n Qxa')ki±a±«dcai^^ JosePHlNe POLLHRD ' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ' ®]^f.- ©qpJW 1" Shelf .__:/^v3 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. \in\/ o If) ■■*^i. AGRANT VERSES, JOSEPHINE POLLARD. NEW YORK: PHILLIPS & IIVNT. CINCINNATI: CRANSTON <& STOWE. a- y/ri DEDICATED TO THE iiom:e CI k CLE. ACKNOWLEDGMENT. tHE author's tlianks are due to the editors of the Century^ Ilarjper's Weekly, Indejpendent, New York Ledger, Sunday-School Times, and Congregation- cdist, for permission to use the vagrant verses which originally appeared in those publications. J. P. New York, 1886. CONTENTS. Page A Little Way 9 Always a Kiver to Cross 11 'Twill not be Long 12 The Coming Years 15 Where do You Live ? 17 The Book of Books 20 Not All at Once ... 21 Old and New 23 My Working Days 23 Outside the Gate 27 Comfort 28 Gathering Seed 30 Christ is ox the Cross Again 31 L\ Leading-Strings 33 The Gates of Prayer 34 Between 36 The Elder's Talk 37 The Deacon's Daughter 40 Pluck and Prayer 43 A Wonderful Baby 46 After All 48 Somehow or Other 49 A Sonnet 51 Love's Power 52 Fate or Fortune .- 53 6 Contents. Paffe Don't Take it to Heart 55 The Best Day of the Year 57 The Storm will have its Way 58 With Fresh Young Eyes 60 Over and Over Again 62 The Lark's Foster-Mother 63 What is the Dark ? 65 Repentant 67 June 22, 1884 68 The Common Way 70 The Cradle Song 72 The Eldest Sister 74 God Bless the Lads 75 The Old Style and the New 77 The Favorite Child 80 The Father's Arms 82 The Motherly Way 85 If I were You 87 The Heart of a Child 88 Her Rigiit-Hand Man 91 Confession 93 The Laugh of a Little Child 94 Two Friends 96 Mother's Room 98 A Mother-Boy 100 Love, the Sailing-Master 102 Wounded 104 She and 1 105 Back to His Mother 107 The Lessons of the Street 109 Through and Through Ill At the Close of Day 113 Contents. 7 Page A Plkasant Journey 115 The Lonely Mother 118 Crossing the Ferry 119 At the Pawn-Shop Door 122 Have Faith in the Boy 125 When Dave Comes In 127 The Best Ship Afloat 129 The Hardest Task 131 The "Wheel Goes Round 133 A Corner for You 135 The Price of a Drink 136 Some People We Know 139 Say That You're Sorry 141 The Girls We Used to Know 143 A Worrying Woman 145 Too Deep for That 147 TiiK Law and the Lady 149 A Commonplace Wooing 161 An E very-day Girl 153 The Touch of a Woman's Hand 155 'TwiXT Garret and Cellar 157 The Memory of a Wrong 158 -What Ailed the Pudding ? 100 A Word of Cheer 1C4 A Quiet Friend 165 Keep them Young 167 The Good Things of Life . . 169 An Answered Prayer 170 A Little Bit of Praise 173 One Day op Gladness 175 The Face of a Friend 177 An Angel's Touch 1 V8 8 Contents. Page Saved by a Kiss 181 Tying the Knot 183 Poor Widow Gray 185 In Search of a Flat 187 A Stately Dame 190 The Right of Way 191 Set the Door Ajar 194 The Little Ones at Play 196 Love is Better than Silver and Gold 198 The Heart of a Rose 201 We Cai^not be Happy Alone 203 What will Mother Say ? 205 "A Laugh is Worth a Hundred Groans!"... 206 Mending the Net 208 A Little Girl from Out of Town 211 Coming Down the Stairs 213 The Funny Story 214 VAGRANT VERSES. A LITTLE WAY LITTLE way — I know it is not far 'To that dear home where my be- loved are; And yet my faith grows weaker, as I stand A poor, lone pilgrim in a dreary land. Where present pain the future bliss ob- scures. And still my heart sits, like a bird, upon The empty nest, and mourns its treasures gone ; Plumed for their flight. And vanished quite. Ah! me, where is the comfort? — though I say They have but journeyed on a little way. A little way — at times they seem so near, Their voices ever murmur at my ear ; To all my duties loving presence lend. And with sweet ministry my steps attend And bring my soul the luxury of tears. 10 Vagrant Verses. 'Twas here we met, and parted company ; Why should their gain be such a grief to me? This sense of loss ! This heavy cross ! Dear Saviour, take the burden off, I pray, And show me Heaven is but — a little way. These somber robes, these saddened faces, all The bitterness, and pain, of death recall ; Ah, let me turn my face where'er I may, 1 see the traces of a sure decay ; And parting takes the marrow out of life. Secure in bliss, we hold the golden chain, Which death, with scarce a warning, snaps in twain ; And never more. Shall time restore The broken links ; — 'twas only yesterday They vanished from our sight — a little way ! A little way ! — this sentence I repeat, Hoping, and longing, to extract some sweet To mingle with the bitter. From Thy hand I take the cup I cannot understand, And in my weakness give myself to thee ! A Little Way. 11 Although it seems so very, very far To that dear home where my beloved are, I know, I know, It is not so ; O give me faith to feel it, when I say That they are gone — gone but a little way ! ALWAYS A RIVER TO CROSS. t HERE'S always a river to cross. Always an effort to make If there's any thing good to win, Any rich prize to take ; Yonder's the fruit we crave ; Yonder the charming scene ; But deep and wide, with a troubled tide, Is the river that lies between. For the treasures of precious worth We must patiently dig and dive ; For the places we long to fill We must push, and stru.Q:gle, and drive ; And always and every-where We'll find in our onward course, Thorns for the feet, and trials to meet, And a difticult river to cross. 12 Vagrant Verses. The rougher the way that we take, The stouter the heart and the nerve ; The stones in our path we break, Nor e'er from our impulse swerve ; For the glory we hope to win, Our labors we count no loss ; 'Tis folly to pause and murmur because Of the river we have to cross. So, ready to do and to dare, Should we in our places stand, Fulfilling the Master's will. Fulfilling the soul's demand; For though as the mountains high The billows may rear and toss, They'll not o'erwhelm if the Lord's at the helm When the difficult river we cross ! 'TWILL NOT BE LONG. ^9) 'W^ WILL not be long — this wearying *r }^ commotion. That marks its passage in the human breast. And, like the billows on the heaving ocean That ever rock the cradle of unrest. 'Twill not be Long. 13 Will soon subside ; the happy time is nearing, When bliss, not pain, shall have its rich increase, E'en unto thee the dove may now be steering With glorious message. Wait and hold thy peace, 'Twill not be long! The lamps go out ; the stars give up their shining; The world is lost in darkness for awhile ; And foolish hearts give way to sad repining, And feel as though they ne'er again could smile. Why murmur thus, the needful lesson scorn- ing? O, read thy Teacher and his word aright ; The world would have no greeting for the morning, If 'twere not for the darkness of the night ; 'Twill not be long ! 'Twill not be long: the strife will soon be ended ; The doubts, the fear, the agony, the pain. Will seem but as the clouds that low de- scended. To yield their treasure to the parched plain. 14 Vageant Verses. The times of weakness, and of sore tempta- tions, Of bitter grief and agonizing cry ; These earthly cares and ceaseless tribula- tions Will bring a blissful harvest by and by — 'Twill not be long ! 'Twill not be long; the eye of faith discern- ing The wondrous glory that shall be revealed, Instructs the soul, that every day is learning The better wisdom which the world con- cealed. And soon, ay, soon, there'll be an end of teaching. When mortal vision finds immortal sight. And her true place the soul in gladness reaching, Beholds the glory of the Infinite. 'Twill not be long ! "'Twill not be long!" the heart goes on repeating; It is the burden of the mourner's song ; The w^ork of grace in us He is completing. Who thus assures us — "It will not be long." 'Twill not be Long. 15 His rod and staff our fainting steps sustain- ing Our liope and comfort every day will be; And we may bear our cross as uncomplaining As He who leads us unto Calvary; 'Twill not be long ! THE COMING YEARS. EED-TIME and harvest with assured succession Have paid their tribute to the buried past. The golden fruit has been in our possession Only to crumble into dust at last. Of joy too often have our hearts been cheated, While sorrow led us through a vale of tears. And every bitter pang will be repeated Surely, ay, surely, through the coming years. Untimely frost will chill our fairest blossom. Mad billows sweep our treasures from our sight. And earth receive into its cold, cold bosom The only thing in which we took delight. 16 Vagkant Yerses. Already clothed in majesty most solemn, The foe of peace and happiness appears, Prepared to follow the advancing column, The grand procession of the coming years. O yesterdays ! so full of buried treasure. So full of bliss, and yet so incomplete, Only by your departure can we measure The richness of those hours love made so sweet. So brief ! so sweet ! we part from them with sadness, And keep their memory fragrant with our tears. Knowing full well our hearts shall have of gladness A meager portion in the coming years. The coming years ! O foolish, foolish guess- ers, Little ye know of what is " yea" or " nay ; " Of doubts and fears the cowardly conf essers. Ye rob to-morrow and defraud to-day. Be this your beacon-light in hours of sadness, Higher and deeper than your hopes and fears. That, like a miracle of youth and gladness, Christ Cometh ever with the coming years. The Coming Yeaks. 17 Trust him, though other joys slip from your keeping, Trust him, my soul, and patiently await The time ajjpointed for a blissful reaping, None the less precious that it cometh late. E'en as the sun, the morning mist dispelling, The heart of nature with its jDromise cheers. So love from day to day is sweetly telling Of faithful service through the coming years. WHERE DO YOU LIVE? <>^ Wl KNEW a man, and his name was llf Horner, Who used to live on Grumble Corner; Grumble Corner in Cross-Patch Town, And he never was seen without a frown. He grumbled at this; he grumbled at that; He growled at the dog ; he growled at the cat; He grumbled at morning; he grumbled at night; And to grumble and growl were his chief delight. 2 18 Vagkant Yekses. He grumbled so much at his wife that she Began to grumble as well as he ; And all the children, wherever they went, Reflected their parents' discontent. If the sky was dark and betokened rain, Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain ; And if there was never a cloud al)out He'd grumble because of a threatened drought. His meals were never to suit his taste ; He grumbled at having to eat in haste ; The bread was poor, or the meat was tough, Or else he hadn't had half enough. No matter how hard his wife might try To please her husband, with scornful eye He'd look around, and then, with a scowl At something or other, begin to growl. One day, as I loitered along the street. My old acquaintance I chanced to meet. Whose face was without the look of care, And the ugly frown that it used to wear. '' I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said. As, after saluting, I turned my head; "But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner Who lived so long on Grumble Corner! " Where do You Live? 19 I met him next day; and I met him again, In melting weather and pouring rain, When stocks were up, and when stocks were down ; But a smile somehow had replaced the frown. It puzzled me much ; and so, one day, I seized his hand in a friendly way. And said : " Mr. Horner, I'd like to know What can have happened to change you so?" He laughed a laugh that was good to hear; For it told of a conscience calm and clear, And he said, with none of the old-time drawl, " Why, I've changed my residence, that is all ! " "Changed your residence?" "Yes," said Horner, "It wasn't healthy on Grumble Corner, And so I mov^ed ; 'twas a change complete ; And you'll find me now on Thanksgiving Street ! " Now, every day as I move along The streets so filled with the busy throng, I watch each face, and can always tell Where men and women and children dwell ; 20 Vagrant Verses. And many a discontented mourner Is spending his days on Grumble Cor- ner, Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat To take a house on Thanksgiving Street. THE BOOK OF BOOKS. I HAVE a little book at home, it has been mine for years ; "" There's many, many a leaf within that's blotted with my tears ; The covers are defaced, and e'en the gild- ing worn with age. And pencil-marks are scattered round on nearly every page. My father gave this book to me, O, many years ago, When little of its real worth or import I could know ; It pleased my fancy and my pride ; I felt extremely grand, That I had such a pretty book to carry in my hand. The Book of Books. 21 But when the first great sorrow came — my loving father died — And broken-hearted, how I longed to lay down by his side ! Within this book I found that God would comfort and would bless, And be a heavenly Father to the poor and fatherless. When I am saddened or perplexed, with trials sore distressed, I read that he will surely "give the heavy- laden rest ; " In every trouble of my life unto this rock I flee. And sweet refreshing streams of love seem gushing out to me. NOT ALL AT ONCE. OT all at once, but day by day, Our debt of gratitude we pay To Him whose care for us exceeds Our knowledge of our daily needs. As sun and showers Enrich the flowers 22 Vagrant Verses. That bud and bloom in yonder vale, Nor deem it ill To drink their fill Of fragrant incense they exhale, So we, who greater good receive That we more noble lives may live, As sweet acknowledgment may pay. Not all at once — but day by day. Not all at once may we attain To any good we hope to gain, Nor soar by rapid, eager flights From darkest depths to sunnier heights. The little rills That skirt the hills And breathe a trembling melody. May join ere long The solemn song. The anthem of the sounding sea. Through dark ravine, down mountain slope, Through all the labyrinths of hope, They journey on their devious way. And gather courage day by day. Not all at once does heaven appear To those who watch with vision clear, And eager longings to behold Its pearly gates and streets of gold ; Not All at Once. 23 But from the wheel Of life we reel The silken thread so finely spun, Through light and gloom, Nor leave the loom Till death declares our task is done. And if the heart with love be filled, And if the soul with joy be thrilled. Then heaven will shine upon our way, Not all at once — but day by day ! OLD AND NEW. fHE Old Year sat beside the hearth In thoughtful mood ; the hour was late ; And ere he vanished from the earth, The past he fain would contemplate. " I brought a w^ealth of joy for those Who had o'erburdened been with grief," He said, " and for unnumbered woes Furnished the cordial of relief. " To some I gave a garden's bloom, Sweet pansies and forget-me-nots ; To some the cypress, and the tomb, The barrenness of desert spots. 24 Vagrant Verses. With Love I tarried for a while, Breathing the sweet elysian air ; And bidding Hope serenely smile Across the threshold of Despair. " I entered on my natal hour Burdened alike with bliss and bane, Commissioned by my Lord to dower Some hearts with ease, and some with pain. Where happiness had rich increase, I shall be honored long, I know ; But those I robbed of joy and peace — They will be glad to have me go ! " I've followed many a bridal train ; Have watched by many a lonely bier : With birth and death, with loss and gain. Made up the record of the year. And now beside December's gate Where hangs the years' alarum bell, I pause to scan the past, and wait The sound of my own funeral knell. " One ! — How the hours have slipped away ! Two ! — Some will weep with sore regret; Three ! — Could I still on earth delay — Four! — Some good I might accomplish yet. Old and New. 25 Five ! — An angelic song awoke ! Six ! — Surely are the fetters riven, Seven ! — Soon I shall hear the final stroke — Eight! — Chime sweetly with the clock of heaven ! ^^N'ine ! — I am nearer to my goal ! Ten ! — Time must eternity begin ! Eleven ! — Awake, immortal soul ! Twelve ! — Farewell ! and let the New Year in ! " " T come the Old Year's debts to pay ! I come his promises to keep ; To walk upon the world's highway. And deck the grave where dear ones sleep. Where he gave smiles I may give tears, Life's path with good or ill bestrew ; For unto him who views the years The new is old, the old is new ! " MY WORKING DAYS. f COUNT my working days the best. When strong of Avill, and firm of nerve, I did Ambition's high behest, And made all things my purpose serve. 26 Vagrat^t Verses. I trod the path with eager feet That led me on through days of toil, And found my nightly slumbers sweet, When angels fed my lamp with oil. Then great and glowing was the prize Toward which I aimed : a planet bright, That shone before my wondering eyes With no uncertain, wavering light. TIow swift the busy moments sped ! IIow soon life's morning hours were spent! And ever was my daily bread Sweet with the honey of content ! The years may bring me rich reward ; Rare fruitage of the seed once sown ; And in my gran'ries may be stored The generous gifts of every zone ; But I shall miss the earnest strife, That lured me on to reach the goal ; That warmed the currents of my life, And fired each impulse of the soul. And in those later days of ease. When life has lost its wonted zest, My mind will dwell on thoughts like these. And count my working days the best. Outside the Gate. 27 OUTSIDE THE GATE. Him that coraeth unto me, I will in no wise cast out." t STOOD outside the gate, A poor, wayfaring child ; Within my heart there beat A tempest, loud and wild. A fear oppressed my soul, That I might be too late ; And O, I trembled sore. And prayed, outside the gate. "Mercy !" I loudly cried ; " O give me rest from sin ! " " I will," a voice replied ; And Mercy let me in. She bound my bleeding wounds ; She soothed my aching head ; She eased my burdened soul. And bore the load instead. In Mercy's guise, I knew The Saviour long abused ; Who often sought my heart, And wept when I refused. 28 Vagkant Vekses. O what a blest return For ignorance and sin ! / stood outside the gate, And Jesus let me in ! COMFORT. OW could I rest upon my nightly pil- low In sweet forgetfuhiess of wrong or pain, Within a harbor where no vexing billow Suggests the tortures of the restless main ; Did not thy presence, O beloved Saviour ! Subdue the tempest on life's stormy sea ; Didst thou not, w^ith unwearied love and favor Come in and comfort me ? It may be that to-morrow I must travel A rougher road than e'er my feet have known ; In darker mazes painfully unravel The clew that leads me to tliy glorious throne : Comfort. 29 But thou hast promised me thy sure protec- tion, And dark or dangerous though the way may be I trust alone to Jesus for direction ; And he will comfort me ! Not with the w^ords that earthly friendship giveth ; Not with such meager manna will he feed The soul that in his righteousness believeth, And trusts to him in every hour of need : But with a heart that comprehends our an- guish, And asks us not to bear the weight alone, lie will come in where we in silence lan- guish. And make our griefs his own. So, when my house is shadowed by a trial That sets me from my fellow-men a[)art, Thou wilt of solitude take no denial. But enterest through the door-way of my heart. Thy hand is on me. Lord, to keep me lowly ; What thou hast hid I do not wish to see ; Thou knowest all the way ; I trust thee wholly ; And thou dost comfort me. 30 Vagrant Verses. GATHERING SEED. X B^^^'^ "^ ^^^^ highways, wherever we go, <^(y Seed we must gather and seed we must sow ; Even the tiniest seed has a power, Be it a thistle, or be it a flower. Here, where it seems but a wilderness-place. Wanting in beauty, and wanting in grace; Some gentle creature in tenderness goes, Plucking the nettle and planting the rose. Out of those gardens so gorgeous with flowers. Seed we may gather to beautify ours ; While from our own little plot we may spare Something to render our neighbors' more fair. Out of each moment some good we obtain. Something to winnow and scatter again ; All that we listen to, all that we 7'ead, All that we think of, is gathering seed. Gathering Seed. 31 Gathering seed, we must scatter as well ; God will watch over the place where it fell; Only the gain of the harvest is ours ; Shall we plant nettles? or shall we plant flowers ? That which we gather is that which we sow; Seed-time and harvest alternately flow ; When we have finished with Time 'twill be known How we have gathered, and lio\o we have sown ! CHRIST IS ON THE CROSS AGAIN! ^/x5vN the hill -top darkness gathers; viS' In the valley mists arise; While upon unholy altars Burn the carnal sacrifice. Men, with mocking jeers and laughter, Temples of the Lord profane ; Crowned with thorns, and sorely wounded, Christ is on the cross again ! 32 Vagrant Veeses. All his words and deeds despising, They the King of kings dethrone ; Mix again the gall and wormwood For the Saviour they disown. Spit upon, despised, rejected, Filled with agony and pain, Yet with mercy overflowing, Christ is on the cross again ! Money-changers fill the places To his worship set apart ; Friends forsake, and foes deride him, Tramj^le on his bleeding heart; Tears and groanings are unheeded. Seamless robe is rent in twain. Heart and hand alike consenting, Christ is on the cross again ! Hear the chorus of blasphemers Breaking into ribald song ! See the scornful unbelievers Mingle with the murd'rous throng! See the precious life-blood flowing From his side like crimson rain ! Tremble, earth, and veil thy glories ; Christ is on the cross again ! In Leading-Strings. 33 IN LEADING-STRINGS. [^'^T'HEN infant steps essayed to go Beyond the boundary assigned, In search of lands they did not know, In search of joys they hoped to find, Love would control the restless things, And held them safe in leading-strings. The way we choose may not be safe ; A thousand perils we may meet ; And though impatiently we chafe At clogs that lofty aims defeat, In safer path Love surely brings The child in need of leading-strings. I would not be without a guide Along these giddy paths I tread ; Where yawning gulfs on either side Betray the feet, confuse the head ; And while I walk 'mid earthly things I would be kept in leading-strings. Love's guiding impulse I would know, When trials come, and death alarms ; And when life's tenure slips, would go Straightway to Love's embracing arms. Then, when my spirit finds its wings, I shall be out of leadino^-strinojs! 34 Vagkant Verses. THE GATES OF PRAYER. OW would the soul grow weary of its plaint, And pine upon the threshold of de- spair, If no one came to succor it when faint. Or hearken to its agonizing' prayer ! How long ! How long ! A kneeling throng Might supplicate, and find their suit de- nied, If 'twere not for a Saviour crucified ! How far away would seem that Canaan- land ; How wide the chasm at our feet appear ; If faith had not the dark abysm spanned, And made those distant glories seem more near ! O Love ! O Light ! There is no night To any soul that patiently awaits God's gracious answer through those heav- enly gates. The Gates of Prayer. 35 Sweet gates of prayer, that open to a breath ! What heart its aspirations would subdue, And see its hopes fall in th' embrace of death, That might have passed those shining portals through ? With Jesus there. Those gates of prayer Can never close ; for Calvary has won The peace of God, through his Beloved Son ! The little child that by a mother's knee Lisps forth its morning or its evening prayer, Can move those gates of mercy, and from Thee Receive assurance of a Father's care. By night, by day, O Christ ! I pray Keep me, thy child, so humble in thy sight That I may have thy presence day and night. O lovely gates ! your golden hinges turn Ere yet our lips have framed their first request. And when our souls for his dear presence yearn, We find our answer, ere it is confessed. 36 Vageant Verses. With empty hands The sinner stands, And leaves himself, and all his burdens, there Where Christ is stationed : at the Gates of Prayer. BETWEEN. [^ETWEEN the cradle and the grave, Our comincj and our g-o'mcr There stretches out an Eden-land, Where all good things are growing, Good things of God's bestowing, Between the cradle and the grave, Our coming and our going. Between the morning and the night, The blooming and the folding, Great ships that come from fragrant lands, Their precious freights unlading, Pursue their friendly trading, Between the morning and the night, The blooming and the fading. Between. 37 Between thy heart and mine, beloved, What wealth of bliss is lying ! What fragrant clusters of delight, The frosts of time defying ! The wine of life supplying! Between thy heart and mine, beloved, An Eden-land is lying. THE ELDER'S TALK. [^EEN down to evenin' meetin', to hear what the parson'd say. Parson is college I'arnt, an' a mightily clever man; An' it warms one up to hear him talk o' the Judgment-day, An' the lake o' fire an' brimstun, as no other parson can. Sometimes it's hard to foller him up to the h'ights so grand. When he argers on pints o' doctrine, an' non-confrumity views; But it pleases some o' the folks who'd rayther not understand. An' say, " Why, thet's bekase the pulpit's higher 'n the pews." 38 Vagrant Verses. Well, mebbe so; but my Nancy Nancy is wise enough, An' talks like a jDarson, too, herself, when things in the house go wrong — That folks may go, for all she cares, to hear the botherin' stuff, But she don't never hanker arter any thing quite so strong. But ther' wa'n't any preachin' that night that Nancy and me went down — For parson was mighty sick, an' tuk in a suddent way — Though Deacon Potter was there, an' like- wise Deacon Brown, An' 'twas thought thet Elder Iloppock might hev a little to say. The elder's as humbly a man as ever you'd wish to see, An' ha'n't any more book-1'arnin' than the most on us, I guess; But ther' aint a child in the deestrick that wouldn't climb on his knee, An' he's al'ays the one the women go to in any sort o' distress. The Elder's Talk. 39 No, I can't remember the sermon, to give it out word by word; It wa'n't the sort o' a discourse thet any man can repeat; But it went like a liery needle through every body thet heard. An' each on us felt as ef somehow he'd got in the anxious seat. We all shuck hands arter meetin', an' I couldn't help it, I vow; My heart was so kind o' full o' what the elder had said Thet I told the Widow Jinkins— who hed lost her only cow — Thet I'd take the hide, an' send her a better one instead. I tell yer that talk went down to the very soles of our boots, Makin' us toe the mark, an' turn from our selfish ways. An' a-tearin' our sinful feelin's up by the very roots, An' a-givin' the Lord an' Master hisself the hull o' the praise. 40 Vagrant Verses. Sound enough is the parson; but poor folks, like us, you know, Logic an' I'arnin' an' stiffness once in a while ken excuse, For the sake o' that good, old-fashioned, ginuine sort o' glow That warms us up when the pulpit gits down ez low ez the j)ews! 'Tain't any use a-h'istin' denominational poles An' a settin' the bread o' life on top o' the cupboard shelf. For the only way to get at these hide-bound, perishin' souls Is ter feel that yer aint any better or more desarvin' yerself ! THE DEACON'S DAUGHTER. ^^^E ACON ALLEN had a little daughter, ^^^ Very sweet and wise. With the wondrous lore the angelj; taught her Sparkling in her eyes. The Deacon's Daughter. 41 Thus by one who deemed her more than human, Angel she was styled; Unto us she seemed not yet a woman, And yet more than child. In the meshes of her sweet demeanor Every heart was caught; And in every field, with Love, the gleaner, Love's reward she sought. Deacon Allen loved his little daughter As his very life ; For the angels who from Heaven brought her Took away his wife. Precious things are very fair and fragile, Touched with dainty grace ; And her step, so wondrous light and agile, And her rare sweet face, Were as portions of some weird creation That excites amaze. And with strangely subtle fascination Haunts us all our days. 42 Vagrant Verses. Said the Deacon: "Some day she will marry — This sweet pet of mine — And her choice my wishes shall not parry By the slightest sign. " She's a loving, sunny little creature, Wiser than her sex; Foolish it would be for me to teach her Problems that perplex. " No. In all her wishes and desires Gladly I'll concur; And when age destroys my wonted fires I will dwell with her." Said the maid, as if, more wise than human, All his thoughts she knew: " When I grow up to be a great big woman, I'll keep house for you ! " Did her eyes grow bluer with the vision That her future spanned. Of a dwelling-place in fields Elysian, Where her feet should stand ? Who can know? Some pages of her story Feebly we may spell ; But of the other side, the hidden glory, We've no skill to tell. The Deacon's Daughter. 43 Angels came for Deacon Allen's daughter, One remembered night; Bridal wreath and pearly gems they brought her, Lying there so white. For so slight a hold on earth was given To the darling's keep, She had but to close her eyes, and Heaven Turned the key on sleep. " She is married," says the mourning father. Underneath his breath. ** She had many suitors, but would rather Be the bride of Death. " I shall see her when, my journey ended. Yonder heights are gained. And by angels whom I once befriended Shall be entertained ! " PLUCK AND PRAYER. tHERE wa'n't any use o' frettin', An' I told Obadiah so, ^^ For ef we couldn't hold on to things. We'd jest got to let 'em go. 44 Va(Jkant Verses. There were lots of folks that 'd suffer Along with the rest of us, And it didn't seem to be worth our while To make such a dreffle fuss. To be sure, the barn was 'most empty, An' corn an' pertaters sca'ce. An' not much of any thing plenty an' cheap But water — an' apple-sass. But then — as I told Obadiah — It wa'n't any use to groan, For flesh an' blood couldn't stan' it ; an' he Was nothing but skin an' bone. But, laws ! ef you'd only heerd him. At any hour of the niglit, A-prayin' out in that closet there, 'Twould have set you crazy quite. I patched the knees of those trousers With cloth that was noways thin, But it seemed as ef the pieces wore out As fast as I set 'em in. To me he said mighty little Of the thorny way we trod. But at least a dozen times a day He talked it over with God. Pluck and Pkayer. 45 Down on his knees in that closet The most of his time was passed ; For Obadiah knew how to pray- Much better than how to fast. But I am that way contrairy That ef things don't go jest right, I feel like rollin' my sleeves up high An' gittin' ready to fight. An' the giants I slew that winter I aint goin' to talk about ; An' I didn't even complain to God, Though I think that he found it out. With the point of a cambric needle I druv the wolf from the door, For I knew that we needn't starve to death Or be lazy because we were poor. An' Obadiah he wondered. An' kept me patchin' his knees. An' thought it strange how the meal held out. An' stranger we didn't freeze. But I said to myself in whispers, " God knows where his gift descends ; An' 'tisn't always that faith gits down As far as the finy^er-ends." 46 Vagrant Vehses. An' I wouldn't have no one reckon My Obadiali a shirk, For some, you know, have the gift to pray, And others the gift to work. A WONDERFUL BABY. JIS a wonderful baby, I cannot deny it, The loveliest, sweetest, that ever was made ; And no silver or gold in the country could buy it, Nor jewels — though e'en a queen's casket were paid. We humor and fondle, we kiss and caress it, Are anxious whenever it's out of our sight ; And we call it pet names — such as " queen- lamb," and " blessed," " Dear old precious darling I " from morn- ing till night. If we have any joys, if we have any trouble. If over our pathway a dark shadow lowers. Our griefs we divide, and our pleasures we double, Because of this wonderful baby of ours. A Wonderful Baby. 47 It never is cross, impatient, or fretful, Like most other babies that you and I know ; And we would be never unkind or forgetful Of all that to this precious darling we owe. Its face is all wrinkled — now isn't that funny ? Its step has been feeble for many a day, And over the brow where were ringlets once sunny There now are soft tresses of silvery gray. You'll think I am foolish and frivolous, may be — Declaring the truth I have surely not told; But this precious old darling, this wonder- ful baby, So dear to our hearts, is near eighty years old. By care and caresses we give to no other, Her care and her kindness we strive to repay ; And- we thank the dear Father in heaven that MOTHER, With heart young as ever, is with us to-day ! 48 Vageant Vekses. AFTER ALL.* jT^XESPITE the prayers and tears and ^rr^ earnest pleading, And piteous protest o'er a hero's fall, Despite the hoj^eful signs our hearts mis- leading, Death cometh after all ! Over the brightest scenes are clouds de- scending ; The flame soars highest ere its deepest fall; The glorious day has all too swift an end- ing : Night cometh after all ! O'er bloom or beauty now in our posses- sion Is seen the shadow of the funeral pall ; Though Love and Life make tearful inter- cession, Death cometh after all ! * A tribute to Gartield. Somehow or Other. 49 SOMEHOW OR OTHER. )IFE has a burden for every one's slioulder, None may escape from its trouble and care ; Miss it in youth, and 'twill come when we're older, And fit us as close as the garments we wear. Sorrow comes into our homes uninvited, Robbing the heart of its treasure of song; Lovers grow cold, and our friendships are slighted. Yet somehow or other we worry along ! 'Mid the sweet blossoms that smile in our faces, Grow the dank weeds that would poison and blight ; And e'en in the midst of earth's beautiful places There 's always a something that isn't just right ! •4 50 Vagrant Verses. Yet oft from a rock we may pluck a gay flower, And drink from a spring in a desolate waste ; They come to the heart like a heavenly dower, And naught is so sweet to the eye or the taste. Every-day toil is an every-day blessing, Though poverty's cottage and crust we may share ; Weak is the back on which burdens are pressing, But stout is the heart that is strengthened by prayer, Somehow or other the pathway grows brighter, Just when we mourned there was none to befriend ; Hope in the heart makes the burden seem lighter, And somehow or other we get to the end ! A Sonnet. 51 A SONNET. NCE a poet wrote a sonnet All about a pretty bonnet, And a critic sat upon it, (On the sonnet, Not the bonnet,) Nothing loath. And as if it were high treason. He said, " Neither rhyme nor reason Has it. And it's out of season ! " Which? The sonnet? Or the bonnet ? May be both. " 'Tis a feeble imitation Of a worthier creation, An aesthetic innovation !" Of a sonnet? Or a bonnet ? This was hard. Both were put together neatly, Harmonizing very sweetly, But the critic crushed completely. Not the bonnet, Or the sonnet, But the bard. 62 Vagbant Vekses. LOVE'S POWER. <>^ iTLF I were blind, and thou shouldst enter ilL E'er so softly in the room, I should know it, I should feel it. Something subtle would reveal it. And a glory round thee center That would lighten up the gloom. And my heart would surely guide me, With Love's second-sight provide me. One amid the crowd to find. If I were blind ! If I were deaf, and thou hadst spoken Ere tliy presence I had known, I should know it, I should feel it, Something subtle w^ould reveal it, And the seal at once be broken By Love's liquid undertone ; Deaf to other, stranger voices. And the Avorld's discordant noises — Whisper, wheresoe'er thou art, 'Twill reach my heart ! Love's Powek. 53 If I were dead, and tliou shouldst venture Near the coffin where I lay, I should know it, I should feel it, Something subtle would reveal it, And no look of mildest censure Rest upon that face of clay. Shouldst thou kiss nie, conscious flashes Of Love's fire through Death's cold ashes Would give back the cheek its red. If I were dead ! FATE OR FORTUNE? T life's gate two angels stand — Fate and Fortune — at each hand, Ready guidance to bestow On our pilgrimage below; Veiled so closely, the disguise Is not clear to mortal eyes. For awhile we tread on flowers, Joy and gladness fill the hours; Friends surround us, wealth and fame, All that happiness can claim, And we say, attended thus, Fortune has befriended us ! 54 Vagrant Verses. Then the clouds and storms appear, Pain and sufferings severe, Losses, crosses, deepest woe Any loving heart can know. Until, wrecked and desolate. We seem left the sport of Fate. Oft the thing that seems amiss Leads us up to higher bliss ; While the good we covet so Drags us down to depths below; — Who can tell in such a strait, Which is Fortune? — which is Fate? Human hearts discover crowns Li the dark when Fortune frowns; And to pleasure are inclined, And the world, when Fate is kind. Only Wisdom can attest Which the guide that serves us best. That which we Misfortune call Ls no enemy at all. But the angel Heaven sends. By whose aid we try our friends — Prove them false, or prove them true, As before we could not do. Fate or Fortune? So 'tis well to murmur not At the changes in our lot ; But to trust Him every day Who goes with us all the way, And from life to death's dark gate Rules our Fortune and our Fate. [The poem, " Don't take it to Heart," appeared in the " New York Ledger " of July 13, 1872. In " Tins- ley's Magazine " for November, 1876, a poem appeared with the same title, bearing the signature of Georgi- ana C. Clark. The first two stanzas were taken bodily from my poem, and the remainder was given an En- glisli twist that would dispel any suspicion of its American birthright. The poem has been widely copied, and the original author has had frequent op- portunity to consider the irony of the title, and the presumption of the plagiarist.] DON'T TAKE IT TO HEART. t HERE'S many a trouble would break like a bubble, And into the waters of Lethe depart, Did we not rehearse it, and tenderly nurse it, ^ And give it a permanent home in the heart. 56 Vagrant Verses. There's many a sorrow would vanish to- morrow, Were we not unwilling to furnish the wings ; So, daily intruding, and quietly brood- ing. It hatches out all sorts of horrible things. There's many a pleasure might prove a sweet treasure. Did we in our hearts let it bourgeon and bloom ; But joys that invite us will flourish to spite us, And laugh at our foolish surrender to gloom. There's many a trifle whose growth we might stifle With laugh, or with joke, or more deli- cate art ; But careful to nourish, 'twill rapidly flour- ish. And seem like a mountain of fire on the heart. Don't take it to Heart. 57 Give wings, then, to sorrow, and draw from to-morrow The sunshine to scatter the grief that annoys ; This world would be brighter, our hearts would be lighter. Thought we less of our sorrows and more of our joys. THE BEST DAY OF THE YEAR. F all the days that round the year, And make the chain complete. Of all the days that win your praise, Which is the best, my sweet ? From Sunday morn till Saturday night, Which fills you with the most delight ? Come near, come near, and tell me, dear, Which day is the best of all the year? She bent her head as if in thought — The winsome little maid — And fixed her gaze as if the days Were all out on parade; From early spring to the winter drear. The buds and blossoms of the year. While she pursued her eager quest To find the day she liked the best. 58 Vagkant Verses. I thought of days to which Time lent A glory all their own; No other days with such a blaze Of wondrous luster shone; From Sunday morn till Saturday night, They filled the week with rare delight, And with a light serenely clear Illuminated all the year. My darling turned her face toward me, From anxious thought beguiled. And with her arm about my neck She said — the precious child ! — " From Sunday morn till Saturday night, There is no day that suits me quite So well as this; for you are here, And TO-DAY is the best of all the year ! " THE STORM WILL HAVE ITS WAY. tHE rain came beating down; the winds blew fierce and loud ; The mightiest of the trees before the blast were bowed ; And I seemed to hear them say, on that dark, tempestuous day: "Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will have its way." The Storm will have its Way. 59 The blossoms that appeared so beautiful and strong, And held their heads up bravely all the summer long, No longer bright and gay, submissively could say: "Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will have its way." The spirit that would dare, with proud, de- fiant form. To fiirht ascainst the wiiirlwind, or battle with the storm, Fate, surely, will compel its useless rage to quell. And learn 'tis better to endure than always to rebel. Through the woods and meadows, as the ' tempest goes. They are soonest wrecked who its onward way oppose; They their fears allay who, ready to obey, Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will have its way. Aching, breaking heart, o'erwhelmed with griefs and pains. Weary of the beating of autumnal rains, 60 Vagrant Verses. On thy knees, I say, for pluck and patience pray, Stoop, and let it pass. The storm will have its way. WITH FRESH YOUNG EYES. OW fair and sweet the earth appears. How blue and bright the skies. How wide the scope, How full of hope To fresh young eyes! From them the roses hide their thorns, For them the world herself adorns Each year anew; new charms displays To captivate their youthful gaze. The homely and familiar scenes Which we but notice to despise. Always possess Some loveliness To fresh young eyes. They see the sunlight shining through The shadows, and obtain a view Of charming vistas, and delight In what is common in our sight. With Fkesh Young Eyes. 61 The world of fancy, and of fame And fortune, so alluring, lies, 'Mid splendors gay, Not far away From fresh young eyes, That look with smiling hope and trust Beyond the valleys filled with dust; Nor at the mountains are dismayed That all the pathways barricade. The mist that veils the morning sun Before their vision swiftly flies. And every-where The prospect's fair To fresh young eyes. Undimraed by trials and by tears, Untouched by cares of later years, They look abroad on skies serene. Nor see the clouds that intervene. Ah, with what rapturous delight — Ah, with what tender, sweet surprise — Earth's glories burst Resplendent first On fresh young eyes ! What though the false appeared the true I What though the old appeared the new! 'Twere better than to be too wise, And see no more with fresh young eyes. 62 Vagrant Vekses. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. VER and over again, No matter which way I turn, I always find in the Book of Life Some lesson I have to learn ; I must take my turn at the mill, I must grind out the golden grain, I must work at my task with a resolute will. Over and over again. W^e cannot measure the need Of even the tiniest flower, Nor check the flow of the golden sands That run through a single hour; But the morning dew must fall. And the sun and the summer rain Must do their part, and perform it all Over and over again. Over and over again The brook through the meadow flows. And over and over again The ponderous mill-wheel goes : Once doing will not suffice, Though doing be not in vain; And a blessing failing us once or twice May come if we try again. Over and Over Again. 63 The path that has once been trod Is never so rough to the feet ; And the lesson we once have learned Is never so hard to repeat. Though sorrowful tears may fall, And the heart to its depths be riven With storm and tempest, we need them all To render us meet for heaven. THE LARK'S FOSTER-MOTHER. PARTRIDGE roaming o'er a field, Espied a nest but half concealed By grasses overgrown. And from within the moss-rimmed cup A pretty speckled egg peeped up, Looking forlorn, alone. The timid creature, fearing ill Might harm the egg, already chill, By generous impulse stirred. Slipped quietly upon the nest. And folded close against her breast The cradle of a bird. 64 Vageant Veeses. She watched and fed the nestliiip: small. And blithely answered to its call, As if it were her own, From many of her ways beguiled Because of this ])eculiar child Upon her bounty thrown. When she believed 'twould tiptoe out. And roam the harvest fields about, Or join the partridge throng, Behold, it poised its wings and flew Up toward the heavens, so bright and blue, In ecstasy of song ! The foster-mother looked and heard The carol of enfranchised bird. And felt a blissful thrill, Tliat she, so humble and so plain. Had helped another one to gain The niche 'twas meant to fill. And often may the lowly heart, I^erforming well a noble part To one amid life's throng. Awaken with a glad surprise, When, like a lark, the birdling flies. And floods the world with song. What is the Dark? 65 WHAT IS THE DARK? 1^1^ ^(^jTHAT is the dark?" I asked the child As I led her out of the lighted room Into the shadows that gathered close, And veiled our faces in midnight gloom, Hiding the luster of loving eyes, That lately looked out of Paradise. " What is the dark ? " I asked, intent To puzzle awhile the little maid. Who held my hand in a careless grasp. As if she wasn't a bit afraid Of ghost or goblin that might appear To test her courage as night drew near. I thought of the demons that filled the dark — Of the horrid shapes that my childhood knew, When I touched the pilloAV, and over my head The sheet and coverlet quickly drew. While I lay there shivering with affright. And longing for morn to dispel the night. 5 66 . Vagrant Verses. And I fancied a problem 'twould be to her — That wee little maid — as it was to me ; And I meant to comfort and soothe her well, And set her mind from its fancies free, If she shook with terror, or spoke her dread, As I tucked her into her little bed. " What is the dark ?" I asked again. As she ceased her prattle; "come, tell me, dear ; " And I drew her close to my loving heart. That I might stifle each rising fear : But she answered me with a courage bold, "*What is the dark?' Why, the lUjIit grown old!'''' Truly, O, truly ; and sweet is life To those whom darkness can ne'er appall ; Whose faith and hope are luminous when The deepest shadows are over all ; The day, like a rose, for them burns bright. And fades like a flower when comes the night. Repentant. 67 REPENTANT. "ijrar OTHER, I kneel on the door-stone, ^l^^l. Penitent, weary, and worn ; Many a mile have I wandered, And fasted since yesterday morn ; Darkness is gathering round me, Never again shall I roam ; Oj^en the door to me, mother ; Welcome your prodigal home! Father was angry — so angry — And stern, when he knew my disgrace ; He thrust me away from his presence, And then shut the door in my face ! But, mother, your love did not leave me ; I saw the tear ready to start, And knew that though guilty and banished, I still had a place in your heart ! They say you grow feebler and feebler, By reason of sorrow and shame ; That your hair is as white as a snow-wreath, And 't is seldom you mention my name. But, O, I will never believe them. When slander like this they repeat ; For the voice of my mother has called me. And brought me again to her feet. 68 Vagrant Verses. She talked to the Saviour about me, And prayed — as a mother can pray ! And back to the fold he has brouglit me, The lamb who went wand'ring astray. I soon became weary of exile ; I soon became weary of sin ; And longed for a life that was purer ; But who would have taken me in ? O mother, dear, say you forgive me, And take me again to your breast ! Nor let me die here on the door-stone. Alone, unforgiven, unblest! Come quickly ! — a footstep approaches ! Not yours — but another's ! — good-bye ! Tell father — that God — has not — left nie- Outside of his threshold to die ! JUNE 22, 1884. triE breath of June was in the air, Its sweetness unexcelled. In groves of leafy luxury The birds their councils held, And all the meadows far and near With daisies white were pied ; The sun shone bright — the sky was clear- The day that mother died. June 22, 1884. 69 A Sabbath calm — a holy hush — Deep o'er the senses stole, To calm the tumult of the mind, The anguish of the soul. The earth gave all it had to give, The roses bloomed with pride, And O, it seemed a joy to live The day that mother died ! A robin to the window came At early dawn, and sang Its matin song ; so loud and clear The jubilate rang. We closed the sash that she who slept, The shadowed room within. Might not be broken of her rest By such a noisy din. Ah, vain the watch! the loving care! For sometime in the night. Without a struggle or a sigh. The spirit took its flight ; And to the window of our hearts The robin came with song, To tell us that the one we loved Had joined the angel throng. 70 Vagrant Verses. We scarce could realize our loss, So sudden came the stroke ; The "silver cord" against our hearts Snapped harshly when it broke ; And though the sky was bright and clear, Sunshine and song outside, Our home seemed very dark and drear The day that mother died. The wells of sorrow are not spent, The troubled waters flow, And many, many trials yet The living heart must know ; But we, familiar with the pall, By tenderest bonds allied. Tasted the bitterest cup of all The day that mother died. THE COMMON WAY. [rilTOW many frown at a common lot, (^^.l- And turn from the common way. Where rare exotics will blossom not. Nor birds at their bidding stay ; The dust of travel offends their sight When riches have taken wings. And they marvel at those who find delight In e very-day, common things. The Common Way. 71 To some is given the rich estate Encumbered with anxious care ; While others still for their fortune wait In castles they 've built in air ; To one the splendor of princely halls, The title to noble lands ; To another only the crumbling walls, And empty and toil-worn hands. To one the crown and a life of ease; To one the cross and the pain ; To one the heii^hts and the stately trees, To another the desert plain ; To one will Fortune reveal the spring That her wonderful store unlocks ; While another is given the only thing That was left in Pandora's box. Good-luck may lie in an empty purse, A blessing in this disguise, And wealth too often is but a curse To those who have won the prize ; For many with Dives have gone astray, Remorse and regret to meet, While others have found that the common way Led up to the Golden Street. 72 Vagrant Verses. THE CRADLE SONG. WAS a soft, low tune that the mother crooned As she touched the cradle where baby lay, Sleepy and cross, with a fretful toss, At having to pause in liis pretty play. A sweet, low tune, and a soft caress. The loving touch of a mother's hand. Soon quiet the child, from its sports be- guiled, And carry it captive to Slumberland. The restless fingers and feet are still ; The dear little draw -bridges drop ere long O'er the baby's eyes ; and the baby lies In the magic spell of its cradle song. With joy we list to the wondrous notes As the prima donna performs her part With a voice so clear that the birds appear Outdone by one who has learned their art. The Ceadle Song. IS But the Queen of Song, though she sing in truth With seraj^hic splendor, may lack the power To bring repose and relief to those Who fain would rest in the weary hour. And though many a melody be forgot By busy plodders amid life's throng, Yet they always hear, and they hold most dear. The old melodious cradle song. The old, old song, that was half a prayer When the mother murmured it soft and low. Again and again, with its soothing strain, Comes back to whisper of long ago. And around our hearts, and around our lives. These cords are woven so firm and strong, That when death draws near, nothing else we'll hear, But a sweet voice crooning a cradle song. 74 Vagrant Vekses. THE ELDEST SISTER. fHE eldest sister ! — O, how soon The little ones on her depend, If in the o-rantino- of a boon Slie proves herself to be their friend, And in a kind and helpful way Directs their studies and their play. A princess of the realm she stands, Prompt to enforce the queen's commands, And her young subjects honor her, The dignities of rank confer, So that the youthful maid appears Older, far older than her years. Their little quarrels she adjusts ; Their little secrets each intrusts To her ; for she is good and wise, A perfect wonder in their eyes, And often are her praises sung By little folks, their mates among. The eldest sister I — with what grace She slips into the mother's place, When sickness enters on the scene. Or Death dethrones the reigning queen : The Eldest Sister. 75 Thonglitful for those who need her care, She beams an angel, then and there. Unmindful of herself, she gives Her heart's devotion while she lives To those who with their love repay Indebtedness from day to day, And value, far beyond all price, Her elder sisterly advice. O wise is she who keeps her hold Of all the hearts within the fold : A faithful guide, exemplar, friend. Ready to counsel and commend. With love, with dignity and grace, Filling an elder sister's place ! GOD BLESS THE LADS! LITTLE lad I used to meet. Long years ago, upon the sti'eet, Whose pleasant smile and look of truth. The sweet attractiveness of youth, So won my heart that I would watch Among the crowd his nod to catch. ) Vagrant Verses. That was, upon a cloudy day, A bit of sunshine on my way ; And answering back with smile as glad, I said, " God bless the little lad ! " For him I felt an anxious care. In all his interests had a share. And planned what should his future be, As if he had belonged to me. As childless mothers, for the good Of hearts instinct with motherhood. Some little w^aif will kindly take And cherish well for love's dear sake, So I, whose lot in life was sad. Took to my heart this little lad. I knew not who his parents were. Or where he lived; what did I care ? Or if his garments were as fine As I should give a child of mine? My daily thought, my chief concern, Was that he might no evil learn, But strive in manliness to be Foremost, and in integrity To rise by every chance he had To prove himself an honest lad. 'Twas years ago I used to know This little lad and love him so, God Bless the Lads ! 77 And since our parting ne'er I've heard Of him, or had a single word To cheer my thoughts; yet all the while The recollection of his smile, His hearty laugh, his look of truth, The sweet attractiveness of youth. In many an hour have made me glad I ever knew the little lad. I cannot think he went astray, Or wandered in an evil way. But must believe he's neat and trim As when I first encountered him. And when among the news I read Of gallant or heroic deed, I feel that he would do just so — This little lad I used to know — And so I pray, while tear-drops fall, " God bless the lads ! God bless them all ! " THE OLD STYLE AND THE NEW. \T used to be the fashion once, But now it's out of date. For old folks to monopolize The subject of debate. i 78 Vagrant Vekses. The child might listen, if he chose, Andj disciplined while young, He learned his elders to respect, And learned to hold his tongue. At table, father ever sought Discussion to prevent, Lest angry passions be inflamed By heat of argument; And frequently the merry laugh With sharp rebuke was met, Because — I must confess the truth — We were a giggling set ! And there were some rebellious ones Who frowned and made com})laint. Were anxious to divulge their views, And vexed at such restraint; And they declared when they were wed Their children should be free To speak their minds, Avhene'er they chose. With perfect liberty. The newer fashion that prevailed The seed of mischief sowed, And sparks from many anvils flew Old theories to explode; The Old Style and the Kew. And now, to-day, the callow brood Upon the world's gi-eat stage Are cackling all the time, nor pay The least respect to age. It may not need a heavy chain To hold the well-trained beast, But when the links are broken, lo ! The savage is released ! And they who threw the ancient laws And fashions overboard. Would like to have them back again, With all their rights restored. For in those days we did not need, Across the sea to roam. To learn the little courtesies That should be taught at honie; And wisdom by a slower growth To surer beauty grew ; The fear of God was in men's hearts, And infidels were few. Bnt nowadays the juveniles On weighty subjects talk, A skeptic is the little child That scarce has learned to walk ; 80 Vagrant Verses. And thus indulged, and unrestrained, And spoiled by over-praise, What wonder we have drifted toward Irreverential days ! THE FAVORITE CHILD. fj t(^7'HICH one do I love the best ? " fiW you ask ; Ah, that would be hard to tell, For loving, to me, is an easy task. And I may love them all too well ; And though they may not be as comely and fair As many you may have known. Yet the mother's eye sees beauty and grace In each child she can call her own. When Jennie, our first-born, came to crown The morn of our married life, How proud my husband was of his child ! How proud he was of his wife ! Together we watched her cunning ways. And both for her comfort toiled, And made so much of our baby girl, 'Twas a wonder she wasn't spoiled. The Favorite Child. 81 And then came Belle, with her sunny face, And her laughter so light and free ; We thought there had never been before Such a frolicsome sprite as she ; She made no trouble about the house. Was always so gentle and mild. And merry withal, there was good excuse For loving the precious child. I>at there was Anna, so weak and frail. She needed my constant care. And the older children were forced to be Content with a lesser share ; And when to quiet her fretful moods, I held her close to my breast, I fancied I loved her most, because I understood her the best. When later on in my wedded life God gave me my darling boy, I thought that my heart — my mother- heart — Would burst from excess of joy ! For the Father above had heard my prayer. And granted my soul's request ; And my precious treasure ! my only son ! O, surely I loved him best ! 6 82 Vagrant Verses. But other children compelled my care, And he must be set aside ; And O, how he fought for the baby's place, And the comfort to him denied ! Then the trouble came ; and perchance I feel A little more tenderness For the youngest lamb of the flock, because So soon she was fatherless. We make mistakes ; and I may have failed In lessons ] strove to impart ; But I trust that my darlings learned how dear They were to their mother's heart. The loyal soul from its chosen way Not easily is beguiled. And I cannot tell, though I'm often asked, Which is my favorite child. THE FATHER'S ARMS. jHERE goes the baby, creeping Swiftly along the floor. Making a rapid transit Straight for the entry door ; The Father's Akms. 83 Knowing by intuition Exactly the time of day When father, the dear old father ! Will start on the homeward way. Up fi-om their games the children — Robert, Jennie, and Grace — Spring with an eager longing To fly to that fond embrace ; For father must hear the story Of all their deeds and alarms, As closely together they nestle Within his protecting arms. Watching by door and window, At dusk his coming they wait. And whisper to one another, " I wonder what makes him so late ? " Hark ! There's a step ! 'Tis father ! All hushed are their vague alarms, And baby, with crow triumphant. Is first in the father's arms. There's room for all the children. Ay, and the mother beside, For the father-heart is loving, And his arms extended wide : 84 Vagrant Verses. And O ! what strength, and comfort, And joy, and a sense of rest, When we are thus enfolded Close, close to that sturdy breast ! He is a happy father, Who, coming along the street. Is rendy with smiles and kisses His loving (^liildren to greet ; But what a treat he misses Who comes with a scowling face, And iinds no wife nor children Awaiting his cold embrace. Leap to his shoulder, baby ! Crow in excess of bliss ; Welcome the father, children, Always with loving kiss ; Plomes should be full of gladness, Hearts should be full of love. Types of the blest communion Awaiting us all above. Swiftly these scenes are passing, And soon shall the night draw near. When doors and windows darken. And a coming ste}) we hear, The Father's Arms. 85 When a smile the face illummes, And death no longer alarms, For we seek the loving shelter Of a Father's outstretched arras. 9i THE MOTHERLY WAY. AME Durbin was never accounted ^^^ A beauty, not even when young, And yet in the highways and by- ways Her praises have often been sung, For she is a queen among women; And O, she has been in her day A blessing to old folks and young folks. Because of her motherly way. The boys that were sent off to college, That they might in knowledge abound. Were fortunate fellows if ever A home with Dame Durbin they found; She comforted them in their sorrows And trials, however so small. And mothered them so that they really Forgot to be homesick at all. 86 Vagkant Verses. The love that burns strong in her bosom, So brightly illumines her face, That babies will stretch their arms toward her, And nestle within her embrace; While poor little wayfaring creatures, More ready to rule than obey, Will turn from their angry encounters. Subdued by her motherly way, An angel she is in affliction, With power to comfort and bless All those who are sick, or in need of A soft, loving word or caress; And, O, her beneficent spirit Its beauty and graces display In such a bright, bounteous fashion. In such a dear, motherly way. What wonder that hearts shoidd adore her? What wonder her lovers proclaim Her fairest and sweetest of women, With reverence speaking her name ? Ah me ! there's no queen in the kingdom Commanding such marvelous sway As she with the grace and the wisdom To reign in a motherly way ! If I WERE You. 87 IF I WERE YOU. ^^ . ., TTLF I were you, my precious maid, II In youthful, radiant charms arrayed, I would not in each public place, 'Mid brazen crowd display my face, Nor laugh aloud, nor rudely stare, At others on the thoroughfare, Nor flirt as many maidens do. If I were you. If I were you, I would not be On short acquaintance quite so free ; Nor would I rapturously gush O'er things that are not worth a rush. For though my pleasure might be great, I would not be a rattle-pate, But let my words be choice and few. If I were you. If I were you, I would resolve In quiet circles to revolve. Nor spend my days and nights, dear girl, Within the merry, maddening whirl Where giddy Fashion leads the way, And all is dazzle and display. I would not such a life pursue, If I were you. 88 Vagrant Verses. If I were you, my heart I'd hold Above the price of sordid gold ; Nor be in haste with it to part To any one in Cupid's mart. A wise and gracious life I'd lead, The counsels of my elders heed. Beginning now the year is new, If I were you. THE HEART OF A CHILD. QUEER, little, quaint old woman Walked slowly along the street ; Her garments, though old and thread- bare. Were perfectly clean and neat ; And though with a painful effort She moved — then rested a while — Her wrinkled features were often Illumed by a lovely smile. The little children beheld her, And pitied her sluggish pace, But marveled more when they lifted Their eyes to her aged face, The Heart of a Child. 89 And noticed the smile upon it ; For it seemed, in very truth, As if old Time had forgotten The charm of her vanished youth. And always the smile was brighter When little children drew near ; Glowing — lingering — fading, And losing itself in a tear. And one little thoughtful maiden, Not fearing to question why, Said, " Haven't you any children. And is that the reason you cry ? " With a sob in the throat that hindered The answer, the old woman said, In a whisper, " I — had — children Once— but they 're now all dead ! " With quivering lip the maiden Had listened ; her heart beat fast With pity. " Fm awfully sorry ! " She fervently said at last, " And I wish T could let you have, ma'am. One of my brothers here ; But I don't believe I could spare one. For they are so very dear. 90 Vagrant Verses. " God bless you, my child, forever ; God bless you ! " the dame replied ; And hiding her face in her apron. She bitterly sobbed and cried. The dear little maid was troubled, There were tears in her eyes of blue, And she said, after thinking a moment, "I'll tell you what I will do: You may kiss us once if you'd like to. And, if little Ben doesn't mind, You may give him some extra kisses — He's as sweet as sugar, you'll find." Round the neck of the strange old woman Tlieir arms were tenderly thrown. And they gave her as hearty kisses As if she had been their own ; And many a passer wondered At seeing her thus caressed. Despite her shabby old garments, By children so richly dressed. They knew not how little children Are touched at the sight of grief. Nor how, at an angel's whisper, They hasten to give relief ; The Heart of a Child. 91 Nor heard they the poor old woman Exclaim, as she turned away, " Why, I haven't been as light-hearted As this for many a day ! " HER RIGHT-HAND MAN. ir(^THEN only a little toddler, Dan ^^1/!^ Was always his mother's right-hand man ; Rocking the babies, Gus and Fred, Tucking them in the trundle-bed ; Ready to run up stairs or down. Or off on errands without a frown ; Ready to do, like a faithful son, Whatever his mother wanted done. Her liivhtest call he was quick to obey ; Ready to leave his work or his play AVithout a murmur ; and were she ill, He nursed her then with exceeding skill, And dainty dishes for her prepared, And for her comfort tenderly cared. Son and daughter in one was Dan, His mother's blessing, her right-hand man ! 92 Vagrant Verses. At twenty-one he'd a right to plan For a home of his own — this loyal Dan — And choose from among the girls a wife To share the comforts of wedded life, Mother was ailing, and needed more Her son's assistance than ever before, And Dan would his marriage for years defer Ere causing one jealous pang to her. If wishing would bring them, every boy Would be to his mother a source of joy, And never a grief or a pain impart To her affectionate, faithful heart. Angels above our deeds record ; Love brings ever its own reward ; And 'tis never a burden or grief to Dan To serve as his mother's right-hand man. And she ? Why, bless you ! so much of joy And pride she feels in her precious boy, That the sound of his voice will send a flush To her face as bright as a maiden's blush. And O ! 'tis a pretty sight to meet This loving couple upon the street ; And many a maiden smiles at Dan, And envies the mother her right-hand man. Confession. 93 CONFESSION. H, sweet the life I might have spent. In satisfaction and content, In heaven's own peaceful element, With you, my love, with you ! How charmful would have been the days, llow fresh and fragrant all life's ways, When wandering through its tangled maze With you, my love, with you. But when I'm waking, or asleep. Upon the land or on the deep. Blest intercourse I seem to keep With you, my love, with you. T feel your spirit's presence near, To warn, to comfort, and to cheer ; And bright angelic ones appear With you, my love, with you. Some day this loneliness will end ; Death will restore to me my friend ; And all eternity I'll spend With you, my love, with you. 94 Vagrant Vekses. THE LAUGH OF A LITTLE CHILD. Tfi T OW many a heart lias been freed from e^^ care, From sorrowful thoughts beguiled, And turned anew to a gladsome strain, By the laugh of a little child ! As fresh and sweet as the song of birds With a sparkle and burst of cheer. It scatters the spell of loneliness As it falls on the listening ear. It takes us back to our childhood's home. When we were as glad and gay, Unvexed by the trials and toils of life That trouble our hearts to-day ; We look once more on the hmdscnpe fair Where the cheerful sunlight smiled, And the sweetest music about the house Was the laugh of a little child. We may keep the voice that we had in youth, And Time, as he passes by. May touch us lightly, and leave undimmed The luster of beaming eye ; The Laugh of a Little Child. 95 But though our lot has been strangely blest, Though Fortune has kindly smiled, Too soon do we lose the merry heart And the laugh of a little child. When dreams are broken, and fancies spoiled. And the world has ceased to bless, And we seem with a lonely heart to tread The sands of the wilderness. Away from the haunts of grief we're brought, Away from the desert wild. And the fountains of hope are stirred afresh By the laugh of a little child. Then let the little ones laugh aloud, Nor lightly their mirth restrain. For soon, full soon is the music lost That cannot be learned again ; And many a burdened heart has been From sorrowful thoughts beguiled. And the sunshine and peace of home re- stored By the laugh of a little child. 96 Vageant Verses. TWO FRIENDS. Irilo 2TL ^I^^^^ ne'er be content with a A A r^-ii room or two In a modest house," said the liaughty maid, As her airy castle she wandered through. Where the children of fancy 23layed. " I would have a palace, and live in state. With plenty of servants at my command. And only to those who were rich and great. Would I offer a friendly hand. " I must live at ease ; and shall wed, in truth, Despite the many suspicious hints, No love-lorn stripling or simple youtli. But a nabob, if not a prince. For what is the use of power or pride. The shapely form, or the hue of health, If with these gifts we are still denied The sfreater blessinir of wealth ! !=> " You may laugh if you choose, but I've no belief In Love in a cottage, or Love at all ; For the little cherub must come to grief If held in a homely thrall. Two Friends. 97 So I will marry a man of mark, And keep my carriage and live in style, And I'd better quench this presuming spark At whose devotion I smile." "I'd rather have love," said the Saxon maid, "Whose laugh was hearty and full of cheer, " Than all the princes with their parade And ten thousand poun,ds a year ! And whether I'll live in a stately court. Or up in a garret when I am wed, Why, I never give it a single thought ! It never enters my head ! " Time passed ; and the children are matrons HOW, Ami Fortune her wonderful pranks has played Till Hope no longer illumes the brow Or the heart of the haughty maid, Who lives in a very modest way In ft little town ; and her daily life Is a daily torture, I'm free to say, Sinee she is a poor man's wife ! 1 98 Vagrant Verses. While the Saxon maid, in her pride and power, Of noble presence and cheerful mien, With love and fortune alike her dower. Reigns well as a social queen. And the god of mischief who does his part In thus dispensing the ills of fate. Alone can tell how a human heart May grieve o'er its lost estate. MOTHER'S ROOM. THERE isn't another place in the house So full of beauty, so free from gloom^ No other retreat one half so sweet As mother's room ! 'Tis there we gather to tell our wrongs ; 'Tis there we gather to sing our songs ; To seek wise counsel, and oft impart The fears that trouble the tender heart. Why, even the baby, the least of all. The pet of the house, will fret and fume, And its grief display if. kept away From mother's room. Mother's Room. 99 And when the door on its hinges turns, And the face is seen for which baby yearns, The liglit of rapture is in the eyes That seem to look into paradise. Ko delicate draperies rich and fine. No costly fabrics from foreign loom. No ornaments rare are clustered there, In mother's room. But plain and simple, and not profuse. For ease, and comfort, and homely use, Are the treasures found in that blest re- treat. That without the mother were incomplete. O there may be dwellings of quaint device. With lovely gardens and wealth of bloom, That never may own a nook that's known As mother's room ; The shrine at which we have bent the knee In holy and happy idolatry, Wherein the altar of Love imparts Its genial glow to the children's hearts ! A light streams out from that lovely place To brighten life's path, audits depths illume, As we wander back over memory's track To mother's room. 100 Vagrant Veeses. We meet again as we met of yore ; Again we're telling our troubles o'er ; Again we're clasped to the loving breast That always seemed our haven of rest. And when the light from our home is gone, And she is no longer with us to w^hom We owe the bliss that we found in this Dear mother's room, We shall always hold it a sacred place. And always fancy we see her face When we open the door, despite the gloom. And to us it will always be mother'' s room. A MOTHER-BOY. jTiTE was always a gentle and thoughtful 'S3- '^-j' The only son that his parents had. And though both confessed him their pride and joy, He was really and truly his mother's boy. When he came from school, when he came from play, O ! ever so many times a day, He would spring to her lap, and seldom miss A chance to give her a loving kiss. A MOTHEIJ-BOY. 101 She humored and petted the little lad ; A downright scolding he never had ; For him she planned, for him she toiled, And the wonder is that he was not spoiled. The other boys, with their saucy flings About his being " in apron strings," Were rude and coarse, and would oft de- stroy The peace of mind of this mother-boy. The mother-love, like a cable strong. Drew him away from the wicked throng. And made him conscious that near her side Was the sweetest and safest place to abide. The lad grew up so his mother could Lean on him in her widowhood ; And O ! what a comfort it was, and joy. To feel that she had such a mother-boy ! There were other mothers whose hopes were wrecked Because of their children's harsh neglect ; Who were kept in a region forlorn and cold. Because, forsooth ! they were growing old ! 102 Vagrant Verses. But she still reigned in her home, and knew Her children were faithful, fond, and true ; And her staff and solace, when near life's span. Is the mother-boy — now a gray-haired man. LOVE, THE SAILING-MASTER. SHIP went sailing out to sea With all her colors flying ; O! costly was the argosy The winds and waves defying ! And none of those who saw her start But prophesied disaster To the pretty ship, on her trial-trip, With Love as the sailing-master. The port she left seemed fair enough. Nor guessed she what commotion Lay just beyond; the billows rough, The fury of the ocean. Were all unknown, yet still she sped, And nothing fleeter passed her, With sweep and dip, on her trial-trip. With Love as the sailino:-master. Love, the Sailing-Master. 103 Ah ! many a good ship passing by, The pretty craft discerning, Their colors dipped, but came not nigh, Though for her capture yearning ; For by them all she proudly swept. And scorned the lures they cast her ; With gold unbought, with gold uncaught. Where Love was the sailing-master. Then o'er the billows like a bird There came a good ship flying, With sails by favoring breezes stirred, A royal prize descrying ; And e'en when baffling winds did blow. This good ship followed faster The bark that fled so far ahead, With Love as the sailing-master, And when at last on her trial-trip The pretty bark was spoken. Each found in the other a consort-ship. Exchanging the precious token ; And gayly o'er life's sea they go, Prepared to meet disaster. But fearing no wreck, though storms sweep the deck. With Love as the sailing-master ! 104 Vagrant Yekses. WOUNDED. ^S^IS easier to bear ^ ^ The heaviest weight of care, The shock of battle, and the prisoner's fare, Than to endure the pain Of bitter words, that gain An entrance to the heart, and there remain. 'Tis such an easy thing, A cruel taunt to fling. We often smile when others feel the sting ; But how the blood is stirred By an ungracious word From one above all other friends preferred ! The castle may not fall, Nor enemies appal, If there are loyal watchmen on the wall ; But ope the doors to sin. And troubles soon begin, A single traitor letting thousands in. 'Tis easier to heal The suffering we feel From bullet wound, or thrust of glittering steel. Wounded. 105 Than to remove the dart, The agonizing smart, An unkind word may give a loving heart. 'Tis easier to die, And bid the world good-bye, When youth, and health, and happiness beat high, Than to live on, and brood In weary solitude, Misrepresented and misunderstood . SHE AND I. [\^J'E. had a little quarrel She and I ; We thought to mend our quarrel By and by ; But we made such long delay The forgiving word to say, That we drifted far away. She and I. We had been friends together, She and I, Through clear and cloudy weather. She and I ; 106 Vagrant Verses. Our friendsliip we'd declared, Our cares and comforts shared, And most pleasantly had fared, She and I. No evil genius dreading, She and I Spoke freely of our wedding By and by ; And talked, as lovers do, Of a cozy nest for two ; Such a home we had in view, She and I. We met, and were light-hearted. She and I ; But sorrowfully parted. She and 1 ; And though bitter the regret At the broken amulet. We have never spoken yet. She or I. They say I'm rather mulish ; That may be ; And I was young and foolish — So was she ; Sue and I. 107 'Twas a quarrel most absurd, And I can't recall a word, And just how the breach occurred Puzzles me. "We had a foolish quarrel, She and I, That furnishes a moral — Who'll deny ? So if any one offends Let him haste to make amends ; If he waits he'll have no friends By and by. BACK TO HIS MOTHER. fHE stood at the gate with an anxious face, A mother with soul distressed ; And they held her back with the eager crowd That close to the barriers pressed. " You cannot pass ! " said the warder grim, " Your efforts are all in vain ; My orders are to let no one in But those who would take the train ! " 108 Vagrant Veeses. There were husbands waiting their wives' return, There were brothers and lovers, too, Impatiently wandering up and down, For the train was; long overdue. There were fair young maidens in merry mood. And none were so sore distressed As she who stood at the barricade With her hands clasped tight o'er her breast. " I tell you, madam, you cannot pass ! " Said the warder beside the gate ; "Nor can you hurry the train along, So you'd better sit down and wait ! " A shade passed over the aged face That wore not a gleam of joy, As she said, in a low and tremulous voice, " I'm here, sir, to meet my boy ! " "To meet your boy? Then why, should you make. Good woman, this strange ado ? Sit patiently there in the waiting-room. And your boy will soon come to you ! " Back to His Mother. 109 " Would God that he could ! " the mother exclaimed, With eyes from which hope had fled ; " He'd come to me surely with eager feet, But alas, sir, my boy is dead ! " " Dead ! " said the warder, and turned the key In the bolt with no more delay, For before the grief of a loving heart The locks and the law gave way ; And the train, like a monster all out of breath, Crawled under the ample shed, And the crowd passed out through the gates, and left The mother alone with her dead ! THE LESSONS OF THE STREET. N the corners we may find them, Or in clusters here and there : In the day-time or the night-time, All along the thoroughfare ; Standing idly and forgetting They should earn the bread they eat, Are the many who are learning All the lessons of the street. 110 Vagkant Yeeses. In their homes is naught inviting ; Poverty and vs^ant are there ; Wasteful demons — thirsting ever — Serve to keep the cupboard bare ; And the little babies wander Out of doors, on toddling feet, Quick to learn the lessons taught them Every hour upon the street. Shame and Crime their ready pupils Here, of every age, may find ; Sons of wealth and rank, to Evil And to Idleness inclined ; In the school of Vice progressing, They with base-born rogues compete, Who have won a high distinction From their training in the street. Maidens fresh in youthful beauty, Cherished in the heart and home ; Dearly loved ones — vain and thought less — From the fireside choose to roam ; Knowing not the many dangers And disasters they may meet, By their everyday attendance On the lessons of the street. The Lessons of the Street. Ill Many a life that started bravely. Full of promise, pride, and zeal — Stirred within by holy passions That the knavish never feel — Has been overthrown in battle : Led to sure and swift defeat By the poison and pollution Of the lessons of the street. O ye mothers ! train your darlings So to love their homes, that they With the idle and the vicious Will not ever go astray. With a chain of strong affection Bind them to tliis safe retreat, That their minds may not be tainted By the lessons of the street. THROUGH AND THROUGH. LITTLE thought and a little care, A little tenderness now and then, A gracious speech and a courtly air May give one rank among gentlemen ; 112 Vagrant Verses. But he who merits the highest place, Though clad in homespun he be, 'tis true, Is one who carries a heart of grace. And is really a nobleman through and through. Ah, not to a leaflet here and there Is the lovely scent of the rose conveyed ; Nor is there a corner within it, where The fragrance lurks, and the treasure's laid; But every petal is truly filled — Pink or crimson, or saffron hue — With odors rich, by the dews distilled ; And the rose is a sweet rose through and through. And yonder billow with foaming crest. So bright and sparkling, so glad and free, May seem of a lighter make than the rest Of the mighty sweep of the solemn sea ; But there's not a drop in the crucible, Never a drop since the world was new, That wouldn't the self-same story tell. That the sea is a salt sea through and through. Through and Through. 113 The tree is stunted, the vine is spoiled, There's neither blossom, nor leaf, nor fruit, When the sap in its upward reach is foiled, And fettered close in the tangled root. And there's nothing sound, and there's noth- ing strong. There's nothing good, and there's nothing t^ue. That is not honestly — right along — Sweet and savory through and through. Faithfully faithful to every trust ; Honestly honest in every deed; Righteously righteous, and justly just. This is the whole of the good man's creed. AT THE CLOSE OF DAY. I HE old man sat in the chimney nook. With the Bible upon his knee, And his eyes had a far-away, happy look. For he saw what we could not see. And he spoke in a gentle, caressing tone To those he had loved and had called his 'Qwn : 8 114 Vageant Verses. " Yes, Mary, the baby is wondrous fair. With its eyes of violet blue. And it has your forehead and golden hair ; I am glad it looks like you ; For a sweeter woman there ne'er could be Than the one who cast her lot with me ! " Dead ! There are tears on the coffin-lid, But, my dear, we must not weep, For the ways of God from our sight are hid. Our little one is asleep ; The song and the sunsliine with her are fled. But our hearts assure us she is not dead. " And the boys, dear Mary, how fast they grew To be bearded and brilliant men ! Even poor little Johnny ! — we never knew That he held a magic pen. But I'm sure he will never write, nor speak, A word that would crimson a maiden's cheek. " They're boys to be proud of, I tell you, wife. And better could not be had. For they were not given to foolish strife. And not one went to the bad. And amid their manhood's trials and cares. They'll always remember their mother's prayers. At the Close of Day. 115 " We used to sit in the fading light, Under the maple-tree, And talk together ; 'tis almost night, Come, Mary, and sit by me. That's right ; and the children ? are they all here ? I have been so lonely without you, dear ! " The old man sat in the chimney nook, With the Bible upon his knee. And his eyes had a far-away, happy look, For he saw what we could not see. And with his beloved ones, a spirit-band. He had entered into the Morning Land. A PLEASANT JOURNEY. "wXn OTL HAVE had such a pleasant iour- Said grandmother, as she lay On her couch by the open window At the close of a summer day, When the twilight was melting slowly Away to the night's embrace, And a glow of celestial beauty Lay soft on the dear old face. 116 Vagrant Veeses. "I have had such a pleasant journey ! " She whispered again, so low That we knew she was busy thinking Of days that were long ago ; Though worn were the aged fingers, And weary the pilgiim feet. The way must have had some gladness Since the memory was so sweet. Though none of her loved comp;inions, The friends of her early prime, Wei'e near with their recollections And tokens of olden time ; Though the graves of her hopes and kindred Were dotted along the past, " It has been such a pleasant journey," She whispered, " from first to last ! " Never a word of the briers By which her feet had been torn ; Never a word of the burdens And trials that she had borne ; And never, through all the journey, Had any one coming nigh her Detected the smell on her garments That told of the furnace lire ! A Pleasant Journey. 11 V For the Lord had been ever with her, And given her so much grace, That the sorrows her heart had suffered Had left on her brow no trace, Except the calm, peaceful shining His favor alone can impart, And that rests like a benediction On those Avho are pure in heart. And those who had heard the story Of her sad and eventful life, Of the trouble that early found her, Of the wearisome toil and strife, Were lost in a dream of wonder That she could so sweetly say, " I have had such a pleasant journey ! " At the closing hour of the day. It is not by years, though threescore And ten o'er our heads have rolled, It is not on earthly records The measure of life is told ; But they have lived best and noblest. Who, gentle and loving and brave. Have made it a pleasant journey From the cradle unto the grave. ^ 118 Vagrant Verses. THE LONELY MOTHER. FOR a chance to rest, O, for the blissful quiet, Away from the children's noise, Away from their romp and riot ! " The mother said, with a sigh. And the look as of one distracted By the tumult she could not quell, And the duties of her exacted. From morning till late at night Day in and day out she has, may be, To scold at a fractious boy, Or comfort a restless baby. Tom was naughty and wild. And constantly needed chiding, Kate was a saucy child, In need of a mother's guiding ; Sly as a fox was Ben, And full of his tricks was Jerry ; And a topsy-turvy house It was when they all made merry. Never a chance to rest ! Never a bit of quiet ! No wonder the mother dear Was almost distracted by it ! The Lonely Mother. 119 But not too long at her side The troublesome comforts tarried ; Tom had a taste for the sea ; Katy was young when she married ; Ben crossed the continent To add to his store of knowledge ; And Jerry went off to learn More pranks at a certain college. And all alone by herself, With longings she cannot smother, Beside her desolate hearth Sits the lonely and sad-faced mother ; With no little children near To keep up a merry riot ; Ah ! now that she has her wish. The house is by far too quiet. CROSSING THE FERRY. ^HE boat was not in, and the ci-owd kept increasing, The tide flowing in through the gate without ceasing; The young and the aged, the sad and the merry, Were there for the purpose of crossing the ferry. 120 Vageant Veeses. The man at the wheel like a sentinel waited ; 'Twas little he cared that the boat was be- lated ; But O! in the crowd were impatient ones, very, Much vexed at detentions in crossing the ferry. There were mothers whose little ones surely would worry ; There were lawyers and doctors in des- perate hurry ; Mechanics and porters with goods to de- liver In haste on the opposite side of the river. The rich and the poor were all huddled together, Some talking of fashions, and some 0f the weather. While anxiously waiting the long-delayed wherry They found so convenient for crossing the ferry. There were lovers, with flowers and flattery laden ; There was many a beautiful, dutiful maiden ; Crossing the Feruy. 121 And with innocent laughter and mirth they made merry, Beguiling the time spent in crossing the ferry. There were others who stood quite apart in their sadness From those who were sparkling with youth and with gladness, Their loved and their lost they were going to bury In Greenwood ; for this were they crossing the ferry. Ah, hither and thither we toil and we travel, In striving Life's tangled-up skeins to un- ravel ; And whether we grieve all the day or make merry, We all have our purpose in crossing the ferry. 122 Vagrant Verses. AT THE PAWN-SHOP DOOR. TTN the winter morning early, when only a IL. few were astir, And the sh utters were np at the windows, and the snow lay white in the streets, As the wheels of travel and traffic were be- ginning to whizz and whirr, And the sunshine drove the shadows like ghosts from their dark retreats. From out the tenement houses, from cellars so cold and damp. That the humid blossoms of death gleam whitely on wall and floor. The watchful sentinels stole away from the waking camp. And, shivering with cold and hunger, ap- peared at the pawn-shop door. There was one in her widow's weeds who had striven from day to day To keep her children in comfort, with plenty of food to eat, But the rent would be due to-morrow, she'd not the money to pay, And O, the disgrace and horror of being turned into the street ! At the Pawn-Shop Door. 123 She looked about her in anguish for some- thing that she could spare From her tenderly hoarded treasure — a scanty yet precious store — And bearing away the jewel that proudly she used to wear, In the dusk of a winter morning she stood at the pawn-shop door. There were others who gathered round her whose faces too well betrayed The shrine at which they worshiped, the vice that had bitten in Through the fiber of all their being, till un- blushingly they displayed The tokens of their enslavement, the taints and traces of sin. They are regular comers, by the demon of drink accursed, The lazy and tattered " bummers," albeit of bi-eadth and brawn, Who are di'iven at early morning by the scourge of a terrible thirst — Ah ! little have they to hope for whose souls are already in pawn ! 124 Vageant Verses. But there outside of the group, with fingers? aching and red, A little boy with a bundle slips into a vacant place ; There are no shoes on his feet, not much of a cap on his head, And the great big tears run over the shrunken and care-worn face. He is hungry and cold and wretched ; there is no fire on the hearth, Not a bit of bread in the cujiboard, nor even a scrap of meat ; And the little brothers and sisters are stran- gers to joy and mirth, When they're pinched by the cold of win- ter, and haven't enough to eat. Ah ! sad enough is the picture, and little we dream or know Of the terrible storms encountered, the anguish and sore distress Of many we daily meet in our journeying to and fro, Whom we never have thought to pity, and never have cared to bless. At the Pawn-Shop Door. 125 And driven before the wind of a merciless cruel fate, Like vessels shorn of their sails and urged to a rocky shore. Bereft of their early hopes, and swept from their high estate, Pitiful wrecks ! they're stranded close to the pawn-shop door. HAVE FAITH IN THE BOY. iffiTAVE faith in the boy, not believing AL JL That he is the worst of his kind, In league with the army of Satan, And only to evil inclined ; But daily to guide and control him. Your wisdom and patience employ, And daily, despite disappointment And sorrow, have faith in the boy. Have faith to believe that some moment In life's strangely checkered career. Convicted, subdued, and repentant. The prodigal son will appear ; The gold in his nature rejecting The dark and debasing alloy, Illuming your spirit with gladness Because you had faith in the boy. 126 Vagrant Verses. Though now he is wayward and stubborn, And keeps himself sadly aloof From those who are anxious and fearful, And ready with words of reproof — Have faith that the prayers of a mother His wandering feet will arrest, And turn him away from his follies To weep out his tears on her breast. The brook that goes dashing and dancing. We may not divert from its course Until the wild turbulent spirit Has somewhat expended its force ; The brook is the life of the river ; And if we the future might scan. We'd find that a boisterous boyhood Gave vigor and life to the man. Ah, many a boy has been driven Away from his home by the thought That no one believed in his goodness, Nor dreamed of the battles he fought. So if you would help him to conquer The foes that are prone to annoy, Encourage him often with kindness. And show you have faith in tlie boy. Have Faith in the Boy. 127 Have faith in his good resolutions, Believe that at last he'll prevail, Though now he's forgetful and heedless. Though day after day he may fail. Your doubts and suspicious misgivings His hope and his courage destroy, So if you'd secure a brave manhood 'Tis well to have faith in the boy. WHEN DAVE COMES IN. t HOUGH at its height the fun may be, And every one intent To do his best to keep along The flow of merriment, At once the tide of glee will fall, Hushed is the merry din, And gloomy silence steals o'er all When Dave comes in. For Dave is such a solemn chap, He does not hke a noise. Nor does he like the madcap ways Of healthy girls and boys ; And so we wait till he goes out, And then we all begin To race and romp, and laugh and shout, Till Dave comes in. 128 Vagrant Verses. I only hope he'll fall in love Some day with soQie sweet maid, Who of his military ways Will never be afraid ; A little woman, glad and bright, To wit and mirth akin, Whose face will sparkle with delight When Dave comes in. And then, O may I live to see The day ! I hope there'll be A lot of children in the house Brimful of boisterous glee ; Who oft in chorus w^ill unite, A gay, good-humored din, And crow and caper with delight When Dave comes in. Then Dave will be a happier man By far than he is now ; And smiles will chase away these frowns And furrows from his brow. Love, haste the day ! and bring about The change ; for 'tis a sin That so much sunshine should go out When Dave comes in. The Best Ship Afloat. 129 THE BEST SHIP AFLOAT. r-jr F all the ships afloat On Atlantic or Pacific, Or far within the tropics On the Indian Ocean's breast, With white sails all a-glearaing. With brilliant colors streaming, There's no ship Like Friendship, The stanchest and tlie best ! When tempests hover nigh, And the sea is lashed to fury, When loudly roar the breakers, And above the sea-gulls swarm; When skies are overclouded, Aud sunshine is enshrouded, There's no ship Like Friendship To battle with the storm ! A welcome sight is she. Wherever we may meet her, With canvas spread out finely. With pennon bright and blue ; 9 130 V AGE ANT YeESES. To none she is a stranger, And in the hour of danger There's no ship Like Friendship To lead us safely through ! From port to port she sails, The bearer of dispatches From Love, the mighty monarch. Her outfit all complete ; And though little skiff or clipper May in a race outstrip her, There's no ship Like Friendship In all the royal fleet ! Of all the ships afloat On Atlantic or Pacific, Or far within the tropics On the Indian Ocean's breast, With white sails all a-gleaming. With brilliant colors streaming. There's no ship Like Friendship, The stanchest, and the best ! I The Hardest Task. 131 THE HARDEST TASK. 'j hRIS bard to labor from morn till night, To plow the furrow and pluck the weeds, For those who poorly the task requite, And care but little for all our needs ; But the hardest work is to get along With those who never do any thing wrong. You're sure to meet in the course of life With men and women who freely state Their own opinions, with yours at strife, And you may endeavor to set them straight ; But you'll find it wiser to jog along Than argue with those who never do wrong. They go their way, with a smile, no doubt. At us who suffer such pains and aches And mental torture, at finding out That we've committed some grave mis- takes ; With pride unbroken, erect, and strong. Are those who never do any thing wrong. 132 Vagrant Verses. You may note their faults, and attempt to prove Wherein they err, but as well essay With a cambric needle the rock to move That fills the passage, and blocks your way ; You may talk by the hour with tears in your eyes, But they'll never confess nor apologize. They never come with a tearful face, And tender kisses, to make amends For wounds inflicted ; or say with grace, " I'm sorry ! forgive me, and let's be friends ! " But stern and unyielding they move along Convinced they have never done any tiling- wrong. This is a work-a-day world we're in, And toils and troubles their round repeat ; But out of the tangles some gold we spin ; And out of the bitter extract some sweet ; But the hardest work is to get along With those who never do any thing wrong ! The Wheel Goes Round. 133 THE WHEEL GOES ROUND. THOUGH daily we may plan and jjlot, [K Each day we're sure to find, To our distress, that things are not Exactly to our mind ; And useless 'tis to grieve and fret, Or meet our fate with frowns, For life was never perfect yet Without its ups and downs. The wheel goes round and round ; The wheel goes round and round ; And those who now are at the top Will soon be on the ground; And those who at the bottom lie Will then be at the top ; For so the wheel goes round and round, And round, and will not stop. To-day my neighbor soareth high On fortune's favoring breeze ; His wants abundant streams supply, His life is one of ease ; His cup of pleasure and delight Seems sparkling to the brim ; The sun is on his path so bright That many envy him. 134 Vagrant Verses. And yet the wheel goes round ; The wheel goes round and round ; And those who now are at ihe top Will soon be on the ground ; And those who at the bottom lie Will then be on the top ; For so the wheel goes round and round, And round, and will not stop. Some labor hard from day to day To till the stubborn soil, While some from morn till evening gray Reap rich reward for toil ; And those who in their early youth Escape much grief and care, May, when old age creeps on in truth. Life's heaviest burdens bear. The wheel goes round and round ; The wheel goes round and round; And those who now are at the top Will soon be on the ground ; And those who at the bottom lie Will then be at the top; For so the wheel goes round and round, And round, and will not stop. A Corner for You. 135 A CORNER FOR YOU. (>ii T is not a sumptuous dwelling, W With plenty of room and to spare, With pictures and draperies telling That wealth is a resident there ; But only a small habitation; We're crowded for room, it is true. But come, dear, without hesitation, There's always a corner for you ! More ample are Geraldine's quarters. With furnishings costly and rare, And only one son and two daughters Her generous income to share ; Her rooms are more spacious than many ; Her household in numbers but few. And yet you will find there's not any Snug corner for me or for you. 'Tis not with the proud and the wealthy Hospitable feelings are found ; More oft 'mid the poor will a healthy Good-fellowship seem to abound ; No matter how meager their table ; No matter how scanty their store. Somehow they are cheerfully able To crowd and make room for one more. 136 Vagrant Verses. It matters not whether in ermine Or sackcloth the host may be drest, The size of his heart will determine The welcome he gives to a guest ; And though I may live in a shanty, As many unfortunates do — Though porridge and pasture be scanty There's always a corner for you ! Where many are narrow and sordid, What joy the frank-hearted do find ! What comfort and cheer are afforded By those to affection inclined ! Where love has a steadfast endurance, Is honestly faithful and true, The heart gives repeated assurance It has a warm corner for you ! THE PRICE OF A DRINK. In In 'jE^I^E cents a glass ! " Does any i X W^ one think That that is really the price of a drink ? " Five cents a glass ! " I hear you say ; " Why, that isn't very much to pay." The Price of a Drixk. 137 Ah, no, indeed ; 'tis a very small sum You are passing over 'twixt finger and thumb; And if that were all that you gave away, It wouldn't be very much to pay. The price of a drink ? Let him decide Who has lost his courage and lost his pride, And lies a groveling heap of clay, Not far removed from a beast to-day. The price of a diink ? Let that one tell Who sleeps to-night in a murderer's cell, And feels within him the fires of hell. Honor and virtue, love and truth, All the glory and pride of youth, Hopes of manhood, the wreath of fame. High endeavor and noble aim — These are the treasures thrown away As the price of a drink, from day to day. *' Five cents a glass ! " How Satan laughed, As over the bar the young man quaffeil The beaded liquor ; for the demon knew The terrible work that drink would do ; And before the morning the victim lay With his life-blood swiftly ebbing away ; And that was the price he paid, alas ! For the pleasure of taking a social glass. 138 Vagrant Verses. The price of a drink ! If you want to know What some are willing to pay for it, go Through that wretched tenement over there, With dingy windows and broken stair, Where foul disease, like a vampire, crawls With outstretched wings o'er the moldy walls. There Poverty dwells, with her hungry brood. Wild- eyed as demons for lack of food ; There Shame in a corner crouches low ; There violence deals its cruel blow ; And innocent ones are thus accursed To pay the price of another's thirst. " Five cents a glass ! " O, if that were all. The sacrifice would indeed be small ! But the money's worth is the least amount We pay ; and whoever will keep account, Will learn the terrible waste and blight That follow this ruinous appetite. "Five cents a glass!" Does any one think That that is really the price of a drink ? Some People We Know. 139 SOME PEOPLE WE KNOW. y^b OME people we know — and they're nice ^^^ people, too — Are so very precise in whatever they do, As straight as a rule, And so calm, and so cool, We feel in their presence as if we're at school. They are very strait-laced, have a calling to preach ; And as they are not very fluent in speech Much Scripture they quote — They have learned it by rote — And fancy an excellent cause they pro- mote. If they send us a letter, they'll wait per- haps years, Nor write us again till our answer appears ; And manage to let Us never forget That w^e have neglected to cancel our debt. 140 Vagkant Veeses. They're so very formal, and make such a fuss Whenever they happen to call upon us, Are so ill at ease. We are ready to freeze In the atmosphere made by such people as these. If we do them a favor, or send them a gift, The obligation at once they will shift, By sending us more Than we sent from our store ; O, they're very punctilious indeed on that score ! *' An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," Is the maxim these good people live by, for- sooth ; A good rule, in fact, When a little bit slacked. For life is not sweet where the law's too exact. The people we love, and with whom we're at ease. Are cheerful, and .kindly, and not hard to please ; While others, austere, Can never get near Our hearts, though we meet them each day in the year. Say That You 'he Sobky. 141 SAY THAT YOU'RE SORRY. WEE little child was in trouble and pain ; The tears down its cheeks running swiftly as rain ; When one came along who exclaimed, with a shout, " Why, what in the world are you crying about ? " Cut your finger ? Dear me, that is noth- ing at all ; You ought not to weep o'er a trial so small ; Be a man ; and whatever may happen amiss, O, never again be a baby like this." The appeal was in vain ; for the mourner bowed low, And still the big tear-drops continued to flow; And the little frame shook in a tempest of grief, For words such as these brought no sooth- ing relief. 142 Vagkant Verses. " Now what can I do for you ? What can I say ? " Asked the elder, amazed at this childish display. " You hear me ? This minute get up from the floor ; You'll make yourself sick if you cry any more." The little one, lifting a woe-begone face On which the hot tears had left many a trace, With a sigh and a struggle for speech mur- mured he : "I think you might say you are sorry for me." A trial it is for the baby to miss The pitying word and the comforting kiss ; And, O, for the tears that rain over the face There's no balm so sure as a loving embrace. The sorrows of childhood are grievous to bear Without our fond pity, our comforting care, And when the hurts come, and the way's rather rough. We can say we are sorry — and that is enough. The Girls we Used to Know. 143 THE GIRLS WE USED TO KNOW. ^•VJ^T'HERE are the girls we used to know In the halcyon days of long ago ? The merry maids — the dancing elves — As happy as we were ourselves ? We miss their voices from the song ; We miss their faces from the throno:; We miss the sweetness and delight That used to make the world so bright. They took their part with pretty zest In song, or dance, or play, or jest ; And memory's waking touch can all Their faces and their ways recall. These damsels bright and debonaire, We meet upon each thoroughfare, Are more for fashion and for show Than were the girls we used to know. Yon matron, with the wrinkled face And withered form, devoid of grace. It cannot be that she is Sue, The merriest one of all the crew ! 144 Vagrant Verses. And this one, dignified and stout, Living in affluence, no doubt, By not a single look betrays The Emily of former days. Margaret, Maria, Helen, Kate, And Jane Augusta, so sedate, Chloe and Sallie — all are changed; All, all are more or less estranged. And, as with heavy, aching hearts We vainly seek their counterparts, We sigh and wonder, as we go. Where are the girls we used to know ! But, gazing in the looking-glass. We see that we ourselves, alas ! Are greatly changed ; nor bear, in truth. The least resemblance to our youth. Our once brown locks are touched with gray, The rounded cheek has shrunk away. And there are other signs we wear To mark the touch of Time and Care. Still young at heart, our hearts rebel At what the years and dates may tell, And in sweet visions wander back Along the well-remembered track, The Girls we Used to Know. 145 And cheat ourselves in the belief Thai none have ever come to grief, But boys and girls walk hand in hand As if in an enchanted land. Yet should we meet when in life's prime Some playmate of the olden time, What bitter memories would destroy The sweetness of our cup of joy ! And since to-morrow never gives True copies of those negatives We took in youth, we dream, and lo ! We're with the girls we used to know ! A WORRYING WOMAN. WORRYING woman will always, no doubt. Find something or other to worry about ; She worries at this, and she worries at that. And nobody knows what she's worrying at. If she sees a small cloud she will worry for fear A terrible cyclone is hovering near ; If she hears any noise in the night she's in dread, And fancies a burglar is under her bed. 10 146 Vagrant Verses. If the children are out she is on the alert To worry because they may chance to get hurt ; And if they're at home, and unusually still, She's sure to imagine they're dreadfully ill. If a window is open sli^'ll worry and scold Because she's in danger of getting a cold ; If the windows are closed then she can't get her breath. And worries for fear she'll be stifled to death. If she travels by boat she imagines the worst That can happen — is certain the boiler will burst ; And if by the cars she decides to come back, She is sure that the engine will run off the track. If there's work to be done she's in a great stew, For fear that the workmen will never get through ; And when they have finished and gone out of sight, She worries for fear they've not done the work right. A Worrying Woman. 147 If she goes out to shop, she is worried for fear The goods she buys cheap will turn out to be dear ; And if little or much of her money is spent, She is never happy, and never content. She worries if she remains single too long; And if she is married she thinks she did wrong ; She worries if she is not treated just right ; And in this way she worries from morning till night. A worrying woman you never can please ; She's always unhappy, and never at ease; And with nothing to vex her, she'll woi-ry, no doubt. Because she has nothing to worry about ! "TOO DEEP FOR THAT." ES," said Farmer Brown, Bringing his hard fist down On the old oak table ; " They say that men can talk From Paris to New York, Througli a sunken cable ! 148 Vagrant Verses. *' 'Tis perfectly absurd ; For to hear a siriorle word No man is able ; And it's clear enough to me That this Avide-spread mystery- Is a foolish fable. " The news we get from Rome Is all mnde up at home, 'Tis my conviction ; And that, you see, will account For the terrible amount Of contradiction. " Yes," said Farmer Brown, Bringing his hard fist down On the old oak table; " My wife and I have tried The experiment ; we tied A good stout bit of cable " To the fence just over there. And the rocker of this chair ; And we couldn't do it. Though we screamed ourselves as hoarse As tree-toads ; but, of course, Not one word went through it ! *'Too Deep for That." " Don't talk to me, I pray, Of fresh news every day Through sunken cables ; Sea-yarns are always tough, And I have heard enough Of such old fables ! " 149 THE LAW AND THE LADY. H ! " cried the judge, a smile upon his face, As he reviewed the features of the case, In which the magistrate judicial saw Something to brighten up the court of law. " A lady is the plaintiff! I'll eng.'^e Tliat she shall make confession of her aire ! " By every art known to forensic lore He plied his questions, cross-examined, swore (Below his breath, of course); but all un- moved She parried every thrust, and fully proved. By many a covert scratch with sharpened claw, The lady had some knowledge of the law. 150 Vagrant Verses. At last the judge, quite well assured that he Had met his match in wordy strategy, Yet curious to know — what men hold cheap — The only secret women ever keep. Exclaimed, " Now, madam, date of birth report. Or I'll commit you for contempt of court !" The lady looked upon the judge and smiled As gracefully and sweetly as a child. And with ablush ingenuous answered, "Sir, Not on ray own account do I demur ; But then you see, your honor, I'm a twin, To tell my sister's age would be a sin ! " The judge with stare of blank amazement, saw She did not fear the " terrors of the law," And doubtless had ere this from Scripture page Erased the mournful record of her a