PS 
 
 3531 
 
 THOMAS E. POPE 
 
Class _£5_3r3_i 
 Book , <Pfe^r 
 
 GoipghtM°. 
 
 I9fi 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
COLLECTED POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS E. POPE 
 
 w 
 
 THE NORMAN, REMINGTON CO. 
 BALTIMORE 
 
^%^''^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1916 
 
 BY 
 MARTHA S. POPE 
 
 APR 26 1916 
 ©CI,A4 28695 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 This book has been made in memory of my 
 father, of whom, at his death, it was said, ''He 
 was a man of the old school of honor and duty 
 * * * * always true to his convictions and 
 fearless in the expression of his opinions, con- 
 spicuous for his honesty and integrity. His 
 religious principles were carried into all his 
 business transactions." 
 
 December, 1915 M. S. P. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Abide With Me 9 
 
 Sowing the Seed 10 
 
 Blind Bartimeus 15 
 
 Evening in the Catoctin Valley 21 
 
 Sunset and Night Beneath the Catoctin Mountain 23 
 
 Winter Thoughts 26 
 
 Rev. B. C. Flowers 29 
 
 My Mother 31 
 
 Baby (T. E. P.) 33 
 
 A One-Legged Sparrow 34 
 
 To Mary 37 
 
 Brother's Death 39 
 
 Martha M. Rice— For Wreath She Presented 43 
 
 One: (That Magic Smile) 44 
 
 Robbie Weech. Lines Written in His Album 45 
 
 Miss E. A. Lines on Christmas Day 46 
 
 A Life Experience 51 
 
 Retrospection 54 
 
 Emma Jane Pope (Acrostic) 57 
 
 Upon Removal of Courthouse Railing 58 
 
 Santa Claus 60 
 
 To the Heroes of the Park 61 
 
 Merry Christmas 64 
 
 Twilight Hour 67 
 
 Adieu to Home and Friends 68 
 
 God Bless You 70 
 
RELIGIOUS 
 
ABIDE WITH ME 
 
 Abide with me! the day begins to wane, 
 
 And shadows lengthen with approaching eve; 
 
 The gloaming soon will spread o'er all the main, 
 Stay with me, Lord, nor in the darkness leave. 
 
 Abide with me! I would not leave Thy side, 
 At every trembling step I'd feel Thee near, 
 
 And when the light fades out at eventide, 
 
 Oh, grant Thy presence to comfort and to 
 cheer. 
 
 Abide with me! I stumble in the way, 
 
 I can not thread the path, 'tis lone and drear; 
 
 Oh, Saviour, lead me, or I go astray. 
 
 Oh, Jesus, help me, with the night so near. 
 
 Abide with me! Thy blessed word declares, 
 "I will not leave thee nor forsake thee, child. 
 
 In youth and manhood, e'en to hoary hairs, 
 I will not leave thee in the desert wild." 
 
 Abide with me ! my Saviour and my God, 
 I have no refuge from the storm, but Thee; 
 
 In life, in death, be Thou my staff and rod, 
 I'll reach my heaven if Thou abide with me. 
 9 
 
SOWING THE SEED 
 
 The morning hour is flying, 
 The noontide now has come, 
 
 And soon the pensive twihght 
 Will call the toiler home. 
 
 Oh, work while morning lingers, 
 Nor in the noontide stay 
 
 Thy hand, for vesper shadows 
 Will quickly end the day. 
 
 The Master's voice is calHng, 
 Then speed thee on thy way, 
 
 Eternity is dawning, 
 Oh, hasten to obey. 
 
 Seize ever}'^ golden hour. 
 Waste not a moment dear. 
 
 But fill thy days with sowing. 
 The precious seed with prayer. 
 
 Sow seed beside all waters. 
 Broadcast it o'er the ground, 
 
 And God will add his blessing. 
 And make the fruit abound. 
 
 10 
 
From seed must come the harvest, 
 From toil and faith the grain, 
 
 From God the sheaves immortal, 
 And heaven's eternal gain. 
 
 11 
 
HISTORICAL 
 
BLIND BARTIMEUS 
 
 'Twas morn in Judea, and banners of light 
 Were waving along the orient bright, 
 Like a bashful maiden the stars hied away, 
 And covered their faces in radiant day. 
 
 Adown where the Jordan was rolling along 
 Her billowy waters in classical song, 
 The morning, outstretching her magical sheen, 
 Was flooding with glory the watery scene. 
 
 The sun, from his chamber of treasures untold. 
 Now touches the landscape with fingers of gold ; 
 The woodland lights up, and the plain is bedight 
 With flashes that stream from his quarries of 
 light. 
 
 The matin's sweet songsters are trilling their lay, 
 From meadow and treetop, a sweet roundelay : 
 A medley of praise to the Power above 
 Who cares for his creatures and crowns them 
 with love. 
 
 All nature is vocal from valley to hill. 
 From Jericho's palmgrove to whispering rill, 
 Come breathings that rise as sweet incense on 
 
 high. 
 To welcome this nuptial of earth and of sky. 
 
 15 
 
Old Jericho, famous in story and song, 
 The refuge and boast of the Canaanite strong; 
 Ere Israel's Jehovah had smote with his eye 
 The pride of her leaders, her battlements high. 
 
 Though scourged and discrowned she has risen 
 
 again, 
 And gorgeous in sunlight she sits in the plain — 
 A guard to the gateway, a guide to the road 
 That leads to Mount Zion, the city of God. 
 
 The fathers and mothers of Israel's creed, 
 The young men and maidens of Abraham's 
 
 seed. 
 With Genti'es, unfettered by orthodox qualms. 
 Are this morning astir in the City of Palms. 
 
 For rumor hath spread, that from Galilee's shore 
 Jesus of Nazareth is coming once more: 
 The enigma to Jew, the marvel to Greek, 
 The matchless and holy, the lowly and meek. 
 
 The dwellers in mountain, in upland and glen, 
 Now anxiously crowd to the highway again. 
 The grave and the giddy, the rich and the poor. 
 Have come forth to cavil, to mock, to adore. 
 
 By the wayside, in blindness and poverty sore, 
 A beggar is seated, relief to implore, 
 Who, hearing the tumult that rose on the air, 
 Inquired the meaning of those who were near. 
 
 16 
 
"Tis Jesus of Nazareth who is now passing 
 
 by-" 
 It thrilled him with hope as he heard the reply, 
 And raising to heaven his lustreless eyes, 
 And hfting his voice to the Saviour he cries. 
 
 His cry for compassion is heard by the throng, 
 Who try by their jeering to silence his tongue. 
 But he with more ardor continues his plea: 
 ''Thou son of King David, have mercy on me. " 
 
 The ear ever open and ready to catch 
 
 The prayer of earth's meanest and lowliest 
 
 wretch, 
 Now hears the loud wail of the mendicant blind; 
 He halts in his journey — 0, wondrous and kind! 
 
 He calls for the sightless and hears his request, 
 He touches his eyeballs, when sweetest and best. 
 The day-dawn of Heaven, immortal and bright. 
 Now breaks on his spirit, now gleams on his 
 sight. 
 
 Bartimeus, transported, then follows his Lord, 
 To tell of his mercy, and feast on his word; 
 Above him the heavens transcendently shine. 
 And the highway is robed with a glory divine. 
 
 No wonder he follows — he cannot refrain, 
 A heart warm and grateful, his footsteps con- 
 strain — 
 
 17 
 
Up the steep of the mountains he lovingly- 
 pressed, 
 Till Jesus was welcomed to Bethany's rest. 
 
 O, thou, that didst pour on Bartimeus the day, 
 Illumine our orbs with thy heavenly ray; 
 Dispel the thick gloom of the sin-covered soul. 
 And through these dark chambers thy radi- 
 ance roll. 
 
 One gleam of thy smile, one glance of thine eye. 
 The light shall appear, the shadows shall fly; 
 And we, like Bartimeus reclaimed from the 
 
 night, 
 Shall sing of the raptures of glorified sight. 
 
 18 
 
NATURE 
 
EVENING IN THE CATOCTIN VALLEY 
 
 The golden sun is setting, 
 And with his beams is fretting 
 
 Hill and dale; 
 And on the fields of clover 
 His jeweled spangles hover 
 
 Like a veil. 
 
 No earthly artist clever, 
 
 E'er wrought in high endeavor 
 
 Such a scene, 
 As dying sun is sketching 
 On field and wood outstretching, 
 
 With his sheen. 
 
 He decks Catoctin's tower. 
 Where play the bolt and shower. 
 
 With his dyes; 
 And ether's realms he fringes 
 With gold and scarlet tinges, 
 
 Ere he dies. 
 
 But see, the sun has vanished, 
 His fervid glow is banished 
 
 From the hill; 
 And pensive evening shadows 
 Are stealing o'er the meadows 
 
 And the rill. 
 
 21 
 
The mountain sides grow bluer, 
 As loving friends grow truer 
 
 At the eve; 
 And twilight tints the fairest, 
 Like earthly dreams the rarest, 
 
 Quickly leave. 
 
 The bee has left the flower, 
 The bird has sought the bower 
 
 For the night; 
 And hushed the lowing cattle, 
 And ceased the reaper's rattle 
 
 Till the light. 
 
 As nature sweetly slumbers. 
 The soul, attuned by numbers 
 
 From on high. 
 Mounts up with faith supernal 
 And looks on scenes eternal 
 
 In the sky. 
 
 22 
 
SUNSET AND NIGHT BENEATH THE 
 CATOCTIN MOUNTAIN 
 
 The glory of the sunset bright 
 Still lingers on Catoctin's height; 
 While far above, on ether's breast 
 Entrancing shapes of beauty rest. 
 
 Imperial purple, softest green. 
 And blue and white of stainless sheen, 
 With varied tints of gorgeous dye 
 Combine to paint this world on high. 
 
 Beneath the tall and dizzy steep 
 The lengthening shades of twilight creep, 
 The mountain sides grow bluer still 
 And fades the light upon the hill. 
 
 As darker grows the dusky wood. 
 The moping owl, in plaintive mood 
 Sends through the solemn aisles her call 
 For absent mate in forest hall. 
 
 The daylight noises fainter grow, 
 The distant herd has ceased its low, 
 The bird has sought its downy nest, 
 And ''home, sweet home" allures to rest. 
 
 23 
 
And save the ripple of the rill, 
 
 The weird, sad note of whippoorwill, 
 
 The rustle of the leafy trees 
 
 That tussle with the truant breeze. 
 
 No sounds break on the listening ear, 
 And lulled the throbbing pulse of care: 
 And weirdly now the Ebon Queen 
 Lets down her mantle o'er the scene. 
 
 Mysterious night ! beneath thy sway 
 We turn our thoughts from garish day, 
 Beneath thy touch we raise the sight 
 To seats of innocence and light. 
 
 Mutation, change, and sad decay. 
 Here mark our ever varying way. 
 But, changeless still, in beauty rise 
 The sapphire pillars of the skies. 
 
 The vestal stars still brightly shine 
 As when they came from hands divine: 
 The Pleiads glow serenely fair. 
 And old Orion still is there. 
 
 Undimmed by age, unchanged by wars 
 God's own eternal radiant stars: 
 We turn from earth's dark tears and strife 
 And fain would pierce thy inner life. 
 
 24 
 
Do cloudless joy and changeless love 
 Make bright for aye thy home above? 
 And shall we find in loftier sphere 
 A home without a cloud or tear? 
 
 25 
 
WINTER THOUGHTS 
 
 Snow, snow, snow, from early morn till night, 
 On ground and roof and steeple tall. 
 On terraced walk and garden wall 
 
 Come down the flakelets white. 
 
 Blow, blow, blow, throughout the live-long 
 day, 
 The wind has piped his serenade, 
 And cut with his Damascus blade 
 
 The traveler in the way. 
 
 Drift, drift, drift, the piles fantastic grow. 
 And carried by the driving storm. 
 The bolts are wreathed in every form 
 
 Around, above, below. 
 
 Help, help, help, oh help God's worthy poor, 
 Who shiver in the wintry blast 
 And keep their lone and dreary fast. 
 
 And vainly bread implore. 
 
 Home, home, home, there is a home with 
 God, 
 For those who dry the tears of want. 
 For those who suffer famine gaunt, 
 
 Yet, kiss the chastening rod. 
 
 Published in Light. 
 
 26 
 
IN MEMORY OF 
 
IN MEMORY OF REV. B. C. FLOWERS 
 
 The hoary saint from youth to age 
 Moved on in Zion's narrow road, 
 
 In sunshine clear and tempest's rage 
 His eye was ever fixed on God. 
 
 He often named the sacred spot 
 Where first his Saviour drew him near, 
 
 Shrewsbury Camp was ne'er forgot 
 While he could tell the story dear. 
 
 He never wearied of the tale, 
 A thousand times he told it o'er. 
 
 He spread the news from hill to dale, 
 He told it to the rich and poor. 
 
 For three score years he bore the cross, 
 
 The easy burden of his Lord, 
 And counted all things here but loss. 
 
 So he might gain the great reward. 
 
 In patient faith he toiled along 
 
 As days and months and years rolled by, 
 And never ceased to sing the song 
 
 That breathed of hope beyond the sky. 
 
 29 
 
And when his heart and flesh grew weak, 
 And wasting age had brought decay, 
 
 His tottering footsteps still would seek 
 God's sacred house to praise and pray. 
 
 When earth grew dark, and all around 
 Seemed lost to ear and sense and sight, 
 
 His inner soul, alive to song, 
 Caught up the notes of love and light. 
 
 "Amen!" he said, ''Amen!" again. 
 While "Happy!" trembled on his breath; 
 
 Oh, wondrous love! that sweetens pain 
 And saves His chosen ones in death. 
 
 30 
 
TO MY MOTHER 
 
 Thy long and weary strife is done; 
 Thy home is gained, thy rest begun; 
 The crown immortal has been won, 
 The crown of life and glory. 
 
 From blushing morn to eve serene, 
 From youth to age, thy life has been 
 A life of faith in the unseen, 
 But ever-present. Saviour. 
 
 The skeptic in his cheerless night. 
 The bigot in his soulless rite; 
 Ah! where are they in death's stern fight 
 Beside the armoured Christian? 
 
 Can science rare, or wizard art. 
 Or worldly love such joy impart, 
 Or bring assurance to the heart 
 In death's impressive hour? 
 
 Celestial faith! to those alone 
 The secret of thy love is known 
 Who meekly trust the Sinless Son, 
 The image of the Father. 
 
 31 
 
O, Mother dear, thy faith subhme 
 Has surely conquered sin and time; 
 And victor now in cloudless clime 
 Thou shalt rejoice forever. 
 
 32 
 
IN MEMORY OF T. E. P. 
 
 Blessed little baby, 
 
 Robed today in white, 
 Stainless as the snowflake 
 
 That falls on mountain height. 
 
 Thy tiny hands are folded 
 Across thy pulseless breast, 
 
 And nestling in the pillow 
 Thy head has found its rest. 
 
 Thy childish tongue is silent, 
 And hushed thy moans and cries. 
 
 Thy angel-smile has vanished, 
 And closed the darling eyes. 
 
 Sweet baby! art thou sleeping? 
 
 Or is thy spirit fled? 
 And do thy lips unmoving 
 
 But whisper thou art dead? 
 
 'Tis hard, thou sweetest cherub. 
 To give thee to the tomb. 
 
 But through it Jesus calls us 
 To heaven's immortal bloom. 
 
 33 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 During the winter we noticed a one-legged sparrow hop- 
 ping around in the street and the yard picking up food. 
 On the 13th day of January (Sunday), which every one will 
 remember as one of the coldest and most inclement days of 
 the season — a day to be remembered for its cutting cold and 
 terrible rigor— this little cripple with a whole covey of his 
 fellows, took refuge in the back porch of my house, sheltered 
 from the blast. We presume they came for the double purpose, 
 protection and food. We noticed little one leg in the crowd 
 and then left them to the enjojTiient of their meal. Again 
 when we saw them our little fellow was on his back, gasping 
 for breath, and all efforts to revive him proved unavailing. 
 These lines were inspired by his death and are dedicated to 
 Miss Adriana Bateman. — Thomas E. Pope. 
 
 With only one leg a sparrow was found, 
 Busy with fellows inspecting the ground, 
 Looking for food, in the yard and the street, 
 Looking for shelter, from storm and from sleet. 
 One day when tempest held carnival high. 
 When the cold cut keen, and the wind swept by, 
 This wee little cripple, this emblem of woe. 
 This beggar for alms, in the rain and the snow, 
 Sought covert and warmth — this tiny outcast, 
 This shelterless child, this waif of the blast — 
 In nook of the porch, where kindness had laid, 
 Some crumbs from the kitchen, some morsels of 
 bread. 
 
 34 
 
Oh, Life! how we covet the wonderful thing, 
 More priceless than gold, or the realms of a king, 
 Its minutes improved, will fit for the skies, 
 Its moments misspent, we shall miss of the prize. 
 The bird that scents danger and flies for its life, 
 To rock of the mountain, when the earthquake is 
 
 rife. 
 Is the creature of instinct, and bows to the hand 
 That pinions the heavens and steadies the land. 
 The sparrow, constrained by the elements sore, 
 Begged food and refreshment and life at the door. 
 But all his poor efforts were destined to fail, 
 As his strength faded out on the breath of the gale; 
 Still gasping for breath, this mendicant poor 
 Was found all unconscious, his back to the floor, 
 When hands used to tenderness lifted his frame, 
 And tried to win backward the flickering flame. 
 Dear Chick-a-dee-dee, his sweet little song 
 Still lingers in memory the snow flakes among, 
 A blossom of childhood, the children still see 
 The poor little fellow out under the tree; 
 Little Chick has departed, his glory has fled, 
 His song, with its sweetness is silent and dead. 
 For this British marauder, the sparrow, has come 
 And stolen his birthright and rifled his home. 
 An arrant freebooter, courageous and bold. 
 Still challenges pity when he dies in the cold : 
 A type of old England, the royal and brave. 
 Who rides on the whirlwind and lives on the wave. 
 
 35 
 
Then tenderly lei; us deposit his clay, 
 
 All his foibles forget, all his virtues display; 
 
 Let him rest in the grave, where his fellows have 
 
 gone. 
 To the land of forgetfulness silent and lone. 
 
 36 
 
TO MARY 
 
 She died : the fair, the beautiful, 
 
 When all around was bright, 
 When summer birds were singing 
 
 Their anthems of delight; 
 When flowers were gaily blooming 
 
 And springing into birth, 
 And everything was redolent 
 
 Of happiness and mirth. 
 
 She died when skies were fairest 
 
 And sweetest to behold, 
 And Heaven's softest azure 
 
 In beauty was unrolled; 
 When orient skies gleamed brightly 
 
 In morning's beams arrayed. 
 And sunset skies blushed deeply 
 
 With golden tints inlaid. 
 
 When Love, the young magician. 
 
 With all his native art. 
 Was spreading round his meshes 
 
 To captivate the heart. 
 When Hope, the angel artist, 
 
 That paints the future bright. 
 Was singing his sweet promises 
 
 Within her bosom light. 
 
 37 
 
 ^ 
 
Ah then, ^weet, gentle Mary, 
 
 When life beat full and high. 
 Bowed to the summons to depart, 
 
 And laid her down to die. 
 A gleam of sky-born hope illumed 
 
 Her face in parting breath. 
 And with a soft, sweet smile of love, 
 
 She sank to sleep in death. 
 
 In yonder churchyard lonely 
 
 They made her lowly bed; 
 Beneath the willows weeping 
 
 In sorrow for the dead. 
 There, birds shall sing their sweetest 
 
 And softest lays of love; 
 And spring's first violets blossom 
 
 In loveliness above, 
 
 I know of places hallowed. 
 
 By tender ties, and soft; 
 Whose thrilling recollections 
 
 Vibrate through memory oft. 
 But ah, there's not on earthly ground 
 
 A spot so sweet to me. 
 As that where gentle Mary sleeps 
 
 Beneath the willow tree. 
 Frederick City, Md., January, 1852. 
 
 38 
 
WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF 
 BROTHER'S DEATH, WHICH TOOK 
 PLACE ON THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER, 
 
 1857 
 
 When decrepit age is stricken by the hand of 
 death, we may find some alleviation of the 
 affliction in the reflection that they have filled 
 their allotted time, and have fallen into the grave 
 when the burden of years bore heavily upon them. 
 But oh, how different when those are cut down 
 who have just entered upon the threshold of life! 
 How it lacerates the bosom, how it thrills the 
 heart with anguish, to consign them to the tomb 
 in the flower of their youth, in the bright morning 
 of their existence! 
 
 "But Youth and Hope and Beauty's bloom 
 Are blossoms gathered for the tomb — 
 There's nothing true but Heaven." 
 
 Farewell, may the sod rest lightly upon thy 
 bosom, and the flowers of Spring blow sweetly 
 upon thy grave; while thy happy spirit, freed 
 from the cares and sufferings of life, is feasting 
 upon the joys of an everlasting salvation. 
 
 39 
 
 •^ts^BBsasemaa 
 
ADDRESSED TO 
 
TO MISS MATTIE: IN ACKNOWLEDG- 
 MENT OF HER WREATH* 
 
 Sweet flowers! mute types of a lovelier clime 
 Where the storms never come from the dark 
 
 shores of time, 
 Where the bright eye of beauty ne'er dims with a 
 
 tear, 
 And her soft cheek forever is blooming and fair. 
 Fair flowers! en wreathed in a circle complete, 
 A sjonbol, I trust, of the harmony sweet 
 That shall keep in a circle, unbroken and blest, 
 The states of Columbia, bright Star of the West! 
 Chaste flowers! May heaven's choice blessing and 
 
 kind 
 Be hers, who so sweetly thy beauties entwined: 
 On earth may she have a pure union of love. 
 An earnest of union eternal above. 
 Frederick, November, 1860. 
 
 *0n a wreath from M. M. R., at Union Procession, on 
 Tuesday night, November 5, 1860. 
 
 43 
 
TO ONE: THAT MAGIC SMILE 
 
 There's magic in the sunny smile 
 
 That lightens o'er that face of thine, 
 And as I gaze, enrapt the while. 
 
 It seems to grow almost divine. 
 'Tis past : I cannot now behold 
 
 That winning smile so softly bright. 
 That often in the days of old 
 
 Has thrilled my bosom with delight. 
 
 But oft, amid life's jostling cares. 
 
 That sunny smile will come again. 
 And with the radiant light it bears 
 
 Dispel the gloom in sorrow's train. 
 Like some bright vision of the past 
 
 That Hes enshrined in memory's vase. 
 That smile around my heart has cast 
 
 A charm that time cannot erase. 
 A talisman of hope and love, 
 
 A beacon in the stormy night. 
 That smile e'en points the way above 
 
 Where all is love and all is Ught. 
 
 44 
 
LINES WRITTEN IN ROBBIE WEECH'S 
 ALBUM 
 
 Learn to tread the path in childhood, 
 
 Learn to walk it with delight; 
 'Twill lead thee to a glorious manhood, 
 
 And flush thy end with holy light. 
 This path — it is the path of Duty — 
 
 May not lead thee o'er beds of down. 
 Its sides may not be fringed with beauty, 
 
 This royal highway to a crown. 
 But keep the way, though toil and sorrow 
 
 May cast their shadows o'er the road, 
 For bye and bye, some glorious morrow 
 
 Will bring the end — the end is God! 
 
 45 
 
WRITTEN IN MISS E. A.'S ALBUM, ON 
 CHRISTMAS DAY, 1861 
 
 Merry Christmas! What sweet associations 
 cluster about the name! What thrilHng memories 
 start to life under the magic influences of the 
 hallowed day! How the sweet, smiling faces of 
 old friends appear before us again under the 
 strange power of its talismanic touch. We live 
 over again in imagination the sweet, bright days, 
 when Father, Mother, sisters, and brothers were 
 all gathered around the fireside; when old Santa 
 Claus spread out all his tempting treasures 
 before us, and when laughter, and song, and 
 innocent hilarity smiled over a circle, held to- 
 gether by the golden chain of Love and un visited 
 by the hand of Death. 
 
 Sad memories, but incident to a life made up 
 of lights and shadows, care and pleasure, joy 
 and sadness. 
 
 I would fain hope that my fair young friend, 
 though sorrow and sadness may sometimes be 
 her portion, may always have a merry Christmas. 
 May the day for her be ever brightened by the 
 pure and sunny light that beams from the eyes 
 of true friendship and love. May her declining 
 
 46 
 
days be cheered by the holy radiance that catches 
 its lustre from the religion of Him, whose advent 
 into our world was announced by angels on 
 Christmas morn, more than eighteen hundred 
 years ago. 
 
 47 
 
PERSONAL 
 
A LIFE EXPERIENCE 
 
 I feel I'm getting older, the shadows longer grow, 
 And life has lost its freshness, its vigor, and its 
 
 glow: 
 The hills of morning, nimbly climbed, are hazy 
 
 in the East, 
 As down the slopes of sunset I journey to the West. 
 
 Oh, wondrous, subtle something, this human life 
 
 we know, 
 This web of light and shadow, of gladness and of 
 
 woe: 
 Ah, who would travel back from age to thread the 
 
 maze again, 
 And wage once more the dubious strife with 
 
 worldliness and sin? 
 
 Can we forget the tender loves enshrined in 
 
 memory's well, 
 The pure, unselfish friendships that hnger like a 
 
 spell; 
 The myriad voices of our youth that trill their 
 
 songs anew, 
 The lullabies of happier years when cares and 
 
 sins were few : 
 
 51 
 
The dear old hotne of childhood, though dimly 
 seen through tears, 
 
 Where all that's best we felt and knew within 
 the circling years; 
 
 Where Mother reigned without a peer, the love- 
 liest and the best, 
 
 And lured us with her holy song from weariness 
 to rest? 
 
 Who would exchange the precious thoughts that 
 
 cling around the hearth : 
 The priceless prayers of Mother, the holiest 
 
 things of earth. 
 Her deathless love, her saintly smile, her triumphs 
 
 at the cross, 
 For all the baubles of the world, its glitter and 
 
 its dross? 
 
 Ah, no, this life is what it is, unalterably so, 
 
 I would not live it o'er again, e'en if I this could do; 
 
 For if the monster. Death, unbars the pearly 
 
 gates of day, 
 Oh, who would linger in the gloom, or in the body 
 
 stay? 
 
 Sometimes my weary footsteps lag along the 
 
 toilsome road, 
 And heart and flesh are sorely tried to bear the 
 
 heavy load; 
 
 52 
 
Yet in the grace that God supplies through His 
 
 eternal Son, 
 I'll gladly tread the pilgrim way till life's last day 
 
 is done. 
 
 Anon deep sorrows come to me along the travelled 
 
 vale, 
 And shadows take a deeper tint when cares and 
 
 doubts assail : 
 But, blessed Faith, God's chosen lamp, supplies 
 
 her steady ray 
 To cheer me in the sohtude, and point the upward 
 
 way. 
 
 If twilight veils the valley, there's dawn beyond 
 the height; 
 
 If darkness gathers 'round me, the distant hills 
 grow bright : 
 
 See, now the light is breaking above the head- 
 lands fair. 
 
 The sweet immortal sunshine, the Beulah land is 
 there. 
 
 Dear home beyond the shadows, dear home be- 
 yond the tide. 
 
 Where life is ever blooming and summer songs 
 abide : 
 
 Jerusalem the golden — nor tear, nor sigh can 
 come 
 
 Within thy hallowed precincts — my soul's eternal 
 home. 
 
 53 
 
RETROSPECTION 
 
 A retrospect at sixty-two, 
 Vouchsafed to some — God's chosen few — 
 Brings joy and comfort to the heart 
 If we have acted well our part. 
 
 We have no merit of our own, 
 
 It's all through grace, through grace alone, 
 
 And if we live a faithful life 
 
 He'll crown us victors in the strife. 
 
 We owe it all to Christ, our Lord, 
 Who shelters all that trust his word, 
 Who ever hves to save his own 
 And crown them on his royal throne. 
 
 Ah, wondrous thing, a life of faith! 
 Exultant thought, that Jesus saith, 
 ''Come unto me, and ye shall live. 
 Come unto me for I'll forgive." 
 
 May God who led us safe thus far, 
 Be still our light and guiding star, 
 Till Jesus sweetly calls us ''Come," 
 To find our rest with him at home. 
 
 54 
 
GENERAL 
 
ACROSTIC 
 [Emma Jane Pope] 
 
 Evening comes with trailing shadows 
 Made of soft and sombre gray; 
 Mystic Hghts and solemn quavers, 
 All foretell the closing day. 
 
 Jewels sparkle in the fountain, 
 
 All unseen by mortal eye; 
 
 Night outstretching, hill and mountain 
 
 Enrobed in blackness fade and die. 
 
 Purple light bespeaks the dawning, 
 Opening day dispels the night, 
 Pristine glories robe the morning. 
 Emblems of eternal light. 
 
 67 
 
LINES WRITTEN UPON TAKING DOWN 
 THE COURT HOUSE RAILING 
 
 The dear old Court House railing! and must it 
 
 really go? 
 Can nothing hold the vandal hand, or stay the 
 
 cruel blow? 
 Will not the pleasant memories that cluster 
 
 'round the place 
 Rise up in solemn protest against the deep 
 
 disgrace? 
 "Who cares for this?" — I hear one say — 'Hhe 
 
 dim and musty past 
 Is buried with its memories;" — the stern icono- 
 clast ! — 
 "The day of progress now has come and down 
 
 must go the rails." 
 And out shall flash the noble Park, unless the 
 
 bazaar fails : 
 But with the ladies at the helm success looms up 
 
 apace. 
 The Park puts on her robe of light, her glory and 
 
 her grace. 
 Within her glorious precincts, her choicest, cosiest 
 
 spot, 
 I see the marble column rise to heroes unforgot. 
 
 58 
 
Then, Colonel John, don't get the jerks because 
 
 the boys in blue 
 Propose to raise a marble shaft to comrades tried 
 
 and true. 
 There is no fitter, better place in all the town 
 
 beside 
 To rear a graceful monument to these. Our 
 
 Country's Pride. 
 Then, when the gallant soldier boys have raised 
 
 their marble shaft. 
 They will not care if Bowlus bold, or any of his 
 
 craft. 
 Should in the sacred precincts, a little corner pick, 
 In which to rear a statue to pretty little Vic. 
 He'd make a handsome figure in that dress so 
 
 fine and gay. 
 Which he flourished when the Carroll Guards 
 
 stept out in bold array. 
 And for a little background the pay-boat and its 
 
 crew 
 Upon the angry-waved Canal would be unique 
 
 and new. 
 And, if you please, in miniature, a print of 
 
 Bowlus' face 
 Might ornament this masterpiece, 'twould just 
 
 be in its place. 
 And then the Park would surely bloom, the 
 
 boodle surely flow. 
 
 But all the same the people dear must pay the 
 
 bill, you know. 
 69 
 
CHRISTMAS RECITATION 
 
 Welcome old Santa Claus, grizzly and mellow, 
 A trusty, and faithful, and good natured fellow! 
 He comes once a year from the regions of ice, 
 And brings to the little ones everything nice. 
 He darts up the hill, and scoots down the valley. 
 He climbs o'er the wall, and runs down the alley. 
 I really can't see how he carries his pack 
 As down the old chimney he goes with a whack! 
 Old Santa is smart and works like a beaver, 
 Or how could he get such nice things together? 
 But how he can make just enough to go 'round 
 Is a secret, I tell you, I never have found. 
 
 60 
 
TO THE HEROES OF THE PARK 
 
 In every age great men arise, 
 Who crown their days with enterprise; 
 At every turn they leave their mark, 
 With here a statue, there a park. 
 Some men have made their Hves sublime 
 And left their impress on all time, 
 And future ages still shall claim 
 An interest in their matchless fame; 
 In epic tale and lyric lay 
 Their names and deeds shall live for aye 
 And history's muse with vestal care 
 Shall keep alive their memory dear. 
 This age, when shoddy fills the land 
 And fraud and brass go hand in hand, 
 And arrant shams their hobbies ride 
 To draw the groundlings to their side; 
 E'en in this day of greed and pelf, 
 When men but live to pamper self, 
 Some noble heroes still arise 
 Who give their lives to sacrifice. 
 Some men of this imperial race, 
 Vouchsafed to Frederick — lucky place — 
 Seem likely to attain the goal 
 
 61 
 
And carve their names on honor's scroll. 
 These worthies of our classic town, 
 With princely and esthetic frown, 
 Have in their noble hearts decreed 
 For Court House rails we have no need. 
 "Pull down the rails" they glibly cry, 
 ''A park, a park," the pack reply, 
 And statues fine and fountains fair 
 And walks artistic, flowers rare. 
 Shall make this spot an Eden home 
 Where all that choose may freely come, 
 And sit and think, and sweetly tell 
 The way the Court House railings fell. 
 But ah! there's one essential yet 
 To make complete the coronet, 
 That ever waits to crown the brow 
 Of deathless heroes here below. 
 Oh! doughty knights do not abate 
 Your efforts in a work so great. 
 Rise to the height, the glorious height, 
 By shelling out your shekels bright. 
 Now warriors of the mystic park 
 'Twill never do to miss your mark ; 
 Retreat inglorious from the field 
 Will bring disgrace upon your shield. 
 To beg for funds the country through 
 Is not the way that heroes do. 
 Then open now your purse-strings tight. 
 And let your ducats see the light. 
 
 62 
 
A deed like this, heroic, bold, 
 Will show like knightly men of old. 
 And just as sure as fame endures, 
 An immortality is yours. 
 
 Sic Transit. 
 
 63 / 
 
 t 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 Merry Christmas! childhood sprightly 
 Smiles thee welcome as of yore; 
 
 Cottage rude and palace sightly 
 Open wide to thee their door. 
 
 Where'er they read the thrilling story 
 
 Of a lowly Saviour's birth, 
 Of his manger, death and glory, 
 
 There they'll take thee to their hearth. 
 
 Christmas! memories sad and golden, 
 Soft as summer evening's ray. 
 
 Of the scenes and faces olden. 
 Cluster round thy hallow'd day. 
 
 Memories of old friends and loving. 
 Who have flitted like a dream. 
 
 O'er the tide forever moving 
 To death's dark and mystic stream. 
 
 Thoughts of sister and of brother, 
 And our pure, unclouded glee. 
 
 As dear father and fond mother 
 Pointed out the Christmas tree. 
 
 64 
 
Methinks I see that smile of pleasure 
 Lighting mother's face once more, 
 
 As she shares us out the treasure 
 From old Santa Claus's store. 
 
 Back through years of joy and sadness 
 Comes that gentle voice again, 
 
 Telling of that tale of gladness, 
 Told on blest Judea's plain; 
 
 When an angel throng appearing, 
 
 Radiant with celestial light. 
 Sang to shepherds wond'ring, fearing, 
 
 Watching o'er their flocks by night. 
 
 "Fear ye not, for down from heaven, 
 Lo! we bring good news and dear, 
 
 Peace on earth, good will be given 
 To all people, far and near. " 
 
 Thought of sorrow, sad reflection, 
 That sweet smile is fled away, 
 
 And that voice of deep affection. 
 Hushed in death this Christmas day. 
 
 Thus these thoughts of friends departed, 
 'Shrined in gentle mem'ry's urn, 
 
 From their dreamy sleep have started 
 
 At the sound of thy return. 
 65 
 
Other hearte elastic, glowing, 
 Meet thee with a pure deUght, 
 
 Without a sad remembrance, knowing 
 Thou hast for them but joy and hght. 
 
 But sad or gladsome the emotion 
 Which thou bringest to the breast. 
 
 The hearts that own a true devotion, 
 Will greet thee as a welcome guest. 
 Frederick, Md. 
 
 66 
 
TWILIGHT HOUR 
 
 How sweet at twilight hour, 
 
 When dews are falHng fast, 
 To seek some quiet bower 
 
 To muse upon the past. 
 When stars by one come peeping 
 
 From out their home above. 
 How magic memory, leaping, 
 
 Reverts to those we love. 
 
 67 
 
ADIEU TO HOME AND FRIENDS 
 
 The sad, the mournful hour has come 
 
 When we must say farewell 
 To all the tender ties of home, 
 
 And friends we love so well. 
 How throbs the loving, aching heart 
 
 To leave these scenes so dear, 
 How fill the eyes with tears to part 
 
 From all we cherish here. 
 
 What thrilling recollections throng 
 
 About the memory now: 
 The friends of youth, the treasured song 
 
 We early learned to know. 
 The cherished haunts of other days, 
 
 Come o'er the mind once more. 
 And friends we loved in smiles and tears, 
 
 Beam on us as of yore. 
 
 One moment more we'll linger yet. 
 
 And then a last good-bye 
 To scenes we never can forget. 
 
 And will not till we die. 
 A last adieu! how sad the sound — 
 
 It falls upon the ear 
 Like mournful winds that sigh around 
 
 In winter, cold and drear. 
 
 68 
 
We've had the last fond Hngering look, 
 
 The parting scene is o'er, 
 But now the thought I can not brook, 
 
 That we shall meet no more. 
 Bright hope comes in, and softly sweet 
 
 She whispers in our ear, 
 ''Though parted now you all may meet 
 
 With joy without a fear." 
 July, 1855. 
 
 69 
 
GOD BLESS YOU 
 
 God bless you, darling, when the morn 
 Shames far away the mists of night, 
 
 And trails above the rip'ning com 
 Her gorgeous glory-robes of hght. 
 
 God bless you when the regal sun 
 Sits throned in majesty on high, 
 
 And swift his fiery coursers run 
 Adown the arches of the sky. 
 
 God bless you when the sunset tints 
 Hang from the battlements of heaven, 
 
 And day a last, warm kiss imprints 
 Upon the gentle brow of even. 
 
 God bless you in calm midnight's hours. 
 When Luna walks among her stars. 
 
 And stars on earth their radiance shower 
 In countless, slender, silver spars. 
 
 God bless you, may your sleep be sweet 
 And fraught with bright and peaceful 
 dreams, 
 And, waking, may your youthful feet 
 
 Tread 'mid Love's flowers by crystal 
 streams. 
 
 70 
 
God bless you, guard you ever more, 
 And keep you in the path of truth, 
 
 Which leads to that fair sinless shore 
 Where flows the living fount of youth. 
 
 71 
 
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