LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 pS£o<H 
 %tp, (Bapjjrig^t 3fs + 
 
 Shelf,!?. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
THE :• :• * 
 
 GREEN LEAF 
 
 AND ••• ••• * 
 
 THE GRAY 
 
 •:• POEMS. * 
 
 BY . . ./ 
 
 J. P. IRVINE //6V6 )V 
 
 ^v 
 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the 
 
 office of Librarian of Congress at 
 
 Washington. D. C, A. D. 1891. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. P. Irvine. 
 Kirkwood, Ills. 
 
 MANUFACTURED BY W. B. CONKEY CO., CHICAGO. 
 
TO 
 
 HENRY W. ALLEN 
 
 OF SAN FRANCISCO, CAI.., 
 
 THE BEST OF FRIENDS AND COMPANIONS, 
 I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 I— Prelude ° 
 
 II — At the Pasture Bars 16 
 
 III — A Shining One 19 
 
 IV— The Bells of Kirkwood 23 
 
 V— Fever 25 
 
 VI — The Lightning Express 27 
 
 VII— Two Kids 30 
 
 VIII— Rest 34 
 
 IX— Th an ksgiving 36 
 
 X My Little Girl Under the Snow 38 
 
 XI The Judgment Morning 4-1 
 
 XII— The Mayflower, December 11, 1620. 48 
 
 Xiii— My Two White Doves 50 
 
 XIV— For the Back of a Photograph 52 
 
 XV— Two Towns 53 
 
 XVI— A Psalm of Trust 56 
 
 XVII— Myrrh and Frankincense 58 
 
 XVIII— At New Year's Dawn 6 ? 
 
Contents. 
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 I — Summer Drought 71 
 
 II — A June Morning 77 
 
 III— Before the Rain. 79 
 
 IV — A Sultry Night 81 
 
 V — Indian Summer 83 
 
 VI— A Winter Morning 87 
 
 VII— An April Morning 89 
 
 VIII— An August Afternoon (On the Farm)... 92 
 
 IX — Before Harvest 95 
 
 X— November (Quatrains) 97 
 
Contents. vii 
 
 WAR ECHOES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I— The Drums 109 
 
 II — May Thirtieth 113 
 
 III— The Halt 120 
 
 IV— Franklin, Tenn., November 30, 1864 122 
 
 V — The Fond Heart's Benediction 129 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 ON OCCASION. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I — A Golden Wedding 135 
 
 II — An Easy Chair 144 
 
 HI— Jo Leeper 149 
 
 IV — From the Album of Miss Ina Allen 151 
 
 V — From the Album of Libbie IIamsiiire...153 
 
 VI— Josie 155 
 
 VII— Tossings 157 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 i. 
 
 TN the spring when leaves are green, 
 1 And the bud unfolds and blushes, 
 And I from my window lean 
 Out into the blue serene, 
 Iyist'ning to a pair of thrushes, 
 Pouring forth their witching strains, 
 Sweet as tingling silver chains 
 At the breaking of the morning, — 
 I forget the restless night ; 
 And, half tipsy with delight, 
 Linger long and turn again, 
 Wistful, just to catch a note, 
 
10 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 But I lack the sylvan tongue, 
 Far too fine for words, and hung 
 Tuneful in a golden throat: — 
 Still, it is not all in vain — 
 All for naught my bosom swells ; 
 And within me all the bells 
 Of rapture take the time and swing, 
 Till I cannot choose but sing ; 
 And that sweeter strains, I know, 
 Tinkling through my numbers run, 
 And from sun-lit zephyrs spun 
 Brighter threads of color glow: — 
 And, I may have caught, perchance, 
 From the rhythm of the dance 
 Of airy dapples on the grass 
 A lighter measure ; still, the voice 
 Is not the thrushes' — not, alas, 
 
Prelude. 11 
 
 The hymn that makes the vale rejoice ; 
 But, when leaves are green in spring, 
 And delight is on the wing, 
 Somehow, one is prone to sing. 
 
 Be it so, will any hear — 
 Any pause upon their way, 
 Turning an arrested ear ? 
 Is there aught of love and cheer 
 In the green leaf of my lay ? 
 If so, in the singer's throng 
 There will still be room for me; 
 Rhyme has run its way too long, 
 Fond hearts never tire of song 
 Nor the world of poesy. 
 
12 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the fall when leaves are gray, 
 Winds are lain, and vales and hollows 
 Flanked with hills in blue array, 
 Seem to drift in dreams away, 
 And the barns are mute from swallows, 
 Distance mellows, and you hear 
 Through the drowsy atmosphere, 
 Sounds as soft as murmurs are — 
 As of waters falling far 
 In the lonely mountain glen, 
 And at times, the pheasant's drum 
 Rolling muffled, once, and then 
 All the woods around are dumb. 
 Howe'er, when the sun is low, 
 And the shadows lengthen tall 
 In the evening of the year, 
 
Prelude. 13 
 
 And the gray leaves turning sere 
 From the boughs begin to fall; — 
 Steals a voice unto my ear, 
 Oft repeating one low strain, 
 Subtly plaintive ; and although, 
 Just a voice and nothing more — 
 Just a still and small refrain, 
 Without words, that one may hear 
 All the day long in the rain, — 
 Somehow, it becomes the key 
 That awakens memory, 
 Till she joins and sings of yore — 
 Sings so of the long ago- 
 Chords responding heart to heart, 
 Till my themes are but a part 
 And an echo ; and if tears 
 'Twixt my lines have left a trace, 
 
14 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Eyes were wet in other years 
 For a loved one's absent face ; 
 For the playthings left in place 
 Of a darling gone its way — 
 Flow' ret of a summer's day; 
 For a sash hung in the hall — 
 Dim with dust of twenty years — 
 Yet the rent made by the ball 
 Through the darker stain appears. 
 Thus it is, whate'er is mine, 
 Oh, my friend, I know is thine; 
 Fate is common, though unseen, 
 Walk we all the self-same way ; 
 In the spring the leaves are green, 
 In the fall they're just as gray. 
 
Prelude. 15 
 
 Yet, will any cease their quest, 
 Turn and listen from their road ? 
 As the dove a coveret nest, 
 In some warmly welcome breast, 
 Will my gray leaf find abode ? 
 If so, in the singers' throng 
 There will still be room for me ; 
 Rhyme has run its way too long, 
 Fond hearts never tire of song, 
 Nor the world of poesy. 
 
16 The Green Leaf and the Gray, 
 
 AT THE PASTURE BARS. 
 
 OETURNING lonely from the field, 
 * ^ She met me at the pasture bars ; 
 The moon was like a golden shield, 
 The firmament was lit with stars. 
 
 As morning dawn her face was mild, 
 As evening, so her limped eyes ■ 
 
 God never gave a sweeter child 
 For weary man to idolize. 
 
 So winsome seemed her artless mirth, 
 Her soft caress and ardent kiss; 
 
 I thought of all delights of earth 
 The angels sure will covet this. 
 
At the Pasture Bars. 17 
 
 I know they mean to do no ill, 
 
 But whom they love they lure away ; 
 
 Good angels, love her as ye will. 
 
 But leave her with me while I stay. — 
 
 Just as she is, for I would set 
 
 The hand of time behind an hour, 
 
 If that would stay a little yet 
 
 The bud from blowing to the flower. 
 
 But when at length we homeward went, 
 The fragrant azure shone so clear, 
 
 The great familiar firmament, 
 
 I thought, had never seemed so near. 
 
 Se near, the moon above the trees 
 An airy globe of silver swung ; 
 
 And in the dewy tops of these 
 
 The stars in mellow clusters hung. 
 
18 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 So near, that I could scarce forego 
 
 The thought that one who longing waits, 
 Might hear them singing sweet and low, 
 Of love beyond the golden gates. 
 
A Shining One. 19 
 
 A SHINING ONE. 
 
 STAY, oh stay, sweet dove of heaven, 
 Yet a little, let me be 
 At thy feet a yearning suppliant, 
 
 I^et me kneel and question thee: 
 For I know thou art enraptured 
 
 By the glory of thine eyes, 
 And the whiteness of thy raiment, 
 Thou art here from Paradise. 
 
 Hast thou seen the daintiest angel 
 In all heaven ? Is she fair ? 
 
 Has she grown in radiant beauty, 
 Are her foot- falls light as air? 
 
20 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Did she smiling run to meet thee, 
 Were her kisses sweet and bland ? 
 
 Through the open gates of jasper 
 Did she lead thee by the hand ? 
 
 Has the flash of time between us 
 
 Quickened darkness ? does she know 
 Of the cruel grief that smote us 
 
 When our hope was changed to woe ? 
 Is it true that the Immortal 
 
 Is unshadowed by the Past, 
 That the burthen of remembrance 
 
 At the door of Death is cast ? 
 
 There was one of twenty summers — 
 More than twenty years ago — 
 
 In the vanguard of the battle, 
 Fell with face unto the foe ; 
 
A Shining One. 21 
 
 He was truthful, he was tuneful, 
 And he wore the blush of spring ; 
 
 In his sanctified perfection 
 
 I should love to hear him sing. 
 
 Is the rapture born of heaven 
 
 So complete, there's naught remains 
 Of the earth-life's bitter sweetness, 
 
 Of its pleasures or its pains ? 
 Are you touched with our emotions ? 
 
 Are the dear old voices dumb ? 
 Do you ever long to meet us ? 
 
 Would you love to have us come ? 
 
 Draw near me now, make answer; 
 
 Let me touch thee, feel thy breath ; 
 Reach thy hand and I will clasp it 
 
 Half across the dark of death: 
 
22 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Just a moment, and no longer, 
 Would I lure thee, if I could, 
 
 Though we grieved so when you left us 
 And put on your angel-hood. 
 
 'Tis enough that I have seen thee, 
 
 Gentle spirit, heavenly dove ; 
 And I know thy silent presence 
 
 Is to tell me of thy love: 
 Yet I would not have thee linger; 
 
 Stay no longer, rise and go, 
 Lest a touch of earth should tarnish 
 
 Thy unsullied wings of snow. 
 
The Bells of Kirk wood. 23 
 
 THE BELLS OF KIRKWOOD. 
 
 IT is eve, and the coming and going 
 Of cares, since the gray of the morn 
 Are at rest, and a harmony flowing 
 From the village comes over the corn ; 
 
 As a song o'er the sea when the breakers 
 Are acalm from their turbulent swells, 
 
 Soft winged o'er the manifold acres 
 Flows the sound of the beautiful bells. 
 
 And behold, as I list, my behavior 
 Is softened, as come unto me 
 
 Sweet thoughts of an infinite Savior, 
 On eternity's deep Galilee.— 
 
24 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Of the evening my lifetime is bringing, 
 With a calm that shall woo and enfold 
 
 As a garment of peace, of the ringing 
 Of bells in the city of gold. 
 
Fever. 25 
 
 FEVER. 
 
 STAY near me, sweetheart, clasp,caress 
 My hand thy soft white palms between, 
 Stay all the night, that I may lean 
 On thee my whole weight's weariness. 
 
 Fold, fold me close unto thy breast, 
 I am so tired; sing sweet and low 
 Your love-songs of the long-ago; 
 
 O sing away the night's unrest. 
 
 Sing soft, and ope the window full 
 On yon great woodland, white and still 
 In pallid moonlight on the hill, — 
 
 It is so deep and dim and cool. 
 
26 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 But God is good, my dear, and when, 
 Across the dewy fields of corn 
 Shall blow the healings of the morn, 
 
 I shall not be so weary then. 
 
The Lightning Express. 27 
 
 THE LIGHTNING EXPRESS. 
 
 I. 
 
 OWIFT as the wind's un trammeled 
 
 ^ speed, 
 A train of chariots, all a length 
 
 Of splendor rolls behind a steed 
 
 With loins of iron and the strength 
 
 A legion horses; and as breaks 
 
 The noise of trampling hoofs, and shakes 
 The solid earth, he thunders past, 
 Outpouring on the riven blast 
 
 His notes of warning, shrill and loud, 
 
 Through vapors rolling cloud on cloud, 
 In purple-bordered volumes ; yea, 
 In storm and darkness, night and day, 
 Through mountain gorge or level way, 
 
28 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 With tightening rein and might unspent, 
 And head erect in scorn of space, 
 Holds, neck-and-neck, with time a race, 
 
 Flame-girt across a continent. 
 
 II. 
 
 Think not of danger, every wheel 
 Of all that clank and roll below, 
 
 Rang singing answers, steel for steel, 
 Beneath the hammer's testing blow: 
 
 And what, though fields go swirling 
 round, 
 
 And backward swims the mazy ground, 
 So swift the herds seem standing still — 
 As scared they dash from hill to hill; 
 
 And though the brakes may grind to fire, 
 
 The gravel as they grip the tire, 
 
The Lightning Express. 29 
 
 And holding, strike a startling vein 
 Of tremor through the surging train, 
 The hand of him who guides the rein, 
 
 Is all controlling and intent: 
 
 Fear not, although the race you ride 
 Is on the whirlwind, side by side 
 
 With time across a continent. 
 
7he Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 TWO KIDS. 
 
 f KNOW of a home in the village near, 
 * Where two little children are treas- 
 ured dear. 
 
 A sweet little girl who betrays her grace 
 In the delicate lines of a Raphael face ; 
 
 And a rogue of a boy, who can barely 
 
 walk 
 By pushing a chair, and they say he can 
 
 talk. 
 
 Set square on his feet and firm at the 
 
 knees, 
 He stands like a sturdy young Hercules! 
 
Two Kids. 31 
 
 God grant that he grow to manly estate, 
 And the path he may climb be narrow 
 and straight. 
 
 But the girl is a daisy — a mischiev'us 
 
 lass, 
 Who tosses me kisses whenever I pass, — 
 
 Tosses them laughing, and standing alert, 
 Tempts me to chase her — the gay little 
 flirt; 
 
 Catch a weasel asleep — why, she flashes 
 
 away 
 If I move but a hand, like a mirrored 
 
 ray. 
 
 And wouldn't I scamper, if I were she, 
 From a great, big bearded fellow like me ! 
 
32 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 God grant that howe'er in that fullness 
 
 of time. 
 She bloom into womanhood's beautiful 
 
 prime. 
 
 And yet, little friends, I utter my prayer 
 With a fait' ring regret for the ills you 
 must bear. 
 
 For the loss of the sweetness of innocent 
 
 trust, 
 For the truth without guile and the love 
 
 without lust; 
 
 For the laughter that ripples and runs 
 
 and is glad, 
 In exchange for the smile from a heart 
 
 that is sad. 
 
Two Kids. 33 
 
 But pardon, sweet children, I fear I do 
 
 wrong, 
 For the sigh that I drop with the notes 
 
 of my song. 
 
 Play on and laugh loud, we rejoice in 
 the sound; 
 
 You're the gayest young kids in the neigh- 
 borhood round. 
 
34 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 REST. 
 
 D 
 
 EEP broods the night on land and 
 sea, 
 
 As bent and lame I homeward creep, 
 And fondly lay me down to sleep, 
 Through all the night-of-years to be. 
 
 It is the sleep that lasts for aye, 
 
 The balm that heals the hurts of all: 
 My heavy eye-lids droop and fall, 
 
 And all my being swoons away. 
 
 O friend, come grant me one request, 
 Make wide the confines of my tomb, 
 I am so weary, give me room 
 
 To lie full length in blissful rest. — 
 
Rest 35 
 
 Full length, as on a folded fleece 
 
 Around by curtained darkness hung, 
 Till healed forever and made young 
 
 For that new world where all is peace. 
 
36 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 I. 
 
 TE is of all the gracious Lord, 
 * * Before His throne we bend the knee 
 And lift our voice in grand accord, 
 
 As swells an anthem of the sea: 
 We praise Him for His mercies done, 
 
 The crystal fountain from the springs, 
 The life reviving, shining sun, 
 
 The winds with healing on their wings. 
 
 II. 
 
 Our cup is full: a thousand scents 
 From hampered garners fill the land; 
 
 Like countless towns of golden tents 
 The stacks of wheat in clusters stand; 
 
Than ksgivi fig. 37 
 
 The meadows glow with aftermath, 
 In heaps the gathered apples shine, 
 
 And lowing homeward down the path 
 With burdened udders file the kine. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thus unto Him, our gracious king, 
 
 With banners of our faith unfurled, 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand sing 
 
 The fullness of a gladdened world ; 
 For Him our souls in fervor burn, 
 
 Our life, our love and all are His, 
 At best, alas, a poor return, 
 
 So boundless His abundance is. 
 
38 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 MY LITTLE GIRL UNDER THE SNOW. 
 
 [ AM standing alone by the window 
 A Ivooking out on the infinite gray, 
 As it deepens and darkens to silence 
 
 At the close of a desolate day: 
 There's a lull in the sleeting and raining, 
 
 And now in the stillness I know — 
 As the flakes feather aimlessly down- 
 ward — 
 That all the night long it will snow. 
 
 And lo, as it falls in the valley, 
 
 In the deep, still woods and the sea, 
 
 There's a fall, as of flakes, in the dark- 
 ness 
 Of the life that God gave unto me; 
 
My Little Girl Under the Snow. 39 
 
 For the clouds have been heavy and rainy, 
 But now there's a lull, and I know 
 
 That my sorrow is soft'ning to longing 
 For my little girl under the snow. — 
 
 This night, for my poor little darling, 
 
 In her little grave under the leaves, 
 Only dressed in a shroud of Swiss-muslin, 
 
 Cut low at the neck and the sleeves; 
 For she died when the manifold lilies 
 
 Were a-bloom in the garden below, 
 But the meek little face in the coffin 
 
 Was as mute and as pure as the snow. 
 
 And now, I remember, while thinking, 
 How a year ago — this very night, 
 
 That she and I, here by the window, 
 Stood watching the snow-birds alight; 
 
40 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 And coaxingly calling she fed them 
 With little white pellets of dough, 
 
 But alas, did I think that my birdie 
 Would sleep to-night under the snow. 
 
 But why should I weary with longing, 
 
 When to cease, if for e'en but a day 
 Or a night, would be proof of forgetting; 
 
 Ah, sorrow, stay with me, I pray; 
 Stay with me, that I may be humble 
 
 And patient in bearing the loss 
 Of the dear little idol that keeps me, 
 
 So near to the foot of the cross. 
 
The Judgment Morning. 41 
 
 THE JUDGMENT MORNING. 
 I. 
 
 WHO may reckon of the coming 
 Of the solemn Judgment Day, 
 When the sea shall roll no longer 
 
 And the earth shall melt away? 
 But we know the spinning planets 
 
 Through their wonted measures run, 
 Just as on the natal morning 
 
 When elanced around the sun ; 
 And when we have been forgotten 
 
 And the things we know are gone, 
 Through a hundred future ages 
 
 They will still roll on and on; 
 
42 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Till at last shall come an evening — 
 
 Just as other evenings come — 
 But a spell of deeper silence 
 
 Shall arrest the busy hum ; 
 And the sun, before his setting, 
 
 Pause and turn a ling' ring view, 
 Fondly backward, as if bidding 
 
 Earth and time a last adieu; 
 And at midnight all the army, 
 
 Of the stars in bright array, 
 With the moon adown the heavens, 
 
 Will forever go their way; 
 And I fancy all the living 
 
 Will in heavy sleep be lain 
 And a hush of awful stillness 
 
 Till the coming dawn shall reign. 
 
The Judgment Morning. 43 
 
 II. 
 
 'Twill be startling, in a moment, 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye, 
 Swift and loud a herald-trumpet sound 
 
 Shall break athwart the sky, 
 And a host of shouting angels 
 
 Shall on gleaming wings descend, 
 White and vivid as the lightnings, 
 
 When in wrath they strike and rend. 
 'Twill be such a sound as never 
 
 Echoed since creation's birth, 
 'Twill reverberate throughout the length 
 
 And breadth and height of earth, 
 And shall quicken and awaken 
 
 All the dead that lie beneath, 
 Who shall rise, as He of old arose 
 
 Triumphant over Death. 
 
44 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Oh, my fellow men — my brothers, 
 
 Count the sands upon the main, 
 Count the waves that break between them, 
 
 Tell the drops of summer rain — 
 But a host no man can number, 
 
 Far and wide on every hand, 
 With the grave's dust shaken from them 
 
 Shall the risen myriads stand. 
 There they'll be in countless numbers 
 
 From the mighty centuries past 
 Though their dust a thousand summers 
 
 May have winnowed to the blast: 
 They shall rise from arid deserts, 
 
 From the everglades and woods, 
 From prairies vast and lonely 
 
 And from mountain solitudes: 
 
The Judgment Morning. 45 
 
 There will be no sea so fathomless, 
 Nor wide nor tempest toss'd 
 
 But shall cease its restless roaring 
 And give up the loved and lost. 
 
 III. 
 
 Meetings, aye, I know there will be, 
 
 Though mayhap you have lain alone 
 In the potter's field a stranger, 
 
 You will stand amid your own; 
 How within his arms a daughter 
 
 Shall a yearning father press, 
 How a mother in her rapture 
 
 Will a tender child caress. 
 It may be the blue-eyed darling 
 
 Who was lost and never found, 
 
46 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 It may be the little truant 
 
 Who went swimming and was drowned; 
 And of mine, a precious idol 
 
 Who, when taken, broke my heart, 
 Yet I know that I shall meet her 
 
 Though a thousand miles apart; 
 It must just be as I left her 
 
 In her old-time childish grace, 
 Ere the heavenly radiance touch her 
 
 I must look into her face: 
 Yes, it must just be as we left them — 
 
 Ere the death damp on them lay — 
 For the grave's sweet Balm of Gilead 
 
 Shall have healed their hurts away: 
 Yes, it must be that we shall greet them — 
 
 As of yore in love again — 
 
The Judgment Morning. 47 
 
 Elsewise, heav'n would not be heaven 
 
 And the hopes of earth be vain : 
 That the old love in its fondness 
 
 Still will linger, is not strange; 
 It may be the new is stronger, 
 
 But the old will never change, 
 Till transfigured with the dawning 
 
 Of the new, we shall arise 
 To the home of many mansions 
 
 In the mount of Paradise. 
 
48 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 THE MAYFLOWER. 
 
 Dec. ii, 1620. 
 
 T SEE her 011 yon boundless world — 
 * Gray- winged and tempest tossed, 
 The foam-plumed breakers beating in 
 
 And thund'ring on the coast; 
 The Indian yells, the eagle screams 
 
 And breaks the wild repose, 
 A light is on the wilderness, 
 
 'Twill blossom like a rose ! 
 
 An hardy handful land ashore — 
 An hundred, age and youth — 
 
 A band of Christian Alchemists 
 To test the gold of truth; — 
 
The Mayflower. 49 
 
 The vanguard of a mighty host 
 The coming years should bring, 
 
 Who should kneel before no master 
 Save to God, their sovereign King! 
 
50 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 MY TWO WHITE DOVES. 
 
 QOMEWHERE between the great ex- 
 ^ tremes 
 
 Of mortal life, to-day I stand, 
 And muse and wonder — as in dreams — 
 
 A white dove clinging to my hand, — 
 
 A wee white dove with azure eyes, 
 Yet still, I wonder through my tears, 
 
 How far it is to Paradise, — 
 I know the past is forty years. 
 
 For lo, in Paradise have I 
 
 Another dainty dove like this, 
 
 Who some day in the by-and-by 
 Will greet me with a seraph's kiss. 
 
My Two White Doves. 51 
 
 How far the great Beyond may be, 
 I know not, there's no hint nor sign; 
 
 Will I first 'tempt it, or will she, 
 
 This wee white, nestling dove of mine ? 
 
 If first for me the still, small voice 
 Of death should call, I'll humbly go; 
 
 Between my doves I make no choice 
 For Oh, my God, I love them so! 
 
 But fleet the years that roll on earth, 
 A little while and she will come, 
 
 And she who gave my white doves birth, 
 Till all the loved are safe at home. 
 
52 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 FOR THE BACK OF A PHOTOGRAPH. 
 
 HPHE brush may err but not the art 
 * That paints with sunbeams; here 
 
 you trace 
 The very thoughts upon your face, 
 So clearly cut in every part 
 
 And well defined in every grace 
 The subtlest feature, unconcealed, 
 Your living presence stands revealed. 
 
Two Towns. 53 
 
 TWO TOWNS. 
 
 I\ /IY cottage crowns a knoll of land, 
 * * And peering upward through the 
 
 green 
 Of maple boughs — on either hand 
 Its dormer-windows may be seen. 
 
 And there it is when looking down, 
 The season long in sun or rain, 
 
 You see a thrifty neighbor town 
 At either ending of the lane.— 
 
 A narrow lane and travel worn, 
 
 From lagging wheels and feet that tread 
 
 A-weary with the burdens borne 
 Between the living and the dead. 
 
54 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Though scarce a furlong either way, 
 In one I hear the robins sing, 
 
 And in the other all the day 
 
 The smitten anvil's measured ring, — 
 
 All day I hear the champ of drills, 
 The roll of trains and engine-booms; 
 
 The low, incessant grind of mills, 
 The muffled pounding of the looms. 
 
 Meet whom ye will, there's none but seems 
 Pursuing some elusive quest, — 
 
 Two fretful, counter-passing streams 
 That never know a moment's rest. 
 
 The streets may climb the rugged hill, 
 Or straggle outward to the plain, 
 
Two Towns. 55 
 
 But wind and wind the way they will 
 They lead at last unto the lane, — 
 
 The narrow way we all must pass — 
 How soon or late there's none may 
 know, 
 
 Our quiet homes beneath the grass 
 Are always ready when we go. 
 
56 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 A PSALM OF TRUST. 
 
 BE near me when I die and lean, 
 Your head above my bosom low, 
 Remembering dear, the long ago 
 And all the golden years between. 
 
 For arm and arm through cloud and sun, 
 As lovers long, we hither came, — 
 In life and death we are the same, 
 
 And humbly pray His will be done. 
 
 For well we know his mercies are 
 As sweet and all-abundant now, 
 As when at first we made the vow 
 
 To trust Him truly, near or far. 
 
A Psalm of Trust. 67 
 
 Nor would we change our destiny, 
 Nay, even though we had the power: 
 Our parting will be scarce an hour 
 
 Compared with all the } r ears to be — 
 
 But scarce an hour, then why forlorn, 
 'Twill be as though my way I took 
 At night across a silent brook, 
 
 And vou came over in the morn. 
 
58 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 MYRRH AND FRANKINCENSE. 
 
 Dec. 25. 
 
 r T^HERE , S morn in the land when, 
 
 * from lake unto lake, 
 
 And from ocean to ocean, the people 
 
 awake 
 
 To the pealing of bells, and the hills all 
 ashake 
 
 From the shots of great cannon: 'Tis 
 
 Columbia's voice 
 To come forth and lift banners, beat 
 
 drums and rejoice 
 In a heritage dear to the sons of the free. 
 
 And again, there's a day when, on 
 suppliant knee 
 
Myrrh and Frankincense 59 
 
 Bowing low, we give thanks, and arising, 
 
 outpour 
 Sweet hymns and grand anthems for a 
 
 bountiful store 
 Of the cluster and sheaf, for the herds on 
 
 the plain, 
 For the dews and the balms, and the sun 
 
 and the rain. 
 
 But the day when all peoples in all 
 of earth's climes 
 In glad exultation sing psalms and ring 
 
 chimes, 
 Wreathe their homes in green holly, give 
 
 gifts and make mirth, 
 Is the glorified one of our Lord's lowly 
 
 birth,— 
 
60 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 The day that brought peace and good will 
 unto earth, — 
 
 Brought peace and glad tidings song- 
 winged, and a light 
 
 To relume the deep darkness of Error's 
 long night, — 
 
 Brought healings for anguish, and a 
 balm for all woes, 
 
 From a fountain so brimm'd with sweet 
 love it o'er flows 
 
 In a hundred full streams. 
 
 Oh, then let us pray, 
 Giving thanks, let us sing, let us dance, 
 
 blessed day! 
 Let us meet and clasp hands and rejoice 
 
 that we live, 
 
Myrrh and Frankincense. 61 
 
 And if aught have estranged us, forget 
 
 and forgive, 
 And our gifts, let them corne from the 
 
 heart's proffered store; 
 Let us go through the land and unlatch 
 
 every door 
 To the huts and the hovels where dull 
 
 squalor pines, 
 And where Want never laughs and the 
 
 sun never shines; 
 Let us clime to lone attics, go down to 
 
 low dives 
 And the dark slums of death in the tene- 
 ment hives, 
 So dark that one needs light his way 
 
 through the halls, 
 
62 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 There is slime on the floors and mildew 
 
 on the walls; 
 There are women so haggard and with 
 
 faces so gray 
 One fears to gaze on them, and in pain 
 
 turns away. 
 There are mothers with infants that hang 
 
 uncaressed 
 Like limp and forgotten wet rags on the 
 
 breast; 
 An e'en the half-grown are so shrunk 
 
 and so lean, 
 And with hands so like claws, they look 
 
 old and unclean! 
 
 But enough, they are legion — these 
 hungry and gaunt 
 
Myrrh and Frankincense. 63 
 
 Hapless wretches in tatters — these chil- 
 dren of want 
 
 And of vice and distress — 'tis enough, 
 let us go 
 
 And relight with our smiles their dark 
 hour, and bestow 
 
 The white loaf and rich cluster, place 
 beneath the sick head, 
 
 With a touch, the soft pillow, and ease 
 the straw bed; 
 
 Stir aglow the dead embers, bar out the 
 sharp cold, 
 
 And enwrap the frail forms of the help- 
 less and old, — 
 
 If for e'en but a day, that they may not 
 forget 
 
64 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 There are hearts that still beat with warm 
 charity yet, — 
 
 Just to ease but one moment the chasten- 
 ing rod, 
 
 Just a taste of the sweets of the goodness 
 of God. 
 
 O, thus it is well we're akin unto all, 
 
 And alert to respond to distress at her call; 
 
 And well we are touched with the grace 
 that is kind, 
 
 For there so many lame and there so 
 many blind, 
 
 There are so many waifs, little-bodied 
 and thin, 
 
 Standing out in the cold, looking wist- 
 fully in; 
 
Myrrh and Frankincense. 65 
 
 Aye, so many wee forms that are naked 
 
 and chilled, 
 So many wee stockings that are hung 
 
 and unfilled: 
 There are so many wives waiting late in 
 
 dull homes 
 For a step that is weak and outworn 
 
 when it comes: 
 And there so many friendless and lone 
 
 in the land 
 Who but want a kind word or the clasp 
 
 of a hand. 
 
 O, it's easy to bind the bruis'd reed, 
 and to bow, 
 Pressing soft the cool palm on the pain- 
 smitten brow; 
 
66 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 And it costs but a farthing to pause and 
 
 to feed 
 The poor, little, starved mouths that are 
 
 gaping in need; 
 And still less to take hold an unsteady 
 
 man's arm — 
 Though mayhap he's been drinking, 
 
 'twill do you no harm, 
 So it's easy to help, and withal, we are 
 
 told 
 That the blessings, rained down in re- 
 ward, are ten-fold; 
 And thus it is well we are touched with 
 
 a chord 
 Of the love reaching forth from the heart 
 
 of our Lord. 
 
At New Year's Dawn. 67 
 
 AT NEW YEAR'S DAWN. 
 
 A T New Year's dawn a poet wove 
 -** A tinkling rhyme in divers keys: 
 Behind him lay the darkened hills, 
 Beyond him rolled the purple seas. 
 
 And time is young and time is old 
 He made the glad and sad refrain, 
 
 Sweet mingling each with each as fall 
 The glinting sunbeams and the rain. 
 
 And time is young and time is old, 
 And nimble feet aweary grow, 
 
 As round and round the seasons roll 
 The woodbine and the cypress blow. 
 
68 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Aye, time is young and time is old, 
 With Him who marks our joys and tears, 
 
 A thousand years is but a day, 
 A fleeting day a thousand years. 
 
IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
Summer Drought. 71 
 
 SUMMER DROUGHT. 
 
 \\1 HEN winter came the land was 
 * * lean and sere: 
 
 There fell no snow, and oft from wild 
 and field 
 In famished tameness came the drooping 
 deer, 
 And licked the waste about the troughs 
 congealed. 
 
 And though at spring we plowed and 
 proffered seed, 
 It lay ungermed, a pillage for the birds: 
 And unto one low dam, in urgent need, 
 We daily drove the suppliant, lowing 
 herds. 
 
72 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 But now the fields to barren waste have 
 run, 
 The dam a pool of oozing greenery 
 lies, 
 Where knots of gnats hang reeling in 
 the sun 
 Till early dusk, when tilt the dragon- 
 flies. 
 
 All night the craw-fish deepens out her 
 wells, 
 As shows the clay that freshly curbs 
 them round; 
 And many a random upheaved tunnel 
 tells 
 Where ran the mole across the fallow 
 ground. 
 
Summer Drought. 73 
 
 But ah! the stone-dumb dullness of the 
 dawn, 
 When e'en the cocks too listless are to 
 crow, 
 And lies the world as from all life with- 
 drawn, 
 Unheeding and outworn and swooning 
 low ! 
 
 There is no dew on any greenness shed, 
 The hard-baked earth is cracked across 
 the walks; 
 The very burrs in stunted clumps are 
 dead 
 And mullen leaves drop withered 
 from the stalks. 
 
74 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Yet, ere the noon, as brass the heaven 
 turns, 
 The cruel sun smites with unerring 
 aim, 
 The sight and touch of all things blinds 
 and burns, 
 And bare, hot hills seem shimmering 
 into flame ! 
 
 On either side the shoe-deep dusted lane 
 The meager wisps of fennel scorch to 
 wire ; 
 Slow lags a team that drags an empty- 
 wain, 
 And, creaking dry, a wheel runs off its 
 tire. 
 
Summer Drought. 75 
 
 No flock upon the naked pasture feeds, 
 The sheep with prone heads huddle 
 near the fence; 
 A gust runs crackling through the brittle 
 
 weeds, 
 And then the heat still waxes more in- 
 tense. 
 
 On outspread wings a hawk, far poised 
 on high, 
 Quick swooping screams, and then is 
 heard no more: 
 The strident shrilling of a locust nigh 
 Breaks forth, and dies in silence as 
 before. 
 
76 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 No transient cloud o'erskims with flakes 
 of shade 
 The landscape hazed in dizzy gleams 
 of heat; 
 A dove's wing glances like a parried 
 blade, 
 And western walls the beams in tor- 
 rents beat. 
 
 So burning low, and lower still the sun, 
 
 In fierce white fervor, sinks anon from 
 
 sight, 
 
 And so the dread, dispairing day is done, 
 
 And dumbly broods again the haggard 
 
 night. 
 
A June Morning. 77 
 
 A JUNE MORNING. 
 
 AYE, sing I must, ecstatic June, 
 Such morns the charms of Eden 
 bring, 
 Untouched the bells of rapture swing 
 And all my being breaks in tune. 
 
 As well restrain the roundelay 
 Of yonder golden-throated thrush, 
 Keep still the wren, or seek to hush 
 
 The hymning waters on their way. 
 
 I know the world is tired of rhyme, 
 
 But melody is ever new 
 
 When heard amid the plashing dew — 
 The subtle scent of mountain thyme. 
 
78 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Ah me, I fear a breeze may blow, 
 Or cloud may cast a passing screen; 
 O winsome morn of bloom and green, 
 
 I would that thou mights never go. 
 
Before the Rain. 79 
 
 BEFORE THE RAIN. 
 
 \\ THEN yestermorn upon my early 
 ' " route 
 
 To fetch the cows — far up the hollows 
 found, 
 I knew 'twould rain; a myriad frogs were 
 out 
 And all the marsh a sheet of crackling 
 sound. 
 
 The sky was naught but one blank waste 
 of gray, 
 The rank skunk-cabbage clumps were 
 dull'd to blurs, 
 And on the knolls, a furlong's length 
 away, 
 A gorge of gloom arose the silent firs. 
 
80 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Dim lines of moisture all the night had 
 crept 
 Out-wid'ning from the edgings of low 
 sloughs,* 
 And wheresoe'er a passing hoof had stept 
 There lay a seeping puddle of dark 
 ooze. 
 
 The clumsy cows grazed lagging as they 
 went, 
 The bell, trailed muffled, struck a 
 dull refrain, 
 And ere we knew, the misty world was 
 blent 
 In one dark lowering raiment of gray 
 rain. 
 
 * I give this word the western pronunciation. 
 
T 
 
 A Sultry Night. 81 
 
 A SULTRY NIGHT. 
 
 HE night swooned in a sultry lull, 
 And as we drowsed around the 
 doors, 
 We heard away across the moors, 
 A lonesome dog bark faint and dull. 
 
 Then all was dumb: bats swirled about, 
 Glimpsed through the dusk; mosquitoes 
 
 bit— 
 The smudge of chips against them lit 
 Flamed wanly once and nickered out. 
 
 Above the aspen tops entwirled 
 
 The vapory moon hung half concealed; 
 
82 The Green LeaJ and the Gray. 
 
 The flame-lit cloud at times revealed 
 The darker borders of the world. 
 
 Retiring then we slept till morn — 
 
 It thundered deep — the curtain stirred, 
 The big drops fell, and then we heard 
 
 The deluge breaking on the corn. 
 
A 
 
 Indian Summer. 83 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER. 
 T last the toil encumbered days are 
 
 over, 
 
 And airs of noon are mellow as the 
 morn ; 
 The blooms are brown upon the seeding 
 clover, 
 And brown the silks that plume the 
 ripening corn. 
 
 All sounds are hushed of reaping and of 
 mowing; 
 The winds are low; the waters lie un- 
 curled; 
 Nor thistle-down nor gossamer is flowing, 
 So lull'd in languid indolence the 
 world. 
 
84 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 And mute the farms along the purple 
 valley, 
 The full barns muffled to the beams 
 with sheaves; 
 You hear no more the noisy rout and 
 rally 
 Amongst the tenant-masons of the 
 eaves. 
 
 A single quail, upstarting from the 
 stubble, 
 Darts whirring past and quick alight- 
 ing down 
 Is lost, as breaks and disappears a bubble, 
 Amid the covert of the leafy brown. 
 
Indian Summer. 85 
 
 The upland glades are flecked afar in 
 dapples 
 By flocks of lambs a-gainbol from the 
 fold; 
 The orchards bend beneath the weight of 
 apples, 
 And groves are bright in crimson and 
 in gold. 
 
 But hark ! I hear the pheasant's muffled 
 drumming, 
 
 The water murmur from a distant dell; 
 A. drowsy bee in mazy tangles humming; 
 
 The far, faint tinkling tenor of a bell. 
 
83 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 And now from yonder beech trunk sheer 
 
 and sterile, 
 
 The rat-tat- tat of the wood-pecker's 
 
 bill; 
 
 The sharp staccato barking of a squirrel, 
 
 A dropping nut, and all again is still. 
 
A Winter Morning. 
 A WINTER MORNING. 
 
 STIU, UFE. 
 
 \/OU have seen a winter morning, 
 
 * The horizon dull and low, 
 When the earth and all belonging 
 
 Lay a level waste of snow. 
 In the drear and empty distance 
 
 There was naught of all we knew, 
 Save the gaunt and naked poplars 
 
 To arrest the wand' ring view. 
 It was as a stretch of desert 
 
 With no sign of life thereon — 
 The familiar hills and hollows 
 
 And the fields and fences gone; 
 Every road and lane and by-way, 
 
 Far and near were blotted out, 
 
88 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Hushed the sound of bells and silent 
 
 Were the huntsman's gun and shout; 
 E'en the axes of the choppers 
 
 Were unheard amid the wood, 
 And in drifts the horse of iron, 
 
 With his train imprisoned stood. 
 Save but once across the heavens, 
 
 When there flew a single crow, 
 Not a motion broke the blankness 
 
 Of the muffled world of snow. 
 
An April Morning. 89 
 
 AN APRIL MORNING. 
 
 I HAVE seen an April morning 
 * When the ling'ring winds were lain, 
 And the day arose triumphant 
 From a sun-lit gush of rain ! 
 
 When the uplands and the lowlands, 
 And the woodlands far and wide, 
 
 From the bonds of icy fetters 
 Were unloosed and glorified. 
 
 Wheresoe'er the eye would wander 
 There was naught but what was fair ; 
 
 There was scent of balm and balsam 
 In the clear, refreshing air. 
 
90 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 There were rivulets of silver 
 
 In the valleys; there were gleams 
 
 Through the soft empurpled distance 
 From the dash of mountain streams. 
 
 I could hear the new wine beading 
 In the saplings, and I knew 
 
 There was jubilee in elf-land, 
 From the horns the fairies blew. 
 
 Every germ with life was quick' ning 
 Into green above the mold, 
 
 Every bud a leaf and blossom 
 Was beginning to unfold. 
 
 There was promise in the furrow, 
 In the hatching of the brood, 
 
An April Morning. 91 
 
 In the heifer growing clumsy 
 From approaching motherhood. 
 
 E'en the old were feeling younger 
 With a brighter hope in view, 
 
 As the happy-hearted robin 
 Sang the song forever new. 
 
 Just as when it broke in concert 
 With the brooklet as it purled 
 
 Through the dewy blooms of Eden 
 On the morning of the world. 
 
92 
 
 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 AN AUGUST AFTERNOON. 
 
 ON THE FARM. 
 
 TN stifling mows the men became op- 
 * pressed, 
 And hastened forth hard breathing 
 and o'rcome; 
 The hatching hen stood panting in her 
 nest, 
 The sick earth swooned in languor and 
 was dumb. 
 
 The dust-dull'd crickets lay in heedless 
 
 ease 
 
 Of trampling hoofs along the beaten 
 drives, 
 
An August Afternoon. 93 
 
 And from the fields the home-returning 
 bees, 
 Limp wing'd and tired, lit short before 
 their hives. 
 
 The drooping dog moped aimlessly 
 around; 
 Lop'd down, got up, snapt at the 
 gnats; in pits 
 Knee deep, the tethered horses stamped 
 the ground, 
 And switched at bot-flies dabbing yel- 
 low nits. 
 
 With heads held prone the sheep in hud- 
 dles stood 
 Through fear of gads — the lambs, too, 
 ceased to romp; 
 
94 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 The cows were wise to seek the covert 
 wood, 
 Or belly deep stand hidden in the 
 swamp. 
 
 So dragged the day, but when the dusk 
 grew deep 
 The stagnant heat increased ; we lit 
 no light, 
 But sat out-doors, too faint and sick for 
 sleep ; 
 Such was the stupor of that August 
 night. 
 
Beforr Harvest. 915 
 
 BEFORE HARVEST. 
 
 ON my good steed, at early morn, 
 Along the green- walled lanes I ride, 
 The land is dark on either side 
 With fields of deep, abundant corn. 
 
 From end to end the plowman wades 
 Breast high between the mile-long 
 
 rows, 
 As through the sea, behind him flows 
 
 A flashing wake of two-edged blades. 
 
 And still beyond the darker range 
 A fairer sight mine eyes behold, 
 From lighter green to glimpsing gold, 
 
 The heaving wheat begins to change. 
 
96 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 And farther on, where lands are low, 
 The timothy is all amist 
 Of airy bloom in amethyst ; 
 
 The amplest mows will overflow. 
 
November. 97 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 QUATRAINS. 
 I. 
 
 THE longer days no more appear, 
 The shorter fly on quicker wings, 
 Night cometh, and the poet sings, 
 It is the evening of the year. 
 
 Sings of the sundown, with a sigh 
 Of pity for the tender call 
 Of yonder quail — the last of all 
 
 The scattered covey left to cry. 
 
98 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Sings, as abroad the waning light, 
 The shadows into darkness creep, 
 As from the uplands troop the sheep 
 
 To safer folds against the night. 
 
 Sings, as the cows come lowing near, 
 The sweet bell tinkling down the path 
 The frost has nipped the aftermath, 
 
 It is the evening of the year. 
 
 II. 
 
 November is not all a shrew, 
 
 She hath her noons of mellow airs, 
 Her limpid mornings; and she wears 
 
 Of all the months the deepest blue. 
 
November. 99 
 
 So calmly deep, a leaflet caught 
 
 Hangs dead, but loosened round and 
 
 round, 
 Floats slowly eddying to the ground, 
 
 As noiseless as unspoken thought. 
 
 The halos, too, belong to her 
 
 Of glittering sunsets, clear and keen; 
 
 The fields aflowing far between 
 With film of silvery gossamer. 
 
 The gold- touch' d purpling hills, the hush, 
 The hazel thicket and the glow 
 Of scarlet sumac, deep'ning so, 
 
 I think me of the burning bush! 
 
100 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 III. 
 
 The farmers haul their grain to town 
 In jolting wagons — driving slow 
 They talk of prices — sa)^ they're low, 
 
 When every tree has shaken down 
 
 Its mellow fruit in sixty fold, 
 And every acre of their fields 
 Where sickles clicked, have proffered 
 yields 
 
 The thrashing engines beat to gold. 
 
 Yet, still they talk, as loads appear 
 So great, their teams can hardly pull; 
 To-day I counted, plump and full, 
 
 A thousand kernels to the ear! 
 
November. 101 
 
 A thousand kernels! why not lift 
 A song of trust and triumph then, 
 Hast thou not reap'd — my fellow-men, 
 
 As thou hast sown — in peace and thrift ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 The season hath her churlish moods, 
 But yesterday the air was bland, 
 A hazy languor wrapt the land, 
 
 A purple raiment veiled the woods. 
 
 But in the night an eastern gale, 
 With freezing rain, arose and beat 
 The roofs and window panes with sleet, 
 
 Till all the world was clad in mail.— 
 
102 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 So glassylike, at morn I found 
 
 If one but touch'd a twig, its case 
 Of ice fell shelling, like a vase 
 
 Of fragile crystal, to the ground. 
 
 There came a snapping from the stalks 
 Where cattle fed; if there but hopped 
 A blue-jay in the pines, there dropped 
 
 A shower of needles to the w T alks. 
 
 V. 
 
 The fields are naked, and the wood 
 The burthen of the leaf has cast ; 
 The low-hung sky is but a vast 
 
 Expanse of bleak infinitude. 
 
November. 103 
 
 The trail of smoke the engine made, 
 Hard panting past, an hour ago, 
 Unbroken still and hanging low 
 
 Along the length of heavy grade; — 
 
 The dullness brooding as a pall, 
 Alike at morning and at noon, 
 The wan-like rim that girts the moon 
 
 From night to night, betoken fall. 
 
 There'll be a snow, the farmer says ; 
 Uptaking reins, and pulling down 
 His muffled cap, drives out of town 
 
 Fast homeward by the nearest ways. 
 
104 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The dark, wet earth begins to freeze, 
 That now the fog so long adrip 
 From every eave and pendant tip, 
 
 Is clearing in the nipping breeze. 
 
 The roads are griped, as in a vise, 
 The hoof-prints lipping to the brim, 
 Like swollen pools, from rim to rim, 
 
 Are shot with javelins of ice; — 
 
 That closing fast will prove to be 
 Deceptive pits that split and break, 
 At every step the horses take, 
 
 Up-spurting mire unto the knee. 
 
November. 105 
 
 The load at best is hard to pull, 
 
 Say naught when lab' ring up the steep 
 The clogged wheels drag half-axle 
 deep! 
 
 Nay, spare the lash, be merciful. 
 
WAR ECHOES. 
 
Though o'er them rolls the restless main, 
 And lichens lace their tombs in green, 
 
 And thozigh we call the roll in vain 
 Across the years that crowd between, 
 
 Immortal memory, strong and true, 
 Will keep their deeds, and as the sun 
 
 In golden lustre lights the blue, 
 So shine will they till earth is done. 
 
The Drums. 109 
 
 THE DRUMS. 
 
 r\ WITH pomp of plumes and banners, 
 Ye may blow your cornets sweet, 
 But the airs that moved a nation 
 Were the tunes the drummers beat. 
 
 You remember how they thrilled us, 
 
 As we heard in other years, 
 When Rebellion smote the Union, 
 
 And she called her volunteers? 
 
 How "The Gates of Edinboro," 
 For the feet a rhythm played, 
 
 And "The Girl I Left Behind Me 1 
 In the heart a swelling made? 
 
110 The Green Leaf and the Gray 
 
 How the smith with lifted hammer 
 Heard a moment, caught the time 
 
 Struck his anvil into chorus, 
 As a ringer rings a chime? 
 
 How tne mower paused and pondered — 
 He so young and leal and lithe — 
 
 As he tapped a martial ditty, 
 
 With his whetstone on the scythe? 
 
 And the mason scarce had caught them, 
 From the keystone on the arch, 
 
 Ere he dropped his line and plummet, 
 And took up his line of march. 
 
 Not a loyal ear but hearkened, 
 Not a soul afraid to dare; 
 
The Drums. Ill 
 
 There were pale lads from the counters, 
 Brave hearts from everywhere. 
 
 There were choppers from the timber, 
 Leaving half unhewn the sill; 
 
 There were plowmen from the furrow, 
 There were grinders from the mill. 
 
 There were fathers, poor and needy, 
 Brought the help of their old age ; 
 
 There were sweethearts bade their lovers 
 Write their names on glory's page. 
 
 And among them all a widow 
 With her eldest and her stay, 
 
 How she kissed him as she bless' d him; 
 And with wet eyes went her way? 
 
112 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Till at length the full battalions 
 Stood aligned in shining blue, 
 
 When the ' ' forward inarch ' ' was spoken 
 And the fifes struck up anew 
 
 With " The Girl I Left Behind Me "— 
 And as when the tempest comes — 
 
 With rattling hail and thunder-booms 
 In broke the doubling drums. 
 
 Every footfall caught the rhythm, 
 
 Every heart in valor beat, 
 As the column swept unbroken 
 
 Like a flood- tide through the street, — 
 
 Swept unbroken and beyond us, 
 With the drums still throbbing far, 
 
 For the harvest must be gathered 
 In the scarlet fields of war. 
 
May Thirtieth. 113 
 
 MAY THIRTIETH. 
 
 r\ COMRADES, though in thick'ning 
 ^^^ green, 
 
 Your lowly graves the grasses screen ; 
 And years are long since last we met, 
 With all the change that years beget, 
 There's naught of life or time between 
 
 To woo away remembrance yet; 
 Nor naught that is, nor is to be 
 
 Hereafter, shall your valor stain; 
 For all abundant as the sea, 
 
 And steadfast as her broad domain, 
 So is the Nation's love for thee. 
 
114 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 II. 
 
 And lo! upon this hallowed day — 
 The sweetest e'er to sorrow born — 
 
 We seem to wake afar away, 
 As oft we woke at early morn 
 
 In other years, again to hear 
 
 The gath'ring sounds of battle near; 
 The stormy drum's redoubling beat, 
 
 The bugle's swift, defiant peal; 
 
 The sharp commands, the hurrying 
 feet 
 
 Of must' ring squadrons, as they wheel 
 And league themselves in grim array, 
 To storm the valiant hosts of gray ! 
 
 The word to charge, that breaks the pause 
 
 Of dread suspense, the wild huzzahs, 
 
May Thirtieth. 115 
 
 As forth the phalanx springs and runs 
 Full front upon the flaming guns! 
 As when against a headland steep 
 A billow strikes and strews the deep 
 With warring breakers, even so, 
 The column breaks against the foe, 
 When man and man in all the heat 
 And might of fiery fervor meet, 
 
 And hand to hand with naked blade 
 And bayonet, fight undismayed, 
 The weaker yielding only when 
 Have fallen half their valiant men; 
 Their cannon gone, their colors lost, 
 They smite for every inch they yield, 
 Until, alas! at fearful cost 
 The stronger win the sanguine field. 
 
116 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 III. 
 
 And so a grateful people come, 
 With martial step to fife and drum, 
 
 And cornets sounding silver strains, 
 
 Along a thousand crowded lanes ; 
 We come when spring in fullness 
 breathes 
 
 The wooing airs of summer's dawn ; 
 With plumes of fir and cedar wreaths 
 
 Dark green, that smell like Lebanon ; 
 We come with roses and the bells 
 Of lilies and with asphodels, 
 
 And flower-de-luce in beauty blown, 
 And violets so frail and dear, 
 That each beseems a blossomed tear 
 
 That God had cherished for His own. 
 
May Thirtieth H7 
 
 We bring them fresh of tint and hue, 
 And all aglint with sun-lit dew 
 And lay them in their sweet perfume 
 With tender touch on every tomb ; 
 And in lagoons and water-ways, 
 In lakes and harbors and in bays, — 
 
 From every fortress on the steep, 
 And stately ship where cannon frown 
 We let a fragrant garland down 
 
 For all who slumber in the deep. 
 
 Sleep, comrade, sleep, on sea or land, 
 There's not a palm-full of your clay, 
 So hidden, but a blossomed spray 
 
 Is drop't by some remembering hand. 
 
 For thee the healing rains of spring 
 Fall earlier that the grass may grow ; 
 
118 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 The flowers in daintier fullness blow, 
 The robin redbreasts sweeter sing. 
 
 For thee we lift the granite high, 
 The graven urns of marble set ; 
 Their silver lutes the poets fret 
 
 To dulcet strains that never die, 
 
 Sleep, comrade, sleep, there lurk about 
 No ambush' d foe to fear or shun, 
 The Blue and Gray are one-and-one, 
 
 And all the fires of camo are out, 
 
 Sleep, comrade, sleep, nor dream again 
 The vague uneasy dreams of life, 
 Sleep all forgetful of the strife 
 
 The sleep that lulls away your pain. 
 
May Thirtieth. 119 
 
 Sleep, comrade, sleep and dream of bliss, 
 The night of death is calm and deep, 
 The war is over, sleep the sleep 
 
 That wakes no more to weariness. 
 
 Sleep, comrade, sleep in earth's green 
 breast, 
 There's none to trouble, fear no ill, 
 The night of death is sweet and still, 
 
 Sleep on in the eternal rest. 
 
120 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 THE HALT. 
 
 r I ^HE day was lost, and we were sent 
 * In haste to guard the baggage 
 train, 
 And all the night through gloom and 
 rain 
 Across a land of ruin went. 
 
 But halting once, and only then 
 We turned aside to let the corps 
 Of ambulances pass before, 
 
 That hauled a thousand wounded men ! 
 
 And leaning, drowsy and oppressed, 
 Upon my gun I wondered where 
 The comrade was I helped to bear, 
 
 Slow rearward, wounded in the breast. 
 
The Halt. 121 
 
 When lo ! I heard a fainting cry — 
 
 As wheels drew near and stopped 
 
 aside : 
 "The man in here with me has died, 
 
 Oh, lift him out, or I shall die ! " 
 
 "All right," the one-armed driver said, 
 "The horse can hardly pull the load, 
 We leave them all along the road, 
 
 It does no good to haul the dead ! ' ' 
 
 And so we turned by lantern light 
 And laid him in a gloom of pines, 
 When came an order down the lines, 
 
 " Push on, and halt no more to-night ! " 
 
122 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 FRANKLIN, TENN. 
 
 NOVEMBER 30, 1864. 
 
 TARD pressed, we fell back upon 
 
 * * Franklin, called a halt 
 
 And broke ground in hot haste, to with- 
 stand the assault 
 
 That we knew would be swift as a whirl- 
 wind, and fought 
 
 Without quarter. 
 
 Howe'er, we were vet'rans, 
 and wrought 
 As for life; fences were leveled, bridges 
 
 seized, aids 
 Sent with sharp orders, trains hurried 
 forward, brigades 
 
Franklin, Tenn. 123 
 
 Double-quick' d to the trenches where 
 batteries were set 
 
 With the guns loaded plumb to the muz- 
 zles, and yet, 
 
 Not a moment too soon ! 
 
 For the foe had been massed 
 
 And were dark'ning the hills, and al- 
 though we had passed 
 
 Through a hundred encounters, a hush 
 as profound 
 
 As the silence of death brooded ominous- 
 ly 'round, 
 
 As we stood in amaze and beheld the 
 dark sweep 
 
 Of battalions, interleagued to battalions 
 — six deep — 
 
124 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Aye, the whole rebel army, pouring 
 
 forth from the wood, 
 Forty thousand, in battle array under 
 
 Hood, 
 Forty thousand, a gray and grim steel- 
 fronted host 
 Sweeping forward, as dark waters sweep 
 
 to the coast 
 Ere dashed into breakers, until they, with 
 
 a shout, 
 Like the noise of the sea in its fury, broke 
 
 out 
 And leaped forward ! 
 And yet, there we stood helpless, nor 
 
 dared fire a shot : 
 Two brigades by a blunder misplaced had 
 
 been caught 
 
Franklin, Tenn. 125 
 
 Right between the two fronts, nor were 
 cleared from the way 
 
 Till hundreds fell captive, and the onset- 
 ting fray 
 
 Struck the works by the pike and poured 
 through, when Opedyck 
 
 Caught a glance of the route, and flash- 
 ing his blade 
 
 From the scabbard, called out to as game 
 a brigade 
 
 As ever faced bullets, "Up and at them, 
 my men ! " 
 
 When the lightnings leaped forih, and it 
 thundered, and then 
 
 To the bayonets bent, right forward we 
 broke 
 
126 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Through the hail- whistling flame of their 
 volleys and smoke, 
 
 Till we met with a clash in a hand-to- 
 hand fight, 
 
 Beat them back foot by foot, through the 
 breach, yet in spite 
 
 Of the might of our valor, and the roar 
 and the rack 
 
 Of that tempest of death, they wheeled 
 round in their track — 
 
 All afire from our cannon, — and again 
 and again 
 
 Re-enforced with dark masses of oncom- 
 ing men 
 
 Stormed the line of our works. 
 
Franklin, Tenn. \27 
 
 Why repeat ? You have read of the deeds 
 
 of that day 
 In the records of valor; how we held them 
 
 at bay, 
 
 As the sea-walls the breakers ; of how 
 
 they were led 
 Till the sweeps of their charges were 
 
 strewn with the dead; 
 Of the fronting platoons that were mown 
 
 from their feet, 
 Of the gaps that were filled with no 
 
 thought of retreat 
 Until corps after corps were berefit of the 
 
 pride 
 Of their heroes : of how they were shot 
 
 from astride 
 
128 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 The embankments, cut down in the 
 
 breach, in their raids 
 On the colors, 'round the guns, till their 
 
 scattered brigades 
 Could be rallied no longer, and stricken 
 
 and sore, 
 With their captains unhorsed and their 
 
 swiftest no more, 
 Their banners in tatters, their standards 
 
 in two, 
 Aye, whipped but not conquered, at last 
 
 they withdrew, 
 And the slain of the Gray and the slain 
 
 of the Blue, 
 Were as one as they lay under night's 
 
 heavy pall 
 With the flag of the Union afloat over all. 
 
The Fond Heart's Benediction. 129 
 
 THE FOND HEART'S BENEDICTION. 
 
 DECORATION DAY. 
 
 A GAIN we file into the camp 
 ** Wherein they bivouacked last 
 And as we call the roll they file 
 In solemn silence past. 
 
 We come with songs in minor keys, 
 
 We come with eye-lids wet, 
 We come with lilies of the vale 
 
 We bring the violet; 
 
 We come with wreaths of Sharon's rose, 
 
 With fragrant heliotrope; 
 We come with steadfast, loyal hearts, 
 
 With golden-anchored hope; 
 
130 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 We come with snow-flakes in our beards, 
 
 With winter in our hair, 
 Yet still the flag in hallowed trust 
 
 With valiant hands we bear. 
 
 And when we're gone our sons and theirs, 
 
 Heroic, strong and proud, 
 Will in the vanguard step 
 
 And lift it flowing to the cloud. 
 
 We come with those we left as babes — 
 
 Fair women now are they — 
 Who wove the dewy garlands lain 
 
 Upon your graves to-day. 
 
 We come with fathers, hoar and frail, 
 With mothers, bent and low, 
 
 And little children in whose hands 
 The blue-bells overflow. 
 
The Fo?id Heart's Benediction. 131 
 
 Aye, old and young, in sun and shade, 
 
 From sea to sea we come; 
 The plow stands idle in the field, 
 
 The doors are shut at home. 
 
 We come from hamlets and from towns, 
 
 In hosts along the lanes; 
 From factories in great cities 
 
 Where a Sabbath's stillness reigns. 
 
 We come in summer's rosy dawn, 
 The green woods dark'ning near, 
 
 When orchards drop their bloom and 
 round 
 The young fruit into sphere. 
 
 We come when bees are on the wing, 
 In airy halcyon hours; 
 
132 
 
 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 We come with faith, and love as sweet 
 And tender as the flowers; 
 
 When oriole and bobolink * 
 From every mound and tree, 
 
 And robin-redbreast flute their notes 
 In dulcet melody. 
 
 We come rejoicing and in tears, 
 
 In fondness and in trust, 
 We kneel above their hallowed mounds 
 
 And kiss the very dust. 
 
 And so we give to them the best 
 We have in heart and words, 
 
 And leave them sleeping sweetly 
 With the blossoms and the birds. 
 
ON OCCASION. 
 
A Golden Wedding. 135 
 
 A GOLDEN WEDDING. 
 
 TO-NIGHT we turn and feign would 
 call 
 To mind the smiles and tears 
 That flecked with dappled light and 
 shade 
 A life of fifty years — 
 A wedded life of willing hands 
 
 That drudged from sun to sun, 
 And each succeeding morn anew 
 Took up the work undone. 
 
 'Twas plow and plant and gather in, 
 
 Again to plow and sow; 
 The threaded shuttle through the loom 
 
 Went ever to and fro ; 
 
136 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 It was a constant treadmill tramp — 
 
 Around and still around; 
 And though the mill forever went, 
 
 The grist was never ground. 
 
 But this were well, for, as the times 
 
 And seasons kept their speed, 
 Came restless little feet to shoe, 
 
 And little mouths to feed — 
 Mouths craving bread, and busy hands 
 
 In every mischief thrust; 
 They made the usual pies of mud 
 
 And pattered in the dust. 
 
 To fall and stub the bootless toes 
 
 Was ever boyhood's fate, 
 And fingers just as sure were pinched 
 
 While swinging on the gate; 
 
A Golden Wedding. 137 
 
 The smoothly polished cellar-door 
 
 Was proof beyond a doubt 
 Of how the pants were worn in holes 
 
 Below the roundabout. 
 
 Yet there was mother, deft and quick 
 
 To knit and darn and mend; 
 She soothed the ache and bound the 
 bruise — 
 
 Her love was without end. 
 With constant care her faithful eye 
 
 Was never turned away 
 From watching o'er the truant feet 
 
 So prone to run astray. 
 
 The first one born was little Jim — 
 A most a precious chick; 
 
138 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 The classic precinct of his birth 
 Was down on "Shaver's Crick." 
 
 At times across his back and legs — 
 To cure the itch of sin — 
 
 Was lain the rod's corrective salt — 
 They must have rubbed it in! 
 
 But as he grew he often caught 
 
 A glimpse of sunny gleams, 
 And heard the pulsing silver sounds 
 
 Within the land of dreams; 
 And in the night, when all was still, 
 
 Lay musing late and long, 
 Until he caught the magic spell 
 
 And wove them into song. 
 
 The next on deck was wayward Bob, 
 The drollest of the crew. 
 
A Golden Wedding. 139 
 
 How often! oh, how often 
 
 Has he pinched us black and blue! 
 He went in manhood to the war, 
 
 And fought as he had pinched, 
 And when a bullet pierced his thigh 
 
 He swore but never flinched. 
 
 And then poor John in order came, 
 
 Kindhearted, dashing, free; 
 I never knew of one so full 
 
 Of sanguine hope as he — 
 A hope that turned aside and smiled 
 
 At grim misfortune's frown, 
 Until, alas! in dark eclipse 
 
 His noon-day sun went down. 
 
 And there was David, who, when grown, 
 In manly beauty stood — 
 
140 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 A type of rounded strength, as stands 
 
 A young oak in the wood. 
 His heart was glad, and when the drums 
 
 Were beating far and wide, 
 He marched — a soldier — to the front 
 
 And, fighting, fell and died. 
 
 The next was Edwin, who from birth 
 
 Walked in his Maker's ways, 
 And kept in simple, faithful trust 
 
 His precepts all his days; 
 And when at length a dread disease 
 
 Its fatal course began, 
 He met it — dying as he lived — 
 
 At peace with God and man. 
 
 Then Bell in turn — a laughing lass — 
 One summer's day was born- 
 
A Golden Wedding. 141 
 
 The light that lit her nature seemed 
 
 A reflex of the morn. 
 Consumption! dread destroyer! 
 
 Thou hast claimed her for thine own. 
 White souls there are; a whiter one 
 
 Than hers I've never known. 
 
 Then on one snowy New Year's eve 
 
 In came a gift from heaven; 
 ? Twas little, brown-eyed Sara-Jane, 
 
 The best of all the seven. 
 A faithful daughter she has been, 
 
 A sister true and sweet; 
 Her feet were swift to run, her heart 
 In loyal kindness beat. 
 
 In mother's stead she sewed and baked, 
 And scoured and cleansed the cup; 
 
142 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 In sickness bathed the fevered brow 
 
 The faint head lifted up. 
 And still she's here to-night to share 
 
 The burthens yet unborne — 
 The strength and stay of these old forms 
 
 So weary and outworn. 
 
 So weary with the dizzy whirl 
 
 The turmoil and the strife, 
 The aches, the longings and the cares 
 
 Of this uneasy life; 
 So weary trudging up the hill, 
 
 So weary plodding down, 
 So broken underneath the cross. 
 
 So anxious for the crown. 
 
 Ah, well! we know the crown's in store; 
 The rugged path you trod. 
 
A Golden Wedding. 143 
 
 And, oh! it must be beautiful — 
 
 The city of our God. 
 Has life not sweets to lure you still ? 
 
 The loved ones power to bless ? 
 Long as we may for heavenly halls, 
 
 We love not earth the less. 
 
 Oh, then, dear heaven ! hold not thy 
 charms, 
 
 And let the sun benign 
 In Indian summer loveliness 
 
 Upon them softly shine; 
 Stay winter's coming, and when come 
 
 Keep back the fall of snow. 
 We'll love and bless them while they 
 stay, 
 
 And bless them when they go. 
 
144 
 
 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 AN EASY CHAIR. 
 
 FOR DR. A. W. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 r~\OCTOR, take this easy chair; 
 ■**- Soft its cushion as a fleece; 
 For an hour forget thy care, 
 
 For an hour thy labor cease. 
 Let the sun of heaven shine 
 Still in love on thee and thine, 
 Staying long his going down, 
 Is the fond and fervent prayer 
 Of every heart that beats in town. 
 
An Easy Chair. 145 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou art worthy, and hast been 
 To thy stricken fellow-men 
 Faithful all thy lengthened years — 
 Faithful to them in their tears 
 And unto the bed of pain 
 Thou wert never called in vain; 
 
 Never was the day too warm, 
 Nor the night too dark with rain, 
 
 Nor too wild the winter's storm, 
 Nor too deep the drifted snow, 
 But that thou didst willing go; 
 Never patient yet so poor 
 But was welcome at thy door. 
 
 III. 
 Often have you been the stay 
 Of our dear ones as they lay 
 
146 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Struggling in the mortal throes — 
 Which alone a mother knows — 
 
 In the trying hour of birth; 
 Heard the first awak'ning cry 
 
 Of our children, new to earth. 
 You have seen them bright of eye, 
 Seen them at their nimble play, 
 Seen them grow and go their way, 
 
 Seen them fade and droop and die; 
 Cheered us all when faint and low; 
 Iyaid your hand on wrist and brow; 
 Timed the life-tide's ebb and flow, 
 Cooled the fever of the brain 
 With draughts of healing, as the rain, 
 Show' ring, wooes the arid plain 
 Back to living green again. 
 
An Easy Chair. 147 
 
 IV. 
 
 Eighty years are thine, and, though 
 White thy head is as the snow, 
 
 And the days since first we met 
 Lengthened to the long ago, 
 
 Thou art true to duty yet, 
 Just as if you were not old; — 
 True to Him who guides the way 
 And shall call thee to the fold 
 Ere long when thy work is done 
 Peaceful at the set of sun. 
 
 V. 
 
 Howsoe'er, sit down and rest; 
 
 Soft the chair is as a fleece; 
 
 Set thee down and rest in peace. 
 Golden is the languid west; 
 
148 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 Indian summer round thee shine, 
 Health and wealth to thee and thine. 
 Sit thee down and rest in ease; 
 
 I*et thy dreams be dreams of bliss; 
 Little children climb thy knees, 
 
 Archly giving kiss for kiss. 
 Doctor, thou art truly blessed! 
 Take the chair, sit down and rest. 
 
Jo Leeper. 149 
 
 JO LEEPER. 
 
 FORTY years ago, or nigh, 
 Barefoot boys were Jo and I. 
 I a child and he a child, 
 Here, when all the grove was wild; 
 Played together every day— 
 In the straw rick, in the hay; 
 Hunted birds' eggs, went to school, 
 And a-swimming in the cool, 
 Deep, delicious willow pool,— 
 Now dried up, with just the stumps 
 To show where grew the willow clumps. 
 
 There's change! The creek sinks in its 
 
 bed; 
 I am tired and Jo is dead. 
 
150 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 He so lithe and fleet and strong, 
 Built, we thought, for living long. 
 Better boy was never known, 
 Nor a better man when grown; 
 Kindly-hearted, boy-like still, 
 Thought no evil, spake no ill, 
 Peaceable — he knew no strife, 
 Even- tempered all his life. 
 Iyoved to romp and laugh and joke, 
 Uncomplaining took the yoke 
 When others fainted. Noble heart! 
 Well he filled a brother's part. 
 I^ay him gently down to rest; 
 He deserves it; God knows best. 
 
From the Album. 151 
 
 FROM THE ALBUM 
 
 OF MISS INA AM.EN. 
 
 ]\ /I Y friend! your life is in the May, 
 I V 1 ^ e w j ne f spring is in your 
 
 veins; 
 And like this virgin page, I pray, 
 It e'er may be as free from stains. 
 
 Ah, me! but May is fleet of wing; 
 
 She is too sweet to go so soon, — 
 We hardly hear the robins sing 
 
 Before she hies away to June. 
 
 Though June is dear, we sigh withal 
 Amid her lavish sweets to know 
 
 That summer nimbly seeks the fall; 
 Then comes the winter with its snow. 
 
152 The Green Leaf and the Gray, 
 
 Still, when the winter of your years 
 Shall come, 'twill sweeter be than 
 spring; 
 
 'Tis peaceful age alone that hears 
 From earth the bells of heaven ring. 
 
M 
 
 From the Albtim. 153 
 
 FROM THE ALBUM 
 
 OF MISS UBBIE HAMSHIRE. 
 
 Y dear young friend! your life is 
 sweet, 
 
 Your virtue spotless as the snow; 
 Your hands are deft, and swift your feet; 
 I wish that God would keep you so. 
 
 Howe'er, we may not bind the years, 
 Nor from our course the shadows bar, 
 
 But Age forgets his pains and tears 
 When hope becomes the guiding star. 
 
 And as it shown in times of old, 
 
 And led the shepherds glad and wise, 
 
 For you it streams a rain of gold 
 Across the hills of Paradise. 
 
154 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 And — trust me, friend — I wish that you 
 With willing feet may hither tend, 
 
 And keep as they the star in view 
 Till Jesus meets you at the end. 
 
Josie. 155 
 
 JOSIE. 
 
 AH, Josie! We're weary with sighing 
 O'er the thought that you'll come 
 nevermore, 
 But rejoice that the sweetness of dying 
 
 Was a balm for the suff'ring you bore. 
 For we knew by the saintly behavior, 
 When approaching the dark river's 
 strand, 
 And in the light in your face, that the 
 Saviour 
 Was holding your poor little hand. 
 
 It is rapture to know you're together, 
 That you'll never grow weary again 
 
156 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 In the airs of that beautiful weather 
 That woo away sickness and pain. 
 
 Yet, withal, it is human to weep you, 
 And to see you, oh, what would we 
 give! 
 
 But, my dear little girl, we will keep you 
 In memory as long as we live. 
 
Tossings. 157 
 
 TOSSINGS. 
 
 NOT a wink all night. Toss? I 
 should say so! 
 Turned fifty times, more or less; 
 
 counted sheep — 
 A great flock disappearing, leap by 
 leap, 
 Over a fence into dreamland; watch' d 
 
 th' flow 
 Of dim waters; thought myself in a show 
 Riding the merry-go-round with a 
 
 sweep 
 And swirl that made me dizzy; still no 
 sleep. 
 Then I fell to thinking whether or no 
 
158 The Green Leaf and the Gray. 
 
 There were crumbs in the bed, laughed, 
 
 blamed the seams 
 In the sheets; got up and turned them, 
 
 unfast 
 The blinds; again lay down, longing 
 
 for dreams 
 And sweet slumber that came not. till 
 
 at last, 
 Just as across the hills the daybreak crept 
 And the redbreasts sang of morning, I 
 
 slept.