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 1912 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
VIOLETS AND THORNS 
 
 FROM A DELL 
 
 A Collection of Poems 
 
 By DELL HAIR 
 
 I he Policeman Poet 
 
 FOURTH VOLUME 
 First Edition 5000 
 
 Illustrated 
 
 BY BERTON E. HUNTLY 
 
 Toledo's Greatest Artist 
 
 Published by 
 
 THE HAIR-WACKE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 TOLEDO, OHIO 
 

 COPYRIGHTED 
 
 By T>ELL HAIR 
 
 1912 
 
 All rigKis reserved 
 
 ^ /. o 
 
 ^C1.A3J.G906 
 
ti£i 
 
Dell Ihtir, llie Vovi '•('op," \v;is hoiii ol" Scotch parents, near Moi-- 
 rice, Mich., Noveniher 4th, LSTl. Since his birth Hair has led more or 
 less of what may be vulgarly termed the wild and woolly life. His 
 father, Josej)!! Hair, was a blacksmith at a count ly cross-road, his 
 mother, ]\lary Fullei', the daughter of a lawyer at Howell, Mich. l"n- 
 like a brother, who was a student and is now a minister of the gospel, 
 Dell Hair had n(» acijuiring for even a ]>riinary eleinenls of education. 
 Study as he would, he nevei* got away from the foot of his class. Once 
 free from the thral(h»m of the scho(»l i-(»om. little Dell spent most of 
 his time feeding, harnessing and <lriving a huge turtle Avhich he had 
 captured and trained. So weiid was his boyhood that the young 
 rhynu'ster was sonuMimes dubbed "Joe Hair's fool." His intense love 
 for nature early manifested itself in little rhymes — a talent which not 
 unfrecpiently tuined to satire oi- bitterness against those who had de- 
 rided his oddities to his face. Often one who had olfended young Hair 
 found (Ui his door step or another convenient ])lace a cou])let of verse 
 in answei- to the jibes. At the age of twelve the father of Dell Haii* 
 gave up all ho])e of educating his son, and ])ut him to work in a brick 
 yard, where the lad earned a dollar a day. Later he left home and 
 was for a time a choiv boy in the pineries. ^Vhen he returned he was 
 put behind the ]»low, a Avork which he des])ised, and towards which he 
 often vented his emotion by sto])]>ing in the midst of the furrow and 
 jotting down in rhynu^ his hatred for the life. Finally Hair, on one 
 clear Sei>tend)er day, hitched the team securely to the fence, and set 
 out for his home, telling his mother to bring his drum, as he wished 
 to hive some bees that luul alighted near by. The lad, with dium. at 
 once started for Detroit, Mich., and there enlisted in the army. He 
 told the Captain he would like to go where the most danger was. He 
 was sent to Old Fort Sill. Oklahoma, as drummer Itoy for Company 
 "(i" of the Thiiteenth llegiuu'nt of Hifantry. 
 
 Although a favorite with the enlisted men. Hair's great talent for 
 versifying often got him in trouble with his superior otlice^'s. He was 
 well acquainted with the interior of the (Juard House, in which many 
 of the ])oems of his first volume were written. It was Hair's drum that 
 beat "Boots and Saddles" for the Third Cavalry on the border of Mex- 
 ico when that troop set out and captured the notorious Mexican liandit 
 lieina A'^idies. (ieronimo, the renegade chief, has heard that same drum 
 while he was confined in the Cuard House at Fort Sill. 
 
 A giant in stature, and one of the burliest officers in Toledo, Hair 
 would not be easily taken for a poet. Criminals of the worst type- 
 have felt his iron grasp, but the unfortunate women and children who 
 liave come under his notice can testify to the great, soft heart within 
 his rugged breast. To beconu' acquainted with Dell Hair, the Poet 
 Cop, is to become acquainted with the world's greatest poet. 
 
 THF PFBLTSHEE. 
 
Prrfarc 
 
 'Plu' hook of vt'i-sc's, cnlit'cd "\'i(»l('ts aiul Thorns froiu a Dell," has 
 Jill iiitiM-est of its own which will win for it a sympathy deni«'(l io 
 many more pretentions^ volumes. Neither the verses which make up 
 ilie collection nor the nnnit^-ons (Irawinj^s that illnstrate them ai-e the 
 artilicial studies of the schools, but the spontaneous out])ourin<.j of 
 children of natui'e. 
 
 Mr. Dell Hair, the poet, is Merchant I'olice of the city of Toledo, 
 (). The environment of his life is not Parnassus, but the city sidewalk 
 an<l slums with the humdrnni troubles of the ])oor and the lonely. Yet 
 his thoughts have reached out t(» the ideal. The blue-coat and bi'ass 
 buttons, and the petty common]>lace have not fettered the soul. Th»' 
 inner man is always free if he so wills and is capable of freedom. 
 
 I>eside the "mute inolorions Milton" there is his brother superior 
 sinjiinji; softly to himself as he jtatrols the city street and alley. 
 
 The dreams that crowd the imagination and quicken the pulse of 
 those whose thoujiiits ai-e masked and not assumed by the teachers and 
 whose voice leavens only the fellow comiuon uian and the hoiue fireside, 
 liave sui-ely a unique interest. 
 
 The sincere revelation of such a heart is a huuian docuuu'ut foi' 
 iiijes t<» come. 
 
 KEY. FATHER J. T. WACIIOWSKI. 
 
TOO GUOl) TO Ki:i":i\ 
 
 Mr. Printer, I prej^eiit thee 
 
 With 8oine verse cuiiiposed by me — 
 
 Now, ill printing, si)ell correctly. 
 For J leave it all with thee. 
 
 \\'here big' letters may be needed. 
 Kindly place where they belong; 
 
 I have left them here and yonder, 
 
 Some are right, and more are wrong. 
 
 I'criods you'll liiid all over. 
 
 Question marks at every sight; 
 Semicolons — cannot make them — 
 
 Kindly twist till i\V is right. 
 
 I never went to school in summer; 
 
 Name was stricken from the roll ; 
 ^^'ith my dinner and my i»rimer 
 
 \Vas ]»resent at the swimming hole. 
 
 1 never went to school in winter; 
 
 Garments thin winds would me scan; 
 r>oys Aveie always me suoav balling, 
 
 liesides, the teacher was a man. 
 
 Yet. verse with me comes forth incessant. 
 Like the sjuing fi-om mountain to]r. 
 
 While it's effort for some jieojde. 
 It's a task for me to stop. 
 
 Publish not this letter, ]irinter. 
 All would say that Pm a fool; 
 
 That I am, but keep it quiet. 
 For I never went to scliool. 
 
 Always ]»layed the silly truant. 
 And my school days now are fled; 
 
 Keep this secret, ^\v. Printer, 
 I'.uiii this sheet and go ahead. 
 
 11 
 
"Tliis parting will not break my heart.' 
 
 "FAREWELL TO THE PLOW.'' 
 
 IMow — you and I this day must ]»art, 
 
 Nor does it break the poet's heart ; 
 
 We'ye labored, \A(ny, both night and day 
 Eeceiyed no }»raise, and little x>ay ; 
 
 Yon were black when I begun. 
 
 Now you shine like noonday sun. 
 
 Men on the gaze, and from thee go. 
 You seem a ball of fire below ; 
 
 We know the spot where red men lay, 
 
 We heaved their bones, at dawn of day. 
 Many a field we did explore, 
 Plowing a dozen years or more. 
 
 T spent my earnings here and tliei-e, 
 
 And you sent yours for a shear. 
 
 Where mine all went I cannot tell 
 But I always did your errand well. 
 
 To i)lease our masters we did try. 
 
 That, friend i»low — they can't deny. 
 
 But somehow. ])low, you are a shirk. 
 Were you not ])ulled, you would not work. 
 
 12 
 
No iiuni thill's ini\(l«^ of licsli jiiid hone 
 Can follow you 'niongst stump and stone. 
 
 When point ducks down, and handles rear, 
 
 Lest he'd stop and oently swear. 
 I've seen you halt, in twain come traces, 
 The team and I would then change places. 
 
 They'd knock me down and run away 
 
 And Avhere you wei-e. there you would slay 
 But alas, alas, our, race is run 
 And I forgive you all you've done. 
 
 But y<»u must work, hy day or uiglit. 
 
 Or else the poet cannot Avrite. 
 •Tis now, old friend, 1 hid good hye. 
 But can't I list to your re])1y? 
 
 THE BLOW KEBLIES. 
 
 You can, and what I say is true, 
 
 Though I'll not s[>eak so long as you. 
 You never yet did me heguile 
 Although you drank once in a while, 
 
 I trusted you, was heat nay, never, 
 
 And what is more, I'll trust you ever; 
 
 You have some friends of great renown. 
 There are few Avho try to pull you down, 
 
 And were you down, they Avould not stoj), 
 
 Then never take another dro]), 
 I will labor day and night. 
 Give you ample time to write. 
 
 Through mud and water I Avill walhnv. 
 
 But never take another swallow. 
 
 And Avhen you find a loved one dear. 
 And wintry winds are cold and drear. 
 
 When you are making her your bride, 
 
 Bemend)er I'm alone outside. 
 
 POET'S BESFOXSi:. 
 
 Your good advice I'll heed just now. 
 
 ^lay Ood's blessing rest on you, plow. 
 Before I'm numbered with the dead 
 The world will know what tliou hast said. 
 
 To remendier this, I'll ever try. 
 
 Earewell, old plow — Well Dell, good-bye. 
 
 13 
 
THE WKECK OF THE TITAXIC. 
 
 Xot a wave on tlie Atlantic — 
 
 Every star lit in the .skv — 
 All was joy on the Titanic — 
 
 :Xone were dreannn*; death was ni<;h. 
 
 t^oon the crash and all was silent 
 ]n those hours so dark and din; 
 
 Peaceful brine, now mad and violent, 
 Angry waves came rolling in. 
 
 "Lower lite boats," next Avas thundered, 
 
 And no other vessel nigh. 
 "Hon the life belts. Ave have bluudercd. 
 
 Was the Captain's awful cry. 
 
 With the leuipeiature near zero. 
 While the wireless danger waved, 
 
 liruce Ismay, the would-be hero, 
 AVas the first man to be saved. 
 
 All saw death in this disaster. 
 
 Soon the vessel waves Avould hide. 
 Calm and i)eaceful Col. Astor 
 
 Left his millions and his bride. 
 
 ^fany Avives Avith husbands perished 
 Ere all hope of life had floAvn. 
 
 They who long had loved and cherished 
 Preferred grim death to life ab.ne. 
 
 ^Millionaires and many others. 
 When the sea called for its toll, 
 
 Stepped aside for Avives and mothers, 
 God have mercv on their souls. 
 
 u 
 
800NEK Ol{ J.ATKK. 
 
 Soulier or later the time will come, 
 A\'heu the shriek of the fife and roll of the driiiii 
 ^^'ill call from hi.s home, each available man. 
 To lower llie banner of conceited Japan. 
 
 JJecaiifse of her victory conceit it rniis high, 
 
 They boldly i)roclaim they'll conqner or die, 
 
 When she sees onr soldiers, hears the roar of one gun 
 
 "Twill then be a case of die, dog, or run. 
 
 They've upl)raided onr teachers, they've cursed all our laws 
 >\'ithout pritvocation, some day without cause. 
 They'll load their old cannons and ope wide the gates 
 And i)our shot and shell in the I'nited States. 
 
 I'erhaps for a season this tight they'll delay 
 Till their ranks are re-tilled by the boys now at play. 
 Then death shall decide, on sea and on shore, 
 And the sooner it's fought, the soonei- it's o'er. 
 
 There is no time to woriy. or dream of our fate. 
 AVe've got them to lick, either early or late. 
 We should purchase more guns, ammunition and mule. 
 And not stand and dream of dirisfs gohlcn luh'. 
 
 Golden rule is all right, in the sweet time of peace 
 AVhen nation loves nation, and the war howl doth cease, 
 l)ut Avhen shot and shell on your head doth descend. 
 It's mighty ]>oor stutf on which to depend. 
 
 Were I there to tight them. I'd be brave and ])ol(l. 
 My medals Tm sure no one coat c<»uld hold, 
 lUit to take such a journey, I'm a little too fat. 
 So T think 1 will stav in the town where I'm at. 
 
 15 
 
'Over the falls, then awav to the sea' 
 
 WATERS OF :\IINNl':iIAnA. 
 
 Fi-oiii clouds ill the heavens 
 
 To river and rill 
 We tumble in jov 
 
 And travel at will. 
 
 Through woodlands and vallevs, 
 Thronoh city and moor. 
 
 Still oft do we Hnoer 
 And ]»la\" near the shore. 
 
 in 
 
We ol't see j^ieat pleiisure 
 As onward we glide, 
 
 The smile of a groom, 
 The crown of a bride. 
 
 We see merry makers 
 
 In tent and in hall ; 
 We list to their music 
 
 And dance to their call. 
 
 "NA'e see merry children 
 
 All busy at play, 
 Their parents at labor 
 
 Till light fades away. 
 
 We've seen midst the wealthy 
 A grand Christmas night 
 
 The inmates were happy 
 And sang in delight. 
 
 We've oft times seen Avomen 
 AYitli paper and pen 
 
 Monrning and writing 
 Of the treachery of men. 
 
 We've seen weary travelers 
 Lie down in the road. 
 
 And widows and orjdians 
 Witli nnbear-able load. 
 
 We've heard cries of anguish 
 And prayers asked to save 
 
 As somebody's darling 
 ^^'as borne to the grave. 
 
 From nude and the hungry 
 We've oft heard a cry ; 
 
 Been others with millions 
 Pass smilingly by. 
 
 We've seen men and women 
 In beauty and health 
 
 Cursing their Maker, 
 Cause, absence of wealth. 
 
 We've seen Hiose with riches. 
 
 All would be ignored ; 
 They'd start as a l)eggar 
 
 Could health be restored. 
 
A\'ell — we must glide onward, 
 We hear, mighty calls 
 
 That we are now wanted 
 To leap o'er the falls. 
 
 So farewell to the lands 
 As onward we wind, 
 
 For we are most anxious 
 Minnehaha to find. 
 
 Remember this ever, 
 
 As you sow shall you reap, 
 We'll to cataract go 
 
 And make our last leaj>. 
 
 Then oft" to the ocean. 
 To the tune of tra la 
 
 Sang by the sweet waters 
 Of Minnehaha. 
 
 'We tuinbU' at wil 
 
 IS 
 
■'Will Uicv ever I'ctnrn?" 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE SEA. 
 
 Too late for thy prayers. 
 
 Our plannings are done, 
 Thy husband hath ])erished. 
 
 So likewise thy son. 
 They have now closed their eyes 
 
 In death's lastiiiin' slee]'. 
 Tliey are rocked by the billows 
 
 On the breast of tlu' deep. 
 
 T.I 
 
In midst of the tempest 
 
 They prayed, but in vain 
 That they might see home 
 
 And mother again. 
 They prayed with thai anguish 
 
 That Icnoweth no rest 
 For another sweet kiss 
 
 From the babe at the breast. 
 
 Theii* voice was deafened 
 
 To the Father who saves, 
 The wdnd in its fnry 
 
 Sent higher the waves. 
 The strength there was tested 
 
 Of each vessel fonnd; 
 Their boat was fonnd wanting, 
 
 The iiiiiintes were (hownc*!. 
 
 To monrn for tlie lifeless 
 
 ^Inst they who do live, 
 The hand of God taketh, 
 
 The same hand doth give, 
 Tlie same hand to heaven 
 
 Will a worthy sonl guide. 
 Be it king or a fisherman. 
 
 From throne or from tide. 
 
 Alone in thy dwelling 
 
 This night thou shalt weej). 
 The child on thy breat 
 
 Doth peacefully sleei>. 
 To the cause of the heli)less 
 
 They yielded their breath. 
 Like the treachery of men 
 
 So our motto is deatli. 
 
 •JO 
 
All men shall be free" 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 
 
 One liiuidred years ago today, 
 
 In the Lincoln hnt a baby lay. 
 
 Midst Immble walls which Avinds did scan, 
 
 They named the infant Abraham. 
 
 There was little fire and liltle light, 
 lint o'er that dwelling shone that night 
 An emblem which all men can see — 
 Trnth, Love, Light and Liberty. 
 
 As the child grew U]>. he learned to jiray. 
 He sought and fonnd the narrow way; 
 Oft other children him did shun 
 Because of the humble labor done. 
 
 Good books did now beconie liis fad. 
 
 He borrowed all his neighbors had. 
 
 He sought good w(»rks from shore lo shore, 
 
 \W fireplace pored them o'er and o'er. 
 
 21 
 
With wedge and sledge he pounded rails; 
 Was soon made master of the mails; 
 He wrestled too with all the boys, 
 At the town of Salem, Illinois. 
 
 Now he so long the truth had sought, 
 To the side of Douglas he was liiought. 
 A battle they in words did tell 
 Douglas before gi-eat Liucohi fell. 
 
 On and on swept Lincoln's fame. 
 The babe on breast was taught his name. 
 This self-made man, by the candles' glare 
 Was twice elected to the chair. 
 
 No cause for slavery could he see, 
 And knowing all men should be free, 
 Midst planters' threats and southern jeers. 
 His call went forth for volunteers. 
 
 Shall we thus stand, or shall we fall? 
 Then brave men bid adieu to all. 
 With steel and lead, they victory won. 
 The north and south, today are one. 
 
 The name of Liucohi. the uiau s'T made. 
 Though ages roll, shall never fade, 
 Nor will his labors ever die. 
 But like the sun in a cloudless sky 
 Will shine forever. 
 
ELEGY WKITTEN IN THE FOKT SILL GUAED ITorSi:. O. 
 
 All wrapt in darkiiess sleeps tlu' world, 
 
 And in the cell wherein 1 lay 
 All light, all peace tonight is furled. 
 
 The paint cnp fadeth not away. 
 
 The thrush has stilled his nieri-y song, 
 
 The beetle too has taken flight, 
 The screech owl to her nest has gone, 
 
 r.nts coiuiilaiii of the starless night. 
 
 Covotes scream on ^Medicine lawn. 
 
 For they with terror this night are stirre<l. 
 
 They fear their sight forever gone 
 
 And one is lost from the ])rowling herd. 
 
 The gar lies silent in his nest. 
 
 The ser])ent too sleeps sonnd in coil. 
 
 No more the eagle thinks he's blest. 
 
 His sight expires that l<mg was loyal. 
 
 Prairie dogs imagining harm. 
 
 Place sentinels on each lot. 
 At the rattlers hiss they bark alarm. 
 
 Or at wild boars' loggy trot. 
 
 The doe tonight is sleeping sonnd. 
 
 Till morn she need not take her flight, 
 
 She'll not be sought by any hound. 
 Here she's thankful for the night. 
 
 At the red man's city far away. 
 
 Where quietly sleep the hosts, 
 The ring of tom-toms ])laiuly say 
 
 Depart ye, every ghost. 
 
 The moon said light, but clouds restraint. 
 
 Now still of darkness reigns. 
 Mine ears receive the tongue's com])laint 
 
 So weary of my chains. 
 
 My ofticers I now disdain. 
 
 Their laws I did rebel. 
 Now centipedes with me com])lain 
 
 Of the moiddv dismal cell. 
 
Here's a hreatli fruiii a ilowered tield; 
 
 I taste its sweet perfume; 
 I hear a whisper, this I yield, 
 
 Yet none know where Ave bloom. 
 
 Kow a key turns in my cell, 
 
 They wonder if I've tied; 
 I could as easily flee from hell, 
 
 The tomb if I were dead. 
 
 On the morn I'll be unbound. 
 
 To bury a comrade brave. 
 Who after years down here has found 
 
 Sweet rest beycuid tlie <i;rav('. 
 
 Now I hear among the stars 
 
 The voice of her that's go'ne; 
 
 I hear an echo on the bars, 
 
 Seems mingled Avith her song. 
 
 She Avhom I loA'ed lies in the tomb, 
 
 Her smile I noAV can see; 
 God loved this bud and called her home; 
 
 This broke a licait for me. 
 
 Darker, darker groAvs my Avay, 
 
 The breezes ceased, the song is done 
 The music too has flown away; 
 
 The clock above is tolling one. 
 
 My Aveary lids begin to meet. 
 Objects come and pass aAvay, 
 
 Now I'm falling in a sleep, 
 
 I must vield, I'm gone till daA'. 
 
 ■j-i 
 
//.■ 
 
 
 "To a bt'ttcr world" 
 
 LIFE'S KEVERIE. 
 
 IJeyoud tlie river rest our loved ones, 
 YouiiL*- and old, the gay and fair. 
 
 Like llie dew drops of Ihe morning. 
 That qnickly vanish into air. 
 
 We learn to love, we learn to cherish. 
 
 Tlu'n death onr joy tnrns to gloom 
 The many lii)s that spoke so kin<lly 
 
 Xow are silent in the tomb. 
 
The 8Aveet, sweet iiieniory of our childliood, 
 Will ell lor them doth make ii8 yearn. 
 
 Then is it strange we weep in silence 
 As tlieir bones to dnst return? 
 
 Faces once full round and smiling 
 
 Are furrowed, withered, pale and wan ; 
 
 As seasons change the blush of roses, 
 So doth time the face of man. 
 
 Time doth heal man's care and s<»rrow; 
 
 Time leads all to realms above; 
 The hardest task for Time to conquer 
 
 Is to kill a mortal's love. 
 
 Souls of loved ones long departed 
 
 In fancy over there we see. 
 Life's summer o'er, Ave see our childien 
 
 Weep for the dead as now do Ave. 
 
 !Man builds (lomcs Avhich near the heavens, 
 Man beloAV the beasts can fall ; 
 
 Mun rides all things in creation. 
 But death is leveler of us all. 
 
 Many a soul is marked for heaven 
 Which the ]»ath of sorroAv Irod; 
 
 They Avho glory in great riches 
 Care not for the love of God. 
 
 Good and brave the lieart then beateth 
 Spite of trials and earthly scorns; 
 
 Many are the buds that open. 
 
 Though concealed by piercing thorns. 
 
 He Avhom poverty distresseth 
 
 Needs not (piile discouraged be; 
 
 The stream Avhose current is unnoticed 
 Steadily moves on toAvard the sea. 
 
 The fool Avill scofl" Avhile brother suffeis; 
 
 From Aveary lids come many tears ; 
 The harp Avhose music is the SAA'eetest 
 
 Is but a pain for many ears. 
 26 
 
I^onii' lives deceit in nil Ul'e's i»;illi\v;iys ; 
 
 Tt (loth reign llnouglioiil the lands, 
 And many erstwhile good and railhful 
 
 Have fallen jn-ostrate at its hands. 
 
 Evil-doers, anon T^lie.v linger, 
 
 Born to rule, thongh not on high. 
 
 The rose Avhose fragrance is Ihe sweetest 
 Is lirst that's phicked and first to die. 
 
 The vnlgar tongne tliat never tireth 
 
 Cai-es little for tlie liaiiii that's doiu'; 
 
 The smallest clond lliat dots the heavens 
 Can mar the s]»lendor of the snn. 
 
 Midst Life's scolfers comes a si i anger. 
 
 Clothed in beanty as a bride; 
 As noxions verdnre cloaks a lily. 
 So 1hey his beanty strive 1o hide. 
 
 The Chrislian leaves his work nntinislied 
 In other hands to take his tlighl ; 
 
 So mnst the glorions snn of evening 
 Trnst Earth's beanty nnto night. 
 
 The nnborn shall yet work wondeis; 
 
 We now sow that they may rea]t. 
 Preeions is the ])earl and amber 
 
 That lies bnried in the deep. 
 
 Of all creation ^Nfan is highest : 
 Too often selfishness his goal ; 
 
 He may prosjter, he mnst perish. 
 
 And trnst his ^Faker with his soul. 
 
HEK (UfAllGES UNPrvONEX. 
 
 When women try to give ns tips, 
 The deadly germs dwell on oiii' lips, 
 And she no longer cares for bliss, 
 That man d<ni't live that she Avonld kiss. 
 
 Please list to me: I'm never ill. 
 T don't know Avhen T took a ]»ill ; 
 Always feeling blithe and gay. 
 ]\ry song's been heard a mile away. 
 
 I fear no man that walks the road, 
 A ton for me is an easy load ; 
 To catch a thief I never missed — 
 These are the women T have kissed. 
 
 I've kissed women yonng and old. 
 Women loving, women cold. 
 Women bald and those with hair. 
 Women dark and Avomen fair. 
 
 AVomen yellow, women red, 
 t^ome were well, some sick in bed. 
 Girls in hobbles, girls in jiants — 
 All I ask is half a chance. 
 
 Women sonr, women sweet, 
 Some had bnnions on their feet. 
 Some were married, men away, 
 Others strolling for the day. 
 
 Women Innnble, women prond. 
 Some conld scarcely speak aloud. 
 Others sorting ont their text. 
 Kissed one day and died the next. 
 
 Women large and women small, 
 Women short and women tall. 
 Women poor, some had the gold. 
 Some kept the secret, others told. 
 
 I've kissed Avomen by the score, 
 No man ere dared to kiss before, 
 Gonty annts in fall or May— 
 I've never seen an nnwell day. 
 
 The tiade T learned when but a boy. 
 And its a job I mncli enjoy; 
 She Avho calls man "Bacteria" slob 
 Can find no one to do the job. 
 
 2S 
 
A SOLDIER'S FAREWELL. 
 
 Oh sweet Rhillopina, the pride of this hiiul, 
 
 I cau say Avhat I please, for you can t uu.lerstaud. 
 
 Your form is so perfect— like a raven yonr hair; 
 If I e'er saw yonr etpial I cannot tell where. 
 
 Peri.etnal sunshine and rose-scented air 
 
 Is a cure I've learned for ill-health and care. 
 
 Oh how I do love you 1 and how 1 do wish 
 That basket held me instead of the hsh. 
 
 Away from mv loved ones, my kindred, my all, 
 i left them behind to answer the call. 
 
 I hope That thv memorv me lonj>-.will maintain. 
 
 Farewell, native maiden. I may meet thee ao-ain. 
 20 
 
^'l^fffcyr''^'*^ W^ "■ - ^^ 
 
 
 -J|^88^al2 ^^^B^^^''-^hH^ 
 
 
 
 
 "That's mv lover's voice' 
 
 30 
 
MY LOVEirS VOICE. 
 
 I hear luj lover's voice, 
 
 I hear him chant his song; 
 
 His notes upon the water 
 lie-echo Un\d and lonji. 
 
 Did he know tliat here I listened 
 
 To him above them all, 
 He'd surely come to meet me, 
 
 I soon would hear his call. 
 
 Were there no love, no sunshine 
 Would thrill ni}' throbbing heart, 
 
 I'll be true to him while living. 
 In death we'll never part. 
 
 Then we'll be happy hunters 
 
 Midst buffalos galore. 
 We'll join in the chorus 
 
 Of our kindred gone before. 
 
WHEN THE SECOND CALL WAS MADE. 
 
 Peace hath not retuiiied, tlie War Dogs are growling, 
 The Bine Coats will snrely the victory gain. 
 
 I'll think of thee, d-.'arie, when cannons are howling 
 Their tongues spit fire, lead, death and j»ain. 
 
 One kiss and I'm off to the smoked fields of battle 
 Where bright sabres drij) with gore of brave men, 
 
 And bleached skulls together in trenches will lattle, 
 And slaves will all be free beings again. 
 
 If I return not. I died for Ohl Cloiy; 
 
 If unmarked be my giave. I pray thee not mourn, 
 ril not be alone when uiauglcd and gory. 
 
 For others will Avake at the blast of the horn. 
 
 DEAKIE'S UEPLY. 
 
 Farewell I Far('\\cl] ! Co wilh thee (Jod's blessing. 
 He giveth much joy, and taketh away. 
 
 This may be the last fond earthly caressing. 
 
 Goodbye, Cod spare you. and watch all the way. 
 
"What a magazine." 
 
 MY FIRST BALL. 
 
 When I Avas a boy I cried for a ball, 
 No substitute offered Avonld ansAver at all. 
 My parents were poor to such an extent 
 It took all the money to live and pay rent. 
 
 One day an old friend woke me from my naj>. 
 
 Said he: "In yon tield, there's a skunk in my trap. 
 
 Its fur is now good — it's late in the fall." 
 
 ''I'll kill him," said I, "trade his pelt for a ball." 
 
 I heard it related one should Avithout fail 
 
 If fighting a skunk first take hold his tail, 
 
 His strength would diminish, he to rest would re|)air; 
 
 Not unlike unto Samson when they chopped off his hair. 
 
 T approached without sound, as I did from my goal. 
 His tail was outside, his head in the hole. 
 Said T: "Not in vain did T uuike this long Iriji." 
 And onto his tail I fastened my gri]>. 
 
 Now, Mr. Skunk, you have no defense, 
 I'll have a fine ball — you'll pay the expense. 
 That vile fetid li()uid that teems from your trail 
 Will remain undisturbed while I hold to your tail. 
 
 34 
 
I can use yoiii- nice fur, I can sell your tine fat. 
 Then, Biff! Bang! Bing! Away went my hat. 
 Another long spray took me by surprise 
 Before I could wink he had charged my two eyes. 
 
 1 held to my hold hut turned t<» the rear; 
 
 He aimed his injector straight for my ear. 
 
 He tried by all means my j)resence to rout, 
 
 While I waited and prayed that his powder give out. 
 
 Shall I stand like a soldier or cowardly flunk? 
 My playing base ball depends on this skunk. 
 Pain, tears and Hades by me were now seen, 
 How long, thought I, is the skunk's magazine? 
 
 Said I: '^It's all over, to die is my lot, 
 The harder I pulled, the hotter it got. 
 "Cease tiring/" said I, "or death is my doom." 
 I again was charged with that lasting perfume. 
 
 ''See here, Mr. Skunk, I'm not far from dead, 
 I've enough of this end; now I'll tackle your head." 
 Midst tears, complete deafness, a sigh and a groan, 
 I mashed his skull in with a club and a stone. 
 
 Just before dying, for fear I'd forget 
 His presence when living, I another charge met. 
 I met you, I fought you, not once did I funk ; 
 On feeling, 1 found 'twas off with the skunk. 
 
 Soon I, with my victim, was plodding my way 
 Back to the cot to hear what they'd say; 
 They advised me abscond from the presence of all. 
 But I bought with that skunk that much wanted bal 
 

 
 PRtPARED Paints, j 
 
 WHITEANDCQLOiEiEiiSi 
 
 FIFTEENTH STREET l^EFOKE SCKAPEI) HY PI NKHI:AD. 
 
 I plowed it and I dragjjed it, 
 Held scraper nif>ht and da.v : 
 
 I drove a pair of cripples, 
 One black and one a bay. 
 
 Was paid a mite for wages 
 This verv line explains: 
 
 T was not paid from taxes, 
 ]Mc paid me for my brains. 
 
 No more will I hold scraper 
 Or on thornbnsh sip my Rio. 
 
 I'm now a tax-paid bliibber 
 At Toledo, In Ohio. 
 
 30 
 
THE POET OX THE FAini. 
 
 When iiiiilit is coiiic, winds sini; about. 
 Few eows are stalled and lew are ont. 
 To save lew stej)s is now my ]tlot. 
 IMaylte I'll milk and ninybe not. 
 Tf from llie skies ((dd wind descends 
 I may lirin.^- wood. Ilial all dc'])ends; 
 When fair July and snn doth meet 
 I'd filadly AA'ork hnt for the lu^at. 
 And when the <ilorions snn is Hed 
 'Tis time the honest were in bed. 
 
 I sometimes plow, I sometimes sow, 
 Sit on the fence and watch ^^•eeds i^row 
 I sat in sand till I was bnrned 
 And fi-om the ant no lesson learned. 
 
 My wife thonn^h fiail, cried out it's sad, 
 (111, that mv bov won't be like dad. 
 
THE FAKMEK ON TFU-: FAKM. 
 
 When iii«»lit is coine and clioics ;irt' done 
 
 I'll shiniber on till i-lsinj> snn 
 
 Shall kiss the ejuth and every brow. 
 Then I'll away to field with }dow; 
 
 I'll tnrn the soil, I'll jmll the weeds, 
 
 I'll harrow then and scatter seeds, 
 
 I'll then reverse with greater pains. 
 Then Mateli the elonds for many rains. 
 
 At harvest I'll uo forth to reap; 
 
 I'll scarcely then take time to sleep. 
 
 With crops secnre, my wife and bairns 
 Rejoice, no famine then returns. 
 
 08 
 
"On us the sun is going down" 
 
 ON THE SANTE FE TKAIL. 
 
 How Avell I reuieinber the time, l.nuiio. 
 When YOU were my beautiful l)iide, 
 
 I tlie happiest boy on tlie plain. Laurie, 
 ^\\ heart was (>\*rti()win,u- \\illi i;ri(](\ 
 
 I plucked the rose in the breeze, Laurie, 
 
 To me you were then just as fair. 
 When its frajirance we shared in the breeze, Laurie, 
 
 I twined it alone in vour hair. 
 
 39 
 
The pecans fell close at our feet, Laurie, 
 The nip^htiiiji'ale Avarbled his tune; 
 
 On the bridge at twilight we'd meet, Laurie, 
 And talk of the beauties of June. 
 
 We watched the rat at its i>la.v, I>aurie, 
 As we sat by the clear, limpid rill ; 
 
 How little I thought of today, Laurie, 
 As I gazed on you, sweetest Clilj. 
 
 You read me the news in the shade, Laurie, 
 Your smile drove all troubles away. 
 
 Like the beautiful rose thou didst fade, Laurie, 
 And white are vour locks, dear, today. 
 
 "Wo looked for water beyond" 
 
 O'er the Saute I-'c Tuiil we would ride, Laurie, 
 
 And look foi- waters beyond. 
 My face in the sti-eam T would hide, Laurie, 
 
 As the spring to uiy thirst did r^'spond. 
 
 40 
 
We erected Ihe crosses that fell, r>auiie. 
 
 On the spots where heroes Avere slain. 
 Oft rattlers in cactus would tell, Lanrie, 
 
 One danjier that linked on the plain. 
 
 We passed the coach with its mail, Laurie, 
 
 We greeted the driver with hand. 
 Oft Kedmen would follow our trail, Laurie, 
 
 Our capture and murder was planned. 
 
 Your aim with the rope was so true, Laurie, 
 For upon the plains you were born; 
 
 Your skill would be watched by the crew, Laurie, 
 As the steer plowed the sod witli his horn. 
 
 But our days of roping are o'er, Laurie, 
 And white is our once raven brow; 
 
 As ever, your smile I adore, Laurie, 
 
 Though traced by time's motored plow. 
 
 Soon this clay in the grave will be laid, Laurie, 
 In the promise of life let us trust; 
 
 For peace with our Maker is made, Laurie, 
 And sweet is the sleep of the just. 
 
 41 
 
(Lion) "I guess I'll go, too" 
 
 TED IN THE JUKGLE8. 
 
 Here comes Ted with powder and lead, 
 We must vamose or be numbered as dead ; 
 Our fathers, our mother>s, our kindred have fell ; 
 Our peaceful haunts he has turned into hell. 
 
 Our rights were supreme to conquer our theme. 
 We fought for years in the sun's brightest gleam, 
 We mastered this land, protected the stork, 
 Our skins are now wanted in little New York. 
 
 We've caused deathly moans, we've slept on the bones 
 Of natives who sought us Avith axes and stones. 
 An invader is come, wlio masteis our land; 
 Not a hair on his head did we ever see stand. 
 
 The tiger turns pale when Ted's on his trail. 
 
 The brave rhinoceios shows hut his tail ; 
 
 African monsters will rejoice in throngs 
 
 When he's home fighting Spaniards where he belongs. 
 
 42 
 
THE BABY WE I.OVE. 
 
 This is the babe whom deiuly we hne, 
 
 Sent to our home by the angels above. 
 
 Guarded by hands and a true mother's prayer, 
 
 We have brought her to this with abundance of care. 
 
 When I think of the past and the cliange she has brought 
 
 My appetite's gone for which I once sought, 
 
 Oft in my anger on her I have smiled; 
 
 We thank Thee, Oh God, for. the love of our child. 
 
 4.3 
 
'This note is duo." 
 
 44 
 
■THE BANKKi: AND Till: UAIH)." 
 
 Your note is due, we've waited louj;-. 
 
 Our patience all have lied, 
 We'll sue you and a judgment take, 
 
 'Twill live when you are dead. 
 
 We've asked of thee, by word and pen, 
 
 Our kindness you ignore, 
 Now we've resolved to sue this note. 
 
 And beg of thee no more. 
 
 Your promise we regard as naught. 
 
 Your voice becomes immune, 
 "Tis April, and you said you'd pay 
 
 A year ago last June. 
 
 You for the common peaple stand, 
 
 Yea. unions you uphold ; 
 We'll take the coal that thou wouldn't burn 
 
 And leave thee in the cold. 
 
 My note is due, that's nothing strange. 
 
 And, sir, I cannot pay. 
 There's been a score beside youiself. 
 
 With that same old gag today. 
 
 I saw men reap a harvest, sir, 
 
 I ventured, I did fail ; 
 The law reads this — it's not a crime 
 
 For which men go to jail. 
 
 That you're angry, sir, I'm well aware, 
 
 I your patience did betray ; 
 This face of mine can make more debts 
 
 Than these hands can ever pay. 
 
 T see upon your angry brow 
 
 A look of wrath and scorn : 
 A mortgaged roof has sheltered me 
 
 ii^ince the day that T was born. 
 
 My father was a blacksmith, sir — 
 
 In Bradstreet not enrolled. 
 He died and left the family 
 
 With verv little gold. 
 
 -1.-. 
 
And I was called Tlie droiu*, sir, 
 
 Jiy many wiio were wise, 
 I drained the tiij) when very voun*;. 
 
 Hard work T did despise. 
 
 One day I found a girl, sir, 
 
 \Ylio Avas good and kind to me; 
 
 She si)urned me not tV»r drinking — 
 I was suited to a 'i\ 
 
 She asked me to her dwelling, 
 
 Many yisits I did i>ay, 
 We at last were married 
 
 On a cold Thanksgiying day. 
 
 I still patronized llie breweries, 
 A saloon coidd hardly pass; 
 
 I always sought and found the man 
 Who sold the biggest glass. 
 
 One day there came a baby. 
 Whom I loye more than life; 
 
 I put the brakes on slightly; 
 Gaye my appetite the knife. 
 
 I neyer starye my family, 
 
 My tongue they did not dread; 
 
 When baby talked she prayed for me. 
 Whene'er she went to bed. 
 
 But I was not so godly; 
 
 At prayer I did not go; 
 I always juaise my Maker 
 
 With fiddle and banjo. 
 
 In years I saw the folly, sir, 
 And drinking I did stop; 
 
 For all the wealth that you possess 
 I would not touch a drop. 
 
 Babe says her jtrayers were answered. 
 
 And this she loved to tell, 
 That aching head that once T had 
 
 Is clear as any bell. 
 
 40 
 
I have no education, 
 
 I dttn't need it in ni.v l)i/; 
 
 From many tlH)u<i;h1s that [»ass me, 
 I grasp the best there is. 
 
 I always could write verses, 
 
 And this 1 do enjoy; 
 I wrote epitaphs for chickens 
 
 When but a tiny boy. 
 
 They always came when needed 
 
 And why I can't explain ; 
 It's no task upon the muscles, 
 
 No strain upon the brain. 
 
 I'm not a financier — 
 
 I never had the time 
 For planning- and for scheming 
 
 How to make another dime. 
 
 I try to be a man, sir. 
 
 To pay that is my text ; 
 If I can't pay you this year, 
 
 I'll try and settle next. 
 
 You're not the meanest man on earth. 
 There's those whom hell doth seek; 
 
 It's he who offers women 
 One seventy-five per week. 
 
 They in the great hereafter 
 
 Will be summoned to the throne, 
 
 For sins cast on another's soul 
 Will surely lose their own. 
 
 Good-bye, my nickel grabber. 
 
 Don't die with fits and cramjts ; 
 
 If you insist on dunning 
 I'll furnish you with stamps. 
 
 47 
 
THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND. 
 
 There are men in this conntiy much wiser than T ; 
 
 To solve these problems I did many times try ; 
 So doomed to defeat, I a listener stand 
 
 While yon answer the qnestions I don't understand. 
 
 The man is arrested who nnlawfnlly takes bread, 
 
 Thonjih his family is starving*-, to the Tombs he is led. 
 
 While tlie for<>er, bank-wrecker, \\alk hand in hand. 
 
 And are cleared at first trial. This I don't understand. 
 
 The lawyer will rise to the jury and ]dead. 
 
 Show cause why the murderer and thief should be freed. 
 If wealth's not forthciunino', it is raised by a band. 
 
 The asylum for him. This I don't understand. 
 
 For fifteen long years man goes to the }>en 
 
 When he is found guilty of stealing one hen. 
 
 He who killed a policeman receives a reprimand. 
 
 And is five years imprisoned. This T don't understand. 
 
 How men of intelligence can go to the polls 
 
 To express their judgment, the ballot unrolls. 
 
 After years of bunk and injustice have scanned, 
 
 Elects an ass for a MayiU'. This I don't undvrstand. 
 
 Old John I). i»ossesses a mountain of gold. 
 
 While widows and orphans g(» hungry and cold. 
 
 By him fuel and light are advanced through the land. 
 
 Why he ])rays to his ^lakef. Tliis I dcm't understand. 
 
 The soldier will fight in the worst of the fray. 
 
 While the faithful at home for his welfare doth jnay. 
 
 Shoulder stra]is in no danger, thiough the trumjt gives command. 
 Yet receives all the credit. This T don't understand. 
 
 Woman, though lovely, oft judgment doth lack. 
 
 Her cheeks they are jtainted ; ]»ads on her back. 
 How she can improve what our Maker halh ]»lanned. 
 
 With sawdust and powder. This 1 don't undersland. 
 
 A man may have brains, be entitled to crown, 
 
 But if money is lacking, like a dog he lies down. 
 
 Wealth buys all but life in this great world so grand. 
 Why for this jjlans are lacking, I don't understand. 
 
 If y(»u answer my (juestions and answer them now. 
 In humble submissi<m to your wisdom I'll bow. 
 
 To help here each other is thy Father's command. 
 Kindly answer the (piestions I don't understand. 
 
 48 
 
WELCOME, G. A. K. 
 
 We have looked for thee htiig, Ave ii,reet thee with cheer. 
 We displayed our banners as the hours drew near. 
 Some hand has jtlanted in our midst near and far. 
 This emblem in tiowers, "Welcome, O. A. 11/' 
 
 Ye heroes who fought this I'nicm to save. 
 
 Ye who boldly proclaimed but one flag shall wave. 
 
 Ye Avho from wife and cliildren once tied, 
 
 Shall be honored while living and we})! for when dead. 
 
 Ye who have heard the grim roar uf the gun, 
 Ye who struggled and the victory won. 
 Ye who the banner to the winds did display. 
 Are welcome, thrice welcome, in Toledo today. 
 
 While assembled in joy, remend)er llie dead. 
 Who among strangers fought and gallantly bK'd. 
 Brother fought brother, dealing death all the way. 
 Time turned War to joy, friends are Blue and the Cray 
 
 Our doors stand ajar; you are welcome to all — 
 We're proud of the heroes Avho answered the call. 
 We love you for others, Ave've no love to spare. 
 AVe trust that we also your great love nuiy share. 
 
 This Golden Rule craze of c<»urse is a farce; 
 Miiyorality timber at ]>resent is scarce. 
 
 That the Chief is still living, a mystery remains; 
 He is one ton of fat to a half ounce of brains. 
 
 49 
 
"Owls tell no tales' 
 
HEK Tinr TO THE WELL. 
 
 "Well, the nerve of thee, stiaiijier, I ne'er .saw before; 
 Yon'd a fair maiden shock, don't squeeze me no more, 
 For shonld I groAV angry, mother I'd tell 
 What happened to me on llial liip to the well. 
 
 "Why, stranger, I'll scream, I'm so tilled with fear. 
 Yet I think it's so foolish, there's nobody near. 
 I did scream once in a dark, lonel.v lane; 
 A neighbor boy kissed me, and nobody came. 
 
 "What! You giye me a smack. Will it cure my scowl? 
 There's two that will see you — the bat and the owl. 
 The sun is in hiding — you moye like a snail — 
 The man in the moon neyer yet told a tale. 
 
 "Well. Avho are you, stranger, and wliat is your name? 
 Burt Huntley, the artist, from Toledo you came. 
 Y"ou work for Dell Hair, his calling you serve. 
 Then to me you're no stranger — no wonder you've nerve!" 
 

 
 , 
 
 • 
 
 ^%t^ 
 
 
 
 ^fe- 
 
 . 
 
 ^lg^ 
 
 /j^fl^^ 
 
 JHk'H 
 
 ^iA 
 
 ^jglp.,.. ''^mm^m..-^ 
 
 "Fools are never mayors; 
 
ANYTHIN*; FOJi MAYOR. 
 
 When I am Mavoi-, deai-ie, 
 
 You shall have a hat. 
 At present I'm a lawyer. 
 
 But receive no cash tor lliat. 
 
 Folks come into my office; 
 
 They think 1 am insane. 
 They gaze upon my prolile, 
 
 Then walk right out again. 
 
 Y'et I will be a Mayor; 
 
 Then watch and yon will see — 
 ril steer a big ice-breaker 
 
 Through the treacherous old Maumee. 
 
 I then sent my sweet jiicture 
 
 Across the raging main 
 With one gold ^Vamba button 
 
 To the king and queen of Spain. 
 
 But fools are never Mayors — 
 They don't fall heir, like a king. 
 
 AA'ell, I'm going to Toledo; 
 They elect there anything. 
 
 53 
 
HIS CKEDIT XO GOOD. 
 
 J would like a pair of bie'eches, Johnny Flynn, 
 But I'm minus of the liches, Jolniny Flynn. 
 
 1 can pay a dime today — 
 
 I'll be back the tir.st of .May — 
 Can I take tlie i)ants away, -Johnny Flynn? 
 
 Oh, the seat is ont of these, Johnny Flynn, 
 I can feel the slightest breeze, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 If snowflakes should begin. 
 
 They would fall upon bare skin; 
 I hope no girl comes in, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 Are shirts retailed in here, Johnny P'lyun? 
 
 1 have one I hold most dear, Johnny Flynn. 
 ()ld maids at me have grinned, 
 Since the tiul's gone with the wind; 
 
 For years 1 kejjt it pinned, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 Do you handle derby hats, Johnny Flynn? 
 One was swallowed by the rats, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 I had one I called my own, 
 
 Eoys nmshed it with a stone. 
 They have gone to parts unknown, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 I read it in the News, J<»hnny Flynn, 
 You sold second-handed shoes, Johnny Flynn. 
 These ui)pers served me well, 
 . But the soles have gone to hell — • 
 No lie to you I tell, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 This coat is not my own. Johnny Flynn; 
 My socks would stand alone, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 Should zero weather land. 
 
 Its pangs I could not stand — 
 To live till Spring I've planned, Johnny Flynn. 
 
 What! you say my word is void, Johnny Flynn? 
 And by me you've been annoyed, Johnny Flynn? 
 
 If new clothes you won't advance. 
 
 On the road I'll take a <hance. 
 With no seat in uiy ]iants, J<»hnuy Flynn. 
 
MY DKrNKKN IMLOT. 
 
 In Oklahoma's distant land, 
 
 For many years I took my stand; 
 
 Connected with the boys most true. 
 
 Donning there a suit of blue. 
 
 My friend and I once missed the roll, 
 
 We filled a basket for a stroll; 
 
 We crossed both ditch and mighty ridge, 
 
 And last we came to ^ledicine Bridge. 
 
 Now Medicine Kiver, understand, 
 
 Is many feet below the land. 
 
 My friend did now permission ask 
 
 To ope the larger smiling flask. 
 
 He drank — I thought he'd never stoi> — 
 
 T would not touch a single drop. 
 
 My burden now was lighter nuule; 
 
 He called a halt upon the grade. 
 
 And here he drank till sun was low. 
 
 At last we thought 'twas time to go. 
 
 I had no dread of coming night ; 
 
 Besides, the basket now was light. 
 
 Darkness soon ])ievailed o'er land; 
 
 "Twas hard for my good ])al to stand; 
 
 We thought it best no more to roam. 
 
 And started, as we supposed, for home. 
 
 We turned around to wander back. 
 
 But somehow siiuck a different track. 
 
 We walked a rock upon a ridge. 
 
 Of course we thought it was the bridge. 
 
 We hurried on at breakneck ])itch; 
 
 At last Ave reached a mammoth ditcli. 
 
 He made a run, tlie ditch to leaj); 
 
 I followed him, being half asleep; 
 
 Down, down and down, we took a drop, 
 
 He underneath and I on top. 
 
 Now of my back I made a bier. 
 
 For the hospital tried to steer — 
 
 Think not, dear reader, I was tight. 
 
 Though I did think I saw a light. 
 
 Then came a ghost in a snowy shroud : 
 
 "Drop him!" called a voice htud. 
 
 .55 
 
Wlieii bank was scaled, I laised iny head 
 And yelled at him, "Jack, are you dead?'' 
 "Yes, I am dead; I am, forsooth. "' 
 Of course I knew 'twas not the truth. 
 The Post by me could not be found ; 
 I woke next morn in the burying ground. 
 I viewed my clothes, I felt my face; 
 Said. "Well, I'm in the |)roi)er place." 
 .lust then there came along a guard 
 Who further jtrogress from me barred : 
 "Halt!" now quoth he, with ill bid zest, 
 And placed poor me under arrest. 
 ''This instant you'll march back to Sill, 
 For you are wanted at the mill." 
 Escape there was not use to try, 
 'Twas face Old Daggett with a sigh. 
 "You were drunk," and tlu^n he hollers, 
 "Forty davs and fortv dollars!" 
 
 5G 
 
MY EXPERIENCE AS A SOLDIER. 
 
 When but a lad I lived at home, 
 
 In the bi'ick cot on the hill ; 
 It had long' been n\\ desire to roam 
 
 Since I'd heard <'»f old Fort Sill. 
 
 Thns years found me a man in size, 
 
 No more conld I resist ; 
 Little did Father realize 
 
 One of nineteen e(mld enlist. 
 
 Bnt I soon became a soldier. 
 
 Least a cooler of ]'>oor Rio ; 
 Well — term it a fish-ball monlder, 
 
 At Columbus in Ohio. 
 
 I at first was sim})l.v baited ; 
 
 Still all was Avell Avith me. 
 Till I was vaccinated 
 
 And assigned to Comjtany "C' 
 
 I first wrote out a butter bill, 
 
 For joking is their mission; 
 When T asked, was landed in the mill, 
 
 For bayonet ammunition. 
 
 "Hold to your boots, they're blowing taps," 
 
 A veteran said to me. 
 "Salute your Corporal, then perhaps 
 
 They'll give you reveille." 
 
 TJiere were now 1\vo more to ytity. 
 
 One was ]\[ur])liy, so he said : 
 The other Ellis Fetty— 
 
 Three more cowards never tread. 
 
 We made our ap])lications. 
 
 Thinking 'twould be best; 
 They put us (»n full rations 
 
 And sent us way out west. 
 
 Of Boston beans we had three cans. 
 
 To last us all the way; 
 Hard tack made by our own hands. 
 
 Coffee, one 'up ])er day. 
 
Well, Fetty became excited 
 
 F])on this hideous tour. 
 And from the train alij^hted 
 
 Running sixly miles jier hour. 
 
 We now mourned our dear fiiend's fate. 
 
 Also expressed with pity 
 }lis many deeds, from moin till late 
 
 Till we struck Kansas City. 
 
 Murphy in<lul<;ed (]uile freely here, 
 ^'ot thinking his name inserted 
 
 On many a sheet before and rear, 
 And at this ])oint deserted. 
 
 I went alone unto the end; 
 
 Old Daggett there was waiting; 
 I told the tale without a bend, 
 
 I heard liis molars grating. 
 
 That fool, he did upbraid me; 
 
 Oh. how he cursed and swore! 
 For a month no cash was ])aid me, 
 
 But I'll meet him on that shore. 
 
 
 ^ — " 
 
 58 
 
WOMAN'S CKEATJON. 
 
 Man's uanglit but diisl, own this we must; 
 
 We'd deny it if we could. 
 God formed the sand, told him to stand, 
 
 And then pi-ononnced him good. 
 
 Js'ot strange to say, anotlun- day 
 
 He did not feel rejtaid. 
 For all He wronght. and then He thought 
 
 Improvements might he made. 
 
 So by sur]»rise. He closed his eyes. 
 
 In Serii)tures you will find. 
 He made a bride from Adam's side. 
 
 So this was dust refined. 
 
 This was a day not thrown away. 
 
 And ]>rove to you I can. 
 A lovely form this day was b<»rn, 
 
 More beautiful than man. 
 
 He called her Eve, we must believe, 
 
 And warned her for His sake 
 To shun and flee from wonder tree. 
 
 Lest Adam would awake. 
 
 This did not suit, she ]>hu'ked the fruit, 
 
 Ere long was she forlorn. 
 And He sublime, and in due time 
 
 A child to them was born. 
 
 'Twns this unfurled the mighty world; 
 
 The die for all was cast. 
 His ])ractice first upon the worst 
 
 Was perfected at the last. 
 
 59 
 
* * ^-^ ^*N.«. 
 
 "Riches I have plenty, joys I have none; 
 
 Lo^'^:D tu't los^t. 
 
 IJiches T have ])leii1y. 
 
 But joy T liave none. 
 All about Is darkness, 
 
 Thou^li brifihtly shines llie snn. 
 
 Here I Avait tlie hour. 
 
 To be called bv Him above; 
 The crnel sea has robbed me 
 
 Of the onlv one T loved. 
 
 60 
 
wni:x 1 DiJKAM. 
 
 WIh'H f()otst(>iis 11u\v iire silenced 
 And darkness steals my gleam, 
 
 The veil of slee]» lays o"ev me. 
 Then I lie.iiin t«» dream. 
 
 I dream of home and mother, 
 I dream of days "one by. 
 
 The old slioj; of my father 
 
 Where round the sjiarks did tly 
 
 I dream of yonder river. 
 Of my old swimming plank, 
 
 The box my father made me 
 To catch frogs along the bank. 
 
 I dream of the (tld cow jjaths 
 That ran thrn forests wild; 
 
 I see the very minnows 
 I canght when bnt a child. 
 
 T see the boat and bridges. 
 The tra])iier"s Imt beyond. 
 
 The hondiest girls that ever. 
 And boys to correspond. 
 
 61 
 
I see bai'e-tV)(»ted iii-chins 
 And I anioug the crowd 
 
 With pantaloons the highest, 
 No voice quite so loud. 
 
 I hear my lather's singing. 
 
 His old beloved song. 
 And many times I've told him 
 
 We miss you now you're gone. 
 
 I dream of distant countries, 
 I dream of many spots; 
 
 One sleeps a black-eyed maiden 
 'Neath sweet forget-me-nots. 
 
 There dwells on earth another 
 Whom I did long forget. 
 
 Yet oft when all is darkness 
 In dreams I see her yet. 
 
 I hear the blast of trumpets 
 For the living and the dead; 
 
 I hear the drums proclaiming 
 Rest, rest, the day is fled. 
 
 I can no longer I'est me, 
 
 So long the nights do seem ; 
 
 Each moment brings new visions 
 And folds them in mv dream. 
 
 G2 
 
LOST CUR. 
 
 Have you seen a <ni- — ours van away; 
 He left the town the other day. 
 The salt he used he did not earn: 
 There's nothing offered for his return. 
 
 He loved the Japs, lie loved the Chinks; 
 He spent much time ujion the links. 
 We never listened to his ca]); 
 This was a blessing to us all. 
 
 To the bid of bums he would abide, 
 But that of justice he'd turn aside. 
 He turned them all down in the end; 
 He now exists without a friend. 
 
 Our kindness to him we regret ; 
 He could smoke with ease a cigarette. 
 He'd bark for cash for all his creed. 
 But in no case did he succeed. 
 
 He annoyed his neighbors and relation 
 By trying to bark a reputation. 
 He saw- the Cai)itol house one day; 
 We could scarcely call that cur away. 
 
 Among the wise he caused contention. 
 He was ever seen at their convention, 
 His i)resence ever caused commotion. 
 He was always looking for ])i-omotion. 
 
 He imagined he was of renown. 
 At every place he was turned down. 
 This cur was black, had little sand 
 And answers to the name of Brand. 
 
 ti3 
 
'Longing for civilization." 
 
 (U 
 
LOX(nX(J F()l{ CIA'ILTZATION. 
 
 I shall leave my fire and Avi<»\vaiii, 
 My native home for years; 
 
 The voice of the tom-tom 
 My heart no longer cheers. 
 
 The chanting- of my kindred 
 
 For those who take their flight 
 
 No longer bring my tears 
 
 In the darkest hours of night. 
 
 The Avar paint of my brothers. 
 
 Their whoop and revelry. 
 The peace pipe of my fathers 
 
 Hath no more charms for me. 
 
 I'm tired of beads and feathers, 
 
 The rippling of tho oar. 
 The slaughter of the beaveis 
 
 Along the distant shore. 
 
 In my present lunnble dwelling 
 
 I have not long to stay; 
 I'm longing for ])rogressi(»n 
 
 And green fields far awav. 
 
 65 
 
THIS CITY. 
 
 This ciTv liatli great lawyers 
 
 And doctors by the score, 
 Sweet women by the hundreds 
 
 That kings Avon Id long adore. 
 But the way tlie town is managed 
 
 Wonld drive a nian to grief; 
 We have one ]Mntt for onr Mayor 
 
 And anotlier Mutt for Cliief. 
 
 GO 
 
SPAIN'S DEFEAT. 
 
 "Twas the iieai-iii*^- of ,Ma.v, ninety eij»lit was u]»<)ii ns. 
 
 Assembly was sounded from far north to Spain ; 
 They for jirotection, we for our honor. 
 
 Loaded all gnus iu revenge for the Main. 
 The assurance for trouble brought tears unto mothers; 
 
 War horses were saddled and canteens were filled, 
 Old Glory was hoisted from log hut and mansion, 
 
 Our soldiers and sailors to the front were now billed 
 Then join in chorus, we'll sing of the heroes 
 Who sailed the broad seas Avliere cannons did roar, 
 And swept fore and aft, in Spain's darkest waters ; 
 Three cheers and a tiger from America shore. 
 
 The first shot was tired from the Nashville at morning. 
 
 Then one in return from the foe's fleet was heard ; 
 And a constant exchange one from the other. 
 
 Till every proud heart for victory was stirred. 
 Step by step came soldiers advancing, 
 
 Upon Spain's ships our big guns did ]>lay. 
 Death and destruction were this day united 
 
 In claiming brave spirits, and soaring away. 
 Let us shout to the health of our Heet on the ocean. 
 Then again for the privates, the kings on the main. 
 Once more to the cannons which this day were roaring; 
 We'll down that proud banner which lloats over Sj)ain. 
 
 On May twenty-first in harbor Manila, 
 
 Was lying at anchor a great Spanish Heet, 
 Pending Avith treason her bright Hags were Hying, 
 
 Hoping each moment our soldiers to meet. 
 They met and they fought, their Hag and ours, 
 
 Death in a Hame swept by on tlie breeze; 
 Spain's whitened decks, now crimsoned and gory. 
 
 Were washed and swallowed by the blue S])anish seas, 
 Let us shout with the sea for (juenching her hunger 
 And throw our hats high as she hurls her spray. 
 For Spain's greatest fleet is now sent asunder. 
 
 And over the billows most meirily ]>lay. 
 
 The white dove of ])eace was sent by Queen IJegent 
 
 On August the twelfth this message to bring: 
 Recall from our Avaters your soldiers and sailors. 
 
 They'll destroy our lands and throne of my King; 
 Take home the troojss that here you have landed 
 
 And o'er Santiago float Strijtes and the Stars, 
 It will tell to the world that we have been ccmquered 
 
 By the greatest of emblems that floats over Mars. 
 Hurrah to our soldiers and sailors forever. 
 Crown them with laurels, who fought on the sea ; 
 Hurrah to the eagle whose home is the ocean 
 
 Which flaps her broad wings o'er the land of the free. 
 
On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 On 
 
 O^LY A CUP. 
 
 y a cup with contents red — 
 
 y a boy lies pale and dead, 
 
 y a mother sitteth there, 
 
 y smoothing- her hoary hair: 
 
 y a father sheds a tear, 
 
 y a sister standing near, 
 
 y a draught with him was shared, 
 
 y a soul gone un}>repared ; 
 
 y a grave on yonder hill, 
 
 y a drunkard will it till ; 
 
 y a song for him was sung; 
 
 y they say — he died so young; 
 
 y a mound tells all today, 
 
 y a boy was led astray, 
 
 y heeded the final call, 
 
 Y lost, lost— that is all. 
 
 CH 
 
A RIDDLE. 
 
 ^Vliat is it that moans round the tonihs of tlie dead, 
 That leaps to and fro Avheu niouiuers are tied, 
 That rises and falls in the dead of the night. 
 Fears not the death raven, be he sheeted in white? 
 
 What is it that kisses old maids by the score 
 And enters the bosoms of virgins of yore. 
 
 Views the true nature, by her held so rare? 
 
 Xo matter hoAv modest, she welcomes him there. 
 
 What is it that whistles the live man a tune? 
 
 'Twill dance o'er his face when paleness is strewn. 
 It hovers more closely, in death now he lies. 
 And sings out in gladness when closed are his eyes. 
 
 What is it when man is at rest on the ground 
 That causes liis hair and Avhiskers to bound, 
 
 Fills nostrils with sand, breeches Avith burrs, 
 Heaps thistles around that Avill sting when he stirs? 
 
 What is it runs high and in it birds play, 
 Falls, kisses the stream, then straightway away, 
 Swings the vile buzzard and eagle on high 
 And cheers many travelers who wearily pass by? 
 
 What is it when you, with line in the bay. 
 Takes hold your breeches and nibbles away? 
 
 You turn — you can't see him, you hear but his song, 
 He has stolen a patch and forever has gone. 
 
 What is it bears ships so stately away. 
 Causes forests to bow and sinners to pray. 
 
 Feels pretty maids, complies with no rule? 
 
 What is it? von ask. Whv, it's Avind — sillv fool. 
 
 09 
 
Tt[i:iR (^h()T(;e. 
 
 In Canada T a-coasting j^o; 
 In joy I glide o'er the (snow : 
 When livers all in ice are bound, 
 I'm hapi)y all the .season round. 
 
 Sweet Coney Isle the home for me, 
 My baths are taken in the sea. 
 Oft to the bottom I have sank : 
 I'm home on wave or on the plank. 
 
 While others swim and (oasting "o, 
 I'm satisfied with ^lexico. 
 When I am dead lay my reuiains 
 Where bloouis 1 he cactus on the plains. 
 
FOOLS. 
 
 F<M»ls Avoik wonders in this -.v^e. 
 
 All risks take from wise slioniders. 
 Fools tell others what to do, 
 
 Some fools are offiee-holders. 
 Our fool oiu-e set three weeks, 
 
 Stormed the house with cnrses. 
 Tore his haii', at lenjith ]n()diieed 
 
 Two sillv little verses. 
 
'I was trying- to paint a brown thrush, missJ 
 
NOW BEAT IT, YOU LONO LEGGED JAY. 
 
 1^.11 liiive hunted me long-, von galoot, voii, 
 Altliongli my fovm it may suit yon. 
 If yon mark me down there. I will shoot you, 
 Now beat it, yon hnig legged Jay. 
 
 Because my home i,s the ]»lain, sir, 
 My friendship yon never can gain, sir, 
 I admire a man Avith a brain, sir, 
 So with vou I never can stav. 
 
 EEPLY. 
 
 Why u]tbraid me so, will yon hush. Miss? 
 I was trying to paint a brown thrush, ^liss. 
 He Avas hiding alone in the brush. Miss, 
 I thought he was singing for me. 
 
 The thrush it has Hed from my sight. Miss, 
 Being siurned. T will take a grand hike, Miss, 
 Don't shoot— I will bid you good night. Miss, 
 That thrush I will never more see. 
 
THE CITY OF THE DEAD. 
 
 I wandered last night wlivre bearers tread. 
 Where mourners wee]) for loved ones dead 
 Wlio yield their all, take earth instead 
 And are here content with an unmade hed. 
 'Tis here the lifeless enters slow 
 To join the dead — six feet below. 
 
 This city is darkness, it ]i<iht deties ; 
 
 Here all are bound by deathly ties ; 
 
 The rich and poor are here one size. 
 
 Save granite tells where the rich man lies. 
 The i^roud, the humble, all must oo 
 To join the dead — six feet below. 
 
 Thus ages roll and here they sleep, 
 
 While some rejoice iind others we^) ; 
 
 Many try to climb fame's hill so steep 
 
 Ere the sickle comes to reaj). 
 
 Oft heads not rine are stricken low 
 To join the dead — six feet below. 
 
 O'er this city where the lifeless lie 
 Men build great douies that tower high. 
 Marked slabs are sought with a tear and sigh. 
 While those unmarked are oft passed by. 
 
 Death's chariot taketh sure but slow 
 
 Inmates to this citv below. 
 
WILL YOU, JENXY, SAY YIOS? 
 
 Tonight I am thinking- of one 1 hold dear. 
 My sorrow is faded — I'm thrilled with new cheer. 
 How well I remember the morning we met ! 
 The face of yon, Jenny, I'll never forget. 
 
 Though sorrow may come, I'll cast it aside 
 If the one I love dearly will with me abide. 
 No sin I'd commit wonld my conscience annoy; 
 What sorrow did come I'd meet it with joy. 
 
 'Tis few years were given — but three score and len 
 This is the time that's allotted to men. 
 Your path through this life with roses I'd strew. 
 Could I journey till death with a darling like you. 
 
 Consider this, Jenny, and consider it well, 
 You'll some day be asked an answer to tell. 
 Then through this short life you alone I'll caress 
 If vou sav wht-n I ask vou that little word — Yes. 
 
'List the curfew ring." 
 
 WHERE Tin-: CI'KFEW STILL KINU?^. 
 Conquej's Port, Sandwich Islauds. 
 
 I've stood here on old Conijuey's Port 
 
 For seven hundred years, 
 My dome each night has kissed the sun" 
 
 As it sank behind the piers. 
 
 Within my dome the curfew tolls 
 
 The knell of parting day. 
 And o'er the islands can be heard 
 
 At eve its mournful lay. 
 
 Dutch sextons here have rung and died, 
 Still there Avas always one 
 
 To cause my faithful bell to toll. 
 And cheer the setting suii. 
 
 Whene'er, where'er the ech<^ sounds. 
 
 Means rest unto all men. 
 The sun's last rays, the bell's last chime. 
 
 They mingle on the glen. 
 
 Then silently all die away. 
 
 We disturb grim darkness never, 
 But let her reign, we faithful three 
 
 May ccMue and go forever. 
 
 7G 
 
ODE TO DEATH. 
 
 Oh, ciuel Death, deep is yt»ur sting 
 Whicli numy meu have borne. 
 They say that you were born in sin 
 8inee you make millions mourn. 
 
 You speed on wings that never tire. 
 You enter every door; 
 Y'ou slay your victim with one blow. 
 Then to his neighbor soar. 
 
 You summon all to God's white throne. 
 The poor you will not shun. 
 Though men may weep, you care not aught 
 For you are friend to none. 
 
 But one word more, O, cruel Death, 
 Before I reach my goal; 
 When time shall strike my fatal lumr 
 Have pity on my soul. 
 
THE HOKROKir^ OF ^VA1^. 
 
 ^^'ho hath heard the sabres rattle 
 
 111 the fiercest storm of battle? 
 
 AVho hath heard the Hotchkiss loaring 
 
 While her grape-shot men were goring? 
 
 Who hath heard -the Ked Man chanting 
 
 O'er a brother who lays ])anting? 
 
 Who hath heard that volley tiring 
 
 That sends men to trench retiring? 
 
 Assemble ye that's heard it 
 
 From the land that we fought for. 
 
 We'll take a little ginger in memory of the AVar. 
 
 Who hath seen the flashlight gleaming 
 
 O'er a field Avliere gore is steaming? 
 
 Who hath seen the bayonet drii»j)ing, 
 
 And dying heroes water sijiping? 
 
 Who hath seen a warrior ]:iayin<>. 
 
 And his blood the earth bes])raying? 
 
 Who hath seen him halt and stagger. 
 
 From his own breast draw a dagger? 
 
 Assemble ye that's heard it 
 
 From the land that we've fought for. 
 
 We'll take a little lager in memory of the War. 
 
 Who hath heard the drnmmer drnmming. 
 
 And the mighty batteries hnmming? 
 
 Who hath heard the cry "Assemble'" 
 
 Aronnd yonr officer all atremble? 
 
 Who hath heard the war horse neighing 
 
 For his rider in death now laying? 
 
 Who hath heard on the field all gory: 
 
 "Tell all at home I died for glory''? 
 
 Assemble ye that's heard it 
 
 From the land that we fought for. 
 
 We'll take a little IJed-Eye and forget 1lie itaiii of War, 
 
 78 
 
"Mv babes arc waiting for mo.' 
 
 MY BABES AKK WAlTIXd FOR MK 
 
 My nest is on lii^li. niy food in the stream; 
 I search for my i»rey hy the tirst and last j>leam. 
 My h>ved ones' at liome neer in vain for me seek, 
 For when I return Fvc a tish in my beak. 
 
 I bid them be patient whenever we ])art : 
 It's tlie crv of the hnn«iry that breaketh my lieart. 
 If men of f»reat wisdom wonbl pattern from iiie 
 How mnch more joy on earth there wonld b.-! 
 
 79 
 
THE DEPAETMEXTS OF HELL. 
 
 I always tlioujiliT iiiitil last night 
 
 When a man he did rebel 
 Against the law of God and died 
 
 Would be welcomed into hell. 
 But such is not the case with all. 
 
 I dreamed my race was run ; 
 I oi»ened the door, the keeper said : 
 
 '"Hello, from whence you come?"" 
 "I served you faithful," I fain did say 
 
 "deceived sometimes enjoyment, 
 And now that you have, called me home 
 
 I beseech thee for employment."" 
 ''Well, we have a job for you, 
 
 You just arrived in time." 
 And bringing me a mammoth scroll 
 
 Said : "Register on that line." 
 Here my name Avas plainly wrote, 
 
 I've lived for twenty-four years 
 Near the town of Byron. 
 
 "Hold on, you can't stop here. 
 But Hell has five departments ; 
 
 There are five degrees of sin. 
 Stop every place along the line, 
 
 And perhajis they'll take you in."' 
 I Avandered on to another room 
 
 And gently did I rap; 
 Someone muttered: "^Vho is theic'?"' 
 
 As though awakened from a na]i. 
 "Sir, they call me Wiggings, 
 
 I came from Byron town. 
 Can I stoji here for a season?" 
 
 "No, go a little farther down." 
 "Hey, can you use a man from By ion?" 
 
 I asked wiih an air sedate. 
 "Xo, I took twci on probation. 
 
 And they Tried to steal my gate." 
 At the Foiiith jilace I ra])])ed gently, 
 80 
 
For reply I "ot a siu^er. 
 " 'Tis best 3'ou shed your gariiit'iit. 
 
 You'll need no clothing here." 
 He oped the way — my breath took liic: 
 
 Live coals lay on the floor. 
 "Say, Devil, I'm from Byron.-' 
 
 "Then begone, return no more." 
 I staggered on to the very last; 
 
 I found the door knob hot. 
 The truth is this, I did not caie 
 
 If he took me in or not. 
 "Say, I'm from Byron, Devil. 
 
 Was good, but there I fell." 
 "Well, go ye back to Byron." 
 
 "]S'o, I'd rather be in hell." 
 
 Byron, Michigan, is an inland town of aboxit I'OO inhabitants, near where the 
 poet was born, and a place despised by him. 
 
 SI 
 
THE PARTING OF LARKY AND MANDY, 
 
 Well, Larry, I'm ^oing to lea\\^ you. 
 
 My bark for Greenland I'll steer; 
 I lived with thee long on this hillside 
 
 In misery for nmny a year. 
 I've heard it related by father 
 
 That Greenland is barren and cold. 
 We have one son, he is foolish 
 
 And he looks a hnndred years old. 
 
 Now, Larry, I know that you love me, 
 
 I trust "twill not grieve your heart; 
 If that boy is the fruit of our labor 
 
 'Tis best we forever should ])art. 
 His head it is shaped like a hammer. 
 
 With beard like that of a goat; 
 His tongue utters nothing but nonsense; 
 
 My cutf would thrice gird his throat. 
 
 I'm sorely discouraged, dear Larry ; 
 
 The truth you plainly can see. 
 Wait till my change of the evening 
 
 And then come sailing to me. 
 No doubt you will find me in Greenland — 
 
 Its barrenness me doth decoy. 
 As a token to ever remend)er 
 
 I leave you my claiui on the boy. 
 
 I'll listen whate'er you may tell me. 
 
 But, Larry, I can't tarry long. 
 How you will mourn by the fireside 
 
 When you think of Mandy that's gone! 
 Well, hubby, the time is expiring; 
 
 The shi]) is already for sea ; 
 I'll stay on the hillside a moment, 
 
 And list for a message from thee. 
 
LAKKY KKIMJKS. 
 
 When peaeli trees bear onions in winter 
 
 And cats refuse milk when it's warm. 
 When the dead come fortli on election 
 
 And enter the grave on the morn, 
 When they move all the rocks out of Greenland 
 
 And heap them all up to your view. 
 And refill the holes Avitli Limbnroer, 
 
 Then I'll come sailing to yon. 
 
 When a girl has mnmjis and don't murmnr 
 
 When fed upon pickles and crust, 
 AVhen you Itoil a capsule an hour 
 
 And swallow before it will bust. 
 When you tell where Cain's wife existed. 
 
 Why England admitted a Jew, 
 Tell then where a mastodon's living, 
 
 And I will come sailing to you. 
 
 I've listened so long to your babblings 
 
 With patience like that of ])oor Job; 
 I've renewed your shoes and eye glasses. 
 
 And every full moon a new robe; 
 I've fed thee on cream and Ambrosia; 
 
 In return I got crackers and cheese. 
 You can go to (Ireenland or hell, ma'am. 
 
 And stay just as long as you please. 
 
 83 
 
THE BALTIMORE FIRE. 
 
 Give ear, ye sons and daughters, 
 
 Before voii take your tliglit : 
 •Tis of the tire at Baltimore 
 
 I'll tell to 3'ou tonight. 
 Chicago was devastated in 1871, 
 
 But this fire has no equal 
 Since the days of Wasliington. 
 
 'Twas the second month, date 7th, 
 This city b}^ the tide 
 
 Rang her fire bells madly 
 O'er a section long and Avide. 
 
 'Twas in the John Hursh building 
 The flames first swept alone. 
 
 Were swollen by the breezes 
 To the greatest ever known. 
 
 And flames are sweeping onward. 
 The crimson billows roar. 
 
 Spreading devastation 
 To the Citv of Baltimore. 
 
 Midnight found them raging. 
 
 The flaming tongues no end. 
 From one roof to another 
 
 The mighty blaze extend. 
 The fire now lit the heavens 
 
 And tottering walls they fell ; 
 Many there imagined 
 
 The earth had turned to hell. 
 Still onward like an army 
 
 Of fifty thousand men. 
 Swept the breath of Satan. 
 
 Bombarding now and then. 
 Fathers knelt in secret. 
 
 Sons and mothers wept ; 
 It seemed no prayers were answered 
 
 For the Demon onward swept. 
 And flames are sweeping onward. 
 
 The city to explore. 
 Commanded by a fearful gale; 
 
 Doomed citv of Baltimore. 
 
 .84 
 
Escape was not jji-ovided 
 
 From this dire tield of tlaiue. 
 Brave tireiiieii I'uiight like liei-oes, 
 
 Ee-iuforeemeiit winds now came. 
 The}- swept the Haminjj;- billows 
 
 To every open cleft. 
 And now it seemed fair Baltimore 
 
 On earth wonld not be left. 
 Yet climbing- higher, higher 
 
 The flames to Avind seemed tied. 
 A mile and half in length they swei)t 
 
 And more than tive blocks wi<le. 
 Last flremen are encouraged ; 
 
 They're now holding their own ; 
 They are blotting out the greatest tire 
 
 This land has ever known. 
 Peace at last holds quiet reign 
 
 Where blood and wealth before 
 Stormed the earth with shriekes and wails. 
 
 Thev'll rebuild Baltimore. 
 
"Yos, tlioy'i'i' office holders" 
 HER FIKST LESSON. 
 
 Yonr pictures I see them wherever 1 go, 
 l*lease teach me, kind artist, I would like to know. 
 I care not for landscapes on Avhich people stare. 
 But teach me to draw, two asses, one bear. 
 
 To make the first ass draw the form of a man 
 Propped npon spindles, in shoes that are tan ; 
 Lay cigarettes near him, pin a rose on his l)reast. 
 Make franchise his target, and nonsense the rest. 
 
 oNLike his head narrow, vet say "rooms to spare"" ; 
 His brains have been sapped but his luxurious hair. 
 Part this in the middle, on each eye put a glass. 
 When this is complete, you have the first ass. 
 
 For ass No. 2 3'ou can draw a big tank, 
 AYhere brains ought to be, simjdy say "blank." 
 Put his feet in whole hides, mark one brain on his seat. 
 Y"on now have tAVo asses th^ world cannot beat. 
 
 Bruin hath brains and instinct galore. 
 
 INLiny wise heads doth his picture adore. 
 
 Well separate him from our first mentioned paii-. 
 
 So as not to disgrace ourselves or the bear. 
 
 SG 
 
"Our beauty shall fade" 
 
 OUR BEAT'TY SHALL FADK 
 
 Away to the woodlands, [ wandered alone 
 Where beautiful roses in darkness had gro^vn. 
 Though weighted with dew, they gave me a nod ; 
 I am Avelcome, thought I, in this garden of God. 
 
 So sweet seemed their smile, so fragrant the air. 
 
 They were pinned on my breast, they were twined in my hair 
 
 Our beauty shall fade, Oh, sad is my heart. 
 
 Why were we doomed, sweet roses, to part? 
 
 87 
 
THJ-: TWO JACKS. 
 
 Tlii.s is my master, I am his friend ; 
 
 On a set of sharp teeth he can ever depend. 
 
 A Copper once strnck him and me did abuse. 
 
 All "rwas left of that Cop Avas chib and his shoes. 
 
 Vm swift npon foot and when linngTv I feel 
 The leg of a copper jnst makes me a meal. 
 He who bothers my master, his blood will atone; 
 It's Solomon's wisdom to leave him aloni'. 
 
 My master drinks whiskey till oft times he reels; 
 In daylight or darkness I'm close to his heels. 
 He once was molested by a sinner who dared; 
 A soul to its Maker soon went unprepared. 
 
 He once bonght a drink — a tramj» drained the cnp: 
 I ate him alive, I was then bnt a ])np. 
 Many intruders have since met his fate; 
 Since I've uiatured my appetite's great. 
 
 I love bread and milk, and scarcely can stoj^. 
 
 I'.ut one thing will temjjt. me. that's the breast of a Cop 
 
 T fought for my master in sunshine and rain; 
 
 If snow was tail deep. I'd fight just the snuie. 
 
A TKAML'S WIT. 
 
 A Tramp stnuk Bo.sloii one sultry day, 
 
 Asked for bread aud alms long the way, 
 
 Those who could give would bid him retreat, 
 
 His eyes spied a brick which lay on the street. 
 
 I'll grind it, thought he, conceal in a tin, 
 
 Cry death to bed bugs, tieas and their kin. 
 
 Some cry tish and others cry louder, 
 
 When 1 return I'll scream bed bug powder. 
 
 I was general in that army of Coxey's, 
 
 Yet don't Icnow how to secure the boxes. 
 
 He finding a few, both Avhite and brown. 
 
 Quickly made his departure out of the town.* 
 
 Then to Boston for a season adjourned, 
 
 Ground his brick, and early returned. 
 
 Powder, powder, the wanderer cried, 
 
 I gave it to mine and every one died. 
 
 They love it, you see, and each grain devour. 
 
 And they die in fits in less than an hour. 
 
 It works like a charm, in silks or in dirt, 
 
 It kills everything that hides in a shirt. 
 
 Just buy one box, you need not buy more. 
 
 There'll be no more rubbing your back on the door. 
 
 'Twas a secret revealed by my dying mother. 
 
 Up one street he went then down another; 
 
 In reply to the Tramp's boisterous roar 
 
 A lady on Cork street stepped to the door. 
 
 What's that you are selling, kind sir, if you ])lease? 
 
 A destroyer of bed bugs, lice, knits and Heas. 
 
 Lady take this and throw it around; 
 
 On the morn, a million bed bugs can be found. 
 
 She being overjoyed at this happy thought 
 
 Immediately a package of the ])owder bought. 
 
 The Tramp encouraged by selling this jxnvder. 
 
 Cried death to bugs louder and louder. 
 
 Said he to himself, this lady I've beat. 
 
 And I'll never again be seen on this street. 
 
 He paid his night lodging, he ate from a tray; 
 
 It proved almost fatal, he losing his way. 
 
 Powder, powder, he loudly did roar; 
 
 Up the same street which he trod before. 
 
 Halt there, you dog, or I'll have you arrested. 
 
 Powder, })OAvder, that lady invested. 
 
 That, you tramp, is nothing but clay. 
 
 She gave it to hers, now dead they all lay, 
 
 I wish you were dead and under the ground, 
 
 S9 
 
A inillion bed bugs this iiioiiiiiig she louiid. 
 
 You're a robber, a thief, a peace annoyer. 
 
 Come this way, all, for bed bug destroyer. 
 
 You'll not dwell here in the land of the free; 
 
 She up with a blunderbuss, halt now, or I'll see. 
 
 He being unable to resist this niolestion, 
 
 Stopped and proceeded to jinswer hei- question. 
 
 Then it was thundered, y<»u"ie naught but a brute, 
 
 Give me that dollar, else I will shoot, 
 
 I took your powder, threw it around, 
 
 And not a dead bug this uiorning was found. 
 
 Now, said the Tramp, This jiowder is good. 
 
 Kind lady, I see you uiisunderstood. 
 
 I said throw the ])owder on beds and rugs; 
 
 On the morn you would find bed bugs, not dead bugs. 
 
 She cocked the gun, he made a great sally. 
 
 Away went the Tramp, disappeared in the alley. 
 
 The muzzle was low, the shot struck the dirt. 
 
 Fortunately, the Trauip escaped unhuit. 
 
 Even the "Newsies" cry out to this day. 
 
 Woe to the man who for brick dust asks ])ay. 
 
 Though ragged he comes, and faint with exhaustion, 
 
 l>eath is his fate in the citv of lioston. 
 
 90 
 
now T FOOLKI) FATHER. 
 
 One d:iy when still a lad at home, 
 
 My father said to me: 
 Let us go forth and plow, my hoy, 
 
 The breeze is cool and free. 
 
 >;ow who could ask lor kinder words 
 Than father had just spoken, 
 
 And who could speak a nobler task? 
 Still my heart was broken. 
 
 To think of work in yonder tield. 
 The gates that si)anned the lane, 
 
 1 trendjled like an as])en leaf 
 
 And sickness thought to feign. 
 
 The team was hitched to yon old beam, 
 
 The whip swung to and fro. 
 T grew sick at thoughts of it. 
 
 But knew 'twas best to go. 
 
 The grass and flowers bid adieu 
 
 As they there <»ne by one 
 Were buried all in depths alike, 
 
 No more to view the sun. 
 
 Once more the black earth kissed the breeze 
 
 And father he would say: 
 1 love to till the fertile soil 
 
 And labor day by day. 
 
 Few weeks passed and father said : 
 
 I'll finish on the morrow; 
 I then will work in yonder field 
 
 And leave you here to harrow. 
 
 The morning- came, T started forth. 
 My heart bore down like lead. 
 
 To think of working there all day — 
 1 wished that 1 were dead. 
 
 ^Myself like many other boys 
 
 Had very little sense; 
 T drove the team once round the field, 
 
 Then hitched it to the fence. 
 
^^ow ill the shade my humble loim 
 Lay prostrate on the ground 
 
 To watch the hills for lather's head. 
 And dinner bells to sound. 
 
 I turned my pockets inside out 
 
 A cake of soap to find, 
 I needed it to make complete 
 
 The scheme I had in mind. 
 
 Ere long I crept beneath a tree, 
 
 I closed mine eyes of blue; 
 Will father raise another son. 
 
 Thought I, so good and true. 
 
 I never knew that sleep was near; 
 
 It was to my surprise 
 To see the sun far in the west 
 
 When I at last did rise. 
 
 Once more I viewed the hills with care 
 
 And there beheld my father; 
 I dipped the soap into the ditch; 
 
 Besmeared the team Avith lather. 
 
 Get out of this, was my loud cry; 
 
 I used the whip quite free; 
 The steeds were lame, they scarce could walk. 
 
 And jointless seemed jjoor me. 
 
 Ere long I heard my father yell : 
 
 My boy, 'tis after noon. 
 Yes, and I have done my task; 
 
 I'll be there very soon. 
 
 He's a worker, I heard him say, 
 Quite sure that reached my ear ; 
 
 My heart was beating in my throat 
 For fear he'd come too near. 
 
 Now with the team I started home; 
 
 Met father on the way. 
 Don't Avork the team tomorrow, boy; 
 
 They're overworked today. 
 
 I know they are, but thought like this. 
 
 That we had just Itegun, 
 Whene'er I mark a task though large, 
 
 Dear father, it shall be done. 
 
 02 
 
Well done, aspirings, noble bo}', 
 
 To wealth Ton'll take your flight; 
 
 For health, you'd better feed the team 
 And sleep from now till night. 
 
 How quick I moved at that command I 
 
 I slept till day had fled. 
 At early dawn I ran away 
 
 And know not what he said. 
 
 93 
 
AN OLD FIDDLirS LAMENT. 
 
 Dell Ilair at one time purtliased a rare violin of a Russian Jew, giving his 
 note in exchange for the same. The note came due. and he was obliged to sell the 
 violin to meet the promised ohligation. In one of the principal music stores in the 
 city of Toledo, was hung this violin for sale. On the same was attached the fol- 
 lowing verses. This rare old specimen was soon sold, the purchaser remarking he 
 did not care so much for the violin as for the verses. 
 
 One lunidred and lifty rears a<i<». 
 When Ivnssian ])lains were clad in snow, 
 Wolves were howling all the way, 
 M}^ master and I went forth to play; 
 They chose nie for my voice was lond 
 To give SAveet strains to the merry crow(L 
 
 Ere long my master grew lame and old; 
 I was laid in my case to mold ; 
 At length grave want on him befell, 
 For lack of bread, he me did sell ; 
 From his I went to ditferent hands. 
 Who at once set sail for foreign lands. 
 
 To give sweet strains is all I know. 
 If you will just take np the bow 
 And draAv it gently across my strings. 
 Like a thoTisand bells my echo rings. 
 If yonr sister's ill or brother dies, 
 I'll send yonr sorrow to the skies. 
 
 If debts shonld nnnd)er by the score 
 And creditors stand ontside the door, 
 From the interior turn the keys, 
 I'll send your woes across the seas. 
 My Master's hand Avas oft installed 
 In trouble, he ever on nu' called. 
 
 Bring forth yonr Yillanm's and your Strad's, 
 
 Your Oerman prides with all their fads. 
 
 Bring all to me, wherever made; 
 
 I'll drown and lay them in the shade; 
 
 A sea of tone I have in store, 
 
 I can please yonr listeners by the sc(»i'e. 
 
 I survived it all and all seemed Avell 
 Till I in the hands of a poet fell ; 
 His note came due. he Avould only sing. 
 He even OAves for my every string; 
 He's in debt to all. moves like a snail. 
 And that is Avhv I'm here for sale. 
 
on, WHY t^llo^M> max nv: pkoud? 
 
 Tlie moon lia« jnst relieA'ed the sun 
 
 And left the gates ajar, 
 "Tis walled in by the halo 
 
 And guarded by a star. 
 Here he heliographs the hour 
 
 To his comrade in the cloud, 
 While we mortals dwell down here; 
 
 Oh, why should man be proud? 
 
 The robin in the forest old. 
 
 The blue bird <tn the rod 
 Are perched and here they sweetly sing 
 
 Their praises to the God. 
 Among his people here below. 
 
 Few earnestly are bowed. 
 More than He is lust in wealth; 
 
 Oh, why should man be ])roud? 
 
 The hapi)y cows that roaui the field 
 
 All Join in one accmd. 
 And everything but mortals here 
 
 Give praises to the Lord. 
 It won't be long when you and 1 
 
 Will don that raven shroud. 
 Then when alone I ask of me, 
 
 Oh, why should man be proud? 
 
 God's finest art is in the sea. 
 
 When brought in by the tide 
 We plainly see his love for all, 
 
 His goodness and His pride. 
 So many thoughts came o'er me 
 
 I wrote them while T plowed, 
 I heard a voice sweetly ask. 
 
 Oh, why should man be i>roud? 
 
 05 
 
A SABBATH EVE IX PRISON. 
 (Written in Ft. Sill guardhouse.) 
 
 I hear the waters gurgle in a rill that's running nigh, 
 
 I hear the happy blackbird chirp as he flies by, 
 
 I hear a young squaw singing just outside my cell, 
 
 I hear the distant sentries echo "All is well." 
 
 I hear tom-toms sounding near the Kiowa camp, 
 
 I hear a mounted trooper steer right beneath the lamp, 
 
 I hear the Curfew ringing Avithin a castle fair, 
 
 I hear some trembling voice oft'er God a prayer. 
 
 I see my comrades sleeping upon the bed of straw, 
 I see some other mourning for the breaking of the law. 
 I see an old rock fireplace Avhose last faint spark is fled, 
 I see a prisoner walking, I count his steady tread. 
 
 I see men's garments hanging upon an old stone wall, 
 I see at dawn the sunshine, the dearest sight of all, 
 I see the roof divided through which would shine the stars, 
 I see at every opening each crevice spanned Avith bars. 
 
 I hear a brook's loud roaring, of thunder as it were, 
 I hear a merry urchin whistling for his cur, 
 I hear the sergeant's footsteps fast approaching me, 
 I hear him give the signal and turn the giant key. 
 
 I see the walls are broken by hands we can't ignore, 
 I see the names of outlaws carved deep upon the door, 
 I see before mine visions, dark chasms, front and rear, 
 I see but gloom and darkness; I'll tell you what I liear. 
 
 I hear a bugle calling, come now, 'tis time to rest, 
 
 I hear a faint heart beating within a giant's breast, 
 
 I hear within this dungeon, as though 'twere in a dream, 
 
 Cheer u]>. my sturdy fellow, tliy stars shall once more gleam. 
 
 Of. 
 
LOVE'S VALENTINE. 
 
 Have you gazed on the cot where your lover dwells 
 
 And felt a tingling- like little bells. 
 Or a shower of blessings from heaven above? 
 
 These are symptoms of pure love. 
 
 Have you seen that face in your many dreams. 
 
 Have you seen the name in the sun's bright beams, 
 
 Have you seen the eyes of your lover true 
 
 Sparkle with truth like the morning dew? 
 
 Have you seen the grave, if they be dead. 
 
 Have you seen them walk from their lowly bed? 
 H" you know not this and can give no sign. 
 
 How can von write love's valentine? 
 
 97 
 
WHY FAKMING WAS A FAILT KE. 
 
 Well, talk about yoiii" farming. 
 
 In the good old summer time, 
 I tried my hand at farming. 
 
 It was in Shiawasse's clime. 
 
 My farm contained no fences ; 
 
 One could in the center stand. 
 Look north, east, south or west 
 
 And I owned all that land. 
 
 Sand s])outs here were not unknown. 
 
 My neighbor across the way 
 Owned my farm ])art of the time. 
 
 Still I had the tax to pay. 
 
 It depended all ujton the wind. 
 
 This farm midst mighty i-ain 
 Would lay down for a day or two. 
 
 And then dig out again. 
 
 I remember once a rabbit wild 
 
 Did on his hind legs stand; 
 Said to himself, can I ever cross 
 
 That mighty sea of sand? 
 
 My limbs are good, my pace is fast, 
 
 I've oft on this relied ; 
 So here I go, God help me on. 
 
 He in the center died. 
 
 You'd tliink that crops would grow most grand, 
 
 You could not find a weed. 
 But every time I i)lowed the soil 
 
 Was com]>elled to borroAv seed. 
 
 I planted corn, sowed oats and Avheat, 
 
 They never did grow tall. 
 The truth is this, T never threshed 
 
 Ten bushel iu the fall. 
 
 'Twas then I soAved the farui to rye; 
 
 It tried to do its best. 
 For reasons T Avill here explain 
 
 Was a failure like the rest. 
 
 08 
 
You see ehiii'l seedy came along, 
 With blue clay iu his hair; 
 
 Rye thought it was the devil 
 
 And stopped growing then and there. 
 
 Now for a pumpkin crop, thought I : 
 Where'er his feet touched ground, 
 
 'Twill be so rich I'll surely find 
 A pumpkin large and round. 
 
 They grew and grew in such a shape 
 They resembled well his face, 
 
 The truth is this, I could not keep 
 But hogs upon the ])lace. 
 
 Since for all time I've left the farm 
 
 No more will I sow rye. 
 The devil's hottest place is filled. 
 
 He to earth has bid good-bye. 
 
 I'll strive to walk the streets of gold 
 In that city bright and fair; 
 
 Oh, God forbid, I go to hell 
 
 F(U' I'd surelv find him there. 
 
 
 
 99 
 
'Wife, I've got a cramp.' 
 
 100 
 
THE OTHER FELLOWS (UllLIE ALWAYS LOOKS THE BEST 
 
 TO ME. 
 
 It is mauy 1 have courted. 
 Some short and others tall; 
 But at length I did get married 
 To my choice of them all. 
 I just asked to be her Imbby, 
 To keep sober did agree; 
 Now the other fellow's girlie 
 Always looks the best to me. 
 We once started for an outing, 
 There was war on railroad rates. 
 So Ave took a little journey 
 Through all the Avestern states. 
 We went through Indiana, 
 Kentuck' and Tennessee — 
 Still the other fellow's girlie 
 Always looked the best to me. 
 
 riiORT's: 
 
 No matter Avliere I Avander. 
 No matter on Avhat sphere. 
 Be it summer, be it Avinter, 
 Or the siiringtiuie of the year; 
 Be I Avide aAvake or dreaming. 
 But one thing 1 can see: 
 That's the other felloAv's girlie 
 AlAA-ays looks the best to me. 
 
 After traveling through this country. 
 For Europe Ave did sail ; 
 I had long letters Avritteu. 
 All ready for the mail. 
 Of course "tAvas an the quiet — 
 They AA-ere Avritten on the sea^ 
 For the other felloAv's girlie 
 AlAvays looked the best to me. 
 We sailed to bonnie Scotland. 
 Where bagpipes thrilled the air; 
 There were women wiio Avore Avhiskers, 
 There Avere others Avith false hair; 
 Some had leaded ankles. 
 Some limbs made from a tre?. 
 Still the other fellow's girlie 
 Ahviiys looked the best to uie. 
 
 ('lIORTS; 
 
 101 
 
We started next for China ; 
 There were storms npon the deep. 
 Some fell on their bended knees, 
 While others they did weep. 
 My wife this prayer was sayiny,, 
 She'd drown, but I go free; 
 Still the other fellow's girlie 
 Always looked the best to me. 
 We went among the Hottentots; 
 On many I did smile. 
 One day wlien wife was sleeping, 
 I chased one half a mile. 
 Wife tlionght this land a heaven. 
 For, true she said I'd be; 
 Still the other fellow's girlie 
 Always looked the best to be. 
 
 Ciioiu's: 
 
 From virtue's path I seldom strayed- 
 
 I imagined she was near ; 
 
 As the ])eople dreaded Sauison, 
 
 So I my wife did fear. 
 
 I reminded her of prayer-tiuie; 
 
 When she first bent her knee, 
 
 I was seeking out another. 
 
 For she looked the best to me. 
 
 Aside fiom your mother, 
 Who is true to the end, 
 
 The bigger your roll. 
 The bigger your frieml. 
 
 102 
 
HAVE Yor ^^EEN IT? 
 
 Have you seen Hint cock-eved mayor. 
 
 And his cignrette disjday? 
 The busy wheels of college 
 
 Turn a fool out everv day. 
 
 103 
 
"Our Playground" 
 
 OUR HO:\[E IS THE OCEAN. 
 
 Our home is the heavens. 
 
 Our playground the sea ; 
 ]Midst earthquakes and teni])ests. 
 
 We ever are free. 
 
 Our cousin. I lie Alhv. 
 
 Tlie land doth ignore. 
 And scarce are we seen 
 
 On rock or on shore. 
 
 Be the billows at hinhost. 
 
 Or be they at lull. 
 Tlie sea is a playoround 
 
 For the Albv and ffull. 
 
 104 
 
THE GALVESTON FLOOD. 
 
 Behold the city iu its ghtiT, 
 
 Proiul as e're a city stood : 
 Men whose prayers ascended lieaven 
 
 Were not Avarned of winds or flood. 
 
 Morning breeze to the billows whisi»ered, 
 
 I'll return at five to thee: 
 Peace shall cease, and now Fll leave yoii, 
 
 Signing death warrants in the sea. 
 
 Yon cannot lie within thy dwelling. 
 
 Where for years you've slept before, 
 P>ut march with nie upon the city, 
 
 Accompanied by all heaven's roar. 
 
 Now I'll away for re-enforcements; 
 
 Bid adieu your long-washed shore. 
 While I am gone, sign warrants that nuiuber 
 
 Seven thousand — yea, and more. 
 
 We'll see our way by chaius in heaA^en, 
 That winds damnation in their folds ; 
 
 With Satan's Avrath and devastation 
 W^'ll march upon poor sleeping souls. 
 
 Behold the tOAvers glistening yonder — 
 They fear not me, they fear no death ; 
 
 Matrons sing, and sires are ha])py. 
 Yet all shall Avilt before my breath. 
 
 *Tis fiA-e — the Avinds from many quarters 
 
 Awaken now the peaceful sea ; 
 Tliey're in council till darkness hovers 
 
 Over wealth and misery. 
 
 'Tis nine — they start in all their fury; 
 
 Carnage marcheth to and fro ; 
 Breakers leap upon the city. 
 
 Which falls as once did Jericho. 
 
 'Wife," said one, "there's feiome one rapjting; 
 
 Methinks I've heard the same before. 
 'Tis some stranger seeking refuge; 
 
 Arise, and o])en wide the door." 
 
 105 
 
The visitor came ; 'twas maddened waters, 
 In search of woman, man and child; 
 
 It smote the lives within this dwelling. 
 Then to another, fierce and Avild. 
 
 Now the mighty billows, frothing. 
 Find for thonsands A\atery graves, 
 
 When life's extinct; and many living 
 Are borne away by merciless waves. 
 
 All desolate lies now the city. 
 
 Her domes, her docks, her people rare; 
 
 No more will tourists view her beanty — 
 It seemed the wrath of God was there. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, to old Galveston ; 
 
 Farewell, the dead upon the plain. 
 The day shall come, and not far distant, 
 
 When all who sleep shall rise again. 
 
 106 
 
THE HUNTER AND ROSE. 
 
 THE HUNTER. 
 
 Ah. lovely tluwer, why stand you alone. 
 
 In This desolate held, whence all light has flown 
 
 Where the shadows of woodland creep o'er thee at day, 
 At night the vile buzzards around thee doth play? 
 Scarcely a cry of a human is heard, 
 Only the blear of a lamb in some herd; 
 
 Then sounds the echo of a cow's distant low, 
 Then the tread or the cry of the wild kangaroo. 
 No lovely maiden has bowed on lier knees 
 And parted thy folds to partake of thy breeze; 
 No strain of music to thee has been hurled ; 
 Oh. where is thv comfort in this lonely Avorld? 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 God jilanted me here, and I'm satisfied ; 
 Others were jducked, A\ithered and died; 
 
 Though of times I'm lonely. His work is well d(»ne. 
 
 I drink from the rains, I feed on the sun, 
 I enjoy the moon, when curtains are drawn. 
 And the honey-bee visits me every dawn ; 
 
 Stars look down from the heavens in love; 
 
 I shine below, and they shine above. 
 Oft when you ramble through yon woodland fair, 
 Do you not notice how fragrant the air? 
 
 T help scent each breeze, as they pass slowly by. 
 
 Remember me ever, jolly hunter; goocl bye. 
 
 in-; 
 
^.^.M^i^"'^^ 
 
 THE ^[irHTOAX FOKESTS. 
 
 My own native forests T love more than life. 
 Tlioug;h throngli tliein, the winds cut keen as a knife. 
 Their lofty pines bow, in their armor of snow. 
 And lonely the S(»no; Ihat to each other j»o. 
 
 Beneath the creat l)onj»hs, the doe and hnck nin. 
 I've cheated their ])lans. with hound and my j;un ; 
 I've chased the wild htjre, the pheasant I've shot. 
 While the partridjie would drnm, in some lonely spot. 
 
 I've fed the tame quail, when it came Avheie I sat; 
 
 I've followed on ice, the beaver and rat. 
 
 I've oft heard the cry of lynx far away. 
 
 And the wildcat growl, Avhile tearino- his prey. 
 
 The porcupine hides in treetops obscure; 
 Here great fishes thrive, in water so pure; 
 The American eagle here often soars high — 
 The Michigan forests I'll love till T die. 
 
 108 
 
DELL HAIirS AUCTION SALE. 
 
 When Dell Hair decided to sell bis desert, and move to Toledo, Ohio, he posted 
 the following on all the dead walls and fences in the neighborhood of Shaftsburg. 
 Mich. It is needless here to state that the poster attracted wide attention, and 
 was the means whereby he quickly disposed of his holdings. — The Publisher. 
 
 Having reuted inv farm, 1 will not tail 
 To close out stock at public sale. 
 
 The Dell Hair farm, no doubt you've hejird. 
 
 Lies one-half mile east of Shaftsburg. 
 The date of sale, now don't forget. 
 And the following pro]»erty, to wit : 
 
 Two fine geldings, each nine years obi. 
 
 One good old mare may be with foal ; 
 There's one fine cow, six in the fall ; 
 Some time in March, her calf will bawl. 
 
 Two yearlings next, two calves (both male). 
 
 One brooding sow; new platform scale. 
 One binder new, of Champion make ; 
 One mower same, and one hay rake; 
 
 American harrow, bean puller, too ; 
 
 One floating harrow, one roller new; 
 Another harrow, a pulverizer. 
 One bran new drill, a fertilizer; 
 
 Wagons good, both wide and light. 
 
 Buggies whose tops have taken flight. 
 Fifty birds — some crow, some lay; 
 Harness too good to throw away ; 
 
 Aiax and plows, of every kind ; 
 
 Stoves still new, asbestos lined; 
 Re.^n pods, stalks, and hay I'll sell ; 
 Corn and oats, one dinner-bell ; 
 
 Orind-stone, cider, and my hoe ; 
 
 My hut in Shaflsburg, too, must go; 
 My fiddle, gun, my dog, my spear. 
 And many thincs not mentioned here. 
 
 T^nto the i>ublic T will say. 
 
 Sums of five are due this day ; 
 Over five one year'll be lent. 
 At a charge of no per cent. 
 
 When year is up, if you are late. 
 
 Eight per cent is charged from date. 
 These terms, good ])eople, are not rash. 
 Discount of five ])er cent for cash. 
 
 Those giving notes must furnish backeis. 
 
 Free lunch at noon, of cheese and crackers. 
 
 Dell Hair, Boss. 
 C. Y. Peek will cry. 
 
MY LAMENT 
 
 Winged .seed the breeze was sowing, 
 The mourning dove was cooing. 
 And cows Aveie gently lowing. 
 On that morn. 
 
 T wandered with my Jennie, 
 Where roses bloomed so many ; 
 Here Gola died for Dennie, 
 When he was born. 
 
 The 'possnm unite was lying. 
 Our judgment there defying; 
 Her young were loudly crying. 
 In the glen. 
 
 We spoke (»f «»ur first meeting, 
 f>o hapjty was that greeting, 
 In loye two hearts were beating. 
 There and then. 
 
 For years no Avoe had seen us. 
 Ere long it ste]»ped between us; 
 I wish she was in A'enus — 
 She or I. 
 
 Afost tenderly she bore it. 
 And oft she did deplore it ; 
 'Six joy. Ayho can restore it? 
 Soon I die. 
 
 Nor had they gone a minute, 
 T saw death's ]}(»ison in it; 
 To recall I did begin it. 
 It had gone. 
 
 It found a heart most tender. 
 Within a form so slender; 
 Her tears I could not hinder 
 With m_y snug. 
 
 None could recall the message 
 That stung within the nonage; 
 Yea, impriulcd like a vcssage. 
 In the heait. 
 
 no 
 
Her bitterness was hoominy;. 
 Her independt?nce blo<)iiiiii}:f ; 
 Though tender was the wooing. 
 We did part. 
 
 Soon the blue coat I was wearing, 
 She in darkness was retiring, 
 In sunliglit she was li^^aring 
 On my brain. 
 
 1 received a message saying, 
 Jennie she is laying; 
 Where oft she was seen praying, 
 You're to blame. 
 
 I would that all take warning. 
 Express no idle scorning 
 On one just in her morning — 
 Yea, or old. 
 
 Words gore the heart the deepest; 
 Of all they are the cheapest; 
 Jennie was not the weakest. 
 Yet is cold. 
 
 Ill 
 
TO FATHER TIME. 
 
 Time is advancing, life fleetli away. 
 
 And could it be granted, I never would say. 
 
 Return, O Time, with pleasure and pain : 
 
 I long to live thee over again. 
 
 What, I suffer the loss of loved ones once more? 
 
 And bear the burdens I carried before? 
 
 Then follow my parents, whom to me life gave, 
 
 From earth to bier, then depths of the gravp? 
 
 Clouds that have i»assed, with sorrow and dread, 
 
 I ask thee no more to sjiadow my head ; 
 
 How oft thou didst toss me, as waves on the main. 
 
 Filling my soul with sorrow and pain, 
 
 Hours of misery, and those I adore, 
 
 I ask thee never to enter my door. 
 
 If among human vultures I must ever remain. 
 
 Not one day that's passed would I live again. 
 
 AVe were created and formed in Christ's mold, 
 The greatest and grandest of all, we are told; 
 We should live as one family, no brother deceive, 
 Our words should be such that all could believe: 
 Instead, it is treachery; one prays for one's fall. 
 And jealousy, too, is the cause for it all ; 
 On many a soul it has left a black stain. 
 Then why should I long to live thee again? 
 
 Man, O Man, why treat the world thus. 
 When joy, instead, could be meted to us? 
 The world from creation, thy sting has received. 
 And only by death Ibis thou hast retrieved. 
 Return not. Time, to me, then I say ; 
 'Tis true, like the winds thou speedest away. 
 And when with thee, Time, T arrive at that shore, 
 T shall bid thee fnrewel] Avith r-eturn nevermore. 
 
 m 
 
"In iH'll and glad of it.' 
 
 THE SPIKITS RKPLY 
 
 ''T nin ]ia}ii».v. Oli. li(»w ha|>]>,v.'" 
 Said a spivit to his wife. 
 
 "Could I here Init spend the years 
 I lived with vctii in life." 
 
 ''Then, Will, yonr home is heaven. 
 
 Of its j(»_v will Ann tell." 
 ''Wife, T am not in heaven, 
 
 Bnt the hottest ]>lare in hell."* 
 
 113 
 
'I'orgivo int', Mr. Mulev, 
 
 114 
 
THE POET A^D THE MULE. 
 
 Now, Mister Poet, I've got you near a tree; 
 
 You've been mighty ugly, let me hear your jtlea. 
 
 You've licked me, you've kicked me, you struck me with a rail, 
 
 You hitched me in the barn yard, where calves chewed ott iny tail. 
 
 I've Avorked till nearly famished, tor night how J did wish. 
 
 Once you gave my supper to a Mule that i)eddled lish ; 
 
 One time you told a doctor I could not raise my head; 
 
 If he once stepped behind me, he'd be numbered with the dead. 
 
 You told your neighbors many, I could kick Gibraltar through; 
 
 I won't make you out a liar, I'll prove your statement true. 
 
 For corn you gave me dynamite, when you were full of beer. 
 
 I've decided now to send you to a change of atmosphere. 
 
 Can you give good reasors why now we should not part? 
 
 It depends on how your pleadings touch llie mainsj>ring of my heart. 
 
 KEPLY : 
 
 Mister Muley, I'm your servant; Oh, won't you jileas.^ forgive ? 
 
 ^Ve were both created, and both put here to live; 
 
 'Tis true we both have tempers that we should learn to share; 
 
 We're almost alike, sir; you're a mule and I'm a hare. 
 
 ^ly ears resemble yours, I have your winning eye; 
 
 Just now, dear Mister Muley, I could bray, were I to liy. 
 
 I've your sweet dis]iosition. it sticks to me like glue; 
 
 Oh, let me die a natural death, when all work here is through I 
 
 I now ask thee forgiveness, of your kind heart and brain. 
 
 You'll ever in the hereafter get a double feed of grain. 
 
 :MrLE: 
 
 Yes, you have t(»ucli('(l my heartstiiugs, they sound a diti'ertMit tune. 
 Their melody is as soft as a nightingale's in June. 
 I was just a-wondering how far 'twas to the stars; 
 I decided once to send you, by that route, into Mars. 
 T will rise upon the morrow, and start at early morn ; 
 Y(m can hold the harrow, I will drag it through the corn: 
 But if again you ]>ound me, for yt»u there'll be no hope. 
 I'll send you to that land Ihe}' can't find with telescojie. 
 
 11 r, 
 
WILL POWER AGAINiST TEMPTATION. 
 
 My curse on yon, O, demon, red ! 
 With thistles you liave strewn my bed, 
 Benumbed my heart with aches and pain. 
 You've all but driven me insane; 
 You gave me that accursed thirst, 
 It seems Just now my head will burst ; 
 You've watched me like a thief for years, 
 You've filled my mother's eyei<. with tears. 
 Many a path where roses bloom 
 You've hid, and only showed its gloom — 
 I stand now on destruction's brink. 
 And still you tempt me with more drink — 
 
 l>ut no! — Be gone! 
 
 My curse on you, O, beaded bowl I 
 You bring damnation to the soul, 
 You deal out misery far and wide. 
 Bring woe and death to many a bride. 
 You scoff at every drunkard's fall, 
 You give him naught though you take all ; 
 You send him barefoot in the snow 
 And tell him not which way to go. 
 You rob men of their babes and wife, 
 You take from them the joys of life; 
 You are the devil's centre link, 
 And still you tempt me with more drink- 
 But no ! — Be gone ! 
 
 Temptation : 
 
 What ! You speak thus, and me you shun ? 
 I'll tell the good work I have done: 
 'Tis true, I'm one that oft beguiles. 
 But I've turned your angered face to smiles; 
 I've driven care from out your breast. 
 And lulled your troubled heart to rest; 
 I made you friends you ne'er have seen, 
 Sang songs, told stories in between. 
 'Tis true, I often caused your fall. 
 Yet painted grandeur on the wall ; 
 I've shown you visions 'cross the sea — 
 Now, will you not partake of me? 
 
 "No, never !" 
 
 IIP. 
 
I scattered j^looni, I killed your [tain; 
 No ji^eniis survive wlieie 1 remain ; 
 I helped you on through journeys drear, 
 Though others fell you knew no fear; 
 T fought your troubles in dismay 
 I'ntil I drove tluMu all away. 
 Wouldst thou have chosen without nu' 
 Thy loving- wife, so dear to thee? 
 With voice so sweet, face like a (pieen? 
 Was it not I that ste^jpod between? 
 I thought this woman best for thee. 
 Now, will you not partake of me? 
 
 "No, never !" 
 
 Go search the world from zone to zone; 
 You'll find none better than your own; 
 And that sweet babe with golden hair 
 I know but few that can compare; 
 Her hands like lilies in repose. 
 Her cheeks like blushes of the rose; 
 Her voice so sweet, so soft, so mild, 
 There's no such other darling child. 
 And now you say you'll cast me out 
 When I did bring all this about? 
 Now, after all I did for thee. 
 Won't you once more partake of me? 
 
 "J will!" 
 
 117 
 
"Thanks to the son wlio lowered the rod' 
 
 118 
 
01)10 TO THE SPIIOLBUSCH FOUNTAIN. 
 
 O, beautiful fountaiu I so holy and jj^ood, 
 Adorning the place where the old market stood; 
 Where mammoth iron bars were bolted in rows. 
 Where horses fought Hies, now a green carpet grows. 
 
 Thy dome is not lofty, thy cups are not gold. 
 The people here tlock like sheep to the fold; 
 Mothers, to children, for pitchers will call ; 
 There is plenty to spare, and enough for us all. 
 
 On every morn, between three and four, 
 
 I quench my thirst from thy bountiful store; 
 
 As in the tin cup I thy |)urity view, 
 
 A short little verse is whispered for you. 
 
 O, beautiful fountain I this is my song : 
 
 To the memory erected of one that is gone. 
 
 All thanks to the son who lowered the rod 
 
 That brought to the peo]»le one blessing of God! 
 
 lIO 
 
'There comes mv mother-in-law" 
 
 ILH) 
 
WHAT'S THE MATTKR WITH HIM, THICN? 
 
 What's Ihe niattor with a feller 
 
 When he can stand no more. 
 And asks a big policeman 
 
 To show him to the door? 
 His wife wakes from her sUnuber: 
 
 -What kept yon ont so late? 
 I have a mind to leave yon. 
 
 And seek another mate!" 
 
 What's the matter with a feller 
 
 When he tries to get in bed 
 With shoes and hat still on him. 
 
 And a buzzing in his head? 
 His wife takes up the i»oker 
 
 To show the latest feats:— 
 "Tonight will be your last, sir. 
 
 If you s<»il my new sheets." 
 
 What's the unitter with a feller 
 
 When his hat eannot be found; 
 When he rises from his sluuiber 
 
 n< 
 
 And his head goes round and rou 
 His wife has had her breakfast. 
 
 The children are in school; 
 She gives him one side look, with :— 
 
 -You ought to die, you fool!" 
 
 What's the matter with a feller 
 
 When he peers between the bars. 
 With sentrv's eyes upon him, 
 
 He thinks that they are stars? 
 He cries out: ''Twinkle, twinkle, 
 
 I'm in a land that's free; 
 Quite sure that it's heaven; 
 
 There's angels' eyes cm me." 
 
 V,hat's the matter with a feller 
 
 When he lies upon the track. 
 Sees the locomotive coming. 
 
 Thinks liis mother in-law is back? 
 Savs he to it: "Dear :N[other. 
 
 I've been out, I must confess ; 
 Don't cast those eyes upon me." 
 
 ^Yell—he's i»retty drunk, T guess. 
 
 121 
 
 1 •? 
 
'As dnst I am, unto dust I'll icturn* 
 
 i2:> 
 
THE KIVER OF DEATH. 
 
 I'm seated this <l;i.v (Hi a lonely shore, 
 
 Green sprigs around me are j»Towin}i-; 
 The squirrel S])oris as he did of yore 
 
 And tlie beech its seed is so\vinj» ; 
 Pale the leaves that kiss father sun. 
 
 The frost their stems will soon sever; 
 On to the sea a river doth run, 
 
 ^lerrily, yet silly as ever. 
 
 The once handsonu' vine has ai)i>lied for lis rest, 
 
 It fears the wild, stormy weather; I 
 
 The squirrel is takinji' its sails for his nest. 
 
 Its fruits November will gather ; 
 Here wheels of time for centuries have tuined. 
 
 With God alone at the lever. 
 All nature Avaits ])atiently, unccmcerned, 
 
 Listenino- the winds, blowino- ever. 
 
 It's not so with mortals who dwell here below; 
 
 There is one I have fondly embraced. 
 To the domain of death Avas called long- ago. 
 
 Her smile has ne'er been effaced ; 
 I wonder some day will she beckon 1o me. 
 
 To cross that wide, stormy river? 
 Will she stand on the shore, and list to my oar. 
 
 Laughing merrily as ever? 
 
 It seems so strange that I should fear death. 
 
 Yet I care not to tarry here ever; 
 Some day when I'm old I'll welcome the fold 
 
 Of the shrould that will wind me forever. 
 As dust I am, unto dust I'll return, 
 
 I'll dream of no pain, neither joy ; 
 In a twinkling I'm changed, but back [ return 
 
 To her wliom I loved when a boy. 
 
 12:1 
 
'Pants Fvo but this pair" 
 
 A TRAMPS PLIGHT. 
 
 "I am }»ooi', lady, yet abide with the law. 
 I come from the south — from old Arkaiisaw : 
 I've met with misfortune, on land and on sea ; 
 I pray thee, kind lady, take pity on me. 
 My wants are not many, to please is no lask. 
 Therefore, sweet lady, "rant all that I ask. 
 I'd like some hot coffee, and doughnuts besides, 
 A chnnk of fat pork, with lean on all sides. 
 A pie cut in halves, some bread if yon ]>lease. 
 
 124 
 
The leg of a cock, and limburger cheese; 
 
 I'd like a lew eggs, if you've i)lenty to s]»ai'o; 
 
 t «<»uld also relish an apple and i)ear. 
 
 I could drink hard cider if brought on a tray. 
 
 If bottled up neatly I'll take it away; 
 
 Please grant this requet^t and then I will pass. 
 
 Will call here next winter and mow off your grass. 
 
 I appreciate kindness when minus the ]»rice. 
 
 Will return every August to pack away ice. 
 
 My wife she is ill in a far distant land, 
 
 I've a son in Chicago who ]»lays in the ban<l ; 
 
 My daiighter, bakes pies in the Astor Hotel. 
 
 My business on earth is to represent Hell." 
 
 "Well, I have a dog representing that place. 
 
 He wears a bob tail and a smile on his face; 
 
 He's a tender old fellow, he sheds many tears, 
 
 ]iut can't hear a sound — we sheared oft' his ears ; 
 
 No sign of mercy ever on him was ])ut ; 
 
 I'll show you, vile knave, he is quick upon foot.'' 
 
 ''Call off your, dog. Madam, ])ants I've but one pair, 
 
 I've worn them some time, and they're easy to tear; 
 
 Well, why don't you call hiui'? Why are you so slow? 
 
 I feel something rip. the seat soon will go." 
 
 "There's no use in calling, he can't hear a word ; 
 
 'Pon my soul, it's a wonder to me that he stirred ; 
 
 He slept 'neath the stove all summer, I vow. 
 
 But seems to be doing his duty just now." 
 
 "Call louder, Madam, I've no clothes to spare I 
 
 There's either a dog or a hurricane there ; 
 
 The fangs of the Devil himself I'd prefer 
 
 To those in my pants, and the growl of your curl" 
 
 "Climb a tree," was the cry from the lady behind. 
 
 "Surely I'll climb the first thing I find." 
 
 He climbed a tree like a sailor the mast. 
 
 And the dog held fast to his prey to the last. 
 
 Again she replied to the tramp's frightful sound. 
 
 And persuaded the dog to remain on the ground. 
 
 "These pants," said the tramp, "no longer will fit." 
 
 "Turn round," said the lady, "till I see where you're bit." 
 
 "I don't think I will," said he with a frown, 
 
 "I'll remain as I am till the sun shall go down; 
 
 When darkness shall banish all traces of day. 
 
 Then, perchance, lady, I'll wander away." 
 
 The lady and dog at this took their flight. 
 
 And the tramp disap]>eared in the darkness of night. 
 
'Their jaws were loi-kod in deadly oiubraee. 
 
 120 
 
PAUL JONES OX THE SEA. 
 
 Ye have lieaid of l*aul .Iunet>!, Aineiica's hei(», 
 
 Who eoininanded the "Jiichaid,"" a dog of the sea; 
 
 Also the "Serapis," coiiniiaiided by I'ieisoiis — 
 One for the King, one the Land of the Free. 
 
 The tlight of the Kiehard willi }>ea(e long ha<l tarried, 
 Till a bold British Lion, in breezes away. 
 
 Swung from a mast of the great gunner Serapis, 
 Defying the stars in a bloody atfray. 
 
 l*aul Jones soon sighted the Lion in frenzy. 
 
 And changing the course of his dog of the tide ; 
 "Who's there?'' signaled Piersons with emphatic demeanor, 
 
 "Who's there?" in reply Jones gave a broadside. 
 
 Tlie moon in its beauty shone peacefully o'er them. 
 The soft breezes bore their emblems as one; 
 
 The sea was quietly taking her shnnber. 
 
 As three hours of the world's greatest fighting begun. 
 
 The response Avas ]u-om]>t — the enemy cursing — 
 Each in their maddening attempt to aspire; 
 
 Nearer and nearer drifted the fighters, 
 Deciding their fate with a t^nritic tire. 
 
 One fathom of brine lies only between them. 
 
 Lamentable shrieks are heaid now and then ; 
 The eighteen-pounders still dealing out carnage. 
 
 And pouring their hell on the bodies of men. 
 
 The dogs of war are brushing each other, 
 
 f'^ach one determined the other erase; 
 Jones with chains now binds them together. 
 
 Their jaws are locked in a deadly embrace. 
 
 The English, below, swept all from the Richard, 
 
 All but the mainmast were now shot away, 
 Yet high on deck stood America's heroes. 
 Their six and nine-pounders still firing at bay. 
 
 The Kiehard is rent, and filling with Avater, 
 
 Prisoners unbound, they pump, every one; 
 One gunner dumbfounded, cries "Quarters! Oh, Quarters!" 
 
 Jones here laid him out Avith tlie butt of a gun. 
 
 127 
 
''Quarters demand you?" cried out the bold Piereons, 
 "Have you concluded that we're in the right?'' 
 
 ^'Quarters be damned," cries Jones, unrelenting, 
 "We've not yet begun, ye cowards, to fight !" 
 
 In'ow a mighty cheer went up for their leader, 
 
 With muskets and cannons their decks they did sweep 
 
 Their mainmast is falling, their ship is fast sinking. 
 Sure, no braver heroes e'er fought on the deeji. 
 
 Men board their ship, Jones loudly is calling, 
 Already thrice wounded, his saber he drew; 
 
 Was followed by men who never knew falter, 
 
 They tapped the blood veins of the Lion's brave crew, 
 
 "Quarters 1 Give (piarters I" in frenzy cried Piersons. 
 
 "We're licked I" The bold Lion no longer can roar; 
 Both vessels on fire, and slowly were sinking, 
 
 Jones in life boats bore the living to shore. 
 
 The two shattered vessels went down with the lifeless, 
 Gallant and brave were the ill-fated tars; 
 
 Their white bones, now amber, are floating together, 
 And none can now tell the Lions from Stars. 
 
 
 12S 
 
WHEN I WAS WKATni:i: PKOlMliyp. 
 
 When I was weatlier i»i<>]>liet 
 
 1 turned my 'scope (»n Mars, 
 And then I fixed the focus 
 
 To view the moon and stars; 
 I next gazed on the jjalaxy 
 
 And the halo which it forms. 
 And told the world in general 
 
 That it would soon see storms. 
 
 I told uien that a whirl wind 
 
 Had started way out west. 
 And all our ])leasant weather 
 
 Would shortly be sui>}tressed ; 
 I told them that to kettles 
 
 Cold icicles would cliny. 
 And winds that are now (|uiet 
 
 Throu<»h for(^sts soon would slug'. 
 
 I told them that a blizzard 
 
 Came at a fearful rate; 
 It started out froui Texas 
 
 Or some such western state; 
 " 'Twill swee]> the tops of mountains, 
 
 So fierce will be its blast; 
 'Twill shatter every rain-cloud, 
 
 And sink both tuc and uiast." 
 
 My bulletin next morninji" 
 
 Read : "Rouse ye, every one. 
 And smoke your jjlasses over. 
 
 There's an ecli]»se on the sun. 
 The world will be in darkness 
 
 And lovers now may stroll." 
 The next day T feared a fiinthead 
 
 Might penetrate uiy soul. 
 
 129 
 
I told thein liow for miles away 
 
 A great storm I could see; 
 'Twould knock down old Mount Everett, 
 
 Drive waters from the sea. 
 I then bade all sea captains 
 
 Heek shelter without fail. 
 And for a month to furl up 
 
 The riiiii'ius imd the sail. 
 
 'f^S?' 
 
 I sent good news to Arabs 
 
 Who ride their camels tall, 
 To start with empty canteens. 
 
 For heavy rains would fall ; 
 The oases will be teeming 
 
 With many a cooling mere; 
 The albatross will be there — 
 
 The first time in the year. 
 
 I sent good news to fai'mers. 
 
 Through the farmer's Magazine, 
 That ere long all the meadows 
 
 Would be bedecked with green ; 
 For the weather will be lovely 
 
 Since crickets chirj) their song: 
 liut that day came a blizzard 
 
 And T again Avas wrong. 
 
 I told men 'bout the North Pole, 
 
 Its degree and latitude. 
 And whosoe'er would reach it 
 
 Should have my gratitude; 
 T t<»ld them Avhen the weather 
 
 Would be mild or cold; 
 T told them all in Greenland 
 
 Methoueht the ice Avould hold. 
 
 I told them that a simo(m 
 
 Would strike a far-off land, 
 AVhich riders of the camels 
 
 AA'ould bury up in sand; 
 I su]i]tose that there are ])eo]»le 
 
 Who then on me relied. 
 Who still in sand lie buried 
 
 As underneath a tide. 
 
 130 
 
J si)oke of the four .seasons, 
 
 And changes of the moon, 
 I said there'll be a comet 
 
 In the sky now pretty soon; 
 I told men when to visit 
 
 Their native land abroad, 
 Till some one finally i)ublished 
 
 That I was a vile fraud. 
 
 This kind o' hurt my business 
 
 Tn an underhanded way. 
 The second printer published 
 
 What the first one had to say 
 I thought I'd quit that business 
 
 While as yet I held together. 
 Still, I did as well as Foster 
 
 As a prophet of the weather. 
 
 131 
 
THE FARMEirS LOT. 
 
 Say, 1 don't like tliis farming — 
 Tlie jnofit comes in dribs. 
 
 Besides yon get a tlinm]nng 
 Qnite often in the rilis. 
 
 The frost killed all my i»nm])kins, 
 
 The snn melted my ice, 
 A liail-storm killed my goslings. 
 
 And lightning strnck me twice. 
 
 My wheat is slowly dying. 
 
 My oats refnse to grow, 
 My sijnash-seii'ds all have rotted. 
 
 And there's no grass to mow. 
 
 Potatoes never s])ronted, 
 
 The beans all failed to sAvell. 
 
 A hawk stole all my chickens 
 And frogs lilled njt my well. 
 
 A neighbor stole my tnrkey, 
 An engine killed my cow; 
 
 A boy destroyed my roller, 
 Another broke my ]dow. 
 
 These nniles are slowly starving. 
 They go by jerks and reels; 
 
 All tliat of life Avas left them 
 Has gcme into their heels. 
 
 My sheep arc fast decreasing — 
 Death claims one every day; 
 
 I'm dealing now in bn<'k-skins 
 For lack of grain and hay. 
 
 This farm was jnst a i>resent — 
 To stay doth me behoove. 
 
 Did T not love my neighbor, 
 
 I'd shoot these mnles and move. 
 
 132 
 
I cinuKtt uiuleistand it. 
 
 Why the Lord did heir me send 
 V]H)u tin's l)aiTen desert — 
 
 I (jurt iiiMke enough to sjiend. 
 
 Had 1 hut cash in jilenty, 
 \\\ leave the i)low and hoe. 
 
 Nor would I mules be drivinii' 
 Amid such toil and woe. 
 
 rd seek some other labor. 
 Perhaps start out in biz ; 
 
 But when T think it over, 
 ■Tis better as it is. 
 
 Ki:; 
 
THE DAWN OF A DAY. 
 
 Ho! sons, arise! 'Tis the dawn of day. 
 The robins chirp, the lambs they play; 
 We'll clear away the virgin soil. 
 Want seldom comes to those who toil; 
 The sun will soon climb yonder hill. 
 And ]»aint its beauty in the rill. 
 The ant's at work, the birds they sing. 
 The bee will soon be on the wing. 
 Ho! sons, arise! The night has Hown, 
 I'll help you plow, you may reap aU»ne. 
 
 \Vorldly men of every creed. 
 Kings and queens, we farmers feed ; 
 Beggars, too, they live somehow ; 
 We earn all by the sweating l)r(>w. 
 We'll fill the barns with golden grain. 
 We'll fill the mammoth mows again. 
 We'll suiile when winter sends its 1)1 ast. 
 And snow and ice sweep swiftly past. 
 Your mother's span is almost trod. 
 We will si»on be reaped by the arm of (fod. 
 
 1:51 
 
SELFADULATTON. 
 
 They call me a doo — well, T am, T suppose — 
 Criticised is my tail, my teetli and my nose; 
 I'm kicked if T don't obey all that is said. 
 And many's the time T wisluMl myself dea<l. 
 
 I've this much to say — if T can't lauj^ii and talk. 
 And ])nll on my ca}), stand ii]) and walk — 
 
 T never get drunk, and threaten men's lives, 
 Or wink on the streets at other doe's wives. 
 
 I'm never in jail, nor afraid of my God — 
 No officer follows the ])ath whidi I trod — 
 
 My conscience is pnre, my life all can view, 
 Look well as some men, I'll leave it to you. 
 
EARTH'S CKEATION, 
 
 God iiiiule the earth, the moon, the stars, 
 
 The rainbow in the sky. 
 The glorions sun that oiyes ns lijiht 
 
 p]ach day from heaven on hij»h ; 
 He made the valleys, hills and seas 
 
 By His alnnghty ])owers ; 
 He next made Adam ont of dnst 
 
 And ]»la(ed him midst the flowers. 
 
 Adam saw the progress of the earth, 
 
 He viewed its vast domains. 
 As nnderneath ihe tree he s;it 
 
 And scanned its fertile ]»lains; 
 Winds would toss the frothing brine. 
 
 Vast hills arose on ])lain. 
 His eyes would ope, as craters shrink. 
 
 Though soon to close again. 
 
 The Lord incjuired unto the cause 
 
 Why he was heavy laden; 
 Then Adam spoke unto the Lord, 
 
 "I'm lonely for a maiden." 
 The Lord said, "Sleep I" And Adam slept- 
 
 He awoke and all was done. 
 And there beside him sat a maid 
 
 As radiant as the sun. 
 
 ''The work is o'er," thus s])ake tlie Lord, 
 
 ''And Eve slie shall be named." 
 Said Adam, "She's so sweet and fair, 
 
 This face makes me ashamed." 
 The answer came, "You'll here remain. 
 
 Each other's soul to thrill ; 
 You'll have dominion o'er the earth. 
 
 The beasts, the sea, tlie hill. 
 
 "On yonder tree there groweth fruit; 
 
 Ry no hand shall it fall ; 
 This vast donuiin t(t thee 1 give. 
 
 That you may rule it all." 
 Soon Eve left Adam, and ere bmg 
 
 Tveturned and asked his ]»ardon. 
 ''T ])lucked the fruit thai ycmder grew" — 
 
 God drove her from the garden. 
 
 130 
 
Then Adam said, "T, too, will jio. 
 
 We'll ask anoflier home; 
 I'd rather dwell on yonder rock 
 
 Than in this place, all alone." 
 They left the place at (lOd's command. 
 
 Their roof was clonds above — 
 And thns began the birth of man, 
 
 With this sacrifice for love. 
 
 This tells the bravery of the fair 
 
 And how this life was <>ained. 
 She was a hero from her goal, 
 
 A title still maintained. 
 Were Adam first to taste the frnit 
 
 That greAV npon that tree, 
 Upon a lojj he yet wonld sit 
 
 Enrapted in miseiy. 
 
 He who dotli speak of her as' false 
 
 When tempted, how she fell. 
 Knows not that his existence here 
 
 Caused her the ])ains of hell. 
 The heart that beats in Avoman's breast 
 
 Ts jHire as bnds of May, 
 Comi>ared with man, who plants his seed, 
 
 Then forever walks away. 
 
 The ijjnorant say that women talk — 
 
 Are plumed, are shelled and })earled— 
 Well, have they not a right to talk? 
 
 They're the Mothers of the world. 
 Man goeth forth with i)ick and spade. 
 
 And downcast, solemn mien; 
 He'll build a castle in the air. 
 
 Then who must keep it clean? 
 
 True, man will face the cannon's roar. 
 
 The enemy will rid; 
 Rut no man ever rauimed more shots 
 
 Than Mollie Pitcher did. 
 Brave Barbara Frietsche Avaved the flag 
 
 From out the window sill ; 
 ''This is the one I love, Stonewall, 
 
 Now shot me if vou will !" 
 
 1:^,7 
 
No man has ever soared so lii^li 
 
 That woman would not go. 
 For love of child mothers have leaped 
 
 To fiery depths below. 
 No. vehicle has moved so fast 
 
 That woman would not ride; 
 No catastrophe has come to earth 
 
 Where she was first to hide. 
 
 Look in the faces of the fair. 
 
 Then on the face of man ; 
 The one is like unto the sun, 
 
 One aglow with hair and tan. 
 One sings heavenly bliss and joy, 
 
 One falsehoods yearns to tell ; 
 Like doves among the buzzai-ds wild. 
 
 Come women here to dwell. 
 
 I could speak long of her goodness, 
 
 Her enemies I defy ; 
 Were there no women on this eaith, 
 
 'Tis true I'd yrny to die. 
 For they are godly gifts to man, 
 
 And many times I've wondered : 
 If man is blessed with a woman's love, 
 
 What of him who has a hundred? 
 
 138 
 
01 K MARTYKED 
 PliEt^lDENT. 
 
 Aineiica mkiuiiis.' her sons and 
 their sires, 
 
 ^len fioin ahroad send grief o'er 
 the wires; 
 
 -Matrons and daughters shed many 
 a tear, 
 
 For McKinley. our idoJ, lies cold 
 on his bier. 
 
 139 
 
OUK AIAKTYREI) FKESIDENT. 
 
 From the lionie of tlie chosen, yon decided to go, 
 And make them a visit at old lUitt'alo; 
 To the vilest of demons yon extended your hand, 
 While the fatal shot fell thee, O, pride of onr land! 
 
 'Twas few days th<m linger'st, and death relieved pain, 
 Men spoke of recovery aj>ain and again; 
 At last came this message: "All hojte is now Hed. 
 Czolgosz is a mnrderer; the President's dead." 
 
 To the martyr's bier his i-emains they soon bore; 
 T^incoln and (iartield have slept there before; 
 Three noble men, who rnled well onr lands. 
 All brought to their tombs by murderers' liands. 
 
 Whe'er the stars shine thy absence is felt ; 
 May the blessings of God rest on Roosevelt; 
 May he execute ]»lans o'er the Land of the Free, 
 And well fill the seat vacated by thee. 
 
 All flags are half-masted on this mournful day, 
 And slowly they tread as they bear thee away; 
 Thou hast well done thy duty by all from thy goal — 
 McKinley, our hero, sweet ])eace to thy soul ! 
 
 140 
 
IMOTiam TION. 
 
 There was silence in the cluuiiber ; — 
 (V>()l<>(>sz seated in tlie chaii-. 
 
 Wires hnnmied the sad death rattle, 
 FIashin<> bine li<ilit here and there. 
 
 The warden orasped the lever 
 
 That switclied the well-aimed blow 
 
 And asked the treinl)lin<i- enlprit : 
 "Are von readv, sir, t(» u'o?" 
 
 Czolgosz Keplies 
 
 "1 own I shot MeKinley, 
 For shooting is my cre^d, 
 
 Nor can I say before I die 
 I'm sorrv for the deed. 
 
 '"I swore that 1 wonld kill him. 
 The deed at last was done. 
 
 And now that death doth claim me- 
 Farewell ! my race is rnn. 
 
 "Turn on the cnrrenti I'm ready I" 
 
 No sign of pain he bore; 
 A corpse now in the chair he sat — 
 
 The murderer is no more. 
 
 141 
 
JEA'NIE ARBUCKELL, 
 
 THE FADED FLOWER. 
 
 "Held by the arm of deathly ties 
 At the village of Milroy. 
 
 In dreamless slumber now she lies- 
 My sweetheart Avhen a boy." 
 
 142 
 
TH E FA I H: T> F 1 A > W K 1 1 . 
 
 There once bloomed a blossom, fail- as the sun. 
 
 I first saw its beauty in scnlptnre work done; 
 
 I noticed its colors so brij>ht never fied : 
 
 Brown, white and raven: her cheeks were of red. 
 
 A movable flower, 'tis time thou didst learn, 
 
 \^'ould wander with winds soon to return. 
 
 So sweet were her features, so tender her voice, 
 
 Could I but win her, how I would rejoice! 
 
 Have none learnt to love her? the thouf>ht came to me. 
 
 Doth nobody claim her? Can such a thing- be? 
 
 I met her one night, she was one of a throng, 
 
 I asked where she lived, if the road thence was long. 
 
 '•Well, 'tis rather long," said she with a smile; 
 
 '-You may come if you wish, for it's almost a mile." 
 
 I met there her sister — her mother, most fair — 
 
 They asked me my name — I told them 'twas Hair. 
 
 When thus introduced T soon walked away; 
 
 On leaving, they asked me to call the next day; 
 
 T called in a fortnight, we together did talk. 
 
 And then to the woodland for the first time did walk. 
 
 We spoke of our meeting, so (^ueer it did seem. 
 
 "You'll part" — something told me as if in a dream. 
 
 Thus happy months fled, two hearts beat as one, 
 
 Methought I was sure that the victory was won; 
 
 But a sad change came by the end of the year. 
 
 For sickness had laid its hands on my dear. 
 
 'Twas nmking its progress, surely, though slow. 
 
 T knew that ere long my Jennie must go. 
 
 She said to me once, in a soft, trembling tone, 
 
 " 'Tis the will of the Lord that T leave thee alone; 
 
 T know I must die and soon soar away. 
 
 But one thing I ask thee, grant it, T pray: 
 
 My grave keep blooming with flowers most rare. 
 
 And ever remember a true one lies there." 
 
 A week scarce elapsed, when this message was told. 
 
 We all were in mourning, her lips were now cold. 
 
 Today in the churchyard she takes her sweet rest: 
 
 God called her so young, and why? He knows best! 
 
 Could T leave this bleak earth, to her T would fly. 
 
 Thv name shall not fade! ^fy <larling, good-bye! 
 
 143 
 

 •%-'-w^- 
 
 "I'm only a child toiii^^ht" 
 
 FOK 1 AM ONLY A CHILD TONIGHT. 
 
 Oonld I cast from my sliouldeis few v^ais that lit^ there 
 
 And backward to cliildhood take flight, 
 You'd hear iiiv voice ring out in the air — 
 
 For I'm only a cliild tonislit. 
 
 (Jo bring me the goat tliat oft T have reined, 
 My shaggy dog bring to my sight ; 
 
 Show me the fish that at dawn I seined — 
 For I'm only a child tonight. 
 
 Go bring me the sled T rode when a boy, 
 My ])laymates who ]»nshed me with might; 
 
 Show me the skates that gave me such joy— 
 For Tm only a child tonight. 
 
 14 1 
 
Sliow me the river near wliere 1 have stood, 
 Tlie bullheads that stiiiij>- me for spite; 
 
 Show me my tish rod; Oh! that you could — 
 For I'm only a child tonijiht. 
 
 Oh: where is llu^ girl I loved M'hen a child? 
 
 The tree where each made a vow? 
 I told her by uie she'd ne'er be beouiled — 
 
 I'd love her so different now. 
 
 AVliere are my brothers? Time severed the tie 
 And narrowed the clear, ]im])id rill. 
 
 From where we oft ran our minnows to fry. 
 In the little brick cot on the hill. 
 
 Oh, sliow me the fields of clover, so oreen, 
 Where T dun"- to the cord of my kite. 
 
 And motioned to Koy to toss it aj^ain — 
 For I'm only a child tonight. 
 
 Our neighbors have all in the chariot rode. 
 My parents have entered the line. 
 
 To the silent city to take their abode — 
 All reaped by the sickle of time. 
 
 On the morn I'll forget the message Fve told, 
 Earth's jileasures once more will be bright, 
 
 As onAvard I glide to the tomb drear and cold- 
 Hut I'm onlv a child tonijiht. 
 
 14.5 
 
^■1 ■ $W^^^^^^i^^0' I 
 
 'k^^m^i'mM^^^' 
 
 THE SQITIKREL, DAISY AND STREAM. 
 The Squirrel : 
 
 Said a Squirrel to the Daisy: What a sweet smile! 
 
 I waited for you a j^ood lono- while; 
 
 I clung to this bough as it swung in the air, 
 I thought you'd spring u]» just about there. 
 
 Don't you remember, when I last scaled yon tree, 
 How you sat trembling, for the welfare of me; 
 But you are so tender, and don't grow very tall, 
 Therefore, fair Daisy, you think I may fall. 
 
 The last we spoke was one evening quite late, 
 Little thought I that death was your fate; 
 The winds blew cold, to and fro T was tossed, 
 On the morn I found you laid low by the frost. 
 
 I mourned day and night, for that terrible sting 
 Took you, sweet Daisy, to sleep till the spring; 
 So oft you have seen me at play by your sidf^, 
 I knew you'd return, else Vd pined and died. 
 
 14(J 
 
While you were asleep, hunters passed to and fro. 
 Following the deer by his track in the snow ; 
 
 I've heard in the woodlands the yelp of the hound, 
 I hid in my nest, T feared a death wound. 
 
 The old stream, sweet Daisy, is running near by, 
 Oh! that it would halt and make some reply; 
 Jt must tell its storey to me it doth seem, 
 I'll hear your reply, and then to the stream. 
 
 The Daisy: 
 
 The last I remember, my stem was so cold. 
 My leaves they trembled and began there to fold; 
 When the world grew dark, T knew death was nigh, 
 I cried out, "Come, quickly I" but you were too high. 
 
 I suppose while I slept you've seen many sights. 
 
 Like the doe chased by hunters, over these heights ; 
 I'll wager you mocked men, who lay on yon knoll 
 While taking good aim at you in your hole. 
 
 All nature is beauty ; as in days gone by. 
 
 The sweet moss doth grow, the i>retty birds fly ; 
 
 The world is brightening, the clouds smile on me, — 
 Has the stream changed its course from bay to the sea*? 
 
 Oh 1 had I but been here, a long time ago, 
 I'erhaps I'd have seen melting mountains of snow; 
 I was ready to kiss the sun in the sky 
 Lol a hunter trod on me, I thought I would die. 
 
 Perhaps many men for a season have wept. 
 
 Others drank joy and death while I slejtt; 
 
 It seems but a twinkling I rode on death's wave, — 
 The same shall s|)eak man, when called from the grave. 
 
 My voice has grown weak, dear friend, I must rest. 
 For the sun has sunk low, afar in the West; 
 The curtain he draws will banish all light, 
 I'll list t<» the stream, then close for the night. 
 
 147 
 
THE STKEAM: 
 
 I'll tell thee my story, since 'tis thy request: 
 1 am so weary of drear winter's rest ; 
 
 The bright snn now setting has broken my chain. 
 
 Its links have been severed by showers of lain. 
 
 The fislu's, once lazy, are busy at play. 
 
 And slowly are making their course towards the bay 
 'Twas I that lulled them when weary with chill, 
 But now they. can play with the wheel at the mill. 
 
 I often have sighed, for the twigs on my bank 
 Leaned over the brink and from me they drank. 
 Thinking I'd warn them before 'twas too late, 
 l>ut winter came (piickly and dejith was their fate. 
 
 I was not so lonely, sweet Daisy, as thee, 
 ^yhi]e I lay asleep, many boys trod on me; 
 And the sweetest of women, like ])oet's ])ride. 
 Would come late and early and merrily slide. 
 
 Sweet Ihiisy, you spoke as though I were free; 
 
 Why ask, "have I changed my course to the sea?" 
 When dross, so impure, was all that could run. 
 Till I was unbound by the glorious sun. 
 
 Professor at cliud)ing, I bid thee, adieu I 
 And Daisy, no blossom is sweeter than y(»ul 
 
 I'd be so hajjpy could I next winter shun, — 
 The old mill is (piiet. so I must glide on. 
 
 148 
 
IN MEMOIIY OF HAZEN S. I'INGJIEK. 
 (Written on Funeral Day.) 
 
 Good-by I Hazen Pingive, tliy days lieie are o'er ; 
 You oave men their freedom and fought for the poor, 
 You helped free the states at Lincoln's great call — 
 At last made (Governor, and the best of theui all! 
 
 You were worshipped by women, and loved by most men, 
 
 For charity bestowed again and again; 
 
 And never again will Michigan see 
 
 Her fertile soil governed by a ruler like thee! 
 
 Thy years were not many before the last call, 
 
 Y'et great was the good meted out unto all ; 
 
 The young and the old thy sayings relate; 
 
 You died with great plans for the good of the State. 
 
 That city, Detroit, is in mourning today. 
 
 And crape with the winds most gently doth sway. 
 
 Telling the fate of one who was loyal, 
 
 And marking his grave in Michigan's soil. 
 
 The heart of the timid, the heart of the brave, 
 Now silently beat one uiarcli to the grave; 
 Slowly the tread, the drums scarcely i)lay. 
 For thou, like the flower, art faded away. 
 
 Sweet be thy i)eace in thy last resting ])lace; 
 The earth that thou governed now hideth thy face; 
 Thy great love for charity, your ])eo]>le now tell. 
 Once more and forever, good ruler, farewell ! 
 
 14;) 
 
'I fain would stop, for 1 am weary. 
 
 ino 
 
A WEAKY I'.EM/S APPEAL. 
 
 Another Saldiatli finds iiic s\vin<i,in<;' 
 
 Like till' liaiiinioik to and Iro, 
 Aoain the i<»iie is [»nlled with vi^di- 
 
 I»y the sexton down l»elow. 
 
 Like i'ollin<j,- waves my sound (h)lli Iremble 
 
 Over hill and over jilen ; 
 I make no choice, all are welcome, 
 
 \^^)men prond and tieacherons men. 
 
 Eve hnnj>- Ion*;- in this lone belfjy. 
 
 To and fro 1 swinf> and toss; 
 While once T shone like j>-old in beauty, 
 
 Now I'm covered o'er with moss. 
 
 Another generation listens; 
 
 All who lived when T was cast 
 Slumber in the chui'chyard yonder; 
 
 1 have tolled their knell at last. 
 
 When one is taken from their nund>er 
 
 And his soul forever tied, 
 'Tis then that 1 ring out in sorrow. 
 
 That all may know that one is dead. 
 
 'Tis many years since I was moulded; 
 
 At eveiy sunset I've been swung; 
 I fain would stop, for I am weary 
 
 Of telling all the day is done. 
 
 Oh ! will they ever cast another, 
 
 And take me gently down to rest? 
 
 Might not another voice warn them, 
 Even though mine echoes best? 
 
 Watchmen oft have tire discovered. 
 When the stormy winds did blow; 
 
 'Twas then my knell ]n*oclaimed the danger, 
 From my pivot to and fro. 
 
 Oh 1 take me down and swing another, 
 May it sound a sweeter chime; 
 
 When I'm motionless down yonder. 
 Disturb me not till the end of time. 
 
 151 
 
LIFE AS IT IS IN THE IGNITED STATES REGULAK 
 
 AKMY. 
 
 Wliat : you bid me tell a story? 
 
 Well, hoys, I'll tell yoii one; 
 ^^'el•e you ever in the ainiy? 
 
 No, well you've missed some fun. 
 You've also missed the hardshi])s 
 
 Which ])lague you by tlie score, 
 And many a night in hunger 
 
 In the guard house on the Hoor. 
 Now I'll tell you all about it 
 
 For I went through the null. 
 For years I was a soldier 
 
 Way down in old Fort Sill. 
 My mother wept that morning 
 
 1 bid farewell to her 
 In answer to the calling 
 
 For boys of character. 
 They sent me to Columbus 
 
 Where all drew up in line 
 And whether well or ailing 
 
 They gave us raw (piinine. 
 If a soldier's back was broken 
 
 He by hunger made insane 
 If his limbs were out of order 
 
 'Twas quinine just the same 
 They fed us on slungullion. 
 
 That's suet boiled quite rare; 
 It's ])oured out in tin dishes — 
 
 You can eat or leave it there. 
 I took io slum — one morning — 
 
 Saw in it sometliing new, 
 A chunk of lean — uj) went my arm — 
 
 'Twas the heel of the old cook's shoe. 
 Fish balls were offered daily. 
 
 You can smell them while they cook. 
 On pie, cake and yellow butter 
 
 We never took a look- 
 Chicory water there is plenty 
 
 P>ut milk and sugar none. 
 Meat uTubs thev sauff and si/zled 
 
 l.~2 
 
When the fi-yinji- wjis l)e<>iiii. 
 Fish tails and scales left over, 
 
 Jiiead ernsts and other trash 
 Are j>athered nj) tojiether 
 
 To make the next day's hash. 
 I remember how a huckster 
 
 At Fort Sill drove to mart — 
 And asked onr trusty sar<>eau1 
 
 To buy hens from his cart. 
 Said he few are not living 
 
 And some are still alive 
 There yours if you purchase — 
 
 These few that yet survive. 
 He bought them for a jnttance 
 
 Then notified the men. 
 Boys — chicken i)ie touiorrow 
 
 Ten soldiers to one hen. 
 How every mouth di<l water 
 
 At the very thought of chick 
 Now all drew up in order. 
 
 All ready for the pick. 
 Of all the horrid creatures 
 
 They called them hens and cocks 
 Some dead, and th<fse yet living 
 
 ^^'ere reeling in the box. 
 1 made a dive and got one. 
 
 Its skin was black as soot 
 He looked like Colonel Daggett, 
 
 When he had his whiskers cut. 
 You ask about the canteen 
 
 Well — that's- a uiere saloon 
 Where a soldier who has money 
 
 Can fill u]) like a loon. 
 I mean if there is jdenty 
 
 Of sour mash and brew 
 They'll sell it to a ])rivate 
 
 When the oflftcers are through. 
 When shoulder stra]»s from elsewliere 
 
 Would congi-egate at Sill 
 We'd get this word from Colonel 
 
 The cannons are to fill. 
 Then hoist our flag of freedoui 
 
 And fire the meriy cheer 
 Teamsters with their <»xeu 
 
 Would start for mash and beer. 
 T once went to the Canteen 
 
 To order eggs rare done. 
 
 153 
 
The cook was diunk and sleeping 
 
 Bt^iieatli the noonday sun, 
 I aw<»ke him with much trouble 
 
 And sat liim to liis work 
 Whicli lie on such occasions 
 
 By all means tried to shirk. 
 He turned them till he burned them 
 
 On his head I them did spill. 
 Then Daggett — that old tyrant — 
 
 Did send me to the mill. 
 I stayed there near a fortnight 
 
 And wheeled a cart each day; 
 'Twas filled with noxious matter 
 
 That men would throAv away. 
 A sentry stood behind me 
 
 And held a loaded gun. 
 He had strict orders given 
 
 To shoot me if T run. 
 I once went to the l^octor, 
 
 I had a swollen knee 
 He tirst took dawn his (juinine 
 
 Before he looked at me. 
 What is it ails the jiris'ner? 
 
 Sir, he fell u])on the draw — 
 Give him twenty grains of quinine 
 
 And give it to him raw. 
 The worst of all is coming. 
 
 When you s}>y a shoulderstraj) 
 If outside, you must halt, salute — 
 
 Tf inside, raise your cap. 
 If you to one need to say 
 
 I from hunger soon will die. 
 To the Sergeant for ])ermission 
 
 You promptly must apply. 
 You'll stand then like a statue 
 
 With ])erfect heel and toe. 
 If you forget to raise your hand 
 
 To the guard house you will go. 
 'Tis a shame to the great nation, 
 
 The pittance that they ])ay — 
 It's quinine every hour. 
 
 A.nd forty cents per day. 
 Yet one thing more I'll tell you — 
 
 This I'm ashauied to (piote. 
 But a private in the army 
 
 Is not allowed to vote. 
 Yes, boys, they think a soldier 
 
 154 
 
Is fai: beneath a cur, 
 Yet all our ])ai)ers call for 
 
 "Young- men of character." 
 The captain's dog and 1 were friends — 
 
 Oft times I stroked her head. 
 One day I took her dinner 
 
 And gave her mine instead. 
 She kioked upon that onion — 
 
 That drv bread, hard and stab'; 
 From that time on, she gjowled a( me 
 
 And nevei- wagged her tail. 
 When Teddy Hred the negro 
 
 With tent and haversack. 
 Had I three years to serve 
 
 I'd wish I were a black. 
 We read the old war stories 
 
 How men fought nights and days — 
 The soldiers did the tighting 
 
 While shoulder straps reai)ed praise 
 You swear to shield old glory 
 
 And all intruders thrash 
 And with it you take oath to live 
 
 Five years on slum and hash. 
 I'd today tight for my country; 
 
 If they'd banish every elf, 
 I'd salute no watermelon head 
 
 And ask to board myself. 
 Should my boy ever ask me, 
 
 Dear Father can you tell 
 Me something of the army 
 
 For it's army now or hell? 
 I'd tell him in plain phrases 
 
 My son, remember well. 
 You may select the army — 
 
 P>ut your father, he'd take hell. 
 
 1,^).-) 
 
LAKE EKIE I\ CALM AND ]N STOKM. 
 
 In Calm : 
 
 I lie in cahii, tlioiioii ajiainst my Avill 
 
 I lull inv dead, the winds are still; 
 A gentle wave o'er my bosom creeps. 
 In fact my body soundly sleejjs. 
 
 The boats, they gently glide along; 
 
 Hark to the jolly sailors' song! 
 O'er my waters, loud and el ear. 
 The chorus rings, "We need not fear. 
 
 But ah I this promise is not loyal, 
 
 156 
 
Though T gently wasli the soil ; 
 On land they say of me tonight, 
 "Hehold the lake in beauty blight 1" 
 
 They think Til ever thus remain, 
 
 And lie here quiet as a plain; 
 
 They see me smile — they'll see me scowl, 
 
 Ila! Ha! the winds begin to howl! 
 
 In Storm : 
 
 No hmger will I lull my dead, 
 
 I throw them from their peaceful bed; 
 
 I foam! I shriek! so all can hear; 
 
 And those who sang now jtray in feai-. 
 I steered their boat where others lie, 
 In s])ite of signals shooting high; 
 
 ril sink them now, while they are caged, 
 
 The winds are here, and I'm enraged! 
 I've sent a wave to yonder shore. 
 The danger light shines there no more; 
 
 Their crew rests in a watery grave, 
 
 Their boat I've rent by a mighty wave. 
 Ha ! Ha ! another's made a sieve 
 And her life boats cannot live; 
 
 Men and women shriek in vain! 
 
 My work is done, ni-sleo]) again. 
 
 157 
 
THE OLD DRUM AND I. 
 
 When our country feared trouble, and called for brave men, 
 
 And, ''we'll take a boy," I read, "now and then," 
 
 My heart leaped with joy, though younf?, it was true, 
 
 I yearned for a suit of Uncle Sam's blue. 
 
 I approached my dear mother — at rest 'neath the trees — 
 And asked for my drum, that I might swarm bees ; 
 Said I, "I'll return with team by and by." 
 Then off to the war went the old drum and T. 
 
 In Detroit we landed, eight-thirty that night. 
 When the Hag met my gaze — the red, blue and white — 
 I told the old Captain, three years we would try 
 To protect that dear banner — the old drum and I. 
 
 He made me take oath my superiors obey — 
 The drum said 'twould sound anything I would play; 
 We marked time that night, like the clouds in the sky. 
 Oh! we were so happy, the old drum and I. 
 
 On the morn came the blast of the horn on the air; 
 We were recruits, but the first to be there; 
 We knew not the tune, yet there on the sly 
 We got in a roll, the old drum and I. 
 
 When pay day came round, regardless of fear. 
 
 One filled up on wind, the other on beer; 
 
 The sentry with gun soon made us fiy 
 
 To the dingy old guard house, the old drum and I. 
 
 And here as I lived on water and bread, 
 I oft took my drum and pound its old head; 
 The guards on their posts did hear his loud cry. 
 Still ne'er did they part us, the old drum and I. 
 
 For thirty-three times we tasted the breath 
 Of the ding;v old cell, more solemn than death. 
 The old floor would creak, the hinges would sigh. 
 As they closed in upon us, the old drum and I. 
 
 ir.8 
 
Relief canic' at la.st, our freedom had come. 
 
 Oh! how we rejoiced, myself and the drum; 
 
 We marched to our comrades, and bade them <;()od h.v 
 
 And came back to mother, the old drum and I. 
 
 Farewell! to the guard house; farewell! dismal cell; 
 Farewell ! to the army, the straight road to hell ; 
 Your mode of starvation me years did defy. 
 No more will we serve thee, the old drum and I. 
 
 159 
 
The poet nt one tiuie j^ave a poetie recital at Byron, Mich., whicli lie slianiefully 
 is forced to admit, lies near his Itirthplace. None of his old associates conld under- 
 stand his mission, consequently the audience was very small. The editor of the 
 Byron Herald, who is yet unable to tell a pump from an elevator, wrote Hair up 
 in his one-sheet paper, after borrowing type from a friend, and here is the poet's 
 reply : 
 
 ♦ — . * 
 
 To "James Sleetli, Editor of JJviou Herald. liyroii, Mich.'' In 
 reply to yours of recent date, would say: 
 
 The paper you edit 
 
 To you is no credit ; 
 
 I've read it again and again, sir; 
 
 Your writings are soft, 
 
 Afar in your loft 
 
 There's a great lacking of brains, sir. 
 
 Your wit is outrageous ; 
 
 That your breath's not contagious 
 
 Has caused uie to smile and to laugh, sir; 
 
 Were I you, I'd not fear 
 
 To probe out my ear 
 
 And inject the brain of a calf. sir. 
 
 I'd shave otf my "stasch," 
 
 Eat a little more hash, 
 
 I'd till out those hand-me-down j)ants, sir; 
 
 That you live by your jien. 
 
 And charitable uien. 
 
 One can readily tell at a glance, sir. 
 
 You borrowed the letters 
 
 To write up your betters, 
 
 Your light it is darkness and fog, sir; 
 
 Y'our press is so queer, 
 
 I looked for its gear 
 
 And could find neither wheel or a cog, sir. 
 
 So now, JMr. Sleetli, 
 
 You can show your black teeth. 
 
 With me it will ever be well, sir; 
 
 For I fear not a pen 
 
 Racked by brains of a hen — 
 
 Don't look for uie when you're in hell, sir. 
 
FATHEK'S OLD CHAIK. 
 
 Harm not Father's chair, though far from complete; 
 
 One rocker is gone, and torn is tlie seat ; 
 
 One leg is broken, that stands in the rear. 
 
 Yet he would be welcomed today, were he here. 
 
 Many a song in that chair has been sung — 
 
 I'll mention a few I've heard when (|uite young — 
 
 He sang ''Sally Russell, "Poor Jack and His Uride," 
 
 "The Sayer's Heenan Tussle," and "Slide, Kelly, Slide," 
 
 ''Among the Sweet Daisies," "A Trip Through the Kye," 
 
 "The Irishnum's Chaises," and "Sweet liy and By/' 
 
 "The Charming Young Widow," "The Isle of the (ireen," 
 
 "The Cows in the Meadow," "The Birth of the Queen," 
 
 161 
 
"Fair Lady Leroy," **Hew Straight to the Line," 
 
 "Come Early My Boy" and "Old Brandy Wine." 
 
 "Sweet Kitty Clyde,'"' "The Hat Fatlier ' Wore," 
 
 ''The Pauper's Last Ride" and "Erin's Green Shore," 
 
 "Gone Away with a Coon,'' "Dear Jack Now be Sly," 
 
 "Roll on Silver Moon" and "Sweet Nelly Bly," 
 
 "Three Leaves of Shamrock,'' "It's Naughty but Nice," 
 
 "The Logs on the -lamrock," "I'm Minus the Price," 
 
 "The Gipsies Warning," "The Chest and the Tailor," 
 
 ''The Judgment Morning'' and "The Dark-Eyed Sailor," 
 
 "Kentucky's Green Shore," ''The Harp on the Tree," 
 
 ''There's Thousands in Store, but Just One for Me," 
 
 "^ly Darling Minnie,'' "The Maid on the Shore," 
 
 ''To Old Virginia, AVhere Sweet Billows Roar," 
 
 "Brave Captain AVard," "Perry and Bird," 
 
 "Give Praise to the Lord," "I'm a Man of Aly AA^ud," 
 
 "Erin Go Bragh," and "Lannagan's Ball," 
 
 ''No Justice in Law," "A Little Too Small,'' 
 
 '•AAlllis and Mary," "Pat Has the Gout," 
 
 "AAlth You I'll Not Tarry," "My Ala Knows I'm Out.*' 
 
 ''The Ojsterman Tall," "The Man in the Moon," 
 
 "The Trumpet's Last Call," "Gone with a Balloon," 
 
 "The Bob Tailed Alare," "Marie of the Aloor," 
 
 '•The Bridal Pair," "I've Been There Before,'' 
 
 "Sweet Barbara Allen," ''Dad's Dinner Pail," 
 
 "Jericho's Fallen" and ''Dan Rice's Bail,'' 
 
 ''The Methodist Parson," "The Alule in the Stall," 
 
 ''The Adventures of Carson," "The Hand on the AA'all." 
 
 He sang many others, I'll not mention here. 
 
 Mine eyes are quite blinded with many a tear; 
 
 Make room in the ]»arlor and let it stand there. 
 
 If you love me, dear brother, preserve the old chair. 
 
 302 
 
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 WHILE THE MOON IN ITS Sl'LENDOK TJOHTS VALLEY AND 
 
 STREAM. 
 
 The roses were budding, sweet daisies were iKtddiiifi:, 
 All nature was sweet as a ])risoner's dream ; 
 
 The lambs they were playinj;, the clover was swayint;. 
 
 While the moon in its sjtlendor li<»Iits valley and stream. 
 
 The woodlands were rinjiino- with the nightinj;alv"s singing, 
 The eagle on high would pour forth his scream; 
 
 In the midst of my ramble, I esi)ied a fair damsel. 
 
 While the moon in its splendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 "Why tarry here, lady, in woodland so shady? 
 
 The sun on the morn, will soon throw its gleam." 
 "My heart is near breaking, for my lover I'm waiting" — 
 
 While the moon in its splendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 She stepped close beside me, her beauty defied me, 
 
 I fought with my arm, though strange it may seem. 
 
 "None other can suit me." Said I, ''I dispute thee" — 
 
 While the moon in its splendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 163 
 
''My love was a writer, a soldier, a tighter; 
 
 He left with another, for beauty, I deem ; 
 Since then I have wandered, sorrowed and pondered" — 
 
 While the moon in its sjdendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 "Oh why did he leave me! Oh, why did he grieve me I 
 
 On my face since we parted, no smile has been seen ; 
 I will watch for him ever, till death will us sever" — 
 
 While the moon in its sjdendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 "\Vhy, maid are you weeping? Jn death he is sleeping. 
 And o'er him grow tlowers and tall grass so green ; 
 
 To his rest they long bore him, another weeps o'er him" — 
 While the moon in its splendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 "'Tis the truth are you telling? These words me are killing! 
 
 Farewell ! then to life, wliidi is only a dream ; 
 In the bed of yon river, I'll rest me forever" — 
 
 While the moon in its splendor lights valley and stream. 
 
 164 
 
BUILD IT WELL. 
 
 If yon would bnild a house, build it well — 
 First see the sills are sound. 
 Walls tirni upon the ground, 
 Koof, the best that can be found. 
 Build it well ! 
 
 If you would build a road, build it well — 
 See that its bed is gravel. 
 For strangers there will travel, 
 Your secrets thev'll unravel. 
 ' Build it well ! 
 
 If you would build a slii}>, build it well — 
 See the masts are not too high, 
 All winds that pass you by. 
 To sink you, they will try. 
 Build it well ! 
 
 If you would tight a battle, tight it well — 
 On the rock of right first stand. 
 Have victory ready planned. 
 Then on your victim land. 
 Lick him well ! 
 
 If you would preach the gospel, preach it well- 
 First see thy heart is right. 
 From God receive new sight, 
 Then cover not your light. 
 Preach it well I 
 
 165 
 
'There my love has .slept for years' 
 
 J(>(; 
 
AN INDIAN Glin/S LAMENT AT THE OKAVE OF HEK LOVETJ. 
 
 Ii(Mi(';itli lliis lice is a loiiclv j^iave 
 
 A\'lu're slee}is a wanidv yoiiiif*' and biavc. 
 
 F<ir years I've waiider«;>(I t(t tliis ])la('e 
 
 And smoothed the sand that liides liis I'aee; 
 
 'Tis here on bended knee eadi day 
 
 For my dear love I weej* and juay. 
 
 I know he lives, Ihongh bniied low. 
 And aims his spear at bnffalo, 
 lint I will wander to this monnd 
 Till we meet on the Imntin"' "ronnd ; 
 And oft the S])irit (Jreat I ])ray 
 That He may snmmon me away. 
 
 A (inel })ale-faee i>ave him rest; 
 
 He ]>lnnged his sword dee]» in his breast. 
 
 And rent his coat all decked with beads, 
 
 Tlien led away his nimble steeds. 
 
 He aimed so trne, his glistening:; blade 
 
 My love to sleep forever laid. 
 
 Tlie one I loA'ed sleeps here for years, 
 I bathed his grave with many tears ; 
 Thongli he doth monlder 'neatli this monnd. 
 He's happy on the hnnting ground, 
 With bnck-skin belt and wanipnm braid. 
 And beaded moccasins I made. 
 
 And <iniver of the softest skin ; 
 I shaped his tliut-heads, made them thin, 
 They gave the liiding panther pain, 
 For they ne'er left his bow in vain. 
 He slew the wolf, but spared the dove. 
 And this is whv he was mv love. 
 
 167 
 
How oft we rambled hand in hand, 
 Tracking the deer upon the sand, 
 Pausing to rest h\ yonder rill ; 
 Then hasten to the distant hill. 
 And there ascend its barren side, 
 Hoping to tind an otter's hide. 
 
 Oh, could I fly like birds above, 
 
 Had I wings of a turtle-dove. 
 
 O'er this bleak glen I'd soar tonight 
 
 I'd smooth his grave, then take my flight; 
 
 His loving face, could I but see, 
 
 I'd die content on ponder lea. 
 
 The hunting ground — I'd meet him there 
 With manly form and braided hair, 
 And hear his Avhisper: "Can this be. 
 Oh, love I whence come you back to me?" 
 None know my heart; — since here he fell 
 I long to die. Farewell 1 farewell I 
 
 168 
 
THE OLD CLOCK'S LAMENT, 
 
 Of all the sufferers on this earth. 
 
 No matter, great or small 
 I'll i)rove to YOU conclusively 
 
 My pangs outweigh them all. 
 
 Since my round face first saw the light, 
 Some ninet3^ years have lied ; 
 
 And ever since my heart throbs on— 
 Oreat wonder I'm not dead. 
 
 For all this great extent of time 
 
 I never changed my place; 
 Though many thousands on me gaze 
 None washed my hands <^»r face. 
 
 They placed a gong upon my heart, 
 And ticks around me creep; 
 
 At every hour I must call, 
 I ne'er find time to sleeji. 
 
 They wind me with a horrid key 
 
 Until 1 screech from pain ; 
 And though I beg to be relieved, 
 
 My pleadings all are vain. 
 
 169 
 
'I said, 'fools say there is no God' 
 
 NEW YEAR IN MY SOUTHERN HOME. 
 
 The moon arose and spread its wingfs 
 
 O'er captives and the free, 
 On the first of Jannarv 
 
 Eighteen and ninetv-three. 
 A few clouds scattered here and there. 
 
 Dotted the clear blue skv. 
 Shattering moonbeams o'er the vale 
 
 As winds wonld hurl them by. 
 The barren limbs of ash and elm. 
 
 And other forest trees. 
 All bowed their lofty heads beneath 
 
 The pleasant winter breeze. 
 
 I/O 
 
No frost liJid ihillod their tender bark. 
 
 No snow njton the ground. 
 As I have often seen at lionie 
 
 When New Year's eve came round. 
 But spots of green grass here and there — 
 
 The meadow lark would sing. 
 As he in northern climates does 
 
 When he announces spring. 
 And the little brooklets gaily leap 
 
 O'er pebbles, blythe and gay, 
 While in its clear and crystal depths 
 
 The little minnows play. 
 I thought of nature's beauteous charm 
 
 Beaming from everywhere. 
 As I strolled along the woodland jtath, 
 
 Fanned by the evening air. 
 From among the tangled branches, green. 
 
 Of ivy, growing near, 
 FleAv the frightened turkey hen. 
 
 And, lo I the fleeing deer. 
 Far in the distant forest wild, 
 
 I hear the baying hound. 
 AncJ all the hills, it seemed to me, 
 
 Still echo back the sound. 
 Still I wandered aimlessly, 
 
 Shaded by many trees. 
 And watched the little branches sway. 
 
 Kissed by the evening breeze. 
 I walked beside a little spring, 
 
 I crossed a mossy ridge; 
 I watched the acorns as they fell 
 
 Near by upon the bridge. 
 I said : "Fools say there is no God I"' 
 
 I grasped the tender bowers. 
 And breathed the sweet and fragrant air 
 
 In those quiet midnight hours. 
 I turned me back and wandered home. 
 
 And hastened to my room. 
 And sat there by a window pane. 
 
 And gazed upon the moon. 
 The g^iard-house clock, upon the hill. 
 
 Within the old stone tower. 
 With long and measured strokes tolled out 
 
 The dying midnight hour. 
 I lay me on a warrior's cot. 
 
 Midst comrades brave and true; 
 I closed my eyes to the trumpet's blast — 
 
 Farewell I to Ninetv-two. 
 
 171 
 

 
 
 
 
 Ill' ma 
 
 1 
 
 "I've sheltered thee from storms." 
 
 THE PECAN AND THE OAK. 
 
 "How old art thou?" the Pecan cries, 
 
 "Oh, that you would resign I 
 Of late your aged and rougli bark roots 
 
 Are clinging fast to mine. 
 
 'You proudly stand, though hard and old, 
 When storms are fierce and wild; 
 Your old rough bark compares with mine 
 As a workman with a child. 
 
 172 
 
"Your leaves are hard as Nero's heart, 
 
 Their ribs are first to see; 
 Midst breezes they ponr forth their scorn 
 
 By daiuino over me. 
 
 "The raccoon hides in your old l)ou<;lis, 
 
 Also the panther purs; 
 Your fruit is food for filthy swine, 
 
 Thoujiii covered o'er with burrs. 
 
 "Now don't you feel ashamed, Old Oak, 
 
 Of living? Tell me true; 
 My failing voice is gr()vving weak; 
 
 I'll listen now to you.'' 
 
 THP: oak REPLIES: 
 
 "Long have I graced this remote field. 
 
 And proud Pecan, am I 
 To know my branches old can sway 
 
 So [)roudly in the sky. 
 
 "Men of yore, now dead and gone, 
 
 C)ft knew not where to go; 
 At length they marked me as a guide, 
 
 Ere you commenced to grow. 
 
 "As a father shields his loving child, 
 I've sheltered you from storms ; 
 
 My trunk would sway to catch the frost, 
 While o'er you held my arms. 
 
 "When you. Pecan, were but a sprig. 
 The hunters round me knelt; 
 
 My boughs threw shade around you then 
 And all quite happy felt. 
 
 "A hundred years have passed and gtme. 
 The storms, the sun, and mo(m, 
 
 Decayed my broken heart above — 
 It hides the shy raccoon. 
 
 "Beneath my boughs a nuiiden sleeps, 
 
 Felled by a lover's blow ; 
 'Twas I tliat marked her resting place. 
 
 Two hundred years ago. 
 
 173 
 
''Her bones have slowlv turned to dust. 
 
 Save one that here I lull. 
 Wound with roots deprived from earth, 
 
 ]S^ow rests this maiden's skull. 
 
 "I've seen the red man running wild, 
 
 With quiver on his back; 
 And where your trunk is tirmest now, 
 
 He found the otter's track. 
 
 "My fruit cannot compare with thine, 
 But thee I've watched since birth; 
 
 I've filled the path where many heels 
 Would crush thee in the earth. 
 
 ''I'll pardon thee, for thou are young, 
 But speak more kind to me; 
 
 I'll shield thee ever from the storm ; 
 Come now, speak thou to me." 
 
 The Pecan : 
 "Oh, Father Oak, forgive thy child! 
 
 Thou art a glorious tree! 
 I'll always boast, if spared, to tell 
 
 How you protected me. 
 
 " 'Tis true, the maids will seek my fruit. 
 
 And always call it best, 
 But where your branches shade the soil, 
 
 They pause for sweetest rest. 
 
 "I've seen the hunter, in my time, 
 Bring down the bleeding goose. 
 
 And take a bead from your old bark 
 To fire on the grazing moose. 
 
 "We try to reach, but 'tis in vain — 
 Long may thy branches sway ! 
 
 When severed by the woodman's axe, 
 May 3'OU fall and quick decay.'' 
 
 .74 
 
TO MY ABSENT WIFE. 
 
 My wife went away the other night, 
 
 She heard from home and took her tiight ; 
 It's scarce a week since she is gone, 
 I wish she'd hurry back anon. 
 
 And were I near a telephone 
 
 I'd say: >'I'm lonely! Please come home!" 
 My home tonight looks like a place 
 Which to all men would bring disgrace; 
 
 Each nook and corner I will scan 
 
 And mention all as best I can: 
 
 175 
 
The sitting room is filled with sand, 
 My clothes are on the parlor stand ; 
 
 Tidies are falling from the chairs, 
 
 And spiders dropping down in pairs ; 
 My cot is searched by every breeze. 
 My chickens come in when they i)lease. 
 
 Tramps call on me each day in scores. 
 
 The pig runs in through open doors ; 
 Mosquitoes hum around my head, 
 And big green Hies perch on the bread. 
 
 The mirror's hanging upside down, 
 
 The walls have changed from white to brown. 
 At starving-point is my poor cur, 
 For he, too, did depend on her. 
 
 The clock is silent on the shelf — 
 
 You'd know I made the bed myself; 
 
 Cold is the hearth and dim the light. 
 Oft do I miss my bath at night. 
 
 My neighbors all think I'm a fake. 
 
 For of their victuals I partake; 
 
 Nothing to eat can I i)repare — 
 That's why 1 must beg of their fare. 
 
 The bird has ceased his merry song. 
 
 For he, too, knows that something's wrong; 
 
 His wings have dropped, his head hangs low 
 Maybe he's hungry — I don't know. 
 
 I sleep each night in a bed unmade, 
 
 I burn a light for I'm afraid. 
 
 She's small of size and weak of frame, 
 
 To treat her ill would be a shame. 
 
 p]ach harsh word bringeth forth a tear. 
 
 To vex her, that is all I fear. 
 
 The meals she gets are all well d<tne, 
 Methinks they'd suit most anyone. 
 
 I have but one word more to say : 
 
 A bachelor I could never stav! 
 
 176 
 
CHKISTMAS M( )KX ING. 
 
 What: T tell yon a stoiy? 
 
 My rhild, what will it be? 
 Sidiiethiiig aliout the heavens, 
 
 Or about the land and sea? 
 
 Crispy morning, well, my jjet, 
 <iood many years aj»(), 
 A babe lay in a manj^er, 
 
 >Vhen all was <'lad in snow. 
 
 We, having' no Kedeemer, 
 The Father one had sent 
 That we might live forever 
 If we bnt would re])ent. 
 
 riiiist came to save the sinner — 
 The false, the i)roud, untrue — 
 
 We'd have needed no redeemer 
 If all men were like you. 
 
 Since then, for such a blessing 
 As (m that cold night came, 
 
 A saint has brought grand presents 
 And "Santy" is his name. 
 
 lint lie's a queer old fellow — 
 Don't stop at every door; 
 
 He seems to liave a hatred 
 For children that are ]ioor. 
 
 ^Vhen I, like you, a baby. 
 
 In him 1 did believe. 
 On the knob I hung my stockings 
 
 (^n every Christmas eve. 
 
 Fd see grand presents given. 
 From arm and Christmas-tree, 
 
 But many times an apple 
 Was all he left for me. 
 
 Ma said we had no money, 
 And "Santa" he was mad; 
 1 thought it a strange notion 
 
 That queer old "Santy" had. 
 
 177 
 
'What will that story be?" 
 
 178 
 
Wlien Cliri.stnias came next season, 
 I'd see some grand display; 
 
 I'd ask about my presents — 
 His deer just ran away. 
 
 Tonight old ''Santy's" coming— 
 Not as in days of yore — 
 
 Go find your longest stockings 
 And hang them on the door; 
 
 And then lie very quiet, 
 If you should hear a noise. 
 
 It's "Santy Claus" a-coming 
 With candy and with toys. 
 
 He'll run your stockings over. 
 He'll leave new shoes and gown ; 
 
 He'll then go out the chimney — 
 The way that he came down. 
 
 Now go to sleep, my baby. 
 For you need nothing fear; 
 
 I only hope that "Santy" 
 May call on vou each vear. 
 
 179 
 
AT DEATHS BOOK. 
 
 When the world grows dark around me, 
 And my friends they all surround me, 
 
 And my ears are deaf to words that they may say; 
 When near deatli's door I'm sleeping- 
 Then perhaps few will be weeping — 
 
 Oh, that will be the day 1 soar away! 
 
 When I hear the distant chiming. 
 
 When my brain has ceased its rhyming, 
 And my heart it beats unsteady all the way; 
 
 When my vision shall deceive me, 
 
 And my other senses leave me — - 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away I 
 
 When no earthly toil shall grieve me. 
 
 When from cares death shall relieve me. 
 And my memory shall completely pass away; 
 
 When my limbs cease to obey me 
 
 And no longer will convey me — 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away I 
 
 AMien at poverty I am laughing. 
 
 And at cripples I am chaffing. 
 When 1 scoff' at persons who are old and gray ; 
 
 When I grow so cold and greedy 
 
 That I shall forget the needy — 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away! 
 
 When the good old hand that reared me, 
 And the voice that often cheered me. 
 
 Are banished from my memory for the day; 
 When friends I ceased to number, 
 And behold the ones that slumber — 
 
 •Oh, tiiat will be the day I soar away! 
 
 180 
 
When 1 shall foi-oet Pap's anvil. 
 
 His old shop and the eandle. 
 The bellows which I worked by niolit and day; 
 
 The fire so brightly glowing. 
 
 That the bellows same were blowing — 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away! 
 
 When of her I'm no more thinking 
 Who npbraided me for drinking. 
 
 Who returned my ring and bade me slay away 
 \Mien 1 shall forget those honi's 
 Spent with her in gathering flowers— 
 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away! 
 
 When I'm no longer weeping 
 For another wlw) is sleeping 
 
 Near R«shville, Indiana, namely J- 
 When I blot her visage clever, 
 From my memory forever — 
 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away! 
 
 When my tongue is still forever. 
 And my heart will not throb ever, 
 
 When I behold the home for which I pray; 
 When my sorrow here is ended. 
 And my soul to God ascended — 
 
 Oh, that will be the day I soar away! 
 
 181 
 
'They were somebody's darlings" 
 
 1H2 
 
TWO LITTLE (;i{A\'ES. 
 
 My chase was siicce.ssfiil, the rubber is caught, 
 Whom I have so long and wearily sought : 
 Whither he led me was weary and long. 
 But he to the cell in the wagon has gone. 
 
 Through woodlands and valleys, so strange was the way, 
 That two little graves confront me today; 
 They're somebody's darlings, 'tis plain to be seen. 
 There are roses in bloom, and grass fresh and green. 
 
 Somebody wept, yea, somebody cried, 
 Somebody weeps, now they sleep side by side; 
 Somebody i)rays to our Father divine, 
 Oh, what if one grave held that baby of mine ! 
 
 Somebody knows, Who doeth all well, — 
 
 Why they were taken, no mortal can tell; 
 
 But God in his wisdom take spirits above. 
 
 He makes no distinction for those whom we love. 
 
 183 
 
'There stands my father's shop' 
 
 184 
 
FATH!:irS (»1J) t^liOP. 
 
 I have tieasiues on this earth, 
 
 But there is one dear spot 
 That liveth in this heart of mine. 
 
 There stands my Father's shop; 
 *Jude's pine it s\vinj>eth to and fro, 
 The same as twenty years aj><). 
 
 The river glides on to the sea; 
 
 My fatlier made tlie eliain 
 Tliat reached its hand to hohl my boat. 
 
 Then to tlie hridj^e again ; 
 The moss there on the shore dotii grow. 
 The same as twenty years ago. 
 
 The door swings on one rnsty hinge. 
 
 The chimney doth in rnin lie, 
 The room that held the Haming forge 
 
 Hath many an opening to the sky; 
 The bellows, that the tires did blow. 
 Are gone since twenty years ago. 
 
 When I was here a blacksmitlTs chil<]. 
 
 Had parents and a home. 
 My thoughts would soar to countries wild, 
 
 And there I said I'd roam ; 
 Ere long I ventured far to go. 
 And left them twenty years ago. 
 
 Now I've returned, but where is he 
 
 Who knew a careworn breast"? 
 O'er yonder in the bleak churchyard 
 
 They laid him down to rest; 
 Sleej) on, in thy cold bed below, 
 I'll find thee when from earth I go. 
 
 The Jude mentioned in this poem is one Judas Herrington. who lived neighbor 
 to the Hair family and who was a friend to the poet when a child, when a youth 
 and when a man. In his yard grew a mammoth pine tree, 'neath which young Dell 
 whiled away many of his childhood hours. 
 
 185 
 
THE CALL THAT BROKE MY HEAKT. 
 
 Tve listened long' to the silent call, 
 
 With friends did bravely part ; 
 I bid adieu to them each and all — • 
 
 There's one that broke my heart. 
 
 When upon her light the curtains fell, 
 
 She smiled when at death's door; 
 Those Aveary lids, she to me did tell. 
 
 Now closed to ope no more. 
 
 Soon I gazed upon the smiling dead; 
 
 My mother! can it be 
 Thy spirit to the beyond has fled, 
 
 That watched and mourned for me? 
 
 There were men to her of me spoke ill. 
 
 And neighbors to her came 
 With my faults — her very soul would thrill — 
 
 But she loved me just the same. 
 
 When the setting sun takes light from earth, 
 
 She's with me then it seems; 
 When from my beat I seek my berth, 
 
 I see her in my dreams. 
 
 That Mother, to me. Avas like the sun. 
 
 Her patience ne\'er fled ; 
 Though men found fault, she'd say. "^^^']l done'." 
 
 And noAV that she is dead. 
 
 Through space and mist and many tears. 
 
 That ■Mother I can see. 
 Praising Him, from heavenly si)heres. 
 
 Through all eternitv. 
 
 18ti 
 
THE W001>LANI)>i Ai^PEAL. 
 
 Why dwell in the city? when I welcome thee 
 
 To nature's warm bosom, where water runs free; 
 
 \\'here every sprig bows to welcome the breeze, 
 
 An<l the wild bird doth warble his note from the trees. 
 
 A\'hy dwell in the city? Axiieie men struggle for style, 
 Here the thorn and the i-ose gives smile for a smilc»; 
 Here nature clothes all, no robbers to fear. 
 And all sing together — no jealousy here. 
 
 >Vhy dwell in the cily? when here overjoyed 
 
 Whistles the quail ; where axe unemployed 
 
 Hews nothing doAvn, disturbs not her nest. 
 
 And the squirrel seems to smile, so peaceful his rest. 
 
 Why dwell in the city? while here, 'neath your feet, 
 You trample on daisies and daffodils sweet ; 
 The white lilies bow to all as they pass. 
 No sign ever reads — "Keej) otf from the gi-ass." 
 
 Why dwell in the city? when here you can stroll, 
 And gather wild flowers, and sit on yon knoll ; 
 Converse with the lady so long you have sought. 
 Here tales are ne'er carried, borrowed or bought. 
 
 Why dwell in the city? when here the bat Hies, 
 The whippoorwill sends his notes to the skies; 
 The happy birds nest and music is sung. 
 The screech-owl in darkness is feeding hei- young. 
 
 Why dwell in the city? when here, undetiled. 
 Birds in their purity, sing for your child ; 
 By their wings and their songs the atmosphere stirred, 
 Here many sweet notes are warbled unheard. 
 
 Why dwell in the city? when here the wild bees 
 Give to the wanderer sweets from the trees ; 
 For many in bondage, who once lived with thee, 
 Have followed their queen to a dwelling with me. 
 
 Why dwell in the city? where nmny have sinned. 
 Here fragrance and purity ride on each wind ; 
 Here lust is unknown, for God is yet king. 
 Come, ye proud dwellers, where all kindred sing. 
 
 187 
 
"The many birds they cheer me' 
 
 188 
 
MAY 
 
 (Jet thou behind me winter. 
 
 Thy days ot reign are o'er; 
 I'll bid the streams once more <;;(► free, 
 
 IMant rushes on the shore. 
 
 My forests were in beauty. 
 
 You appeared upon the scene, 
 And there unfurled your snow and iee, 
 
 \Yhere I first s})read the green. 
 
 ^Vith frost you killed my tiowers, 
 You robbed the earth of cheer: 
 
 You sent the birds to sunny climes. 
 But now they reappear. 
 
 Oft youVe caused men to suffer. 
 
 Then heeded not their jdea ; 
 You've sent the winds across the earth. 
 
 Wrought havoc on the sea. 
 
 Where'er you reign, there deaith and gloom 
 Doth still the woodland's ring; 
 
 Get thou behind me. winter. 
 For I once more am king I 
 
 189 
 
'Get thco behind me, Winter, for I once more am king" 
 
 390 
 
JUNE. 
 
 The earth is breathing neai- me, 
 And many birds they cheer me; 
 Nothing seems to fear me, 
 
 All come near. 
 The rose bushes are blushing. 
 Sweet odors from them gushing; 
 The little brook is rushing 
 
 Towards the mere. 
 
 Dame nature is reposing. 
 The tree toad he is dozing; 
 Julv threatens a foreclosing. 
 
 ' That is all. 
 Clouds on high are dancing, 
 Retreating and advancing; 
 The sun is gaily glancing 
 Through trees tall. 
 
 The mimic thrush is singing. 
 The hang bird he is swinging; 
 A dinner bell is ringing. 
 
 It is noon. 
 Men rest in shady bowers 
 And scent the perfumed flowers. 
 Expecting sudden showers — 
 
 This is June, 
 
 191 
 
THE DESTROYED WORLD. 
 
 We hasten, like a mighty sea, 
 
 liefoie the world to make our plea ; 
 
 Oh I why were we all doomed to die 
 
 Ere we drew breath or gave a sigh? 
 
 Our maker intended we should live. 
 
 And to our forms he life did give. 
 
 It was man's sin that sealed our doom. 
 
 And caused our death within the womb. 
 
 Heartless parents, on you we tall : 
 
 Was there not plenty here for all? 
 
 The lips are stilled that Avould have sung, 
 
 Our voice in woodlands would have rung. 
 
 We would have cheered you in old age. 
 
 And rendered you all due homage; 
 
 We'd light the path that's darkness now. 
 
 And smooth the locks on mother's brow. 
 
 You we would praise, who gave us life, 
 
 With music banish clouds of strife ; 
 
 ^A'e'd build great ships upon the mains. 
 
 We'd build great cities on the plains. 
 
 We'd anchor ships upon the mains. 
 
 Statesmen, too, we would send there, 
 
 And wise men to the president's chair; 
 
 We'd fight in wars the same as ye. 
 
 And pray to God on bended knee. 
 
 We'd share your losses and your gains. 
 
 We'd share your joys and your pains ; 
 
 We'd share your sickness and your health, 
 
 We'd share your poverty and wealth. 
 
 By your example we'd entice 
 
 And win men back from shame and vice; 
 
 We would have loved, been groom and bride 
 
 If in the womb we had not died. 
 
 There is a blot that will remain 
 
 T'pon your souls, a jet black stain. 
 
 Which you can never wash away, 
 
 Nor yet conceal, do what you may. 
 
 For justice once must be unfurled ! 
 
 Thus speak we, the destroyed world. 
 
 192 
 
WHY I PRAY. 
 
 I was born on a hill 
 
 Near a translucent rill, 
 
 One bleak, cold November day ; 
 
 The snow flakes fell fast, 
 
 And fierce was the blast — 
 
 That I live, 'tis no wonder to me. 
 
 For the walls they were cold. 
 
 And covered with mold, 
 
 Through the cracks one plainly could see; 
 
 Midst the elements roar, 
 
 Ice formed on the floor — 
 
 That I live, 'tis a wonder to me. 
 
 When I think of me there, 
 
 And my dear mother's pray'r, 
 
 Asking God in his mercy to see 
 
 A babe in the fold. 
 
 Though the hearth long was cold — 
 
 That I live, 'tis a wonder to me. 
 
 And now that she's gone, 
 To her rest sweet and lon<?. 
 Where continual sunshine is free, — 
 The last words she said, 
 '"Meet me there, I'm not dead, 
 I'll onlv be waiting for thee." 
 
 193 
 
"Soon the stars will appear, their story to tell" 
 
 AFTER THE STORM. 
 
 Tlie storm lias subsided, the breakers are fled. 
 The Moon in its s^tlendor shines bright overhead; 
 Soon the stars will appear, their storv to tell, 
 They were lost in mist, when the black cnrtain fell. 
 
 The light in von l)eacon again throws its ray, 
 It was banished from sight by foam and the spray ; 
 One boat pnts to sea, but the ship with the sail 
 Was driven to shore by the strength of the gale. 
 
 The rocks have ceased drii»])ing, the bell swings no more. 
 That sounded of warning as ships neared the shore; 
 Now all is serene as the breakers are done. 
 There is promise at morn of a glorious sun. 
 
 194 
 
'O Gold, foi- thoe do I live' 
 
 195 
 
THE hoardp:k of gold. 
 
 A miser, in hiding, gloating over his gold, 
 
 Replaced it again in its crevice of mold; 
 
 Said he — ^'You're my God, the consoler of mind; 
 
 I now will away more treasnres to find." — ■ 
 
 In the meantime a robber, secreted quite near, 
 
 Heard him proclaim, "I've twelve thousand here." 
 
 He off to his den, the tale to unfold 
 
 Of the miser he'd seen and the crevice of gold. 
 
 His tempted companions, at close of the day. 
 Girded their steeds and sped fast away. 
 The crevice of gold but one had yet learned. 
 While meantime the miser with more had returned; 
 The crevice was opened, by a light pale and dim. 
 So little he thought of the eyes upon him. 
 Said he — ''O, gold, for thee do I live! 
 Tho hunger oft reigns, none will I give. 
 
 ''Offsprings I've none, ne'er coui-ted a bride. 
 Friends are unknown, you alone are my pride; 
 I'll kiss thee good night, sure none will molest, 
 I again will conceal thee, then off to my nest." 
 No sooner laid he his head on the hay. 
 With his treasure the robbers were speeding away. 
 Said he on the morn, "For wealth I will start, 
 Before going I'll view the pride of my heart.'' 
 
 He arose from his cot the cleft to explore. 
 
 But found it not as he left it before; 
 
 He discovered his treasures as on wings had fled. 
 
 He shrieked in despair, fell lifeless and dead. 
 
 Such was the fate of this hoarder of gold. 
 
 Left not a friend and eternal life sold; 
 
 His plannings, his sufferings, at last him had killed, 
 
 He died unprepared, and a pauper's grave filled. 
 
 196 
 
"The four seasons." 
 
 19'3 
 
THE SONG OF THE Si: A SONS. 
 
 Spring : 
 I melt the cold 8now, I send forth the flower, 
 I loosen the streams with many a shower; 
 Cold Winter is gone, and now I'm in ]»(»wer. 
 The birds sweetly sing in every bower. 
 
 The lambs skip and play; each bud <»n its stem 
 Is rapidly swelling to blossom again; 
 The qnadrn])ed hides no more in his den, 
 And a velvet-like carpet, covers the glen. 
 
 The tishes rejoice, the eaglets cry. 
 The pelican builds his nest upon high ; 
 Nature is beauty, and none wish to die, — 
 Now I will listen to summer's reply. 
 
 Summer 
 
 By my warm sho\\'ers, and sun's bi-ightest ray, 
 I send forth the lily from the darkest of clay: 
 The golden grain with the breezes shall sway, 
 The barefooted urchins so merrily ]»lay. 
 
 At the rising of sun the dairy uiaids toil. 
 The farmer is earnestly tilling the soil ; 
 The serpent in peace rests in his coil. 
 The air is fragrant with sweet ])i'nny royal. 
 
 In the pleasant forest the wild flowers bloom. 
 The honey bees labor their sweets to consume; 
 All seems cheerful, for banished is glooui. 
 The bachelor is hai>py as a bride and grooui. 
 
 198 
 
Autmiin : 
 
 I ripen the fruit, both Yelh)W and red, 
 
 I send forth the leaves to blanket the dead; 
 
 I spray them with dew, to deaden the tread 
 
 Of the hnnter, who wanders with litle and b'ad. 
 
 I till every cellar, no famine returns; 
 In the lowliest cottage, a bright tire burns, 
 Pre]iaring- for winter, with many concerns — 
 While the bird on wing, for a season adjourns. 
 
 ]\Iy winds bring the harvest, no moments to sjiai-e: 
 ]S'ow and then a tiake is seen on the air; 
 When the harvest is o'er. Fll banish all care, 
 And each in his dwelling nuiy enjoy a share. 
 
 Winter: 
 
 Ah I 1 have returned I Til con(|uer at last! 
 I'll send for the snow, with a cold stinging blast; 
 The gnirgling streams I'll bind and hold fast, — 
 Spring and summer are gone with the past. 
 
 Benmin in your cots while I sweep o'er the land. 
 And out in the air don't venture to stand; 
 I soar like the condor, outstretch my cold hand — 
 The summer is gcme, and I'm in command! 
 
 I'm dreaded by all — yea. loved by none — 
 The young and the old, me — winter, they shun ; 
 I care not for friends, for alone I begun, 
 I'll blockade their paths, for soon I'll be done. 
 
 199 
 
'The Lily and the Stork." 
 
 200 
 
THE LILY AKD THE STORK. 
 
 The Stork: 
 
 So bleak is the world, so lonely my home. 
 Wherever I wander my kindred are flown ; 
 I soar o'er the tree-tops, I scan yonder crest 
 Which touches the heavens in yon crimson west. 
 I slept with the toad, I fished in the stream. 
 And they're not so friendly to me, it doth seem ; 
 So, farewell, my loved haunts, — I now take my flight! 
 Farewell, toads and fishes and lilies — Good Night! 
 
 The Lily: 
 
 Why fleest thou hence? This spot is quite fair: 
 Go perch in yon tree that sways in the air. 
 And list to the warble of birds near thy nest. 
 While the sun slowly sinks to his coveted rest. 
 I and the roses, you see growing here. 
 The fishes and toads, will try thee to cheer. 
 We share the same night, we share the same day,— 
 There are others more lonely — I beg of thee, stay! 
 
 201 
 
'Abandon thy castlo and go, dear, with me" 
 
 THE LOVER'S RETURN. 
 
 My boat is at anchor, I came for thee, darling,-. 
 Long have I braved the blue billows' roar; 
 
 Abandon thy castle, bid adieu to old Ireland, 
 I'll take thee with me to Scotland's fair shore. 
 
 My bark, it is strong, and will leap o'er the billows, 
 Her sails fan the air, like the wings of a dove; 
 
 'Tis long since we met, and long since we parted, 
 Thy castle is old, bid adieu to it, love. 
 
 202 
 
Cromwell bombarded the dome of thy castle, 
 Left Ireland's soil a murderous scene; 
 
 Thou art today held a slave to old England, 
 Bid adieu then, forever, the Isle of the (ireen. 
 
 Keply: 
 
 I cannot go with thee, for mother is dying, 
 Cold are her hands, and clammy her brow ; 
 
 And yet I assure thee, by everything sacred, 
 I'd love to go with you, but cannot go now. 
 
 My sister is there, consoling the dying, 
 And many a song today has been sung; 
 
 The fear of death has almost departed. 
 The gates of heaven to her will be swung. 
 
 Thou must return thee alone to old Siotlaud- 
 But 1 shall hope to see thee some day 
 
 Steering thy bark again to this dwelling, 
 Then o'er the wild waves, we'll sail far awav! 
 
 Answer : 
 
 Farewell then my dear this may be forever 
 I now will return to my own native sod ; 
 
 If my boat should sink, remember I love you. 
 My corpse rests in ocean, my soul with its God. 
 
 Give niy love to your friends in the castle 
 And speak of the heavenly home far away ; 
 
 Tell her of the crown they wear up in glory. 
 And the golden harps which the angels play. 
 
 Speak of that light that shineth forever. 
 
 In the city of gold, where the angels tiy ; 
 No sickness or death ever enters that dwelling — 
 
 She will welcome the hour — my darling, good-bje! 
 
 203 
 
'I've seen men love, I've seen them part" 
 
 204 
 
THE FOREST KING'S PITIFUL TALE. 
 
 Long have I graced this remote field, 
 I've seen ripe grain to sickles yield; 
 I've seen men love, I've seen them part, 
 And women die of broken heart. 
 For I was numbered with forest kings, 
 My heart was guarded with many rings; 
 Strangers paused while passing by, 
 Little thought they, much less thought 1, 
 That one I guarded from heaven's alarms 
 Would wound my trunk, and wilt my arms. 
 I've shielded him when he m joy 
 Did sport around me when a boy. 
 Hand o'er hand he scaled my trunk 
 In hopes to find a piece of punk; 
 From bough to bough he leaped with glee- 
 But, when a man, he murdered me . 
 I fear not death,—' tis sweet to die,— 
 Did not my branches softly cry: 
 "'Twas better that a stranger came 
 Mv bodv thus to wound and maim! 
 His stroke I would gladly endure,^ 
 
 Without complaint, without demure 
 
 Bevond the poet mutters low, 
 " 'Tis the fate of all that live,— to go. 
 I see no tear from his big heart. 
 For he once loved, death did them part- 
 But what care I, I'm almost gone. 
 My leaves are helpless, mute my song. 
 Mv branches droop and tremble so, 
 I 'pav the debt the world doth owe; 
 But one word more, before I'm g(me. 
 Oh! listen, world, it won't be long: 
 Discard vour love, and all is fled! 
 So, farewell! world, for I am dead. 
 
 2or 
 
'Could they patoli ine up, Fd sail again" 
 
 206 
 
THE TALE OF A RROKEX SHIP. 
 
 Well, here I am at rest at last— 
 Mv spar is gone, likewise my mast; 
 My keel is bent, my sails are lost 
 (In snrjijinfi; billows, temjjest tossed). 
 1 sailed the seas long years ago 
 (Progress then was somewhat slowK 
 I've seen men ill and women die, 
 And the fount of water almost dry. 
 T've seen starvation step on board — 
 This pleased the shark, likewise the sword. 
 How oft I've thought I'll go to wreck. 
 When breakers sought my crew on deck. 
 Though ice would form from sheets of rain, 
 I'd list to i)rayers, then leap again; 
 For I knew that Mothers on every shore 
 Ask (Jod T bear their kindred o'er. 
 Though breakers roared and torrents fell 
 I'd ride them down in the jaws of hell; 
 They swept me from the road I knew 
 Rocks would try to pierce me through. 
 Breakers tossed me to and fro. 
 Still on, and ever on, I go; 
 Many a path have I traversed. 
 Where God reigned not, and Satan cursed. 
 Men speak of the glories of the sea- 
 How few that know her treachery- 
 Go search the seas and then you'll Hnd 
 Few true as I to all mankind. 
 I've leaped o'er rocks, I've run agroun'. 
 But yet have my first man to drown — 
 When I see the boats glide o'er the main, 
 Gould they patch me up, I*d sail again. 
 I'd seek the crew that sailed with me. 
 We knew each other, and could agree; 
 But I'm talking foolish, to say the best, 
 For they, like I, are laid to rest. 
 Some sleep in brine, and some on land, 
 There'd not be one to take command; 
 I've lived the perils of life to tell 
 So, cruel sea and ye dead, farewell ! 
 
 207 
 
'I pour out my lava at close of the day'' 
 
 MOUNT PELEE AS DESCRIBED BY A SHEPHERD. 
 
 The giant Mount Pelee in Martinique belches 
 Black smoke and hot ashes, as never before 
 
 Like armies in action, her craters are roaring 
 
 And down her broad sides warm lava doth pour. 
 
 It rises and bubbles, like a great swelling river. 
 Then seemingly ponies in a bottomless well 
 
 Like the falls of Niagara, it roars amid thunder 
 No eye has witnessed this great pit of hell. 
 
 208 
 
Now she is quiet, like the lion that sleepeth. 
 
 Deep down in her bowels is heaping corruption 
 Wild as the tiger, that hides until evening 
 
 Is only preparing for another eruption. 
 
 A rumbling is heard, like the wheels of a chariot 
 As were its steeds frightened on China's great wall. 
 
 Or the halo cut loose by God from the heavens 
 To land on old Babylon's tower so tall. 
 
 Now an outburst is heard, that jars the whole island. 
 Like numberless shells that together take flight 
 
 As were meteors ascending from earth unto heaven, 
 The island of darkness is now turned to light. 
 
 The earth seems aglow, like the feasts of Belshazzar. 
 
 Though once black as crajje. is now white as wool. 
 The craters will shriek, like a whale that is wounded 
 
 Or swam too far, in Newfoundland's pool. 
 
 She again is quiet, like a lamb that is sleeping. 
 Then awakes like a lion, aroused by its prey, 
 
 And roars like the voice of God amid waters 
 And pours out her lava at closing of day. 
 
 The shepherd is dying, who told me this story. 
 His smiles as of yore I see them today 
 
 I picture him now, as he stood when describing 
 The two great eruptions of volcano "Pelee." 
 
 209 
 
"I still held to hor tail" 
 
 210 
 
'FATHER'^ TWENTY." 
 
 ril tell you all a story 
 If you have time enough. 
 
 Concerning leather's twenty 
 When all was in the rough. 
 
 This farm was Father's hobby, 
 For nature saved expense, 
 
 A river circling round it 
 Left no room for a fence. 
 
 A mansion graced its center 
 Whose roof in twain was cleft 
 
 High water washed the brick work 
 Till naught but holes were left. 
 
 The reader may remember 
 If not, I'll tell him that 
 
 The greatest cleft except the roof 
 Was stuffed Avith mv old hat. 
 
 I'm a big Shiawasse farmer. 
 My Father once related. 
 
 And mortgaged for a cow 
 To a man intoxicated. 
 
 You shall be the cow-boy, Dell, 
 You're large around the breast. 
 
 And be like those jolly fellows. 
 Now thriving in the west. 
 
 I'll 
 
I longed for such experience, 
 And merrily did I laugh 
 
 While pulling on my father's boots, 
 ^Numbering twenty and a half. 
 
 That night the clouds sped o'er me. 
 And I had lost my trail, 
 
 Then came a flash of lightning, 
 I grasped the old cow's tail. 
 
 O'er logs, through brush and thistles, too, 
 
 The old cow cut a dash, 
 While I hung on behind her, 
 
 Till halted by a flash. 
 
 She leaped into the river, 
 I, too, plunged in the tide, 
 
 I felt ray tail holt slipping 
 There was barbed wire on the side. 
 
 The old cow left me swinging 
 I found my home at dawn. 
 
 My father stood aghast to find 
 His boots and trousers gone. 
 
 But when his boots came down a raft. 
 He enraged made rae elope. 
 
 And that old cow that raade our herd, 
 Has long been dead, I hope. 
 
 212 
 
"A QUARREL WITH THE MOON." 
 
 Oft in the night I ramble, moon, 
 
 With the lady I love best 
 While you, curved like my powder horn, 
 
 Hang lightless in the we.st. 
 
 Men, women, children old and young, 
 
 And beggars jjass thee by 
 And from your dome you give a light 
 
 To men far worse than I. 
 
 I ask of thee. What have I done? 
 
 Thou great and silvery ball, 
 God crowned and made thee king of night, 
 
 And said, Give light to all. 
 
 I say once more, Oh partial moon, 
 
 In darkness we pass by, 
 While you behind some tiny cloud 
 
 Hang lightless in the sky. 
 
 The Moon: 
 I'll tell you, sir, why I abscond 
 
 Within this secret place. 
 Were I to shine, the world would sneer 
 
 At your best lady's face. 
 
 Her eyes are crossed, here nose is pugged, 
 
 False teeth she wears above. 
 And you admit, oh, simple man. 
 
 That she's the one you love! 
 
 Her feet are like two schooners. 
 She's freckled — yea and pale; 
 
 No wonder that on Christmas day 
 You bought for her a veil ! 
 
 Yes, one word more I'll tell thee, sir. 
 
 Before you go away; 
 You'll dream tonight you are a fool 
 
 Have vou aught else to say? 
 
 213 
 
THERE IS MY HEART TONKJHT. 
 
 Where the flat roek waters gurgle, 
 
 Where the yellow paw-paws grow. 
 Where the 'possum climbs the gum-tree, 
 
 Where the buzzards nest and crow; 
 AA'here the plover hides in meadows. 
 
 Where the wild hare takes his flight. 
 Where I first met my Jennie — 
 
 There is my heart tonight. 
 
 "214 
 
Where the red birds sweetly whisper, 
 
 Where grows the mistletoe, 
 \\'here prairie-dogs ai-e harking, 
 
 Where the nioriiing-dove doth coo; 
 \\'here Howers hlooiu in winter. 
 
 Where frost ne'er turns them white, 
 ^^'here honey-bees work ever — 
 
 There is my heart tonight. 
 
 "N^'liei-e the cactns scents the breezes, 
 
 Where frost is seldom known. 
 Where the nightingale doth warble, 
 
 Where the lasso oft is thrown; 
 ^^'llere the eagle screams at mid-day. 
 
 Where panthers meet and tiglit. 
 Where rattlers hiss in darkness — 
 
 There is mv heart tonight. 
 
 Where berries blush in woodlands, 
 
 Where streams run ever free, 
 ^Miere first w^e ate our dinner, 
 
 Beneath an old oak tree — 
 'Twas here I kissed another 
 
 In rapture and delight. 
 Where first she did U])braid me — 
 
 There is mv heart tonight. 
 
 Where the old white house is yearning. 
 
 Where trees bow at the door. 
 Where their shade still mark the heather, 
 
 Where neither come no more; 
 Where winds sing mournful ditties 
 
 O'er her tomb by day and night, 
 Wliere she must slund>er ever — 
 
 There is mv heart tonight. 
 
 215 
 
'My only friend. 
 
 21G 
 
THIS OLD BANJO AND I. 
 
 Through woodlands and valleys, in darkness and light, 
 We journeyed together, night after night, 
 When none but the whippoorwill seemed to be nigh 
 We waited the sunshine, this banjo and I. 
 
 If rain fell in torrents, or mountains of snow, 
 On ever onward we ever would go. 
 We would ask of the stranger who would pass us by 
 The road to a village, this banjo and I. 
 
 How oft near a mountain I've kindled a fire! 
 With coat for a pillow I pre})ared to retire. 
 TMien wear}' from travel, both hungry and dry, 
 We Avould sound Yankee Doodle, this banjo and I. 
 
 The woodlands I love, to these my heart cleaves; 
 I've oft dreamed of heaven when at rest on the leaves; 
 When tears and starvation would my ]»atience defy, 
 We would banish our troubles, this banjo and I. 
 
 This heart is not selfish but cold the world seems, 
 
 All I enjoy is my beautiful dreams. 
 
 In these I see mother and dearies pass by; 
 
 I awake — there's but two, this old banjo and I. 
 
 217 
 
CLEAN TOLEDO, THEN OLD ENGLAND. 
 
 We pound the laws of England 
 With hamniei- and with frail. 
 
 When Man said do not ninrder, 
 He was cast at once in jail. 
 
 Bnt what about Brand Whitlock, 
 Self-stjled the mayor youth, 
 
 Fired one with spotless record, 
 Because he told the truth. 
 
 218 
 
JUDGE AUSTIN'S WISDOM. 
 
 King' Sol of old was woiidioiis wise. 
 But old time wisdtun fadet^i. 
 
 Judge Austin here could beat him blind 
 And give him cards and spades. 
 
 Jim don't turn loose the honey bees 
 To tell the false from true. 
 
 He weighs the justice, then he reads 
 The riot act to vou. 
 
 210 
 
LITTLE DEEDS OF KINDNESS. 
 
 Thru little deeds of kindness 
 
 By experience we find 
 The old sun still keeps shining 
 
 And pacifies the mind. 
 Speak kindly to the stranger 
 
 Give aid to those who call 
 If time doth not repay us. 
 
 Death will end it all. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 220 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 To Good to Keep 11 
 
 Farewell to the IMoav, ( Illustrated I 12 
 
 The Wreck of the Titanic 14 
 
 Sooner or Later 15 
 
 Waters of Minnehaha, (Illustrated i 10 
 
 The Voice of the Sea, ( Illustrated i 19 
 
 To the Memory of Abraham Lincoln, ( Illustrated ) 21 
 
 Elegy Written in the Fort Sill Guard House, Oklahoma 2:> 
 
 Life's Keverie, ( Illustrated) 25 
 
 Her Charges fn^n'oven 28 
 
 A Soldier's Farewell, (Illustrated i 2'.) 
 
 My Lover's Voice, (Illustrated) HI 
 
 When the Second Call was Made, ( Hlustrated ) 3o 
 
 My First Ball 31 
 
 15th Street Before Scraped by Punkhead, (Illustrated) -{O 
 
 The Poet on the Farm, (Illustrated) 37 
 
 The Farmer on the Farm 38 
 
 On the Santa Fe Trail, (Illustrated) 39 
 
 Ted in the Jungles, (Illustrated) 12 
 
 The Baby We Love, ( Illustrated I 43 
 
 The Banker and the Bard, (Illustrated) 45 
 
 Things I don't lender-stand 48 
 
 Welcome, G. A. R 49 
 
 Her Trip to the Well, ( Illustrated i 51 
 
 Anything for Mayor, ( Illustrated i 53 
 
 His Credit No Good 51 
 
 My Drunken Pilot 55 
 
 My Experience as a Soldier 57 
 
 Woman's Creation 59 
 
 Loved but Lost, ( Illustrated ) , fiO 
 
 When I Dream, ( Illustrated) 61 
 
 Lost Cur 63 
 
 Longing for Civilization, (Illustrated) 65 
 
 This City 66 
 
 Spain's Defeat 67 
 
 Onl V a Cup 68 
 
 A Riddle 69 
 
 Their choice, ( Illustrated ) 70 
 
 Fools 71 
 
 Now Beat It. You Long-Legged Jav, (Illustrated) 73 
 
 The Citv of the Dead '. 74 
 
Will You, Jenny Say Yes 75 
 
 Where the Cni4'ew Still Rings, ( Illustrated) 7<> 
 
 Ode to Death 77 
 
 The Horrors of War 78 
 
 My Babies are Waiting for Me, ( Illustrated) 79 
 
 The Departments of Hell 80 
 
 The Parting of Larry and Mandy 82 
 
 The Baltimore Fire 84 
 
 Her First Lesson, (Illustrated) 80 
 
 Our Beauty Shall Fade, ( Illustrated) 87 
 
 The Two jacks, ( Illustrated) 88 
 
 A Tramp's Wit 89 
 
 How I Fooled Father 1)1 
 
 An Old Fiddle's Lament 94 
 
 Oh, Why Should a Man be Proud 95 
 
 A Sabbath Eve in Prison, (Written in the Ft. Sill (iuard House i 96 
 
 Love's Valentine 97 
 
 Why Farming was a Failure 98 
 
 The Other Fellows Girlie Always Looks the Best to Me, I Illustrated. .101 
 
 Have Y'ou Seen It? ' 103 
 
 Our Home is the Ocean, ( Illustrated ) 104 
 
 The Galveston Flood 1 05 
 
 The Hunter and Rose 107 
 
 The Michigan Forests, ( Illustrated ) 1 08 
 
 Dell Hair's Auction Sale 109 
 
 My Lament 1 10 
 
 To Father Time 112 
 
 The Spirit's Reply, ( Illustrated ) 113 
 
 The Poet and the Mule, ( Illustrated ) 115 
 
 'Will Power Against Temptation 116 
 
 Ode to the Spielbush Fountain, ( Illustrated ) 119 
 
 'What's the Matter with Him, Then,'' (Illustrated) 121 
 
 The River of Death, ( Illustrated) 123 
 
 The Tramp's Plight, ( Illustrated ) 12-1 
 
 Paul Jones on the Sea, ( Illustrated i 127 
 
 When I was Weather Prophet 129 
 
 The Farmer's Lot 132 
 
 The Dawn of Day 134 
 
 Self-Adulation, ( Illustrated) 135 
 
 Earth's Creation 136 
 
 Our Martyred President, ( Illustrated ) 139 
 
 Retribution, ( Illustrated I 141 
 
 The Faded Flower, (Illustrated ) 143 
 
 I'm Only a Child Tonight, (Illustrated) 144 
 
 The Squirrel, Daisy and Stream, Illustrated) 146 
 
 In Memorv of Hazen S. Pingree 149 
 
 A Weary ^Bell's Appeal 151 
 
 Life as it is in the United States Army 152 
 
Lake Erie in Caliii, ( Illustrated I 15«^) 
 
 Lake Erie in Storm, ( Illustrated i 157 
 
 The Old ] )nnii and 1 158 
 
 Kepl.v to James Sleetli K50 
 
 Father's Old Chair, ( Illustrated i 1<'»1 
 
 AVhile the Moon in its Sjtlendor Li<;hts Valley and Stream 
 
 ( Illustrated I 1 <'»"i 
 
 liuild It Well K55 
 
 An Indian Girl's Lament, ( Illustrated i !<)" 
 
 The Old (;i<»ek"s Lament 1 ("•'» 
 
 The Pecan and the Oak, ( Illustrated i 172 
 
 To My Absent Wife, ( Illustrated i 1 75 
 
 Christmas Morninij-, I Illusti-ated i 1 77 
 
 At Death's Door. ." 180 
 
 Two Little Graves, ( Illustrated i 183 
 
 Father's Old Shop, ( Illustrated ) 185 
 
 The Call That Broke My Heart 18() 
 
 The Woodland's A{)peal 187 
 
 May, (Illustrated ) 189 
 
 June, (Illustrated ) 191 
 
 The Destroyed World 193 
 
 Why I Pray 193 
 
 After the Storm, ( Illustrated) 194 
 
 The Hoarder of Gold, ( Illustrated) 196 
 
 The Son.1]; of Seasons, ( Illustrated i 198 
 
 The Lily'and the Stork, ( Illustrated I 201 
 
 The Lover's Keturn, ( Illustrated i 202 
 
 The Forest King's Pitiful Tale, ( Illustrated) 205 
 
 The Tale of a Broken Ship, ( Illustrated ) . 207 
 
 Mount Pelee as Described by a Shepherd, ( Illustrated i 208 
 
 Father's Twenty Acres, ( Illustrated i 211 
 
 A Quarrel with the Moon 213 
 
 There is Mv Heart Tonight, ( Illustrated ) 214 
 
 The Old Banjo and 1 217 
 
 Clean Toledo, Then Old England 218 
 
 Judge Austin's Wisdom 219 
 
 Little Deeds of Kindness 220 
 
Al/G U 1912