S / il ' ^■.\v I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! 'id/ ^az. /I 1 UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f 02 '%^%.<1^'^'^<^'^'^'^'%.'%><^<^"%^<%.<%,^S-^<%,'Q) HEART ECHOES. HELEN ArMANVILLE. (NELLIE A. MANN.) If I have ever gently stirred, Your heart-strings with a little word In kindness said, and it has brought One pleasure to your bower of thought ; If I have ever in my song, Scattered the flowers of hope along Your thorny pathway, o'er and o'er, I breathe the words — I ask no more. Be no idler in the field. Be no laggard in the strife. Act, and with your every deed Show how grand a thing is life. 34 HEART ECHOES. What you planned to do to-day, Let the night not find undone ; Show how much your hand can dp From the rise to set of sun. In the vineyard of our King There is always work to do ; Not to throw the days away, Were they given unto you. With a grateful heart accept All the blessings He has sent ; In the shining spring of Peace Lies the jewel of Content, And whate'er may seem a loss, (As we see through sorrow's eyes,) All the griefs we have to bear Are but blessings in disguise. IRREVOCABLE. It was not you that I have loved, But what I thought you Avere; Truth always proves a faithful friend, And in the sepulchre So-called Forgetfulness, I've laid My shattered faith away. Ah, me ! to find my idol was The coarsest kind of clay. HEART ECHOES. And I have in my foolish heart Called you my love, and king ; E'en* most had put my fetters on, Clasped with a marriage ring. Though my good angel stood anear, Had given my trothal vow, — But that is past — not e'en a tear Have I to give you now ! Go, false one, for the world is wide, And drift away, away ! I will not say, " Would I had died Instead of this to-day ! " For I have learned at Wisdom's fount What seemed like gold, was dross ; What seems my gain, I cannot count In no wise as a loss. 35 THE VOICE OF THE WINDS. The wind came up from the east, to-day, And it sang me a tender song Of the home of my childhood, far away, That I left in the years a-long ; Of the lilac-trees, with their purple plumes, And the jasmine over the door, That used to sink, 'neath its many blooms, Low down to the sanded floor. It sang of a chamber, nine by ten. Where the apple-blooms fell in showers, 36 HEART ECHOES. In the sweet, sweet time of the dead past, when Earth seemed but a vale of flowers. Of a dark-eyed girl, with her soul agio' With the deathless fire of song ; Of the dreams I dreamed in the long ago — God pity me, O, how long ! It sang of a school-house, old and brown ; Of a hundred heads bowed low, As the teacher evoked a blessing down On his flock in the years ago. Of a merry group of laughing girls, Who never had known a care Above the hang of their silken curls, Or the braids of their shining hair. It sang of the chestnut's kindly shade, Of the joyous, gleeful shout ; Of the glad halloo ! and the loud din made By the boys, when the school was out. The merry boys of the olden days Are grown into stalwart men, And scattered half a hundred ways Are the girls that I loved so then. Some sit in their pleasant Inglenook E'en now, v/hile the east winds blow ; Stately and fair, but they do not look Like the girls of the long ago. The floating curls have been brushed away From over the thoughtful eyes. HEART ECHOES. 37 And in their meshes perchance a stray- White thr.ead from Time's shuttle lies, Now the winds lull down to a sad refrain, And my heart stands still to hear, For it tells of those who so long have lain Low down with the flowers a-near. Of dear eyes closed in their dreamless sleep, And the white hands clasped for aye, Of our " loved and lost," but we do not weep For the dead alone to-day. There were promises made, but, alas ! not kept ; And eyes that we thought so bright. The tear-stained lids have so often swept, As to rob of their olden light. And the lips which never had known a song But one as glad as a bird's in June, Have blanched 'neath the anguished cry, " How long ! " Their hearts and their hopes all out of tune. But, forgetting all this, I love to think Of them best, as I knew them when There never was e'en one missing link - • That had dropped from Affection's chain. Of the days, when, a joyous-hearted girl, I never had known a care Above the hang of a silken curl, Or the braids of my shining hair. 38 HEART ECHOES. A LOVE IDYL. Fair was the earth, and blue the sky, A field of bloom the purple heather, As, listening to the lullaby Of the south wind, we walked together. Her dainty hand within my own Lay like a captured bird aflutter ; I bent to hear, so low her tone, The words her heart bade her to utter. In answer to my lover's plea. And, to my heart's so truthful story, I looked, her fair, sweet face to see. And it was flooded o'er with glory. The white lids o'er the tender light Within her eyes dropped like a curtain, But not before, with love's delight, I knew my earthly bliss was certain. SOLD. They mock me to madness, these white robes I wear ; I am drunken with anguish, am crazed with despair. On my forehead is branded the awful word, " Sold ! " I faint 'neath my fetters — my fetters of gold. Peace, honor, and all that made life a psalm. These, these I have lost — what a coward I am — HEART ECHOES. 39 Dreading the gaze of his worshiping eyes That look into mine still with love's sweet surprise ; Dreading the gaze of the bright, smiling crowd, And wishing these white robes instead were my shroud. Never had woman so hopeless a task; Can I hide all my woe with a smile-borrowed mask ? Among the swift dancers, he moves like a ghost, He who, God forgive me, my heart loves the most. I dare not, I dare not look into his eyes, When my soul is so stained with these horrible lies. I dare not, I dare not for one moment think Of the cup I have raised to my own lips to drink. He is coming, is coming, this bridegroom of mine ; God ! how the gems in my fetters do shine ! How the jewels that hold this white veil in its place Throw the red fire of shame all the while on my face. How they writhe in my tresses, and torture my brain ; Shall I ever. I wonder, know Peace once again ? 40 HEART ECHOES. PN TIME. The sun will Tise, and from the skies Bright arrows from his quiver Day after day will wing their way O'er valley, mount, and river. Flowers will bloom, their rare perfume Filling the air with sweetness ; Chime after chime, the bells of Time Will ring the year's completeness, Undimmed and bright, the stars of night Will broider all the ether, Till, as a scroll, God's hand shall roll The sea and land together. One after one, till Time is done His golden cycles swinging. The seasons all shall at his call Pass by, another bringing. Not so when we shall reach the sea, Beyond Death's darksome river ; From that blest clime no sweep of Time Shall bear us back forever. And yet — O, strange ! no sign of change Will tell the New Years whither The forms that moved, and lived, and loved, And shared their joys together HEART ECHOES. Have vanished to. Our earth adieu Not long the time will sadden ; New hopes will rise, and other eyes Old Mother Earth will gladden. But in the land so fair and bland, (Only across the river,) We shall find rest, and haply blest Know no more pain forever. 41 GRACE-A-DIEU. I HAVE been deaf, but now I hear — Love has within my breast Told her sweet story, and I am 0, most supremely blest. Such rhapsody did never fall Before on mortal ear ; I have been deaf through all my days, But now, thank God, I hear. I have been blind — so very blind, The hand I could not see, Which has, in constant love and trust, Been outstretched unto me. Such a bright star above the path Where I have walked I find — I see the glory of it now, 1, who so long was blind. 42 HEART ECHOES. I have been dumb, and could not speak, For knowing not Love's lore. Now I have learned it, dearest, and I will be dumb no more. The glory of a hundred springs Seem ever now in view, Since I learned what you are to me, And what I am to you. STEPPING-STONES TO GOD. Its tender leaves some careless hand Had rudely covered o'er; " It must be dead," I said ; '' I shall Behold it now no more." But lo ! when many days had passed A green leaf pierced the sod ; It struggled through, and bravely grew, Still higher toward God. " So like to Christian Faith," I said ; Though trodden in the dust By sorrow's heel, we can but feel The Father still is just. We climb upon the rounds of Prayer. And, where we shrinking trod. We now know was through Nature's laws, But stepping-stones to God. HEART ECHOES. 43 THOUGHTS AT NIGHT. Slowly now the clouds of amber O'er the blue hills roll away, As the feet of Night-tmie clamber Higher up the stairs of Day. While I'm sitting, so uncertain What the morn will bring to me, She has hung her dusky curtain O'er the valley, moor, and lea. High above the fields of vapor, Like a glowing beacon-fire Venus lights her nightly taper ; Than the fleecy clouds yet higher, Jupiter is proudly sitting On his skyey, golden throne. Where the myriad stars are flitting Round about the kingly one. White ships see I on the ocean; Shored about with green-capped hills. Sailing out in wild commotion, As the wind their canvas fills. While afar upon the mountain Walks the Spirit of the Dew, With her jeweled fingers counting The bright beads that slip them through. Gazing on the stars that twinkle High y/ithin the zenith's nave. 44 HEART ECHOES. I can almost hear the tmkle Of their footsteps on the pave Leading to the streets immortal, Stretching, O, so far away, Into which, through some star-portal, I perchance shall walk some day. When Death's night comes, and its tidal Wave is sweeping over me, When these busy hands are idle, And this pulse shall silent be — May some bright-eyed angel-warden Back the shining gate-way roll, 'Till I step across the Jordan Of an earth-o'erwearied soul. I would have the stars all beaming Just as brightly as to-night, When I waken from life's dreaming. In the land of peace and light, I would have the summer glory Just as bright o'er mount and lea. When Death shall his pleasing story Lowly whisper unto me. Nay, my friend, not in the garish Light of any earthly day. But when those I love and cherish Stand beside me, I can say, Lo, the stars are all at vesper ; While their bright lamps are agio* Angel voices to me whisper, Noiv it is that I would go ! HEART ECHOES. 45 'NEATH THE BAN OF THE YEARS. That this world is a world of sorrow I have heard, aye, time and again, Why can we not look on the morrow Through sunshine as well as through rain ? Admitting 'tis so in all seeming — That the false are allied to the true. Shall we spend all our moments in dreaming, As though we had nothing to do ! Admitting it is full of losses — Of sorrow, of grief, and of care — Still the bright thread of Hope often crosses The sombre-hued one of Despair. And the world, after all, is as kindly As ever an earth-friend can be ; 'Tis but to the ones who walk blindly — Who are too impatient to see The light as it slowly is dawning ; Who wake in the depths of the night, And cry, like a^child, for the morning To come in its garment of light — These only, I say, with compassion For all of their folly and sin, A pathway of briers do fashion. And blindly do wander therein. 46 HEART ECHOES. As the day comes the dreary night after, As Happiness walks close to Care, So comes to us moments of laughter To vanquish the ghost of Despair, And Happiness is for the choosing, Joy somewhere on earth we may find ; The ones, who, continually losing, Are always the ones who are blind. Let us banish the doubts that oppress us ; Let us sorrow no longer in tears ; There is much still to comfort and bless us, As we walk 'neath the ban of the years. SUNSET ON LAKE COMO. Behind the hills the sun had set, Tho' much of beauty lingered yet ; The western sky was still aflush With sunset's half unconscious blush : Crimson and purple, fold on fold Of ambient tints and burnished gold, Reflected in the Lake below. Made all its crystal waters glow, Until they seemed a heaving mass Of jewels in a sea of glass. The winds in restful slumber lay ; The cricket chirped not far away ; HE A RT E CHOE S. 47 The bul-bul sat with folded wing High in the larch, and would not sing ; And ah ! methinks that beauteous night, The glory of the Infinite Shone out of heaven to show me How fair that other country be. Methought I saw bright angels, shod With sapphire, going up to God. I saw their brows of shining light, And heard their harping ; ah, that night I seemed a brief half hour to be Anear that glorious, bright city. Whose shining streets, so grandly fair, Lie in the fields of upper air. Her dusky curtain ere the night Had hung upon the wall of light. My soul was drunken with the bliss Half of that world, and half of this, And, kneeling there, in prayer, I said, *' Not night, it is the dawn instead ! The dawn of glory that exceeds By far my most expectant needs." 48 HEART ECHOES. ALL THAT IS LEFT. A DASH of rain on the window-pane, The sob of the solemn sea, And the beautiful Past — too fair to last, Comes back like a ghost to me. With a weird-like tramp through the Day's white camp. It comes to my heart and knocks. And the Key of Thought, by Remembrance wrought, Its wondrous door unlocks. O the hopes that are gone — that have drifted on, And over the sea of Fate ! O the joys gone by with that desolate cry, The saddest of all—" Too late." On the shore of the Lost, wrecks ruthlessly tossed. Is all that is left to me, Of the dreams that I dreamed, and the star that gleamed Once out of the sweet " To be." THE SHOES THAT NELLIE WORE. I HELD them in my clasp to- day, With many a tearful sigh. Those dear mementoes laid away Of happier days gone by. ^ HEART ECHOES. 49 O oftentimes these little shoes Have pattered on my floor ; But ah ! my Nellie's feet have use For them now nevermore ! And so they've empty lain, while Time Has numbered summers seven ; She had no need of them to climb The sunny slopes to Heaven, For, when Death with a ruthless hand, For pillage sought our bower. An angel from the Better Land Gathered the beauteous flower. Upon his loving breast he laid Our little dainty blossom. And she, I know, was not afraid To nestle in his bosom. For, while his wings the miles of space Did cleave in upward flight, The smile that lay upon her face, Mirrored her soul's delight. little empty shoes, although Our Nellie's precious feet Shall never come and never go ■ Adown the village street — When school is out, and home again My little ones do come, 1 say, " O heart ! shouldst thou complain ? She is 'Cn^ first one Home ! " 3 50 HEART ECHOES. But, when at night my darlings kneel Beside my knee in prayer, How can my mother- heart but feel That Nellie should be there. And when I count each shining head, One, two, three, four, and five, I say, " There had been six instead. If Nellie were alive ! " And when I put the five small pairs Of shoes all in a row. When each dear lip has framed its prayers, I tearfully -will go To her closed drawer, and turn the key, To see in the same place. The little shoes that speak to me Of a long absent face. O, little empty shoes half worn, Just as they slipped her feet ; She will not need them night or morn, To walk the golden street. For sandaled with the purest pearl, And soled with chrysolite. By Jesus' side, our little girl That died is safe to-night. HEAR T ECHOES. ij j DO YOUR BEST. What though oft you're faint and weary, 'Neath the burden that you bear, And life, dark, and sad, and dreary, Seems a desert everywhere. If the days when Joy'attended, Are to you forever o'er, God has surely you befriended ; — Do your best. He asks no more. Somewhere is the suri yet shining, O so bright, and still for you ; Somewhere 'mid the cloud's dark lining Golden sunbeams struggle through. Never yet had human sorrow Power to close for aye Hope's door ; With a brave heart for the morrow, Do your best, God asks no more. Do not spend days He has given In bewailing fancied loss, Ere the a-oimi be won for Heaven^ You viust hiwibly bear the cross. Even though dear ones without you To the Leal-land go before, God's strong arm is still about you, Do your best. He asks no more. Though the world your course may censure, Still your onward path pursue : 5 2 HE A R T ECHOES. He who never dares to venture In life's work can nothing do. Even though the Past can never Your lost dreams of bliss restore, Make at least the grand endeavor To do right, God asks no more. THE RETURN. Out from the city's noisy din My footsteps have been led, And I to-day am walking in The paths I used to tread. I hear the rain of Autumn beat Upon the old roof-tree. As did it in the dead days, sweet As but dead days can be. But O, so changed the olden home ; Across the dear old floor The feet will never go and come : That came to me of yore. I list for voices soft and low As coo of Summer birds, But well, alas ! too well I know That they are done with words. HEART ECHOES. I only hear amid the eaves The swallow's plaintive call ; A lonely robin sits and grieves Beside me — that is all. Adown the grass-grown walk I go, With slow and solemn tread, With tearful eyes, and head bent low, As following the dead. In grave procession on before My boyhood's hopes I see, And, leading to the old home door, They there depart from me. For lo ! there is no voice or sound To cheer the wanderer's heart ; Grave silence reigns, and so profound. My tears unbidden start. Mother is dead — that I have heard ; Will sleeps in Italy. It must be long years since a word They can have heard from me. And in that time O God ! but War Has walked with direful tread Throughout the land ! My brothers — are They with the army dead .'' 53 54 HEART ECHOES. Upon the well-worn sill I stand, And, faster than of yore, My heart beats as with trembling hand I open wide the door. A man whose locks are white as snow Looks up with eyes askance ; Ah, brother Tom ! do I not know You at the first swift glance ? And there we stood, I bronzed and gray, And Tom— he could not speak, But in the same old loving way, He bent and kissed my cheek. Kneeling with his dark eyes upraised. And full of joyful tears. He cried, " O Jasper, God be praised ! After so many years ! " Then hand in hand we sat us down, And on the rnoments flew ; The night looked in with sombre frown, And there we sat — we two. Sitting within the shadows there. How could I question him .? Once I half whispered, " O Tom — where,"- With tears my eyes abrim. HEART ECHOES. 55 He left me for a moment then, And with a trembling hand Gave me a package — " They were men ! " Said I, " I understand ! " O me ! it needed not the stain Of crimson to tell me That James was 'mong the army slain, " But Charley — where is he ? " " His was by far a sadder fate," My brother Tom then said. " Ah ! his reprieve it came too late ! One of the Libbey dead We say of him ! " O God," I said, " How fares it v/ith the other ? " Tom laid his hand upon my head. Saying — " Have courage, brother, To hear the rest. Our John, you know, A hero ever was. And O, it was a gallant blow He struck in the good cause. He did not deem the sacrifice Too great, believe me, brother. His good right arm did not suffice To ever strike another. 56 HEART ECHOES. He fell at x^nlietam, where So many eyes grew dim." " And father," said I, " do not spare My heart — and what of him ? " " Ah, Jasper, is there need to tell ? He bore a martyr's part. And bore it bravely, but — ah well ! At last it broke his heart." The stars came out and solemnly The lattice pane looked through, And found us sitting — Tom and I, For aye alone — we two. GRANDMOTHER VANE. Grandmother Vane in the firelight is sitting, But her thoughts are away in the beautiful past. Visions of gladness before her are flitting. Visions by Memory's firelight o'ercast. Ah ! it's many a day since I've seen her so smiling, Beautiful pictures indeed she must see ; Thoughts that her heart from the Now is beguiling, And in fancy, again she is Isabel Lee. Dropped from her knitting her white hands are idle, Backward, far backward, Thought's footsteps are led; Again she is plaiting her hair for her bridal, Just as he loved it, — white roses instead HEART ECHOES. 57 Of rich orange blossoms she twines in its meshes, For her dress it is simple, her kirtle is plain ; Glad tears for the moment bejewel the lashes That droop o'er the blue eyes of Grandmother Vane. A tremulous " I will ! " by the inglenook spoken, A promise to honor, to love, and obey ; By deed or by thought has never been broken 5^116 vows that she plighted that blossoming May. Down through the years where love's sun shone in splendor. Hand clasping his, she is vralking again, (Ne'er was a lover more loyal and tender Than he who is waiting for Grandmother Vane). Then love's tree at her feet dropped a beautiful blos- som. And again, and again, until sunny heads seven, One after another, were laid on her bosom, — (Three budded on earth but to blossom in Heaven.) Now into the eyes of the pale watcher v/aiting, Cometh the mist from the river of Pain, Tears which the full tide of joy was belating. Drop from the dear eyes of Grandmother Vane. Three boys of the flock grew to manhood's estate, John, William, and Joseph, and noble men, too. Then " the flower of the valley," their sunny-eyed Kate, The doorway of womanhood softly passed through. 58 HEART ECHOES. Eyes like the violets down in the ledges, Spirit so lovely, to know her was gain ; Heart like the song of wild birds in the hedges, . Such was the daughter of Grandmother Vane. Alas, and alas ! for the hope-promise given Of a long life before her ; with daisies o'ergrown Is her bed in the valley. " Kate, aged twenty-seven," Sums it all up on the moss-covered stone. Often, and often, that grave has been watered With drops that were never the dew, nor yet rain . Year after year bright flowers have been scattered There by the dear hands of Grandmother Vane. And there close beside her is Grandfather sleeping, He, who has gone to Beulah before. Here, in the firelight, her watch she is keeping Till her hand clasps the hand of her darling once more. But her feet down the valley can take her no longer, She feels so a-weary, but ne'er will complain, And she says, " I shall be in the Spring-time much stronger," Ah, the Spring that is coming to Grandmother Vane. She looks on the forms of her children about her. And says, " All his boys are so manly and strong." But Grandmother Vane — we must soon do without her, We shall miss the dear light of her presence ere long. HEART ECHOES. 59 Yes, yes, in the Spring-time I know she'll be stronger, 'Tis a Spring that shall rob her of every pain, But we hail not its coming, for with us no longer Will sit in the firelight dear Grandmother Vane. BABY'S DRAWER. Inscribed to my dear and only sister, Mrs. Louise Wither. I WONDER if she'll have a name In that blest country far away, — The little blue-eyed one, who came To us, and went away to-day ? If so, I hope the angels will Give her as sweet a one as we To her had given had she lived ! I wonder what her name will be ? ' Day after day my hands upon The dainty robes of white had wrought, And O, how sweet the little one Will look when thus arrayed ;. I thought ! One after one, was frock and band Completed, and laid out of sight. I would not let a careless hand Work on the folds of .spotless white. But wrought in quaint embroidery, The fairest flowers I could find ; — And O, they were a sight to see, Within the upper drawer enshrined. ■# 5o HEART ECHOES. That one was " baby's drawer," you see. " My baby's drawer ! " I oft would say, As lovingly I turned the key — Ah, well, the baby came to day ! How pretty she did look, O me ! Robed in her dainty dress of white, I had not thought that I should see Her so arrayed ere came the night ! Her little hands upon her breast. Tied with a ribbon white as snow ; It was not thus I would have dressed My little baby girl, I know. I oft will wonder as I sit, My empty hands so mutely crossed, If after all my sweet hopes, it /f. better to have loved and lost. If it is better that her feet Should learn to walk in Heaven instead 1 I know no thorns bestrew the street Wherein my little girl shall tread. But O, to find my dreams of bliss Have after all but come to naught ! That days and weeks, it was for iJiis^ My hopeful hand so tireless wrought. Aye, you may turn the shining key. Hiding from sight each dainty dress ; Death's hand has turned the key 'tween me And sweetest dreams of happiness. HEART ECHOES, 6l PULL YOUR OWN WEEDS. If you've weeds in your garden, my dear friend, I pray, Do not stand looking over the fence, To your neighbor's domains — ^just over the way — Your own are the most consequence. Uproot them while yet there is daylight to work, Tear them up, root and branch, from your soil ; They are sure to do mischief, so I pray do not shirk ; You'll be amply repaid for your toil. The advice would apply to the Garden of Life, 'Tis so seldom we see our own weeds — For watching a neighbor, or, worse yet, his wife, And counting their many misdeeds. We pass our own follies, our faults we disguise In the garments of selfish conceit. We're ever perfection, (in our own eyes,) • But O I for the sinners we meet I Let us pull our ow7i weeds, and work with a will While yet there is one to be found. Nor point o'er the way in derision until We have carefully tilled our own ground. For, watching the faults of others we see Not the ones in our own hearts so rife ; Let us pull for ourselves — let other's weeds be, Till we clean our own Garden of Life. 52 HEAR T ECHOES. RE-UNITED. Where the maple's dusky shadows Fringe the hill-side's emerald breast, In the nook the sweet-voiced warblers Love in Summer-time the best, Deep within the voiceless chamber Which the grave had opened wide, Laid we her, who on the morrow Had been Egbert Welmer's bride. When the last sad rites were over, And all else had turned away. He, whose heart her troth was keeping, In the silence knelt to pray. With the sunlight on his forehead. Drifting through the leaves o'erhead, Egbert Welmer in his sorrow Lingered by his sainted dead. Twilight deepened on the mountains. One by one the stars came forth, While the great light, Ursa Major, Swung his dipper in the north. And the damp dews swift descended On his white, uplifted brow. Starring o'er the while the blossoms On the green-sward just below. HEART ECHOES. ()i^ Thus they found him in the morning, When the solemn night had flown ; But his heart was past all sorrow, And his lips v/ere past all moan. He had joined her on the mountain Of Eternal Life afar ! Going out with footsteps silent As the footsteps of a star. MY PICTURE GALLERY. Such beautiful, beautiful pictures, Surpassing those of art, I keep in the sunny chambers Of the palace of my heart. Some are of smiling faces. Some are of pastures green, — Well loved and remembered places, And face: that I have seen. And so in Summer or Winter I am never quite alone. For here whatever the weather, I have a world of my own. All over the precious chambers. Having its own sweet way. The vine of Memory clambers, Blossoming night and day. 64 HEART ECHOES. I love to look at these pictures Surpassing those of art, As they hang in the sunny chambers Of the palace of my heart. Pictures of smiling faces, Pictures of pastures green, Well loved and remembered places, And faces that I have seen. THE LAND OF THE EAST. We are journeying on to partake of the feast Which a Father's hand has spread, For we go from here to the Land of the East, When the world shall call us " dead." Our footsteps tend toward the rising sun. Which never a cloud doth mar ; And Christ shall place, when the race is done. On our brow the morning star. We shall lave our feet in the placid tide, And our pain will be washed away, For pain or care doth never abide In the realm of His perfect day. What though our suffering hearts beat here 'Neath the thrall of affliction's tears; There, never a care, nor never a fear Shall be ours in the blessed years. HEART ECHOES. 65 Our hearts are athirst for the wine of bliss, We long to partake of the feast That is spread for the sorrowing hearts of this Sad land, in the Land of the East. MY CASKET OF PEARLS. An angel came down in the beautiful night, Came down through the gateway of gold ; His wings through the darkness plowed furrows of light, And never a moment he paused in his flight Till he neared our low cot. With a mother's delight I had counted my treasures. All told There were three priceless gems in my casket of love Three jewels my Father had given. There was Maggie, and Winnie, my gentle-eyed dove, And a sweet little seraph sent me from above ; Of one Christ had said in His infinite love, " Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven ! " The angel of light sang a beautiful song. And the room where my jewels all lay As I fancied secure in love's casket so strong, Seemed peopled the while with an angelic throng. As though shining white feet passed its portals along And 'twas bright as the sun at noon-day. 66 HEAR T E CIIOES. A short hour he tarried, this angel of light, But an hour did he tarry with me. Then he soared far away in the shadowy night, But not till I counted his jewels so bright : One more had been added. His song of delight It surely no sorrow portended to me ! I bent o'er the sleepers — my sad heart the while Filled with fear undefined for my casket of pearls, My Maggie, dear pet, in her innocent guile. The angel had lured with his wondrous smile — Had gone to that land that lies mile upon mile In the country beyond, my sweetest of girls. Again did the angel of light make his way To the room where my treasures lay closely en- shrined ; 'Twas a beauteous night in the sweet month of May, When he looked in upon where my two jewels lay ; A moment of dread, then his step died away, In the casket I only one jewel could find. Once again — only once — did the bright angel say " Come ! " Ah me, then my casket was empty and bare ! In his pity for them he had taken away Every one to be set in Eternity's Day. They are Thine, O my Saviour, thrice blessed alway Are the priceless heart-jewels I gave to Thy care. HEART ECHOES. A TE DEUM TO GOD. 67 With noiseless fingers now the dark-eyed Night Has donned her robe with gleaming gems bedight, And placed her jeweled crown Upon her dusky tresses, while With feet that tread o'er many a mile - Of emerald turf, she walks adown The quaint old aisles of Earth, where southern winds have trod, All day the while they sang a Te Deum to God. Over the forest arches, pulsing to the tune Of fleet-winged zephyrs, the red moon Hangs like a burnished shield ; And, where yon white clouds wing their flight Through the still corridors of night. From our sight half concealed, Sits Ceres, her brilliant robes of light already on, In which she meets the bright-eyed visitant, the Dawn. Lapsed into blissful rest, I dream*, until I hear the whistle of the Whippoorwill Afar off in the wood, While now and then the owl's " Too Whoo," Awakes the slumberous echoes through The leafy solitude. And Orion, from the boundaries of space, Looks down again on me with bright and smiling face. 68 HEART ECHOES. VOICES IN MY HEART. At times when all the world is still, Strange guests my warm heart-chambers fill ; Sweet faces, peering through the mist, Raise up their white brows to be kissed ; While unseen fingers touch the keys Of old and pleasant rnemories ; And in the dusk I seem to hear Such tones as ne'er on mortal ear Did fall before. I seem to see White, spectral hands held out to me ; I see, or seem to see, bright eyes O'erflooded with a glad surprise, While voices, tender as the coo Of birds, sing all the twilight through. My heart is like a deep-toned bell ; An anthem now, and now a knell, The ringer Thought awakes therein. The echoes thrill me with a pain. Too exquisite for human speech Unto the world to ever reach. Dost wonder, then, when twilight lays Upon the earth her purple haze, I turn from smiles of human ken. To clasp the hand of Thought again ? And, chide me not, if I have seemed Too oftentimes as one who dreamed. O chide me not, you cannot know What were my dreams in long ago. HEART ECHOES. You, who no heart do have to make The dead past dear for Memory's sake, Leave me to walk this little way Unfettered by the cares of day ; Leave me from all the world apart. To hear the voices in my heart. 69 WHEN THE SUN SHALL CROSS THE LINE. When the sun shall cross the line ; So I say with breath ahush, As I listen to the song Of the little brown-winged thrush. • I have sorrowed long, but now I no longer can repine. For he's coming — coming heart, When the sun shall cross the line. Years agone he left me here. With his kisses on my lips ; Now Joy's sun shines bright again — Passed from out that drear eclipse By that message signed by him With that precious " Ever thine," — Just above it " Look for me, When the sun shall cross the line." Never did the sunlight seem Half so bright to me before, As, with longing eyes I stand, Waiting, love, upon the shore, 76 HEART ECHOES. With these sweet words on my lips, Words that faith has made divine, " I am coming, look for me When the sun shall cross the line.* BABY IS DEAD. See the sweet flowers her bosom adorning, — Soft be your tread ; In the calm hush of this beautiful morning Baby is dead. Only last night she was blithesome and merry,, Gay as a lark ; You said " O how fair," and I answered you " Very, Very ; " O hark ! List ! while your lip to her own fondly presses. Never a breath Cometh to cheer us ; — all our caresses Give we to Death. Blue as the violets down in the meadow. Friend, were her eyes ; Now, O my God ! what a wonderful shadow Over them lies. Night ! had ye only have given me warning, Only have said — I^ips, ye shall sob in the hush of the morning, Baby is dead. HEART ECHOES. O but to find her so close to my bosom, Pallid, and stark, The hand of Death to have stolen my blossom Here in the dark ! None but a mother can measure my sorrow ; Soft be your tread. Cometh no bird-song for me on the morrow, Baby is dead ! 71 THOUGHTS. SUGGESTED ON READING JOHN HAY'S " THE ADVANCE GUARD," BEGINNING : " In the dream of the northern poets the brave who in battle die Fight on in shadowy phalanx in the field of upper sky, And as we read the sounding rhyme the reverent fancy hears The ghastly ring of the viewless swords, and the clash of spectral spears." 'Tis a weird and a ghostly fancy, and it lacks the power to please ; Not even a poet can unveil God's solemn mysteries ; But I love to think of those heroes brave — that our noble army-slain, With death laid down the bloody sword to take it up never again. Never in dreams of those soldiers true my reverent fancy hears " The ghastly ring of the viewless swords, and the clash of spectral spears." 72 HEART ECHOES. Never, O nevermore I think of those gallant, gallant souls. Where on the air the reveille in its solemn cadence rolls. That they strive for Truth and Right as here, most freely will I grant, But not on an enemy's fortress top the old flag they would plant. For 'mid the splendor that prevails in those fields of upper air. They are as brothers every one, — 7io enemy is there. Was it not time for rest and sleep when the pulse for- got its tune, And the soldier-heart no longer beat to the old field- martial rune ? When the eye grew blind to earthly sights, and the ear grew deaf to call. And the wing of Azrael lay upon their senses like a pall ? First of the noble martyr- slain, Ellsworth ! O, brave and true. Over the trackless miles of space our thoughts go out to you ! And Putman, and Shaw, of the hero souls, and Ulric Dahlgren brave ; Ah ! the flowers of Memory we have strewn to the brim of each hallowed grave. HEART ECHOES. 73 But with my heart it is a feast of pure delight to-day That little it matters in heaven who wore the blue or who wore the gray ; That, free from war and its direful ills, out into the better life They carried none of the feud they held, and none of the deadly strife. ******* 'Tis a ghostly fancy at the best, and it lacks the power to please ; Whatever their hands find now to do is one of God's mysteries ; But never and never my soul can think that the beau- tiful Land of Leal Has seen the flash of a bloody hand, or the gleam of the murderous steel. BEYOND THE STARS. Beyond the stars, beyond the stars ! What flowery fields are spread Beyond the blue and golden bars That arch the dome o'erhead ! What sylvan grots where we may rest From all life's vexing cares ! O, I, methinks, would be so blest To climb the unseen stairs ! 4 74 HEART ECHOES. I long to tread the pearly shore Where mortal ne'er has trod, That I may know a pain no more, And dwell for aye with God. I stretch my hands in mute despair ; No angel stoops to save. But Hope so gently whispers, " There Is rest beyond the grave." And so the grass is growing green Above the little spot Where, underneath its tasseled sheen, I'll sleep, and be forgot. But if Death's hand will lead me there, Where I so long to go, This heart will never more despair, Heaven lies beyond^ I know. IN THE TWILIGHT. The twilight hour is here again, O friend, beloved and true ! The time that always brings me sweet And tender thoughts of you ! It is the hour you like to touch The quick responding keys, And for the little while commune With olden memories. HEART ECHOES. 75 I seem to see you in the dusk, Your head in sorrow bent ; While tears fall fast upon the white Keys of the instrument. And while the tide of memory sweeps Across life's prayerful sea, I know you never fail to think The little while of me. And O, the thought somehow awakes The birds of hope to song, That your dear feet will walk beside Mine own again ere long ! O, dear frier.d, in this hour so blest. Our souls no fate can part ; There is no spell these blissful dreams Can banish from my heart ! I almost see your love-lit face, Your eyes of pansy blue, Such tender and such blessed thoughts The twilight brings of you. OCTOBER. The harvest moon is growing pale ; The grasses withered are and sere ; Farewell, September, and all hail ! Thou fairest month of all the year ! ^6 HEART ECHOES. Away in the secluded glen, The owl sends forth his quaint " Too whoo, And far remote from haunts of men, The partridge beats his loud tattoo. The song of birds we do not hear So often in the glen ; Save now and then the notes so clear, Of some belated wren ; And save the piping of the jay, Up in some gnarled oak tree, There is no glad sound heard to-day, Of song-birds' minstrelsy. The brown nuts fall upon the ground, With patter soft and low ; Gay banners hang the trees around, The mount, and vale below. Over the dead leaves of the birch, The rabbit swings with agile bound ; The squirrel from his leafy perch Looks askantly around. As though in wonder why the air Had grov/n so strangely chill, And why such colors flaunted where The green did on the hill. HEART ECHOES. 77 Each flower into its tiny cell So timidly has crept, Scarce leaving e'en one trace to tell Where the Frost King has stept. A golden glow hangs over all, Making above compare The gorgeous m.antle which the Fall Does so delight to wear. EACH DAY WILL ITS LABOR- BRING. Idler in the field of Life, Is there nothing you can do ? When Sin cuts such mighty swaths. Is there no work left for you ? Up, I pray, and act your part Bravely on life's busy stage, That your record, when 'tis done, Bear no blot on any page. Act, so when the curtain falls. And the last, last play is done, A whole world may you applaud : Saying, here, indeed, was one Who has wrought his share of good ; Here was one who, working, fell ! Act so that the angels e'en Can proclaim, " He has done well." 78 HEART ECHOES. There is always work to do — Life's race is so short at best, That 'tis little time we have To pay court to ease and rest. Each day will its labor bring ; From the rise to set of sun, Though you're toiling, much will yet In the end be left undone. Here and there we see them fall, Soldiers noble, brave and true ; Be their labor incomplete. There is still more work for you. Only do the best you can, Thai is all God asks of you. To your conscience, as to man, Always proving just and true. WORLD-WEARY. I AM weary of the world, of its folly and deceit, I am weary of the praise that its flatterers repeat. I am weary of the smiles, hiding so much pain within, On the many, many faces in the cavalcade of sin ; Of the serpent Calumny, which its hydra-head up- rears. Trailing wide its deadly venom, trampling down the golden years. HEART ECHOES. 79 I am weary of the homage rendered unto sordid Pelf, Of the better hopes forever laid upon Time's dusty shelf. I am, O so weary, thinking of the hours that we have lost ; Of the precious, precious moments we've into Obliv- ion tossed, That I often think the kindest boOn accorded to our lot. Is the sleep where we, not only, but our follies are forgot. I HAVE DREAMED. I HAVE dreamed in my dreams of the city so blest. Where the heart drinks its fill from the Fountain of Rest ; Where the walls are of jasper, and the gates do re- flect The unclouded faces of God's own elect. I have journeyed afar through their portals, and, lo ! I have revelled in joys of the dear long ago ; For there did my arms in their longing enfold The friends of my youth — in the City of Gold. In my untroubled dreams of this land of the blest, My soul has been drunken with infinite rest. 8o HEART ECHOES. No music has been to my ear half so sweet As the echoes I heard from the fall of the feet Of the ones who, grown weary long summers ago, Crossed the tide whose dark waves in their mystical flow Bore them out to the Shepherd who guardeth his fold In the beautiful city — the City of Gold. I have dreamed, and my dreaming to me was so real That their kisses so warm on my lips I could feel. I have said, " Fare thee well, O moments of dearth, Ye only belong to the dwellers of earth !" I have seen sweeter visions than pen can portray. In the land where my lost ones are dwelling to-day ; But the half of the glory can never be told, Of the beautiful city — the City of Gold. Only then will the joy of our hearts be complete. On the day when we, too, reach its beautiful street ; When the fetters are broken that bind us to earth. And we taste of the bliss of our heavenly birth. Then, then we no longer shall hunger and thirst, " For the first shall be last, and the last shall be first ;" Where friendship is true, and love never grows cold, In the beautiful city — the City of Gold. HEART ECHOES. 8 1 SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. The day that oped so fair to me, This hour has passed away ; And hopes that lured me in the morn, I question, where are they ? Tell me, O Night, where have they flown ? I reap no harvest, though long since My golden seed was sown. I see the reapers hurry by O'erladen with their store ; They sing the joyous harvest-song Which I shall sing no more. My wain is empty, shall I sing. When all the hopes that lured my heart Are buried with the Spring .? The frosts of sorrov/ heavy press Their weight upon my brow. As in the dark and solemn night My weary head I bow. Saying, " It still is written plain. The seed of Truth my hand has sown Will yet bear golden grain." When my tired hands have ceased their toil, And I, o'erwearied, sleep ; When all of life seems buried there Within the silence deep, 82 HEART ECHOES. Then will my hour of triumph be ; What you will call the sleep of death. Is harvest-time to me. SONG Come, for my heart is calling, Come to our bower to-night ; Come when the dew is falling. Come when the stars are bright. Come when the moon is gleaming Clearly athwart the blue ; Come when the birds are dreaming, Come, if thy heart is true. Come, I am sad and lonely. Waiting for thee so long ; Come to our bower, if only To list to one little song. Come when the moon is beaming Clearly athwart the blue ; Come when the birds are dreaming, Come, if thy heart is true. IN WINTER. Out on the moorlands the north wind is blowing ; Over the ridges arid valleys below The sovereign. Winter, is recklessly throwing Bright jewels of frost from his kirtle of snow. HEART ECHOES. 83 White are the locks of the sturdy new comer ; His eyes with the north wind are misty and bleared ; Where a few weeks agone reigned the beautiful Summer, He walks with the frost-gems agleam in his beard. I remember so well how the x^utumn-time flushed When she heard the low tread of his feet from afar ; Her hymn of rejoicing was long ago hushed ; Her song-birds — I know not wherever they are. From the land of the Esquimaux far to the nor 'ward, Where the sunbeams no warmth on the tall gla- ciers throw, Sent he his sturdy frost-heralders forward, Far in advance of his column of snow. While the midnight her masses so solemn was holding. They fettered each brook that their footsteps crossed o'er, 'Til a mantle of crystal the while was enfolding, With jewels pinned close to the grassy-fringed shore. Such strange, quaint devices we found in the morning Ere the sun set his feet on the stairs of the sky ; Such fanciful pictures our windows adorning — Such beautiful landscapes to gladden the eye ! 84 IJEA RT E CHOE S. The door of the morn, on bright golden hinges, Swings open, and through its wide portal we see The net-work of frost that exquisitely fringes The verdure that grew on the upland and lea. The evenings grow longer for song and for story ; Behind is the Autumn, before us the May; Before us the Spring-time, her garments of glory Shall trail o'er the grasses now hidden away. NOTHING BUT LEAVES. Nothing but leaves ; no fruit, no grain, Ungarnered sheaves, and an empty wain. Nothing but this for a heart athirst ; No lips to kiss — life's lees drink first. Nothing but leaves, and husks, and tares, O, the spirit grieves for its many cares ! Nothing but this. If you dreamed of more, That dream of bliss, O, my heart, is o'er ! Nothing but leaves for a starving soul ! Unbound are my sheaves,who shall make them whole .^ Nothing but this } O, soul ! but wait, If you do not miss heaven's golden gate, HEART ECHOES. 85 Something not leaves, nor husks, nor tares, Fond hope believes will dispel your cares. Something too fair for pen to paint, Ah, then ! ah, there ! you will make no complaint. TOO LATE. The day is dead of a surety. When the careless touch of your hand Is more than another's touch would be ; You have lost — do you understand .^— The love of my heart ; aye, do not start ! You have thrown, like a toy, away Of your cup of bliss the better part, And bankrupt you are to-day. I have never a thought of love allied To my tenderest thoughts of you ; That day is past, for it was denied For another not half so true. Not half so true as my love for you, Ere you trampled it in the dust ; Not all the kindness you now can do Can awaken my buried trust. Let the dead past sleep ; it is dead for aye ; Its monumental stone The years have set as they passed us by. There is nothing that can atone • g5 HE A RT E CIJOE S. For the pain I felt, as that morn I knelt At your feet, and with you plead For the love that I coveted so, and you Told me that your love was dead. A NIGHT-WATCH. All night the fingers of the rain Have tapped against my window-pane ; All night the sobbing of the sea E'en in my dreams has haunted me ; So, flinging off the bonds of sleep. The lonesome watch I fain would keep. I think of faces I have missed, Of lips my own have often kissed, Now smileless, silent all the day, Beneath the grasses hid away ; And calling, calling unto me, I hear the sad voice of the sea. Its waters low but solemn boom, Make dreary echoes in the gloom ; And restless waves, with white arms tossed On high, and sheeted like a ghost. Seem beckoning to me, as I watch To see Day's white hand on the latch. HEART ECHOES. SUNSET-HOUR. Again 'tis sunset's solemn hour, The hour that always brings To me a feeling of unrest Upon its shining wings. The one great wish to look beyond The sunset's ambient door, And taste the bliss my dear ones have Whose feet have gone. before. It is the hour that always draws My soul so near to God ; I almost see the pave whereon Their shining feet have trod. The sunlight, like a joyous smile, Lies on the river's brim. Such as, methinks, lay on the waves Where they crossed o'er to Him. O soul of mine, cease this unrest ! Life yet is very sweet, For love doth make its every draught With happiness replete. Let the sweet boon of being loved The little while be mine, Life is so short — arid after it Etei'nity is thine. 87 88 HEART ECHOES. BESIDE THE FENDER. Sitting by the glowing fender, • Where the yule-log is ablaze, Memory sings to me a tender Heart-song of the vanished days ; Of the blissful dreams I cherished In the summers long agone. And the dear hopes that have perished While the years were drifting on. As the flickering fire-light flashes Widely through the door ajar, There are tears upon my lashes. For the dear ones who now are Sleeping in death's silent chambers, Where about the sculptured stone Tenderly the ivy clambers, Hiding the dear name thereon. O the dreary loss, the longing For the faces seen no more ! O the tender memories thronging Through the heart's wide open door, Till I hear sweet voices calling To me as the night grows late. In the wind's low footsteps falling Softly by the outer gate ! HEART ECHOES. 89 Mine the sorrow to inherit, Theirs the glory and the peace ;. Mine the sad and haunted spirit, Theirs the joys that never cease. my loved ones, safely chambered 'Neath the roof-tree fringed with flowers, Dearest, best-beloved, remembered Tenderly through all the hours ! Dear ones who, when sleep is blessing With oblivion my pain, Come, my aching brow caressing With the old-time touch again ; 1 am nearing, surely nearing. The far-off reunion shore ; And this thought my heart is cheering-^ We shall part, ah, nevermore ! LOVE'S TRYST. While the stars of the night-time are peeping The dome of the blue ether through, Alone in their light I am keeping Love's vigil, my darling, for you ! A moment ago and I fancied I heard your dear step at the gate, And yet you are absent, my dearest, And yet, O, my love, you are late ! go HE A R T E CHOES. You wrote, " when the day has departed" I should see the love-light in your eyes ; " My darling," you said, "be glad-hearted ; When the stars are agleam in the skies, I shall drink from your lips honeyed sweetness, Till I'm drunken the while with my bliss ;" And still I am waiting, and watching; O where are the lips I would kiss ? The moon up the blue stairway climbing, Looks pityingly down on my V^ars ; The eight o'clock bell now is chiming — How dreary the silence appears ! Hist ! a step on the graveled walk ringing. See ! see a bright face in the door ! ' All the birds in my heart that were singing. This morning are singing once more. INTROSPECTIVE. If I to read the future could, It I were loth to do. As life is rightly understood, God chides us only for our good. My thoughts on sorrow shall not brood, Because I know it is the lot Of all to suffer loss. My heart has bled, and whose has not ? But better is a grief forgot Than joy, so I have always thought. HEART ECHOES. And yet so much of stern regret Is concentrated there, Because, more brave, I had not met The demon Wrong, whose feet were set, Are set within my pathway yet. I've tried to live my earth-life so God should proclaim it right ; But my life-record v/ill not show. In all these years I've lived below. As fair as I once planned, I know. Its written book I look within. And, like a grieved child, say, Alas, alas ! too prone to sin This heart of mine has ever been ! Would no such errors were within ! I fail so often, when I fain Would show the most of strength; I faint, I fall, and yet again I fall ; nor show a sign of pain, Because 'tis weakness to complain. I would be just to all mankind. Would give to each their due ; But still, through ignorance, I find I all too often have been blind In judgment on my fellow-kind. 91 92 HEART ECHOES. I throw the curtain of Distrust Back to let in the light ; And have no two-edged sword to thrust Into a heart low in the dust ; And all because I would be just — Would do to others as I would That they should do to me ; And knowing well my own life should Be more productive still of good Among the world's great brotherhood. ,No doubts have I about that land To which we go from this. That which I cannot understand I leave unto the future, and Reach up the while a trusting hand. Just what I am, not what I may Sometimes have only seemed ; At His dear feet my faults I lay, And with a contrite spirit say, " Lord, help me walk the better way !'* IN THE DAYS LANG SYNE. You said you loved me in the days lang syne, And I, believing with a woman's trust. Built royal castles of those dreams of mine, And called them finished, saying," Moth nor rust HEART ECHOES. 93 Shall never eat their supple strength away, For Faith shall be their granite base alway." To-day my heart is heavy with its loss ; Not only lie my castles at my feet, But mine is still the heavy cross That makes my life so incomplete. Fame lured you up to walk her flowery path, I only met the tempest's awful wrath. One who has mastered song has sung, " Whom first we love, in truth we seldom wed.* What mattered the love-pearls my hand had flung To you, Fame's halo all about your head ? So far removed by genius from my sight, So bright your day, what knew you of my night? Although above my earthly way The star of hope for aye Has set, O my beloved, I can truly say, I did not blame, I do not blame you yet. Within her lock Fate turned her direful keyj How could you, O my darling, come to me 1 With her dark barrier looming high Between our mortal vision's ken, How could we, dearest — you and I — In love's sweet pathway walk again ? Ours is, alas ! the old refrain. The joy has passed us by that " might have been I' 94 HEART ECHOES. IN THANKFULNESS. What have I done, most gracious Lord, That I deserve so much ? All day I feel upon my head Thy hand's so kindly touch. All day the sunlight glints my way : My sky most sunny be ; What have I done, deserving so Much favor, Lord, from Thee ? My heart is full of thankfulness, My soul is full of prayer. That I upon my flock do gaze Nor see one vacant chair. My jewels every one I keep In Home's bright coronet ; Dear Lord, I thank Thee that not one Is missing from it yet ! Though earth vanish from my sight, I have no voice to plead For further grace. In Thee I have A friend in every need. And I were recreant to the trust Thou hast vouchsafed to me, Did I not humbly in the dust Sing, Lord, this song to Thee. HEART ECHOES, 95 HOSANNA TO THE KING! The golden pinions of the sun, Whose plume-tips swept the breast Of Mother Earth, are folded on The mountain's top in rest ; While solemnly, slowly above The stars this anthem sing : " Rejoice, rejoice, for God is love— ' Hosanna to the King !" The evening winds take up the strain, And wide o'er mount and sea, O'er valley low, and sodden plain — The Earth's immensity — Where Nature wears her wrap of green, And flowers their censers swing. They softly chant, with humble mien, " Hosanna to the King !" Hosanna to the King of day. Who, from His golden crown The fairest of the whole array Of jewels has cast down. O, when the song does stir the lute Of Nature's every string. Should mortal tongue alone be mute ? Hosanna to the King ! p6 HEAR T echoes: FREE Sleep, my beloved, sleep ! Life's fire is burned away ; I have no heart to weep That thou art dead to-day. Knowing that Pain no more Can scathe thee with its power ; I would not ope the door That Death has shut this hour. I say, " So let it be, I cannot wish thee back !" Life ever was to thee A rough and briery track. I have no tear to shed, I have no heart to weep, I can but say instead. Aye, sleep, my darling, sleep ! My blessed one, O sleep ! For thou art truly blest. Love's vigil thou didst keep, But now take, take thy rest. Life's feverish dream is spent, Its sorrow all is past ; I even am content, For thou art free at last ! HEART ECHOES 97 AN AUTUMN DAY. Again the rare and royal blood Of Summer-time has been Wrung from her throbbing heart, and thrown Broadcast o'er hill and plain. The old woods echo to the sound Of wailing winds, and all The mountains fold about their breasts The mantle of the Fall. Beneath a calm, untroubled sky I walk with listless tread. And feast my eyes upon the scene Dame Nature's hand has spread. How faithfully her magic touch The beauty has portrayed ! How lavish in her gorgeous tints Of sunshine and of shade. The south winds wander where they will, And all the forest aisles. Where she is holding queenly court, Are wreathed with royal smiles. Gay banners, wrought in quaint device, Are flung out to the breeze, And golden crowns bedeck the brows Of all the maple trees. 5 98 HEART ECHOES, Like visions of the Orient — Of sunlight on the sea — Aye, like a very dream of Heaven, This day has been to me. Methinks that even that blest land No fairer scene can give ; But this I know, Heaven seems so near, I am content to live. CROSSING OVER. Crossing o'er the darksome river, To the shore Where a sorrow cometh never, . Never more. Yet, O God, so much we love her, That we pray. As our tears fall fast above her, " Not to-day." Spare her till our hearts are stronger For the rod, Just a little, little longer, Blessed God! Has the earth-life power to charm her.? Nay and nay ; She would with the golden Summer Go away. HEART ECHOES. For her eyes have seen the vision, O, so fair ! Of the radiant fields Elysian, Over there. She has seen the fields more vernal Far than ours ; Seen, in dreams, the land Eternal, With its flowers. And the while our tears are falling In our woe, She is calling, ever calling, " Let me go !" Walking where Pain's hurtling briers Close are prest, Is rt strange her soul desires Perfect rest ? Death is but the kindly warden Who the gate Opens to the Golden Garden, Soon or late. E'en our tears condemn our blindness — Foolish tears ! She shall joy through Azrael's kindness, All the years ! Weep we on while she is going To her rest, Asking God to spare her, knowing He kfioivs best. 99 100 HEART ECHOES. NOVEMBER. November, with her filmy veil Of Indian-Summer haze, Her forehead star-gemmed, sad, and pale, And sombre robes ablaze With ambient sunshine, walks adown The vine-empurpled land, And scatters jewels from her crown With a most lavish hand. In gay battalions, back and forth The crimson-capped boughs sway, As Autumn in the storied North Holds carnival to-day. The winds all chant a solemn dirge As, with reluctant feet, Upon the Winter's very verge. From north and south they meet. The bright-eyed wrens a week ago Held a grand matinee ; Some frightened ones predicted snow — To-day, they're gone, I see. The speckled quail in flocks are seen Among the stubble dry; The rabbit, timid in its mien. With agile bounds goes by. HEART ECHOES. lOI And yet, among the frosted blooms That fringe the forest's robe, The cooing, brownrwinged partridge drums, To call her straying brood. While here and there I hear the sound Of falling nuts, as they Drop in the apron of the ground, This still November day. The ploughshare's wound is on Earth's breast, A wound that will not heal 'Till Nature, in her green robes drest. Shall lay thereon her seal. But Winter's kindly hand shall put A snowy bandage on, 'Till the good seed has taken root The farmer's hand has sown. O when some thoughtless deed shall mar Our life's most sacred soil, When heart-sick with unrest we are So weary of our toil, If one good seed we may have sown Shall spring to life and grow, And Purity shall cast thereon Her spotless robe of snow. No matter if we are not here To reap our harvest, friend ; Some heart, perchance, will hold us dear, Some heart a thought will send 102 HEART ECHOES. Into the great Beyond, and say, " Dear soul, we reap and sow, But yet the good seed thrives to-day You planted years ago !" Then, then, indeed, our life here was Not profitless or vain ; Who sows good seed through Nature's laws Shall surely reap again. And so, perhaps, some little deed Of kindness we have done. At God's dear feet shall intercede For us through Christ His Son. JENNIE. The sunlight falls down in a wondrous smile. And glints all the fair valley o'er; The robins are winging their home^way and singing. But we heed not their cadence, we see not the radiance Of gold on the hill-side for the shadows before, We weep, for our Jennie, the fairest of any And all of the band of earth-angels, Has gone from our hearth evermore. There's a little low mound in the valley to-day, But we see not the sunlight thereon ; For the tears that are falling, the while we are calling, " Come, fair little blossom, come back to our bosom, HEART ECHOES. 103 Our darling, our birdling, our beautiful one !" Vain call, for our Jennie, the fairest of any And all of the band of earth-angels, To the land of the angels has gone. The earth was too rough for her delicate feet. Now they're sandal'd with sapphire and pearl. Which around her is shedding their light as she's treading The fair fields Elysian, too bright for our vision, And God will protect her, our own little girl — Our little lost Jennie, the fairest of any And all of the band of the angels Who walk with their sandals of pearl. SOMETIME. " Sometime," I say, and look away With eyes that shine with longing, To see the fair, fair country, where The angel-hosts are thronging. " Sometime," O me ! when will it be, That I that glorious home shall see ? When will I reach the golden strand And join my loved in Eden Land 1 I faint, I fall, amid it all — • The turmoil and the trials ; My heart is sore unto its core For all its love-denials. 104 HEART ECHOES, Day after day, as far away That country seems for which I pray ; When will I reach the brighter shore, And join my loved for evermore? THE WOUNDED LINNET. Without, the chill November rain Was falling drearily; The wind against the window-pane Was tapping wearily. When, through the half-oped casement flew A little bird of sombre hue — A soft-eyed, trembling linnet. Canary in his cage asleep, Saw not the little eyes bo-peep So curiously within it. The little linnet's robe was brown. The worse for stormy weather ; Canary wore a golden crown And gold on every feather. The cage was silver-lined, to make It pleasant for the singer's sake ; But yet he pined and fretted, Just as a little robin would. Who, watching o'er its tiny brood, Was by the fowler netted. HEART ECHOES. His head tucked 'neath his shining wing, His caller was unheeded ; Until he heard the stranger sing, " Kind sir, your help is needed ; Here do I sit with wounded wing, Then haste restoratives to bring. For only just remember The winter-time draws near apace, And I would leave this dreary place While yet it is November." Canary heard with chirp of pride . The sweet voice of the linnet ; " My cage is cruel," then he cried, " Would that you were within it ! I'd dress your wounded wing, sweet friend, Your tattered plumage I would mend. And we would sing together ; What mattered if it stormed without, Our song of love should be about. Regardless of the weather." As canary this proposal made. The little brown-robed stranger Was almost tempted, I'm afraid. To be no more a ranger. But then she quickly sang in glee, " O give no gilded cage to me ! I could not live within it ; Nor could I sing, not e'en to you, Admitting that your love were true," Quoth little Mrs. Linnet. 5* 105 Io6 HEART ECHOES. " So keep your gilded cage, I pray, 'Tis very neat and pretty ; Your crown is nice, and, I will say, Your songs are gay and witty ; But there's a tiny little mate Who says, ' Dear love, we will migrate Ere fades the chill November ;' And first' love is to me the best. E'en though he wear no golden vest. His kindness I remember." From it a lesson we might con. This fable of the linnet ; This world is very fair, I own. But many dwell within it Who, when Adversity doth fling Dark clouds around, and shadows brin^ To faith and love together. Are lured with fetters made of gold Because the tempter dares be bold. And wears the gilded feather. GROWING OLD. Sitting where the flickering fire-light Casts its rays upon the floor, While the wind without is sighing, I have opened Memory's door. HEART ECHOES. 107 And adown the aisles so voiceless Of the years whose beads are told, Walk I saying, sadly saying, " I am growing, growing old ! O the fair sun-tinted meadows ! O the faces I have seen Only in the fields of Dreamland, Since the flowers have bloomed between ! O the glory on me streaming As the dead years are unrolled ! Would that I, while gazing on them, Could forget I'm growing old ! In Youth's pastures fair and vernal. Walk I with dear, precious feet — Feet that now for years have wandered Through Beulah's golden street. Years and years, beneath the daisies, Over them the graves dank mold Has been creeping, while I, weeping. Have been growing, growing old ! On my brow are threads of silver. Which the fleeting years have spun ; Once, in days that now are vanished, I could count them one by one. But to-night they band my forehead Like a 'kerchief all unrolled ; And I know, ah ! know too truly, I am growing, growing old. 1 08 HE A R T ECHOES. Growing old as life is reckoned Here on earth by mortal tongue ; In the joys of the Hereafter I shall be forever young. Time forgets to spin his silver In the Heavenly Shepherd's fold ; Then, I shall ne'er think to murmur, " I am growing, growing old." DYING. I AM going, O my loved ones, Out upon a journey far ! Chide me not, for I am going Where my best beloved are. O'er the river they are waiting On the bright and golden sands, And I see the snowy flutter Of their white, impatient hands. O, my heart is throbbing gladly. For the years have been so long. Since my ear drank in the music That their lips framed into song. Love, I know, would fain detain me. Hearts would bid me tarry here ; But it may not be, beloved, Though I hold you all so dear. HEART ECHOES. 109 Clasp me close, O clasp me closely, Press your loving lips to mine, For the golden bowl is breaking — Spilling all Life's ruby wine. Ne'er again my feet shall wander By your dear side as of yore, Till they greet you as you journey To me on the brighter shore. Comes the summons o'er the water, Like a merry marriage-bell ; *Tis the voice of the pale boatman Calling to me. Fare you well. ALONE. y Not that I loved my darling less, . - That I to link my life to his was loth ; The hand of God was broad enough to bless The lives, I knew — though separate — of both. And Fate had so ordained it for our good, That life could never be just what we planned ; That it was best, too, well we understood, Though why, we did not, could not understand. And so I put the blissful cup away Whose sweet, sweet draught so long had tempted me, And tried, " Thy blessed' will, not mine !" to say, And to forget the joys that could not be. J I o HEAR T ECHOES. But all the years of life have proved The fallacy of what we fancied right ; Had I been wedded to the man I loved, I had not, dying, been alone to-night. THEY SAY. We are biased in our actions More by what the world will say, Than the law of creeds and factions, In this nineteenth century. But I've faith to think this blindness Will have passed us years from hence ; When we will be ruled by kindness And old-fashioned common-sense. Show me, if you can, a woman Who would walk the street to-day With a creature all too human. Quite unmindful of " They say." Once, a thief, in heart-felt sorrow. Prayed, " Lord, be my sins forgiven !" And that thief was on the morrow With the blessed Lamb in Heaven. He whose mercy saved that sinner, Points us to the Magdalen, Saying, try that ye may win her From the broad, broad road of sin. HE A RT E CHOES. \ \ \ Do we try ? O have we heeded That a dear soul is at stake ? Have we kindly interceded For her for the Master's sake ? Nay, I mind me now of many Who would draw their robes away As from out the fire, if any Such were passing on life's way. Women, too, whose lamps are burning (?) In the Church with steady light ; Never pausing, never turning. Saying, " Sister, do the right /" O, who would evince such daring. In the broad, broad light of day ? She the badge of shame is wearing, And what would the world say ? We have duties all around us In this life's unceasing fray, Let us care who may surround us, More for Right, than what " They say" NATURE'S POEM. A WONDERFUL, marvelous poem Of birds and the murmuring brook, The finger of Nature to-day Has penned in her beautiful book. 112 HEART ECHOES. The breezes swept down from the mountain, And rustled the leaves into song ; And each hour was a verse, so the poem, As the exquisite day, was as long. O rare are the thought-scintillations The wondrous book doth enfold. Which is clasped with the sunshine of heaven. And bound in the sky's blue and gold. The cover is daintily studded With stars, which the night-time has brought From the courts of the worshiping angels, To embellish this volume of Thought. In rapture I read from its pages, Far out in the depths of the night, And think of the poem unwritten Which the pen of To-morrow will write. Then to sleep, and, in blissful awakening. To meet the glad kiss of the sun. And read from the beautiful pages The song which the day has begun. • HOUR OF THOUGHT. The sun's bright chariot rolls its way Adown Time's beaten track. And takes with it another day That never will come back. HE A RT E CHOES. 113 Another day, another day, That never will come back, Never, never, never more To us will come back. In wondering awe the while we stand, And tearfully we sigh To see the growing shadows and The fair day pass us by. To see the bright and golden day So "swiftly pass us by, Forever by, forever by. So swiftly pass us by. With dusky robes Night climbs the stair To Heaven's ethereal arch ; The moon is shining calmly there. The stars are on their march — With stately step and slow, on high The stars are on the march That time allotted unto them, Their everlasting march. O well-loved hour of solemn thought, Blest hour of Aiden-bliss, What tender dreams our hearts have wrought By vision such as this ! What tender, tender fancies, What dreams of future bliss O'erflood the eager, waiting soul, By vision such as this ! 1 1 4 HEAR T ECHOES. AS BY DEATH. I TOLD you I would be your friend, And none should be so true ; That Friendship's path should never end Where I would walk with you. Didst deem it but a hollow vow } O friend, I only know That as by death are parted now Our life- paths here below. Parted, and by a little word, (Would it had been unsaid). that instead one friend had heard The other one was dead. 1 cannot tear your memory quite From out my heart, as though You did not have the sacred right Of friendship long ago. Well, life is fraught with griefs like this, (After the darkness light) ; In Heaven — the thought brings happiness- The wrong shall be made right. No less a loving hand I reach Than in the years agone ; Yet know the while on earth that each Must journey on alone. HEART ECHOES. But, if when life's short hour is o'er, Our paths again shall blend ; If, in the light of Faith once more We clasp hands, O, my friend, I will not murmur for the cross That presses me so sore ; There^ I shall sorrow for the loss Of your love never more. So, be that day far-off or near. In hopeful trust I wait To clasp your hand, and kiss you, dear, Beyond the Golden Gate. 115 THE LONG AGO. When thou'rt sitting sad and lonely In thy home beside the sea. Dost thou ever, though 'tis only For the moment, think of me ? When the evening shadows darken, And the yule-log is ablaze, Dost thou ever pause to hearken For the tones of other days ? Reading in each glowing ember Stories of the buried past. Dost thou, darling, then remember Joys which were too sweet to last ? I 1 6 HE A RT E CHOES. Give me answer, for I'm longing, Longing, dear one, so to know If through memory's hall is thronging Footsteps of the Long Ago. FORGIVE. I KNOW now it was love that stirred My being's pulses so, My darling, at the little word You whispered years ago. I know that I have missed the best Of life Life had to give, That in my heart a great unrest Will be the while I live. But were you happy, I content Could walk my shadowed way. Believe me, dear, I never meant To turn to night your day. " God grant the sun of joy for you Shall shine the while you live !" Such was my prayer, Beloved and true, Forgive me, O forgive ! HEAR T ECHOES. iij HIS WAYS NOT ALWAYS ARE AS OURS. I HOLD it sinful to despond When life's clouds hover low ; That he who does not look beyond., And see the golden bow Of Promise shining in the sky, Is blind unto God's laws. He who knows pain, should bravely try To find the real cause. For Fate is, as she stands intact, A most capricious elf; We shun her shadows, when in fact We are to blame ourself For half the sorrow that is thrown Around our earthly way. Ours, I repeat, and ours alone. The blame day after day. I hold it sinful, aye, 'tis more, For us to so rebel. When God's dear mercy hovers o'er, And knowing He doth well. For us to doubt His love. Though He Some grief gives us to bear — Because He chastens us, shall we Unjustly doubt His care. ^ 1 1 8 HE A RT E CFIOES. His ways not always are as ours, And yet He doeth best. In pleasant paths and strewn with flowers, Were our feet always prest, We were like children gone astray. We need a ruling hand — He leads us by the better way, Unto the Better Land. And, knowing this, I do not doubt His all-prevailing care. His love doth fold me round about If I be here or there. I humbly cling unto the hand That leads me on, and say, I fain would reach that glorious Land, Thou knowest, Lord^ the way ! YESTERDAY. How fair the earth was yesterday ! How green the meadows were ! The poet. Nature, was her owu And best interpreter. A golden haze enwrapt the hills, A bright and ambient glow Like veil of mist dropped low, and kissed The valley just below. HEART ECHOES. The violets their blue-bells swung Upon the grassy lea, And starry daisies raised their eyes. Toward heaven, wonderingly. The meadows in their sheen arrayed Looked fair as any bride ; It did not seem one beauteous dream Of earth had been denied. To-day the sky is ashen-hued ; The wind sobs on the heath ; Dire shadows lie upon the hills, And on the vale beneath ; But, mirrored in the shining glass Of loving memory. The yester's sheen lies bright between The sombre mist and me. 119 IT IS NOT DEATH. The shuttle of the weaver, Death, To-night is. swiftly flying Through life's bright woof, and of a truth I know that I am dying. Day after day the shadow 'd way Grows clearer to my vision. And soon, ah, soon ! mine is the boon To tread the fields Elysian. 1 20 HEAR r E CHOES. Much as this earth for me contains — And O, so well I love it ! — When harrassed 'round with cruel pains, Thought loves to soar above it In sweet communion there to dwell, Where sorrow cometh never, And where the sad, sad word " Farewell,*' Is heard no more forever. So do not chide me, dear ones, if I look with anxious longing, Above this life, at best so brief. To where God's hosts are thronging. I've wearied of the poet's wreath. The world's all-hollow praises ; It is not death to sleep beneath The violets and daisies. IN SUMMER. The brown thrush in the maple-tree Her sweetest song is singing, The while the sun, o'er mount and lea, His jeweled robe is flinging. The roses weave a perfumed hedge In which the south winds dally ; As by the river's fretted edge. They walk adown the valley. HEART ECHOES. 121 Sweet is the air with violets' breath, And perfume of the clover, And over all the earth beneath The sky bends like a lover. Nature reflects God's blessed smile, 'Tis mirrored on each feature ; The Love whose great breadth does the while Encompass every creature. I hear His step the winds adown, The mountains all adore Him ; He stills the waters with a frown, The tempests bow before Him. I hear His voice in every breeze. In every pasture vernal, In thankfulness my spirit sees The love of the Eternal. I see it in the sunlight's sheath. The violets' blue cover ; I see it in the earth beneath — The blue sky bending over. O, Earth is passing fair to those Who to Him thanks do render. The tiniest wild-flower as the rose. Enfolds itself in splendor. The thanks due to the One who made The earth and all that's in it. Whose hand its broad foundations laid, Whose kindness did begin it. 122 HEART ECHOES. And singing thus our songs of praise, These hearts of ours will see the Rare smile of Peace through all the days, From Alpha to Omega. LIFE'S DISCIPLINE. I WAS so like a grieved, impatient child ; I shrank so from the chastening rod : And was, O so unreconciled. Because sometimes the path I trod Had more of thorns therein than flowers, I said we know best what we need And shrank from where His hand would lead, Because His ways are not as ours. A beauteous flower I fain would reach, But could not for the tide was high ; I dreamed sweet dreams, to see them each And every on^e swift pass me by. Life seemed at variance with Hope, And Love was, O, so far away ! My life I said had known no May, What thanks had / to offer up ? I saw a leaf upon a tree — A beauteous thing with raiment red ; But it, too, hung so far from me My heart would not be comforted. HEART ECHOES. 1 23 I saw rare fruit the bough upon, So luscious with the Summer's kiss, But so far removed my hand would miss From sun to sun, from sun to sun. And so my days went on apace — Went swiftly on, and on, and on, And still there was upon my face The story of a joy unwon ; I wondered why I could not see As others did, not as a child ; Why. I could not be reconciled^ Though life few joys had given me ! . Ungrateful ! aye, I did not mean To be, but was, from sun to sun ; Not knowing that the discipline Of loss for me a good had done ; But now, to wiser stature grown, I drop the cold hand of Distrust To know His ways are always just, And better for us than our own. I pray the Christian's staff of strength In after years I shall not miss ; More sweet my joy, when I at length Shall journey to that land from this ; Because the grief that here opprest The stern temptations I have known, I shall not walk the way alone That leads to everlasting rest. 124 HEART ECHOES. FETTERS OF GOLD. A STATELY house with turrets grand, It stands upon the sloping hill : No nobler one in all the land : The tracery of a skillful hand Is all about the place ; but still There is a something incomplete, A void among the grandeur there : No child-voice with its accents sweet, No pattering sound of little feet, No white-robed forms at evening prayer. The walls are hung with pictures rare, The skill of many an artist's hand. From out the silken hangings there Soft incense floats upon the air, — Rich odors from a tropic land. The mistress is still fair and young, The master he is stern and old ; The same sad story told or sung : A true heart she aside had flung. And sold herself for paltry gold. For it she'd wrecked a loving heart, A dear head bowed with grief and shame ; But yet the old, old pain will smart. And tears of deep remorse will start At but the mention of his name. HEAR T ECHOES. j 2 5 Aye, mistress of the mansion grand ! Oft does the vision come to you As in your silken robes you stand — Two youthful forms, hand clasping, hand, And vowing ever to be true ! O broken heart, with pain opprest ! The heir forever more of woe — O lips to which griefs cup is pressed, The draught that would have given rest Was thrown away long years ago ! * * * * * * A long procession passed to-day From out the mansion door. Just as a tired ship made its way Through the still waters of the bay To meet and kiss the sanded shore. A light foot touched the wave-washed beach ; I saw a brow with lines of care That back into the dead years reach. And side by side they were, but each Unconscious of the other there. Something about the silent throng Led him to join the mournful train ; Proud tassels from the rich bier hung, Plumes waved the drapery among. And thus they two did meet again. 1 26 HEAR T ECHOES. Then came the solemn burial-prayer, The farewell to the silent dead Who slept with jewels in her hair, And dust to dust they laid her there Within her low and narrow bed. All turned away ; the stranger stood Of all the solemn throng apart ; Ah ! now, alas ! he understood How he had even dared intrude, Her name was graven on his heart. None knew the secret of that night That left its impress on the spot ; Some said 'twas dew that gleamed so bright, But O, I read the tale aright ! — His love had never been forgot. And she, thank God, has found her rest ! No more her white face looks on me, When day dies slowly in the west. All is at peace within her breast ; The chains are broke — the prisoner free. TELL ME! I CANNOT tell if it be love. This sense of perfect rest ; I only know the white-winged dove Of Peace sits in my breast : HEART ECHOES. Answered somehow seems every prayer My lips have ever framed ; Of erst oft wandering, Hope sits there Forever more reclaimed. I do not know what it could be That thrilled my pulses so, As in the gloaming last night we Walked slowly to and fro. The feeling was too sweet by far As yet to be expressed ; Life seemed perfected with you there, Your presence brought me rest. Such rest as I have never known In all my earthly years ; Your coming brings me joy alone. Your going brings me tears. If 'tis not love, then tell me, sweet, What casts this golden glow Upon my path when e'er we meet — Aye, tell me if you know ! 127 THE CITY OF PEACE. When the tears of this life are all over, dear friend, And its turmoil forever shall cease ; When up the bright stairway our feet shall ascend To the city v/hose name evermore shall be Peace. 128 HEART ECHOES. Who will miss us, I wonder, from out the glad throng Of the minstrels who come, and the minstrels who go ? Who will miss us, and, missing, will long for the song We sang of an evening long Summers ago ? We know not ; we know only this at the best. We shall leave all our griefs in this valley of tears ; In the evergreen pastures of Life we shall rest, While the shuttle of Time throws the thread of the years. The grave, the dark grave, has no terrors for me, For Hope has embroidered the funeral pall ; The hands calmly folded, the sleep that we see, "The eyes closed to beauty, the ears deaf to call — I, never in thinking of those gone before, In my heart can bewail such mute symbols as these ; For they give to the sleeper the key to the door That leads to the city — the City of Peace. MARGARET. Many moons have waxed and waned. Many suns have set. Since beneath Italian skies Laid we Margaret. HEART ECHOES. 1 29 Margaret, the Queen of Song, Pearl of rarest pearls, With the death-dew heavy on Her bright golden curls. I have missed her many years. And I miss her yet ; Miss the voice when others praise Of my Margaret; Miss the warm clasp of her hand, And her ringing laugh ; Ah, life has, since she is dead. Lost its sweetness half. Oft I faint beneath life's care, Weary of its fret, And I say, " Would thou wert here, Dearest Margaret !" But the threshold of the grave She but once has crossed. Hers but adds one name the more To my " loved and lost." AN AUTUMN REVERIE. Softly blow, softly blow. Winds of the morning ! Whisper low, whisper low, Gentlest of warning ! 130 HEART ECHOES. For over the mountain There comes from afar, A monarch whose shield Is as bright as a star. White is his raiment, And flashing with light Is the crown on his forehead With jewels bedight. The bowers where Autumn Her garlands have strown, Have furled their bright banners, The birds all have flown. The brook as it murmurs The valleys along, Has guessed its sad meaning — I know by its song. But a short week ago. From the old elm tree, The king of the robins Confided to me That the fleet winds had said, But the evening before. The reign of the beautiful Autumn was o'er. And then in a twinkling Was off on the wing, To the land of bright sunshine And eternal Spring. O winds of the nor'-land Your secret is told, HEART ECHOES. The wolf stands e'en now At the gate of the fold ! Yet, O, I entreat you To whisper it low ! For he cometh — King Winter — Whose robe is the snow. 131 SUNSHINE IN THE HEART. • Blessed is the man or woman Who in life's vicissitudes Never o'er a disappointment In a hopeless spirit broods ; All their days are days of gladness, Where joy's sacred flowers upstart. Blest for aye the man or woman Who keeps sunshine in the heart. Whose bright faces ever mirror Pictures from the inner shrine ; They, and they alone, do ever Drink hope's sacramental wine. Such can laugh when melancholy Flings at them her poisoned dart ; They can well defy bleak weather, Keeping sunshine in the heart. Such an one is to be envied Of a truth more than a king ; 132 HEAR 7' ECHOES. For into life's Winter weather They can take the charms of Spring. Life can never be a failure, Nor hope's garland fall apart, With them who, through all its changes, Carry sunshine in the heart. WHEN FROM EARTH I GO AWAY. t Do not weep for me, I pray, When from earth I go away. Only kiss me on my brow, Saying " She is happy now," Only kiss me, saying low, " It is, dearest, better so." Though to your impassioned cry I shall make no love-reply ; Though no word of greeting slips From my white and smileless lips Looking on your voiceless dead, Let your heart be comforted. Never more to weep again. Ne'er to feel the touch of pain, I shall never, night or day. Be from you so far away But I can with angel-speech Down the silence to you reach. HEART ECHOES. Then no tear above me shed When they whisper, " She is dead !'! Kiss me on my chilling brow, Saying " She is happy now." Only kiss me, saying low, " It is, dearest, better so." 133 FLOWER INCENSE. Old Mother Earth, with arms brim full Of dainty violets, That we so love the beautiful And pure never forgets. She makes the tangled braes to glow, The prairied reach to shine, Where flowers have made swift haste to throw Their gems on Nature's shrine. And thou, O wind ! O Summer wind ! The green braes sweeping o'er ; Sweep every grief from out my mind — Sweep every joy before, While, 'mong the scent of fern and rose, From upland and from lea. The hand of Nature kindly throws Flower incense unto me. 134 HEART ECHOES. MY DEAD. Under the starry daisies, Under the violets' sheen, Are many and many faces That I in my life have seen. Under the blossoming clover That maketh the fields so red, Under the grasses cover Slumber my dreamless dead. From earth and earthly places Gone evermore away, Are, O, so many faces Dear to my heart alvvay ! But up in the Heavenly meadows, Up in that land of bliss, They take no note of the shadows That hide them away in this ! Under the starry daisies, Under the violets' sheen. Touching their many faces A wondrous hand has been. And the streets of the city golden Are made like the sun to shine. With the faces of those olden And earth-lost friends of mine. HEART ECHOES. THE EARL'S SECRET. They wandered down the corridor 135 The Earl and his young bride ; She, gentle as a timid fawn, He, mighty in his pride. But though her sire was, too, an Earl, It did not seem betide That she should ever mate the stern, Dark warrior by her side. A week before and he had brought Her to his lordly hall. To be the sharer of his wealth — His bride, his love, his all. But something in that silent room Swept o'er them like a pall, Though nothing but a picture hung Upon the cobwebbed wall. Like a frail reed swept by a storm Trembled his stalwart frame. As with a cry upon his lip He uttered but a name : A name an angel might have spoke. Nor deemed it linked with shame ; Then to his bride, " It is so like, — But cannot be the same, — " The face I met across the sea ; It has her wondrous eyes ; 136 HEART ECHOES. I do not wonder that you stand Bewildered for surprise ; And see the lips, the coral mines Have lent their brightest dyes, Though the sweet face is partly hid Beneath the dust's disguise ! " But you are weary standing here, And tremble with affright ; Or would you hear the story, dear, Amid the gathering night ? E'en when the splendor of these eyes Are fading from our sight, As did her eyes across the sea Fade under sorrows' blight. . " Well, list, my bird, and I will tell The tale from shame not free, E'en with these memory-haunting eyes Looking so sad on me. It is enough that once we met Beside the sobbing sea, And though my feet stole there alone, Something returned with me. ** Something, whose purity had shamed The lily of the glen ; But though my hand had won the prize, I was despised of men. And she, O darling ! 'neath the stars HEART ECHOES. 1 37 We often met again, But never from her dusky eyes Went out the look of pain. " I could not claim her as my bride, She was of lowly birth, Though fitting in her beauty rare For any king on earth. And I had stolen from her life All that made life of worth ; Had made for her in all her years A pilgrimage of dearth. " I prayed unto my haughty sire To let me save her life From all the shame, by giving her The hallowed name of wife ; But on my sorrow-stricken head Fell words with anger rife ; So, to redeem his proud old name, I forfeited her life. " There came a time when these old halls Missed their proud master's tread ; When in the old ancestral vaults My sire slept with the dead. Where sorrow's frosts should nevermore Fall round about his head. Then, like a bird whose wing is freed, Across the sea I sped. 138 HEART ECHOES. " 'Twas night when to her door I came, But silence lay around So deep, that e'en the whispering wind Seemed like a dirge profound, As, like a memory-haunted soul, It walked the cottage round. As though it fain would tell her that Her. happiness was found. " But. in the moonlight, strangely near, I saw a new-made grave, And conscience whispered to my heart, ' You are too late to save.' Go list her dirge where once she sung Beside the echoing wave, Or o'er your dark, impassioned heart Let the deep waters lave- " How for my fears I reached the mound I scarcely need to tell, The wind had told the o'er-true tale. Well might it wail a knell. For on the tablet gleaming there This only—' Isabel '— Told me that with the bride I sought All was forever well. " Ten years I trod through desert-lands, But ever by my side There shone the sad, reproachful eyes. Of the fair girl who died — HEART ECHOES. 139 Who should have queened it here to-day, In all her regal pride. Her memory was dearer far Than all the world beside, " Till, like a gentle white-winged dove, You flitted 'cross my way ; Then first amid the drearsome night I saw the gleam of day, And said, ' I fain would wear this bird Next to my heart alway. Upon its sobbing, trembling chords, Some sweeter notes to play.' " Yet I have sinned in choosing thus ; Dear love, you should have wed One. who wears honor's spotless crown Upon a royal head, For with this tale of deep remorse Your heart had never bled. If I had been as true as she Who sleeps among the dead." The darkness setded all around, , Hiding the face so fair. E'en hid the two who side by side Knelt in the silence there. And from the sweet lips of the bride Went forth the earnest prayer That what was e'er his weal or woe. She might forever share. 140 HEART ECHOES. Then forth they passed from out the room, She trusting as of old, Loving, forgetful of the tale His truthful lips had told. But something shone upon her brow, Amid the locks of gold, A seal that told most worthy she Was of her Saviour's fold. What gem can shine as does the one Forgiveness does impart ? I know the bitterness of pain Went from her husband's heart ; . Her kiss had healed for aye the wound Where lurked remorse's dart — O Charity ! meek child of Faith, Love's own dear proof thou art ! IN THE DUSK. Comes the shadows one by one, Telling us the day is done ; Homeward wends the lowing kine, Dewy hangs the drooping vine ; O'er the myrtle and the rose Broods the spirit of repose ; Where Day's raiment fluttered past. See, the stars have come at last ! HEART ECHOES. Luna, in hor regal state, Riding through the eastern gate Flings her reins out on the breeze, And they tangle 'mong the trees, Till a golden net seems spread Through the larches overhead ; Sit with me, O friend of mine. While she spills her ambient wine. Sit beside mine lattice, sweet. While the winds a song repeat. For your eyes quite shame the stars Gleaming twixt the azure bars ; Look whichever way you will. But I promise you until Your dear form is hid from view, When I wist I shall look too. I shall never see the sky With your fair, sweet face so nigh. Nor a star, however bright, Till your eyes are lost to sight. Sitting thus, where Day and Eve Over us their banners weave ; Friends, I drink the sweetest wine E'er vouchsafed these lips of mine. 141 142 HEART ECHOES. WHITE BLOSSOM OF REST. Open thine arms, O Earth, my Mother, Take me, O take me close, close to thy breast, I am tired of this world, and I long for the other, I, O my mother, am only another, Longing to wear the white blossom of Rest. O, but to slip from the shadows around me. Out where the feet of the angels have press'd, Galling the fetters, O me, that have bound me, And never a day has yet come but has found me Longing to wear the white blossom of Rest. Like a child for lost treasures my heart has been grieving. So long in the brambles my tired feet have press'd, — Let me go, what is earth that I sorrow in leaving } Let me go, O the joy that I find in believing You will place on my brow the white blossom of Rest. RAIN OF SUMMER. Hark, I hear the tapping, tapping On the pane, Of the white, bejeweled fingers Of the rain. HEART ECHOES. And I hear the welcome footsteps At the door, Of the blessed rain of Summer, Come once more.. She, through weeks of anxious waiting Kept aloof, O it seems like angels walking On the roof. Mother Earth ne'er seemed so happy As to-night ; And the brooklets loud are singing For delight. Every flower a hymn is chanting Of content, For the blessed rain of Summer God has sent. 143 A PICTURE FROM MEMORY. It all comes back to me to-day, The memory of that afternoon. When, sailing up the Chemount Bay, We watched the carpeting that June Had spread upon the prairied reach. Sometimes our lips were framed in speech ; But oftenest we nothing said, For never from Great Nature's book Had we a sweeter poem read. 144 HEART KCIIORS. And as our hearts were busy thus In reading from her precious lore, High in the blue afloat o'er us, " Receding from the hills' green shore. White cloud-ships with their canvas flung Out to the breeze sped on their way, Some in bright moorings calmly lay, And some a tiny star had hung Just like a watch-light at their prow. For, lo ! the sun had slipped away. And Night her robes was trailing low Upon the green reach and the Bay. As one who to sweet music lists From the great world I turn aside, — As though it never yet had died. The memory of that day exists. THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE RAIN. They fall upon my roof to-night, And sadden me again, In sandals soled with rays of light — The soft feet of the rain. The solemn, sad-voiced winds the while, Like a lone mourner grieves, As Autumn's withered leaves they pile High up beneath the eaves. HEART ECHOES. 145 O sweet remembrances of them Who sleep beneath the sod ! Whose raiments' tear-bespangled hem Trails o'er the path they trod, Bring me from out the realms of space A solace for this pain ; Step quicker yet, go on apace, soft feet of the rain ! Ye 'mind me so of other feet Who come to me no more ; Of swift-winged joys, so fair and sweet, Gone by forevermore. And over all the years now dead, Thought spreads her wings again, As on the roof-tree overhead 1 hear the Autumn rain. FAITH IN YOU.. The world has been to you, love. Most selfish and unkind ; Friends many have been untrue, love, But, dearest, never mind. Still in the path of Right, love. Your onward course pursue ; 'Tis morning after night, love, — I still have faith in you. 146 HEART ECHOES. Not wealth or fame you've won, love, (You're happier thus, you'll find.) Your work has been well done, love, So, dearest, never mind. And if you've done your best, love, You've surely naught to rue ; In sweet content then rest, love, I slill have faith in you. Do not rebel at fate, love. Her clouds are silver-lined, The sun will shine, though late, love, Then, dearest, never mind. This heart will trust you still, love, Whatever others do ; This heart forever will, love, Have boundless faith in you. FIRELIGHT FANCIES. I AM thinking to-night, I am thinking. As I sit in the firelight's glow. Of faces that shone round the old home-hearth In the firelight of Long Ago. What fancies we wove of the bright To-Come, As we peered through the dreamy haze That enshrouded the future from us. In the far-off mystical days. HEART ECHOES. j^y O the beauteous hopes that lured us then, Which never have been fulfilled ! the precious wine the hand of the Years From the cup of our joy has spilled ! What pictures we wrought that Winter night, As we sat in the firelight's glow ; Pictures now faded and washed by tears. In the frame of the Long Ago ! 1 am thinking to-night, I am thinking Of that gladsome, young, radiant band, But I miss the kiss of the honeyed lip, And the touch of the kindly hand. They have gone from my sight like the white- snow wreath The Winter spread over the earth, We will meet no more in the olden home With the firelight agio' on the hearth. Some are sleeping 'neath sweet-scented thyme, Some under the daisies and clover, With the sod of the valley pressed over the hearts Whose hopes and whose dreams now are over. The Past ! O the mystical lines it weaves In the web of sunshine and gloom, Till I almost fancy I see again The faces that sleep in the tomb ! 148 HEART ECHOES. Mine own have looked into love-lit eyes, Dear faces have gladdened my sight, As I have sat by my silent, hearth Alone in the weird firelight. OUR ONLY ONE. Our darling's feet grew weary in the gloaming, Too tired he was to lisp the words, " Our Father;' The red, red roses only yester blooming Upon his cheeks, had dropped away together. His gentle brow, so waxen and so saintly, A band of pain was knotted fast around. And out his parted lips, but O so faintly. The breath came with a most foreboding sound ! His pansy eyes were full of direful pl^ding, As, reaching up to us one little hand, His lips for ease of pain were interceding. Ah ! 'twas an easy thing for us to understand That Death was walking close beside us. Weaving his crown of amaranthine flowers, And thrice before — aye, thrice — he had denied us Dear baby hands to hold the while in ours. Three times before had little dainty fingers Like snow-flakes slipped from ours away ; One little bird is all, alas ! that lingers Within the bower of Home to-day. HEART ECHOES. 149 One little bird, " O spare !" our white lips fashion, If he must go, another time, I pray, instead ! Upon his anguish God has had compassion, Our little bird — O God ! our only one — is dead ! TO BE WITH THEE. I've wearied of the world's vain praise, I've wearied of its smiles ; A song of other, brighter days. No longer me beguiles. The festive hall is all alight, Gay voices call to me, But O, I'm longing more to-night To be with thee, with thee ! My heart is sick and comfortless, Yet I must wear a smile. Because the throng must never guess I sorrow so the while. I teach my lips to wreathe in song Rare flowers of melody. And all the while, beloved, I long So much for thee, for thee ! They whisper that my dusky eyes • Were never half so bright ; That a whole world of gladness lies Within their depths to-night. ISO II R ART IXIIORS. But, ah ! beneath my borrowed mask They are too blind to see, That in my heart I only ask To be with thee, with thee ! MARION. From God's hand one bud so sweet Dropped from Heaven to my feet In the Summers long ago. In its petals white as snow. As it lay upon my bosom There was promise of a blossom That should be most fair to see, (So to-day she seems to me.) Suns of sixteen years have shed Golden halo on her head ; Perfected her form in grace ; Added beauty to her face ; All my mother-heart can do Can not half portray to you How she looks, her dainty feet Standing 'mong the blossoms sweet Of her sixteenth Summer, and Looking forward to the land Of the Future. Land unseen For the shadows yet between. HEART ECHOES. Lips in maiden sweetness chaste, Bronze hair reaching to her waist, Eyes whose tint a reflex seem : In whose depths there lurks the dream Of the years of life to come. Dainty rosebud half in bloom : — Where is maiden fairer than She, my queenly Marion ? Nearing fast the mystic gate Girlhood reaches soon or late, Sometimes v/ill a vague unrest Rise and haunt the while my breast, Fears that in the future she Direful griefs and cares may see. Mother-love not always may Pluck the thorns from out her way ; Womanhood has cares and tears, Hopeless dreams, and hopeless years. Tender feet across its track Ne'er as yet have journeyed back. But my prayer is, night and day, May she walk the sunniest way Life to mortal here can give. Teach her. Father, so to live That when earthly life is o'er She shall be a child once more. 151 1 5 2 HE A R T E CIIOES. THE PRESENCE OE GOD. O Summer winds, whose restless feet Now wander to and fro ! O stars, whose radiant gems complete The crown on Nature's brow ! O bright-eyed moon, whose golden lyre Swings in the vault of Night, And like a hooded friar walks The star-begirted height. forest deep and ocean wide, O mountain high and grand ! On all of ye has Nature stamped The impress of God's hand. 1 hear His voice amid the rain That falls upon my roof; I see His eye amid the flowers That weave earth's carpet's woof; I feel His presence in my soul, His hand upon my heart, And know "that this so humble life Is of His love a part. A tithe e'en of the wondrous skill His handiwork displays, And with all Nature will I lift My voice to hymn His praise. HEART ECHOES. LET IT PASS. When the hand of sly Intrigue Seems with hidden foes at league,. And the tongue of Slander says Every thing but in your praise, If your conscience only be Wed to truth and purity, Nev^er mind the " what they say," 'Tis by far the better way. Better be on the alert. Lest you should with short retort Add more fuel to the flame. As you value your good name. Though the world to stab you has Tried the while, just let it pass. Friend, I pray you, let it pass. It is always mean and low To strike back a coward blow. Truth is truth, or here or there. Right is right, and everywhere — Just the same that wrong is wrong. In life's pathway strewn along Thorns are often found to vex ; Cares and troubles will perplex. Weeds of sorrow without number Will life's precious soil encumber, If you lend an ear to all We by Slander's name mav call. 153 154 HEART ECHOES. Do the best that you can do^ To your conscience pi'oving true^ And the victor's part you will Of a verity fulfill. SLEEPING. Do you wonder I am weeping All the live-long day ? Down beneath the grasses sleeping, Is my Aggie Ray. Sleeping with her brow so chilly, O so chilly, and Holding but a withered lily In her snowy hand ! O'er her blue eyes sweep the lashes, Shutting in their light, While the ruby jewel flashes On her finger white. Friend, few months agone I won her. Won her mine to be, With her bridal raiment on her Parted now are we. Never does she hear me calling, " Aggie, Aggie Ray !" While for her my tears are falling, Drip, drop, all llic day. HE A RT E CM OE S. They have made her bridal chamber All too low, alas ! O too well do 1 remember Only she could pass Through the door on emerald hinges Which 'tween us has swung, Where the flowers' sweet-scented fringes All about have hung. Fair the coverlet above her Which the Spring has spread ; O the violets' all love her None the less now dead ! Death not long can part such lovers, This my comfort be ; Sometime and the roof that covers Her shall cover me. When this misty veil of weeping Shall have dropped away, Side by side we shall be sleeping, I, and Aggie Ray ! Side by, side our feet shall wander In that land of bliss — In that country over yonder. Past the verge of this. To her flower-strewn bridal chamber Death will ope the door. And I smile when I remember We shall part no more. 155 I 5 6 HE A R T K CIIOES. MY DARLING. Bluer than these pansy blossoms are my darling's starry eyes, And he loves me, O he loves me, nothing can the truth disguise ! Tho' he never yet has fashioned love's sweet rhythm into words, ' Yet his voice to me is sweeter than the song of Summer birds. Through the chrism of the twilight drifts the echo of a tune, Clearer than the happy carol of a singing-bird in June. Words his lips have kept unuttered, lettered in his love-lit eye. Seal him mine, and mine forever, while the years of life go by ! In Thought's holy citadel, where his sweetest memo- ries throng. If he thmks of me with worship, O my heart, will it be wrong ? ■ If he loves me, dare I chide him, saying to him, " Nay, and nay? It is better to forget me, put the thoughts of me away HEAR T ECHOES. j q j Love, O love, I cannot ask it, words like these I cannot speak ! I would faithful be to duty, but my heart, alas ! is weak ! And I never see a pansy with its tender eyes of blue, But my darling, O my darling, all my heart goes out^ to you ! Floats the scent of fragrant roses softly through the Summer air, 'Minding me of ones he gathered in the twilight for my hair. And my tears are falling, falling with a sorrowful refrain, For the rose of hope is withered^ and can never bloom again. Dearest, O my best beloved, let me call you so to-day ! Call you so, although you never hear the blessed words I say. Heart to heart has fondly answered, on love's tablet pure and white. Still again " My own, mine only," with a loving hand I write. NOVEMBER SONG. If you try you'll surely win it, Fly, O fly, then, little linnet ! 158 HEAR T ECHOES. Plume your wing, too, dainty swallow, Where the Spring is, follow, follow ! Bird with breast like gold aglitter, Leave your nest, the winds are bitter ! Sweet-heart thrush, I pray you hearken, Hush, O hush, the shadows darken ! Do not wait a day that's coming, It is late for bird and blooming. Comes a day of dreary weather. Fly away, sweet birds, together. THE DYING YEAR. There is silence on the air, And nothing but the Winter wind Singing its dirge of dire despair For him who, mute, and dumb, and blind, Steps with his locks with sorrow gray Into Oblivion's stream to-day. No kindly hand is stretched to save Or shield him from the dark abyss, In that still land where lies his grave, When he has done for aye with this, This dear old year, so kind and true. Would he could live his life anew. HEAR T ECHOES. j ^ q I've found him very kind to me, And loth am I to have him go ; He taught my lips new songs of glee, And I shall miss him much I know — Shall miss him as the years go by. And grieve, and grieve, that he should die. I hear sweet voices weaving songs To while away his dying hours, But not so mine, my spirit longs To keep this dear old year of ours. But naught, not e'en my love, can stay His footsteps on his homeward way. I sit and weep in dark despair, Unheeding all the gladsome throng Waiting to greet the New Year, where He enters in with smile and song. I only see a yawning grave, And hear the roar of Lethe's wave. I sit amid the festive throng Where merry voices thrill A welcome in a joyful song To him who comes his place to fill ; But on my lip the song is mute, My heart is but a broken lute. take me from the lighted hall, It mocks my sorrow so ; 1 would no festal light should fall Where walks the old year faint and slow. i5d . HEART ECHOES. Alone, where solemn winds walk by, My voice shall sob its last good-by. Perhaps my heart will grow more light, Beneath the New Year's joyful spell ; But ask me not for song to-night. Save the one dirge, a sad farewell. They say he calmly fell asleep ; More calm than I — I can but weep ! THE TWO ANGELS. When Night donned her mantle embroidered with stars, Two angels, astray from the fold, Came down through the beautiful chrysolite bars That lead from the City of Gold. Each wore on his brow a garland of bay, And the eyes of the journeyers twain Were brighter than ever a midsummer day, And soft as the sheen of the rain.. Each, too, in his hand bore a harp fitly strung To evoke all the spirits of praise. And this was the song which the two angels sung As they went on their separate ways : HEART ECnCES. l6l " Hosanna and praise to the Lamb evermore, Who dwells m the pastures of bliss — Who walks 'mong the lilies that border the shore Just over the river from this. *' Believe, O believe, ye sojourners, of earth, In the beautiful truth Jesus told — Which He spake ere He passed to His heavenly- birth. Through the lips of the prophets of old !" And the winds and the stars re-echoed the song, All the earth sang a paean of praise, As the angels a glorious mission upon Went forth on their separate ways. BLIND. Of love my lips but y ester said, Aye, of a truth it now is dead ! Put it from out my sight away — Let it be buried with the day ! But O this morn my heart is strong To sing a gladder, sweeter song ; This morn I say, with spell-bound breath, For love like ours there is no death. 1 62 ^^-^'^ RT E CIIOE S. Now, having put the veil aside Of Arrogance, Distrust, and Pride, Its fair brow bared before my gaze, I see the love of Other Days. The love that would not be gainsaid- The love that we had fancied dead. O we have been so blind, I say, We ne'er loved as we do to-day ! OVER THE RIVER. I WALK on the banks of life's mystical stream, On the banks where the tall aspens shiver ; And being earth-weary, I dream a sweet dream Of the country just over the river. O that country so fair ! O the loved I have there, Safe, safe in Christ's keeping forever ! the soul's perfect bliss when we journey from this To the country just over the river. 1 walk in the paths that they traversed of yore, But they gladden my vision now never. On the silent-oared ferry my loved have passed o'er. To the country just over the river ; And I'm longing to go where the Peace-Lilies blow, Give me rest, O thou kindly Peace-Giver, From this sad land of woe, O my soul, let us go To the country just over the river ! HEART ECHOES. REACHING OUT A HELPING HAND. When we see one who has fallen, Striving bravely to regain Something of our lost esteem, Trying hard to wash the stain Of disgrace from out their garment What more noble thing or grand Can we do than to them kindly Reach an ever-helping hand. Ah, the dear God only knoweth How so hard they may have tried, But so many, O so many. Pass upon the other side ! Cheering words are easy spoken — Ever ours are at command ; Many have been saved for Heaven By a kindly, helping hand. In a most auspicious moment (Else there were no tale to tell), In a moment, when unguarded. They were tempted, and they fell. O the fallen ! they are many ! _ Scattered over the whole land Are the ones whom we might succor With a kindly, helping hand. 163 1 64 ^^^^ ^^ T E CIIOE S. Let us help them, sisters, brothers. Ere the even-tide is nigh ; Let us bravely do to others As we fain would be done by. 'Tis a broad, broad field of labor ; Nobler none, or none more grand ; Even as we hope for mercy, Let us give a helping hand. A WINTER EVENING PICTURE. Upon the Earth's white-shrouded breast The silent feet of Night are prest, And many a wondrous gem Flashes its rare scintillant light Upon our half-bewildered sight, From out her garment's hem. The Moon, drawn in her shining car, Her 'kerchief fastened with a star And edged with golden lace, Half seems in her imperial track To pause the moment, looking back With kindly smiling face. Cloud ships drift slowly 'cross the blue, The signal-lights oft shining through, HEART ECHOES. 165 The lamps the angels light. O fair the picture that I see Hung in the blue dome over me, This beauteous Winter night ! THE BROWN OWL. The brown owl sings, " Too whoo, too whit !" " Too whit, too whoo !" the brown owl sings, As peering the deep darkness through, So lazily he flaps his wings, " Too whit, too whoo !" he loudly sings The while he flaps his mottled wings. Why does he ever question this ? Is there no one to answer him ? What joy, I wonder, does he miss. That all night long upon the limb Of some old tree he sings, " Too whoo !'* The while he peers the darkness through ? " Too whit, too whoo !" I'd answer you, Old owl, if I your meaning guessed ; You should not make so much ado, If I could put your heart to rest- Would I could answer your " Too whoo," O'er which you make so much ado ! 1 66 HEART ECHOES. THE RIVER OF YOUTH. Afar up the river whose tide bore nie here, The beautiful river of Youth, The borders 4vere fair and the waters were clear, And never an echo did fall on my ear, But the voices of Love and of Truth. There are islets of joy that have faded from sight, Like the face of a friend who is dead ; Where the lilies of bliss were blossoming white, An-d the flowers of hope, and the flowers of delight, All about me their sweet incense shed. There were barks Friendship-laden that sailed with my own From my youth's, O, so radiant shore, But safe into Port they have slipped one by one, And I see them no more, for their voyage is done ; O me ! but I see them no more ! There were hands that were reached to me over the tide, Dear hands of the tried and the true, Long years have their clasp to my own been denied ; O dear vanished hands of the true and the tried, 'Tis in vain that mine reaches for you ! HEART ECHOES. 167 But lying before is a beautiful shore Whose splendor no pen can portray ; And there, when the fret of the earth-life is o'er, I shall meet once again with my loved gone before, And my longing be over for aye. RECOMPENSE. O WEARY hands that empty wait To grasp the golden thread of Fate ! O brows, whereon the crown of pain Has Reason's chaplet reft in twain ! feet, that long in briery ways Have walked through grief-beclouded days, Nor found the flowers of Rest that grow To brighten up life's path below ! 1 say in faith be brave to do, The sun will sometime shine for you. Though fate may frown and storms may mock, God sees each lambkin of His flock. No feet that walk His pastures, may In blindness go so far astray But that He sees the wandering one, And some day will reclaim His own. O brothers mine, whose hands are hard With daily toil ! lo, your reward l68 HEART ECHOES. Is sure ! O toiling sisters, often faint Beneath the burden of complaint, Fate's golden thread will sometime weave A golden woof for you, believe. FLOATING DOWN THE RIVER. Floating do^vn Life's rapid stream, Light and shadows o'er me, I am dreaming the old dream Others have before me. Dreaming of the perfect bliss Of the kingdom vernal. When I go away from this To the Land Eternal. Floating down the stream that ends At the City Golden ; Going out to meet the friends Of the days so olden- Bright this earthly land I know, But that one is brighter ; White the lilies that here blow, But the7'e they are whiter. Floating down through sun and shade To the sunset crossing ; But my soul is not afraid On the billows tossing. HEART ECHOES. 169 Reached to me I see a Hand Which will help and guide me ; On the ferry where I stand Is a Form beside me ; On before where I shall tread Is a beacon shining, Lighting up the clouds overhead With a silver lining. Christ to me will be anear — Faithful Friend forever;' What, my soul, hast thou to fear, Floating down the river. THE END. "GOOD BOOKS FOR ALL" Published by S. R. WELLS, 787 Broadway, N. Y. Best Works on these subjects. Eacli covers ground not covered by others. Copies sent by return post, on receipt of price. Please address as above. American Pljrenological Jour- NAL AND Life Illustrated. Devoted to Ethnology, Physiology, Phrenology, Physiognomy. Psychology, Biography, Education, Art, Literature, with Meas- ures to Reform, Elevate and Improve Mankind Physically, Mentally and Spir- itually. Monthly, $3 a year. Ausiuals of Ptirenology and Physiognomy. One yearly i2mo vol- ume. Price 25 cents for the current year. 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