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-fA 
 
 SONGS 
 
 NOON AND NIGHT. 
 
 BY 
 
 M. ELYA WOOD 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO., PUBLISHERS. 
 
 1866. 
 

 Entkred according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1866, by 
 
 M. ELVA WOOD, 
 
 In the Clerli's Oflace of the United States District Court for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 JOHN J REEI>, PRINTER, 43 CENTRE-ST , N. Y 
 
D E D 1 C ATI O N 
 
 \ 
 
 TO 
 
 %\t llm0rH 
 
 BELOVED MOTHER. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Peelude 11 
 
 To a Mountain Lilj 15 
 
 MELANIUS. 
 
 Melanius 19 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Trinity Bells 41 
 
 The Fantasia 45 
 
 The Sparrow Guest 48 
 
 Wine 52 
 
 Notre Dame 55 
 
 Song of the Desert Jasper 58 
 
vi CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Christmas-Tide 61 
 
 Life 63 
 
 Chapelle du Calvaire 66 
 
 Stars and Stripes TO 
 
 Crowns 72 
 
 Abou Goosh 75 
 
 Flag of England 78 
 
 The Immolation 81 
 
 Christ's Garden 83 
 
 Song of the Forgemen 85 
 
 The Bereaved ' 88 
 
 The Belfry 91 
 
 Heart Senses 96 
 
 October 99 
 
 Violets on the Battlefield 101 
 
 Gems and Genius 106 
 
 The River 108 
 
 To a Minstrel , Ill 
 
 Home 114 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Pastoral 116 
 
 Rural Sounds 118 
 
 The Yoyagers 120 
 
 Wild Asters 123 
 
 Laurel Hill 125 
 
 The School in the Highlands 128 
 
 THE GALLERY. 
 Bess 133 
 
 Nell 136 
 
 The Sewing Girl 139 
 
 The Fisher's Daughter 142 
 
 Niagara 144 
 
 Home in the Oatskills 145 
 
 May 149, 
 
 Picture of Miriam 151 
 
 Homestead on the Mohawk 153 
 
 Eve 155 
 
 The Insane 158 
 
viii CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGW 
 
 The Step-Daugliter 161 
 
 Christ by the Sea of Tiberias 165 
 
 To a ITun in the Sacred Heart Convent 168 
 
 The Mill 170 
 
 Early Spring 173 
 
 Disowned 175 
 
 THE AMBERS. 
 
 A Line of Ambers 180 
 
 Contentment 181 
 
 The Soldier 183 
 
 Fruition 186 
 
 The Maiden's Friend 189 
 
 Humility 192 
 
 The Watcher's Warning 195 
 
 BUNCH OF KUE. 
 
 The Forsaken 199 
 
 Caprice 201 
 
CONTENTS, ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Oanzonie , 203 
 
 O ]^ot for Me 205 
 
 Come Home 207 
 
 The Dreamer's Wedding 210 
 
 Dead Rose 214 
 
 Lucy and 1 216 
 
 RO BEKT. 
 Robert 221 
 
 :^S^' 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 "7" STOOD within the solemn wood and heard, 
 
 From the far-sounding beach the wild sea moan; 
 And 'mid the cloister of the hills I saw, 
 The softly flowing river murmuring on. 
 Around me, bloomed the fragrant anemone' 
 In glossy clusters, freighting all the air 
 With the rich perfume of its honied breath ; 
 And clinging yines and lowly blossoms sweet. 
 Lent theh small meed of beauty to the scene. 
 
 The waterfall its crystal wealth sent down 
 Among the grey old rocks ; and echo's voice 
 Repeated its glad music to the hills. 
 
12 PRELUDE. 
 
 While far away, along the radiant blue, 
 
 The white clouds freighted by a bounteous hand, 
 
 On their swift mission hasted to restore 
 
 The wasted stream, or fill the emptied pool : 
 
 Where patient herds with meek, contented eyes. 
 
 In noontide heat shall lap the cooling tide, 
 
 And look the thanks, that even man withholds. 
 
 White glowed the harvest : flecking all the plain 
 
 With glimmering gold ; and nearer by, the boughs 
 
 Of the full orchard, swung up to the light 
 
 Its mellow treasures, to invite the taste. 
 
 Or wake the heart to gentle gratitude. 
 
 And as I gazed upon these breathing things, 
 
 Inanimate, yet eloquent, as with souls 
 
 They spoke, a gentle voice came whispering unto me, 
 
 Lute-Uke and still. Like as the dreamy sound 
 
 Of vesper-music ; or the spirit tones 
 
PRELUDE. 13 
 
 Of a remembered song, whose echoes float, 
 Far from the faded Past, and only wake 
 Then- sweet uncertain strams on Memory's lyre. 
 
 And, since that day, this gentle voice hath been 
 Singing its pleasant stories in my breast, 
 Till I have learned to love its lulling sound : 
 Sometimes to woo its tender ebb and flow 
 In hymns of praise : unto th' great One who sits 
 Throned in the Heavens ! In whose hands are held 
 The golden balances ! Wherewith He brings 
 Judgment and Justice unto the Nations, — 
 That call to Him like children at His feet. 
 
 Of humbler themes too it hath sung : of Time 
 And Change, his truest friend ; and oft 
 Of Beauty too, — the light of Woman's eyes ; 
 And of the Trees, — the G:olden dow and sheen 
 
14 PRELUDE. 
 
 Of lovely Nature, in her garlands clrest. 
 Of youthful Love, — albeit the theme too sad, 
 The tender tones grow tremulous and fail. 
 Heavy with tears ; and mine own eyes o'erflow 
 With bearing them sweet sympathy. 
 
 And now, 
 Like frailest pearls, bound by the slenderest string 
 I have been weaving some of these strange songs 
 For mortal eyes. 
 
 Even as you gaze 
 On Nature's lowly gifts : the tinted shell, 
 The shining pebble, or the humble flower. 
 That on the stormy strand or desolate moor 
 Reads its kind lesson to the mourning heart, 
 So look on these ; and pass them by as things 
 The mind may own as trifles : that lured thy glance 
 And pleased thee for an hour ; and, gentle reader, 
 Know I ask no more. 
 
TO A MOUNTAIN LILY. 15 
 
 TO A MOUNTAIN LILY. 
 
 FALE flower upou the moor ! 
 When o'er the starry floor 
 Of the new Heaven, flashed che virgin light ; 
 Methinks the vestal sod, 
 Warmed by the breath of God, 
 Teemed with the glory of thy spotless white. 
 
 Then, when the Earth was young 
 
 From her pure bosom sprung 
 Thy radiant beauty, like an incense sweet : 
 
 And still thy snowy heart 
 
 Seems like a prayer apart, 
 Where all good thoughts, and tender meanings meet. 
 
 And though the blackened pall 
 Of sin, hath covered all, 
 
16 TO A MOUNTAIN LILY. 
 
 And blood and wrong liatli marked the tracks of men ; 
 
 Upon this mountain way 
 
 I meet thee here to-day, 
 Thy innocent beauty, pure and white as then. 
 
 Here joining the glad psalm 
 
 That hovers like a balm, 
 Down from the pages of Nature's lovely book ; 
 
 Thou dost His blessed will 
 
 In all thy life fulfill ; 
 With breathings soft, and mild contented look. 
 
 *- 
 
MELANIUS. 
 
MELANIUS. 
 
 A STORY OF THE CHRISTIAN PERSECUTION UNDER 
 VALERIAN.* 
 
 s^< HE sun rose bright on Rome : and from 
 
 the sea, 
 
 Flashed the red glory of his glowing shield ; 
 Emblazoning with deep scintilating gold 
 The thousand marble palaces that rose, 
 Like fretted glaciers, massive, broad, and grand, 
 Above the city walls. Dark between, 
 
 * The hint of this Poem was suggested by the incidents 
 given of the conversion of Alciphron to Christianity, through 
 the instrumentality of a young Christian maiden, an Egyp- 
 tian, to whom he was betrothed, and who suffered martyr- 
 dom at that time. 
 
20 MELANIUS. 
 
 Dim Temples lifted high their shining domes, 
 Huge, and casting far grey frowning shadows. 
 Where evermore within the purple shade, 
 Swayed the blue banners of the incense breath. 
 
 It was a gala day. From early dawn 
 Gay floating streamers sent then- crimson lines 
 Along the sky ; and music's voice was heard 
 In thrilling echoes, where the ardent throng. 
 In swift and changing eddies, to and fro. 
 Shifted and wavered on the dusty way : 
 In eager haste to hail the coming show, 
 That from the Campus Martins, when the Noon 
 Sent down his fires upon the Tiber's wave. 
 Was heralded to come. Even as the winds 
 With tides unsteady, and full overfraught 
 Tremble with storm upon the frowning sky, ; 
 Till poised at last, sweep down in scathing lines, 
 
MELANIUS. 21 
 
 So moved the pageant bold. A long array, 
 Headed by braying trumpeters, that shook 
 With clash, and din, the smoky, dusty airs : 
 Horsemen in gUnting armors bearing flags 
 Blood-stauied and worn — trophies of old wars — 
 Soldiers with open swords, virgins and priests, 
 Over their swaying censors chaunting songs 
 Unto the imaged gods they bore along, 
 And last of all, followmg the gilt-horned beasts 
 For sacrifice, a bowed and silent band 
 With saddened brows, and eyes that humbly bent 
 Forevermore their glances to the ground : 
 In solemn thought enwrapt ; oblivious all 
 Unto the hollow show, save that they trod 
 With scarred and shackled feet the weary way. 
 
 And who arc these ? 
 
 The bounden ones ! The Captives ! 
 Trophies they, that iron Power and Hate 
 
22 MELAFIUS. 
 
 Have sifted out from His fair, peaceful Kingdom : 
 Have gathered iu by cruel mandate stern, 
 From the far desert-lands, where, like lorn sheep 
 Shorn of their shepherd, they had huddled down 
 In dark Elethyan caves, beside the banks 
 Of the lone friendly Nile. Drinking the dews, 
 With the wild antelopes amid the rocks. 
 And gathering up the slender herbage there 
 To eke the life, well spent in praising God — 
 The Christian's God : wherefore they have come 
 Like lambs unto the slaughter — still, and dumb ! 
 
 Slow knolled the mournful tabor 'neath the domes 
 Of the dark pillared Forum ; where they kilelt — 
 This nttle band knelt low upon the floor — 
 Knelt down amid their tears and helpless woe 
 Within the shadow of the judgment seat : 
 Where masked in royal purples sat the Judge ; 
 
MELANIUS. 23 
 
 And at his side the fiendish Orcus, now 
 
 From his far Memphian Temples come, 
 
 To bring quick doom upon these Christian hearts : 
 
 That kept within them Faith's pure vestal fires, 
 
 And owned the Christian's God, the only and the true. 
 
 " Unto the gods ! lo ! now the incense pour ! — 
 
 Unto the gods we worship ! Know the hand 
 
 Or lip that shall refuse such homage here, 
 
 Ere yet the morrow shall have dawned shall pay 
 
 Its penal tribute to the angry gods ! 
 
 Ere yet the morrow shall have dawned, shall feel 
 
 The flame's hot breath, the rack, the stinging wheel !'' 
 
 Around them gleaming like a wall of steel, 
 
 In the red sunlight, flashed the soldiers' arms : 
 
 Above them, twining in its murky folds 
 
 The glowing glory of the parting day, 
 
24 MEL Am US. 
 
 Arose the incense cloud, from idol shrines, 
 
 That burned and glimmered on the solemn walls. 
 
 And some were there whose spirits sank in fear : 
 Sunk down in dread at such appalling doom. 
 And with relenting heart, they dropt the boon 
 Of frankincense upon the idol shrine. 
 Not that they loved not Him, but life the more. 
 And so they bought it, thus denying Him. 
 
 But some there were whose iron wills abreast 
 The coming storm, felt not its gloom within ; 
 But stood, in that dark hour as strong and calm, 
 As they had been beneath the solemn skies 
 Of the far desert-land whence they had come : 
 Whence they had brought their hves as in their hands 
 An offering free unto love's altar pure, 
 
MELANIUS. 25 
 
 For His sweet sake. In that they rather die, 
 Than living, might not love and worship Him. 
 
 And there was one among these faithful few — 
 An old man bent with years, yet standing tall 
 Above the crowd ; like a grand monarch tree, 
 Whose towering hight makes all its fellows less : 
 And at his side, a maiden young and fair ; 
 Chnging as clings the vine upon the oak : 
 The Hermit he. 
 
 He had fed his flock 
 On pleasant things ; had taught their feet the way 
 As Paulus taught, who now had gone, and passed 
 The woeful gate — the strange, dark gate of Death. 
 And swaying with his hand as he would speak. 
 The old man fronted to the Judge and said : — 
 " Most noble Sirs ! Most noble Orcus, hear ! 
 Be%'e you stands Melanius. He who once 
 
26 MELANIUS. 
 
 Trod these proud streets with glad and careless mien , 
 In the bright summer of his early prime 
 The gayest of the gay. 
 
 Amid the scenes, 
 Where Folly led, or Pleasure beckoned on, 
 His wilhng feet were fleetest ; and where strove 
 In Learning's sacred halls the budding mind, 
 His brow ne'er lacked its palm. In the fair games 
 His crown was often won. And when red War 
 Rung his wild clarion, to the field he went, 
 With baldrick gay, and sprung his glittering lance 
 To its red hilt ! deep in the foe's hot blood. — 
 For her, whose love was nearest next his heart ; — 
 IJis Rome I His best loved Rome 1 
 
 But these are past. There was a light that shone 
 
 From a far city : its radiance fell 
 
 Into his spirit's night. Its blessing came, 
 
MELANIUS. 27 
 
 From One whose home is in the skies ; and here, 
 In this poor scroll, Melanins reads His words : — 
 ' I am the Lord thy God ! Beside me there is none ! 
 
 * I made the sea, and all that is therein. 
 
 * The Heavens and the Earth, and all therein. 
 
 ' The stars I made ; and call them by their names ! 
 
 ' Thou shalt not bow to any God but me, 
 
 ' I am the Lord thy God ! the only, and the true !'" 
 
 Then, as a solemn awe had gathered down 
 And crept its silence over heart and tongue. 
 No voice spake answer unto him : and he 
 Continuing said : '' These little ones bowed here 
 Like storm-swept trees. He gave to me ; and I 
 Have led them as a feeble old man could. 
 With tears and prayers. E'er pointing to the way 
 That leadeth to the brighter, better home. 
 
28 MELAmUS. 
 
 Melanius asks no mercy : he has come, 
 To give his Ufe an offering unto Him 
 Who gave His own for His lost children's sake. 
 The old must die. — It were an easy task 
 To stop the halting throb, and still the pulse 
 Of the old tree when numb in every limb : 
 When feeling oft unto its inner core 
 The damps of dull decay. 
 
 Even were it left 
 'Twould have at best, but few more days to run. 
 But some are here for whom Melanius pleads ; 
 For whom, alas ! his aged heart now bleeds — 
 These innocent ones : this tender summer flower 
 Clinging beside me, my gentle foster child, — 
 The whitest lamb in all the little flock. 
 Most Noble Orcus ! 
 
 For the sake of one 
 Who dying gave her to me, in the land 
 
MELAmUS. 29 
 
 Of thine own Alexandria, wliere slie, 
 
 A priestess in the Memphian temples taught : 
 
 This child beside her at thy holy altars, 
 
 Caressing oft the sacred Ibis bird 
 
 That spread its gorgeous plumage o'er the shrine 
 
 Of thme own Isis : in that her hands 
 
 Have served among the rites thou most appro vest, 
 
 0, spare the child ! and old Melanius 
 
 Asks of thee no more 1" 
 
 He ceased : and through the solemn stillness there 
 Looking afar to where the setting sun 
 Sank low behind the dim Palatian hills. 
 His steady gaze grew fixed, and stern, as he 
 Some vision saw. Then shuddering as a-cold, 
 And blanchmg white, as if a shaft unseen 
 Had struck into his heart, he sank ! — he fell ! 
 Melanius was no more I 
 
80 MELANIU8, 
 
 The God he loved, 
 Loved hhii : and dawning there as in the days 
 Of the old Prophets, lo ! the steeds of fire ! 
 And Israel's chariot ! come to rescue him, 
 And bear him up before the Mighty Throne ! 
 
 '' Jesu, son of Calvary ! 
 Jesa merci ! Pity me !' 
 
 Within the darkness of a prison cell, 
 Where heavy shadows gathered like a pall 
 Around her youthful form : a maiden fair 
 Knelt down in tears to pray. Upon her brow 
 Clung the red martyr's wreath.* On her breast 
 
 * •' A poisonous compound, made to resemble coral, with 
 wMcli it was the custom to adorn the brows of young mar- 
 tyrs on the day of their immolation — so insidious in its 
 effects, that death was often produced long before the hour 
 of execution. 
 
MELAmUS. 31 
 
 Shone the white silver of the Christian cross 
 And in her clasped hands, the holy rood, 
 Oft pressed unto her hps ; where evermore 
 Arose the tearful burden of her soul. 
 
 Beside her, gleaming in the ghastly light 
 Of a pale naptha prison-lamp, looked down 
 The hideous features of the idol dumb : 
 Upon whose shrine, she now was left to cast 
 The saving boon of incense. Disowning thus 
 The sacred vows of her young Christian faith. 
 Alethe, she — the only life of all 
 That had survived the terrors of the day. 
 Who, for the sake of her young beauty's bloom 
 And childlike innocence, by the implacable judge 
 Reprieved a few short hours ; thus lengthening out 
 The sorrows of the doom that waited her. 
 
32 MELANIUS. 
 
 And treading there, with the quick restless step 
 Of one who buffets with a hopeless woe, — 
 Alciphron : — he, whose true and faithful love, 
 Had like an anchor held through all the storm 
 That had swept o'er them, since the far off day 
 When first they met : when from the vestal depths 
 Of the unplummeted wells within his soul, 
 Her budding beauty had drawn up the thoughts 
 That linked his life to hers. 
 
 Then, as the mind 
 Hopes against hope, and knowing it too, to wall 
 The heart against the Colchis of despair, 
 Still grasps the straw, he loosed the wearing tide 
 Of grief and passion unto her, and said : ■ 
 " Alethe, look on me ! If aught thou lovest — 
 In that thou carest not for thy sweet life. 
 Yet pity have for mine ! For I am naught : 
 Or bemg more, would rather like these stones 
 
MELANIUS. 33 
 
 Poise in the balance of insensate things, 
 Than feel my life, and be bereft of thee !" 
 
 " There was a time, when unto me there came 
 
 No thought but death. I asked, why had the gods 
 
 To Nature given more than unto man ! 
 
 The trodden clod beneath his feet, renews 
 
 Its youth and freshness ! The inanimate trees, 
 
 Feel in the gloom of death the latent fire 
 
 That wakes amid the ashes of decay, 
 
 And fans to life and beauty all once lost ; — 
 
 The burning stars, that roll above his head 
 
 Their never-fading fires through centuries vast. 
 
 Are they not more than he ? 
 
 But unto me, 
 Like the faint glimmer of the tardy day, 
 Along thy Christian creed there comes a light 
 Tliat hmts the soul immortal. Yet upon 
 
34 MELANIUS. 
 
 These dim uncertain lines beyond the dust, 
 
 There is a void, at which Philosophy 
 
 And sober Reason clutches — but they fall !" 
 
 Then, melting to a kmder mood, spake on : 
 
 *•' See ! yonder, my beloved ! how the fair Night 
 
 In all her radiant beauty pleads with thee : 
 
 How smiles Diana on the whispering stream ! — 
 
 The tender stars, so like thine own deep eyes, 
 
 Seem hazed with tears. The murmuring winds — 
 
 AH Nature pleads with thee, Alethe mine. 
 
 Thy purpose to forbear I And wouldst thou make 
 
 Thy god a Moloch ? that he doth require 
 
 Babes and innocents for His sacrifice ? 
 
 Nay ! 'Tis a simple thing — a trifling form at most : 
 
 Throw here this little grain within the cup ; 
 
 Or I — with mine own hand — will feed the flame ; 
 
 For know, Alethe mine, all other hope is lost !" 
 
MELANIUS. 85 
 
 Then raised the maiden her fast paling face, 
 And in low tones, that like the parting wave, 
 Grew fainter and more far, she answered him : 
 " Alciphron, my betrothed ! 
 
 Hath not ray love 
 Run out unto thee as the summer streams ? 
 Hath not my soul been as the steady needle that obeys 
 The faithful calling of its magnet star I 
 And thou hast been to me even as the dew 
 That falls upon the fainting desert flower. 
 
 But now the hour comes that we must part. 
 He who hath formed my soul now bids it stand, 
 A faithful witness for His fair truth's sake — 
 And He shall give the strength. Hath He not said, 
 ' Lo I I am with you, even unto the end ! 
 And though ye walk through th' dark valley of Death, 
 My rod and staff, shall they not comfort you V 
 
36 MELANIUS. 
 
 "If on the morrow I am called to pass 
 The quick baptism of the martyr's flame, 
 He will uot leave me ; but transpiercing it 
 With His own glory, win away the pain, 
 And lead me out to the celestial home. 
 
 Even now I feel the armor of His strength 
 Supporting me ; and in my ear there seems 
 The whispermg accents of the better land. 
 The stream looks not so dark : Lo ! now, 
 Like a fair vision dawning from afar, 
 The snowy garments of the shining ones ! 
 And glowing in the midst, a brighter robe : 
 And He who wears it, beckons out to me ! 
 Ah ! Yes I — I know 'tis He ! — the printed hands 
 I know- I come I I come ! 
 
 * Jesu, Son of Calvary ! 
 Jesu merci ! Pity me !' " 
 
MELANIUS, 
 
 37 
 
 So passed the faithful spirit to the goal 
 
 Of the far bright Unseen, whose golden gates 
 
 Are ever open to the pure in heart. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 
 
TRINITY BELLS. 
 
 WEET bells of Trinity ! 
 Pleasantly your song- 
 Floats on the sky 
 
 Its mellow tones along : 
 Comes like the murmur 
 Of a Sabbath h3^mn 
 Softly, above the clamor 
 Of thy city's din : 
 
 Above the turmoil 
 Of the busy street, 
 
 And the quick treading 
 Of hastening feet, 
 
42 TRINITY BELLS. 
 
 Your lulling voice 
 
 Breaks out upon the air, 
 
 Filling the weary heart 
 
 With holy thoughts of prayer. 
 
 Welcome your tones 
 
 In many a dreary place : 
 Where toils the weary hand, 
 
 And bends the paling face ; 
 Oh ! happy singers, ye, 
 
 To young and old — 
 Unto the laborer pale 
 
 And to the man of gold. 
 
 A cheerful minstrel, too, 
 Of stern old Time — 
 
 Keeping his cruel record 
 With such merry chime ; 
 
TRINITY BELLS. 43 
 
 Unchanging still 
 
 Through all the changing years, 
 Your own minstrel heart 
 
 Unknown to woe and tears ! 
 
 There comes no tremor 
 
 From your stony fane, 
 When falls in numbers sIoav 
 
 The funeral strain ; 
 Calm and uufalterhig 
 
 From your brazen tongue 
 Echoes the requiem — 
 
 Or the wedding song. 
 
 In coming years, 
 
 When shall have passed away, 
 The heart and harp 
 
 That wakes in song to-day 
 
44 TRINITY BELLS. 
 
 Your praise ; unchanged shall be 
 
 Your merry chime, 
 Sweet bells of Trinity ! 
 
 tiM^ms, 
 
 -^.a--"-- 
 
THE FANTASIA. 45 
 
 THE FANTASIA. 
 
 ^■fjnM^mEHAHA! Min-wa-wal 
 JvLv J/i^ Ruuning out upon the hours, 
 With a sweet and mellow cadence 
 Like the dropping vernal showers — 
 Like the patter on the leaves, 
 Or the dripping of the eaves. 
 
 Softly as the tears of Isis, 
 
 Gently as the honey dew. 
 Melting low, till all things tender 
 It seems telling me and you. 
 
 In its limpid ebb and flow 
 Hear the water come and go ! 
 
40 THE FANTASIA, 
 
 Now it minds us of the singing, 
 
 Wliere the pleasant summer streams 
 Through the fragrant, flowery copses, 
 Twinkle up their sunny gleams — 
 
 Silver lines along the meadows 
 With changing lights and shadows. 
 
 Now it tells us of the river, 
 
 With a low, sad undertone ; 
 
 And we hush our breath to listen 
 
 To the melancholy moan. — 
 
 Till our spirits catch the shade 
 That the solemn sounds have made. 
 
 Then we hear the rushing fountains 
 
 In the dim and lonely wood ; 
 Hear the sounding waters waking 
 
 All the purple solitude — 
 
THE FANTASIA. 47 
 
 Trembling- echoes leap and start 
 Till they vibrate to the heart I 
 
 Hearken I to the silvery rustle, 
 
 Hear the rippling melody 
 Of the white waves, as they murmur 
 Down beside the summer sea ! 
 
 Hushing in the silence now, 
 Hear the laughing water flow ! 
 
 .^^5#fe^ 
 
48 THE 8PAER0 W G UE8T. 
 
 THE SPARROW GUEST. 
 
 T was the winter solstice : and I sat 
 
 In the low window seat, the cheerless noon 
 Casting its shadows o'er me 'till thej fell 
 Down mid the dust and care within my heart 
 Hungry and cold already ; and I thought 
 'Twere Uttle pity were it colder still 
 So that 'twere numb, and never more 
 Might long for summers that it could not know. 
 When, in the lullings of the storm, there came 
 A gentle tapping low : such as we hear 
 In pleasant spring-time, when the vernal showers 
 Patter their glistening feet against the pane. 
 And lo ! where the grey woodbine clung against the 
 
 wall, 
 
THE SPARROW GUEST, 49 
 
 Two starry eyes looked out amid the snow 
 With a warm eloquence, as they would say : 
 " This is a sorry day ! Hast thou no cheer 
 For a poor pilgrim of the sky like me ?" 
 
 Then with a hand obedient to the call 
 
 Of sorrow, in whatever humble form, 
 
 With slow and cautious touch I poised the bar — 
 
 Trembling lest I might fright the fluttering breast, 
 
 So homeless and forlorn, with thought of harm. 
 
 When, with quick sense acute to breath of flowers, 
 
 Scenting the white caraelia's soft perfume, 
 
 And feeling the warm summer of the room, 
 
 She ventured in : showing sweet confidence, 
 
 As she had never heard (0 sin accursed !) 
 
 Of hunter's aim, or deadly fowler's snare. 
 
 Through the long days of gloom, on daintiest fare 
 She fed, pluming the azure of her slender wing 
 
50 THE SPARROW GUEST. 
 
 Amid acacia blooms, or choosing oft 
 The berried holly on the pictured wall. 
 Bearing me cheerful company at eve, 
 Would sit and sing a low sweet symphony, 
 Telling the stories she had learned afar 
 In the green shadows of her native wood. 
 But on one morn, when the pale sun grew red. 
 Flashing his fervid glances through the air 
 Till all the far off hills and faded downs 
 Wore the deep yellow that foretells the spring, 
 Her glance grew restless, lo(3king oft and long 
 To where the horizon glimmered up like gold, 
 She sought the open bar ; and trimming up 
 With preparation quick her neat attire, 
 Pausing a moment, chirping on the sill, 
 Away she hied I with pinions fleet and strong, 
 Throwing the brightness from her purple wing 
 Back to my longing eyes, as on she sped 
 
THE SPARROW GUEST. 51 
 
 To meet the summer coming o'er the sea. 
 And there are other sparrows, with sad eyes, 
 Looking up timidly amid the storm, 
 Whose sorrows bridged but for a little space ■ 
 By kindly hand, shall send a brightness back 
 Upon thy way, when He shall say, " Well done I 
 For inasmuch as ye have given to these 
 My little ones, so have ye done to me." 
 
 ^m^ 
 
52 wmE. 
 
 WINE. 
 
 ^^ILL the goblet to the brim ! 
 How they sparkle ! 
 How they swim, — 
 Foam-beads, on the surface bright 
 Melting away in rosy light. 
 Flashing diamonds 
 Wink and shine 
 In the fragrant ruby wine. 
 
 Fill the glittering gilded cup 
 
 With the nectar — 
 
 Fill it up. 
 Never mind the poison there. 
 It is sweet, and it is fail*. 
 
WINE. 53 
 
 We will laugh 
 Away old Time, 
 As we drink the purple wine. 
 
 Let the luscious pleasure flow 
 
 Till midnight hours 
 
 Come and go : 
 Till the cheek with fever flushes 
 And the maddened life-tide gushes 
 
 Through the pulses. 
 
 How divine, 
 Is the twinkling crimson wine ! 
 
 Fill again, 0, fill the bowl ! 
 
 My brain seems burning, 
 
 And my soul 
 Is all anguish. See ! see ! 
 Demons laugh, and menace me. 
 
54 WINE. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 O brother mine 
 I am dying, but— give me wine I 
 
 Dig the grave. Still and deep 
 
 Let a fallen 
 
 Brother sleep. 
 'Gentle breezes, softly blow. 
 Fragrant boughs, sway to and fro. 
 
 Sad, sad fate I 
 
 Shall it be thine ? 
 Hark ye ! shun the maddening wine. 
 
NOTRE DAME. 55 
 
 NOTRE DAME. 
 
 HERE^S a pale light on the altar : like a 
 sacred flame it glows ! 
 
 Hark ! a soundless wail is rising : from each lip it 
 flows ! 
 
 And the organ-tones are sobbing high np in the 
 arches dim, 
 
 Till they seem like sighing mournei*s pleading tear- 
 fully to Him. 
 
 From the solemn w^alls above ns, look the sainted 
 
 faces down. 
 One — the fairest and the purest, still it wears the 
 
 thorny crown. 
 
56 NOTRE DAME. 
 
 In tlie gloom, lo ! History's pages, written o'er with 
 
 wrong and blood ; 
 But the reddened annals tell us, how the Christian 
 
 loved his God. 
 
 Here, from Life's quick sweeping tempest, sad and 
 
 weary ones have come, 
 Where in barren desert places, they have trod in 
 
 tears alone ; 
 And their troubled eyes are bearing all their sorrow 
 
 and their sin, 
 To the holy One who listens between the 
 
 cherubim. 
 
 Kow every arm is reaching to touch the garments 
 
 bright, 
 Within the spirit's darkness to woo the saving 
 
 liffht. 
 
NOTRE DAME, 57 
 
 And every mourner hastens down to the Jordan 
 
 shore : 
 As King Naaman, the leper, in the storied days 
 
 of yore. 
 
 While the organ-tones are sobbing, and the mourn- 
 ful bell is rung ; 
 
 And like a blessing o^er us the cense r^s breath is 
 swung : 
 
 While on the snowy altar sways the pale light 
 evermore, 
 
 And every knee is bending on the old cathedral 
 floor. 
 
58 SONG OF THE DESERT JASPER. 
 
 SONG OF THE DESERT JASPER 
 
 fHAYE come ! I have come ! from the 
 sileut land, 
 Where the tombs of Egypt's monarchs stand : 
 And the beautiful rajs of my jewel dyes, 
 Were gathered 'ueath Afric's mournful skies. 
 
 Where sounds the wash of the old Nile's waves. 
 Like a requiem low by the nameless graves, 
 My home hath been ; through Ages gone ; 
 But Time hath not marred the jasper stone. 
 
 A listener was I at his hoary side, 
 
 When Alexandria sat in her queenly pride 
 
SONG OF THE DESERT JASPER. 59 
 
 Beside the sea ! When the feast was spread, 
 And the song gushed free from hps now dead ! 
 
 Together we heard the trump of War, 
 And the clash of th' Roman scimetar I 
 When the stately tread of a Caesar fell 
 To the world's heart like a solemn knell. 
 
 We heard the tramp of the knightly band, 
 As they sped their way to the Holy Land : 
 When the Saracen shout and Turk's war cry 
 Rung its " Alia ackbar I" along the sky : 
 
 When England's blood fell down like rain, 
 On the shining sands of Ramula's plain I 
 And many a princely form was laid 
 'Neath the lone Lebanon cedar's shade. 
 
60 SOKG OF THE DESERT JASPER. 
 
 Lords of fair castles over the sea, 
 
 Had none to mark tlieir grave but me ; 
 
 As they slept in their banner-shroud, with none 
 
 To raise the tablet or monument stone. 
 
 O, the song I sing all Nature fills ! 
 *Tis the song of the rocks. The song of the hills- 
 The mountain's grandeur, the ocean's roar, 
 Echo its burden o'er and o'er. 
 
 'Tis the fading greatness of man ] whose power 
 And brightest honors fade with the hour — 
 Whose mio^htiest records crumble to dust ! 
 
 Where the line is stilled 'neath the finger of rust. 
 
 ^■^^^*'" 
 
CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 61 
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 
 
 ^ROM the broad fire the red light leaps, 
 And gladdens all the whitened wall ; 
 And round the grateful hearth to-night 
 Gay voices rise and fall : 
 
 In merry tones of mirth and song, 
 Swiftly the hours glide along. 
 
 In fragrant tufts the fresh green ferns 
 Are clustered in quiet nooks apart : 
 Over the grey old battle-scenes, 
 And sorrowful stories of the heart. 
 
 Making their dimness bright with bloom, 
 Lading the air with soft perfume. 
 
63 CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 
 
 I close mine eyes and think of one, 
 
 Wiiose vacant chair is near me now ; 
 Wlio used to sit on Christmas night, 
 With folded hand, and saintly brow : 
 Telling the story of the star 
 That burned in Judah's skies afar I 
 
 To the great Unseen she hath gone forth, 
 
 With spotless robes, and faith serene, 
 And ! her blissful presence gone. 
 Life is not what it once hath been : 
 With solemn step I tread alone, 
 Its weary days out, one by one. 
 
 Then blame me not, if round the hearth 
 
 One love is lingering in the Past — 
 If tears that all unbidden flow. 
 
 Should o'er thy mirth one shadow cast : 
 As faded leaves, in early spring. 
 Death's shadow to the l^irth-time bring. 
 
LIFE, 63 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 THOU fleeting, palpitating thing ! 
 What is it that we call when we say Life ? — 
 Fretted and goaded through all ages gone, 
 Yet still around us with sorrows ever rife. 
 
 Things that we count but as the dust, and naught ; 
 
 Still tremulous and full of all thy strength : 
 Suffering and sobbing through their little day, 
 
 'Till fallen and crushed, beneath the heel at length. 
 
 Things that we see not, throbbing with thy soul, 
 Though ephemeral and passing as a dream : 
 
 Linking their atoms to the pregnant whole 
 
 Of His great thought — Creation's mighty scheme I 
 
64 LIFE. 
 
 Thou art the spirit that the mind may own, 
 
 The fair antithesis to dark decay : 
 And in thy existence by all laws we feel, 
 
 Commensurate with the Eternal's endless day. 
 
 From the low dip of Being's glowing plane, 
 
 Where trails the animalculae along ; 
 Unto the topmost bar : from off whose giddy hight 
 
 Echoes forever the bright archangel's song, — 
 
 Thy pulses thrill. Thy beatings curse or bless, 
 Through every quick gradation, still the same : 
 
 Waking the helpless soul to the keen stings of woe. 
 Or kmdling up joy's wild ecstatic flame. 
 
 Thou art not God, and yet art part of Him : 
 
 Not man, and yet bereft of thee — 
 How rived the chain ! How broken beauty's charm. 
 
 What plague-spots on fair Being's hand we see ! 
 
LIFE. 65 
 
 0, we have stood beside the silent tongue, 
 
 That, warmed by thee, had moved the world's 
 great heart ; 
 
 Gazed on the pulseless eye, whose burning glance 
 Once seemed of thy quick soul a hving part. 
 
 Till all our spirit trembled with the thought 
 
 Of that great mystery, that doth its links emband 
 
 Round every soul ; that every heart may feel. 
 But none but its Creator understand ! 
 
66 OHAPELLE DV GAL V AIRE. 
 
 CHAPELLE DU CALVAIRE. 
 
 HERE'S a holy hush round the chancel, 
 where Music's soul hath been : 
 Sobbing in low, wild pleadings, for the bale of 
 
 mortal sin. 
 And a slender ray from the arches drifts away 
 
 in lines of gold 
 Through this lonely place, — where the anguish and 
 sins of the heart are told. 
 
 A fitful whispering murmur, like the sound of 
 
 distant waves, 
 Or the echo of Life's quick voices, in the solemn 
 
 place of graves, 
 
CHAPELLE DU GALVAIRE. 67 
 
 From without comes trembling o'er us, along the 
 bannered wall ; 
 
 Where the pictured saints are looking compassion- 
 ately on all. 
 
 Far, from tne ancient altar, where but earthly feet 
 
 have trod. 
 Floats out the word of power, for the oracles 
 
 of God ; 
 And where the stole and girdle, ghmmer between 
 
 the gloom, 
 Like a hollow wave's repeating, pours forth the 
 
 penance doom ! 
 
 Hot tears on the cheek of beauty, and the white of 
 many a hand 
 
 Gleam through the minster twilight, as the sorrow- 
 ful mourners stand 
 
68 GEAPELLE DU GALVAIRE. 
 
 Bent, and bowing like willows, to the blast of the 
 
 tempest's breath ; 
 While the hurtling pangs in each bosom, seem akin 
 
 to the pangs of death. 
 
 Alone, in the troubled silence, treading the cold, 
 
 dark aisle, 
 I ask if the far bright Heaven hears the yearning 
 
 wail the while, — 
 And if He wliose glorious presence thrills the great 
 
 universe^ 
 Can joy at the quivering spirit, the blight, the 
 
 canker, and curse. 
 
 When, lo ! as the glory of morning floods into the 
 
 mournful night. 
 There flows a radiant vision ! blessing the tearful 
 
 sight ; 
 
CEAPELLE DU CALVAIRE. 69 
 
 And a form that is fairer than angel, cleaves the 
 
 melodious skies ! — 
 And a voice ! ''I will have mercy ! — mercy ! 
 
 not sacrifice !" 
 
70 STARS AND STRIPES, 
 
 STARS AND STRIPES 
 
 ^^. E AUTIFUL flag I beautiful flag ! 
 
 Floating from yonder spar ; 
 There is no banner so dear to me 
 
 As the one with the stripe and star ! 
 Never a banner more dearly won : 
 
 Wide were the fields of gore, 
 And fierce and sharp the struggle, that gained 
 
 That flag in the days of yore. 
 
 I have heard the hale old mariner tell, — 
 
 Worn and covered with scars : 
 How it gladdened his eyes when he saw it float 
 
 Above him among the spars. 
 
STARS AND STRIPES. 71 
 
 And amid the swelling* tempests surge, 
 
 And the hissing, lashing foam : 
 No storm could affright, no danger pall, 
 
 As he thought of the flag, and home. 
 
 T have seen the weary traveler's lip 
 
 Tm-n pale, as he told of the past, — 
 Of the fetter and bar that rankled sore. 
 
 In a far off prison cast ; 
 Of the earnest, hopeful prayer, that rose 
 
 As he drew the first free breath, 
 For the spotless fame of his country's flag 
 
 That saved her son from death ! 
 
72 CROWNS. 
 
 CROWNS. 
 
 THE Monarch's crown is bright I 
 Sparkling with gems and gold ! 
 Of all the chaplets man can wear 
 'Tis the fairest to behold : 
 
 But it fetters the soul, and wears the brain. 
 And stings the spirit, with care and pain. 
 
 And the Warrior's wreath is green : 
 
 It seems a glorious prize ; 
 But it grows where the smoking life-tide runs 
 Beneath dark battle-skies : 
 
 The glory that on it so fair appears, 
 Are drops of blood 1 and widows' tears ! 
 
The Statesman's brow is crowned — 
 
 Twined with the ivy and ]}ay ; 
 He hath gathered the leaves in barren paths, 
 That have fretted his, heart away : 
 
 And he holds their light at too dear a cost, 
 With youth, and peace, and honor lost ! 
 
 Who hath woven the cypress wreath 
 
 For the Jove4ike brow of the Sage ? 
 The hand of Science ! In Learning's halls. 
 As he bent o'er the mystic page ; 
 
 But the death-tree gift, that his soul hath won 
 Has doomed him to tread the world alone ! 
 
 Over the Poet's faded face, 
 
 A slender chaplet gleams ; 
 He found the blooms l^y the river of Thought, 
 
 Away in the land of Dreams ; 
 
74 CR0WK8. - 
 
 With the feverish day and sleepless night, 
 He hath bought the perishing garland bright. 
 
 Then 0, give to me the fadeless crown ' 
 
 Whose glory is not of mortal birth — 
 Whose beautiful blossoms unfold, afar 
 From the fitful scenes of earth : 
 
 It is braided by angel hands for all, 
 
 Who escape the bondage of Sin's dark thrall. 
 
 
ABOU GOOSB. 75 
 
 ABOU GOOSH. 
 
 ID the white towers of Bethoor- 
 Old Bethoron, by the Nile ; 
 Rises high a grey mosque dome. 
 
 Its loud voice o'er many a mile 
 Reaching on the desert way, 
 Tells the pilgrim when to pray. 
 
 At the barbican's strong base 
 Sits grim Abou, stout and bold. 
 
 On his face dark deeds are writ 
 Human lip hath never told. 
 
76 ABOU GOOSE. 
 
 Far, be watches o'er the sand, 
 Girted by his robber band. 
 
 Bright his yataghan, his broad shield 
 Dashed by many a deadly blow : 
 
 Death-strokes of pale failmg hands 
 Lpng dead : where to and fro. 
 
 The green branches of the palms 
 
 Tremble in the summer calms. 
 
 Ruby, hidden in its cave ; 
 
 Blossom, budding in the gloom — 
 Fair-Star, in the turret dome, 
 
 Treads her sandal-scented room — 
 Abou's young Circassian queen, 
 In her robes of gold and green. 
 
 Attar-sweets are in her hair : 
 
 On her bosom's blushing snow 
 
ABOU QOOSH. 
 
 77 
 
 Pearly lights, red opal-fires, 
 
 With soft breathings come and go : 
 She, toying there with lute and gem. 
 Counts Abou the best of men I 
 
78 FLAa OF ENGLAND. 
 
 FLAG OF ENGLAND. 
 
 AIL to thee ! Red cross banner I 
 On yonder mast afar : 
 On Freedom's scroll no light e'er shone 
 
 Brighter than thy one star ! 
 Nor truer hearts nor braver hands 
 
 Hath the world ever known ; 
 Nor fairer land than that wliich claims 
 Thy glory all her own. 
 
 Undimmed thy prowess and thy fame, 
 
 On every land and sea : 
 0, I love the flag that first was called 
 
 The banner of the free. 
 
FLAG OF ENGLAND. 79 
 
 Before whose ligM, in ages gone, 
 
 Dark Ignorance fled aghast ; 
 And one by one Wrong's shackles fell, 
 
 Till Liberty struck the last I 
 
 And over the world's crushed heart was shed, 
 
 The Charta's golden shower ; 
 When Truth, and Right, no longer fell 
 
 '^eath the iron heel of Power ! 
 And ever and ever whereon the sky 
 
 Floats out that crimson sheen, 
 Above the gloom, the beacon torch 
 
 Of the Gospel light is seen, 
 
 God bless that flag I and may it wave 
 
 Fair as it floats to-day ; 
 When the heart and harp that wakes this song 
 
 Forgotten have passed away. 
 
80 FLAG OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Long as a nation's name is heard ; 
 
 Till nations and tongues expire, 
 May it float, not a ray nor an honor lost, 
 
 Fan' flag of my ancient sire I 
 
TEE IMMOLA TIOK 81 
 
 THE IMMOLATION. 
 
 ^HT y^ff' IGH tlie fuueral pile is raised, 
 Mk. JJ^ Builded of the sandal tree. 
 Sweetly chime the silvery waves 
 Here beside the summer sea. 
 
 All the airs are filled with sweets, 
 Gathered from the jungles near : 
 
 Why on every lip a sigh ? 
 Why in every eye a tear ? 
 
 Lo ! upon the flower-strewn way, 
 Cometh bare and tender feet ; 
 
 Wandering to the shining shore, 
 Once again, their lov^e to meet. 
 
82 TEE IMMOLATION-. 
 
 Pale the suowy champac beams 
 On her clustered tresses' night ; 
 
 And her bridal veil once more, 
 Trembles on her bosom's white. 
 
 Hark ! how softly peal the bells I 
 Now the lapping flames ascend ! 
 
 Now unto the Vishnu* god, 
 
 E^ery trembling knee doth bend. 
 
 O'er the sunset floats the cloud 
 Of the sandal fun'ral pyre ; 
 
 Now the weeping bride hath found 
 Him who was her soul's desire. 
 
 * Hindoo Deity. 
 
CHRIST 8 GAEDEK 83 
 
 CHRIST'S GARDEN. 
 
 KNOW an humble place, where deep and low 
 The solemn voice of prayer doth ebb and flow: 
 And sacred hymns go sounding through the aisle, 
 From lisping lips, unknown to sin or guile. 
 There, youthful faces look up to the light 
 Like flowers in the sunshine, meek, and white ; 
 And on young hearts with yearnings pure and true, 
 His free grace falls, like pleasant honey-dew : 
 And, as we linger in this sacred place, 
 Reading sweet innocence in every face ; 
 We feel, God, some holy spots there be. 
 On sinful earth, inviolate yet to Thee : 
 Some pleasant ways, where angel steps still tread, 
 And hallowed blessings hover o'er each head. 
 
84 CHRIST S GABDEK 
 
 No circled glories tint the lowly pane, 
 Save tlie reel sunlight, and the silvery rain ; 
 No pictured grandeurs cluster on the walls, 
 Nor organ-tone within the stillness falls. 
 Naught but the visions of the soul arise 
 Waked by pure thoughts, that pointing to the skies, 
 Show where the Shepherd, in sweet pastures green, 
 Feeds the loved flock beside the living stream. 
 On w^hose fair banks, with flowery crook He stands, 
 With patient looks, and white imprinted hands ; 
 Forever mindful of the gardens sweet. 
 That lift their humble blossoms at His feet. 
 
SONG OF THE FORGEMEK 85 
 
 SONG OF THE FORGEMEN. 
 
 ! ho 1 merrily ho I 
 Jolly fellows are we, 
 The rich man owns the valley forge, 
 And we his slaves must be ! 
 
 Stir the embers till they blaze, 
 And make the cauldron boil. — 
 
 Eight long hours we've labor'd hard, 
 Yet two more must we toil I 
 
 Ho ! ho I dash the ore 
 
 In many a seething stream ; 
 
 Turn your eyes to the darkness quick, 
 From the glimmering, blinding gleam. 
 
86 SONG OF TEE FORGEMEN. 
 
 Ply your sledges swiftly, boys 1 
 
 And make the anvil ring ; 
 Fashion the sinews tous^h and strong. 
 
 While the song of toil we sing. 
 
 Weld the iron fingers sharp, 
 For the rich man's ship at sea — 
 
 He lies asleep on his crimson couch, 
 Wliile we strike, one, two, three I 
 
 Free gift of the soil ! the yellow grain 
 Waves in the pleasant fields, 
 
 But golden harvest, or vintage full, 
 No gift to the poor man yields. 
 
 The fragrant sheaves to the garner borne. 
 The corn and the purple wine ; — 
 
 A scanty crust, and a squalid home. 
 And labor for thee and thine. 
 
SONG OF TEE FORGEMEK 87 
 
 " The earth is the Lord's, the fulhiess thereof" — 
 'Tis our brother hath made us slaves — 
 
 With fetters of gold he binds us fast 
 From the cradle down to our graves ! 
 
 Ho ! ho ! merrily ho ! 
 
 Jolly fellows are we ; 
 The rich man owns the valley forge, 
 
 And we his slaves must be ! 
 
 rv^Nj(S^XVyvi/Fa_)X/'\y% 
 
88 THE BEREAVED. 
 
 THE BEREAVED. 
 
 =^OLD the pale garments together- 
 Away from my tearful sight ! 
 Open ye wide the window, 
 Let in the morning light. 
 I would look on the bright'ning heavens, 
 
 Feel again the life-fraught air, 
 For my spirit is faihng — is sinking 
 Into its old despair. 
 
 Far out, to the stream I went with her 
 That sweeps by Eternity's shore — 
 
 0, the shadows ! I feel them hovering 
 Over my hetirt evermore.. 
 
THE BEREAVED. 89 
 
 Earth's sunlight may never dispel them, 
 Though the glance may be lit with a smile, 
 
 The terrible flow of Death's river 
 
 Casts its gloom o'er the spirit the while. 
 
 I see her again sit beside me 
 
 In the calm of the autumn days ; 
 I hear the rapturous music, 
 
 Of her tremulous, plaintive lays : 
 The white of her hand is before me, 
 
 The hopeful and saintly face, — 
 Slow gathering over its beauty. 
 
 Death's shadow again I trace ! 
 
 On its brightness dust now is gathered, 
 
 And surely the graves decay, 
 Enfoldeth the little white mantle 
 
 In the lone valley far away. 
 
90 THE BEREA VED. 
 
 The path is grey mid the brambles 
 I have trodden in tears, and alone. 
 
 Father in Heaven ! now shelter 
 The liroken and sorrowins; one. 
 
TEE BELFRY. 91 
 
 THE BELFRY 
 
 ^gj^ HERE'S a belfry, dim and olden ; 
 
 Jiiiv, It was fashioned long ago : 
 And the great bell in the tnrret 
 
 Swingeth ever, to and fro. 
 It was builde-d by a master — 
 
 Greatest of all builders he. 
 And for beauty, and for grandeur 
 
 None may match his masonry. 
 
 This belfry we are singing. 
 
 That hath stood through ages gone, 
 With its walls so grand and massive, 
 
 Is not made of wood or stone. 
 
92 THE BELFRY. 
 
 And the great bell in the turret, 
 That is sounding evermore, 
 
 Is not made of brass, or iron, 
 Or of any precious ore. 
 
 Yet its fastnesses ne'er waver ; 
 
 And its 'butments, they are strong, 
 And the Ringer never falters 
 
 In the chiming of his song. 
 Since when o'er the plains of Edeu, 
 
 Waved the Angel's sword of flame," 
 This wondrous tower and Ringer 
 
 Hath held a mighty name. 
 
 The lofty and the lowly 
 Hear the music of the bell : 
 
 Ringing up and down its changes, 
 From the glee-song, to the knell. 
 
THE BELFRY. 93 
 
 When Chaldea's mighty horsemen 
 
 Sunk Israel down in blood, 
 Then Israel heard the warning, 
 
 And called upon her God. 
 
 And the royal strains that echoed 
 
 In the great Augustine times, 
 Were the lofty, deep vibrations 
 
 Of the Ringer's sounding chunes. 
 And the tones that in the belfry 
 
 Swung like martial pealings down, 
 Gave to glorious Rome her CsBsar ! 
 
 And to Caesar gave the crown. 
 
 To the old Teutonic Fathers, 
 Saxon, Dane, and Gaul, hath he. 
 
 The old Ringer, rung his ditties, 
 And his boldest minstrelsy. 
 
94: TEE BELFRY, 
 
 Never hath the tower crumbled ! 
 
 Ne-ver has the true old tougue 
 Trembled, with its heavy burden, 
 
 Since the first day that it rung. 
 
 Ti'ue, sometimes strange phantoms gather 
 
 In the arches dim and high, 
 And the rooks then* black wings flutter. 
 
 Dimming oft the old man's eye. 
 Yet he heedeth not these visions, 
 
 But keeps sending his deep chmies, 
 Like a holy benediction. 
 
 Through all ages, in all climes. 
 
 Would ye know the grey old tower ? 
 
 And the stern Bell Rmger's name ? — 
 Grave old Thought ! we call the Ringer, 
 
 In the belfry of the Brain ! 
 
THE BELFRY. 95 
 
 And the great bell in the turret, 
 
 Not made of ore of any kind, 
 With its ceaseless, strong vibrations. 
 
 We call the Human Mind. 
 
 n. 
 
96 HEART SENSES. 
 
 HEART SENSES. 
 
 (V^ 
 
 ^HEY are all gone now, mother. 
 
 One by one they have left the door ; 
 And here, in the silence deep, mine eyes 
 
 Keep watching the shadow on the floor. 
 Slowly it creeps out unto me : 
 
 Wanders and wavers to and fro ; 
 And as I gaze, I hear the sound 
 Of a river's sorrowful flow. 
 
 What can the shadow be, mother ? 
 
 The light in the dear old hall 
 Comes glinting down, in golden tufts. 
 
 On the pictures along the wall. 
 
HEART SEJS^SES. 97 
 
 And garlands bloom in" vases vrliite, 
 
 Fair as in days of yore ; 
 Yet ever, and ever, to my sigbt 
 
 Moves the shadow along the floor. 
 
 Three spring times have come, mother. 
 
 Since I looked upon its gloom : 
 It seems like a dream, afar away. 
 
 Yet I mind the darkened room ; 
 And a face that used to smile on me, 
 
 Looked still, and calm, and white : 
 Then a silence fell low in my heart, 
 
 And a sorrow as dark as night, 
 
 Down in the soul's abyss, mother, 
 
 Its shade is heavy and wide ; 
 Though sometimes a fleeting ray flits past, 
 
 Like the sunlight over tlie tide. 
 
98 HEART SENSES. 
 
 But that was the last of the summer days — 
 
 lu the sph'It's whiter alone, 
 In dreams, I have trod, and my heart may now 
 
 Claim kindred or kith with none. 
 
 Bnt Hope sings a pleasant psalm, mother, 
 
 That when at the open door 
 Of thy mansion afar I come, there will be 
 
 No pall-shadow on the floor. 
 And the light of thy love-fraught eyes, mother, 
 
 On the soul's dark places shed, 
 Shall forever dispel the gloom that came 
 
 When they told me, thou wert dead ! 
 
OCTOBER. 99 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 ^^ll^ HE rose hath blushed beside the stream, 
 jj^ The wild bu^l sang her summer soug : 
 
 The sweet south-west, with fragrant breath, 
 Hath played the flowering boughs among. 
 
 And sights have dawned, and sounds have flown, 
 
 That but to summer hours are known. 
 
 Young Love hath poured his mournful tale 
 
 In many a gay, unlistening ear ; 
 While Pleasure's lip the bowl hath pressed, 
 
 Pale Folly's eye sent down the tear ; 
 And many a grief hath dimm'd the hours, 
 Since Summer waked her early flowers. 
 
109 OCTOBER. 
 
 All these are fled : and sadly now, 
 
 Sweeps the rude winds along the plain ; 
 
 The solemn voices of the wood 
 Bespeak the Autumn come again. 
 
 Fair beauty's spell hath fled away — 
 
 Naught I meet but dull decay. 
 
 I think of one, whose heart mine own 
 Linked all its woes and joys with mine, 
 
 Whose starry eyes e'er yearned to greet 
 The summer's glow and soft sunshine — 
 
 Ere the first blossoms felt their bloom, 
 
 Those eyes were hid beneath the tomb ! 
 
 Bat build the yule-fire wide and high. 
 And smile the winter hours away ; 
 
 Time's dial shows l)ut httle space — 
 
 Laugh while you can, laugh while you may. 
 
 And thou and I, though far apart. 
 
 Will strive to keep a merry heart. 
 
VIOLETS OF THE BATTLEFIELD. 101 
 
 VIOLETS ON THE BATTLEFIELD. 
 
 f^ ALE children of the Spring ! In this fair 
 nook, 
 Bj all youi' pleasant company forsook, 
 I find ye stricken, so disconsolate ! 
 Mine eye e'en drops a tear at your poor fate. 
 A type ye seem of virtue sore distressed. 
 So marred and broken, in seeming woe oppressed. 
 
 What sights have dawned beneath these sunny skies, 
 To touch your hearts, and bow your timid eyes 
 Low in the dust ! as ye were never l^orn 
 With smiles and cheerful looks the hills t' adorn. 
 Come, tell, sweet flowers ; for vv'e are one apart 
 'From the fleet crowd ; and bear a tender heart, 
 
102 VIOLETS OX THE BATTLEFIELD. 
 
 That doth commiserate with the ills of all 
 Swung on the balance beam : or great, or small ; 
 Hast — ah I 'yes, speak on I pray, 
 And sympathy awaits on all ye say. 
 
 " 'Twas on a lovely morn, when i soft calm 
 O'erhung the tender skies ; and like a balm 
 Descending, over all these ample hills 
 Settled the holy spell that quiet brings. The rills 
 Sang, in low cadences, their melodies ; 
 The birds awoke their love-calls in the trees, 
 And on the plain the merry plough-boy sped 
 His glittering share : the fair milk-maid 
 Tripped gaily through the dew, with flowing pail, 
 And from the neighboring farm the nimble flail 
 Its slumb'rous ditty sent through all the vale. 
 When, lo ! where yonder wood, so dark and high. 
 Looms like a temple 'gainst the northern sky, 
 
VIOLETS ON^ THE BATTLEFIELD. 103 
 
 A tumult 'rose — a deaf uing clangor rung 
 Through all the airs. Like a strange knell it swung 
 Deep-toned above us. Trumpet-note and drum 
 Sent out their war-cry, as the host rushed on 
 With tramping steed, and flying, crushing wheel, 
 Bearing their death-locks, and bright swords of steel I 
 
 Then flew the plough-boy for his rusty gun — 
 The flail was hushed, though yet its task undone ; 
 And every home sent out its heart to meet 
 The savage coming of the foeman's feet. 
 
 Upon this field they met. Why did we live to see 
 Such cruel slaughter, such wild butchery ! 
 Fast sprung the seething shot — the hissing shell 
 Burst its foul missiles where in scores they fell. 
 And the dread cannon flying o'er the plain, 
 Sunk down its thousands, ne'er to rise agahi — 
 Sunk down like Abel by the hand of Cain ! 
 
104 VIOLETS ON THE BATTLEFIELD. 
 
 Here ran the life tide ! — The gasping groan 
 Arose and fell till all the night did moan ; 
 And fainting forms groped o'er the sated ground, 
 Seekino; for succor, but no succor found. 
 
 Chokmg voices muinnured "mother !" "home!" 
 And some said " it was hard to die alone !" 
 While younger ones, that did nor moan, nor weep, 
 But whispering, " now I lay me down to sleep," 
 Sank uncomplaining to tlieir silent rest. 
 Like iimocent babes, upon a mother^s breast — 
 By mother^s hand in gentle love caressed. 
 
 Then came the mom. In furrows deep and wide. 
 The silent foemen huddled side by side 
 By hastening hands ; tears sudden and big did start, 
 " Like drops that melt from wiuter^s frozen heart ;" 
 
VIOLETS ON THE BATTLEFIELD. 105 
 
 And many a lip that blanched not in the fray, 
 Turned deadly pale on that sad, funeral day. 
 And since that time, nor wing nor song of bird, 
 Hath o'er these desolate fields been seen or heard ; 
 Nor low of kine, nor plough-boy's rustic lay, 
 Nor voice of childhood, at the close of day 
 By yonder homes, where " Ruin sits alone, 
 Beside the fallen altar, and broken stone !" 
 
 My story told — Mmstrel, dost wonder now 
 That blooms like ours droop down with dusty brow ? 
 Hiding our faces from the sights that tell 
 Man but a demon, and the earth a hell ! 
 
 cJ^^^' 
 
106 aEMS AND GENIUS. 
 
 GEMS AND GENIUS. 
 
 '¥>;J^Wfy HY seek to bring these meaner lights 
 
 WA uk to adorn 
 Thy manly face, thy noble, comely form ? 
 When every word seems like a jewel hung 
 On mellow chimes, dropt from thy pleasant tongue. 
 Not all the gems beneath fair India's skies 
 Could match the brightness of those lustrous eyes — 
 Nay, they would pale, though purest in then* ray, 
 As fade the stars, before the god of day. 
 No need hath thou, in other lights to shine, 
 Than He hath ht within thy sph'it's shrine ; 
 Whose glowing lustre, beaming from thy soul. 
 Wins all our hearts, and, winning, doth control. 
 
GEMS AND GENIUS. 107 
 
 Let the poor wight, well warned of lack of brains, 
 To aid his gravitation, put on chains : 
 And with the gems of mother earth supplied, 
 Make fair compromise, by lighting up outside. 
 But 0, not thou, whose lofty mind serene, 
 Shows what thou art, and what thy sire hath been, — 
 Nature's ennobled, where honor stands abreast ! 
 Or bright thy way, or by dark scenes opprest. 
 No other radiance thy bosom may require 
 Than that which springs from Genius' holy fire ; 
 Than that which Science's kindly hand hath shed 
 Like a pure blessing, on thy youthful head : 
 Than that which hovers in thy merry heart, 
 Gushing to all, as streams their life impart. 
 And marks thee one — the fairest and the best, — 
 E'en as the stars shine out, some brighter than the 
 
108 THE RIVER. 
 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 ^W^ HERE is a narrow valley, 
 
 jj^ Where humid waters roll. 
 O'er the al^ysmal chasm, 
 
 Hastens many a soul. 
 Spectres strange and fearful 
 
 On the dark waves glide — 
 Death stands at the Ferry, 
 
 Christ the other side. 
 
 No pleasant sky illumines 
 
 The blackness of the night ; 
 And they who venture over 
 
 In the darkness lose their sight. 
 
THE RIVER. 109 
 
 No flowers ever blossom 
 
 Near the cheerless, rushing tide, 
 
 Where Death stands at the Ferry, 
 And Christ the other side. 
 
 In that gloonay vale of silence, 
 
 The timid, and the strong. 
 Tremble, as they listen 
 
 To the stream that sweeps along : 
 Only Christian never feareth 
 
 What terrors there abide ; — 
 Where Death stands at the Ferry, 
 
 And Christ the other side. 
 
 Within his heart an amulet I 
 
 The price of holy blood — 
 The fire of living faith and love 
 
 Coming down fiom God. 
 
110 TEE RIVER. 
 
 Invincible, unfailing trust I 
 No dangers can betide, 
 
 Though Death stands at the Ferry, 
 Christ waits the other side ! 
 
TO A MINSTREL. Ill 
 
 TO A MINSTREL. 
 
 *^ 1\TS^^ VER of thee I" Euterpe sits beside 
 
 JSS^ thee ; 
 
 The gentle goddess loveth well I know. 
 Methinks I see her glances beaming o'er thee, 
 
 Watching thy fair hands twinkle to and fro. 
 
 And other eyes, that speak the souFs full story, 
 Linger upon thee ever, sad to part ; 
 
 Unto thy lyre's song, and soft vibration. 
 Responsive oft they feel the tear-drop start. 
 
 " Ever of thee !" It is a tender whisper, 
 That every heart must soon or late repeat. 
 
112 TO A MIXSTEEL. 
 
 rregnaiit with joy, or mantling up with sorrow, 
 The lip may quaff the cup, bitter or sweet. 
 
 Philosophy, bay-crowned, and Reason wears the 
 laurel — 
 
 Well prized their lore, by every thoughtful brain ; 
 But Love, the rogue, with both had such a quarrel, 
 
 Alas ! I fear they'll ne'er be friends again. 
 
 " Ever of thee !" Pale Dian, on lone Latmos, 
 Breathed out its woe in many a tearful sigh ; 
 
 And tender Pleiad took up the incantation, 
 Leaving her broken harp upon the sky. 
 
 And we have read of many a later story, 
 
 Of fountains true, that welled within the soul, 
 
 Pouring their sweetness on lone desert places. 
 Till Being's cup was but a broken bowl. 
 
TO A MINSTREL. 
 
 113 
 
 " Ever of thee !" Through all the sad mutations, 
 That lift their cycles in the future time : 
 
 In all things sweet, and truthful, fond and tender, 
 Shall murmur up that gentle song of thine. 
 
114 EOAtE. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 ^f^^IRE, that hath burned for me, 
 ji]^ While my feet went weary ways ; 
 O, how grateful to mine eyes, 
 
 Beams thy sportive, cheerful blaze. 
 
 Heart, that waited long for me. 
 
 While mine own was bowed and sad ; 
 
 Thy sweet love, so deep and true, 
 Now dost make my spirit glad. 
 
 Li}), that yearned its tale to tell. 
 While I heard the word of soorn : 
 
 That because it loveth well. 
 It hath been so lone and lorn. 
 
HOME. 115 
 
 Gentle eyes, that in their tears, 
 Through the shadows looked afar 
 
 Now I see the hght that seems 
 To my soul, its guiding star. 
 
 God ! who spares and chastens all, 
 Any cup I'll drink for Thee ; 
 
 But stop this fleeting breath, 
 Ere there lives no love for me. 
 
 m. 
 
116 PASTORAL. 
 
 PASTORAL. 
 
 OW softly now the river flows, 
 How sweetly too the meadow-rose 
 Bedecks its margin green : 
 And golden lilies lift their heads, 
 Along the fields in gorgeous beds, 
 The slender grass between. 
 
 The yomig birds in the fragrant trees 
 Wake music, and the summer breeze 
 
 Sweeps softly down the sky ; 
 Upon the hills, the patient sheep 
 O'ercome by noontide slumbers deep, 
 
 In peace together lie. 
 
PASTORAL. 117 
 
 The drowsy kine beneath the shade 
 The mantling willow-boughs have made, 
 
 In lazy rest repose. 
 And on the woodland skirts away 
 The deer looks out upon the day, 
 
 Nor fear of danger knows. 
 
 Upon the plain the ripe corn bright 
 Lifts up its banners to the light, 
 
 A gladsome sight to all : 
 Far glowing o'er the dim dark mold, 
 In brilliant flecks of brown and gold, 
 
 The wheat tops rise and fall. 
 
 A mellow radiance fills the air — 
 A spell of beauty everywhere. 
 
 Seems hovering fi*om above ; 
 And, as I gaze with prayerful eyes, 
 I trace upon these glowing skies 
 
 The story of His love. 
 
118 RURAL SOUNDS. 
 
 RURAL SOUNDS. 
 
 LOW down the mountain-side creepini 
 Comes the grey shadows of even ; 
 And, lil:e briglit golden lamps glowing, 
 Gleam the stars in the blue Heaven. 
 
 High in the dark pines the south wind 
 Maketh a low, pleasant symphony ; 
 
 Down in the willow the night bird 
 Warbles a soft lulling melody. 
 
 Away in the valley the yellow corn 
 Rustles its beautiful silken dress ; 
 
 And, in the moon-light, the wheat tops 
 Ghmmer then* silvery loveliness. 
 
RURAL SOUNDS. 119 
 
 Up from the meadow comes evermore 
 Floating like incense, the clover-scents ; 
 
 And little chip munk sits nibbling 
 
 The green hazel here on the garden-fence. 
 
 Whirr-cher-a-bung ! from the mill-pond 
 Echoes out on the deep solitude — 
 
 Rat-te-tat-tat ! beats the pheasant hen, 
 Her reveille on an old log of wood. 
 
 Ting-a-Kng I tinkles the little bell, 
 
 On the old ewe in the pasture ground ; 
 
 Buz-a-buz 1 twinkle a thousand wings, 
 Our blessed head and ears around. 
 
 Slow down the mountain-side creeping 
 Comes the grey shadows of even ; 
 
 And like bright golden lamps glowing, 
 Gleam the stars m the blue heaven. 
 
120 TEE VOYAGERS. 
 
 THE VOYAGERS. 
 
 APPY singers in the tree ! 
 Care ye nothing more for me ? 
 " Trill-la-la ! trill-la-le !" 
 
 Singing in the branches so, 
 
 While I'm weeping far below — 
 
 We have been true friends, you know. 
 
 Now the bird within ray breast. 
 That would claim ye as its guest. 
 Beats and burns with deep unrest. 
 
 And I watch with tearful sight, 
 Pluming there for sudden flight, 
 The wings that leave me 'lone to-night. 
 
THE VOYAGERS. 121 
 
 Yet ye look out on the skies 
 With such ctireless laughing eyes, 
 As ye might our love despise I 
 
 All the summer we have sung 
 1'he green forest-depths among, 
 Where the heather-blossoms sprung ; 
 
 And the dog-wood star was bright, 
 And the briar-branches white 
 Swung their censers to the light. 
 
 Sadder was the lay than thine, 
 
 Full of tears— a strange old rhyme — 
 
 Breathings from a far-off clime. 
 
 Stories from the realm of dreams, 
 Flushing up from thought's still streams, 
 In mysterious, sudden gleams. 
 
122 THE VOYAGERS. 
 
 Where away, o'er bloomy wood, 
 Meadows, streams, and stormy flood, 
 Through the cloudy solitude, 
 
 Lies the viewless path ye go ? 
 Where the lime-tree's golden bough 
 To the south wind whispers low ? 
 
 Or the citron flower's bloom. 
 Sheds its light and soft perfume, 
 In the Indian forest's gloom ? 
 
 Fare-ye-well I This bird of mine 
 Will not sing its quaint old rhyme 
 When ye come in sweet spring-time. 
 
 But down in the willow-tree 
 
 Wake, sweet birds, the "TrilUa-le I" 
 
 Sing it then for sake of me. 
 
WrTLB ASTEBS. 123 
 
 WILD ASTERS. 
 
 ASTER star ! bright aster star, 
 J No blooms I love like tliiue : 
 There's something in thy yellow eyes 
 
 That wakes the tears in mine. 
 Thou wearest the mountain's purple haze, 
 
 And the light golden sheen 
 That flecks the radiant summer skies, 
 When summer robes are green. 
 
 In childhood's time, while yet the dream 
 Of life still wore its rosy hue ; 
 
 No blossoms ever seemed as sweet, 
 As these fair stars of gold and blue — 
 
124 WILD ASTERS. 
 
 No blossom had so pure a breath ; 
 
 We were true friends in those glad days 
 Our lives two pleasant paralells, 
 
 (Jpon the silent mountain ways. 
 
 Though much of the sweet honey-dew, 
 
 Within my heart, has turned to gall 
 As o'er its treasures, one by one. 
 
 Old Time hath let his shadows foil ; 
 Yet Memory has golden lines, 
 
 Nor care nor grief may ever mar : 
 One grows brighter when my gaze 
 
 E'er meets thine own, bright aster star 
 
LAUREL HILL. 125 
 
 LAUREL HILL. 
 
 ADLY the tall grass is swaying 
 Over the silent graves : 
 Down by the low singing fountain, 
 
 The cypress and willow waves. 
 Softly the ivy is creeping 
 
 O'er tablet and sculptured stone, 
 Where the blue mildew is stealing 
 The memoirs off, one by one I 
 
 Here, in this still silent city, 
 The dwellers are ever at rest — 
 
 Folded are pallid hands lying, 
 Over each pulseless breast 1 
 
126 LAUREL HILL. 
 
 Ambition, or envy, or sorrow, 
 
 E'en love never enters here — 
 The heart has forgotten all anguish, 
 
 And the sleepers shed not a tear. 
 
 Nor the wail of the night-wind shall wake them, 
 
 Nor the glow of the morning skies — 
 The harness of labor is folded. 
 
 They no more to their toiling arise. 
 Old Death keeps the gate, and no passport 
 
 Leadeth from this domain : 
 They who enter the pale land, 
 
 Never go out again ! 
 
 " How long shall they sleep ?" says the angel — 
 'Tis the voice of the Angel of God ! 
 
 " Man earned the right of this slumber, 
 When first he in Paradise trod. — 
 
LAUREL HILL. 127 
 
 He shall be as the dust of the valley, 
 Till time, and all sin shall be o'er ; 
 
 When the Angel of deep Revelation shall come. 
 He shall wake ! He shall slumber no more V 
 
128 THE SCHOOL IN THE HIGHLANDS, 
 
 THE SCHOOL IN THE HIGHLANDS. 
 
 9 9<^^7i^^, WAS a crumbliug thing, our old school- 
 house, 
 
 With clapboards fallen and grey, 
 And windows aslant, where the summer sun 
 
 Shone pleasantly all the day. 
 
 On a bright green slope, near a dusty road, 
 At the edge of a deep, deep wood — 
 
 Far away from the stir of the murmurous town 
 In solemn grandeur it stood. 
 
 A holy quiet was lingering there. 
 
 And a spell of beauty too — 
 No banks seemed ever so freslily green. 
 
 No skies so mildly blue. 
 
THE SCHOOL IN THE HIGHLANDS. 12$ 
 
 On either side the fragrant grain 
 
 Swayed its golden tassels bright ; 
 And across the road the orchard swung 
 
 Its fruitage to the light. 
 
 There the wild rose unfolded her vestal heart 
 
 To the sportive, dallying breeze ; 
 And the woodlark gushed her freest song 
 
 High, in the waving trees 1 
 
 At rosy morn, and at eventide, 
 
 Meek faces came and went — 
 'Neath the arching boughs, that o'er the path 
 
 Their grateful shadows lent. 
 
 And though Time hath swept his shadowy hand, 
 
 Bright in the past we see 
 The scenes we loved, the faces too. 
 
 And cherish then' memory : — 
 
130 THE SCHOOL IN THE HIGHLANDS. 
 
 The mellow voice, the anxious eyes 
 
 Scanning the mystic page •, 
 The teacher too, with his thin white locks, 
 
 And form bent low with age. 
 
 The earnest tones that gently flowed, 
 
 When he knelt at even to pray, 
 And the trembling hands that in suppliance rose, 
 
 To bless us many a day. 
 
 Sad years have passed since we saw thy groves. 
 Old School ! yet our thoughts still dwell 
 
 With the sacred shades of our forest home. 
 And the place where we learned to spell. 
 
THE GALLERY 
 
BE SS. 
 
 ENTLE Bessie, have you seen her ? 
 ^^ Little Bess, the poor man's child, 
 Drifting down, where fall the shadows 
 Deepest, on hfe's ocean wild, 
 
 Bending low her slender form, 
 Like a lily to the storm. 
 
 You may know her by the sadness 
 
 Looking out upon her face ; 
 By the nameless lines and meanings 
 Only poverty can trace, 
 
 When he clasps the child of want 
 In his fingers pale and gaunt. 
 
134 BESS. 
 
 On her little childlike forehead 
 
 Lies the whiteness of the snow ; 
 And her voice so sweet, reminds you 
 Of a streamlet in its flow : 
 
 But it trem])les with the sorrow, 
 Of to-day, and of to-morrow. 
 
 In her eyes we see the sunlight 
 
 Of the spring-time of the soul, 
 And the tears that oft bedim them, 
 Her full heart may not control : 
 
 When she wonders, why so poor, 
 Bessie begs from door to door I 
 
 She will tell you, if you listen. 
 That the cupboard home is bare ; 
 
 And in touching tones imploring 
 Of your plenty some to spare : 
 
^^^.S'. 135 
 
 To keep back the wearing pain, 
 Of the hunger-pang again. 
 
 Ladye with the costly raiment ! 
 
 Ladye with the jeweled hand I 
 Listen to your heart repeating 
 Oft the Master's sweet command : 
 
 He who helps by deed and word, 
 Lendeth to the Mighty Lord. 
 
136 NELL. 
 
 NELL. 
 
 fN tattered robes, and with shoeless feet, 
 Little Nell wanders about the street ; 
 A heart adrift on lifers ocean wide — 
 A floating leaf on the surging tide — 
 A blossom bowed to tlie tempest wild, 
 Is little Nell, the poor man's child. 
 Slowly she treadeth her weary way, 
 Asking charity, day by day ; 
 And many a word and look of scorn. 
 Is hers to bear, and to return 
 Only in tears, that swiftly chase 
 In quick succession adown her face — 
 Her lovely face, where the yellow hair. 
 
NELL. 137 
 
 Ripples along to her shoulders bare ; 
 
 And shields her neck with its folds of gold, 
 
 From the summer's sun, and winter's cold. 
 
 Nellie is fair — upon her cheek 
 
 Pale roses bloom, and her blue eyes meek 
 
 'Neath then* fringed curtains steal away, 
 
 As violets hide from the light of day. 
 
 Her little story is often said, 
 
 As in sobbing tones she asks for bread — 
 
 " Her father sleeps 'neath the green turf low, 
 
 Her mother is sick and helpless now ; 
 
 She, too, alas ! she fears will die," 
 
 And the breath comes short, and the gushing sigh 
 
 Chokes the words ; and she weeps aloud. 
 
 Standing alone in the rushing crowd. 
 
 Oh I ye, who on the Sabbath day. 
 
 On broidered cushions kneel to pray — 
 
 Who in graceful cadence your voices raise, 
 
138 NELL. 
 
 Neath frescoed arches, in songs of praise — 
 Who garner earth's treasure and pleasant soil, 
 And forge the chains for the sous of toil ; 
 Remember poor Nellie, who asketh a crust, 
 And think of your treasures, that mildew and rust ; 
 Thmk of thy brothers and sisters fair, 
 Who bow beneath burdens heavy to bear — 
 Of him who starved in the days of old 
 At the rich man's gate, who loved his gold. 
 
THE SEWmG GIRL. 139 
 
 THE SEWING GIRL. 
 
 LL day long she sits to sew, 
 
 m... 
 
 Patient, and pale, and still,- 
 Fading away like the slender plants 
 
 That bloom on the window sill ; 
 She heedeth not the beauty that floats 
 
 Over the blushing sky, 
 Nor heareth the pleasant melody 
 
 Of the wind's low lullaby. 
 
 Through the misty mazes of ruffle and hem, 
 And flounce, and band, and seam. 
 
 Her fair fingers wander, till her thoughts 
 Are lost, as if in a dream ; 
 
140 THE SEWING GIRL. 
 
 And swiftly the stitches come and go 
 O'er the glittering needle bright, 
 
 From earliest dawn of the weary day, 
 Until the deep midnight. 
 
 The roses are pale in her youthful cheek. 
 
 Yet she is very fair — 
 Simple her robe, nor ringlet, nor braid 
 
 Adorneth her glossy hair, 
 That waveth its shining beauty along 
 
 Her temples, and falling low, 
 Clusters in golden tufts upon 
 
 Her neck, that is white as snow. 
 
 She is making silk gowns for ladies fair, 
 
 Who never toil or spin. 
 Yet she murmurs not, the pray'r she is saying 
 
 Keepeth her heart from sin — 
 
TEE SEWING GIRL. 141 
 
 Keepeth her heart from asking why 
 Her burdens are heavy to bear, 
 
 While many whose forms are far less frail, 
 Are strangers to toil or care — 
 
 Keepeth her spirit from asking who 
 
 Are forging the chains for the poor ! 
 Why some are doomed to famine and want. 
 
 And others have plenty in store I 
 All day long she sits to sew, 
 
 Patient, and pale, and still — 
 Fading away like the slender plants 
 
 That bloom on her window-sill. 
 
142 THE FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 THE FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "^^ ULU walks beside the sea, 
 J^^ Where the waves come evermore ; 
 And her heart is sobbing, sobbing 
 Like the waters on the shore. 
 
 O'er her shoulders white and bare, 
 Like shriven gold, the yellow hair 
 Wildly floats. On her breast 
 Her snowy hands like lilies rest. 
 
 All day long she waiteth there, 
 
 Gazing out upon the foam 
 Till the sun hath left the heaven. 
 
 And the sea-bird seeks her home : 
 
THE FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 143 
 
 Till the young moon hangs her sickle high, 
 Golden, in the silent sky, — 
 And amid the mist afar, 
 Trembles alone the evening star. 
 
 Lulu had a lover true, 
 
 Who went down upon the deep, — 
 Now, beneath the surging waters 
 Lulu's lover lies asleep. 
 
 She is mad ; and all things seem 
 To her spirit like a dream, 
 As she waits upon the shore, 
 For his coming evermore. 
 
 -*C^I>*- 
 
144 KIAQARA. 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 J (7 LL hail to tbee, Niac^ara I Monarch thou, 
 jj\J^ Before whose echoing thunders, every sound 
 Shrinks tearfully away ! The pilgrim heart 
 Bowing in deepest homage at thy shrine, 
 Trembles, and sinks in fear ! The admiring eye, 
 Pressed by thy startling grandeur, droops in tears : 
 And the frail lyre that would its sweetest strains 
 Invoke unto thy praise, alas ! grows dumb. 
 Bright as the stars ! thy mantle : and thy crown, 
 The circling bow wherewith He spans the heavens. 
 And thy cloud-shadowed feet, even stand as once 
 At Israel's tent, thy glorious Maker's stood : 
 Of whose great majesty and power sublime, 
 His hand hath formed thee evermore to speak I 
 
HOME m THE CATSKILLS. 145 
 
 HOME IN THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 9 ^tt/^ J^S a rude old home ; a cabin low, 
 
 JijA Of stone unhewn and grey, 
 Afar from the stir of busy life, 
 
 Beside a mountain way. 
 O'er the dim walls fresh clinging vines 
 
 Cast down a glowing sheen, 
 And stately elms along the path 
 
 Nod their fragrant branches green. 
 
 A pleasant calm ever hovers down 
 In the radiant breathing wood. 
 
 And murmurous mellow sounds awake 
 The purple solitude : 
 
146 HOME IN THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 The soughing wind in the tasselled pines, 
 
 The wild birds in the trees, 
 The laughing streams, the ferns among, 
 
 Gush sweetest melodies. 
 
 The aster gleams its purple stars 
 
 Around the rustic door, 
 And witli the light the shadows play 
 
 Along the oaken floor — 
 The bare old floor, that ne'er hath known 
 
 Or weft or soft disguise, 
 Save the chequering beams of gold and grey 
 
 That fall from the mountain skies. 
 
 Returning seasons bring their bloom, 
 
 And the kindly soil repays 
 Hands that are never slow to learn. 
 
 Industry's cheerful ways. 
 
HOME m TEE GATSKILLS. 147 
 
 Bright waving wheat-fields sway and glow. 
 
 Like dots of gold, between 
 The gnarled groves, and patient herds 
 
 On flowering plains are seen. 
 
 An aged face, in the summer days, 
 
 Looks up to the arching sky ; 
 And drowsy ears are listening oft 
 
 To the humming lullaby 
 Of the busy wheel, where a maiden fair 
 
 Treadeth to and fro, 
 Weaving a soft and glistening woof, 
 
 From wool tliat is white as snow. 
 
 And white is her hand — her little hand 
 
 That is glimmering all day long 
 In the snowy fleece ; the while her lips 
 
 Breathe out a wild, sweet song, 
 
148 HOME IN THE GATSKILLS. 
 
 In the humble home, the cabm low 
 Of stone, unhewn and grey, 
 
 Standing alone, on a bright green spot 
 Beside the mountain wav. 
 
MAY. 149 
 
 MAY. 
 
 HERE'S a blusli on the sky I 
 A balm on the air, 
 There is music, and beauty, 
 
 And bloom, everywhere — 
 The young flowers peeping 
 
 Over the hills. 
 The white laughing fountains 
 
 The whispering rills, — 
 All welcome the beautiful Spring I 
 
 On the green meadows 
 See the lambkins at play ; 
 
 Where the children are twining 
 Their white buds of May. 
 
150 MA Y. 
 
 And old age wanders forth 
 With a smile and a tear ; 
 
 0, the rich and the poor 
 Hail the child of the year, 
 
 The beautiful, blossoming Spring ! 
 
 The yule log has burned 
 
 On the bright winter hearth, 
 And the holly-bough smiled, 
 
 O'er our song and our mirth. 
 But awtiy with the liolly ! 
 
 And bright Christmas tree : 
 Old Winter's cold reign 
 
 Brings no treasure for me, 
 Like the beautiful, blossoming Spring I 
 
PICTURE OF MIRIAM. 151 
 
 PICTURE OF MIRIAM. 
 
 =^AIR maiden minstrel I as I gaze on tlioe 
 Standing alone upon yon rocky cliff, 
 Thy simple vestures swaying in the clasp 
 Of the wild desert wind : thy flowing hair 
 Like a dark mantle o'er thy shoulders cast, 
 Thou seemest more than woman. Blessed forms, 
 That in th' glad days agone, with sinless feet 
 Trod the green valleys of the virgin earth, 
 Rise to my vision. 
 
 But thou art only woman. 
 High o'er thy heaving breast the timbrel-lyre 
 Wafts to the pillar'd cloud its rushing hymn ; 
 While streaming eye and tremulous lip foretells, 
 Th' ecstatic burden of thy soul's sweet song. 
 
153 PICTURE OF MIRIAM. 
 
 No taint of earth wells there on its free tide ; 
 But holy love, in its pure vestal flame, 
 Springs heavenward to th' eternal light that keeps 
 Forever clear and bright, Faith's altar-fires. 
 
 " 0, sing unto the Lord ! 0, ye people ! 
 
 He hath heard your cry ! He hath delivered you. 
 
 The spear and the helm hath He broken ! 
 
 The horse and the rider hath He laid low. — 
 
 Fear no more, Israel ! Thine enemies. 
 
 The lightnings of His vengeance hath destroyed !" 
 
 
HOMESTEAD ON THE MOHAWK. 153 
 
 HOMESTEAD ON THE MOHAWK. 
 
 ^VMT ONELY it stands in dim decay, 
 JM^^^ Our house on the grand old hill ; 
 The pride of its ancient glory is past, 
 And the mildew creepeth sure and fast 
 Over roof and crumbling sill. 
 
 The spider weaves her glistening woof 
 
 Over slanting window and door, 
 But the sunlight falls, through the shattered pane, 
 And floods with a golden beauty again 
 
 The desolate, broken floor. 
 
 High on the wall the hop-vine climbs, 
 Wliere the stones have fretted away — 
 
154 HOMESTEAD ON TEE MOEA WK. 
 
 Where the chrysahs hangs his cup of gold 
 Among the leaves, o'er the ruin old, 
 And waits the awak'ning day. 
 
 The swallows still build in early spring, 
 And the sweets of the garden bloom ; 
 But the grateful sound of pattering feet, 
 And voices low, in converse sweet, 
 Ne'er gladdens the silent gloom. 
 
 ! a solemn lesson to the heart 
 
 Speaks in the ruin grey, — 
 Of broken links in love's bright chain, 
 Of joys that never come again, 
 
 Dashed by Time's hand away ! 
 
EVE. 155 
 
 EVE. 
 
 OWN by a flowery fountain 
 Sits Eden's fair maiden, Eve 
 Slow through her sunny locks flaxen, 
 
 Ever her white fingers weave. 
 Low at the brim of the waters. 
 
 Like lilies, her snowy feet lie — 
 Sinless, the thoughts of her bosom, 
 Tearless her beautiful eye. 
 
 Soft, through the light dripping foliage 
 Floats the sweet breath of the gale ; 
 
 Bearing the fresh drifting fragrance 
 Of the spice blossoming vale I 
 
156 EVE. 
 
 Numberless voices are murmuring 
 Deep melodies up to the skies, 
 
 And in mid-air gleams the pinion 
 Of the bright bird of Paradise I 
 
 As in a dream sits the maiden, 
 
 The wonder of angel and man ; 
 The bright locking link of the future — 
 
 The germ of creation's great plan. 
 Nor vision, nor thought hath possessed her 
 
 Listless, as if in a dream. 
 She knows not her soul ; but, wildering. 
 
 Looks at the gold-bedded stream I 
 
 Lo ! through the leaves amethystine 
 Gaze her blue, starry eyes — 
 
 The joy of her spirit returning. 
 Blesses with sudden surprise I 
 
EVE. 
 
 157 
 
 Adam, long gone in the vineyard, 
 Coming down over the plain — 
 But at his side, lo 1 an angel. 
 
 Bearing a bright sword of flame 
 
158 
 
 THE INSANE. 
 
 THE INSANE. 
 
 ^Mllr^'^ HERE'S a sobbing sound — a wail of 
 
 woe ! — 
 An invalid paces to and fro, 
 And pale hands wander along the wall 
 Of a little room in a mad-house hall. 
 Stern misfortune overtook 
 His spirit ; and reason her realm forsook. 
 And many a dreary day has come 
 And gone, since he saw the light of home. 
 There are none to dry the dews that now 
 Are gathering fast upon his brow, — 
 None to hear the gushing sigh 
 Of this last fearful agony. 
 
THE INSANE. 159 
 
 A cry of pain ! A plaintive moan 
 Comes out on the night, — " Must I die alone ? 
 Shall these eyes close, and never more 
 Gaze upon aught that was dear before ?" 
 Hark ! There's a hast'ning, hurrying sound, 
 The bolts unbar with quick rebound. 
 And tones as harsh as th' tempest's breath 
 Are heard in that desolate place of death : — 
 '' Cease thy raving ; or down below 
 To the darkened cell thou shalt quickly go !" 
 'Tis the keeper's voice. — The night wind's sigh 
 And a silent tear, is the sad reply. 
 
 'Tis morning. Over the sanded floor 
 The sunlight falls : and the bolted door 
 Is open now. On a white couch lies 
 One who met death's agonies 
 
160 THE INSANE. 
 
 Alone. — A smile on the pallid face 
 Is all of suffering' the eye may trace. 
 Rigid and cold on the pulseless breast 
 The folded hands in silence rest ; 
 And one who could not be forgiven 
 On earth, has found a home in heaven. 
 
 r\r\^^J^ 
 
THE STEP-DAUGHTER. 161 
 
 THE STEP-DAUGHTER. 
 
 J^ LOOK of woe is on her face — 
 /aJ^ a shadowy look of gloom ; 
 As listless through the lonesome day 
 
 She goes from room to room. 
 Her eyes are red with many a tear — 
 
 Hat tears in secret shed ; 
 And her shining curls in a tangled mass 
 
 Are matted about her head. 
 
 Oh I never a kind, kind word for her ; 
 
 To others all belono- • 
 In childish strife, or in childish play, 
 
 She is ever in the wrou":. 
 
162 THE STEP-DAUGHTER. 
 
 And she dare not laugh, when others laugh — 
 
 There is an angry face 
 She dreads, and a hand whose marks on hei's 
 
 In purpling lines we trace I 
 
 An ugly face frowns now, where one 
 
 Once loving and lovely shone ; 
 She sighing looks on its wicked lines, 
 
 And thinks of the bright one gone : 
 Of the kindly eyes, and low, calm voice, 
 
 Whose tones, tho' long died away. 
 Left a memory sweet around her soul — 
 
 A joy that will ever stay. 
 
 Sometimes she walks the dusty road, 
 
 Gathering the crimson leaves, 
 Or from brook-side flowers, with curious skill, 
 
 A motley wreath she weaves ; 
 
TEE STEP-DAUGHTER. 1G3 
 
 And places it, with playful pride, 
 
 Over her little brow — 
 Over the face, the mirror of one 
 
 Asleep 'neath the earth-clod now 1 
 
 As sweet, and still, as the lilies pale 
 
 That bloom by that brook-side ; 
 Yet all uncherished, uncared for too, 
 
 As the weed upon the tide. 
 None look to see where the little feet 
 
 In their wilful wanderings roam, 
 None haste to welcome, at even-tide, 
 
 The unloved wanderer home. 
 
 ! we have seen stern manhood left 
 Mid stream, with helm nor oar ; 
 
 And woman's heart, in the darkness left 
 Of its sin for evermore ; 
 
164 
 
 THE STEP-DAUGHTEE. 
 
 And Want's pale cheek ; deserted age ; 
 
 The fair and early dead j 
 But the bitterest tears our eyes e'er wept, 
 
 For the poor ste|>child were shed. 
 
CHRIST BY THE SEA OF TIBERIAS 165 
 
 CHRIST BY THE SEA OF TIBERIAS. 
 
 ESIDE the sea, He stood. His shining 
 OS) feet 
 Casting a mellow radiance on the sands ; 
 And circling like a belt of living light, 
 Upon the dark and solemn waters fell, 
 The glory of their God. 
 
 No traces dim, 
 Of damp sepulchral glooms, a shade has left 
 Upon the glowing robes. No thorned braid 
 Embands the snowy temples. — Waving there. 
 Beams the bright shadow of the crown He wore 
 Within His father's kingdom. 
 0, blessed voice ! 0, blessed hands that sought 
 
166 CHEIST BY THE SEA OF TIBERIAS. 
 
 Another proof of love to offer there 
 To weak and faithless hearts, that turned aside 
 When th' dark shadow of Thy sorrow lowered 
 Its deepest, mightiest shade. 
 
 Upon the tide, — 
 Dashed by the fitful current of the waves 
 Through the long weary night, a little bark 
 Trims up its fi-etted sail toward the land. 
 Hunger and cold are there : and the unrest, 
 That earnest toiling brings to empty hands. 
 
 But hark ! What music sways upon the wind ! 
 A tone sweet-sounding as an angel lyre, 
 Had wafted its soft echoes through the night. — 
 " Cast down thy net once more, and thou shalt find !" 
 0, Peter knew his Master's voice : and quick, 
 Girting his fisher's mantle round him, sprung- 
 Through the cold waves to worship at His feet. 
 
CHRIST BY THE SEA OF TIBERIAS 167 
 
 Thou ! Blessed Lord ! So let the Christian soul 
 
 In sorest gloom and tides of sorrow feel, 
 
 The kindly light of Thy beloved eyes. 
 
 And from the "World's high tempest, unto Thee, 
 
 Amid her tears, turn quickly evermore 
 
 To hear Tliy voice above the rocking storm. 
 
168 TO A NUN IN THE 
 
 TO A NUN 
 
 IN THE SACRED HEART CONVENT. 
 
 ER cheek has lost its bright rose of 
 red, 
 
 And pensively droopeth her beautiful head. 
 Her white bands are wandering evermore 
 The gilded rosary o'er and o'er ; 
 And up at the starry chancel of Heaven 
 Her spirit pleadeth to be forgiven : — 
 For the sin of her love, or the sin of her hate, 
 For all that hath left her so desolate : 
 For the wildering dream that she dared not speak 
 Of passion, that caused her young heart to break. 
 She hath sought in the cloister to part the chain 
 That bound her fast, but again, and again, 
 
SACRED HEART CONVENT. 169 
 
 Betwixt the prayers, the vision comes ; 
 
 And she listeneth not to the monotones 
 
 Of the choiring band, nor the melody 
 
 Of the pale ones chanting the " Ave Marie." 
 
 Earth and its beauty is naught to her. 
 
 She is only a silent worshiper. 
 
 And hath chastened her heart from all earthly stains 
 
 With tears, and prayers, and penance pains ! 
 
 Around her in sacred niches, stand 
 
 The imaged saints ; and with pallid hand 
 
 She ever pauses to cross her brow, 
 
 Murmuring the " Pater Noster" low. 
 
 And as sne lingers, the amber light, 
 
 That falls on her face and bosom white, 
 
 Such ethereal beauty shows, that she 
 
 More ano-el than mortal seems to be. 
 
170 TEE MILL. 
 
 a 
 
 THE MILL 
 
 ON'T you remember, Lill, 
 The mill by the old hill side, 
 Where we used to go in the summer days 
 
 And watch the foamy tide ? 
 And throw the leaves of the rockinor beech 
 
 On its surface, smooth and bright ; 
 When they'd float away like emeralds, 
 In a flood of golden light ? 
 
 And the miller, Lill, with slouchy cap, 
 
 And eyes of mildest grey ; 
 Plodding about his dusty work, 
 
 Singing the livelong day. 
 
THE MILL. 171 
 
 And the coat that hung ou the rusty nail, 
 
 With many a motley patch, 
 By the rude old door, with broken sill, 
 
 And string and wooden latch. 
 
 A.nd the water-wheel, with its giant arms 
 
 Dashing the beaded spray, 
 And pulling the weeds from the sand below. 
 
 That it tossed in scorn away. 
 The sleepers too, bearded and old, 
 
 Frowning over the tide ; 
 Defying the waves, while the chinks of Time 
 
 Were made in the old mill's side. 
 
 Well, Lill, the mill is torn away, 
 
 And a factory, dark and high, 
 Looms like a tower, and puffs its smoke 
 
 Over the clear blue sky. 
 
172 THE MILL. 
 
 And the stream is turned away, above — 
 The bed of the river is bare ; 
 
 The beech is withered, bough and trunk, 
 And stands Uke a spectre there. 
 
 The miller, too, has gone to rest — 
 
 He sleeps in the vale below ; 
 They made his grave in the winter time, 
 
 Down where the willows grow. 
 But now the boughs are green again, 
 
 And the winds are soft and still ; 
 I send you a sprig, to mind you, Lill, 
 
 Of me, and the rude old mill. 
 
 
EARLY SPRING. 173 
 
 EARLY SPRING. 
 
 '^HERE is something balmy, sometliing 
 sweet 
 
 111 the wind as it murmurs by ; 
 And a rosy blush is swaying, swaying, 
 
 Over the clear blue sky. 
 The fleecy clouds have a golden fringe 
 
 As they float to the west away — 
 Returning life, returning bloom, 
 Heralds the bright spring day. 
 
 The lilac is waving her fingers blue 
 In the garden, and over the mold 
 
 Fair Spring is spreading softly now 
 A carpet of green and gold. 
 
174 EAIILY SPRma. 
 
 The unfolding maple and alder leaves, 
 
 Exhale to the warm sunliglit 
 Their gift of fragrance, and on the hedge 
 
 Are nodding the May-blooms white. 
 
 The limpid streams in the meadows sing. 
 
 The birds carol in the trees ; 
 And like specks of amber, floating, floating, 
 
 Waver the honey bees. 
 0, there's a spell of gladness and beauty, 
 
 That comes with the blossoming time ; 
 That flows to the heart, in sorrow enfolded, 
 
 And 'tis hovering o'er thine, and mine. 
 
DISOWNED. 175 
 
 DISOWNED. 
 
 f^tT^HEY tell me that my home is fair 
 
 JiiL As when I left it years agone ; 
 Still smile the skies as brightly down 
 
 On fragrant hill and lawn : 
 The clustering vine, whose whispering leaves 
 
 Made mellow music round the door, 
 As softlv murmurs, sweetly blooms, 
 
 As in the happy days of yore. 
 
 They tell me that the wild bird wakes 
 Her song beside my lattice yet : 
 
 The voice tliat carolled with her own 
 Her free wild heart may not forget ; 
 
176 DISOWNED. 
 
 And the fair willow-trees, that swung 
 Their glistening branches to and fro, 
 
 Still o'er the summer window seat 
 Their grateful murmurs throw. 
 
 The brook that in the shadow swept 
 
 A silvery gleam the road beside, 
 Dimples along its shining bed 
 
 With the same unchanging tide ; 
 And the white thorn grows beside the stream- 
 
 Ah ! well I know its shady place : 
 The alders too, whose purple boughs 
 
 Drooped o'er the stream's white face. 
 
 They tell me that at eve is heard 
 In the old hall, the sounds of mirth ; 
 
 And grateful voices wake the soul 
 Of music round the ancient hearth : 
 
DISOWNED. nr 
 
 That many an eye grows dim with tears, 
 When by fond lips my name is spoken — 
 
 Alas ! that ties so dear could e'er, 
 By chance or change, be broken. 
 
 Though now along the darkened moors 
 
 My weary feet are hurrying fast, 
 Sweet Memory's bright and shining chain 
 
 Still l^inds me to tiie past ; 
 And from the fearful desert way, 
 
 Whose cheating mirage lured me on. 
 My soul looks back, with fondness yet 
 
 To thee, my loved, my broken home I 
 
 a 
 
i,>uy LINE of ambers, (quaint old niirscTy tale. 
 
 JJui^ Old as the bills ; one of Eve's own no doubt) 
 
 Strung round the throat, or young, or old, will rout 
 
 All forms of cankers : fever, plague, and pest 
 
 That pluck at th' life, and sting the unwary breast 
 
 Till it lie prone ; a clod within the vale. 
 
 So, kind Philosophy's tender truths enshrined 
 
 Like amulet gems, encircling the mind ; 
 
 Keep at strong bay the fiends that clutch the soul. — 
 
 Doubt, Fear, Despair, Love, Hate, own their control. 
 
 And frayed sick hearts, o'er wearied topling brains, 
 
 Counting the jewels o'er, forget their pains. 
 
THE AMBERS. 
 
CONTENTMENT. 
 
 I HERE is a saying that we reck a true one, 
 That what we have, we slightly less esteem 
 Than that we seek : if e'er our grasp eiudhig 
 The ignis-fatuus may past attainment seem. 
 
 So bent on perverse purposes, the mmd 
 Against its peace will ever build a wal 
 
 Seeking a brighter Eden, always keeps 
 Repeatiag o'er the story of the Fall. 
 
 It is the hunger that the Satan charm 
 Cast o'er our mother, as she sat aloue ; 
 
 Whose poison spell forever haunts the heart. 
 Consuming all its pleasures, one by one. 
 
182 GONTENTMENT. 
 
 The mist that ha.ngs its veil of silvery blue 
 Upon the mountain side, or hill afar ; 
 
 At near approach, is but the rising dew, 
 
 Whose chilling damps may all thy breathings mar 
 
 The Iris bow that lures the wondering gaze, 
 Spannmg the azure arch in curves so fair ; 
 
 Is but the mirage-show that Beauty's hand 
 Hath cast upon the gloom and tempest there. 
 
 Joys we may claim are ever lingering near ; 
 
 Humble and lowly though their light may be, 
 We'll find them springing flower-like in our way, 
 
 And falHng like sweet blossoms from the tree. 
 
 Clasp them ; and troiisnre as the gifts of Him 
 Who gave the golden talents in days of yore. 
 
 And God, who watches for thy gratitude. 
 Will, for thy faith, increase thy little store. 
 
THE SOLDIER. 183 
 
 THE SOLDIER. 
 
 lliJJMKiT -^'^^^^j ^^^^ t^o^ ^'^y crumbs 
 M^Jjl)^ Eor a grey-haired man to-day ? 
 I'm not poor, good lady kind, 
 But my home is far away. 
 
 I have a mansion grand and fair : 
 Far and wide my lands are spread ; 
 
 Yet a stranger here, at times, 
 Know not where to lay my head. 
 
 Look not on my garments thus — 
 They are thin, I know, and old ; 
 
 And when blows the wintry blast, 
 Scarcely keep me from the cold : 
 
184 THE SOLDIER. 
 
 But within my stately home 
 I have regal robes to wear ; 
 
 Pure, and white, and costly too, 
 They are waiting for me there. 
 
 I'm a soldier. I have fought 
 
 In many a battle — fierce and hard : 
 
 But the kingdom that I serve 
 Is not slow with its reward. 
 
 Should I ne'er repay the deed, 
 When my Captain comes this way 
 
 He will not forget the crumbs, 
 That the matron gave to-day. 
 
 Then the matron broke the bread — 
 " Tell me where your country hes ?" 
 
 Tlien he answered — pale and tearful, 
 Ah ! my home is in the skies. 
 
THE SOLDIER. 185 
 
 And my home is in the city 
 
 Whose broad pavement is of gold : 
 
 Where the mildew never enters, 
 Nor the moth, nor rust, nor mold. 
 
 The great warfare I've been waging, 
 
 Is the warfare against sin. — 
 Nothing wicked or unholy 
 
 Can at the City enter in. 
 
 And the King who leads our army, 
 He is called the Christ of God. — 
 
 And the banner of our country 
 Is besprinkled with His blood. 
 
 Thus the old man ever wandered, 
 Treading slow from door to door. 
 
 Saying : Give me ! Though I'm hungry, 
 I am rich. I am not poor. 
 
186 fruition; 
 
 FRUITION. 
 
 >?^W^IS all the same. If not, know it soon 
 
 m. will be ; 
 
 Though now thy feet may trea.d the thorny way ; 
 Time's changing glass shows all things are but 
 shadows, 
 
 And life itself is but a fleeting day. 
 
 Toil but for good ; and never reck the scorner — 
 Better than smiles is the word of blame ; 
 
 It will unloose the bonds the world hath on thee, 
 And show thee praise is but an empty name. 
 
 Mourn not. If in thy cup the draught is bitter, 
 Bitter is wholesome, — safer than the sweet — 
 
FRUITION. 187 
 
 Sorrow may wear the heart, but it will chasten, 
 And make thee fairer, His pure smile to meet. 
 
 Faint not. Though others hold a flowing measure 
 And thou hast ever but an empty hand ; 
 
 Lose not thy faith ! 'tis but the ban and falsehood 
 That man hath written o'er God's pleasant land. 
 
 Even as on the flowers fall the rain and sunshine 
 Equal and free ; so doth His tender care 
 
 Cover His children : 'tis but thy wicked brother 
 Hath stolen thy bu-thright, and robbed thy 
 goodly share. 
 
 But the fan* paths of virtue still pursuing, 
 Aim at the right, however sad thy fate ; 
 
 Some joy shall crown thee, if thy hand still scatter 
 Its drop of balm to the disconsolate. 
 
188 
 
 FRUITION. 
 
 Then, when the day fast hastening shall overtake thee, 
 Though poor and broken and covered o'er with 
 blame ; 
 
 If He shall claim thy purpose and thy effort 
 For its fulfilment, it will be all the same. 
 
THE MAIDEN'S FRIEND. 189 
 
 THE MAIDEN'S FRIEND. 
 
 ;y-ss^ MAIDEN, why so happy ? withm thy 
 ^^ J quiet eyes 
 No sorrow-drops e'er gather, nor threat'ning storms 
 
 And evermore unto us, thy sweet tones come 
 
 and go 
 Like a silver bell's soft pealing, or a streamlet in 
 
 its flow. 
 
 Upon thy brow's sereneness no marring shadows 
 
 creep, 
 But holy thoughts seem welKng, from thy soul's 
 
 abysses deep, 
 
190 THE MAIDEN'S FRIEND. 
 
 And cluster up their whiteness amid those veins 
 
 of blue, 
 As the beauty of thy forehead was the spirit, 
 
 shining through 
 
 Then the maiden to the minstrel said : I have a 
 
 pleasant guest, 
 
 And she evermore unto me is a joy, withm my 
 
 breast ; 
 
 And she sings a gentle story — a sweet celestial 
 
 psalm — 
 All the ills of my young spirit it healeth like a balm. 
 
 Her robes are pure and snowy ; she hath no taint 
 
 of sin : 
 Wherever she abideth no deep woe may enter in — 
 Despair, nor Hate, nor Envy ; nor all the drfiad 
 
 array 
 Of Passions, that beleaguer and fret the soul away. 
 
TEE MAIDEN'S FRIEND. 191 
 
 This maid of whom I tell thee, is not of mortal 
 
 birth ; 
 She hath come from a far city, to defend the soul.s 
 
 of earth ; 
 And guarding tlieir fair portals, she ma,keth strong 
 
 defence 
 Against all sin, and sorrow ; and her name is 
 
 Innocence 1 
 
192 HUMILITY, 
 
 HUMILITY. 
 
 HERE is a face that oft times unto 
 me 
 
 Turns from its stony casement grand and high ; 
 Looking with plaisant glance, as it besought 
 
 Of all the throng that idly pass it by, 
 Some eloquent recognition of the claim 
 
 It makes upon fair Beauty : so the row 
 Of puff, and band, and bead, that link it round 
 In fashion-Hnes, at least would seem to show. 
 
 There is a haughty meaning in its air ; yet more 
 Of vanity than pride the eye may trace : 
 
 A lip and cheek — one wonders how such depth 
 Of bloom could blossom in such little space. 
 
HUMILITY. 193 
 
 'Tis what the world calls fair ; nor young, nor old, — 
 Somewhere betwixt the autumn and the spring — 
 
 Just where the storm and sunshine of the mind 
 Their true transferrings to the features bring. 
 
 Its glance is icy cold ; and if it smiled, 
 
 Methinks the ray would quickly come and go — 
 A surface gleam, and to the vision bring 
 
 A thought of winter skies, or moonht snow. . 
 Then there's another face, that sometimes peers 
 
 From its low lattice meekly up to mine ; 
 And when it looks, 'tis as a sudden light 
 
 Within my heart, and on my path did shine. 
 
 The beauty in it is such as we trace 
 
 In humble flowers,— fairest on closest view : 
 
 A pale bloom cheek, a brow serenely calm, 
 And hopeful eyes of tenderest, softest blue. 
 
194 HUMILITY. 
 
 It has a look of sadness, as the heart 
 
 Had read its lesson from a shadowy leaf ; 
 
 Yet so becalmed, as if the prayerful soul 
 Had kept at bay the keener stings of grief. 
 
 There are no flash adornments : no array 
 
 Of garish traps that cry — come, me behold ! 
 But sweet simplicity has smoothly laid 
 
 On either side, the locks of aubura gold. 
 I know an innocent spirit dwelleth there ; 
 
 Angel or woman — closely they are akin 
 When truly either, shedding like a balm 
 
 Their gift of goodness in this world of sin. 
 
TEE WATCHERS WARRING. 195 
 
 THE WATCHER'S WARNING 
 
 ICK! Tick! Tick T 
 
 Whose hand is over the page 
 Of the strange, dark book ye read ? 
 
 Treading from youth to age. 
 Bhnd and old am I — 
 
 Of eyes ye may have two : 
 Who tells the mystical line 
 
 The better — blnid me ? or you ? 
 
 Tick I Tick ! Tick ! 
 
 List to the tide of Time 
 Flowing over thy heart. 
 
 Dost hear the wave's low chime ? 
 Thy face is young and bright, 
 
 Like mine, it will soon be old. — 
 
196 THE WATCHER'S WARNII^'G. 
 
 Go, while thy days are long, 
 
 Get thee wisdom and gold. 
 
 Tick I Tick ! Tick ! 
 
 Orchards and fields of bloom 
 Out in the Future dim ; 
 
 And desolate fields of gloom, 
 O'er fallows rough and wide, 
 
 Await thy coming feet. 
 Cast from thy soul the bitter — 
 
 Cherish the good and sweet. 
 
 Now, while I count the haurs 
 
 With my weird voice full of tears, 
 Now gather in the honey 
 
 For the gall of coming years. 
 Let Innocence walk beside thee, 
 
 And, where e'er thy path may be, 
 Or ever so black the desert, 
 
 Some flowers will spring for thee. 
 
BUNCH OF RUE. 
 
THE FORSAKEN. 
 
 H I 'twas a pleasant dream that thou 
 did'st love me ; 
 Too full of bliss, too bright, too dear to last : 
 One by one its vestal lights have faded — 
 All perished now within the silent past. 
 
 Gone like the radiance that illumes the morning, 
 Or like the fragrance on the wild winds borne 
 
 Eled like the bloom that parts the blossom, 
 When from the dewy stem the flower is torn. 
 
200 THE FORSAKEN. 
 
 Life hath no boon : Hope no promised blessing, 
 Now that the joy of loving thee is o'er ; 
 
 Yet every breath shall breathe the invocation, 
 That Heaven may bless thee, now and evermore. 
 
 And though pale Sorrow hath wrapt her mantle 
 round me, 
 
 And walketh with my spu'it night and day. 
 Fond thoughts of thee — memories pure and holy, 
 
 Like rosy visions, cheer the lonely way. 
 
CAPRICE. 201 
 
 CAPRICE. 
 LACK a day ! 'tis a sad thing at best, 
 To fall a-love-sick in the pleasant spring ; 
 I could not think this friend within my breast, 
 Would do its owner such a sorry thing. 
 
 The story I would tell, but then the world 
 
 So cold, might take small interest in the theme ; 
 
 And, smiling at my woe, would only jest — 
 Call it a brain-chimera, or a dream. 
 
 So I will lock the story, with the love, 
 Close in the soul's fair vestibule away — 
 
 Perhaps he'll come to find, in some far time, 
 The one — 'tis a deep doubt, but then you know, 
 he may. 
 
202 CAPRICE, 
 
 I would not have him know, for mines of gold, 
 How evermore before my tearful eyes 
 
 His image comes, and fades, then dawns again, 
 Till all my breathings are but love-lorn sighs. 
 
 With lagging step, I wander to the hills. 
 Wooing the calm that gentle Nature brings : 
 
 The turf is green, the airs are soft and bland ; 
 And in the wood young Cyane sweetly sings. 
 
 The hedge is feathery white ; the violet blooms, 
 And minstrel Bob, in the new-budding tree 
 
 Wakes his cantatas ; but alas ! I hear 
 
 Only the tones of one, who never thinks of me. 
 
 ''^-^<^s>^^~ 
 
GANZONIE. 203 
 
 CANZONIE. 
 
 HELTER me in thy heart, beloved, 
 In thy generous, gladsome heart ; 
 And, like a dove let me nestle there, 
 Never again to part. 
 
 I will sing fond lullabies, beloved, 
 
 Pleasant strains of melody ; 
 And I'll be a source of light and joy 
 
 And happiness unto thee. 
 
 The world is cold, without, beloved. 
 But thy heart is warm and true -^ 
 
 I see its kindliness welling up. 
 In those beautiful eyes of blue. 
 
204 GANZONIE. 
 
 In those beautiful eyes of blue, beloved ; 
 
 Whose light hath woven a spell 
 Around my soul ; that will not part, 
 
 And it longeth with thee to dwell. 
 
 Then shelter me in thy heart, beloved, 
 In thy generous, gladsome heart ; 
 
 And like a dove, let me nestle there 
 Never again to part. 
 
NOT FOR ME. 205 
 
 XOT FOR ME. 
 
 NOT for me, the joy to know, 
 One treasured thought of thine to share 
 The grief, the burden, and the tears, 
 Are mine, alas 1 alone to bear. 
 
 Nor would I cast one shade of gloom 
 On aught so glad, so gay and free— 
 
 I would not charge thy careless heart 
 With one sad thought of me. 
 
 The mountain roses that exhale 
 Their fragrance to the lonely skies ; 
 
 As sweetly breathe, as freshly bloom, 
 Although unseen by mortal eyes. 
 
206 NOT FOB ME. 
 
 The gushing stream that sweeps its tide 
 Mid barren wastes and vales along ; 
 
 As purely springs, as freely flows, 
 As if by flowering banks it sung. 
 
 Forgive me then if unexpressed, 
 Within the cloister of the soul, 
 
 Sweet thoughts of thee, like incense bum, 
 Nor pride may check, nor will control. 
 
COME HOME, 20r 
 
 COME HOME. 
 
 OME home 1 come home ! The violet has 
 faded, 
 
 And the pale heath-flower bloomed for thee in 
 vain : 
 The fair laburnum, now thy seat hath shaded, 
 Where waits the rose to meet thy smile again. 
 
 Come home ! come home I Sadly the summer voices 
 Echo their sweetness through the lonely hours : 
 
 Nature's soft lyre no more the heart rejoices, 
 And Love is weeping in the time of flowers. 
 
208 COME HOME. 
 
 There rests a gloom upon the pleasant places 
 Where once thy feet have trod : — a tearful 
 shade — 
 
 A presence gone ! a joy the mind retraces, 
 
 Like the bright memories mirth and music made. 
 
 ! there are lips that may not greet thy coming, 
 That on thy way their purest blessing lent ; 
 
 Eyes that e'er bore the story of their loving 
 
 Sleep, where the yew and cypress shades are 
 blent ! 
 
 Yet though the bhght of change the chain hath 
 broken — 
 Though the death-shadow on the altar rest ; 
 Still, round the hearth, thy name in fondness 
 spoken. 
 Tells of a home unchanged within the breast. 
 
COME HOME. 209 
 
 Then, wheresoe'er thy listless steps are straying, 
 Where waits thy heart in pleasure's bloomy 
 way ;— 
 
 In song of bird, or stream, or low winds sighing, 
 Hear the sad call that beckons thee away I 
 
210 THE DREAMER'S WEDDING. 
 
 THE DREAMER'S WEDDING. 
 
 DREAMED of thee : upon the shining 
 shore 
 
 Of a green summer isle we strayed ; where evermore 
 Washed the white waves ; — ringing their echoes 
 
 sweet 
 Like silver bells, around our listless feet. 
 On either hand the feathery jungles lay 
 Twining their fragrant arms around the bay : 
 Their dewy sward, bestrown with fairest flowers, 
 Breathing then' sweetness to the waiting hours. 
 Around us rose the Coco's domes of green, 
 Hiding her juicy gifts her leaves between ; 
 And like an Indian maiden decked with gold. 
 The young Banana, gorgeous to behold, 
 
TEE DREAMER'S WEDDING, 211 
 
 Bared her brown bosom to the glowing snn, 
 Stringing her ghttering cones up one by one. 
 Above us, trembling in one shining woof, 
 The linking boughs run out a shadowy roof ; 
 And budding palm, and scented sandel tree, 
 Sent down their sweets, beloved unto thee ; 
 While birds of rarest song sprung up to meet 
 Along the flowery way thy coming feet. 
 There, as we strayed, a quiet Sabbath rest 
 Fell to our hearts. All that once oppressed. 
 Of yearnings deep, that scarred our lives before 
 'Neath other skies, now vexed our souls no more : 
 Ambition's fires — the thirst for gold or fame, 
 Had died away from fevered breast and brain. 
 And memories of wrongs that we had known, — 
 Dealt by near hands that we had held our own, — 
 So that the hurt was deeper ; these were passed, 
 And we had run our sorrows to the last. 
 
212 TEE DREAMER'S WEDDING. 
 
 As thou art fairer than all others, now, 
 Thou wert e'en faker then ; upon thy brow 
 No shade of care I saw. The spirit's calm 
 Had settled o'er it like a pleasant balm. 
 And in the sunlight of thine azure eyes 
 My constant heart read only love's replies. 
 We wandered on not heeding where we went 
 Till, where the trees a heavier shadow lent 
 Along a hollow, — widening to the sea — 
 Engirt with many a glistening bamboo tree ; 
 In a green covert, half hidden o'er with flowers, 
 Arose the bright Pagoda's golden towers ! 
 Upon its snowy steps knelt m i:iy a maid — 
 Young Armenian gu'ls, in white arrayed ; 
 And kneehng priests bent there, muttering prayers, 
 Chaunting low tedeums, hymns, and solemn airs. 
 There as we gazed, thy voice gentle and low 
 Fell like a bell's soft chime, or streamlet's flow j 
 
THE DREAMERS WEDDING 213 
 
 And with a slight embrace upon my hand 
 Whispering, thou said'st, " now these shall join the 
 
 band ; 
 And link us one, so that we never part ; 
 And hnk us one, and link us heart to heart." 
 Then tears of joy came gushing to mine eyes 
 Where smiles were blent — like rainbows in the skies, 
 As underneath the white Pagoda bell 
 I promised true to love thee long and well ; 
 And while my lip the earnest vow confessed, 
 Quick from thine own, a tender kiss was pressed — 
 It was the first — I awoke ! th' dream was past ! 
 And then, beloved, I knew it was the last. 
 
214 DEAD HOSE. 
 
 DEAD ROSE. 
 
 EAD rose I thy blush is with the bloom 
 Of yester-summer, yet I see 
 Still on thy pale lips mute and dumb 
 The trembling tale they told to me — 
 Sweet tale they told to me. 
 
 The heather-bells are bright, to-day 
 
 In the reedy hollows the fox-glove blows, 
 
 And on th' fallows flushed and fair 
 Full many a white cup grows — 
 
 0, many a white cup grows. 
 
 Yet here in th' shade of the sycamore 
 I sit with thee, till my heart asleep 
 
DEAD ROSE. 215 
 
 Hearing the story wakes and mourns ; 
 But I will not let her weep — 
 
 No, I will not let her weep. 
 
 His love is dead, pale rose ; far out 
 
 In the purple Past it drooped and died ; 
 
 And I felt the pain : — Ah me I ah me, — 
 Thus sore to have moaned and sighed, 
 
 Long to have moaned and sighed. 
 
216 LUCT AND I. 
 
 LUCY AND I. 
 
 f^y^7 ER feet were in the sunshine ; and gay 
 ^jJl rings 
 
 Of flecking light swayed trerabUng to and fro 
 On the long grass ; and on her baby hands 
 
 Dropt down the white of many an apple-blow — 
 Dropt down, as from a cloud, the flaky snow. 
 
 Softly the May-born winds crept through the leaves, 
 Lifting the shadows from her yellow hair, 
 
 Tin it was all a-gold ; and she was crowned — 
 Crowned in her infant day, by signs so fair : 
 Queenly in beauty, queenly in voice, and air ! 
 
 She bade me bring her blossoms from the vine : 
 I brought : the branch snarled on my tender hand ; 
 
 And pebbles from the brook : amid the reeds 
 I sought, and from the pearly, shining sand 
 Purple and white I drew — at her command 
 
LUCY AND I. 217 
 
 Within my yearning palm the dark ones held ; 
 And, marking the sweet promises of the tree 
 
 Fall steadily at her feet, with boding heart, 
 Read with still tears the three-fold prophesy 
 The stream, the light, the blooms held out to me, 
 
 'Tis twenty years ago — and Lucy's hand 
 
 Still holds the toy ; nor hath her feet e'er found 
 
 The ways of gloom — dark ways, where Love is lost, 
 And prayers are heard not ; nor, to Death 
 
 strong bound, 
 Trodden with trembhng to the burying-ground. 
 
 Aye, twenty summers gone ! bold augury ! 
 Through all their effluent bloom thy gleam I tra ce, 
 
 And ask the mystic record what it tells. 
 
 Faith saith, God loveth all ; we read His ways 
 Dimly, and veiled — far from his holy place. 
 
ROBERT 
 
ROBERT 
 
 ''^I^^HERE the dark Adiroiidacs far re- 
 
 WL )Ki| moved 
 From the quick sounds of busy Hfe, arise 
 Like undulating billows 'gainst the sky ; 
 Green with the feathery cedar and the pine 
 In summer, white in winter with the easy snows ; 
 There, in the shadow of the tallest summit, 
 Encradled in a hollow from the winds, 
 Rises the grey roofs of a little village. 
 
 Slender and sparse th' houses, perhaps a score 
 And a rude spire wherein is hung a bell ; 
 
222 ROBERT. 
 
 Which ne'er is rung save on grand occasions — 
 
 Weddings, or fun'rals, or on holidays. 
 
 Through th' hazed distance sounds the whirr and 
 
 whistle 
 Of the black horse of iron, puffing his hot breath 
 O'er the green valleys : and along the mountains 
 Echo his tramping feet, on daily errands 
 To th' far city that lies beyond tlie hills. 
 
 Here, long ago, when upon the openings 
 Stood the thick forest, and th' brawny timber 
 Linked its strong arms against the sun and storm ; 
 And in th' nnder-shadows lurked the panther, 
 The prowling wolf, and cunning catamount ; 
 There came from o'er the sea a pilgrim band 
 Who, for the sake of venture and the good 
 That unto all shows brightest when afar, 
 Had left their father-land : where they, not rich, 
 
ROBERT. 223 
 
 And yet not poor, had gained their honest bread 
 From the kind friendly soil. 
 
 But five they were : 
 Robert, the father, a hale and happy man 
 In the midsummer of his lightsome years ; 
 His wife, a matron fair ; and two young lads : 
 Twin-brothers they ; so tall and thrifty grown, 
 They looked two twelve months older than their 
 
 years. 
 Besides, a daughter. Like the matron she — 
 Gentle of speech, and kind in all her ways — 
 They called her 'dove' within the eagle's nest. 
 
 On a bright spring they came. Hewing their way 
 Little by little from the far off road, 
 That wound its slender line of untrod grey 
 Across the burgher clearings. No small store 
 Had the good man supplied, and housed within 
 
224 ROBERT. 
 
 His canopied and ponderous wagons : — 
 Huddled together, closely packed, the tools 
 The farmer knows ; ghttering share and scythe, 
 Harrow and spade, axes and smaller craft 
 For lighter working ; and a long array 
 Of household implements, that th' careful dame 
 Well knew the need ; and had with housewife care 
 Treasured 'gainst future want. 
 
 When the full wains, 
 Labormg and creaking through th' rutty ways 
 For many a weary day, at length arrived 
 To the green valley where the rude old spire 
 Now points its slender finger to the skies, 
 They rested, — as rested Jacob, long ago — 
 And pitched their tents amid the lonely hills. 
 Then o'er the trees on the pure vestal airs, 
 Arose the white cloud of th' first household fire 
 That e'er was builded in this wilderness. 
 
ROBERT. 225 
 
 Here, as the Patriarch on the plains of Harau 
 Bowed himself down, making his earnest vows ; 
 The father knelt him low upon the ground 
 With all his younger ones : and prayed, and sent 
 His tears of full thanksgiving on the sod : 
 On which he asked God's blessing, — that to them 
 It might bring forth abundantly and bless 
 Th' earnest toil their hands might bring upon it. 
 
 Ere yet the young moon rounded to the full, 
 Robert, amid the sturdy pines had felled, — 
 The young lads helping him, — the needful trees 
 Wherewith to build their lodge. Fast fell the strokes 
 On limb and bend, till rounded and complete 
 The timbers lay. And, with few flooring boards 
 His clever foresight banded on the wains, 
 With lime to weld the weather gaping chinks ; 
 A.S Noah builded in the solitude 
 
226 ROBERT. 
 
 Far from the world apart bis mighty ark, 
 So raised the farmer with many a prayer, 
 His little home within the wilderness. 
 
 They, well supphed with corn and pleasant meal, 
 Had naught to fear from want. The untrod wood 
 Teemed with wild game. The timorous deer, 
 The bear, the elk, and sturdy buffalo 
 Thrid through the hazy windings of the trees ; 
 And from the heavy undergrowth below 
 Falling entangled, oftentimes became 
 An easy prey for e'en the younger ones. 
 
 The virgin streams unknown to net or line. 
 Yielded abundant to their frequent snares ; 
 And many a wing, by innocent hopeful breast 
 Plumed for a journey that it never made, 
 Sunk bleeding oft times at the cabin door,-^ 
 Sank down, as fell the quails at Israel's tent. 
 
ROBERT. 227 
 
 As moves the steady wheel in circuits round 
 
 Upon the polished axis, so the years 
 
 One like the other in its thrift and joy, 
 
 Sped round their pleasant cycles. The housewife, 
 
 With gentle mien and speech that seemed to bear 
 
 A healing balsam to the hearts of all, 
 
 Trod patiently about her daily cares ; 
 
 While Robert and the lads toiled at th' clearing : 
 
 Felling the huge trees : dragging into heaps 
 
 With their strong ox teams, bough and lighter brush, 
 
 Till over all the hills went up the cloud 
 
 Of their great fallow fires. 
 
 Soon unto them — 
 Ere yet five summers passed — the farmer saw 
 On the crude land where he had drop^t his tears, 
 The glad fulfillment of his earnest prayer ; 
 White glowed th' wheat-fields ; and ripening in 
 the Sim 
 
228 ROBERT. 
 
 The yellow corn ears lifted up tlieir gifts ; 
 While at his feet, like a bright net-work spread 
 The golden treasures of the lowly vines. 
 
 As the young cedars, comely grew his sons ; 
 With all their father's steady will, and girt 
 Lightly with mothei'^s tenderness of thought ; 
 So that the good man saw within the lads 
 The gratefiU promise of his coming years. 
 The daughter, too, was lovely as the blooms 
 Her fair hands nurtured ; and for her content, 
 Nestling mthin her bosom like a dove, 
 Sweet Innocence made all her inner life 
 E'en as the cheerful sunshine ; and she seemed 
 The radiant centre of the household heart. 
 
 While the fifth summer rested on their heads, 
 Unto the mountains came the man of gold • 
 
ROBERT. 229 
 
 Buying up lands. Large tracts he bought, and oft 
 Mad© the long circuit of the rutty road — 
 Bringing on teams, and men. — Upon the stream 
 That gushed the widest from the rocky height, 
 Builded a mill : wherewith to turn the pines 
 And fragrant cedars into silver and gold : 
 For these he loved. Stern Mammon was his god. 
 And he, to serve him well, as men oft do 
 Turned all things to his unholy service. 
 
 Not one half year had passed, ere down the vale 
 Through the blue silence swept the busy din 
 Of the wide wheels ; tearing with their bright teeth 
 The great wood's heart. While fast the noisy arms 
 Reared like a wall the stately yellow piles 
 To build the city that lies beyond th' hills. 
 
 Thug to the farmer's home the outer world 
 Began to creep ; and the good man at this 
 
230 ROBERT. 
 
 Was glad ; for lie, unused to solitude 
 
 Unto Ills patient wife ofttimes deplored 
 
 The lonely aspect of the mountain skies. 
 
 And, pond'ring too, as thrifty men are apt, 
 
 On what the change might bring in time to them, 
 
 Saw a kind Providence laying out his way ; — 
 
 His lands would be more value : and his grains, 
 
 The surplus of their need could he not sell ? 
 
 And so put little money in his hand 
 
 As every year went round. 
 
 So as he turned 
 The brightness of his future in his mind, 
 And all things counted well ; suddenly came — 
 Like as the thunder booms from cap to cap — 
 The slowly wafted tidings of ill news. 
 
 Par o'er the waters swept the angry roar 
 Of the o-reat Sea Lion : and he had called 
 
ROBERT. 231 
 
 On his youug whelps to sap the Eagle's life. 
 Columbia bound already was the fleet 
 Upon her steady way ; and fiery War 
 Brooded his gloomy pinions o'er the land ! 
 Then cowered the strongest hearts. Yet there was 
 
 one 
 Who blanched not ; but stood boldly forth, and armed 
 With valor for his breast-plate, and his hand 
 Grasping the sword of Right, against the Wrong, 
 Went calmly out to meet them. 
 
 Then his voice 
 Called loudly out for help ; and to each heart 
 Fell e'en a^ falls the voice of one we love : 
 For which to succor death is sweet as life ; 
 And in the balance they seem even weights. 
 
 Long had the bugle sounded. Steady and long 
 Were the dark files of Hvino; lines that went 
 
232 ROBERT. 
 
 Down to the bloody fields ; and never more 
 Turned back their homeward steps. At length one 
 
 day, 
 Unto the valley came the woefiil news, 
 That he to whom all eyes turned as their star 
 Was in sore press. — Needing true hands to hold 
 His wise and well planned purposes.' 
 
 And now, 
 Where the old Hudson wheeled his rocky course, 
 Held the brave hearts their cause ; but shadows 
 
 lowered — 
 Then* numbers were but few ; their strength far spent ; 
 And even the most hopeful seemed to see 
 Th^ rising star of Liberty fading dark. 
 Then fell the Leader's voice to Robert's heart. — 
 " Yes, he would go ! Would not his willing hand 
 Strike its one blow for that great cause of Right, 
 For which a Hampden's honest English heart 
 
ROBERT. 233 
 
 Had chafed its life out in the dungeon cell ! — 
 Yes, he would go I" Ever within his thoughts 
 Burned up the fire th' earnest patriot knows, 
 Until it capped all others. Then as one 
 Who, bearing blossoms to the grave forgets 
 The utterances of woe within his breast ; 
 Unto his wife, strewing his speech with hope, 
 He came teUing his earnest wish : said he, 
 " Is not this land mine own ? and these my lads 
 Growing amid its mountains, unto them 
 When I am gone, shall it not seem the same ? 
 Surely the dust that holds a father's bones 
 Will be most dear. — The wheat I mind to-day 
 Sets for its kernel, — yonder as I trod, 
 Clipt me right strong upon the knee, and gives 
 The cheerful promise of a goodly store. 
 The faithful lads, now almost grown to men, 
 Would they not 'tend to all ? — The easy soil 
 
234 EObERT. 
 
 Needed but light working : all would be well. 
 And who could tell the service he might give ? — . 
 Was not the stream even by the pebble turned I 
 And his one hand might be as David's was 
 In th' far days of old I" 
 
 Then patient Rachel, 
 (Such the good wife's name,) went sadly bowed 
 Gathering and binding up his garments : 
 Mending and making — in many a seam 
 Sewing the tears that spite of prayers would fall ; 
 While trying to hush within her soul th' cries 
 Of her strong wedded love. Full well she knew 
 Her husband's u'on will ; for he was one, 
 Though kind and good to all, yet bearing a mind 
 That like a torrent ever tore its way : 
 And would not brook the bands, though they were 
 
 bound 
 By love's own tender hands. 
 
ROBERT. 235 
 
 Xot many days 
 'Till all was ready. Then the good man gave 
 Order for this and that, — as far-seeing men 
 Are prone to do when leaving for a space 
 Then* steady cares ; as if the good or ill 
 Of their fulfillment would be sure to fall 
 Upon them when they come. — So the veiled mind 
 Gropes wildly through the future, blind, and dark. 
 
 Swift sped the dreaded day ; and when it came, 
 Beside the door stood the strong ox-team, slow 
 Dallying with their horns in easy play, 
 While near them lounged the workmen from the mill ; 
 And the rich owner ; turning in their thoughts 
 The venturous purpose that th' farmer held. 
 
 Then for the first, there did the farmer's sons 
 Blanch at their grief. One asked to go instead, — 
 
236 ROBERT, 
 
 " For sure," said he, '' Mother will die at this !— 
 To see thee never coming at the door." 
 Then spake the father sternly. And again 
 Said " it was God's own service ; and to hurl 
 Back to his face, the Tyrant's wicked blow." 
 But when poor Rachel looked into the eyes 
 That e'er had been the sunlight of her life, 
 She had no voice : but kissed him long, and 
 
 turned 
 Her back upon them all ; and so he went. 
 
 Down through th' wood watched Rachel and her 
 
 daughter 
 The vanishing team : and after many days, 
 Came the one brother back telling the tale, 
 That he had seen him all aboard the craft 
 For the great seaport bound ; and ere that time, 
 His earnest feet had found the far-off camp. 
 
ROBERT. 237 
 
 The summer passed. The winter ; and the spring- 
 Lit up her blossoms on the mountain ways, 
 And yet no tidings. Oft times th' housewife saw, 
 Or seemed to see, amid the changing boughs 
 In the fa>r distance, the returning team 
 His hands so often drove ; and at its side 
 Walk'd Robert, treading slow. Then when the 
 
 Night 
 Lowered her silent darkness on the vale, 
 Her list'ning ear caught often at the sound 
 Of some approaching footstep on the sill. — 
 So wakes the heart, when Love keeps sentinel. 
 
 As sorrows — always wedded, go in pairs ; 
 One autumn to the vale a death-wind came : 
 And at it many sunk down to their beds ; 
 But Rachel's daughter — timid, broken flower, 
 Bowed down her lovely head to rise no more. 
 
238 ROBERT. 
 
 She, gently liug'riug through few tearful days — 
 
 As peaceful in her death as in her life, 
 
 Went uncomplaining unto her last sleep. 
 
 And when they made her grave the rich man 
 
 mourned ; 
 And oft at twilight wandered to the place, 
 Pulhng the weeds from where the lilies grew. 
 And some did say that had she lived, his heai't 
 Had softer grown, like unto other men. 
 
 The mother bore her sorrow well, and kept 
 Her faith in Him who gives and takes away. 
 " He loved my child." — Sometimes in her home talk 
 " And so He took her" — she would say; as if, 
 Catching the reed, to save her ti'om despair. 
 
 When on young Edith's grave the tardy Spring 
 Twice woke the violets ; tapping in the wood 
 
ROBERT. 239 
 
 The sugar-yielding maples, Joseph's hand — 
 (Robert and Joseph were the brothers named) 
 Struck boldly on an adder's cowering head. 
 Whereat the viper maddened and wrothful, 
 Unto the bone, sent on its venomous fangs 
 The fatal quick death-poison. — Ere the sun 
 Once made his circuit past the cabin home, 
 Joseph, his mother's best and faithful sou, 
 Lie dead before her I 
 
 Then did Rachel's soul 
 Feel the hard iron stroke that makes the pulse 
 Shudder till all is numb ! To her all things 
 Seemed but as dead. — Even the God she served 
 Was not in Heaven ; and if he listened still, 
 How could she pray ? Alas ! she could not pray ; 
 But felt her spirit turning 'gainst her God 
 As did the soul of sorrow-stricken Job. 
 Another grave was added to the first : 
 
240 ROBERT. 
 
 And, like the links of a fine woven cliain, 
 When one frets off, the next parts, then the next — 
 Till all the beauty of the meshes fade. — 
 So went their lives. 
 
 The brother lonely left 
 Oft times strolled idly to the tavern near ; 
 Leaving his patient team and bm'ied plough 
 Midway the field ; and the long lines of hedge 
 That Joseph's hand had raised with farmer's care, 
 Fell in wide gaps, thriftless and unrestored : 
 Where tearful Rachel, talking to herself. 
 Strayed with her whitened basket gathering up 
 Against the winter's want, the tiny fruit 
 That hung about the thorny bramble ways. 
 
 Unto what scenes of fortune or mischance 
 Had Robert come ? Fast to the seaward sped 
 The steady downward tide of Hudson's wave, 
 
EGBERT. 241 
 
 Bearing the little craft where he had met 
 The ready welcome that the soldier gires. 
 Soon round the camp-fire did his earnest ear 
 Drink in the tales of war. The deep drum calls 
 That made the midnight morn, — the weariness 
 That made the morn as night, soon from his mind 
 Shut out the thoughts of home. And when he 
 
 stood, 
 In the long battle-hne whose hunted track 
 Bent toward fair Trenton's hills, 0, then he knew 
 Th' exultant joy that thrills the hero's breast. 
 
 But when t' his vision dawned the red-cross flag 
 Like a bright beacon hght upon the hills. 
 True to the hand that set it as a star 
 Within all heai'ts, glowed up the deep home love. — 
 " England ! my home ! — my flag I my flag !" he 
 cried, — 
 
242 BOBERT. 
 
 As swept swift Memory's picture to his gaze— - 
 The homestead grey, the pleasant garden lawns, 
 The places where he wandered when a boy. 
 The church where he was wed : and then he saw 
 His elder brother's hand sweep all away I 
 
 " 0, what is it," he cried, " within me here 
 
 That makes me as a suckling 1 Have not my feet 
 
 Trodden as Ishmael trod the desert ways ? 
 
 Hath not mine empty hand the fountain found ! — 
 
 Here be my altars ! Here my home !" And when 
 
 The bold chief waited on the battle-eve. 
 
 As waited Gideon o'er th' snowy fleece. 
 
 Then from good Robert's eyes the tears were dried ; 
 
 And all his soul was girded with new strength. 
 
 Amid the seething death-shocks, his true hand 
 For many a weary day and sleepless night 
 
ROBERT, 243 
 
 Kept th' stem bond that he had set upon it. 
 And many a gaping hne did his quick feet 
 Wall with a steady front that was not thrown ; 
 As God had bound him in His bundle of Life. 
 
 At length it chanced, — as in the solemn night, 
 He, treading the lone ways the sentry knows : 
 His thoughts like dreamers wandering away 
 Unto his mountain lodge, — that, in the dusk 
 And bushy shadowed covert of the hill. 
 Two forms he spied ; and by th' unsteady light 
 Of the pale stars, lo ! the crimson and gold 
 Of the king's soldiery fell upon his sight ! 
 Already had they well nigh passed the lines ! 
 And, with th' suddenness of a wakened man. 
 Poising his gun — " Who goes ! Who goes !" he 
 
 cried. 
 But with the breath sent out the fatal blow. 
 
244 ROBERT. 
 
 '' Long live the Kiug ! !" shouted the British brave ! 
 
 As staggering to the sod he bore the steel 
 
 A brother's hand had sent into his heart ! 
 
 " That voice ! That voice !" wailed Robert, 
 
 mournfully, 
 As rushmg to the spot, alas I he saw 
 His mother's eyes look upward from the ground ! 
 Down at his side sank Robert, dead as he — 
 As dead ! For what of life is left within 
 The anguished breathings, when the deep keen woe 
 That stills forever the sweet pulse of joy 
 Falls on the helpless life ! Turning the world 
 Into one burial place : where all the airs 
 Breathe evermore of death. 
 
 For many days 
 The good man languished in the solenni place 
 Where sobbing moans rose thick, and pale Disease 
 Like a grim vulture gnawed at every breast ; 
 
ROBERT. 245 
 
 And yet he recked not. Reason had forsook 
 Her wonted sway ; and through his burning brain 
 Ran but the lava stream of fever's fire. 
 
 There as he lay, down by th' shadowy gate, 
 Through the dark portal drifted out to him 
 A gentle whisp'ring calm. — As a soft gale 
 Flower-fraught and balmy from th' near Heaven 
 
 liad swept, 
 Bearing its peace unto his inner life. 
 No longer burned Cain's curse upon his brow ; 
 Nor in his spirit e'er again was lit 
 Th' fire it once had known. G-entle and becalmed 
 From his sick bed he rose, a broken man : 
 Yet bearing in his soul a kindly hope 
 That he had gathered by th' kingdom of Peace. 
 
 While in the coast towns merrily rung the bells 
 Their songs of glad rejoicings ; and the hills 
 
246 ROBERT. 
 
 Blazed with red victory-fires, Robert turned 
 His feet once more toward tlie wilderness. 
 Slowly, with long delays he came. And when, 
 The trees like famed Hesperian branches hung 
 Heavy with death-frosts, bright with reddened 
 
 gold; 
 From the far burgher road, with scanty store 
 Kerchiefed in soldier's guise, he bent his way 
 Fast toward the cabin door. 
 
 Many a word 
 Of fond and kindly cheer his thoughtful hand 
 Had sent unto it ; and from Rachel came 
 Once to the camp, that all was going well. 
 Now, sweetly the quiet of the solitude 
 Crept down upon his thoughts. The very stones 
 Looked up their welcome •, and the dreamy songs 
 Of the tall soughing pines, fell on his ear 
 Like the soft greeting voices of old friends. 
 
ROBERT. 247 
 
 But wlieu he heard the drowsy humming call 
 Of the swift mill, and met the leaping wave 
 Of the bright stream tha,t swept beside her home, 
 He saw no more : but listening to the voice 
 Whose music once more met him on the hills, 
 Lo ! he stood by the door ! 
 
 Over the porch 
 Drifted the heavy creeper from the eaves. 
 And the thrift vines that drooped for Edith's hand, 
 Gnarled on the grass-grown path, bowed with dead 
 
 blooms 
 That e'en the winds had spared from blossoming time. 
 There as the good man stood, nor voice nor sound 
 Breaking upon his yearning ear, he turned, 
 And noted for the first the thymy ferns ; 
 And the tall thistles budding their blue blooms 
 Upon the garden beds. Then sudden and quick, 
 Like as a serpent slipped upon his heel 
 
248 ROBERT. 
 
 He left the spot. Treading toward the mill, 
 As oue who listens to unearthly sounds 
 From which all other souls are bound, he heard 
 God's boding voice from out the silence speak, 
 That Rachel was no more ! 
 
 " I'm come to ask, 
 Of her who lived in yonder cabin there," 
 Said Robert, pale, unto the careless group 
 That idled round th' yellow lumber piles. The men, 
 Gazing at each in asking way, knew not ; 
 Nor could tell aught — save one ; — he knew her son. 
 But knowing th' sorrowed story of the home, 
 And noting the soldier's faded blue, forbore ; 
 Lest he should be the man. — Then, as they spoke. 
 The rich man stood beside him. 
 
 The deep love 
 That even to young Edith's ear was dumb. 
 Wrote there its record on tlie soldier's hands. 
 
ROBERT. 249 
 
 *' Tell me !'^ spake Robert, — marking his falling 
 
 tears, 
 " Tell me ! and tell me all ! — But. well I know, 
 The vengeance of my God has fall'n on me !" 
 Firmly the man of gold turned back his heart ; 
 And locking it with calm and stolid face, 
 Held up the tale of death. 
 
 Of Edith first : 
 Then of the lad that died. Last of Kachel, — 
 Who, what with grief and spirit-loneliness — 
 Counting him dead whom her true heart loved 
 
 most, 
 Grew heedless of herself ; and roamed about 
 Tlie desolate mountain ways, like one astray 
 Within her mind ; talking to senseless things — 
 The streams, the airs, — even as she would brhig 
 Something from Nature's life, to mourn with her. 
 When, on one morn, like as the tide had ebl>ed 
 
250 ROBERT. 
 
 So long, had little left to part ; she passed away, 
 While they who watched thought that she only slept. 
 
 *' His vengeance !" muttered Robert ; as his head 
 Sunk heavily to his breast ; and all his frame 
 Shook like the shivered tree beneath the storm. 
 Nor word nor tear escaped him. The still stroke 
 Fell in upon his heart and broke it. 
 
 Lone, 
 In his desolate cabin, he went down 
 Unto the shadowy vale to which all men 
 Are treading. And when the spring flowers stood 
 Like patient watchers round good Rachel's grave, 
 They bore him there. Then the grey preacher 
 
 said — 
 '' Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord 
 Imputeth not iniquity ; and in whose spirit 
 There is found no guile 1" 
 
ROBERT. 
 
 251 
 
 So ends the simple story of the wood ; 
 A story of Cohimbia's stripe and star, 
 Whose reddened glories drifting on the skies 
 Your eye may note to-day. 
 
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