings rage in his breast; For she's standing there responding so naively To some one beside her with gayest jest. III. He thinks she is heartless yet one tear on her lashes. Will bring bim again to the place at ber feet, — One kind word from him and she'll grant him forgiveness And smile through her tears with a joy most complete. IV. So lovers, why quarrel? Too short is this life, To waste it forgiving, to waste it in strife. FAREWELL, SUMMER. Bright summer, the loveliest child of the year, Is dying. Oh, is there a sigh, or a tear, A pining for skies that are bluer, more clear, A longing for flowers now withered and sere? Yet lovely e'en dying, fair Summer, art thou; Autumn scatters gay leaves upon thy pale brow; The birds sing thy death-song so mournful and low. More sweetly than ever they sing their songs now. With thy death, oh Summer, earth's fairest things die. Thy bier is heaped up with hopes dead and gone by, And all on thy grave drop some token or sigh For glad, happy hours that so swiftly did fly. Adieu, then, sweet Summer; we love thee so well It pains us most deeply to bid thee farewell, Tho' Autumn, with many a mystical spell, Doth strive now to cheer us, our fears to dispell, We would Mistress Summer could e'er with us dwell! ^^m^i^ IF YOU WERE HERE. It >cu wor«? with me, here tonight, Just you and I together, dear, My soul would sing in wild delight. The clouds about my path would clear. II. If you were with me here, tonight, Just you and I, dear, hand in hand, 1 ne old sweet dreams would rise again And waft us back to Fairyland. III. If you were with me here, tonight, Just you and I. No tears nor sighs, Nor sad regrets, nor shadow, dear, Would mar our earthly Paradise. IV. And everything I would forgive; I wonder do you quite forget? The haunting music of a song. The song you sang when first we met, Is ling'ring still. We were such friends. For one short hour of past delight, I would exchange all these dull days, And have you here again, tonight. -yJ^'fN?^ THE LITTLE BROWN MAID. Little brown maid in the open field, Side by side with your brothers there, The hoe is the scepter that you wield, Your only crown is your wind-blown hair. Upon your cheek is the sun god's kiss. Your sturdy hands are hard and brown. And in your heart the unruffled bliss. That only a little brown maid could own. Day after day with your brothers there Till the afternoon's last rays fade, Working and singing with care-free air, I envy you, little brown maid. NOBILITY. To be truly noble, one must have a god-like mind; One far above the common kind, Which revels in low deeds. To be noble, one need not be a king or prince; The loveliest blossoms of fairest, brighest tints, Spring from brown seeds. Aim high; but try thy wings. Soar far above all common things, Where e'er thy noble nature leads. Better a sober casket, it's gem's bright radiance flaunting, Than one elaborate, with the jewel wanting. 'Tis likewise with man. He may be humble, poor and lowly. Yet rich in soul most pure and holy. Thus may God plan. LADY PEARL. I. My fair lady Pearl, a most charming girl, Entertained an admirer one eve, Poor stammering Tim, (I feel sorry for Mm), Could scarce one complete sentence weave. IL Completely enchanted, he ardently wanted To win for his wife this fair girl, Vv'^ith laborious skill, he commenced, "W-w-will — ," He stopped, his brain in a whirl. in. My lady Pearl, fair, her tact was most rare, She thought she would give Tim her aid, — "Of course, it is Will, you're a guesser of skill," Said the sweet yet mistaken young maid. IV. 'Will and I wed in June, — What, going so soon? "Indeed, 'twas a very short call. 'Good night!" closing the door, as she smiled, "What a bore! "I've cut short one proposal, that's all." i^ A SOMETIME FAIRY TALE. I. Somewhere, somewhere, my little maid. There waits in this wide world for you, A fairy prince with courtly grace — With loyal heart, steadfast and true. I know not whence he'll come, my dear, Perhaps from East, perhaps from West, From Northern land or Southern clime, I only know he'll love you best. II. Perhaps he'll come to you in state, With rolling drums and flags unfurled; And kneeling at your feet will say, — "I love you best in all the world!" He may come as a modern knight. Or in some strange, grotesque dis- guise. But by this mark you'll know him, dear, The love light shining in his eyes. III. B'U whether knight of modern times, Or fairy prince of courtly mien; He'll bear you off to his own realm. Where you shall reign as fairy queen. I see the wonder in your eyes — But little maid, it will come true. And from somewhere, some future time, A fairy prince will come for you. A FAIRY REVEL. I. Oh, Mab is the fairy queen, Her hair's like the sunbeam's sheen, Her airiest gown Is of silk thistledown. On her head is a dew drop crown. II. When the moon shines o'er the hill And the meadow's cool and still; Then by her royal will, The fairies have a chance To frolic and lightly dance Under the silver beams. While here and there are gleams Where the fireflies flit and prance. III. And merrily o'er the hill The crickets pipe so shrill. And the frogs croak in the lake And the beetles are awake, For every one, large and small. That lives in the queen's broad hall, Can come to her royal ball Held under the poplars tall. IV. Bui when the red dawn breaks Each one then betakes Himself to his rest On some fair flower's breast, And all's once more still. On meadow and hill. LIFE AND DEATH. Our Life is Death, we living, die each day, As cherished hopes, ambitions flee away. Yet Death is Life, we dj'ing, pass from strife, Death is the gate that leads from Life to Life. CHARITY. To rejoice with all in their successes. To comfort them in their defeats, To soothe them in sadness, And to be glad in their gladness, To forgive their shortcomings As we hope to be forgiven. To pray for their welfare forever. This — Charity most blessed virtue of mankind. SUNSET, JANUARY 1, 1900. I saw the first day of the glad New Year Die slowly while her life-blood dyed the west In one great scarlet gash. The evening hovered o'er her pityingly, And stooping, with a fleecy cloud Did strive to staunch the dark red flow, Till crimson crept upon its stainless white. Far fairer now the dying day than in her noon-tide triumph. As beautiful as when flushed with hope. And full of promise, she peeped above the eastern hills. Tho' conquered like a queen she dies, The jeweled robes of night her cere- ments. And at her bier with brilliant taper Doth watch the beauteous Venus. OCTOBER. Now, Summer old, by gay attire doth feign The youthfulness she felt in June; Tho' ev'ry breeze doth whisper that her reign Is o'er and that she passeth soon. Her wreath of golden-rod, her gown of royal aster, While ever and anon, the brilliant leaves fall faster — Strewing her path with rubies and with gold. With dark dream-haunted eyes she goes To her last festival while we behold Far in the distance wraiths of snows. Winter's ghosts. Grieving she goes, knowing we hold her dear. Who crowned her queen of seasons and darling of the year. OCTOBER. Farewell, farewell, The summer is dying, The low winds are sighing, The birds south are flying. Farewell, farewell. i-arewell, farewell, The red west is burning, Tne green leaves are turning. And young hearts are yearning For joys that are past. Farewell, farewell, The bees have ceased humming, The night season's coming. The crickets are thrumming Their instruments shrill. "YOU TAUGHT ME LOVE." You taught me love and yet you never knew Its yearning, hopes, the sorrow of de- feat; With cold, calm eyes you taught the lesson sweet, And eagerly I grasped it all from you. You taught me love, tho' of it you knew naught. With unmoved heart, you calmly went your way; Your lesson — I'll remember it for aye. For one who knew it not, how well you taught. BEYOND. Beyond the East's gate golden, Beyond the sunset's rose mist, Beyond the blue dome olden. Silent and star-kissed. Beyond the South's soft languor. And its tropical perfume. Beyond the North gale's anger And ice-jeweled plume. Beyond, oh Peace, thou lieth In the Islands of the Blest, And souls, world-weary crieth For thee and rest. THE HEART OF A MAID. "Forget thee? Nay, that I will not; I love for aye, not for a day!" He boasted thus and then — forgot. Another came with noble face; His words rang true, "I love but you!" He sought her hand with knightly grace. She scorned him, said she loved him not. And mourned the other who forgot. GALLANTRY. She tried to entangle him in a net. As she tore to pieces a violet. With an arch and mischievous smile; "Oh, Sir Gallant," she cried with drooping eyes, "I have often heard you are wondrous wise, "I would give your wisdom trial. "In this I would have your opinion, pray, "What color of eyes are the prettiest? Say." But the youth was also clever, Another perhaps might have lost his head, "Why, the color of yours!" he simply said, And won her favor forever. THE UNATTAINABLE. On the rocky cliff there blooms a flower, No more endowed with beauty's power Than the one that unfolds at our very feet; But the longing heart counts it far more sweet, Because it lies beyond our reach. The unattainable each one doth crave, From early youth till he sinks in the grave. What eludes the grasp is the heart's desire; There's an insatiable longing for something higher, For something beyond our reach. AWAKENING. All those old, bright dreams are end- ed— In the past were strangely blended Wild delusions, foolish fancies; And the wraiths of gay romances; These within my brain oft flitted, Yet they never have been fitted Into shape material. How I dread to say them farewell, They are part of me I know well. Wound around my inmost being; Would that what I have been seeing In these dreams so optimistic Dreams so v/ierd, so strange, so mys- tic. Might become reality. Hush thou dreamer! Tho' the part- ing With them will cause sorrow's smart- ing On thy heart like fiery flame, — Yet still resign to them all claim; Thrust away with firm decision Dreams of glories nigh Elysian, Wake and strive to make them real. A SPRING DAY. The tufted titmouse cocked its head, Lightly from bush to tree it sped, Its bold black eyes knew naught of fear, Nor seemed to care that we were near. Tne blue jay called in varied strain, A chipping sparrow trilled again, A vesper sparrow's twittering Was haunted with the dreams of spring. The meadow lark with flute-like note, A redbird with a tuneful throat, The cooing of a mourning dove. All rang around us and above. For this was God's and Nature's choir, Their temple's dome, the sky's sap- phire. Oh, what a place to live and dream, Right here beside this silver stream. The while the birds these balmy days Are chanting loud their Maker's praise. HEIRS OF THE WORLD. The one God made us ^,11, yet it passes our poor understanding, Why some are fashioned of the fair- est mold, Ii'lawless in body yet with soul imper- fect; Why some great souls are chained down in prisons of flesh, Beating against the barriers as caged birds beat against the wires; Why there are those whose heritage throughout the long, long years, Has been but sin. Fettered by circumstances, enchained by ordinary things. Forever bound to earth, they have not caught One glimpse of heaven. Why are these things? In some dim way we comprehend. It is man's fault, his selfishness, his carelessness, The garnered sins of ages. AT THE CROSSWAY. A slight pause at the crossing of the ways Of utter disregard and friendliness; A little wonder at the tangled maze, That doubt conjured with sinister success. A hasty word that nothing can recall; A few tears shed in solemn loneli- ness ; Repentance and a wild impulse to fall At some one's feet and make a fit redress. A heartache healed at last by pity's balm, While sweet forgiveness all the trouble ends; A drifting back to friendship's even calm, And tearful gladness that we still are friends. MY PRETTY IMOGENS. To L— . Oh, surely you have seen My pretty Imogene, Whose eyes and lips recall the sum- mer flowers; A maid both kind and good, A rose of womanhood, With whom I spend the happiest of hours. Were I king, she'd be queen, My pretty Imogene, I never knew a maid more fair and clever; Well might she wear a crown Upon her tresses brown. In a cottage we'll be happy forever. HOPE AND MEMORY. Hope endeth now — but Memory Beginneth here, Hope frail as an anemone — But yet to me so very dear. You will forget — but Memory With me shall stay; And even through eternity, A precious thing — will last alway. I will remember till I die, And after then; Nor shall escape by lips one sigh For any day of past aa-ain. I would not have the slightest grief E"er shadow you; I glory in the sweet belief — That tho' unwise, my love was true. UNSATISFIED. 'Tis not for souls to be content, this lesson heed — Tue seed is not content to be a lowly seed, But strives until it bursts in perfect bloom And scatters o'er the world its sweet perfume. How be content when within, a yearn- ing, longing soul Beats on unsatisfied till it reach per- fection's goal. PATE. Sometimes common souls borne up by- chance and fortune Do step into the place meant for the wise. Genius and worth oft struggle on un- known. And dying, are forgotten. Alas! for them who waste their ad- miration on mere polished quartz. Passing by the true and uncut gem, Mistaking the one for the other. TO . She is a woman, often a mystery, Imprudent and often indiscreet. A harshness 'gainst her rises in your heart Until she melts it with one look from her deep eyes. Ottimes her dignity and her sweet penitencer Win your approval till in those wells of mystery You descrie a merriness that quite be- lies her majesty of mien. Mysterious eyes that mirror all her thoughts — No matter what her actions. Eyes one moment causing tears. Then moving one to laughter. A woman's eyes. Who can explain their mysteries? CONTENT. A merry song I heard one morn. A waif passed by all ragged, torn, Tho' poverty her lot from birth, She wore a gem of priceless worth. A rich man rode proud, haughty, great, Discontent in his high estate; Tho' gold and countless lands were his, One jewel lacked for happiness. I seemed to hear the livelong day. The waif's gay laugh and cheery lay, And I thoughtfully mused when day was spent, What a rare, sweet gem is the pearl content. INABILITY. Hither, sweet muse, Inspiration, Though my efforts are in vain; Fill my lonely meditation, With some rare immortal strain. Brightest fancies thou canst kindle, All aglow with heaven born flame. Mine to merest sparks do dwindle. Lines are faulty, rhyme is lame. Ah, though often you should show me Lofty, noble peaks of song, Powerless am I to reach them, I must dwell the vales among. AS JAMIE PASSES BY. "With beating heart, each day I wait, And ever-watchful eye, A-standing at the garden gate As Jamie passes by. Sometimes I whisper in my heart, "Oh, foolish, foolish lass, "What satisfaction can there be, "In watching Jamie pass?" Unanswered still the question is, I can not tell you why, I only know it makes me glad When Jamie passes by. But all unconscious that I watch, Unconscious that I sigh, A-whistling loud and merrily, So Jamie passes by. QUATRAIN. The world's a harp and each one breathes upon it — His son?- of sorrow or his song ol mirth — And some play with a master's vivid touch — And some give naught but rude strains birth. A VISION. He mused upon the world's sad state, Its discontent, its joys so few, Where peace, white peace should dwell in lieu Of wars and strife and endless hate. "Unhappy world, what is thy need?" He upward turned his anxious eyes And prayed that in the star-strewn skies He might the question's answer read. Across the sapphire arch above. It was not "Fame" nor "Wealth" he saw; Spellbound he stood, and with rapt awe Beheld an angel hand trace "Love." ?RIMA LUCE. Sobbing of violin Above the wind and rain; A spirit lurks within. Haunted with longings vain. Heart oppressed by fears, Eyes shadowed with tears, Oh, plaintive Auf Wiedersehn! Glimmering of amber — Upon a gray stone wall. Where the roses clamber Breathing incense o'er all. Pale stars declining. So fades repining. Hope is born anew with dawn. ■Peb-7 leoi (/^'j Jl, g 6 " '^ •301. f-JBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 988 559 8 d