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 COPyRJGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
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Silence and faith availeth much, 
 Though hope be tried by doubt, 
 When charity keeps our souls in touch. 
 Mistakes are blotted out. 
 
FROM THE HILLS 
 
 By MARTHA BUSSERT HOYT 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 Chicago. 111. 
 
 J. H. ABBOTT, Publisher 
 
 1914 
 
^t4 
 
 Copyright, 1914 
 By Martha Bussert Hoyt 
 
 JUL 16 1914 
 
 ©aA3766!)l 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Evolution 
 
 I Am He '0-1 
 
 Live for Today -f 
 
 To a Sir Knight ^ 
 
 The Eastern Star 4- ^ 
 
 The Stone of Colors 6-7 
 
 Destiny ^^"-^ 
 
 Uncle George Rea tT'^l 
 
 Our Nation ^^-^i 
 
 To Yourself ' f 
 
 Story of Lincoln ^^-^i 
 
 The War Horse 32-33 
 
 The Young Soldier ^4-35 
 
 Our Boys i^ 
 
 To the Old Soldiers -^{^ 
 
 I Guess I'll Jine 'Em 38-39 
 
 Grand Old Glory 40-41 
 
 Lead Me Where the Laurels Grow J^j- 
 
 Ohio 43-47 
 
 Old Pickaway I^^ 
 
 The Season en e i 
 
 Childhood Hours ^U-51 
 
 The Old Sugar Trough ^^-\l 
 
 The Dollar Bill Man • ^6 
 
 The Financier -* '',^ 
 
 Rose , , 
 
 Winter A9 A^ 
 
 The Sear Leaves Know <5Z-W 
 
 Can It Be Ai; A7 
 
 My Castle of Clay 65-67 
 
 Some Day 68-69 
 
 Shall We Meet iV 
 
 Alone 
 
 The Message 
 
 71 
 
 72 
 
Edna 73 
 
 The Past and Present 74 
 
 When My Boy Comes 75 
 
 Mr. Cupid 76-77 
 
 The Bell and the Pen 78 
 
 The Bells 79 
 
 What Is Love 80-81 
 
 Silent Love 82 
 
 I Came to Thee 83 
 
 I Am Love 84 
 
 Go, Forget Me 85 
 
 Where's Our Horse 86 
 
 Home Again 87 
 
 To Sena 88 
 
 To Thee and Marie 89 
 
 Lines to Sena 90 
 
 In Memory of Mr. Wright 91 
 
 The Aerial Throne 92 
 
 The Tooth 93 
 
 The Air Bird 94-95 
 
 The Doctor 96-97 
 
 The Hot Water Bottle 98-99 
 
 Lines to Santa Claus 1 00-1 01 
 
 Mr. Santa Claus 1 02-1 03 
 
 Little Mab's Letter 1 04-1 05 
 
 The Deacon 1 06- 1 07 
 
 Adam's Apple 1 08 
 
 The Old Virginia Reel 1 09 
 
 The Lonely Bachelor 110-111 
 
 The Bee and the Clover 112 
 
 The Grasshopper 113 
 
 A Good Reason 114-115 
 
 Lines to a Gossip 116-117 
 
 Ye Can't Get In 118-119 
 
 Short Sayings 120-121 
 
 The Katydid 122 
 
 The Sun and the Rainbow^ 123 
 
 To Anna 1 24 
 
 The Dreamer 125 
 
To My Friends. 
 
EVOLUTION. 
 
 I've crawled from the rocks, the mud and slum, 
 I've dragged through the filth and the mire. 
 
 Fought with the beast, heard the groans of the dumb. 
 As I passed through the fumes and the fire. 
 
 I've mourned with the weak, starving and poor. 
 One with them in the staggering throng; 
 
 I've served as a chord in many a lore; 
 
 I've been robbed of my theme and my song. 
 
 I've stumbled and fell as I hurried along. 
 
 To rise with the meek as I'd go; 
 I've shared with the needy, I've stood with the strong. 
 
 On the hills and the valleys below. 
 
 I've forded the river, sluggish and slow, 
 
 A comrade or sojourner to greet; 
 I've been in the tent where the candle burns low; 
 
 I've sown and I've gathered the wheat. 
 
 I fell among thieves with demons in den ; 
 
 Was slain for my work and my tools; 
 I rose from the shackles and rubbish of men 
 
 To the shrine in the temple of schools. 
 
 All, all the way long I have trusted in God, 
 
 My prayers at His temple I pour; 
 I know what it means, "Pass under the rod;" 
 
 I shall enter the open door. 
 
I AM HE. 
 
 I came through darkness, through chaos I came. 
 Through ages, through mist and through space; 
 
 I had not a form, I had no name. 
 No time, no hght and no place. 
 
 I came through castles of coral so deep 
 
 No storm could disturb my repose; 
 Through mud, through marsh, through willo' th' weep, 
 
 I waked the heart of the rose. 
 
 In mountains, in valley, in jungle, in ore. 
 
 Through treetops and over the wire, 
 I flash the light from ocean to shore; 
 
 In prison, in church, I inspire. 
 
 I pass through the earth, the water and air; 
 
 I hold all the stars in their flight; 
 Thou knowest me not, yet I'm everywhere, 
 
 I'm the power of love, life and light. 
 
 I was before earth or time had begun. 
 
 Or the waters received their decree; 
 I am the torch that lighted the sun. 
 
 And the compass upon the sea. 
 
 10 
 
When the mind is most eloquent, wondrous and free. 
 When most brilliant, I light its pages, 
 
 I write the songs of the bards. I am He! 
 He who vibrates through and through ages. 
 
 Again and again through realms ideal, 
 
 I inspire the dreamer supernal, 
 I am the achievement, the grandeur, the real. 
 
 Light of all lights. The Eternal. 
 
LIVE FOR TODAY. 
 
 Live for today — thy life may be 
 Many, many years for thee; 
 Live for today, it is thine own; 
 The past unto the past is gone. 
 The present hours will flee away. 
 Ah, grasp each moment, bid it stay. 
 The hereafter, it is now; 
 The past and present the future show. 
 The future present soon will be ; 
 The past, the hereafter, the Trinity. 
 For time and tide, the one great whole, 
 Man is eternal, and his soul 
 Leaped forth from all existing thought. 
 Ere time or light from chaos brought. 
 These little garments we call clay. 
 Why should we hesitate to lay 
 Away these shackles? Let them fall. 
 Pass on to greater worlds than all 
 We'er have passed or seen before. 
 On, on through boundless ever more. 
 On, on where angels' feet hath trod; 
 We'll still pass on, we're one with God. 
 
 12 
 
TO A SIR KNIGHT. 
 
 Great is the knight who rules the stars by word; 
 Yet we mistake not when we say he hath a sword; 
 A soldier drilled in silent ranks of might. 
 Oh. thou ancient, free and accepted knight. 
 
 If it be Fate that placed within thy ready hand 
 The stars to rule, and at thy will command 
 Their course to change and search each dark ravine. 
 Thus to penetrate the very germs of sin. 
 
 Then thanks to Fate whose good wisdom did select 
 A knight of old in teachings most correct. 
 From age to age, builders of character and art. 
 Fashioned their temple in the human heart. 
 
 Each atom filled its place the most and best; 
 
 Each stone was shaped to center and surround the rest. 
 
 Selected of the fittest, the great and least, 
 
 Builded by the Wise Men of the East. 
 
 Eternal living temple composed of all in all. 
 Time will ne'er erase thee nor cause thy fall; 
 Began in the beginning, plumb and on the square. 
 Each angle tried within bounds, each on the level there. 
 
 Thus unto us is given for the good and right 
 Those whom we feel most fitted ; we welcome thee, Sir Knight 
 We trust in thy achievements, we believe in thee, thy sword 
 May each star do thy bidding, each hearken to thy word. 
 
 13 
 
THE EASTERN STAR. 
 
 They may speak of the sun and its splendor. 
 
 Of its glorious hght so sublime. 
 Of its beams so soft and so tender; 
 
 They may hmit the world by its time. 
 
 They may say we can't live without it. 
 Shining down through ages afar; 
 
 It may be true, I've no reason to doubt it. 
 But give me the bright Eastern Star. 
 
 The sun falls asleep every day. 
 
 When the long golden bars span the West; 
 Then they say it is sinking away 
 
 On the soft bosomed sea for a rest. 
 
 The Star never sleeps, but shines on. 
 As it rests on the mande of blue; 
 
 'Twill guide you through danger alone; 
 Its soft rays will light you safe through. 
 
 It may hide 'neath a dark purple cloud. 
 
 And pretend it is no star at all. 
 But if faint or oppressed in a crowd. 
 
 It will shine o'er the heads of them all. 
 
 14 
 
And when the bright sun has gone down, 
 And night her dark robes does unfold. 
 
 Then, O Star, thou art still shining on. 
 And thy rays are more precious than gold. 
 
 Then we thank thee again. Eastern Star, 
 For guiding us safe o'er the way. 
 
 And we pray that nothing shall mar, 
 Or take from thy splendor one ray. 
 
 Shine with us, O bright Star, shine on. 
 
 Send thy deep searching rays everywhere; 
 
 May the All-Seeing Eye guide the one 
 Who keeps within bounds on the square. 
 
 15 
 
THE STONE OF COLORS. 
 
 Only a mineral, yet it brought 
 To my lonely heart a vision, a thought. 
 Recalling each age as it passed before 
 The mineral key to the golden ore. 
 
 I read the mineral until it led 
 
 My heart along, and still I read 
 
 Piece by piece till it did seem 
 
 The master of mines mastered my dream. 
 
 I gazed on the colors mingled there; 
 From out the earth they came so fair; 
 Through centuries, through rocks and mould. 
 Came the rainbow colors, came hoards of gold. 
 
 Like the early dawn in purple and gray. 
 The rose of morning, the blue of day, 
 ^11 that was, that ever has been. 
 From age to age, came to me then. 
 
 And, as I dreamed, I stood in space. 
 And saw each atom take its place. 
 Swiftly gathering from everywhere. 
 Like birds of passage through the air. 
 
 Fashioned and moulded in every part, 
 They formed the center of Earth's heart. 
 Blending and reblending again 
 The heart of earth in the hearts of men. 
 
 16 
 
I saw the light from the sparkhng mine 
 O'er the deep like the sapphire shine ; 
 The word of God and his presence true 
 Filled all space in the turquoise blue. 
 
 I saw a human chain, as it were. 
 
 Bring to the surface treasures rare; 
 
 It seemed they were searching for something lost. 
 
 Something they might have valued most. 
 
 Each one silently doing his part. 
 As though drilled in science and in art. 
 Drilled to gather the precious stones. 
 Each to shape and circle his own. 
 
 As onward they gather and upward they go. 
 The temple is builded that each one may know 
 The soul of the builder, the merits within. 
 From whence he came, his triumph o'er sin. 
 
 Man is the builder, God the divine; 
 His work the temple, his spirit the shrine; 
 Out of the future the ancient again 
 Returns to the present, the wisdom of men. 
 
 So as they gather, "So mote it be," 
 
 So they shall shine in eternity. 
 
 So are the jewels from earth's bosom wrought; 
 
 Man is the finisher, God the thought. 
 
 17 
 
CLAY IDOL. 
 
 A teacher and ruler, counsel and guide. 
 All upon earth in thee to confide, 
 A comfort in sorrow, my hope of success, 
 A star in my pathway, onward to press. 
 
 The knowledge thy heart has conceived, O Man ! 
 Would enlighten the world if allowed to expand ; 
 The volumes of truth sublime in thy soul, 
 A mascot on ocean, a light on the shoal. 
 
 What matters it then if the world was denied 
 One favor granted, a seat by thy side; 
 To listen and drink from a fountain like this. 
 Angels would covet my portion of bliss. 
 
 That seat is denied and hope is assailed ; 
 My heart and its idol forever have paled; 
 It leaves but the ashes for me to deplore; 
 I'll seek for my mascot, my idol, no more. 
 
 O God! I have followed this vision so long. 
 It lived in my dreams, was with me in song, 
 A part of my hfe, a part of my soul; 
 My clay covered idol, a phantom, my goal. 
 
 18 
 
Must I from this idol my soul tear away. 
 And is there no power to animate clay, 
 No hope to return again to sweet bliss? 
 Oh, who can express an anguish like this? 
 
 I catch at the shadows that pass by my door; 
 I grasp and I clasp empty air — nothing more; 
 The being I loved, my idol, my all. 
 Discerns not, returns not, my wail or my call. 
 
 The door that's between us swings out and is closed. 
 And what is beyond is hoped or supposed. 
 For silence reigns long and her secret keeps well. 
 And whoever saw either Heaven or Hell? 
 
 19 
 
FATE. 
 
 Thrown out on raging seas alone. 
 To battle with Fate's stem decree, 
 
 As surely as the stars have shown 
 My star shall still shine on for me. 
 
 This iron fate still bears me on 
 
 O'er troubled waters deep and dark; 
 
 I fear not, though I stand alone; 
 Nothing can wreck my little bark. 
 
 Oh, where shall end the power of fate. 
 And whither rolls the maddening sea? 
 
 Tho' time and tide for no man wait. 
 Shall terror wind its spell 'round me? 
 
 I know not where my boat will land; 
 
 I know not what awaits for me ; 
 I only know strong is the hand 
 
 That leads, or seems my guide to be. 
 
 I thought one time I saw a home, 
 
 A stately form stood beckoning me. 
 
 But later on out in the gloom 
 
 A phantom shadow played at sea. 
 
 20 
 
I fainting fell upon the deck; 
 
 My heartstrings snapped — alone to be. 
 Then bounding o'er the little wreck, 
 
 Its blood was spilt upon the sea. 
 
 And still I drift — I'm drifting o'er 
 This dark and sad and lonely sea; 
 
 No boat is near — I see no shore — 
 And yet I know one waits for me. 
 
 Ah, yes, the chain of fate around, 
 That seemed so cruel once to me. 
 
 Doth hold my star in honor bound 
 To share my future destiny. 
 
 I stay not time whose wing and flight 
 All things, even I, wait, I wait; 
 
 What stately ship hath seen no night. 
 And who can change the power of fate? 
 
 21 
 
DESTINY. 
 
 I watched by the side of those who slept, 
 And saw the tide of life flow on, 
 
 While the shadow of death over them crept. 
 And night drew near — the spirit was gone. 
 
 I turned the pillow for the aching head; 
 
 I brushed the tear from the sunken cheek; 
 I folded the weary hands of the dead; 
 
 A word to comfort the friends would speak. 
 
 I bathed the forehead of the pallid hue; 
 
 I closed the eyes in their sightless gaze 
 And the lips which whispered their last adieu 
 
 That death had kissed in his cold embrace. 
 
 I heard the wail of the mourner's heart. 
 The sighs and sorrow too deep to tell. 
 
 When the chords of love were torn apart. 
 And the dead was left alone to dwell. 
 
 And I have nursed them back to health. 
 
 When it seemed as though the river was near; 
 
 I've seen the havocs in homes of wealth. 
 
 And my soul has gone out the sad to cheer. 
 
 22 
 
Once I had said my life should be 
 
 Passed with the hungry, the sick and poor. 
 
 But this I have learned— our destiny 
 
 Is sealed by the power that ruleth o'er. 
 
 Today I'm traveling a different road 
 
 Than that which seemed laid out for me, 
 
 And I often wonder and wonder if God 
 Is as near to me as he used to be. 
 
 Yes, what was mine is still my own. 
 For He who guides me day by day 
 
 Will leave me not, but lead me on; 
 Nothing can change His word or way. 
 
 23 
 
UNCLE GEORGE REA. 
 
 Out among the mountains where the lofty peaks glow. 
 And the cataracts from the sun leap, 
 
 Where nature so kindly blends flowers with snow. 
 As she pillows her children to sleep. 
 
 Out where the sage bushes grow and the pine. 
 
 Where the magpie warbles all day. 
 Where the long golden lights so mystically shine 
 
 On the river of purple and gray. 
 
 There by the river in a cabin alone 
 
 Lived a soldier, a scout and guide; 
 Noble and loyal and true to his own. 
 
 He grew hungry and ill and died. 
 
 The restless Snake River turned on its bed 
 
 As it passed by the old cabin door. 
 And listlessly murmured, "The old guide is dead; 
 
 He crossed to the far away shore." 
 
 The fleet-footed red man crept cautiously out 
 
 To see if it really was true; 
 The panther and owl screamed loudly about. 
 
 And near to the old cabin drew. 
 
 24 
 
The big grizzly stole through the half-open door 
 
 To take a sniff at the gun; 
 Then carelessly stretched himself on the floor. 
 
 And peacefully slept in the sun. ^ 
 
 So passed the life of Uncle George Rea; 
 
 The old cabin knows him no more; 
 The Snake River murmurs ; sometimes they see 
 
 A light on the far-away shore. 
 
 On the far-away shore sometimes they see 
 The form of a tall, stately man. 
 
 And then they say, "Uncle George Rea 
 Is waiting to guide us again." 
 
 25 
 
OUR NATION. 
 
 Step by step our great Republic 
 
 Rose in honor, grand and true, 
 Striped our banner, white and crimson, 
 
 Starred each state within the blue; 
 And iJ- .C5 stars all sing together, 
 
 We as one united stand; 
 Peace and unity forever 
 
 Shall protect our glorious land. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Glorious country, grand Republic, 
 
 Live for laurels nobly won ; 
 Peace shall live, proclaims our banner. 
 
 In God we trust. Our Flag ! Live on. 
 
 Shining down through sacred pages, 
 
 We see the morning star again; 
 Our hope is on the Rock of Ages, 
 
 Light of truth and faith in men. 
 O chosen country! Land of Promise! 
 
 Let our hearts leap forth and sing. 
 Hail the colleges, schools, the churches. 
 
 Where thy joyful praises ring. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Glorious country, grand Republic, 
 
 Live for laurels nobly won. 
 Live for principle and honor. 
 
 Leading upward, leading on. 
 
 26 
 
Hail unto our States United, 
 
 Let our voices reach afar, 
 Give our heroes all the glory; 
 
 Each one is a guiding star 
 For our progress and achievements. 
 
 For our Union, home and land; 
 Thanks to God, they saved our nation ; 
 
 They immortalized shall stand. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Glorious country, grand Republic, 
 
 Live for laurels nobly won. 
 Live for peace and human progress; 
 
 Thy stars for ages shall shine on. 
 
 27 
 
TO YOURSELF. 
 
 Here's to yourself, may you with us be seen 
 Long, long after the grass on your grave is green ; 
 May you Hve till the moon in her course shall sway. 
 Live till the stars shall have vanished away. 
 
 Live till the sun its last ray has burned. 
 Live till the old earth to new ones have turned. 
 Till myriads and myriads of years have gone o'er. 
 Live, live forever with those lived before. 
 
 Live through the lone and the silent shades. 
 Live where life and beauty ne'er fades. 
 Live to lift the veil of the great unknown. 
 Live to reach the realms where all is known. 
 
 Live till the strong arm of death is stayed. 
 Live to hear the voice, "It is I, be not afraid," 
 Live to lead others where loved ones have trod. 
 Live for humanity and the glory of God. 
 
 28 
 
STORY OF LINCOLN. 
 
 Did I know Lincoln? Well, I should say I did. I remember 
 when I was a boy he came to our house to survey a piece of land 
 that he said was out of line, an* the hottest debate I ever heard was 
 Abe and Mike Foley over the question of whisky. Mike sorter liked 
 a nip, you know. Mike was witty and full of honest points in his 
 way of thinkin' an' people kinder looked up to him in them days, but 
 Mike liked his little nip in the morning. They was at our house at the 
 time. Mike was a neighbor of our'n an' he was helpin* to move a 
 fence that Abe said was out o' line. It was a stake and rider fence 
 and Mike he dug the holes and set the stakes, you see. Abe drawed 
 it off with a grape vine an' I saw my father lay the first rail and put 
 a stone under each comer, zigzag — what they called a worm fence. 
 My! but wa'ant Abe tall and gangly? You orter seen the crows 
 leavin' that ol' cornfield. I told father I wished he'd stay till after 
 the corn was laid by, but he didn't. He just straddled right over 
 that there fence and set out for ol' man Cramer's place, a little further 
 down the road. Then father called to him and said, "Hadn't ye 
 better come back and take dinner with us today? It's nigh onto 
 twelve now an' you won't be likely to get anything to eat at Cramer's 
 'cause the old man told me yisterday that they were about to break 
 out with the smallpox. He said they had 'em over to Jones' to be 
 exposed, as they wanted to have it while the weather was nice." Abe 
 stopped for a minute and dropped his grapevine, took out a big blue 
 and white bordered handkerchief and mopped his face and neck ; then 
 looked up at the sun, then turned to father and said, "Well, I guess 
 I will." Then he stretched up and my! but he looked tall. Why, 
 I believe that man could stretch seven inches without ever raisin' his 
 heels from the ground, an' when he reached down to pick up that 
 grapevine his arms was so long that he didn't need to bend his knees, 
 an' I said, "Oh, father, that looks like a place left for a pair of bars, 
 only the top rail is up." Then my father said, "That man's a sur- 
 
 29 
 
veyor and he needs long arms. Now, you go on to the bam an' 
 feed them there horses seven ears of corn apiece an' give that httle 
 sorrel colt three. Then you go to the house and tell your mother that 
 Abe Lincoln, the man that surveyed our line, will be here for dinner, 
 an' you had better go to the smoke house an' get one o' them there 
 big hams that we saved for company and tell your mother to fry 
 plenty. An' here, you'd better take a dozen o' them eggs with you 
 from them nests up in the haymow; they are new laid today. Now 
 see how fast you can run." I looked again for the bars, but they 
 was gone an' a big tall man was comin' toward me with a grapevine 
 hangin' on his arm. Then I run and fed the horses and took the eggs 
 into the house an' told mother that Abe Lincoln was comin' in with 
 father. Then I got the ham in, an' mother said I should go up in the 
 loft and get a crock o' them there quince preserves we brought with 
 us from Ohio and a cake o' that there maple sugar in the box at the 
 top o' the ladder. But as I was comin' down the ladder I missed 
 a round an' the way them there preserves went over that floor — well ! 
 I spilt most half of them; then I put some goose grease on my elbow 
 and started to clean up the floor. Then I scoured out the old wash 
 pan an' put it on the bench by the well and drawed a bucket o' water. 
 By that time mother had dinner ready. Then the men came in from 
 the barn. "Yes," said father, "that gray mare is as good as gold, 
 but you orter seen her when I first got her. She was nothing but 
 bone. I got her from some people who come here from Stark County, 
 Ohio. They settled along the river near Ottawa, I think, but I got 
 a bargain in that gray mare." "Sure, an' I never knowed you to get 
 anything else but bargains," says Mike, "an' we've been neighbors 
 for tin years." "Hold on there, Mike," says father, "don't you 
 remember when we got the kegs mixed comin' home from Spring- 
 field, and you got the whisky and I got the molasses, an' I have stuck 
 to my molasses keg ever since," says father. "An' I to mine," says 
 Mike, "an' there's nothing like a good nip in the morning," says Mike. 
 Then Mike and Abe had their debate on temperance, an' the way 
 
 30 
 
that tall man talked temperance and of the effects that whisky had on 
 people an' on our country! I will never forget that big speech, for 
 that is just what it was. Why, Mr. Lincoln looked different to me 
 after that talk with Mike Foley. I will never forget his voice and 
 his countenance. What force he had in his voice, and the words he 
 used! No wonder he got to be president. He was a man from his 
 toes to his linger lips, an' that was a long ways; an' the way them 
 long arms swept through the air ! I shall never forget that day. Say, 
 did you ever see a hawk sail through the hot summer sky, so smooth, 
 so still, that it seemed to balance on nothing, with one wing pointin' 
 toward the sun, while the other seemed to cover the whole earth; 
 then cut a circle over a hen coop? My! how them chickens would 
 scatter for the cornfield and canebrake! Well, Mr. Lincoln was no 
 hawk, but he might have been called the biggest eagle that ever 
 spread its wings over America, an' when he stretched out that long 
 |arm and with one stroke of his finger upset them there coops, why 
 you never heard such a cacklin' of freedom. It seemed to go clean 
 'round the world, an', boys, I believe it's goin' yet. Yes, sir! Such 
 men live on an' on in our memories, and we love to think of 'em. 
 
 And when we think of Washington, 
 
 Of Lincoln, and others, too. 
 And think of the boys that carried the gun. 
 
 And fought for me and you — 
 
 These are the Stars that starred our flag. 
 
 And placed it high in air. 
 And our hearts leap up for that grand old rag. 
 
 So, boys, we'll keep it there. 
 
 31 
 
THE WAR HORSE. 
 
 Now, Mr. Meeker, don't you think 
 You'd be more meeker still 
 
 If you would jist sit back a ways. 
 An' let them soldiers drill? 
 
 I ain't no soldier, but I feel 
 
 Indignant when they say 
 Them there horses gets a spiel 
 
 On Decoration Day. 
 
 I look on it as a disgrace, 
 
 Reflection on our flag; 
 Our city's comin' down a pace 
 
 From which we uster brag. 
 
 Where's all them men I voted for — 
 Commissioners and Mayor — you 
 
 Allow these things to come before 
 Our Army grand an' true? 
 
 I uster think Decoration Day 
 
 Was kinder laid aside 
 For them there men that saved our f 
 
 An' them that for it died. 
 
 But now, by gum, it's sportin' day. 
 An' racin' here and there ; 
 
 The sacred part's most past away, 
 An', somehow, some don't care. 
 
 32 
 
Now, Mr, Mayor, git a move. 
 
 Come down along the line; 
 Let your good principles and love 
 
 For the old soldiers shine. 
 
 Come I Put your horses all away ; 
 
 Let the soldiers march instead; 
 Keep sacred Decoration Day 
 
 For the living an' the dead. 
 
 An' as that blue line sweeps along. 
 
 My heart kinder stans still. 
 An' I think of the march down to the sea. 
 
 An' the fight at Bunker Hill. 
 
 An* then somehow my hat comes off; 
 
 On the name of God I call. 
 That our old flag may stay aloft 
 
 An' glorify us all. 
 
 One word to Mr. Soldier Blue, 
 
 Before we say good night. 
 United States belongs to you; 
 
 You won it in the fight. 
 
 33 
 
THE YOUNG SOLDIER. 
 
 If I was a great big soldier. 
 
 Or a soldier man at all, 
 I wouldn't want these puffed up folks 
 
 To meet me first of all. 
 
 I'd want the private soldier, 
 Who stood by me with a gun. 
 
 An' fought and risked his life with me. 
 An' didn't git skeered an' run. 
 
 I'd send 'em word I'd be in their town, 
 An' I'd want each feller to come 
 
 From the General an' the Captain down 
 To the boy that beat the drum. 
 
 I'd want to see these fellers first, 
 An' grab 'em by the hands. 
 
 An' say, "I'm glad to see you, boss. 
 Thank God, our old ship stands." 
 
 An' I'd want to eat and drink with 'em. 
 
 As we all did in the fight ; 
 Them boys in blue was loyal an' true. 
 
 An' I'd want to treat 'em right. 
 
 Yes, they kin git right next my heart. 
 
 An' underneath my coat — 
 Them there boys that took a part 
 
 In the battle on the boat. 
 
 34 
 
They seem kinder near to me, 
 An' I don't know jist why, 
 But when them very boys I see, 
 The smoke gits in my eye. 
 
 An' I'd wanter see the widow 
 
 Whose son was her only support; 
 
 He went right out in the worst of the fight. 
 An' never got back to our fort. 
 
 An' when I think of these here things, 
 
 A lump comes up in my throat. 
 An' I can't talk, an' I lose the strings 
 
 An' the sails flop down on the boat. 
 
 An' then I git so lonesome. 
 
 An' a mist before me will come. 
 When I think of them boys that went to the war 
 
 An' didn't live to get home. 
 
 An' I often see the empty chair 
 
 In the office where a young man set. 
 
 An' I say, "If it warn't for the war. 
 That young feller'd be with us yet." 
 
 These things are awful sad to me. 
 An' I don't feel like laughin' at all 
 
 When I think of them boys that used to be 
 In front of the cannon ball. 
 
 35 
 
OUR BOYS. 
 
 When I think of our nation, grand and true. 
 And the flag, our country's pride. 
 
 When I think of the long hne marching through. 
 And the boys, the boys who died — 
 
 When I think of the cannon's awful roar. 
 
 The sword, the shell and gun, 
 I'm glad that terrible battle's o'er. 
 
 That in peace we may live on. 
 
 That Dixie's line has passed away. 
 
 Our glorious country's free; 
 United stands the blue and gray 
 
 In Love and Harmony. 
 
 God bless the boys in blue, we say. 
 
 The victory nobly won ; 
 God love and bless the boys in gray. 
 
 United now as one. 
 
 36 
 
TO THE OLD SOLDIERS. 
 
 How grand is our country, how noble its call; 
 
 All nations, all creeds, are invited; 
 Independence and freedom extended to all 
 
 Where the stars and stripes are united. 
 
 Grand Army Republic, old soldiers in blue. 
 You we can thank for our story; 
 
 You for our flag, for our nation so true. 
 You are the light of Old Glory. 
 
 Arise and proclaim, hear, hear ye afar. 
 Our vigil shall ever be burning; 
 
 The stripes of Old Glory shall ne'er lose a star. 
 While the world on its axle is turning. 
 
 How radiant gleams our flag from afar. 
 How peaceful it waves o'er the portals. 
 
 How brilliant the gleam of each guiding star — 
 The hope of American mortals. 
 
 37 
 
I GUESS I'LL JINE 'EM. 
 
 I guess I'll jine them army men 
 
 Who tell that awful story 
 'Bout them times the war begen. 
 
 An' how they saved Old Glory. 
 
 They say that more'n two million men 
 
 Made answer to that call. 
 Some of them got home again. 
 
 An' some never come at all. 
 
 Two millions sounds like a hull lot. 
 But, boys, I guess it's true; 
 
 Livin' witnesses they got 
 
 Who was in it through and through. 
 
 That's been so awful long ago. 
 An' fightin s most died out, 
 
 But I may stand a little show 
 Of tellin' it about. 
 
 Now since the war is passed away. 
 
 An' all the fightin's done, 
 I'll soldier 'round here every day. 
 
 An' tell 'em how we won. 
 
 'Cause everybody ort to know 
 
 How that big war begun. 
 An' what our people all went through. 
 
 An' why our flag waves on. 
 
 38 
 
I ain't no talker, but I'll do 
 My best with all my might 
 
 To help along them soldiers blue. 
 An' keep their campfires bright. 
 
 When I was here the other day. 
 Some one said, "Where be 
 
 All them flags they took away?" 
 "Gone to church," says he. 
 
 Well, I just don't want to brag. 
 But I'll tell you, one and all, 
 
 Every man's a spangled flag 
 Who braved that cannon ball. 
 
 An' now, if you'll just let me in, 
 Beneath Old Glory hover, 
 
 I'll be as peaceful as I kin. 
 
 An' we'll talk the hull thing over. 
 
 39 
 
GRAND OLD GLORY. 
 
 Grand Old Glory, Grand Old Glory, 
 Raise thy proud head to the sky. 
 
 As thy colors tell a story. 
 And each star a victory. 
 
 Crimson are thy stripes before us. 
 
 O'er the white of purity. 
 While the blue field hovering o'er us 
 
 Holds the stars of liberty. 
 
 Emblem of our loved who perished, 
 Those who gave their lives for thee, 
 
 Grand Old Glory, thee we cherish. 
 Cherish thou eternally. 
 
 When we clasped thee to our bosom. 
 When we let thy colors wave. 
 
 When we mingled thee with blossoms 
 O'er our lonely comrades' graves — 
 
 When in solitude and sorrow. 
 Longing for our loved ones dear. 
 
 Then the past through thee we borrow. 
 For thou bringest all things near. 
 
 Thou art of the past and future. 
 One with us o'er a hundred years; 
 
 Every element of nature 
 
 Thou has mingled with our tears. 
 
 40 
 
Thou, Old Glory, thou Old Glory, 
 Live thou in the hearts of men; 
 
 To the young and to the hoary 
 Tell thy story o'er again. 
 
 On o'er victory and sadness 
 Wave thou on o'er sacred sod. 
 
 On through love and peace and gladness 
 To the portals of our God. 
 
 Through the blue abyss above us. 
 On, on through that eternal dome. 
 
 On till those w^ho wait and love us 
 Catch our colors coming home. 
 
 There again to be united. 
 
 Where all colors blend in one; 
 
 In that home forever lighted 
 
 By the countenance of His Son. 
 
 4t 
 
LEAD ME WHERE THE LAURELS GROW. 
 
 Lead me where the laurels grow. 
 Back to my old home let me go, 
 When the sun comes dancing in at morn, 
 Peeping through blades of yellow corn. 
 Where babbling brooks and waters clear 
 Are music to the native ear. 
 With forests deep and meadows wide, 
 Ohio State — thou art my pride. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Then lead me where the laurels grow. 
 Back to my old home I must go. 
 To God's own land that gave me birth — 
 Ohio, dearest place on earth ! 
 
 Methinks I see a church again — 
 
 The meeting house, they called it then — 
 
 WTiere all denominations came; 
 
 Old Mount Union was its name. 
 
 Built in a forest on a hill, 
 
 A meeting house without a bell ; 
 
 From Laurel leaves the choir sang 
 
 Praises to God and the old church rang. 
 
 There from that old church on the hill 
 The songs vibrate and echo still; 
 Fresh laurel leaves are waiting yet 
 To crown the brow that can't forget; 
 Then lead me back to hear again 
 The remnants of that sweet refrain. 
 To that old state forever new. 
 Where laurels wait her people true. 
 
 42 
 
OHIO. 
 
 Am I a Buckeye? Well, I should say I am. Our folks took 
 up land in Ohio before it was laid out in counties and they say they 
 had to carry a firebrand with them to keep the wolves away when they 
 went to hunt the cows. I don't know, but it seems to me that the 
 Government man must have been a pretty nice sort of a fellow to give 
 all them animals in with the land. They don't do it nowadays when 
 you buy land. Why, if they leave on old broom they are back after 
 the handle. Then look at all them there big trees he give 'em, wanut 
 and elm, oak, poplar, ash and sycamore, but the sweetest and best 
 was the maple. My ! but wasn't that syrup lickin' good ? But now 
 they've gone and cut all them there trees down just for the sake of 
 another row of corn or maybe a pumpkin got stuck in between some 
 of them and they had to cut them down. I don't know. But they're 
 all gone, not even a stump; blowed 'em out, they say. It's mighty 
 funny ; it didn't used to blow like that when we lived there. I thought 
 maybe they wouldn't blow the old spring out, but they did and they've 
 got a well there now. Gee, but wouldn't I like a drink out of that 
 old spring? Ah, many was the time we dipped the long-handled 
 gourd in the clear, bubbling water so cold, while the drippings like 
 diamonds we'd catch, and the sunshine played through it, around it, 
 about it, and changed the old gourd to a scepter of gold. 
 
 Then on through the milkhouse it gurgled and chattered. 
 Beneath the big willow it murmured and flowed 
 
 Into a long trough, where the horses were watered. 
 That stood by the bridge at the side of the road. 
 
 Beyond the old bridge it turned round the hill. 
 And made for the boys a deep swimming pool ; 
 
 Then onward it hurried and raced for the mill. 
 
 And ground all our flour when we went to school. 
 
 43 
 
But where are the mounds and fortresses strong 
 Of Pickaway County and our forefathers long, 
 And where is the red man who hunted the doe, 
 And lived in the wigwam so long, long ago. 
 
 We'll dig up the mounds and scatter the stones; 
 Through old Circleville we'll carry the bones ; 
 We'll bring them all back and we'll make it so plain; 
 We'll live it all over and we'll see them again. 
 
 Again in the forest we'll hear the wolf's howl. 
 The scream of the panther and the black bear growl ; 
 See Tippecanoe as he floats on the river 
 In color so true he lives on forever. 
 
 The huts and the cabins again we all see. 
 That our forefathers builded for you and for me 
 When they took up the land and cut the big oak. 
 And planted the corn in the new ground they broke. 
 
 We see a log schoolhouse and church both in one ; 
 The graveyard is by it and there's the slab stone; 
 We read on the stone, all mildewed and gray. 
 The names of our forefathers long passed away. 
 
 From the huts they have builded are mansions today. 
 And round the log schoolhouse college boys play ; 
 They builded on freedom and true character. 
 And their emblems of victory wave in the air. 
 
 44 
 
On the banks of old Salt Creek a man with white hair 
 Is fishing alone — it's my forefather there ; 
 He came to the State when all things were new, 
 Not even a county, and I'm proud of it, too. 
 
 To me he lives always my father of old. 
 Though the slab at his grave is turning to mould; 
 He lives in the minds of his people, you see. 
 His children, their children, my father and me. 
 
 I saw the first glow of morning's rosy light 
 Sweep o'er the ocean and earth's glittering dew. 
 
 Touching the grandeur of the mountain white. 
 And on her bosom leave a crimson hue. 
 
 I saw the sun into the canyons shine. 
 
 The depths of awfulness therein to view; 
 
 A wondrous feeling of the power divine 
 
 Pierced my very being through and through. 
 
 And when the sun sank in the Golden West, 
 I saw the shadows of the mountain play 
 
 Upon the waters gushing from her breast. 
 And o'er the meadows reaching far away. 
 
 And then I heard the magpie's mellow song. 
 Piping in the sages to its loving mate; 
 
 The evening shadows grew more dark and long. 
 The gleaming stars pronounced the hour late. 
 
 45 
 
The moon serenely held her place on high. 
 
 And on that beauteous landscape seemed to dote; 
 
 A vapor vision swiftly passed me by 
 
 And whispered: "Write it; write it," and I wrote. 
 
 Wrote of my people, of my childhood home. 
 Of the old church where I used to go, 
 
 Of the valleys wherein I longed to roam. 
 
 Of each and all of whom I loved and know. 
 
 Of that old state forever dear to me, 
 
 Of its winding rivers murmuring soft and low, 
 
 And again the forest deep and dark I see; 
 My heart leaped up and back to her I go. 
 
 And as upon my native soil I stand. 
 
 Where first the morning sunbeams welcome me. 
 
 No mountain chain or ocean's shining sand 
 Can keep my heart and mind away from thee. 
 
 Though all the trees are cleared away and, lo ! 
 
 Strange are the faces round my childhood's door; 
 No bubbling spring awaits for me, I know. 
 
 Yet soul responds to soul forever more. 
 
 And as I grasp each comrade by the hand 
 In the old familiar way of childhood's years. 
 
 No words are spoken, yet we understand. 
 
 And wreathe the face in smiles to hide the tears. 
 
 46 
 
Changed on the surface may the old State be, 
 
 But loyal is its heart unto the core ; 
 Her wells, though deep, are flowing full and free; 
 
 Her sparkling waters reach the farthest shore. 
 
 As we drink from out the brimming bowl. 
 Which overflows to all who gather here. 
 
 The tide of time a century back we roll. 
 
 And hold old Ohio to our hearts more dear. 
 
 47 
 
OLD PICKAWAY. 
 
 They may speak of old gin, of brandy and whisky, 
 But its Pickaway County that makes you feel frisky. 
 Where all the barrel houses are dry as a bone. 
 And the owners are hobbling about with a groan ; 
 Where the people are healthy and finer than silk. 
 And the water flows clear and they live upon milk, 
 "We are all coming home in October," they say, 
 A century's milestone for Old Pickaway, 
 
 Chorus. 
 Oh, you state of Ohio, salt of the earth ; 
 Oh, you Pickaway County with beauty and worth; 
 Oh, you waters that Harmony governs so clear; 
 Oh, you people so loyal who never knew fear. 
 
 You wouldn't think Pickaway was a hundred or more; 
 
 Why, she doesn't look fifty, not even a score. 
 
 But she's a centurian as sure as you're bom. 
 
 And her diet is chiefly of pumpkins and corn. 
 
 Her beauty she holds as time passes by. 
 
 No matter if all her big cities go dry, 
 
 Sciota and Salt Creek are murmuring her praise. 
 
 And lend to her beauty their valleys and haze. 
 
 Oh, you state of Ohio, as I said before. 
 No matter although you're a hundred or more. 
 You're always the youngest and fairest to me; 
 I loved you, I still love, you plainly can see. 
 Wherever I wander, where'er I may roam, 
 WTien they speak of Ohio, I say "That's my home." 
 In Pickaway County I'm longing to be. 
 The old Buckeye State is a mother to me. 
 
 48 
 
THE SEASON. 
 
 Hey! Hey! there, by gum. the season has come. 
 The boats are all out for the sailor, 
 
 Easter cards past, new hats at last. 
 And I'll make a dash for the tailor. 
 
 A sail 'long the shore. I would like nothing more 
 Than the sweet scented blossoms to gather. 
 
 With two in a bunch, a nice little lunch. 
 Providing we have fine weather. 
 
 Then rig up the boat and outward we Hoat 
 
 To gather the flower that's nearest. 
 Down by the old sloop where the white lilies droop 
 
 And the song bird's notes are the clearest. 
 
 On. on by the grove and that willowy cove. 
 
 Where mingle the songs with the blossoms. 
 Where the water laps slow, murmuring low, 
 
 Away, far away, on its bosom. 
 
 Away, Away, sail through sunshine and gale. 
 Through mist and golden bars beaming; 
 
 Beyond the seacomb, its crest and its foam. 
 To the beautiful home of our dreaming. 
 
 49 
 
CHILDHOOD HOURS. 
 
 Born in the country, lived on a farm. 
 Where the tall willows waved their long arm, 
 'Neath the green branches little brook strayed. 
 There in childhood hours I played. 
 
 Up with sunbeams when berries were red. 
 Calling me early out of my bed; 
 Putting the ripest with dew to my lips. 
 Staining my apron and small finger tips. 
 
 Watching the bars and gathering the sheaves. 
 Making new hats of sycamore leaves; 
 Building play houses out of bar rails. 
 Carrying water in little tin pails. 
 
 Watching the bees, they may swarm and go. 
 Stealing some sugar because they said "No." 
 Scratching a neighbor boy's face till he cries, 
 'Cause he walked over my little mud pies. 
 
 Bringing the cows when the sun's in the West, 
 Scaring a setting hen from her nest; 
 
 Breaking the eggs to see the inside, 
 Gone to the neighbors just for a ride. 
 
 Taking my dolly out for a walk, 
 "Say, little dolly, why don't you talk?" 
 'Long comes a wagon loaded with bags. 
 Wants to buy dolly 'cause she was rags. 
 
 50 
 
Going to school when the weather was warm. 
 Over the hill at the end of the farm; 
 A little bit tardy, yes, I was late, 
 Waiting for Hardy down by the gate. 
 
 Red headed schoolm'am — Oh, what a boss, 
 Why is it old maid's always are cross; 
 "Must stand in the comer — was naughty — " she said. 
 And study my lesson while other folks read. 
 
 Methodist church one mile below. 
 We must stay home, big folks all go, 
 Have a big meeting, neighbors all pray. 
 Each take the preacher home for a day. 
 
THE OLD SUGAR TROUGH. 
 
 I care not for the sparkle in scepters of gold, 
 Or the nectar which the Cherubims sip. 
 
 But give me the water refreshing and cold. 
 As it dropped from the sugar spile's lip. 
 
 Again I look down in the log sugar trough 
 And my face in the curved bottom see. 
 
 As I swing on a grape vine suspended aloft, 
 Or a branch of the sassafras tree. 
 
 At the foot of the hill is the old sugar camp 
 
 And the kettles all hang in a row. 
 Within are the bunks, and the beef tallow lamp 
 
 Grows dim as it flickers down low. 
 
 The oxen and sled with the trained hunting dogs 
 Are shedded with fodder and straw. 
 
 Behind the embankment of big walnut logs. 
 
 Which were cleared from the new ground to saw. 
 
 All night the stone furnace is heaped in red coals. 
 O'er the chimney the sparks rise and hover; 
 
 While the big forest trees a strong fortress holds. 
 With their branches o'erhead as a cover. 
 
 Reflected on bushes on branches and hill. 
 Long shadows like phantoms we see. 
 
 While again with a gourd the kettles we fill. 
 With the sap of the big sugar tree. 
 
 52 
 
We trace out the shadows as each come and go. 
 
 O'er our corn cakes we pour the hot sap; 
 In front of the furnace while the chestnuts roast slow 
 
 And we nod in a short, dreamy nap. 
 
 We dream of the Indians who gave us a fright 
 When they came to our lone cabin door, 
 
 And asked us to sleep on the hearth through the night 
 Till the worst of the storm had passed o'er. 
 
 Each with his feet to the fire stretched out. 
 As their blankets more closely they drew; 
 
 While outside the wolves were howling about. 
 And the wind through the clapboard roof blew. 
 
 Through a hole in the chinkin' a bear poked its nose 
 And gave out one long, hungry roar. 
 
 While the red men like mummies lay in repose. 
 Their only response was a snore. 
 
 Early after breakfast they left the next morn 
 
 And we tried to get over our fear; 
 That same afternoon came one in return. 
 
 For their lodging he gave us a deer. 
 
 The pop of a chestnut disturbed the short dream 
 
 And shot like an arrow o'erhead. 
 The shadows or phantoms so real did seem 
 
 We thought we could hear their soft tread. 
 
 53 
 
Again the red blankets from bush to bush go 
 
 And the tall, bronze figures step out, 
 We see the great bend in the strong hickory bow 
 
 As the arrows fly swiftly about 
 
 We stir up the lire, we throw on more chips. 
 
 We fan them all into a flame. 
 And still the bronze figures with fingers to lips 
 
 Are ready to show us the game. 
 
 The faithful camp dog gives a deep signal bay 
 And the trained hunters come with a bound. 
 
 Spring at the grim figures to tear them away. 
 Then, empty mouthed, sprawl on the ground. 
 
 All bristled and snarling they search for the trail. 
 With their nose push the dead leaves aside. 
 
 Then crouching and whining they come with tucked tail, 
 Crawl under the old bunks and hide. 
 
 The skins of wild animals on the rough punchin' wall. 
 From the muskrat to the panther and bear. 
 
 Have all heard the bay of the camp dog's call. 
 As they traced them back to their lair. 
 
 The lone tallow candle has left a dead wick. 
 
 Half snuffed and half broken it lies. 
 Relighted again at the base of the stick 
 
 The drippings in black smoke arise. 
 
 54 
 
So each night is spent in stories of old. 
 
 What our forefathers REALLY went through. 
 
 As we stir off the sugar, pour it out in the mould, 
 And fill up the kettles anew. 
 
 The old sugar trough has a place in each heart 
 Of the descendants of the first settlers here. 
 
 It holds the most honored, most sacred, part. 
 As the cup of the brave pioneer. 
 
 If I were to sing a song of the men 
 Who fought for our coimtry so free. 
 
 My heart would go back to our forefathers when 
 They were fighting for you and for me. 
 
 Their' s the brave heart who shouldered the gun 
 'Gainst tommy hawk, arrows and all. 
 
 Who caused the wild beast to turn and run. 
 At the flash of the flint or the ball. 
 
 Then back to the old cabin door we must go. 
 As it swings on its hinges of wood. 
 
 Where the first ones to clear, the first ones to sow. 
 And the first for our country have stood. 
 
 Then give us a drink from the old sugar trough 
 Or one sparkling drop from the spile, 
 
 To me it's a chalice from which angels quaff 
 And reverently bow with a smile. 
 
 55 
 
THE DOLLAR BILL MAN. 
 
 New York had a guest a short time ago, 
 A Dollar Bill man from Chicago, you know. 
 Who seemed inclined cigars to smoke. 
 Lighting them with dollar bills just for a joke. 
 
 From Thirty-ninth Broadway to Forty-fourth Place, 
 The people were paralyzed with the dollar bill face ; 
 The bell hops and waiters, the table d'hote. 
 He tipped all around with a dollar bill note. 
 
 In street cars and cabs, wherever he'd be. 
 The dollar bills you plainly could see; 
 Who this gentleman is one surely can guess, 
 He's here in Chicago, this O. B. S. 
 
 If you wish a dollar bill for a spell. 
 Just call at his office somewhere on La Salle; 
 You may find him in, you will find him out, 
 Just linger awhile and you'll get it, no doubt. 
 
 56 
 
THE FINANCIER. 
 
 Don't think because a man hath gold 
 That his heart beats hard and cold. 
 That all he cares, awake or asleep. 
 Is how to gain or how to keep. 
 Or where to place each dollar best. 
 To draw the highest interest; 
 That all he cares for is himself 
 Or the hoards upon the shelf. 
 
 Say not if man grows richer still. 
 That off the poor his treasures fill. 
 While you and I are striving on 
 For things that really are our own. 
 No, none can keep me from my own. 
 For what is mine I hold alone ; 
 Mine is mine where'er it be, 
 Come what will, it is for me. 
 
 If I were rich with hoards galore, 
 I couldn't keep it long, I'm sure. 
 It never was for me to hold. 
 That shining mineral called pure gold. 
 Just to exist and a little more. 
 Is about the limit of my ore. 
 And yet I feel I've nothing lost. 
 Because some other holds the most. 
 
 I've met many a milhonaire 
 Who was true hearted, kind and fair, 
 Their works of charity if told 
 Would cover half their hoards of gold. 
 And yet they never say a word 
 Of what they give or whom they board. 
 Or speak of families they save 
 With bounteous blessings from the grave. 
 57 
 
It happened once not long ago, 
 A family poor, but good, I know. 
 The father sick on his death bed. 
 The mother earned the daily bread. 
 I called upon this poor, sick man. 
 Helped them all I could, and then. 
 As the conversation drifted on 
 Found I was not the only one. 
 
 A man of influence and of wealth 
 Heard of this family, his failing health; 
 From out of his earnings carefully stored. 
 He sent a check for their rent and board. 
 And my heart leaped up when I heard one say 
 "He sent them another check today." 
 And so this man they call so rich. 
 Has lifted many a soul from the ditch. 
 
 Brushed off the mud and slime and filth 
 And placed them on the road to health; 
 Never again let any one say, 
 "The rich all rob the poor today." 
 But of this rich man a lesson take 
 Of how to earn and save and make. 
 God in his wisdom need not be told 
 Who is most fitted to handle the gold. 
 
 If all were divided equally today. 
 Some would be begging tomorrow, they say. 
 So we have need of the great financier. 
 Whose hand is steady, whose mind is clear. 
 Who reads as he runs, who counts the cost, 
 That nothing be wasted, nothing lost. 
 The man with the ax, the plow and hoe. 
 Hath need of the reaper where'er he may sow. 
 
 58 
 
So with the mineral deep under ground. 
 
 Seems of no value until it is found. 
 
 Till the man with the pick, shovel and rope, 
 
 Down in earth's bosom in darkness doth grope. 
 
 So hath the mind of the shrewd financier 
 
 Groped out his way, step by step, his career; 
 
 Over all science and over all art, 
 
 The shrewd financier hath conquered the heart. 
 
 So he holds doubly, so he holds dear. 
 The minds of the people he holds near. 
 Knowledge and wisdom in abundance may pour, 
 But the financier's key must open the door. 
 Give credit to those who in science take part. 
 Give credit to those accomplished in art, 
 Those who reverently speak of the Divine, 
 And tell us some day like angels we'll shine. 
 
 To the doctor who gives us a welcome at birth. 
 Who bids us good-bye when we pass out of earth, 
 The lawyer who draws out a long rambling will. 
 And drags on our cases his pockets to fill. 
 Forget not the judge who fills the big chair 
 And listens to wrangles of grief and despair; 
 Look them all up and you will soon hear. 
 Back of them all is the shrewd financier. 
 
 He is the mainspring, the man of the hour, 
 He's the propeller, in him the power; 
 His the big heart that opens the door 
 And gives of the bounty which blesses the poor. 
 Then give him some credit and do not abuse. 
 He may be the one who fastens your shoes; 
 He is the giver, the master who wrought 
 The possible way of progression and thought. 
 
 59 
 
ROSE. 
 
 Flower of my choice and name. 
 On whom my thoughts repose. 
 
 Amid eternal realms of fame. 
 Forever live thee. Rose. 
 
 The sun withdraws behind the sea. 
 His golden beams to hide; 
 
 The stars awake on dreams of thee 
 And claim thee for their bride. 
 
 The evening shadows softly play 
 Upon thy budding bosom. 
 
 Thy dewy parting lips betray 
 The zephyr's favorite blossom. 
 
 Thy simple modesty and grace. 
 
 So lovely, pure and fair. 
 Finds within my heart a place 
 
 And twines its tendrils there. 
 
 Sweet silence yet expressing all, 
 Within thy fragrant bower. 
 
 Angels must have heard thy call 
 And named thee. Rose, the flower. 
 
 60 
 
WINTER. 
 
 How cruel is Winter with icebergs and all. 
 When the chill Northern winds wildly blow; 
 
 How rudely he scatters the fruits of the fall. 
 And they're lost 'neath the drifts of the snow. 
 
 That Winter has flirted with Summer is true. 
 And he turned her bright colors to gray; 
 
 Then he jeered and he seared and a long breath he blew. 
 And he blew all her foliage away. 
 
 The heart of poor Summer was broken, alone 
 
 She grieved o'er the loss and the fall. 
 
 Old Winter just shook his white locks and was gone. 
 
 His time was so limited, all. 
 
 61 
 
THE SEAR LEAVES KNOW. 
 
 Knowest thou who came one night, 
 Where the purple shades dehght. 
 Where all around and all below. 
 Lights and shadows come and go. 
 
 Peeping through each nook and bower. 
 In that lone and tranquil hour? 
 Knowest thou who came so near. 
 And thine every breath could hear? 
 
 Through that still, ethereal space, 
 See'st thou a form and face 
 Passing hurriedly, and then — pass. 
 Pass, and pass, re-pass again? 
 
 There in that silence from afar 
 Watched a loyal evening star. 
 Like a sentinel, and played 
 From tree to tree in light and shade. 
 
 All around the sear leaves fell. 
 And each one a story tell 
 How in mornings children played 
 'Neath their canopy of shade. 
 
 While the noonday's lunch was spread. 
 What they whispered overhead 
 Of the past, when lovers' vows 
 
 Were made sacred 'neath their boughs. 
 
 62 
 
How beneath that self-same tree 
 They a stately form could see. 
 There upon that manly breast. 
 Lay a weary head to rest. 
 
 And each bough through sympathy 
 Drooped their leaves that none might see 
 How that star still held its place 
 And drew a cloud o'er Luna's face. 
 
 How darker shades would intervene. 
 And leaves were only heard, not seen. 
 Were heard to whisper, "Little one. 
 Be hopeful, thou art not alone. 
 
 "Thy star shall guide thee safely on. 
 Nought shall harm thee, weary one!" 
 Who finds a balm for every woe? 
 Only this the sear leaves know. 
 
 63 
 
CAN IT BE? 
 
 Can it be that God hath sent thee. 
 
 Thus to comfort me alone; 
 Through his kindness has he lent thee; 
 
 Can it be, O precious one? 
 
 Should I feel that naught can harm me 
 When my hand is placed in thine; 
 
 Something in thy soul to charm me; 
 Can it be that thou art mine? 
 
 Thus when I am sad and lonely. 
 And my heart is sore oppressed. 
 
 Love, in thee, and in thee only, 
 I have found the sweetest rest 
 
 Rest upon thy manly bosom. 
 
 Clasped within thy strong embrace. 
 
 Sweetest love shall ever blossom — 
 Love, true love's abiding place. 
 
 Then my soul would entwine thee, 
 
 Thrilling through and through the heart; 
 
 Love has waited long to find thee; 
 Thou art master of my heart. 
 
 Hark, I hear sweet voices singing, 
 Hear the wondrous music swell. 
 
 Bounteous blessings to us bringing; 
 Love's eternal, all is well. 
 
 64 
 
MY CASTLE OF CLAY. 
 
 We gathered 'round the circled board, 
 On New Year's morn in one accord; 
 Recalled the old year past and gone. 
 While o'er us bright the future shown. 
 
 Each broken chain, each fearful brink, 
 We bridged with a triangle link. 
 As in the melting pot we poured 
 Our sorrows and our little hoard. 
 
 There in the embers of the past. 
 The golden links of friendship cast. 
 While underneath the ashen shrine. 
 Bitter tears of sapphire shine. 
 
 Deep in the heart's most sacred core. 
 To gladden other hearts once more. 
 While treasured memories nearer grow. 
 As newer pathways brightly glow. 
 
 So we each sacred trust impart. 
 Within each loyal, honest heart. 
 As in truth we forge the chain. 
 And pledge that we should meet again. 
 
 More happy than I'd hoped to be. 
 My heart leaped forth in harmony, 
 I saw, as it were, what once I knew, 
 I turned, I asked, "Is it really true?" 
 
 65 
 
For many years in my lonely hours 
 I pictured all these things with flowers. 
 Till on the walls of my castle fair. 
 The light of my life reflected there. 
 
 I learned to dwell there, heart and soul, 
 As time her curtains backward roll. 
 Till it seemed a very part of me. 
 This wondrous tide of destiny. 
 
 And I lived them over and over again. 
 Like a tender chord in a sweet refrain. 
 It seemed that the angels dwelt with me. 
 And this was mine eternally. 
 
 This was my garden for many years. 
 And the flowers fed on the falling tears; 
 The picture forms in the castle here. 
 Our comrade souls who await me, dear. 
 
 And then it faded away from me. 
 And left me alone in my misery; 
 Like a delicate flower it passed away. 
 My castle home of potter's clay. 
 
 I grope around, I find no more 
 
 The things that were for me in store. 
 
 And life !o me is little worth. 
 
 Since my castle crumbled back to earth. 
 
 66 
 
Like an eagle torn from its home above. 
 My heart was torn from the castle, love; 
 While a wreath of fame my fingers grasp. 
 But mocked my soul of its happiness. 
 
 More than all for the soul to bear 
 
 Is to taste and see what is not there; 
 
 To watch the glories fade and go. 
 
 The hope that drowns in a pool of woe. 
 
 The bitterest night best known to fate. 
 
 Was the one we hoped to celebrate; 
 
 The most cruel arrow Cupid sends. 
 
 Is the one which says "We'll still be friends 
 
 67 
 
SOME DAY. 
 
 Some day I'll have lots of friends. 
 When my stormy pathway ends; 
 Some day I'll have flowers, too. 
 When I bid this world adieu. 
 
 When my feet no longer roam. 
 Then I'll have my little home; 
 Lone and narrow though it be, 
 'Twill be big enough for me. 
 
 Many years will come and go, 
 'Ere they speak of me or know 
 What my work has really been. 
 Building characters of men. 
 
 Building up both great and small, 
 For the fittest of them all; 
 Thoughts that formed in clay for years, 
 Granitized through silent tears. 
 
 Tears from out the lone heart's core. 
 Sacrificing all and more; 
 Staggering upward, pressing on. 
 This they'll say when I am gone. 
 
 "We really never understood 
 What she meant or how much good 
 She along our pathways cast. 
 Till she's numbered with the past." 
 
 68 
 
Then my flowers will appear 
 O'er my little ashen bier; 
 Little flowers will spring up. 
 Here and there the buttercup. 
 
 Or, perhaps, the golden rod, 
 Emblem of our country — God, 
 Marking well the lonely spot. 
 Mingling with Forget-me-not. 
 
SHALL WE MEET? 
 
 Shall we meet with those we love, 
 Those we feel and call our own, 
 
 In the mansions far above, 
 
 With the angels 'round the throne? 
 
 Do we feel that they are near. 
 As the earth we softly tread; 
 
 And are their forms bending near. 
 Though we say that they are dead? 
 
 Do they whisper words of cheer 
 In the hour of grief and pain. 
 
 And are their spirits lingering near 
 To encourage us again? 
 
 If the good are all to meet. 
 Who is it no good has done? 
 
 Oh, that meeting will be sweet; 
 
 He hath said, "Come, every one." 
 
 If there's one we will not see. 
 If there's one to torment given. 
 
 What will Heaven to us be. 
 
 And what will we be to Heaven? 
 
 No, we will meet each other there. 
 
 Like unto like is given; 
 Each one vAW his glory share; 
 
 Each one share a part of Heaven. 
 
 70 
 
ALONE. 
 
 And thou art gone! Oh, can it be? 
 There is no one to comfort me. 
 No one to call me all his own; 
 Though many are near, yet I'm alone. 
 
 In crowds it is my chance to meet 
 Our friends and there each other greet; 
 My thoughts turn back to hours flown. 
 And I sigh for thee, for I'm alone. 
 
 I'm lonely, oh, so lonely, dear. 
 Though many try my heart to cheer 
 Tis thee I miss, for thou art gone; 
 I'm left in sadness and alone. 
 
 Though God has called thee, dearest one, 
 I cannot say, "Thy will be done;" 
 Why should I give up all I own. 
 And battle through this world alone? 
 
 Thy prayers shall be my strength and shield 
 While laboring in this lonely field; 
 I'll strive to meet thee at the throne. 
 Where sighs and parting are unknown. 
 
 71 
 
THE MESSAGE. 
 
 Thanks for the message thou has sent; 
 Much comfort to my lonely heart it lent; 
 While tossing on this weary bed of pain. 
 It seemed to bring new light, new hope, again. 
 
 To feel and know one soul hath thought of me 
 Lightens my burden to a large degree; 
 No heart was e'er so sad but it could find 
 A little comfort through a sympathetic mind. 
 
 Thus minds reach out to other minds distressed, 
 And through sympathy our own are blessed ; 
 Thus half our battles have been fought and won 
 By feeling, knowing, we are not alone. 
 
 When soul to soul communicates apart 
 Of all the deeper feelings of the heart. 
 Each thought unspoken, unexpressed. 
 Awakes itself within the other's breast. 
 
 72 
 
EDNA. 
 
 Wisdom touched thy brow with care. 
 And beauty traced its tendrils there; 
 Knowledge lurks within thine eyes; 
 Nature holds thee as a prize. 
 
 Surely the sun upon thee smiled. 
 Claimed thee for its own sweet child ; 
 A wondrous presence, most divine. 
 So unassuming, 'round thee shines. 
 
 Thy perfect form, modest, composed. 
 Doth hold its beauty undisclosed. 
 Each line symmetric in its place. 
 Refined within thy queenly grace — 
 
 So sensitive to the critic art. 
 
 So feminine in every part, 
 
 A stranger to thyself, sweet flower, 
 
 thou pinnacle of power! 
 
 Dear little mite of womanhood. 
 Encircling all things pure and good — 
 Edna, were there more like thee. 
 In kindness, truth and sympathy. 
 
 Thy name my very heart chords thrill; 
 
 1 hold it dear and sacred still 
 For thyself and for another, 
 
 Edna ! — the name of my dear Mother. 
 
 73 
 
THE PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 The shadows of the past droop low, 
 
 As memories deep arise, 
 And on the distant field they show 
 
 Wherein the future lies. 
 
 The past and present both doth bring 
 Our sorrow, care and love. 
 
 While to the present we all cling, 
 As through this world we rove. 
 
 Of happy days we love to think. 
 While musing o'er the past. 
 
 And cups of pleasure we all drink. 
 As still we onward pass. 
 
 The future brightens with our hopes. 
 Though storms before us rise. 
 
 Though clouds of sorrow form in groups, 
 Are blessings in disguise. 
 
 Our kindness to each other here 
 Make friends we love so well. 
 
 As we each others' burdens bear. 
 While on this earth we dwell. 
 
 74 
 
WHEN MY BOY COMES. 
 
 Don't close the door and turn away, 
 And say, "I can't see you today." 
 Speak right up and bid him stay. 
 When my boy comes. 
 
 Tho' his form be bent and his voice be weak, 
 Tho' his face be drawn and he cannot speak. 
 Remember the lowly and the meek. 
 When my boy comes. 
 
 Who knows what caused that form to bend. 
 Who knows the heart chords there to mend. 
 How many souls on him depend. 
 When my boy comes? 
 
 Treat him kindly, and you know 
 What caused the boy to wander so; 
 'Twill do you good to share his woe. 
 When my boy comes. 
 
 Give him hope and he will win. 
 Sorrow makes us all akin, 
 Open the door and take him in. 
 When my boy comes. 
 
 75 
 
MR. CUPID. 
 
 I met a Mr. Cupid 
 
 A-sailin' round about, 
 An' he just stole my very heart 
 
 One day when I was out. 
 
 I thought I had it hid away 
 Where none would ever find. 
 
 But what'd you think that rascal did? 
 He made me change my mind. 
 
 I've often heard 'bout Cupid, 
 That he did so many things; 
 
 I never thought he could ketch me 
 With his tiny little wings. 
 
 He wouldn't if I'd knowed it. 
 But he took me by surprise. 
 
 And caught me when I's off my guard; 
 I guess he's kinder wise. 
 
 He's got me guessin' all the time 
 
 Where I am and who. 
 And doin' so awful many things 
 
 I said I'd never do. 
 
 He's jist got me all broke up; 
 
 I can neither sleep nor eat; 
 An* I guess that Mr. Cupid 
 
 Is kinder hard to beat. 
 
 76 
 
I don't know what he's goin' to do. 
 Nor where he's goin' to Hght; 
 
 I'm thinkin' about him all the time. 
 An' I tell you he's a fright. 
 
 But still I'm kinder happy. 
 An' I'd hate to lose him now. 
 
 Since he's got me tangled up 
 With his little strings and bow. 
 
 n 
 
THE BELL AND THE PEN. 
 
 Away in the beautiful state, Minnesota, 
 With the blue earth, river and dell. 
 
 Out from the northland, near the Dakota, 
 Rang a sweet and silver-tongued bell. 
 
 A strong steel pen caught up the refrain, 
 With each tender vibration and part. 
 
 In harmonious chords he held the sweet strain. 
 And moulded it deep in his heart. 
 
 Dan Cupid, the archer, doth plainly reveal 
 
 How his arrow a benedict found. 
 Affirmed by the Superior Court and its seal 
 
 That Cooper the cyclic staves bound. 
 
 So here's to the bell that rings out for love. 
 To the benedict with the strong pen of steel. 
 
 Here's to the Judge, to the Courts who approve. 
 With wisdom in true love's appeal. 
 
 Write on then, O pen of steel, write your part. 
 And report as you would be reported; 
 
 May the judge ne'er regret or judge wrong your heart 
 In the courts where once you have courted. 
 
 78 
 
THE BELLS. 
 
 Sweet be thy chime, O Wedding Bells, 
 
 And silver be thy tongue; 
 In harmony the soft tone swells 
 
 The heart and keeps it young. 
 
 Then vibrate on through chords of love. 
 Master of bow and strings, 
 
 Till that ethereal dome above 
 With love eternal rings. 
 
 O Bell of Bells, we hear again 
 
 Thy rapturous music roll, 
 A remnant of some sweet refrain 
 
 Composed within thy soul. 
 
 79 
 
WHAT IS LOVE? 
 
 Is love the gold on the plate. 
 
 The garments we cast on the floor, 
 
 The smile for those that we hate. 
 
 Or the wretch that we turn from our door? 
 
 Is it found in the homes of might, 
 
 Folded upon the shelf? 
 If brought to the rays of the light. 
 
 Would it crumble away from itself? 
 
 Has it builded a castle of fame 
 That others might envy in pride? 
 
 In brilliancy garnished its name 
 
 Through failures of those who have died? 
 
 Are the flowers that grow in the ditch. 
 
 From fragments of offcasts there. 
 Is that why their color's so rich. 
 
 And their fragrance permeates air? 
 
 Must we look beneath rags for the soul? 
 
 To the wretch for the stroke of the pen? 
 Shall we break the heart to extol? 
 
 Cage the bird for the song in the glen? 
 
 80 
 
Is it war that makes us akin? 
 
 A drop of blood from the heart? 
 Must we peek at the soul within 
 
 To see if we own a part? 
 
 Or part the waters to see 
 
 The gems on the ocean's bed. 
 
 Or search for the soul so free 
 Who smiles when love is dead. 
 
 81 
 
SILENT LOVE. 
 
 When we met and how we parted, 
 None on earth may ever know. 
 
 Yet my Httle lonely heart has 
 Loved thee still where'er I go. 
 
 Love thee, dear, I cannot help it. 
 Though I strive with all my might; 
 
 Would to God I could forget thee I 
 Thou art still my love and light. 
 
 All my thoughts are ever of thee. 
 And the time in which we met; 
 
 In my dreams I'm near and love thee; 
 Oh, then how can I forget? 
 
 Hopeless love abides the longer. 
 
 And each fibre of the heart 
 Tells me love is growing stronger. 
 
 Tells me, too, that we must part. 
 
 82 
 
I CAME TO THEE. 
 
 I came while the sear leaves were falling. 
 
 When the swift-winged winds in their flight 
 
 Were wailing and searching and calling 
 For one who seemed lost in the night. 
 
 Though a guest at thy bedside unbidden. 
 
 I will smooth out thy pillow with care; 
 In the chambers of thought I have hidden. 
 
 And my soul joins thy soul in prayer. 
 
 Away from thee, yet I'm near thee; 
 
 Thine ailments and sufferings are mine; 
 Thou seest me not, yet I hear thee, 
 
 Responding, O Love! unto thine. 
 
 83 
 
I AM LOVE. 
 
 I am Love; I hold the keys 
 Of all eternity to please. 
 The object of my heart and soul; 
 On high the stars I guide, control; 
 I am Love. 
 
 I am Love; I search thee out; 
 I twine my heart chords round about; 
 Many years I've wandered 'round; 
 Love at last Love's self hath found; 
 I am Love. 
 
 I am Love; Love is my theme; 
 I love thee, love thee, in my dream. 
 And feel thy breath upon my cheek; 
 Of thee, O Love, I dream, I speak; 
 I am Love. 
 
 I am Love; I draw no bow 
 To pierce or break the heart. No, no! 
 Love and happiness I give; 
 I live to love, I love to live; 
 I am Love. 
 
 I am Love; my love to be. 
 All this love I give to thee. 
 My earth, my Heaven, my all above. 
 To thee, my own, to thee, my love; 
 I am Love. 
 
 I am Love eternal, thine; 
 From age to age my love. Oh! mine; 
 I am, I was, I still shall be 
 Forever more, O Love, with thee; 
 I am Love. 
 
 84 
 
GO. FORGET ME. 
 
 Go, forget me; it is better. 
 
 Best our paths in life should part; 
 Go, forget each little fetter. 
 
 Ere it wounds or breaks the heart. 
 
 Go, forget, and let me treasure 
 Only purest thoughts of thee; 
 
 Go, forget the passing pleasure 
 That my presence brought to thee. 
 
 Go, forget that ere we met; 
 
 Go, forget each little touch; 
 Let thy heart learn to forget; 
 
 Go, forget, I loved thee much. 
 
 Thus I give thee back unto her. 
 Whom thou loved ere we met. 
 
 All thy love and honor due her; 
 Go, I pray thee, go, forget. 
 
 85 
 
WHERE'S OUR HORSE? 
 
 Where is that faithful animal. 
 
 Whose interesting face 
 Bestowed so much intelligence, 
 
 Superior to his race. 
 
 We miss thee, Turber, line old chum; 
 
 Our hearts are filled with pain; 
 Some one said 'cause thou art dumb 
 
 We ne'er should see thee again. 
 
 We don't believe one word they say. 
 For what we taught thee here 
 
 Shall ever rise above this clay 
 Through some eternal sphere. 
 
 Somewhere there is a great big book 
 
 So sacred it has given 
 A description of our future home. 
 
 And the horses there in Heaven. 
 
 A wondrous vision comes to me. 
 
 As I pursue this course: 
 Again our Turber plain I see 
 
 As a white and winged horse. 
 
 86 
 
HOME AGAIN. 
 
 How strange that nothing else can move 
 This heart which seldom speaks of love; 
 Within these walls it comes again. 
 And stamps its image on the brain. 
 
 This ancient building is to me 
 My heritage, my destiny. 
 It matters not which road I trace. 
 The end returns me to this place. 
 
 Beneath this roof I stand alone. 
 No other place to call my own; 
 These rooms shall vibrate with my song. 
 And echo all the halls along. 
 
 I feel my friends have drawn me here. 
 Their faces growing doubly dear; 
 Then feelings of the soul impart 
 The true affection of the heart. 
 
 87 
 
TO SENA. 
 
 O friend, since we parted a cloud has passed over, 
 
 And changed all the sunshine to gloom; 
 The hours of the past with grief I now cover. 
 
 And sigh, "Thou hast left me alone." 
 
 So much I have loved thee in days that are past. 
 
 And said to my soul, "Thou art mine;" 
 What heart, though of stone, would not break at this blast. 
 
 And leave not a fibre to bind? 
 
 Think me not fickle, for feelings I've none; 
 
 I've buried them deep underground; 
 Since thou hast left me and taken my son. 
 
 In darkness I'm groping around. 
 
 No love for a relative, none for a friend. 
 
 Nothing to live for, I know; 
 This life's a delusion in which all hopes end; 
 
 Oh, is it not better to go? 
 
 To go? Go where? I am lonely tonight. 
 
 Not a sound nor a voice do I hear; 
 Far out in the distance I see a faint light. 
 
 And I think in my soul it draws near. 
 
 Hark ! Is it the night winds that whistle and jar. 
 
 Sends a thrill through each finger tip? 
 No, it's only the sound of the old cable car. 
 
 And, Blondie, I'll take a round trip. 
 
TO THEE AND MARIE. 
 
 When first I looked upon thy face 
 I wondered when or where 
 
 Each Hne famihar I could trace. 
 And place remembrance there. 
 
 And o'er the past I fondly mused, 
 But naught could I recall; 
 
 The more I thought, the more confused 
 That we had met at all. 
 
 And yet I feel not strange to thee; 
 
 Our thoughts are blended in; 
 The conversation seems to be 
 
 As though we were akin. 
 
 Sweet solace thus for us to know 
 That through our friend Marie, 
 
 Whose gracious love to us bestow 
 In peaceful harmony. 
 
LINES TO SENA. 
 
 Ah, yes, I do remember well 
 
 The first place that I went 
 Was where they had some shoes to sell; 
 
 I asked for rooms to rent. 
 
 And there behind the counter, fair 
 You stood, in gray and blue; 
 
 In your hand you held a pair 
 O* patent leather shoes. 
 
 Then, laying down the shoes, you said, 
 "I'll show you if you'll come;" 
 
 Up a flight of stairs you led 
 And took me to the room. 
 
 You said that they were pleasant rooms. 
 And nicer still you'd make them; 
 
 Very soon the painter comes; 
 I told you I would take them. 
 
 So in these rooms I live alone. 
 No matter what's the weather. 
 
 For to Tacoma you have gone. 
 And we're no more together. 
 
 Oh, happy were the hours we passed. 
 While on the car were riding. 
 
 Or underneath the boat's white mass. 
 As o'er the waters gliding. 
 
 So like the cable in her flight. 
 
 As it moves up the track, 
 I to you these verses write, 
 
 And ask, "Won't you come back?" 
 
 90 
 
IN MEMORY OF MR. WRIGHT. 
 
 On, onward, in thy upward flight 
 
 Now liberated soul, arise. 
 On, on from world to worlds of light. 
 
 Thou winged one, to Paradise. 
 
 O'er thy clay form 'neath the sod 
 Memory holds a hallowed share. 
 
 Leading us on to thee, to God, 
 And yet we feel thy presence there. 
 
 Up in the realms of endless space 
 We rise to follow thee afar. 
 
 As we along thy pathway trace 
 A lingering light, O wondrous star. 
 
 Most earnest all thy works we feel. 
 Thine achievements in thy sphere. 
 
 While reverently to God we kneel. 
 And know thy guiding hand is here. 
 
 91 
 
THE AERIAL THRONE. 
 
 Not only over land and sea 
 
 Hath man attained renown. 
 But from his highness in the sky 
 
 He tore the eagle's crown. 
 
 O'er the feathered pinions wide 
 
 Man rose to realms supreme; 
 Crestfallen and with jealous pride. 
 
 We hear the eagle scream. 
 
 Long hath this monarch of the air 
 
 Held court around the throne; 
 Man in his wisdom passeth there. 
 
 And claims the aerial dome. 
 
 O man, eternal life he hath. 
 
 From link to link mounts on. 
 Until the very powers of death 
 
 Shall throw the gauntlet down. 
 
 The eagle soars high and screams with delight. 
 As he boasts of his prominent gains. 
 
 But a little lone bird on his beak will alight 
 And leisurely pick out his brains. 
 
 92 
 
THE TOOTH. 
 
 And thus we part, 'tis sad to feel 
 
 That it must be forever. 
 Cruel the hand and cold the steel 
 
 That caused this chord to sever. 
 
 Thy whiteness blighted by decay. 
 In nature sure to follow; 
 
 It chilled my very heart to stay 
 The pain of semi-hollow. 
 
 Thy place is vacant now, and though 
 Sad memories round it hover. 
 
 Past memories I must forego. 
 And try to bridge it over. 
 
 Perfect trust in thee I hold; 
 
 It was a source of pleasure. 
 While hording up a little gold. 
 
 To count thee as a treasure. 
 
 But thee I'll always love the most. 
 For well thou hast defended 
 
 A drink to health or pleasant toast, 
 Which in our natures blended. 
 
 93 
 
THE AIR BIRD. 
 
 Where's all them men a-flyin' to 
 
 Away up in the air; 
 They've got this town 'most hypnotized, 
 
 Awatchin' everywhere. 
 
 "That looks like a 'skeeter," says one; 
 
 Another said, "A kite;" 
 And so they fussed about it all 
 
 Till they most had a fight. 
 
 They're gittin' kinder cross-eyed, too, 
 
 A-tryin' to keep track; 
 Their eyes are jist brim full o' dirt, 
 
 A-leanin' their heads back. 
 
 The eye man's takin' out the dust; 
 
 He's makin' money, too, 
 A-sellin' glasses and spectacles. 
 
 An' goggles to look through. 
 
 An' their necks is most stretched off; 
 
 They ain't a-doin' a thing 
 But keepin' watch o' them there birds. 
 
 Away up on the wing. 
 
 It's jist as bad on State Street, too. 
 They're all a-rubberin' high; 
 
 The crowd's so big you can't git through, 
 A-lookin' at the sky. 
 
 94 
 
Policeman on the crossin* there. 
 
 He looks so big and strong. 
 If you but stop to git your breath. 
 
 He'll growl out, "Move along." 
 
 There's so awful much a-goin' on. 
 An' so much you want to see. 
 
 They don't know jist where to go. 
 Nor where they ort to be. 
 
 God knows where they ort to go. 
 
 An' where they ort to be; 
 There's just one thing that I'll say, though. 
 
 No flyin' up for me. 
 
 I'm goin' back to the Buckeye towns, 
 
 A little farther out; 
 I'm tired o' this "Move along," 
 
 An' pushin' me about. 
 
 95 
 
THE DOCTOR. 
 
 Who stands with open arms to give 
 A welcome in this world of light, 
 
 Who bids you breathe, who bids you live. 
 Who places you on garments white? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 Who do you call when you are ill 
 
 With measles, whooping cough or fever. 
 
 Who gives you then and there a pill. 
 And says the trouble's with the liver? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 When on the bed you toss in pain. 
 
 Through long, long nights and weary days. 
 
 Who calls to comfort, to heal again. 
 And who deserves the highest praise? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 And when the sun sinks in the west. 
 Your race of life is lost or won. 
 
 Who did you need most in the past. 
 
 Who helped you o'er the stumbling stone? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 Who should you thank for all your wealth. 
 Your hoarded mines or banks of gold. 
 
 Who kept your nerve up, saved your health. 
 And cured you of the hardest cold? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 96 
 
And when the last faint hope has fled. 
 When life is ebbing, almost gone. 
 
 Who keeps his place right by the bed. 
 Counts the vibrations one by one? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 And after your short life has past. 
 And you've returned again to earth. 
 
 What should we tell them if they ask. 
 Who must report your death and birth? 
 The Doctor. 
 
 97 
 
THE HOT WATER BOTTLE. 
 
 When you're feeling quite ill. 
 
 And your feet have grown cold, 
 
 It's the hot water bottle 
 Then you should hold. 
 
 It will stop all the pains 
 
 And stay all the aches. 
 All cramps in the stomach. 
 
 When the back almost breaks. 
 
 And even old Death 
 
 Is held by the throttle 
 When you closely crawl up 
 
 To the hot water bottle. 
 
 There's one thing that goes 
 With this bottle, of course; 
 
 It's streaked and striped. 
 And they call it a nurse. 
 
 Just press on the button 
 
 And in she will pop. 
 And fill up that bottle. 
 
 Brimful! to the top. 
 
 She will make up your bed. 
 
 Smooth the feathers the right way, 
 
 And you really believe 
 
 You grow better each day. 
 
 98 
 
She will give you white tube 
 
 To smoke for a minute; 
 "Don't bite off the end, 
 
 "There's mercury in it." 
 
 Then she tries the circulation 
 
 By holding your hand 
 In her little soft palm. 
 
 Which is tender and bland. 
 
 The respiration grows quick. 
 And the pulse more fast. 
 
 And you wonder how long 
 The fever will last. 
 
 Then in steps the doctor. 
 
 Without rap or warning. 
 And smiles as he says, 
 
 "You can go home in the morning. 
 
 99 
 
LINES TO SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 I fought I'd wight 'oo, Santa Claus, 
 'Oo looks so big an' drand; 
 
 I'll tell 'oo 'bout what I want, 
 'Taus I fink 'oo'll understand. 
 
 I know 'oo's awful busy. 
 But 'cuse me when I say. 
 
 If it don't take too much time, 
 I wish 'oo'd tome 'is way. 
 
 I's des a little one alone. 
 An' ain't dot nuffin' 'tall. 
 
 But I'd wealy like to see 'oo. 
 So I dess oo'd better call. 
 
 There's lots of little fings I need 
 
 I know I'll never dit. 
 So I dis never say a word. 
 
 But am tryin' to ferdit. 
 
 But I dist want to ask 'oo. 
 When 'oo are wound about. 
 
 If 'oo dis see a baby doll, 
 I wish 'oo'd bring it out. 
 
 I don't want rags or china. 
 
 Like they have on Tottage Drove, 
 
 But it must open its eyes an' c'y; 
 I want one I tan love. 
 
 100 
 
Now, Mr. Santa, won't 'oo see. 
 An' try with all 'our might. 
 
 If you can dit it soon for me; 
 Of tourse it must be white. 
 
 Don't dit it so awful big, 
 
 I've heard of sixteen pounds. 
 
 But I fink eight is big enough 
 For me to tarry wound. 
 
 Never mind about the tlose, 
 
 Jis wap it in a shawl; 
 I's dot a lot of lace and fings. 
 
 An' I tan make them all. 
 
 Now, Santa, won't 'oo bwing it; 
 
 I want one awful new; 
 I don't tare if it does look pink, 
 
 Dis so its eyes are blue. 
 
 An' I want it for Trismas, 
 At least by Trismas night; 
 
 Now, Santa, don't fordit me; 
 I know *oo'l dit it wight. 
 
 Now, Mr. Santa, let me know; 
 
 *Oo either tum or wight. 
 An' tell me dis what 'oo will do; 
 
 Dood night, Santa, dood night. 
 
 101 
 
MR. SANTA CLAUS. 
 
 We's dot a drate big Trismas, an' I'll tell you why — betause 
 We's dot so many pretty sings from dood ol' Santa Claus; 
 We dis live in a tottage and poor as we tin be, 
 But then ol' Mr. Santa Claus just tinks a lot of me. 
 
 I'll tell 'oo how it happened; I'll dis tell 'oo the truf. 
 
 'Oo know our little tottage's dot a hole up in the roof. 
 
 An' papa's been so awful sick, he didn't have a cent; 
 
 An' the landlord wouldn't fix it, 'tause we touldn't pay our rent. 
 
 An' Santa Claus turn in the dark an' tumbled in, 'oo see. 
 An' he just spilled everyting right down in front o' me. 
 I des it scared him awful bad, 'tause he never did tum back. 
 Oh, I fordot to tell 'oo, I'se dot a jumpin' jack. 
 
 An' doggie's dot a tollar, and dollie's dot a bed. 
 An' papa's dot cigars and shoes, an' bruwer's dot a sled. 
 An' mamma's dot a torset an' toat an' tallar, too. 
 An', oh, we's dot so many sings, an* everysing is new. 
 
 We's dot so awful much to eat, tandies, take and bread, 
 A drate big basket full a' meat and a dozen eggs, they said. 
 Now, tum an' see our tottage and dit some presents, too; 
 I'll dis Stan' right by the door an' I'll dive one to 'oo. 
 
 We div a little neighbor boy some tandy an' some take, 
 'Tause he ain't dot no mamma to took for him or bake; 
 We put him on our 'ittle s'ed an' took him for a ride; 
 We fought we'd make him happy, but he 'ist c'ied, and c'ied, and 
 c'ied. 
 
 102 
 
I asked him what he's c'ying for, and' he said to me, 
 "My mamma died one Trismas night when we had a tree; 
 I don't like Santa Claus a bit, he makes me feel so sad; 
 I want to be wis mamma; take me off 'is sled." 
 
 Just then the bells across the street, the bells began to ring; 
 "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men," we heard the people sing; 
 An* he just c'imbed right off that s'ed and runned with all his might; 
 "Mamma's tailing me," he said; "I'll be with her tonight" 
 
 103 
 
LITTLE MAB'S LETTER. 
 
 I want a 'tamp an' envelope, 
 An' paper an' pen an' ink; 
 
 I want to wite a letter to Twist, 
 An' tell him 'ist what I think. 
 
 I tan't teep Lent 'is time, I dess, 
 'Tause the Prince is doin' to tall. 
 
 An' I want to dit a bootiful dress 
 An' do to the banquet and ball. 
 
 It takes the richest of our people yet 
 
 To entertain him at all. 
 An* they say invitations are hard to dit. 
 
 An' it tosts to do to the ball. 
 
 I'll see the secretary as soon as I tan. 
 
 An' tell him I want to do; 
 I want to see that big Prince man, 
 
 'Tause we dot none here, 'oo know. 
 
 We tould 'a had 'em long ago. 
 But we fighted 'em all away. 
 
 An' now a prince is a drate big show. 
 An' we're all so tommon, they say. 
 
 'Is Prince was bom in a great big home. 
 An' soldiers wound him stood; 
 
 He wasn't homed in a manger alone. 
 Without any clothes or food. 
 
 104 
 
So please ercuse me now, dear Lord, 
 'Tause I must do to the ball ; 
 
 I'll be a dood dirl when I tum back. 
 An' I'll tell 'oo about it all. 
 
 105 
 
THE DEACON. 
 
 Softly and gently they laid him away. 
 
 Deep down in earth's bosom so cold; 
 Great was the sorrow and dark was the day 
 
 That shattered his clay-covered mold. 
 
 Yet lonely and dark and narrow his bed. 
 
 Oppressed with the shadow and gloom, 
 Light was the tread of the people that read 
 
 The date of his death on the tomb. 
 
 One member is lost, his hands they have crossed. 
 
 And his crutches are laid by his side; 
 Oh, the money it cost and the friends that he lost, 
 
 June the 19th, when he died. 
 
 On the front pew in church this deacon would perch 
 
 For some twenty years and nine. 
 Till friends of the Lord met in accord 
 
 An' told him he'd better resign. 
 
 "My cloak to take off," said he with a scoff, 
 
 "And show to the people my sham? 
 No, I will under it hover and all my sins cover; 
 
 The world shall not know what I am." 
 
 Of the death of this deacon it's hardly worth speaking. 
 
 Except a few things we might mention; 
 Since the crutches adopt and on them he hopped. 
 
 They add fifteen to his pension. 
 
 106 
 
Poor deacon at last is gone with the past, 
 
 Down in the shadow and gloom; 
 His face will no more be seen as before, 
 
 For he is consigned to the tomb. 
 
 The deacon is gone and there is not one 
 Who would call him back to his place. 
 
 But say, let him rest with his hands on his breast, 
 And the shadow of death on his face. 
 
 In primeval clay they laid him away, 
 Down in the earth's bosom to rest; 
 
 In the tribunal court may the final report 
 For the deacon be found for the best. 
 
 107 
 
ADAM'S APPLE. 
 
 I don't know, was it really so? 
 
 But I certainly do believe 
 The fruits that grow in Eden's glow. 
 
 And was plucked by Sister Eve, 
 
 Of which our Adam took a part. 
 And stood ready to grab. 
 
 Was not the apple of the heart. 
 But only of the crab. 
 
 For right away he crawfished out. 
 When he see what was comin', 
 
 And went around the bush about 
 And put it on the woman. 
 
 But God Himself was very wise; 
 
 He took the part of Eve, 
 Opened wide this young man's eyes. 
 
 And made him gather leaves. 
 
 There was no tariff on the clothes. 
 With which they had to grapple, 
 
 But all this tariff trouble rose 
 From the eatin' of that apple. 
 
 108 
 
THE OLD VIRGINIA REEL. 
 
 When the wintah's settin* in. 
 An' the snow begins to fall. 
 
 Then big meetin's will begin. 
 An' the parson on you call. 
 
 Fix the chickens awful high, 
 
 'Fore you goes to that 'ere meetin' ; 
 
 Some good brudder may pass by. 
 An' suspect 'em fit for eatin'. 
 
 "Love an' help ye one another. 
 
 Save your souls while you's a chance. 
 
 Spoke the goodly parson brudder; 
 "Go you not unto the dance." 
 
 But I'm suah de Lord forgive me 
 
 Soon as I afore Him kneel, 
 'Cause he knows that dere is music 
 
 In dat old Virginia Reel. 
 
 Oh! dat fiddle's awful fine. 
 
 An' dere's action in de heel 
 When ye's comin' dov^Ti de line 
 
 In dat old Virginia Reel. 
 
 109 
 
THE LONELY BACHELOR. 
 
 Now, Mr. Bachelor, I think 
 You've kinder serious grown; 
 
 Hadn't you better rest a bit. 
 And let us winunin 'lone. 
 
 'Pears to me you're growin' old. 
 And gittin' cross, no doubt; 
 
 May be that your feet are cold; 
 You'd better move about. 
 
 There's lots o' special letters 
 The wimmin sent to you; 
 
 Now, honest, sir, I really think 
 You needn't feel so blue. 
 
 Jist to you. Lone Bachelor, 
 The wimmin wrote their lore; 
 
 So polish up yourself a bit. 
 
 You're goin' to git some more. 
 
 You're 'tractin' lots o' 'tention, 
 A-gatherin' up the news. 
 
 And soon you'll have more humor 
 Than you can really use. 
 
 If you're goin' to write a book, 
 
 I think you'd best begin 
 While gatherin' up the humorous stuff. 
 
 And put it all right in. 
 
 110 
 
Looks to me that's what you want. 
 With all your art an' skill; 
 
 I'd think you'd kiver it up a bit. 
 If you had a humorous will. 
 
 But what can any one expect 
 Of a Bachelor, old and lone. 
 
 Who never had a humorous heart 
 To beat time with his own. 
 
 An' so we all jist pity you. 
 An' try to help you out 
 
 By tellin' you the humorous side. 
 An' what it's all about. 
 
 Ill 
 
THE BEE AND THE CLOVER. 
 
 Mr. Bee, since I saw thee, I've thought it all over, 
 
 And wondered if it really was right. 
 While about on your business from blossom to clover. 
 
 You should sip the sweet dews of the night. 
 
 The clover may not miss a drop of the dew. 
 For the heart with the sickle was mown. 
 
 But the pouting rosebud responds to the woo. 
 And withers ere it fully has blown. 
 
 Shall we then blame the bee for culling the sweet 
 
 Of the rosebud where'er he may roam; 
 If he passed the sweet flowerettes all by which he meets. 
 
 His honey'd be nothing but comb. 
 
 Go on, busy bee, with your buzzing, I say; 
 
 I partly believe you are right; 
 The dew on the flowers will soon pass away, 
 
 Another'll be yours for tonight. 
 
 The faster the sail of the ship in her flight 
 
 The sooner the sailing is over; 
 The fairer the flower the earlier 'twill blight, 
 
 And the bee will return to the clover. 
 
 112 
 
THE GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 A grasshopper sitting, napping, one day. 
 Thinking over the past and such things; 
 
 How wise he had been in his dignified way 
 To keep himself free from all strings. 
 
 Says he, "I will drop what I loved in the past; 
 
 I have sipped all the hfe from the clover; 
 The sweets of that Hower to me cannot last, 
 
 I will look for new fields to hop over." 
 
 Then he chewed his tobacco in an important style. 
 And he hopped on a prominent seat ; 
 
 "If I'm a good judge," says he, with a smile, 
 "The past and the future ne'er meet." 
 
 Meantime a plain spider was weaving each day. 
 And counting her threads with a measure; 
 He had stolen the sweets of the clover away 
 For his own selfish purpose and pleasure. 
 
 "I will call myself justice," she silently sighed. 
 While he thinking the past all over; 
 
 With strong threads of truth and duty she tied. 
 And fastened him on to the clover. 
 
 The clover grew pale and bowed its head low, 
 Broken hearted it drooped to the ground; 
 
 "Such sweets are annoying," said he; "I will go," 
 But he found himself hopelessly bound. 
 
 113 
 
A GOOD REASON. 
 
 Smoking and thinking, he sat in his chair. 
 
 An old man wrinkled and gray. 
 He had seen many years of pleasure and care 
 
 In life, fast ebbing away. 
 
 The blue-ringed smoke rose up in the air 
 
 From the comer so dark and grim. 
 While a little lone dog cuddled under the chair. 
 
 Contented to be near him. 
 
 A millionaire dog fancier stumbled o'er the man, 
 
 While he in the dark comer sat; 
 Then laughingly said, "Will you tell, if you can. 
 
 What use is a dog like that?" 
 
 The old man leisurely said, "I don't know." 
 
 "Then why value him?" said he. 
 The old wrinkled face changed with a glow, 
 
 And he answers, "Because he likes me." 
 
 114 
 
The expression of the dog under the chair 
 
 Confirmed the statement that day. 
 "There's no better reason," said the millionaire, 
 
 And silently walked away. 
 
 The blue-ringed smoke ceased to rise. 
 
 And the dog was left alone; 
 The light went out of the old man's eyes. 
 
 But the faithful dog watched on. 
 
 115 
 
LINES TO A GOSSIP. 
 
 Old gossip, your deceitful tongue 
 Has tried in vain to do me wrong. 
 
 Which Hke a pendulum is hung. 
 
 Your fangs are venomous and strong. 
 
 You follow fast upon my track. 
 Yet like a deer before the hound, 
 
 I leave you in the distance back. 
 You reach me not, I am not down. 
 
 Your fiendish eyes no good can see. 
 You misinterpret every word; 
 
 And like a serpent 'neath the tree 
 
 You coil and wait to catch the bird. 
 
 But, oh, the fumes which rise from you 
 Gives warning of the danger there, 
 
 I shake my feet from viper's dew 
 And rise to purer atmosphere. 
 
 You try to pierce my very soul. 
 Your poisoned arrows pass me by ; 
 
 My fort is strong, 1*11 reach the goal. 
 And vain remorse will be your cry. 
 
 Why should you meddle with my 'fairs? 
 
 You only toil in vain; 
 While throwing out for other's snares. 
 
 You tumble in again. 
 
 116 
 
You cannot bend me to your will 
 
 Or change me anyway. 
 For I am far above you still, 
 
 And here I mean to stay. 
 
 Down, then, to your own level stay. 
 
 And do not try to rise; 
 You're only throwing time away. 
 
 Stones never reach the skies. 
 
 You tattle, tattle all around. 
 And when you hear a word. 
 
 Off to the neighbors you are bound 
 And whisper, "Have you heard?' 
 
 117 
 
YE CANT GIT IN. 
 
 No matter how good y' are. 
 
 Where you're from or whin. 
 If you ain't got a good, big pull. 
 
 Ye can't git in. 
 
 Ye may be as wise as Solomon 
 
 Or have the best o' kin. 
 If you ain't a pocket full o' mun. 
 
 Ye can't git in. 
 
 If ye're a pilgrim on the Mayflower raft. 
 
 As our father's bin, 
 An* you've not the power o' the graft. 
 
 Ye can't git in. 
 
 Patriotism may fire your soul 
 
 An' keep ye free from sin. 
 If ye ain't got no financial roll. 
 
 Ye can't git in. 
 
 Ye may write of our glorious country an' flag 
 
 An' inspire the souls o* men. 
 If ye ain't no bank account to brag. 
 
 Ye can't git in. 
 
 While ye stumble along with the ragged an' poor 
 
 An' listen to the din. 
 Ye may butt aginst the crafty door. 
 
 Ye can't git in. 
 
 118 
 
There's just one place for you, one more, 
 A place where you will win; 
 
 Behold, I stand and knock at the door. 
 And a voice that says, "Come in." 
 
 119 
 
SHORT SAYINGS. 
 
 When love is bound to separate, 
 
 'Tis best that it should part in hate. 
 
 For anger strengthens every heart. 
 
 As flames refine the gold apart. 
 
 And woe to them who water pour 
 
 On flames which they have fanned before. 
 
 Who dares to think it but a dream. 
 
 For nothing burns so deep as steam — 
 
 Humiliation knows no bound. 
 
 Where cold indifference is found, 
 
 Though love has lived for many years. 
 
 Hatred will dry the salty tears. 
 
 Deception its ovm coat will turn. 
 
 And all the inner linings bum. 
 
 The lying tongue forgets itself 
 
 And leaves its roots lie on the shelf. 
 
 No man a woman will degrade 
 
 Till of himself a brute has made, 
 
 Then brutishly his life will end — 
 
 For nature will her kind defend. 
 
 Say not that you have nought at all. 
 
 120 
 
Lest your possessions from you fall. 
 No downward path can woman go 
 But that there is a man below. 
 The greatest man from heaven above 
 Was greater through a woman's love. 
 E'en God improved his first design. 
 Made woman purer and more fine. 
 Eve was the first to make a dress. 
 Then Adam lost his happiness. 
 For eating fruit he blamed her, too. 
 Till God responded "Shame on you! 
 Get out of here, and go to work; 
 Why should you longer duty shirk? 
 By the sweat of your brow, all your life 
 Protect this woman — she's your wife. 
 And after this you must behave. 
 Or down you go unto the grave." 
 There is not a man since Adam's day 
 But what has followed his pathway. 
 
 121 
 
THE KATYDID. 
 
 What do you think Katydid? 
 In the Federal Building hid — 
 Talking 'bout the neighbors* fines, 
 And of millions and of mines. 
 Told of judge, and justice, too. 
 Told what happened, where and who; 
 Of Uncle Sam, then Katie spoke. 
 Said the war was all a joke. 
 Then this little Katydid 
 On the oil-can put a lid. 
 And upon the trusts she sat. 
 Spoke of graft and all o' that 
 A reporter to her went. 
 And for her the inspector sent. 
 Louder still the songs arose 
 Of which Katydid compose. 
 Then employes took a part. 
 Writing verses from the heart — 
 Told of love, of hope and fame. 
 Thinking Katydid the same. 
 Writing 'bout such serious things. 
 They got caught in Cupid's strings. 
 With his bow and arrows hid. 
 Listening to what Katydid. 
 All this trouble came about 
 Just to put poor Katy out. 
 Underneath the Federal sill 
 Katydid is singing still. 
 
 122 
 
THE SUN AND THE RAINBOW. 
 
 Out of chaos there sprang a flower. 
 From a dewdrop the ocean was born. 
 
 And the sun, through his magical power. 
 Brought forth the first glow of morn. 
 
 To his bosom, still blushing, he drew it. 
 The warm cycic rays reaching low; 
 
 When the murmuring mist rose to it. 
 Behold, 'twas the promised rainbow. 
 
 Time passed, and the bow was still bending. 
 As the sun for the goal hurried on; 
 
 The rambow's soft hues are yet blending. 
 But, lo! there are spots on the sun! 
 
 From the ocean the dewdrop returns. 
 From chaos the flowers unfold; 
 
 The sun in its hurried flight bums. 
 But the rainbow reacheth its goal. 
 
 123 
 
TO ANNA. 
 
 Like the glow of morning o'er the top of the lake 
 The light o'er the transom all darkness doth break ; 
 While the jingle of keys as they open the door 
 Announce the return of the owner once more. 
 
 You were missed very much while you were gone. 
 Even the sun more mysticly shone. 
 The guests, and friends, more anxious grew. 
 And wondered what had happened to you. 
 
 And so we just say we hope you are well; 
 No further news this moment to tell. 
 We welcome, most heartily, welcome you home; 
 Again I repeat it: we are all glad you come. 
 
 Again you have left your domain, we are told. 
 And some bosom friends took you into their fold. 
 In this we do hope you have made no mistake, 
 And that your east window looks over the lake. 
 
 To welcome the glorious and wondering sun. 
 Who smiles in our face and forever moves on ; 
 Whose long golden beams o'er waters and glade 
 Have crimsoned the streams and purpled the shade. 
 
 Who gladdens the morning, who rainbows the sky. 
 Who sails over the storm-clouds and mountain tops high, 
 Who wakes us, who guides us, who leads us to rest. 
 Who hides beyond the sea, the foam-beaten crest. 
 
 124 
 
THE DREAMER. 
 
 The home of our dreams celestially gleams. 
 
 Where fact in our fancies unfurls; 
 The sea emerald gold, its beauties unfold 
 
 O'er the portals of corals and pearls. 
 
 Each coral a part, each pearl of the heart, 
 Each atom through space hurried on. 
 
 Compose the great dome, encircling the home 
 Which the soul of the dreamer hath won. 
 
 Through the dark purple shade, with crimson inlaid. 
 Are the works of the dreamer's long years; 
 
 The soft rays of light, and the radiant white 
 Are made through suffering and tears. 
 
 On memory's wall the echoes recall 
 The songs of the dreamer, the sage; 
 
 They comfort again the hearts of all men, 
 And the dreamer lighteth the page. 
 
 125 
 

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