'M0M'^ y-k.±M^--i RHYMES OF YANKEE LAND AELLA GREENE. ^0 EIGHTH EDITION. 4> 1879. ^y BOSTON: LEE & SIIEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 1879. ^ a^n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by AELLA GREENE, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington THE CLARK W. BKVAN COMPANY, ELECTROTVPERS, PXINTRRS AND BINDERS, SPRINGFIEMl, MASS. TX) MY NEW ENGLAND FRIENDS, AT HOME AND WESTWARD, I- Dedicate THESE "rhymes of YANKEE LAND." CONTENTS. THE SMITHVILLE WORTHIES: Squire Smith, . Doctor Bliss, . The Village School-master, Crispin Crane, . JlR. JoxES, the Smith, . AniJAH Beers, . LIGHT FROM DARK: Into the Sunshine, Rest in Work, "Yea, Welcome Grief," "How Blessed and True the Belief," "The Sugar Camp in early Spring," MISCELLANEOUS: Mv Comrade's Grave, . A Tribute, The Sweetheart, . A Model Sunday-School, . When You and I Weue Boys, The Yankee Westward, "Two Decades Bright," Chicago's Trial by Fire, . " The Paper," . . * . Be Cheerful Ever, In All Labor there is Profit, An Acknowledgment, . "She Placed the Bitter Sweet," Williamsburg, . "Fence up the Way," . A Word of Cheer, . They Meet Again, . 9 17 21 25 S8 41 45 47 50 53 56 61 62 64 66 68 73 77 79 82 84 86 89 91 94 102 105 106 VI CONTENTS. "Nay, 'TIS Not Thus," *09 The Brighter Days, 1^^ " If Every One Observed," 1'3 "And Numbered Forty-Six," 115 Our Yankee Land, 120 Thine, 1^4 "Among the Lisbon Hills," 126 "Concerning One You Love," . 128 "Of Thee and Thine," 130 " No Other," 1^2 " For Thee a Song," 133 On Canterbury Green, 135 "Too Many Hearts ARE Sad To-night," 138 " Our Northern Route," l**^ BARNES VILLE: Elnathan Barnes, 1^3 The Sunday Teacher, 156 John Carlton 158 Thu Journalist 162 The Wicked 165 SATIRES : The Critics 1C9 The Allopaths, 171 My litany, 173 The Dead Dougherty, 175 The Imperial 177 A PLEASANT GUOUP: "Come Happy Bird," 181 For Words Select, 183 The Bright and Wise, 184 "Serenest Star," 187 " Where Flowers Bloom," 189 "The Stars Have Hkard," 190 MISCELLANEOUS : Grand Old Greenfield, 193 "Earth's Brightest Star," 196 A Silver Day 199 "The Bay State's Forty-Second," 201 BEKKstTiRE Scenes, 204 A Golden Day 206 THE SMITHVILLE WORTHIES. SQUIRE SMITH. /^LD Mister Smith of Smithville died Two weeks ago to-day ; We always thought the person Hed Who said he'd pass away. With buoyant step, and fragrant breath. And face with health aglow, He seemed no older near his death Than twenty years ago. But gone he has, at last, from earth. As every mortal must, Of noble or of lowly birth. Unrighteous they, or just. 10 SQUIRE SMITH. Though it may seem as useless quite, To weep and make ado, Still, I have thought it well to write Of him a rhyme or two. Possessing not a noted name, Nor piles of treasure high, He yet enjoyed of pelf and fame A moderate supply. For comely speech, and good intent, And for his neat attire, The villagers with one consent. Regarded him as "Square." Attending church on Sabbath days, As everybody should, SQUIRE SMITH. H He joined in all the prayer and praise. As pious people would. Within the week he walked in town, On pleasant afternoons, Wearing a modest suit of brown, And humming quiet tunes. He kept his temper all the while, In weather dry or wet ; And had a penny, or a smile, For every child he met. Of joy his heart the source and spring, To him no dark nor wrong ; He seemed from bitterest grief to bring The melody of song. 12 SQUIRE SMITH. At inns he never lingered much, For beer and greater grog ; When coming home from clubs and such, Was never in a fog. The Squire no stated calling had, A "jack at every trade;" At neither one was reckoned bad. But quite a figure made. Three years a farmer's life he led ; There seemed to him a charm, To gain his raiment and his bread, By managing a farm. For several years he kept a school, In an adjoining place ; SQUIRE SMITH. I^ Maintaining there a pleasant rule, With dignity and grace. He also wrote a little book About his native town, That had a literary look, — Done up in covers brown. To Washington he never went. As statesman had no forte ; Yet twice had been as juror sent. And once to General Court ! He did not take to allopaths, As would some other men, But patronized cold water baths, And sometimes took cayenne. 14 SQUIRE SMITH. He spurned a miser as a thief, And acted, "on the square;" Though not a Mason, my belief Is Smith had once been there. He kept his courage always up, And kept his record clear; Kept only water in his cup, And kept his wife so dear. He kept of Sabbaths fifty-two ; Kept everything of worth; Kept more than most of people do. And always kept "the Fourth." He kept his course with ease and grit ; Kept all he thought or heard. SQUIRE SMITH. I5 That was for keeping really fit ; And always kept his word. Smith led a quiet, even life, And died when near fourscore, Leaving to mourn him his good wife. And grown up children four. And on that saddest funeral day. There gathered at his bier, A thousand friends, as true and tried. As ever shed a tear. Within the churchyard, 'neath a yew, They made his grave with care ; And lingeringly they bade adieu. With sorrow, and with prayer. l6 SQUIRE SMITH. Ye better bards, to whom belong High themes and lofty verse, Still deem as not unworthy song, The life these lines rehearse. Although a humble man was he. Our Smith was still a man ; As good on earth we seldom see. And better, never can. DOCTOR BLISS. '' I ^HE people were so seldom sick That it was very true, The one physician in the town Had not enough to do. This doctor was a gentleman, Of average grace and wit, Who studied just six years, until For practice fully fit. Then took his "sheep-skin" and his leave, And unto Smithville went. There hung his shingle out, and lived Until his days were spent. 1 8 DOCTOR BLISS. Although an allopath, he felt Not very much inclined, To be at odds with those who had A different course in mind. Indulging patients in their whims, He seldom would refuse Such mild "botanies" as their friends Might deem it best to use. He was so kind, this Doctor Bliss, To press him there to stay, The townsmen all agreed by vote, A salary to pay. That potent medicine, a smile, He carried everywhere. DOCTOR BLISS. To cheer the sick, and drive away That worst of curses, care. A wit declared, and it was true, When sickness was about, The doctor, walking through the town, Could look the sickness out. There is a legend wide extant, Once Death came walking by. The doctor challenged him to fight And made the monster fly. But Bliss, devoted to the art Of making people well, To sickness and to medicine, At last, a victim fell. 19 20 DOCTOR BLISS. He loved the Squire, and looked like him. Clad trim in brown attire ; Near him he lived, and now at death, Is buried near the Squire. THE VILLAGE SCHOOL-MASTER. A WORTHY gentleman in town, Respected and revered, Was William Wilson, learned and wise, A teacher born and reared. He was a very proper man, Yet cheerful as was meet ; None were more knowing in the place. Nor any so discreet. The little school-house where he taught For twenty years and more, Had but three windows on a side, And one above the door. 22 THE VILLAGE SCHOOL-MASTER. It cost six hundred dollars, just, As records do appear ; And yet the scholars came to think The place was very dear. It stood upon the village green, Hard by the " center church ; " . Was well supplied with furniture, But unsupplied with birch. This Wilson had a better way To punish recreant boys, Who had been lazy at their books, Or making needless noise. Within a very "dreadful book," Where every crime had grade ; THE VILLAGE SCHOOL-MASTER. 23 For every wrong a scholar did, ■ So many checks were made. These famous checks had come to be Regarded with such dread, Some of the culprits thought it were Far better to be dead. With patience and with kindly care. He led his pupils through The path of common learning, till They every feature knew. And oft, perchance, they caught a glimpse Of classic grove and field, And felt a longing for the fruits Those pleasant regions yield ; 2/\ THE VILLAGE SCHOOL-MASTER. But Euclid and " the languages," In district schools of yore, Were all discarded and forbid, As very useless lore. Since Wilson gave up teaching school. Ten years and five have passed ; But through a century to come His influence shall last. He still resides within the town ; And though threescore and ten. The people all declare he is The comeliest of men. CRISPIN CRANE. T N praise of one whose worth and wit The Smithville people prize ; Who, by a timely repartee, Found favor in their eyes : Disciple of St. Crispin he, And christened Crispin Crane, He mended boots and shoes for folks. To get his bread and gain. A kind, a brave, a little man, But five feet tall when up, He booted well each man that came, And then would ask to sup. 26 CRISPIN CRANE. His dwelling was adjacent to His little shop, you see ; So, often, did his customers " Drop in " to take some tea. He took their measure in the shop When guests, they came to find He fully had the power to take The measure of their mind. Full often, in the village store, A brainless, brassy brag, Did all the village people bore, Defeating wise and wag. The townsmen said, " If any man Will squelch that dolt and fool, CRISPIN CRANE. 2/ We'll send him to the capitol, Or fee his son at school." One eve he boasted loud how great His understanding was ; " Let him among you show such mind. A greater mind who has ! " Said Crane — and pointed to his feet — " Your 'standings large ! forsooth ; None may gainsay the fact, for I The measure took of both." Annihilation is no name For how that fellow felt ; He hasted out and little boys With pebbles him did pelt. 28 CRISPIN CRANE. The morrow was town-meeting day, And ere the time was spent, They voted all that Crane should be To legislature sent. He proved so wise a little man, So jolly with his friends, So loth to speak, and always, then. To bring about good ends, So keen, and quick, and powerful, too, A boasting man to floor ; Some of the members of the House, I think about a score, Drew up a paper in due form, And set to it their "fist," CRISPIN CRANE. 29 Of which, if records are correct, The following is the gist : Good Mister Smith, respected Squire, And friend of Crispin Crane ; We wish, at your election, you Would send him here again." He went again, and still once more. Until six times in all ; Nor by the lures of lobby men Did he from honor fall. 'Twas in his time of public life A party rose and fell, Whose bad disaster at their schemes 'Tis pleasurable to tell. CRISPIN CRANE. Late in the term a question rose This party called the test ; For which their leader spoke at length, With artificial zest; And wound his closing period up To show " How blessed the land, When 'garjuns' of the public peace Labor reformers stand ! " " Labor reformers ! " Crispin quoth, " That means too proud to work ! And rightly named, for well you like Life's burdens all to shirk. "You're all adventurers and shams, Unknown to honest toil. CRISPIN CRANE. 3 1 Full frequent at the village inns, And in the cheaper broils. " Below the wrath of common men, Too cheap for ours by half, We'll not oppose your plannings, but Explode them with a laugh ! " The wit that beamed in Crispin's eyes Put all in merry mood, As rang around the galleries One soul-refreshing " Good ! " The gavel man forgot to rap, Reporters dropped their notes, Some member moved "the question!" and — The measure had twelve votes ! 32 CRISPIN CRANE. And that's the way the party died By this sarcastic Crane ; And hence the reason he was sent To General Court again. And since he finished there for all. And closed his public life, He's just as busy in his shop And pleasant to his wife. When once as petit juror drawn, Crane went to county court, To find how much the panel work Was his delight and forte. The court was held in meager hall. Quite hot on summer days. CRISPIN CRANE. 33 And in its age so trembling weak 'Twas fastened up by stays. The judge who ruled that county court Had good judicial grace; He spoke melodiously, but wore A stern, though sunny, face. Serenely beamed through glasses bright. The long-tried county clerk ; Who able seemed for many years To swear men into work. Across the court room from his chair Crane saw, in buff and blue, The sheriff sit in dignity, A pleasant man to view. 34 CRISPIN CRANE. To try a foolish case about The matter of a "V," It cost a hundred dollars, just, Besides the lawyers' fee. The "great case" of the term was next Before Crane's panel brought, In which a citizen his claims Of railway people sought". The wooden witnesses were turned By crafty lawyers round, And made to swear that light was dark. And broken cars were sound. The lawyers, next, their arguments Unto his honor spoke ; CRISPIN CRANE. 33 And in their speech most fearfully The ninth commandment broke. The proper judge, polite and prompt, The jurors charged full clear; And they a verdict gave, unbought By favor, love, or fear. It didn't suit defendants much ; To make a greater stench, They vowed to carry up the case Unto the higher bench. One afternoon there came a lull In business of the court, As lazy lawyers couldn't get Their clients to report. 36 CRISPIN CRANE. • The judge evinced a wish to quit, And bade to end the assize ; " For when there is no work to do, This court had better rise." The crier closed the court, and said, " God save the Commonwealth ! " Opposing lawyers parted friends, And wished each other health. Crane's panel parted on the steps Of that low, dingy hall, With little hope it would give way To comely building tall. The public men who had in charge The matter of a site, CRISPIN CRANE. 37 Had passed their time in foolish fuss That grew into a fight. That dingy court-house stands there still ! A relic of the past ; Wherein the lawyers show their wit, And argue questions vast. MR. JONES, THE SMITH. A STALWART, strong and cheerful man, Our village Vulcan, Jones, Was no exception to the rule That smiths are seldom drones. From morning stars till evening dews His swinging hammer rang, In keeping with the words and tunes Of ballads which he sang. Around his shop tall maples grew And robins caroled there. And rose and daffodil exhaled Their sweetness on the air. MR. JONES, THE SMITH. 39 The gladdest man in town, he saw- More sadness than the rest, But found his joy in frequent work To have the saddened blest. The humbler people of the place Esteemed him very dear ; And men of higher rank than Jones Have sought his shop for cheer. Did any speak of loss, he showed The faith which never tires ; Or tell of luck, his face would glow As ruddy as his fires. And men who shine as millionaires And rulers in the land, 40 MR. JONES, THE SMITH. Are glad to say, that, years ago, He gave a helping hand, And spoke the words of cheer that gave Them courage for the fight, And patience, as they watched through dark The coming of the light. He seeks no higher station than His anvil and his home ; But neighbors think he'll have high place In that good world to come. His life, throughout, an argument How grand the humble man, In meekness who performeth all The noble deeds he can. ABIJAH BEERS. 'THHOUGH Smithville was so blest of heaven, To it one tedious thorn was given. The place had one perfected sinner, Most surely who had been the winner, Did he and Satan run a race On any course away from grace. Supremely mean in all his deeds ; His heart as hard as flint ; the needs Caused by his extortions moved him not. The pining poor were all forgot ; Selfish, thick, marble-faced and stern, Full quick to sin, and apt to learn The ways of avarice and wrong; 42 ABIJAH BEERS. On primal sin improving long, He chose oppression for his art, And practiced it with all his heart ; His sinning cloaked with graciousness. And cursed when he appeared to bless. He so gifted in causing tears Had fitting name, Abijah Beers. May gods protect if here, again, So bad a man 'mong living men ; And there was not, since earth began. So much of meanness in a man. The liberals declared for hell. Else where could that great sinner dwell. He died at last as fools do die ; Thistles thrive where his ashes lie ! LIGHT FROM DARK. INTO THE SUNSHINE. /^^OME to the sunshine bringing bloom, For the rose there's always room ; Come to the sunshine bringing bloom. Out from darkness and from night Into the beams of morning light, Out from darkness and from night. Into the sunshine for relief. Bring the troubled sons of grief; Into the sunshine for relief Into the sunshine with a song, Grasp their hand and lead them strong Into the sunshine with a song. 46 INTO THE SUNSHINE. Bring to the sunshine of your trust ; If they succeed, you surely must Bestow the sunshine of your trust. Full and free, to all impart The sunshine of a generous heart ; Full and free to all impart. Live in the sunshine while you live, And unto all your sunshine give ; Live in the sunshine while you live. Into the sunshine when you die, Into the sunshine up to the sky ; Into the sunshine when you die. REST IN WORK. /'^H, tell me some secluded place, Where, weary with this fitful race. These tired limbs awhile may rest, These tired eyes with sleep be biest, This aching heart be freed from cares. From disappointments and despairs, And breathe there o'er my soul a calm. Amid the fragrance and the balm. Yet, if it be not wise to rest ; If calls the race for speed and zest. Or shine the fields with harvest white That must be garnered ere the night. 48 REST IN WORK. My feet shall run, my hands shall toil, No sighs for rest my purpose foil To do the work and do it well. No friends so fair or foes so fell Shall win or fright me from the task, Nor lessening of the work I'll ask. I'll bear a manly part in life. Nor fret or falter in the strife ; And, spirit crushed or heart depressed, Yet full of hope, alive with zest. Protract youth's joys far into age, Walk royally on pilgrimage ; Be meek, but not a dolt nor slave ; Patient in dole, in danger brave ; 'Till, blossomed white with grief or joy, I take my bliss without alloy. REST IN WORK. 49 But tell me some sweet resting-place, That I may better run the race ; A respite give awhile from pain, That I the grief may bear again. Yet if this boon be still denied, Oh ! Thou to whom none fruitless cried. Grant me at least one sweet relief; Since there are ever sons of grief, Grant me to help them bear the load And teach to tread the paths I trod ; In sympathy with those who weep A respite from my sorrows reap. "YEA, WELCOME GRIEF." 'VT'EA, welcome grief in every form, — Of biting blast or whelming storm ; The streams that would an ocean fill, Or slow, continuous, wearing rill ; Or trouble's flail, or sorrow's mill ; A thorny path up rocky hill, Or desert sands to scorch the feet, Where torrid suns in fervor beat ; Or barren, drear, and sunless plains. Where gloomy winter monarch reigns. Up rocky hills sweet arbors are, And not a flaming sword to bar ; "YEA, WELCOME GRIEF." CI And shineth still, though still afar, Hope's blessed, bright, benignant star. Hot deserts their oases have ; And, crossed, the pleasant plash of wave. And sound of brooks, and warbhng grove, Shall lift the pilgrim's heart above. The true man says, though die I must. Till death I'll keep a beaming trust, Though every plan should fall in dust, And choicest treasures yield to rust. Night brings the day, grief bringeth bliss ; And never that but cometh this. Peace follows war, thorns speak the rose ; Fatigue foreruns a sweet repose ; And he who toils, nor seeks for rest. With respite from his work is blest. " YEA, WELCOME GRIEF. Or this the doctrine of true saints, That he who hath but patient plaints, And interludes his woe with songs, To royal race and home belongs ; And, crowned, shall come in little time To thrones, and feast, and heavenly chime ; And gain within this earthly clime, A joy above ail harp and rhyme ! 'HOW BLESSED AND TRUE THE BELIEF T T OVV blessed and true the belief, That the joy which comes after grief Is sweeter, and never so brief As other joys. How grandly inspiring the thought, That the bliss by bitterness bought, Is nearer to heaven than aught On earth beside. How sweet after storm is the sun, And rest after labor is done, — The peace that by battling is won. And wealth, by toil. 54 "how blessed and true the belief.' If discouraged and distressed, With sorrow and with care oppressed. And sins confessed and unconfessed. And every ill, The heart were struggling for relief, And found no succor from its grief. In buoyant trust and bright belief — How sad the earth. But rules converse of these obtain. Nor mortal suffered yet in vain, A trivial nor the largest pain, Nor ever will. So let the troubled take good heart, Learn well of suffering the art, "how blessed and true the belief." 55 Nor shun to share a generous part In life's good griefs. Right where unkindest luck o'ertakes, Our happy planning rudely breaks, Of choicest treasures havoc makes, We shall succeed. We shall succeed, for God ordains, Whoever suffers loss or pains. Shall reap therefor abundant gains, The interest due. Of none the Father has such care, As those who have abundant share Of losses and of griefs to bear, And foes to meet "THE SUGAR CAMP IN EARLY SPRING." '' I ^HE sugar camp, in early spring, Was fragrant 'neath the hill; Where liquid sweet, from maple trees, Did pleasantly distill. Beneath the slab-roofed shed the fires, O'er which the kettles hung, And when the syrup "grained" in time The cranes were outward swung. Then " dips " of waxen sugar, John, You offered to the girls; Two smiling dears of sweet sixteen, With innocence and curls. " THE SUGAR CAMP IN EARLY SPRING. 5/ One was a sister, good and true, The other choicer friend, Whom afterwards you vowed to love. Till earthly days should end. And now the kerchief that she hemmed Is moist with tears you shed, To think that ere the wedding day Your bonnie Jane was dead. And so you sigh, and so you learn It is how sadly true. Our choicest good and dearest friend Do quickly fade from view. But every day you live to mourn You seem so much a man, 58 "the sugar camp in early spring. I am inclined to think the loss Is other than a ban. And yet 'tis tender business this, To rightly touch the heart, Which even long ago was called From troth or kin to part. MISCELLANEOUS. MY COMRADE'S GRAVE. A CHRISTIAN, comrade, son, and friend* Is slumbering 'neath this sod ; His form is there, his name with us, His spirit with his God. Fit place it is for hero's grave, Where mountain zephyrs play ; Where fair ones bring the choicest flowers. And good men pause to pray. To designate his sepulcher, We raise this shaft, but trust His deeds shall live when monuments Are crumbled into dust. *John J. Bisbee, of Worthington. A TRIBUTE. TV^IND, Christian lady, faithful friend Accept each humble line, Inscribed, in heartfelt praise, to worth And noble deeds like thine. How wise thy words, and fitly said ; They guide, encourage, cheer ; Dispel the darkness of defeat, With hope displacing fear. Some kindnesses are burdensome, In fact, designed as debts; Not thine, these favors, which, increased, But multiply regrets. A TRIBUTE. Like showers thy benedictions come. Refreshing as the dew ; Delightful as the morning sun, Or as the upper blue. Ah ! gentle friend, how bright the earth In every clime would be, Did all admire and practice, too, Unselfishness like thee. 63 THE SWEETHEART. OO bold, should one of you accuse That some sweet girl inspires my muse, To all the rest it would be news, But not to me. She never tells the blessed fact. By any word or any act. Evincing such consummate tact, To keep it hid She is not reckoned on the list, Of those who try to "keep it whist;" And in the search she might assist, And no one sruess. THE SWEETHEART. 65 We'll keep the secret a little more, Then, as so many have before, We'll seek the parson's friendly door, And tell it there. A MODEL SUNDAY-SCHOOL. A SUNDAY-SCHOOL our special charge. Wherein the Httle and the large. Shall sweetest truths of gospel learn ; Do greatest work, nor smallest spurn ; But deem it ever grandest lot, To gather in from hall and cot, From way-side stroll, or nursery door, The children of the rich and poor, And teach them from the gospel word The record of the blessed Lord, Who came to earth, and took our dust, And died to give us chance to trust. No bashful boy without our door, A MODEL SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 6/ Shall weep that no one prizes more, Nor asks to have a place within The walls designed to fence out sin. We welcome each, and welcome all, And at the joy-inspiring call, Of Sabbath bell, on Sabbath morn. When brightest smiles his face adorn, And at the eve, and through the week. Each teacher will for learners seek. And seek them gladly, grandly, too, As angels highest errands do. WHEN YOU AND I WERE BOYS. "X^ZE count above our common good, Selectest of our joys, What people did in sunny times, When you and I were boys. 'Mid lilacs and the clover bloom, Our early moments ran ; And happy in the songs of birds. We journeyed up to man. These scenes so blest to realize, Are brighter, brighter far, That memory doth with golden key The gates of light unbar. WHEN YOU AND I WERE BOYS. 69 What Other cure the world prescribes, By far the safest, best, Is glancing at our early days, Is retrospect and rest. From cares and crowds of urban life. From traffic of the town ; From wearing toil in dust and din, From griefs that weigh you down ; From present ill, and future dread, And all that fetters thee, Come to the country and the past, Be innocent and free. Review the scenes of early days, With kind, religious care ; JO WHEN YOU AND I WERE BOYS. The neighborhood once all your world, And every object there. The pansied yard, the slant well-sweep, And apple orchard near; The ancient farm-house, broad and red, By many memories dear ; The hay-field and the pasture wide. The fences by the lane; The thick-leafed maples where you hid When pattered down the rain ; The road where erst the stage-coach ran, You studied as it passed ; That yellow coach with "thorough-brace," And built to have it last ; WHEN YOU AND I WERE BOYS. J \ The level and the hilly road. On which you trudged to school, To " make your manners " and to learn Hard Colburn's sum and rule ; The school-house with its seats and stove, And desks where jack-knives wrought, And all the friendships that arose ' Twixt teacher and the taught ; The ancient church and man of prayer, And gracious words and looks ; The lessons of the Sunday class, And pleasant Sunday books— These, and the thousand other scenes Thine early being knew 72 WHEN YOU AND I WERE BOYS. Shall bring thee blessed light and balm, And keep thee fresh and true. By frequently reviewing them. Thou shalt be young till death Shall lift thee to the rarer bliss Of everlasting breath. THE YANKEE WESTWARD. T N every western state they are, True sons of Yankee land, With earnest heart and buoyant hopes, And ready, skillful hand ; With native wit and lore of books, Clear fire and common sense ; With grit and patience to endure And earnestness intense. They go with lasting faith and pluck, A freshness, and a trust, They kept alive when erst they laid The Briton in the dust ; 74 THE YANKEE WESTWARD. To fell the forest and to build The railway and the mill ; « A pilgrim school in every glen, A church on every hill ; To fence and till in yeoman farms. The prairie and ravine, And build smart cities, in the wilds Where Indian foot hath been. They go to win a lasting name For Yankees and the right, And show to "redskin," Dutch and Celt, Their shrewdness and their might ; To utilize the beautiful, The useful beautify ; THE YANKEE WESTWARD. 75 The toiler's station, and his work, With art to dignify. They go to win achievements grand In all the arts of peace, And lead the van of progress, till Time's course at last shall cease. Fear not that in this boundlessness The Yankee will be lost, Though not the farthest western wild But his sure foot hath crossed. All that is sacred, fresh, or strong. In Plymouth Rock and shore, Transplanted in the widening West, Shall live for evermore. 76 THE YANKEE WESTWARD. And so, Utopia realized, Our land shall be adored, Till all the kingdoms of the earth. Are kingdoms of the Lord. "TWO DECADES BRIGHT." '' I ^WO decades bright with blessings since We 'gan life's road together, And each to other promised faith In every sort of weather. With gratitude and joyfulness At good with which He crowned us, We look unto the Father high, And thank the friends around us. And here with them we offer prayers, That, through each coming season, Our friends and we abundantly Be blest with health and reason. 78 " TWO DECADES BRIGHT." • And, that we have great things to say. We're minded first and chiefly, The words that speak and reach the heart Are spoken plain and briefly. CHICAGO'S TRIAL BY FIRE. ^ I ''HE proudest city of tlie West In desolation laid, Chicago mourns her fortunes burned. Like gossamer they fade. The meager cot, the grand hotel. The depot and exchange, Are swept within the marching flame, Whose onward maddening range Devours a league of marble wealth. And brings to naught the great. At yester-eve who sat apart, Ensconced in princely state ; 8o Chicago's trial by fire. And, musing on their large success. Planned larger wealth to gain ; But learn so soon, how sadly true, That human hopes are vain. Men of all stations hurry forth Rank now a thing unknown^ And 'scape, if so the flames permit. The fiery, widening, zone. Whose devastating sweep doth blot The grandest works of men ; As though the ancient Sodom scourge Had rained on earth again. Large pity for the desolate, And reverence for God, CHICAGO S TRIAL BY FIRE. Are lessons of this ordeal As spreads the news abroad. Then pour your wealth and comforts in To mend the losses made, And ask the Lord to bid the fire, " Let, here, thy waves be stayed." God's judgments are inscrutable, But wisely all designed ; Or fire, or flood, or pestilence. Or devastating wind. And grand the city shall arise From ruins of to-day ; And, in the future of the land. Hold on its prosperous way. Springfield, October 9, 1871. 6 "THE PAPER." T)E it the ponderous city print. Depicting urban ways, With columns crowded with details Of enterprise and frays ; Or, less pretentious and disturbed. The country weekly calm, Delighting well the villagers With sentences like balm ; It hath important mission, fraught With all that blesses earth, And often maps the surest road To usefulness and worth. "THE PAPER. It hath the ward of interests High, ev^er-during, great ; Minute as little hamlets are, And wide as is the state. The writer at his paragraphs, The printer working by ; I pray their health and happiness May never come to " pi ; " And that the sheet they print may live For many years to come. Prepaid, respected, and the light Of rail-car, 'Change and home. BE CHEERFUL EVER. T T seems to me we might better our lot, And lessen our ills by a half, By thinking them simply the sort of jokes To entertain with a laugh. When Benjamin Beau, so rich and polite. Weds the girl whose hand you had sought, Then seek for another and better than she, For still there are better uncaught. When Jones of your village is chosen to Court, And you remain out in the cold, Then laugh and be glad to think you've escaped The bickerings they have in the fold. BE CHEERFUL EVER. 85 If, on fashionable streets, the bon ton Salute you with " never a nod," Be happy at heart, a nobleman still, Though doomed like a plebeian to plod. When Fate rules adverse in everything, Demolishing every plan ; To laugh is difficult, then, I'll admit. But glorious to laugh, if you can. Toil on contentedly, then, in your sphere, With sighing and scolding have done. For troubles are still productive of good, Albeit as curses they're known. IN ALL LABOR THERE IS PROFIT 'T^HERE'S not a toiler on the earth But gains a good reward, The recognition of his worth, In blessings from the Lord. And only they whose idle hands Disdain the honest toil, In harvest sigh of barren lands, And lack for corn and oil. No matter what the work may be, If it be honest work ; To plow the land, or plow the sea. Or Christianize the Turk. IN ALL LABOR THERE IS PROFIT. 8/ But work with all thy might the day, And work with trusting heart ; Cast useless doubts and fears away, And act a manly part; For comes there still a blessed time When those who do and dare, Shall gain the bright and better clime; And there's no toiling there. And not beyond this world alone Accrue the joys to pay, For burdens borne and labors done, In this, our working day. But here we have abundant good, And choicest blessings given, IN ALL LABOR THERE IS PROFIT. Of earthly peace a plenitude, To indicate our heaven. Art thou of high or plebeian birth. Still sure is thy reward, If thou hast labored on the earth And trusted in the Lord. The poor distinctions made by men Are unessential there ; Our work and worth avail us then. And not the names we bear. AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT. A CCEPT, selectest man I know, Who met my sadder years, And all unmindful of thy griefs, Was mindful of my tears ; Whose kindness, when but few were kind. And noble gentleness, Came so refreshingly to me. And royally did bless ; Accept the gratitude, too small, My heart would offer thee, For thine example and thine aid So freely granted me ; 90 AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT. The heartiest words and kindest deeds Wisely, but freely, given, Imparting to my bitterest hours A foretaste of my heaven. Once scorned by those whom I had blest, And doubted for my trust, My pleasant plans were broken all ; My hopes were in the dust. Then thou didst cheer me — blessed hour! And sacred be the spot. Till earth's ignoble men are both Forgiven and forgot. SHE PLACED THE BITTER SWEET." '' I ^O girlhood's home returning, She placed the bitter sweet Within the grand old mansion, Where sunbeams shadows meet; And modest said, "Henceforward Be kindness all my theme; With constant hand dispensing, The moments to redeem ; And teach, if I have suffered, I would the world be blest ; And pray, if I have struggled. The weary have good rest;" 92 " SHE PLACED THE BITTER SWEET. Then thanked the Heavenly Father Who kept her name so sweet, That, through the bitter trials, Her ways were all discreet. The silver tresses mingling Her raven locks among Mean more than years, they index Her heart's own sorrows wrung; Of which most like she tells not, So reticent of grief; As most like she hath suffered Too deeply for belief. Beyond that first revealing She speaks not of her lot; " SHE PLACED THE BITTER SWEET. 93 Praying her many sorrows By earth be all forgot. To girlhood's home returning She placed the bitter sweet, Within the grand old mansion, Where sunbeams shadows meet! This home by Hope be guarded; More sweet than bitter there; There pleasant sunshine linger. Dispelling clouds of care. WILLIAMSBURG. A TTEMPT the scene at Williamsburg, And paint that fearful day When friends, and families and towns Were sudden swept away. The eve before a peaceful sun Smiled on the valley green ; And happy sang Mill River, then, Meandering through the scene ! In mansion, and in cottage, peace ; At rest each busy mill ; All deemed they had good lease of life. And pleasant seasons, still. And all was peace at break of morn ; Men waked from happy dreams, WILLIAMSBURG. 95 To hear the music of the birds, And warbling of the streams ! Yon slight pent mountain lake 'gan burst. To plunge the valley down ! A horseman rides in haste, to warn The nearest 'dangered town ! Then Hillman brave takes up the cry. And bravest Myron Day, "■ Ye people of the valley homes ! The flood ! Quick ! Haste away ! " Swift came the floods and blotted out A hundred homes and more ; And had not those swift couriers rode, There were a hundred score. But, heeding their prompt warnings given, To hillsides haste the throng ; 96 WILLIAMSBURG. Yet many stay to be engulfed As sweeps the tide along ! The strong-built mills in atoms fall I And on the swollen tide, Large forest trees, houses and rocks In mixed destruction ride. And roars the torrent down the vale To do still further death ; And sweep still other, towns away With its devouring breath. In one brief hour the work is done ! And then the saddest scene That after wars, or wasting fires, On earth hath ever been. One wide destruction meets the eye ; On every hand the dead ; WILLIAMSBURG. 97 Strong, sun-browned men weep like the child, And tremble with sore dread ! No time for words, no time for grief, No time for funeral train ; But, mid the wrecks and debris piles, All searching for the slain ; And all too sad to question why Was this destruction made, And ask on whom shall be the blame Of this great ruin laid. Mill River Valley desolate, Its fields and homes laid waste, Bears witness loud against the men Who built their walls in haste. As sad we gaze on Williamsburg, And mourn the lack of skill, 98 WILLIAMSBURG. That cost so many precious lives And busy store and mill ; We'll vow eternal hate for fraud, And eschew lies and shams; Be honest in our daily lives, Nor order fragile dams. And if it be this sacrifice Shall make the people wise, To tone our weeping there might well Some gratitude arise ! God bless the men who rode to tell The coming of the flood ; And grant these heroes for their deeds Abundant days and good. May pleasant stars beam bright to bless Whose hands kind dressed the dead. WILLIAMSBURG. 99 And freely for the rescued ones A prompt abundance spread. Brave pastor* of the stricken church, Serene 'mid peril's shock ; Industrious searching through the plain For loved ones of thy flock ; Good teacher of the Sunday class, Who beamed with grandest joy To welcome from the waves alive The much-loved manly boy ! And faithful lover, who, that morn, Left home in mountain street. To seek a valley cottage trim And his good sweetheart greet ; *Rev. J. F. Gleason. 100 WILLIAMSBURG. Met news that Leeds was swept away, His dearest treasure gone, But, choking quick his mighty grief, Walked calm and rapid on ; Then eager searched for her remains, Wept tears when she was found. And silent stood to see her form Laid in the burial ground ; And fenced the cottage site, to keep, That none might ruthless tread. Where dawned his hopes, and where, at last, His pleasant hopes were dead ! And aged man, who mourned the loss Of silvered partner dear, But mingled truest bravery With every falling tear ; WILLIAMSBURG. lOI And all who ready did their best To mitigate the grief Of mourning hearts, and build therein Again, a bright belief That God would overrule in love This vast calamity, And make those direst ills we know Perpetual good to be — 'Tis ye I reckon, and your like, Deserving hearty praise ; As bravest victors for the flag, Deserve the nation's bays. "FENCE UP THE WAY." "D IGHT careful with his roadsters, A traveler* down the way, Was driving through the valley, At close of wintry day; When on the high bridge passing It parted, thundering down ; Our traveler is sore wounded. The waves the roadsters drown ! Far in the night discovered, The men who roused him say, *Mr. Edward Moseley, Westfield, Mass. "fence up the way. 103 Thus spoke his care for others, "Fence up the dangerous way!" And, this precaution taken. They bear him to an inn, Where, with his dawning reason, His questionings begin * About the steeds that pleased him. And quick his voice would tell. And swift, and strong, but gently, Would course the plain so well. Informed his pets were buried, His tender heart burst forth, '■'■ But they were my good darlings. And more than gold their worth!" 104 "fence up the way. And through the days succeeding Friends watched his coming health, And mourned the bridge that wrecked him And spoiled his choicest wealth. Heaven grant we heed the warning, Our friends from wrong to stay; That they be not sore tempted, Fence up each dangerous way. And may all towns remember To make their bridges strong, That there be no more perils Like this we build in song. A WORD OF CHEER. TO A LADY, ON HER SEVENTY-SIXTH BIRTHDAY ANNIVERSARY, /^^ OOD woman, wise, that thou hast Uved To cheer thy friends so long, Deserves full grander verse than this Brief offering of song. Thy days be pleasant till they close, And when thy sun fades west. Thine be an entrance through the gates, To meet the good and blest! 4 THEY MEET AGAIN. (scene in BERKSHIRE COUNTY, MASS.) i