•©E.5 ^r TH^ PA3T 
 
 Clara L. McIlyain 
 
 
 " 
 
 ^^MMS 
 
 
 
 
 ^Pl 
 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 T^ ^^^^ 
 
 @]^p, inp^rig]^ !fn. 
 
 Shelf ...... Ai \ 1 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
ft 
 
1® 
 
 ©HOEi- ° OpoTHE ^ 1 Ai)T 
 
 Pi)em0 
 
 MRS. CLflRfl K M.5ILYHIN. 
 
 ^? 
 
 EDITED BY HER DAUGHTER, 
 
 LOTTIE MciLVAIN MOORE. 
 
 ■5K- 
 
 pu buskers: 
 
 John P. Morton and Company, Louisville, Ky. ,0^0^ -'/y^ 
 
 V5 55yj,/„ 
 
 180O / on? -'•Nj 
 

 copyrighted 
 Lottie McIlvain Moore. 
 
IVHEN the mcrt y hues of aittiDiiii 
 
 Tinge forest, hill, and leafy grove, 
 When the S2in in softened splendor 
 
 Sheds his radiance from above, 
 IVhen the summer flowers are fading. 
 
 The little birds away have flown. 
 When the wildwood' s only music 
 
 Is the wind's wailing monotone. 
 When like withered hopes the leaflets 
 
 All scattered 'round our path arc cast, 
 Then I come to you, dear readers. 
 
 Only a waif upon the blast ; 
 And I come to you half quest' ning. 
 
 Will you welcome my lays again / 
 Will the Echoes which £ waken 
 
 Strike a chord in your heart's refrain ? 
 In my pages here are garnered 
 
 Many opening buds of thought. 
 Many sheaves of riper fancy 
 
 Which poet heart and pen hath fraught , 
 Blending facts and fairy fiction 
 
 With songs of life and songs of death, 
 Leaflets strewn along life's pathway 
 
 From out the Past an Echo's breath. 
 
^0 t^t <i>rani)«ons of tftc ^iif^or, 
 
 wP>o 00 Sr^quenff^ iForm<jD a ^^^tti'J for §<Jr (J§>^ft<?^ f^m, 
 
 i^i5 Book 15 ©eJ)icatc2) 6y fftdv IBof^^v. 
 
■I®i^£FA©£- 
 
 ObN presenting this collection of poems to the public, I 
 fer feel that I am not only fulfilling the wishes of the 
 author, but also those of many friends who have from 
 time to time come to me with .the request that I should 
 edit my mother's poetry — left me as a sacred legacy at the 
 close of a life of such sweet tranquillity and beauty that it 
 could but fail to resolve itself in poesy. 
 
 It has been a melancholy pleasure to revel in these 
 " Echoes of the Past," which wakened memories of happy 
 days now vanished and brought again to mind sorrows 
 which time had only dimmed. 
 
 While the work has been pleasant, it has not been alto- 
 gether without labor, as many of the choicest poems were 
 in pencil, written in my mother's latter years, during 
 steadily failing health. These I found in a port-folio long 
 laid aside. 
 
 Others had been gathered together in neat form by her 
 own hand for me to use when I saw fit. 
 
(i PREFACE. 
 
 The selection from the numerous manuscripts in my 
 pjssession has not been a question of weeks or months, but 
 has occupied a part of my time for some years. 
 
 The'harvest being ready, I have gathered the fruits into 
 
 this volume, which I trust will not only prove acceptable 
 
 to her friends but also to readers to whom the author was 
 
 unknown. 
 
 LOTTIE M<^^'ILVAIN MOORE. 
 
©ON'T'ENT, 
 
 SOflGS OF liiPE. 
 
 The Bridal, 1'^ 
 
 Christmas, ^^ 
 
 The Past, the Present, and the Future, 24 
 
 The Little Gold Head and the Brown, 26 
 
 The Band of Seven, 28 
 
 Wedding Bells, ^^ 
 
 Life, ^4 
 
 Weighing the Baby 37 
 
 Four Generations, • • 39 
 
 Lines, ^^ 
 
 Christ is Risen, 41 
 
 What Will Its Destiny Be? 44 
 
 Snow, 46 
 
 'T is Night, Darling Husband, 49 
 
 The One True Church, 51 
 
 Childhood, ^4 
 
 Sunshine in a Shady Place, 56 
 
 The Golden Wedding Day, 59 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 POE^WS OF FJ^flCY. 
 
 I Will Return at Easter Tide, 65 
 
 A Reverie, 73 
 
 The Faded Flower, 75 
 
 What ARE THE Stars ? 77 
 
 The Friends of Other Days, 79 
 
 A Valentine, 81 
 
 My Room, • • • 83 
 
 Belle, 86 
 
 Musings, 88 
 
 Love, 89 
 
 New Year's Day, 90 
 
 A Thought, 92 
 
 To A Friend, 93 
 
 The Recording Angel 94 
 
 The Tuneless Harp, 99 
 
 For an Album, 100 
 
 Lines, 82, 103 
 
 A Valentine, 104 
 
 Friendship 104 
 
 LiVI^ICS OF DEATH. 
 
 Must I Go? . . . .' 107 
 
 Will THE Angels Love Lulu IN Heaven? 110 
 
 The Shadow, 112 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Dying Year 1^^ 
 
 The Dove and the Kaven. 114 
 
 Death, 1^^ 
 
 Manassas 1^^ 
 
 To Be, to Blossom, and to Die, 123 
 
 Little Dell, 12^ 
 
 Full of Years, ^'^^ 
 
 The Merciless Waters, 1^^ 
 
 Heavenward, ^^^ 
 
 Not Dead, but Sleepeth, 1^^ 
 
 Dear Little Margie, 1^^ 
 
 No More Parting, ^^^ 
 
 Twin Blossoms, 
 
 The Moonlit Grave, ^^6 
 
 "Two," l**^ 
 
 The Nun's Reward, ^^^ 
 
 Two Angels, 156 
 
 Lay Her Down Gently, ^'^^ 
 
 1 AH 
 
 Thou Art Gone, 
 
 Not Dead, ^^^ 
 
 1 CO 
 
 Alone in Prison, *"' 
 
 Forget Not the Dead. 
 
 1 fir 
 Alone with God, 
 
 Nunc Dimittis, ' 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Star OF Bethlehkm, |-rj 
 
 The Last Shall be First '. . . 2'>5 
 
 Merry Christmas, 940 
 
 >""'* 261 
 
gongs of I^ife. 
 
THE BRIDAL. 
 
 (^TRAINS entrancing — witching music !- 
 
 ^ Fill with melody the air ; 
 
 Lights are flashing, flowers are breathing 
 
 Sweetest fragrance everywhere ; 
 Garlands, culled from wood and garden, 
 
 Wreathe with Nature's grace the walls ; 
 Lightsome footsteps, happy voices 
 
 Echo gayly thro' the halls. 
 
 Fair the scene — meet for the bridal — 
 
 Every heart responsive swells 
 To the chiming, merry chiming 
 
 Of the golden marriage bells. 
 Pure and lovely in the freshness 
 
 Of thy blushing maiden grace ; 
 Veil enhancing, not concealing, 
 
 All the sweetness of thy face; 
 
14 THE BRIDAL. 
 
 Orange buds and spotless lilies 
 
 Resting lightly on thy brow, 
 Where no past, no present sorrow 
 
 Casts its envious shadow now ; 
 Rarest lace and richest satin, 
 
 Pearls from ocean's deepest tide — 
 Thus we see thee, oh, our daughter ! 
 
 In the vesture of a Bride ! 
 
 Let the band of merry bridesmaids 
 
 On thy ling'ring footsteps wait; 
 Let the Bridegroom pause a moment 
 
 As he enters at the gate ; 
 Let the guileless little children 
 
 'Mid the buds and blossoms stray, 
 Which their hands have culled to scatter, 
 
 Fitting emblems, on thy way. 
 
 Let them wait! for in this hour 
 
 All the love comes surging back, 
 Which has, full and deep and changeless, 
 
 Flowed adown thy childhood's track; 
 Let them wait ! the voice of Nature 
 
 Rises holy in its might — 
 All the Mother, oil the Father, 
 
 Speak within our hearts to-night. 
 
THE BRIDAL. 15 
 
 Bridal robes and orange blossoms 
 
 Fade before us as we gaze, 
 Thou art once again the darling 
 
 Of our early wedded days; 
 And a helpless babe we clasp thee 
 
 Fondly, closely to our breast. 
 Kiss thy parted lips, watch o'er thee 
 
 In thy dreamless cradled rest, 
 
 Guide thy trembling, tott'ring footsteps, 
 
 Mark thy dawning girlish grace, 
 And thy life a line of gladness 
 
 In our own lives seems to trace. 
 But time passes swiftly onward. 
 
 And e'en now thy wand'ring feet 
 Ling'ring pause, but half reluctant, 
 
 Where the Brook and River meet. 
 
 Laughing Brook ! with naught but sunshine 
 
 Mirrored in its crystal flow ; 
 Mighty River ! whose dark waters 
 
 Tell not of the rocks below ! 
 Pause and think, our child ! our daughter ! 
 
 Ere thou tempt' st its treacherous tide, 
 All thou leavest — all thou plightest — 
 
 When thou goest from us — a Bride. 
 
16 THE BRIDAL. 
 
 All around thee still lies smiling 
 
 Childhood's sunny, flowery plain, 
 Soon to vanish in the distance, 
 
 And to come back — ne'er again I 
 And the voices with loud echo, 
 
 Through the vista of its years, 
 Ring with notes of joy and gladness, 
 
 Mingled not with sighs or tears, 
 
 And the love which e'er watched o'er thee, 
 
 Turning every thorn aside, 
 Leaving not a sweet untasted, 
 
 Leaving not a wish denied — 
 All this love, so deep and holy ! 
 
 All this love, so tried and true ! 
 Thou art leaving for another 
 
 Which is yet untried and new ! 
 
 Wilt thou turn back ? No ; the woman 
 
 Speaks in all thy glowing face 
 With a power and a sweetness, 
 
 With a hallowed, lofty grace ; 
 And we bless God, though we lose thee, 
 
 Precious darling of our life, 
 For the trusting love that fits thee 
 
 For the mission of — a Wife ! 
 
THE BRIDAL. 
 
 This is not an empty pageant ! 
 
 This is not an idle sliow ! 
 And thy bridal has a meaning 
 
 Which mere worldings can not know ; 
 For, unseen by them, yet blessing 
 
 As the pure in heart are blest, 
 He is here, whom thou hast bidden — 
 
 Precious Savior, Cana's guest ! 
 
 Let him enter then, the Bridegroom ! 
 
 Into his hand we now place thine — 
 To his loving, tender keeping 
 
 Our life's treasure we resign ; 
 And may God and his bright angels, 
 
 Who are with us here to-night. 
 Bless him e'en as he proves faithful 
 
 To the vows he soon will plight. 
 
 Go thou forth with him — our daughter ! 
 
 Be the sunshine of his life — 
 Jewel priced above the rubies — 
 
 Tender, true, and faithful Wife! 
 Make his home a very Eden ; 
 
 Let the angels. Peace and Love, 
 Be its sleepless sentinels, and 
 
 Liken it to Heaven above. 
 2 
 
18 THE BRIDAL. 
 
 Be his joy in hours of gladness ; 
 
 And when come — as come there will — 
 Weary days and sorrow-laden, 
 
 Be his joy, his comfort still ; 
 Show him that a lofty spirit 
 
 Dwelleth in that girlish form, 
 Eeared to know but smiles and sunshine, 
 
 Yet undaunted in the storm ! 
 
 Bid them come, the merry bridesmaids ! 
 
 And the happy children too ; 
 Open, open wide the portals, 
 
 Let the bridal train pass through ! 
 O'er a pathway strewn with flowers 
 
 Lightly tread their careless feet. 
 And their coming gladsome music. 
 
 Sweetest melody, doth greet: 
 
 Till before the Lord's anointed. 
 
 Lowly, rev'rently they bend. 
 Plight the solemn vows that bind them 
 
 Heart to heart, till life shall end ! 
 May God bless thee, oh, our daughter ! 
 
 Bless the dear one at thy side ! 
 Bless the love and pride that thrill him. 
 
 As he turns to greet his Bride ! 
 
THE BRIDAL. 19 
 
 And although some tears must glisten 
 
 As we turn to say "Farewell," 
 Deem them not all drops of sorrow ; 
 
 Know we thou hast chosen well : 
 And the light of hope shines through tlien\ 
 
 Making rainbows fair and bright, 
 Arching o'er the untried future 
 
 Which thou enterest to-night. 
 
CHRISTMAS. 
 
 IS midnight, and as one entranced I gaze 
 Upon the stars that gem the azure maze 
 Above us, God's own jewels, one by one 
 His hand that set them, when the day is done, 
 To flash and sparkle in the silvery light 
 That ushers in the radiant Queen of Night. 
 
 Stars ! — the same that sang the joyful hymn 
 Of the creation ; that grew pale and dim 
 Above the angry deluge; still the same 
 That lit the angel feet that went and came 
 To Jacob in his dream ; that looked with awe 
 On Sinai when God thundered forth his law. 
 
 The same ! But here my very soul is bowed 
 In reverence and love ; and as a cloud, 
 A sunset cloud, the glowing Present fades. 
 The Past emerges from the phantom shades : 
 A vision dawns upon my wondering eyes — 
 Judea's spreading plain before me lies. 
 
CHRISTMAS. 21 
 
 And 'neath its palms the patient shepherds keep, 
 Methinks, the midnight watch above their sheep. 
 The stars in all their jeweled splendor shine ; 
 The moon sends down in many a silvery line 
 Her full-orbed radiance. Save the sound 
 Of far-off fountains, stillness reigns profound. 
 
 But lo ! a flood of living, golden light 
 Illumes the skies, but now so calmly bright, 
 And music! Heavenly music, such as ne'er 
 Had tranced with melody the mortal ear, 
 Fills the still midnight ! Prone upon the ground 
 The shepherds fall in rev'rence at the sound. 
 
 " Glory to God ! " the angel choirs proclaim, 
 
 And " Peace on Earth " to those who fear his name. 
 
 Bid man rejoice! this night has ushered in 
 
 The sinless Savior of a world of sin ! 
 
 This night the myriad hosts of Heaven have smiled. 
 
 For Christ is born and God is reconciled ! 
 
 And these stars are the same that shone 
 On that first glorious Christmas, and anon. 
 With steadfast ray, the Magi passed before, 
 To guide their footsteps, lead them to adore. 
 The same eternal stars! though ages in their train 
 Have come and gone, and Christmas dawns again. 
 
22 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Christmas! but not iii Judea. Fair and white 
 The earth lies sparkling in the still moonlight, 
 Bagemmed and clad in spotless garments, meet 
 The royal Babe of Bethlehem to greet, 
 While leafless forests sigh a soft refrain 
 Caught from that sweet angelic strain. 
 
 Clu-istmas! How through the vistas long and dim 
 Of vanished years our Life's first morning hymn 
 Comes swelling back ! Days when we wished and smiled 
 A nd hoped with all the untaught ardor of a child 
 Are with us, till we seem to quaflf once more 
 The pure unmingled halcyon draught of yore. 
 
 We smile, and then we sigh, for ah ! between 
 The Now and Then what sorrows intervene ! 
 What narrow mounds before us rise to-day. 
 The spectral milestones of Life's onward way : 
 There lie the hopes — the cherished friends of yore — 
 And they shall come to us on earth no more. 
 
 And yet 't is " Merry Christmas" all the same. 
 
 It is the day the infant Savior came ; 
 
 The day the Angel choirs in triumph sang 
 
 Their song of peace, whose mighty echo rang 
 
 From Heaven to Earth. God bids each heart rejoice : 
 
 You sorrowful! will you not hear his voice? 
 
CHRISTMAS. 23 
 
 His outstretched hand bids human passions cease; 
 Enter his Temple ; taste his blessed Peace ! 
 If earth looks dark, creep closer unto Him, 
 He brings you joys that fade not or grow dim ; 
 Cast off your fetters, let your spirit rise 
 E'en to the grlorious vision of the skies. 
 
THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FUTURE. 
 
 TJJURRAH, boys ! hurrah ! cried a rosy cheeked boy, 
 
 *^*^l While his dark flashing eye sparkled brighter with joy, 
 
 And the proud curl of triumph was on his young lip ; 
 
 That boy, proud artist, had launched his first ship. 
 
 'T was a beautiful stream, a clear running brook, 
 
 And flow' rets peeped out from each soft, grassy nook ; 
 
 The sun too was shining so brightly on high, 
 
 Not a cloud came to darken the beautiful sky ; 
 
 And the birds were all singing — but, absorbed in his toy, 
 
 He thought not of these, happy, innocent boy! 
 
 On the morrow we came, but all battered and torn 
 
 Lay the ship then so pretty, but now so forlorn ; 
 
 And the artist of yesterday wandered to-day 
 
 'Mid the birds and flowerets, as heedless as they — 
 
 The remains of the Past all around thee may be, 
 
 But the Presentj fair childhood, the Present for thee! 
 
 When the soft winds of summer are whispering 'round, 
 And the leaves bend to list to the murmuring sound, 
 On the shore of a river, whose deep, silent flow, 
 Thus ever, unresting, right onward must go, 
 Is a youth, with the shadow of thought on his brow, 
 If a shade we can call what such brightness brings now. 
 
PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. 25 
 
 'T is true, he has changed, but the eye and the lip 
 
 Betray the young artist, tlie lord of the ship. 
 
 The grass, the fair flowerets that spangle the shore 
 
 Are unheeded as those by the brookside of yore. 
 
 The birdlings' sweet songs, as uncared for are here. 
 
 As those that in childhood once greeted his ear, 
 
 But no ship charms him now, nor the green forest nigh. 
 
 Not here — on the distance he is turning his eye. 
 
 Oh ! what is the Present, fond dreamer, to thee ! 
 
 The Future, gay youth, ah ! the Future for thee ! 
 
 The chill winds of winter so bleak and so drear 
 
 Are singing the dirge of the weary old year. 
 
 And the snow weaves his shroud on the wide-spreading plain, 
 
 And our brooklet is bound by a stern, icy chain. 
 
 All unheeding the blast, comes an old man once more 
 
 To revisit the haunts that he cherished of yore. 
 
 Time has silvered his locks and has furrowed his brow. 
 
 But you gaze on the boy — the gay dreamer now. 
 
 See ! his eye lights once more — there 's a smile on his lip — 
 
 He is thinking, perhaps, when he launched his first ship. 
 
 Now the smile fades away, the old man bows his head 
 
 In mem'ry of hopes long since withered and dead. 
 
 And thus, when the Present no more shalt thou prize, 
 
 When the Future's bright rainbow shall fade from thine eyes. 
 
 And thy heart all entombed with thy treasures must be, 
 
 Then the Past, hoary age, still shall blossom for thee. 
 
THE LITTLE GOLD HEAD AND THE BROWN. 
 
 ^^/'HERE are they pillowed to-night, 
 ^ " The little gold head and the brown? " 
 Far from my dim, longing sight, 
 
 Nestling all cosily down. 
 Dreaming sweet dreams of delight — 
 Far are they pillowed to-night, 
 
 " The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 
 God bless each dear little head — 
 "The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 
 Angel-wings over them spread ; 
 
 Monarchs may boast of their crown, 
 
 Earth may her jewels outspread — 
 
 I have for treasures instead 
 
 " The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 
 Sweetly and calmly they sleep, 
 
 " The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 
 Heedless of tears they must weep, 
 Heedless of skies that must frown, 
 
 Tares with the grain they must reap ; 
 
 Woes all our love can not keep 
 From " the little gold head and the brown." 
 
THE LITTLE GOLD HEAD AND THE BRO WN. 27 
 
 Ah, yes! the future may hold, 
 
 For " the little gold head and the brown," 
 Temptations, dangers untold. 
 
 Skies that may lower and frown ; 
 Fortune and friends may turn cold. 
 Grief in its shadows enfold 
 
 " The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 
 Shield them, dear Lord, we pray, 
 
 " The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 Keep them from going astray ; 
 
 Let them not faint nor fall down, 
 
 horny and rough though the way. 
 Lead them through night unto day, 
 
 "The little gold head and the brown ! " 
 
 And when, all silvered at last. 
 
 No more " the gold head and the brown ! " 
 Life and its sorrows are past, 
 
 Oh then ! an unfading crown 
 For the cross they have borne and held fast, 
 Which now at thy feet they will cast. 
 
 Give to " the gold head and the brown." 
 
THE BAND OF SEVEN. 
 
 ^EE, a band of youthful maidens 
 '^^ Pausing with reluctant feet 
 By the swiftly rushing waters 
 
 Where the brook and river meet ; 
 Eoses bloom upon their faces, 
 
 Roses deck their sunny hair, 
 And the glory of life's morning 
 
 Rests upon each forehead bare. 
 
 And the goal for which they 've striven 
 
 They have reached; bin ah! its brightness 
 Now seems strangely dimmed by tears, 
 
 For not lightly may be severed 
 Golden bonds by friendship riven. 
 
 And they linger o'er the parting, 
 This gay, careless band of seven. 
 
 But there speaks a lovely maiden. 
 Through her rainbow smiles and tears, 
 
 Why cast we this mist of sorrow 
 O'er our happy coming years ? 
 
THE BAND OF SEVEN. 29 
 
 In this world of change and changes 
 Sure so7ne constant hearts are given ; 
 
 Come what may, unto each other 
 We '11 be true — we still are seven. 
 
 "At the altar" — and a soft smile 
 
 Glowed upon her blooming cheek — 
 " We will stand by each companion, 
 
 List the vows 't is hers to speak ; 
 And alas ! " — but here she faltered 
 
 As she dashed away a tear — 
 " If one be called to leave us, 
 
 We will mourn beside her bier. 
 
 " And the early called and chosen 
 Shall the Guardian Angels be 
 To those who still must journey 
 To the bright eternity." 
 
WEDDING BELLS. 
 
 'P^^/'EDDING bells ! Wedding bells ! 
 ^^ How their merry, silvery chime 
 Seems to tell of naught but gladness ; 
 
 How it wakens into rhyme 
 All that's fairest, all that's brightest, 
 
 All that's tend' rest, all that's best, 
 All that 's dearest, all that 's truest, 
 
 Li the heart within our breast ! 
 
 Wedding bells ! Wedding bells ! 
 What a soft and rosy haze, 
 
 What a rainbow-tijited glamour 
 Cast they o'er our coming days ! 
 
 Life seems all one summer garden- 
 Endless bloom without decay. 
 
 Grief and care but empty shadows 
 That a breath can trace away. 
 
WEDDING BELLS. 31 
 
 Wedding bells ! Wedding bells ! 
 
 Oh ! how broad the path appears, 
 Flower-crowned and bright with sunshine, 
 
 Down the mystic vale of years ! 
 And the thorns amid the roses, 
 
 And the rocks we fain must meet. 
 Know no terrors and detain not 
 
 Our unwearied, untried feet. 
 
 AVedding bells ! Wedding bells ! 
 
 Must their echoes die away ? 
 Must the clamor and the tumult 
 
 Of life's still advancing day 
 Drown the sweetness and the music 
 
 Of their distant, gladsome chime. 
 Break the charm and pierce the brightness 
 
 Of our early morning time? 
 
 Must the slowly dawning wisdom 
 
 Of the ever-passing years 
 Bring to eyes unknown to weeping 
 
 Dreary shadows, bitter tears. 
 As we catch the saddened cadence 
 
 As it rises, as it swells. 
 That is mingled with the chiming 
 
 Of the bells— the wedding bells? 
 
32 WEDDING BELLS. 
 
 Wedding bells ! Wedding bells ! 
 
 Is there nothing that survives 
 Of the beauty and the freshness 
 
 Of the morning of our lives, 
 Nothing that, when youth has left us. 
 
 And our heads are bowed and gray, 
 We can claim of all the brightness 
 
 That shone o'er our bridal day? 
 
 Ah ! we know our steps shall falter, 
 
 And our sparkling eyes grow dim, 
 Hope shall fade, and Death shall gather 
 
 Many dear ones unto him ; 
 But within our hearts, perennial 
 
 In its beauty, ever dwells 
 Love, the changeless, the immortal, 
 
 Of the bells — the wedding bells! 
 
 Love ! the burden and the cadence 
 
 Of their ever joyous strain, 
 Sometimes faint ; but in its fullness 
 
 Do we catch the sweet refrain 
 When, the tumult and the striving 
 
 Of life's noon-day conflict past, 
 Battle-scarred, we turn our faces 
 
 To the evening shades at last ? 
 
WEDDING BELLS. 
 
 Wedding bells! ah, then, all golden 
 
 Shall the mighty touch of Time 
 Wake the ever-growing brightness 
 
 Of their chime — their silvery chime, 
 Golden with the fair effulgence 
 
 Of that holy, Heavenly place. 
 Where in all his dazzling glory 
 
 We shall see God "face to face." 
 
 ^ 
 
 '~'^ 
 W 
 
LIFE. 
 
 WAS morning : o'er a vale of flowers 
 Aroi^e the sun, his golden beam 
 Kindling with light the fairy bowers 
 
 That made the beauteous landscape seem 
 As if the Savior's kindling smile 
 Were resting on the spot the while. 
 
 A silvery stream the lovely vale 
 Filled with its music soft and low, 
 
 While moved a bark with swelling sail 
 Most gently to its water's flow, 
 
 And calmly on its course did glide, 
 
 Sweet zephyrs whisp'ring at its side. 
 
 Within a rosy infant played, 
 
 On whose bright face dwelt smiles so fair, 
 It seemed as golden beams had strayed 
 
 From Heaven, their home, to linger there. 
 But played the baby not alone — 
 An angel's wing was 'round it thrown. 
 
LIFE. 
 
 Time passed: still on the slight bark Hie?*, 
 A graceful youth now marks its tide ; 
 
 Some ripples on the stream arise, 
 But hovers near the angel guide, 
 
 And points the boy with longing eyes 
 
 To towers that gleam in far-off skies. 
 
 Noon comes, but oh ! a low' ring cloud 
 The smiling sky has overcast — 
 
 It bursts — now roars the tempest loud, 
 The lightning fiercely glimmers past, 
 
 And on the storm-tossed vessel stands 
 
 A weary man with outstretched hands. 
 
 In vain to steer his bark he tries ; 
 
 A long and dreary rock-bound coast 
 Is all that meets his anxious eyes, 
 
 And should he strike that he were lost. 
 At length he prays, the dark clouds fly, 
 Again his angel hovers nigh. 
 
 'T is evening, and the setting sun 
 Is sending down his parting beam, 
 
 His kindly course is nearly run. 
 And in the calmly flowing stream 
 
 Descend his bright rays one by one. 
 An aged man now fills the bark, 
 Who scarce his onward course can mark. 
 
36 LIFE. 
 
 His angel points with outstretched hand 
 Whence seraph music gushing seems — 
 
 Such as oft played an angel band 
 
 In dreams, his happy childhood dreams. 
 
 Gained is the port — hushed human strife- 
 
 That port is Heaven — the voyage, Life. 
 
WEIGHING THE BABY. 
 
 'ES ! bring in the scales : weigh the dear little man — 
 Such a one ne'er was born since creation began ! 
 
 Take care ! line the basket with pillow of down, 
 
 And cover him well from his heel to his crown. 
 
 Our baby, our darling, our well-spring of joy ; 
 
 The world never saw such a wonderful boy ! 
 
 Hold him steady. Papa, and let dear Mamma see ; 
 And Grandpa and Grandma, come count— one— two— three — 
 Four— five — six — and seven — and eight — and — yes ! — nine! 
 Nine pounds: are you sure? look! the figures are fine. 
 Nine pounds weighs our dear little manny all told. 
 And every ounce dearer than jewels or gold. 
 
 There dow ! it is over : his dear little head 
 Burrows cosy and warm by Mamma in the bed : 
 See his tiny pink ears and his cunning pink toes. 
 And his sweet rose-bud mouth, and his cute little nose. 
 Oh, the love he has wakened — our dear baby boy ! — 
 God-given and holy, time can not destroy. 
 
38 WEIGHING THE BABY. 
 
 But, e'en as we gaze on his slumbering face, 
 
 The shade of the future sweeps over its grace : 
 
 For we know that our darling the cold world must weigh — 
 
 Not tenderly, proudly, as we did to-day ; 
 
 It will spread for his weakness no cushion of down, 
 
 No mantle his frailties to cover or crown ; 
 
 Nor e'en will its standard be lofty and true; 
 Success is its touchstone of merit : and who 
 Would fain win its smiles, but too often must learn 
 To flatter what most he should scorn, loathe, and spurn. 
 God grant — oh, our boy! — it must not be thine 
 Thus to bow and to cringe at an unhallowed shrine. 
 
 May he ker>p thee from danger, temptation, and sin ; 
 Make thee lovely -without, but more lovely within ; 
 For yet one time must our darling be weighed 
 By scales hands Almighty have fashioned and made ; 
 And as they are balanced his future will show 
 An infinite bliss or a limitless woe ! 
 
 But when he came down from God's beautiful throne 
 
 To be "our" dear boy, he came not alone. 
 
 God sent a bright angel to point him the way. 
 
 And he will watch o'er him by night and by day, 
 
 Turn the thorns from his path, and. Life's pilgrimage past, 
 
 God shall weigh him, and find him "not wanting" at last. 
 
FOUR GENERATIONS. 
 
 SOUR generations ! Life's oft changing phase, 
 
 ^ From rosy dawn to evening's twilight haze — 
 
 Alpha, Omega — man's epitome ! one ray 
 
 Of passing sunshine shall for us portray. 
 
 The Infant living in the Present, while 
 
 His youthful parents gazing on him smile, 
 
 With fair dreams of the Future far away. 
 
 Whose rainbow arch is spanning o'er to-day ; 
 
 Their parents, o'er whose hopes and dreams the Past 
 
 Its mingled bitter-sweet begins to cast ; 
 
 And then, again, their parents' parents, who 
 
 Full many a weary mile have journeyed through. 
 
 Whose youthful picturings have paled before 
 
 The nameless glories of the unseen shore. 
 
 The Present scarce is theirs; "they^^ claim the Past, 
 
 And to their vision is made clear at last 
 
 The love that sent each joy and grief aright, 
 
 And thank God for the " even-time of light! " 
 
LINES. 
 
 Y life is like a troubled stream, 
 A faded flower, a gloomy dream, 
 A tomb upon- whose marble white 
 The sun may shine, yet fail to light; 
 Or like a harp whose wailing tone 
 But speaks of joys forever flown. 
 Or like the dying ember's light, 
 Sad relic of what once was bright ; 
 Some ivied ruin dim and gray, 
 Left silent, crumbling to decay, 
 Or some bright hope — too bright to last — 
 Come but to tell us it is past. 
 Or like meteor's flash o'er sky, 
 Which brightens radiant but to die. 
 
CHRIST IS RISEN. 
 
 * 'ifNHRIST is risen !" Swell the tidings, 
 
 ^^ Even to the far off skies, 
 Joyful tidings, " Christ is risen" 
 
 That we too with Him may rise ; 
 
 Rise with Him, from death and darkness, 
 Strife and weariness and gloom, 
 
 Unto light and life eternal. 
 
 Fadeless beauty, changeless bloom. 
 
 Oh the bliss, the nameless rapture ! 
 
 Unto us it is not given 
 To conceive ! Ah, who can picture 
 
 Our first Easter morn in Heaven ! 
 
 Risen ! free and freed forever 
 From our load of care and sin, 
 
 Come unto the gatf^s of Heaven, 
 Opened wide to let us in. 
 
42 CHRIST IS RISEN. 
 
 Safe across the troubled waters, 
 Where storms come not, tempests cease, 
 
 Life's unrest and fev'rish longing 
 Stilled at last in endless peace. 
 
 Oh, my friends! doth not earth's journey 
 Oft seem weary, tho' our God, 
 
 Prince and Savior hath before us 
 Lovingly the pathway trod? 
 
 Doth not e'en the sun shine darkly. 
 And the skies look gray and cold, 
 
 Till we cry out, " Save, we perish! " 
 Ere life's mile-stones half are told ? 
 
 But when thickest, darkest 'round us 
 Press the shadows and the gloom. 
 
 Thoughts of that bright Easter morning 
 Come like light upon a tomb. 
 
 Easter ! Easter — blessed Easter ! 
 
 Resurrection and the life. 
 Glorious God-like compensation 
 
 Of our struggles and our strife. 
 
 E'en the earth springs forth to greet thee. 
 Verdure-clad and crowned with flowers, 
 
 Casting off the icy fetters 
 
 Which have bound her wintry hours. 
 
CHRIST IS RISEN. 43 
 
 And we too will bid thee welcome, 
 
 Hope and love and holy faith 
 In our hearts anew shall blossom, 
 
 Make us faithful unto death ; 
 
 From earth's doubtings and defilements 
 
 Make us pure and strong to rise, 
 Fitted by our earthly Easter 
 
 For the Easter of the skies. 
 
WHAT WILL ITS DESTINY BE? 
 
 (^LEEPING sweetljj calmly, on its young mother's breast 
 
 '^Lay a dear little babe, in its innocence blest. 
 
 Its golden curls played o'er its forehead so fair, 
 
 As though sunbeams in brightness were lingering there, 
 
 And the rose's pale blush on its cheek glowed the while, 
 
 And its sweet cherub lips seemed to part with a smile. 
 
 The mother's dark eye spoke of volumes of love, 
 
 As she gazed on the treasure just lent from above. 
 
 And she murmured, "My darling ! oh, may thy young heart' 
 
 E'er be sinless as thou in thine infancy art." 
 
 Love watched o'er its sleep, but I sighed, as I thought 
 
 On the future, all dim, with uncertainty fraught ; 
 
 And I whispered, " Life dawns all in brightness for thee, 
 
 But what, smiling babe, will thy destiny be?" 
 
 Must the light pass away from that pure, sinless brow, — 
 Oh! must clouds lower dark where the sunbeams rest now; 
 Must the bright color fade 'neath the pressure of care. 
 And yield to the lusterless hues of despair? 
 
WHAT WILL ITS DESTINY BE? a 
 
 Shalt thou too, bright vision of Heavenly })irth, 
 
 Learn that sorrows must dim the joys of this earth — 
 
 That the things we most cherish the soonest decay, 
 
 And that e'en while we gaze they are passing away[? 
 
 Oh! shall it be thine disappointment to drain. 
 
 To toil on for this, and to toil on in vain ; 
 
 To love and to know, ere the night watch is o'er, 
 
 Thy loved one will pass to Eternity's shore ; 
 
 That the stars that beam now from heaven's blue wave. 
 
 To-morrow will shine on a newly made grave? 
 
 We know not — the future is dark to our eyes; 
 
 Only deep love we know in thy mother's heart lies — 
 
 'T is thy talisman now ; and oh ! had it the power 
 
 To change into sunlight thy life's darkened hour, 
 
 Not one grief should be thine, not one sorrow, one tear. 
 
 But all bright as thine infancy's dreamings appear. 
 
 Yet there's One keepeth guard, with- His angels o'er thee. 
 
 And He knoweth alone what thv destinv'U be. 
 
 -—^ 
 
SNOW. 
 
 IT is snowing! it is snowing! 
 * Cried my little one in glee ; 
 It is snowing, softly snowing, 
 Oh, dear mother, come and see ! 
 
 So I hied me to the window 
 Where my little darling stood, 
 
 And looked out upon the snowflakes 
 In a quiet, dreamy mood. 
 
 Very pure and white before us 
 Stretched the now deserted street, 
 
 With its fair snow yet untrodden 
 By man's busy, way-worn feet. 
 
 And I sighed, that on the morrow 
 It would spotless be no more; 
 
 Busy life must leave its traces, 
 As it e'er has done before. 
 
 Oh ! what foot-prints, many foot-prints, 
 Would the coming morning show 
 
 On the yet unsullied surface 
 Of the snow, the spotless snow ! 
 
SNO W. 47 
 
 Here the light and careless foot-prints 
 
 Of the merry-hearted boy, 
 Bounding o'er the welcome snowdrift 
 
 In his free, unclouded joy ; 
 
 There the plodding step of labor. 
 
 Here the firm and manly tread, 
 And the lingering, trembling foot-prints 
 
 Of the old whose youth has fled ; 
 
 Here we trace the aimless wanderings 
 
 Of the houseless poor by night; 
 There Crime's lurking, stealthy foot-prints 
 
 Dim the snow's unbroken white. 
 
 Oh ! the foot-prints, many foot-prints, 
 
 That the coming morn will show, 
 What a varied tale they tell us. 
 
 Foot-prints on the fallen snow I 
 
 Then I turned me to my darling. 
 
 And methought she 's like the snow, 
 
 Pure and spotless sent from Heaven 
 To this weary world below ; 
 
 On the yet unwritten tablets 
 
 Of her inner heart and mind 
 Not a shadow, not a blemish, 
 
 Not a stain of earth we find. 
 
48 SNO W 
 
 Yet e'en here life's weary lessons 
 Must be written and effaced, 
 
 Hoary Time's relentless way-marks 
 By his iron finger traced. 
 
 Earthly shadows must fall darkly 
 On the yet unclouded way; 
 
 Earthly sorrows, earthly passions 
 Dim the sunshine of to-day. 
 
 Pure from God have I received her ; 
 
 Must her little cheek grow pale ? 
 Must her soft brown hair be silvered, 
 
 Must her airy foot-step fail ? 
 
 Must she rear her youthful idols. 
 Must she bow to them and trust 
 
 But to see them with the evening 
 Fall and crumble into dust? 
 
 Yes ! but human life is fleeting 
 And our home is not below ; 
 
 Whence man cometh he returneth, 
 Like the snow, the fallen snow. 
 
 With the first warm breath of summer 
 Shall the snow-drift pass away, 
 
 Gently drawn from earth to heaven 
 By the sun's absorbing ray. 
 
'TIS NIGHT, DARLING HUSBAND. 
 
 '?W5 IS iii^ht, darling husband, 
 
 ^ And night far from thee ; 
 The young moon is crowning 
 
 With silver each tree, 
 And the bright stars unwearied 
 
 Look out from above 
 Like faithful friends keeping 
 
 Their vigil of love. 
 
 The streamlet and zephyr 
 
 Are hushed into rest, 
 The birdling has flown to 
 
 Its soft mossy nest. 
 All buried in slumber 
 
 The earth seems to be ; 
 But 'tis night, darling husband. 
 
 And night far from thee. 
 4 
 
50 'TIS NIGHT, DARLING HUSBAND. 
 
 Yet briDgs not this hour 
 
 Its balm to my heart, 
 The shadows that gather 
 
 There will not depart ; 
 My spirit is yearning 
 
 Thy dear face to see — 
 But 't is night, darling husband, 
 
 And night far from thee. 
 
 As I look through the gloaming 
 
 Of years that have flown 
 Since first at the altar 
 
 Thou calledst me thine own, 
 At thy side I am longing. 
 
 Ay, longing to be — 
 But 't is night, darling husband. 
 
 And night far from thee. 
 
THE ONE TKUE CHURCH. 
 
 *IM WAS evening, and as in a dream I 8too(i 
 
 Musing on life— its evil and its good- 
 How man, created for the glorious skies, 
 Barters his kingdom for earth's vanities ; 
 How crime, unchecked, unblushing holds its sway 
 And flaunts its banners in the open day. 
 And how the fiercest passions burn and rage 
 And blight the glory of the present age— 
 And raising up mine eyes to heaven, I cried : 
 " O Lord, for this poor world Thy Son hath died ! 
 Yield it not up to sin and crime and woe, 
 Send us some heaven-taught messenger below, 
 Whose lips will drop with eloquence to win 
 The wretched sinner from his life of sin ; 
 The sophist, who spends life and health and youth 
 In solving errors to the light of truth— 
 The worlding, from his painted, gilded ease, 
 To labor for the rest that never flees— 
 
62 THE ONE TRIE CHURC/I. 
 
 One who can slicd a liirlit upon the ulooni 
 
 That wraps the ag<Hi hast'ninji' to the tonil), 
 
 And in the promise of our youthful day 
 
 Tinge with the brightness of a heavenly ray. 
 
 Error engulfs us as a surging flood, 
 
 Where is the preacher of Christ's Sacred Blood?" 
 
 But ere I paused a voice, though stern, yet mild, 
 
 Low answering, said: " Where is thy faith, O child? 
 
 Evil can not ])revail o'er good. The search 
 
 ►Shall be rewarded in the One True C'hurch." 
 
 Ri^l)uked, I turned with reverend step and slow, 
 
 Nor paused until the solemn organ's flow 
 
 Of sacred music, dedicate to Him, 
 
 Swelled the broad aisles of His Cathedral dim. 
 
 Prostrate before the holy altar here 
 
 I bowed, nor rose until upon my ear 
 
 Fell words so beautiful that I would fain 
 
 Have deemed them echoes of some heavenly strain ; 
 
 And, looking up, I saw a form so young, 
 
 80 frail, it seemed there yet around it clung 
 
 The halo baptized infancy must know 
 
 Ere yet it stains its robes of spotless snow. 
 
 Again I listened, and wnirds so plain and real 
 
 That all who heard must understand and feel ; 
 
 He spake truths that did seem to fall 
 
 Of their own weight into the hearts of all ; 
 
 Forgetting self, he only seemed to span 
 
THE ONE TRUE CHURCH. 53 
 
 Tlie bridge, the gulf that yawns 'twixt God and man. 
 Old men were there, who bowed their silver'd heads. 
 And rev'rent whispered, "Sacred ground he treads;" 
 Great men and learned, yielding as they heard 
 Unbidden homage to God's holy w-ord ; 
 Young men and maidens, human blossoms fair, 
 Yielding to God their morning fragrance there ; 
 Children, whose reason scarce had dawned above, 
 Sunning their hearts and feeling " God is love." 
 He ceased! O'er all a solemn silence fell ; 
 And as again the organ's mighty swell 
 Stole through the aisles, its cadence seemed to rise 
 And fall with melody caught from the skies. 
 As God draws near, earth fades like mist away, 
 Her brightness pales beneath His perfect ray. 
 And as the Sacred Heart is raised on high, 
 Its blessings flow in answer to His sigh. 
 "I thank thee, gracious Lord," I cried, " my search 
 Has not been vain within Thj One True Chnrch!^^ 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 /l!\H, happy childhood ! come again 
 ^^With all thy fleeting joy and pain, 
 When in our path some new-born flowor 
 Sprang up with every passing hour, 
 And every breeze that fluttered by 
 Breathed joy athwart the sunlit sky. 
 
 The sun still ushers in the day, 
 
 The moon sends down her silv'ry ray ; 
 
 Yet all their light seems dimmed with tears, 
 
 They beam not as in childhood years ; 
 
 They seem but mem'ries of the Past, 
 
 Bright, but alas ! too bright to last. 
 
 Spring still the earth adorns with flowers, 
 With verdure clothes the forest bowers ; 
 The brook its murmurings as of yore 
 Breathes softly to the pebbly shore ; 
 A thousand charms the fields enfold, 
 Yet wear they not the tints of old. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 55 
 
 And thou must never more return, 
 Earth's stern, sad lessons all must learn ; 
 Yet when the breaking heart is bowed 
 By sorrow, through the low'ring cloud 
 Will burst, and softened radiance cast 
 Around us, mem'ries of the past. 
 
SUNSHINE IN A SHADY PLACE. 
 
 /1|^ Y darling, you have brought your book, 
 ^^^ And wish that I should trace 
 Some lines upon its virgin page, 
 Its spotlessness to grace. 
 
 One moment brief you lingering stood 
 
 Just here beside my chair — 
 The sunshine through the windows stole 
 
 And nestled in your hair ; 
 
 The radiance of life's morning time 
 Enwrapping you in light, * -J^- ^ 
 
 How fair methought, art thou, youth ! 
 How glorious, how bright ! 
 
 Spring's roses blush upon your cheek. 
 
 And in your smiling face, 
 The reflex of your happy heart 
 
 It makes mine light to trace. 
 
SUNSHINE IN A SHADY PLACE. hi 
 
 'T was in a book the other day 
 
 I found a thought so true — 
 So sweet — that I will dare my dear 
 
 To borrow it for you. 
 
 Though writ long years ago, 't is meet 
 
 E'en this fair page to grace, 
 These are the words, "A sunshine in" 
 
 (Mark now) "a shady place." 
 
 The thought came o'er me as you stood 
 
 Just now beside my chair. 
 That though the place was dark before 
 
 You made a sunshine there. 
 
 Thus should a woman ever prove, 
 
 And thus, my child, may you 
 Through all life's changes ever be 
 
 To woman's mission true ; 
 
 For life has many a shady place, 
 
 As one and all must learn ; 
 Its vistas dim, as smiling youth, 
 
 Fly never to return. 
 
 To turn its shadows into light, 
 
 Its meaner dross to gold, 
 Such is the wonderous alchemy 
 
 That woman's touch should hold. 
 
58 SUNSHINE IN A SHADY PLACE. 
 
 Be yours, my child, this precious gift, 
 
 Be yours this magic art, 
 To shed around you ev'ry where 
 
 The sunshine of the heart. 
 
 The heart so guileless and so free. 
 
 So spotless and so pure, 
 That gilding e'en the darkest clouds 
 
 Its sunshine shall endure, 
 
 Undimmed by age, undimmed by care. 
 
 Till it is called to grace 
 That world by God's own sunshine filled, 
 
 That knows no "shady place." 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING DAY. 
 
 fIFTY years! Oh! for the tongue, the pen, 
 The glowing pen of Seraph, to portray 
 The varied cycles 'twixt the now and then — 
 
 The snows of Winter and the buds of May ! 
 Fifty years ! aiong whose path are strewn 
 
 The cold, dead ashes of departed joy; 
 Hope's withered buds, and many a mural stone 
 
 .Sacred to love — Time, failing to destroy. 
 And envious of the sweetness that it gave. 
 Has made a hallowed mem'ry and— a grave ! 
 
 For all lives must know changes. Spring must pass 
 
 And yield to Summer and her flow'ry train. 
 And Autumn's gold must fall upon the grass, 
 
 And Winter's fetters bind with icy chain ; 
 Not less— the rosy-tinted, glowing morn 
 
 Must deepen into noon, and noon in turn 
 Pale, as the evening cometh to adorn 
 
 The skies with all her thousand lights, that burn 
 With steadfast radiance till the sun's bright ray 
 Once more shall usher in a new-born day. 
 
60 THE OOLDES WEDDING DAY. 
 
 But holding over all a magic power, 
 
 Bright'ning the shadows e'er they found a place, 
 Lighting the darkest clouds when tempests lower , 
 
 Smoothing the deepest furrows time can trace, 
 Gladd'ning with blossoms e'en the bleakest plain,' 
 
 Filling with beauty all — below — above ! 
 God sends a messenger earth's ills in vain 
 
 May strive to conquer, Love ! — immortal love ! 
 Ever undimmed its two-fold blessings shine, 
 Love that is human — Love that is divine ! 
 
 This Love, dear parents, e'er has watched your way, 
 
 Has journeyed with you fifty changeful years. 
 And brought you to your Golden Wedding day 
 
 Through smiling paths, though not unknown to tears. 
 This twofold Love ! which gives the furrowed cheek 
 
 The silvered hair, the trembling step and slow, 
 A dearer, sweeter eloquence to speak 
 
 Than youth's fair charms of fifty years ago ! 
 Tried in the furnace ! old, and yet not old, 
 Each link refined, of purest virgin gold. 
 
 It stood beside you in the long ago, 
 
 That far-off Summer's fresh and vernal prime. 
 
 When at God's altar, fervently and low% 
 
 You pledged the troth that neither death nor Time 
 
THE GOLDEN WEDDING DAl^ 01 
 
 Hath power to break; and as your untried feet 
 Pursued life's onward journey, at your side 
 
 It lingered still, made every labor sweet, 
 Your staff, support, your comfort and your guide ; 
 
 Till, looking backward through life's busy maze, 
 
 Present and Past lie in one golden haze. 
 
 On — ever onward — your advancing way. 
 
 Leaving the meadows and the flow'ry glades, 
 Up rugged steeps, thorn-strewn and rocky, lay ; 
 
 And low'ring storm clouds cast their lurid shades 
 Where bluest skies had smiled. Weary and worn, 
 
 But hand in hand, and owe in heart and will, 
 No care, no grief too great — together borne — 
 
 That heavenly Messenger was with you still, 
 Temp' ring the blast, the chilling blight, the cold, 
 And, won'drous alch'myl turning all to gold! 
 
 And children 'rose to call you blessed. Sons, 
 
 In whose young features wifely love could trace 
 Their Father's image. Daughters, gentle ones. 
 
 In whom might live again their Mother's grace. 
 When age had dimmed its freshness. Near — most near 
 
 To heart and soul — these blossoms of your life ; 
 But oh ! that other love — how far more dear ! 
 
 That sacred love of Husband and of Wife ! 
 Still yours, thank God ! though fifty years have told 
 From off Life's rosarv their beads of sold. 
 
62 THE GOLD EN WEDDING DAY. 
 
 And now the shadows lengthen to the west; 
 
 Life's steep ascent is o'er. The downward side 
 In tranquil beauty to the Vale of Rest 
 
 Slopes goldenly, e'en as the Summer tide 
 Glassing a sunset. Children gather 'round, 
 
 And children's children : every spirit bowed 
 With rev'rent thankfulness, e'en to the ground, 
 
 To Him whose mighty love, through storm and cloud, 
 For fifty years has smiled upon your way, 
 And blesses now your "Golden Wedding Day !" 
 
 — ^ 
 
foems of ITaney. 
 
I WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 I 
 
 N those grim old days lived a Baron, 
 Stern and stately and gloomy was he, 
 And he dwelt in his own feudal castle 
 
 Whose battlements looked to the sea. 
 No wife had this lonely old Baron : 
 
 The beautiful, gentle young bride 
 He had brought one fair morn to his castle 
 
 Soon withered and faded and died. 
 One daughter alone did she bear him — 
 
 He had longed for an heir to his race ; 
 And although she lay dying before him 
 
 He cursed her pale pitiful face, 
 And swore that the poor wailing infant 
 
 Was meet but to cast in the sea, 
 Till they hurried the child from his presence. 
 
 So wrathful and angry was he. 
 
66 / WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 
 
 Then f^ipoke the poor heart-l)rokeii mother, 
 
 " The paths of the workl I have trod ; 
 I would no* my daughter should tread them, 
 
 Oh I pray let me give her to God ! 
 •' Men are cruel ; oh ! promise me, sire. 
 
 No man you will ask her to wed ; 
 Let me think that the peace of the cloister 
 
 Will be her's when her mother is dead." 
 " So be it ; I care not. G — curse her." 
 
 '' You promise ! " the young mother cried ; 
 " God bless her! " and tenderly smiling 
 
 She turned on her pillow and died. 
 Years had passed, and the pitiless Baron 
 
 Still dwelt in his castle alone ; 
 While within the calm shades of the convent 
 
 The babe to a maiden had grown. 
 So fair and so wondrously lovely 
 
 'T was Heaven to look on her face ; 
 So spotless, no shadow of evil 
 
 Had dimmed her first baptismal grace. 
 Mid the lily and rose of the garden 
 
 She wandered the fairest of all ; 
 Awoke at the chime of the IMatins 
 
 And knelt at the Angelus' call. 
 Not a nun, e'en the gravest, but loved her, 
 
 And vet on her stern father's face 
 
I 
 
 / WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 67 
 
 Had she looked not .since that dreary morning 
 
 He had cursed her, the last of his race. 
 Christ like had her guardians taught her 
 
 To mingle his name with her prayer, 
 But she breathed it alone at the altar. 
 
 And even the echo died there. 
 And now it was Yule tide : at Easter 
 
 The maiden her first vows would plight, 
 And the thought in her soul woke a rapture 
 
 That filled her whole being with light. 
 She was decking the shrine of Our Lady 
 
 When a nun, with afright ashen gray, 
 The dread summons brought, " Child, your sire 
 
 Has come, and would take you away! " 
 In vain Avere the prayers of the maiden 
 
 And useless and vain were her tears, 
 And vain were the nun's gentle pleadings 
 
 For the child they had cherished these years. 
 Then up from her knees rose the maiden. 
 
 And she said as all firmly she trod : 
 " Farewell ! I will come back at Easter; 
 
 You know I am promised to God." 
 Then giving her hand to her sire, 
 
 Glanced upward one moment to pray. 
 And mounting the palfrey that waited. 
 
 The next she was off and away. 
 
68 / WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 
 
 Soon the walls of the dreary old castle 
 
 Frowned down from its lone sea-girt height, 
 And the twain silent rode in the court-yard 
 
 In the shade of the gathering night ; 
 For no word the young maiden had spoken 
 
 Since her sire had scoffed at her prayer, 
 And she sat proud and pale in the moonlight. 
 
 And he saw she was wondrously fair. 
 " By my soul ! " quoth he, " fortune has granted 
 
 To the bantling a beautiful face, 
 And she carries her honors right proudly. 
 
 As beseemeth the last of my race." 
 Days passed, and the poor lonely maiden 
 
 Pined and grieved in the lordly halls. 
 And sighed for the peaceful contentment 
 
 And calm of the convent walls. 
 Silks and jewels lay scattered around her, 
 
 Eare perfumes were breathed on the air. 
 But how could earth's glories and splendors 
 
 With the riches of heaven compare ! 
 At length one fell eve came her sire, 
 
 ''Arouse thee, child, rouse thee, I have guests 
 Don thy jewels, thy silks and thy laces. 
 
 It behooves thee to heed my behests." 
 And the maiden, all shrinking and trembling. 
 
 In silence the summons obeyed ; 
 
I WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 69 
 
 But ne'er at the head of a wassail 
 
 Sat so cold or so haughty a maid. 
 Yet there was a guest at the banquet, 
 
 A Prince in his own native land, 
 By her beauty and grace so enchanted 
 
 That he asked of her sire her hand. 
 
 II 
 
 Once more then the fair maiden pleaded 
 
 W here she thought to plead never again, 
 Once more were her sighs and her anguish 
 
 And her prayers and her tears all in vain. 
 Then she said : " My sire, I will not. 
 
 My mother lies under the sod. 
 And you know that dying she pledged me. 
 
 Most solemnly pledged me to God! " 
 Fearful then was the wrath of the Baron, 
 
 And fearful the oath that he swore, 
 ' If you pass not a bride o'er this threshold, 
 
 You shall cross it alive nevermore!'^ 
 Days lapsed into months, and the maiden 
 
 Still sat in her lone sea-drt tower, 
 
70 / WILL I^ETIRN AT EASIER TIDE. 
 
 But no promise or threat of the Baron 
 
 Could bring her to yield to his power; 
 And the stern icy fetters of winter 
 
 Had unclasped at the warm breath of spring, 
 And flowers were sprinkling the green sod 
 
 And birds were beginning to sing, 
 But no flush to the cheek of the maiden 
 
 The soft balmy breezes had brouglit, 
 And her beautiful eyes knew a brightness 
 
 From no earthly radiance caught. 
 Her roses had long ago faded, 
 
 A crushed, broken lily she lay; 
 And as she grew fainter and fainter 
 
 She felt-'she was passing away, 
 And longingly waited the summons, 
 
 For although short the way she had trod, 
 She was weary and yearned to be taken 
 
 To rest in the bosom of God. 
 One night, 'twas the night before Easter, 
 
 The Easter she 'd sighed for so long, 
 As she lay all alone in the darkness 
 
 And prayed to be patient and strong — 
 All at once strains of angelic music 
 
 Burst forth on the stillness of night. 
 And a flood of ineffable radiance 
 
 Illumed the chamber with light, 
 
I WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 71 
 
 And clad all in dazzling white garments, 
 
 A lily branch clasped in her hand, 
 And wearing a crown on her forehead, 
 
 A form at her bedside did stand. 
 " Dear child," softly whispered the vision, 
 
 "■ So patiently bearing the rod, 
 The prayer of your soul has been answered, 
 
 And Easter shall give you to God." 
 Morn came : cold and still lay the maiden, 
 
 All peacefully, calmly at rest, 
 A smile ling' ring o'er the pale features. 
 
 Her hands meekly crossed on her breast. 
 While hov'ring close over her pillow 
 
 Sat a fair dove all spotless and white ; 
 The awe struck and trembling attendants 
 
 Called their master in dire affright. 
 Ah ! stony the heart of the Baron 
 
 And evil the years he had passed, 
 But there in that still, silent presence 
 
 Remorse seized upon him at last. 
 " Bear her back to the cloister," he ordered ; 
 
 And slowly they wended their way 
 Down the steep, rugged hills to the valley 
 
 Where the Convent so peacefully lay. 
 The vesper-bell sweetly was chiming. 
 
 The evening star shone in the west ; 
 
72 / WILL RETURN AT EASTER TIDE. 
 
 It was well, she had come hack at Easter, 
 
 Had come back forever to rest. 
 But, oh ! from that day was the Baron 
 
 A wanderer over the earth. 
 And closed was his ancestral castle, 
 
 Deserted the halls of his birth. 
 But oft with shadows of evening 
 
 The beautiful dove might be seen, 
 Hov'ring over the high latticed casement 
 
 Which the maiden's long prison had been ; 
 And though years have passed, and the castle 
 
 Is moss grown and gone to decay, 
 The dove is still seen in the twilight 
 
 By the traveler passing that way. 
 
A REVERIE. 
 
 T was a calm and holy hour, 
 
 A scene of beauty rare and bright ; 
 The sun still lingered round each flower, 
 
 As loath that dark and silent night 
 Should cast her shrouding mantle o'er 
 
 A spot so beautiful, so fair ; 
 It seemed as Eden bloomed once more 
 Within this world of sin and care. 
 
 I gazed around, a lovely rose, 
 
 Lured by the sun, its cell had burst, 
 Its beauteous petals to disclose, 
 
 And now of flow' rets smiled the first ; 
 But lo ! while yet I looked intent 
 
 It slowly withered on the stalk, 
 Its once proud head now drooping bent, 
 
 Its leaflets strewed the garden walk. 
 
74 A REVERIE. 
 
 I sighed to think 't would bloom no more — 
 
 Then quickly cast a glance around, 
 Stretching the vaulted heavens o'er 
 
 A rainbow spanned their depths profound ; 
 It was indeed a lovely sight, 
 
 Its varied colors blent in one ; 
 I turned to say, "How fair, how bright! " 
 
 And looked again, but it was gone. 
 
 And, like that rose, some genial ray 
 
 May bid man's deep affections bloom ; 
 Yet bloom they but to pass away, 
 
 To perish in the silent tomb. 
 Fit emblem too of hopes that bow, 
 
 For though like it they radiant be. 
 Like it they charm us but to go, 
 
 And scarce are cherished ere they flee. 
 
 Thus mused I, sad to think a breath 
 
 Can blight earth's purest, deepest joy, 
 And that the end of all is death ; 
 
 Yet, must the tyrant all destroy ? 
 Ah no ! there 's one perennial flower, 
 
 One changeless bow unto us given — 
 The flower it blooms in Eden's bower. 
 
 The bow it spans the courts of Heaven. 
 
THE FADED FLOWER. 
 
 ?r. 
 
 1 TOO, my own one, have a faded flowei 
 ^ A withered rosebud, precious to my heart, 
 And fraught with mem'ries of the golden hour 
 When first I knew thee, dearest, as thou art. 
 
 That little bud, blest messenger from thee, 
 , First whispered fondly of thy changeless love, 
 First woke the chords of Hope's sweet minstrelsy 
 And bade my soul the light of gladness prove. 
 
 And yet I scarcely dared to heed its voice 
 Until, when Fate had placed me at thy side. 
 
 Thou told'st me I was e'er thy heart's first choice, 
 And hailed'st me gladly as thy promised bride. 
 
 Thou bad'st me let the simple flow'ret speak 
 Its emblematic meaning in my ear, 
 
 And when we parted, all in one short week. 
 My withered bud I watered with a tear. 
 
THE FADED FLOWER. 
 
 The stars beam calmly from the evening sky, 
 They speak to me of thee far, far away, 
 
 The gentle breeze goes softly whisp'ring by, 
 It breathes me, too, its sweetly saddened lay. 
 
 All, all are fraught with mem'ries of thee, 
 The breeze, the stars, but dearest to my heart 
 
 The bud, thy first love-ofiering to me. 
 The first that made me know thee as thou art. 
 
WHAT AKE THE STARS? 
 
 /J\H! what are the stars, dear mamma? said a child 
 ^-^ With a face so angelic, a blue eye so mild, 
 That she seemed like a creature of Heavenly biilh, 
 A something of Eden yet left us on earth. 
 Oh ! what are the stars that so brightly on high 
 Peep out midst the clouds of the pretty blue sky? 
 I am sure, dear mamma, they are looking at me. 
 And I wonder, I wonder— oh ! what can thev be ? 
 
 You know that you told me God lives up above. 
 The good God who keeps me from harm by his love; 
 That his glory for ever and ever will shine 
 And always the same, and you called it divine ; 
 And you said that his home was lovely and fair, 
 That his sun never sets, for night can not come there, 
 And sometimes when the stars are all shining so bright 
 I think they are beams of his glorious light. 
 
78 WHAT ABE THE STARS? 
 
 And, too, you once told me when talking of Heaven, 
 About the dear angels to whom God has given 
 Such beautiful wings and soft garments of white, 
 And you said when I lie on my pillow at night 
 That they always are hov'ring around as I sleep, 
 And that God sends them to me my slumbers to keep, 
 And so when the stars peep out from the skies 
 I think that perhaps they 're the dear angels' eyes. 
 
 And you know, long ago, when our dear Willie died 
 And was laid in the grave-yard by Grandmamma's side, 
 You said back to God baby brother was given. 
 And told me that dying meant going to Heaven. 
 So at night, when lying awake in my bed 
 And see the stars shining so bright overhead, 
 I think as I wonder, perhaps they may be 
 All dear little children thus looking at me. 
 
 Yes, I think of all this, dear mamma; am I right? 
 Are the stars really beams of God's glorious light ? 
 Are they bright angels' eyes ; are they children like me ? 
 And if not, dear mamma, pray what can they be ? 
 My darling, you ask me, her mother replied, 
 What to know must to mortals like us be denied ; 
 We know only God gives us the bright stars to shine, 
 And should thank for his blessings the Giver Divine. 
 
( 
 
 THE FKIENDS OF OTHER DAYS. 
 
 f^HOUGH Friendship'?^ smiles must ever bring 
 
 ^ A gladness o'er the heart, 
 A sweetnet-s o'er the spirit fling 
 
 From which 't is loath to part ; 
 Yet dearer far, more near to heaven 
 
 The feelings it doth raise, 
 Whene'er that look, that smile is given 
 
 By " friends of other days." 
 
 Though dear to us the ])leasure8 be 
 
 That come with after years. 
 Who can behold the past and see, 
 
 Without regretful tears, 
 Youth's pure, though swiftly fleeting joys? 
 
 And who that looks but says, 
 " Bright, though one touch of Time destroys. 
 
 The joys of other days ? " 
 
80 THE FRIENDS OF OTHER DAYS, 
 
 And though the hopes that fill our mind, 
 When life's spring-time is past, 
 
 More firmly seem with truth entwined, 
 And far more like to last 
 
 Than those bright visions of our youth, 
 Than those sweet siren days 
 
 Which once we deemed'were only truth- 
 Yet dear the hopes'of other days. 
 
A VALENTINE. 
 
 ^EAR one, I love thee! on thy gentle smile, 
 '^ Thy words of tenderness, I live the while ; 
 Though all the world smiles on me and thou not, 
 Their smiles in that owe frown would be forgot ; 
 And should'st thou smile, e'en though all others/roi^w, 
 A fadeless brightness still my heart would crown. 
 I love thee for thy true and noble heart, 
 The stamp of goodness ling'riug where thou art. 
 The calm reserve upon thy manly brow 
 That bids me honor and respect thee now ; 
 The winning smile that brightly now and then 
 Gleams forth to make me wish it back again. 
 The tender glance that thou hast sometimes cast 
 Upon me, dearest, as I softly pased. 
 And would I had the blest, the magic power 
 To change to light thine every darkened hour. 
 To bear alone thy heritage of care 
 And scatter joys around thee ev'rywhere. 
 But I have done, the love in ev'ry line 
 Will surely tell thee who 's thy Valentine. 
 6 
 
LINES. 
 
 Vp IFE is short and youth is fleeting 
 ^^ And the present and the past, 
 Hoary age and smiling childhood, 
 
 Are so closely linked at last, 
 That we wonder that the journey 
 
 So oft weary seemed between. 
 The " to be " seemed never ending, 
 
 But a span seems the " has been." 
 
MY ROOM. 
 
 '?B IS such a bright and cheerful room, 
 ^ The loving sunbeams stray 
 
 At morn the open window through 
 And linger there all day. 
 
 Here love and taste have nothing spared 
 
 My sanctum to adorn, 
 To make my Eden serpentless, 
 
 My rose without a thorn ; 
 
 The sober tinted walls are decked 
 
 With border rich and gay, 
 And neath my feet bright autumn tints 
 
 Their glowing hues display. 
 
 Chairs, cushion, table, e'en the lounge 
 
 Whereon I lay me down. 
 In mingled beauty all reflect 
 
 The crimson anil the brown ; 
 
84 MV ROOM. 
 
 And then my pictures, Artist eyes 
 Might fail their charms to see, 
 
 But words indeed were poor to tell 
 All they have been to me. 
 
 Blest Angel Faith ! beneath the cross, 
 With holy eyes upturned, 
 
 What lessons in my hours of pain 
 I 've looked on thee and learned ; 
 
 And casting downward still my eyes, 
 Bright characters of gold 
 
 And blue and red all deftly wrought 
 The precious truth unfold, 
 
 That "God is Love," and loving me, 
 He keeps me neath His care ; 
 
 I know no good He doth not give, 
 No grief He doth not share. 
 
 ' I 'd name them all, but even now 
 The darkness grows apace, 
 Yet for my desk I fain would claim 
 One last, one little place : 
 
 Deposit of my inmost thoughts, 
 
 My spirit's minstrelsy, 
 Friend, solace, refuge, counsellor, 
 
 Art thou, my desk, to me ! 
 
MV ROOM. 85 
 
 To thee alone I first poured forth 
 
 These musings on my room, 
 And we have called them into shape 
 
 From chaos and from gloom ; 
 
 And now before thee I will kneel 
 
 In thankfulness and prayer 
 To Him whose tender love hath made 
 
 My lines of life so fair, 
 
 And wondering, if our earthly homes 
 
 Can thus be made so bright, 
 What must the glorious mansions be 
 
 In His own land of light ! 
 
 ■^ 
 
BELLE. 
 
 tANY bells of many kinds 
 In man's pilgrimage he finds: 
 Fun'ral bells and wedding chimes, 
 Wailing notes and merry rhymes, 
 Morning bells and bells of eve 
 With the varied tones they leave, 
 Brazen tones of quick alarm, 
 Silvery bells whose tuneful charm 
 Steals like music on the ear, 
 Soft and low, yet sweet and clear ; 
 Church bells on the silent air, 
 Calling sinful man to prayer; 
 Christmas bells, so old yet young, 
 ''Peace and good will" on their tongue 
 And yet to none of these I write, 
 In praise of none these lines indite. . . 
 
BELLE. 87 
 
 ADother " Belle," whose form of grace, 
 Whose silvery tones and smiling face 
 My sweet inspiring theme shall be. 
 Though worthy loftier minstrelsy ; 
 No words its melody can tell. 
 More priceless is this magic ''Belle" 
 Than all the miser's hoarded pelf — 
 Fair girl, it is your own sweet self. 
 
MUSINGS. 
 
 f^IME passes swiftly, surely passes by, 
 
 ^ And one by one years drop into the past 
 And evening shadows dim the morning sky. 
 
 And withered hopes that were too fair to last 
 Like autumn leaves lie strewn upon our path ; 
 
 Youth's fairy visions crumble into dust 
 And summer seas grow billowy with wrath, 
 
 And change and death blight all our love and trust. 
 
 The wandering dove, that could no refuge find 
 
 Where she might rest and fold her weary wings. 
 Proved not the waste of waters more unkind 
 
 Than we shall find the wrecks of human things ; 
 Sin stalks about upon the fair green earth, 
 
 Invades each crevice, lingers everywhere, 
 And close upon the smiles that hail each birth 
 
 Is breathed the wail of anguish and despair. 
 
LOVE. 
 
 §H ! what is love ? a fading flower, 
 The fleeting virion of an hour, 
 The bow that decks the summer sky, 
 The passing breeze that flutters by, 
 A meteor flash across life's heaven, 
 A word, a promise idly given, 
 A strain of music come and gone. 
 Whose memory passeth with its tone, 
 A star that kindly beams a while 
 Then leaves us darker for its smile ; 
 Say, is this love ? 
 
 Ah, no ! Love is a quenchless flame. 
 Forever burning, still the same, 
 A fire that angel torches light 
 To cheer our life's long, gloomy night, 
 A sun that will around us cast 
 A flood of brightness to the last. 
 The dearest boon to us is given. 
 The radiance of reflected Heaven, 
 Which when death comes will brightly shine. 
 Losing the Human in Divine ; 
 Oh, this is love ! 
 
NEW YEAR'S DAY. 
 
 LL hail ! God bless this happy day ! 
 When once again we meet, 
 Although full many a year life's plain 
 
 Has crossed with noiseless feet 
 Since last around this festal board 
 
 With those we hold so dear, 
 We 've met, Love's double pledge to yield, 
 A mingled smile and tear. 
 
 Smiles for the joy that loving brings, 
 
 The pure and steadfast ray, 
 That e'en 'mid tempests and 'mid storms 
 
 It sheds across life's way ; 
 Tears for the griefs that even love 
 
 Has not the power to heal, 
 The care, the pain which soon or late 
 
 We one and all must feel. 
 
NEW YEAR'S DAY. 91 
 
 But we '11 forget the tears to-day 
 
 And court the smiles instead, 
 E-emembering Him who numbers e'en 
 
 The hairs upon our head; 
 His Providence has spared us all 
 
 In love and joy to meet 
 Upon this day, which we must e'er 
 
 With twofold pleasure greet. 
 
A THOUGHT. 
 
 ^0jIME passeth onward in his stern career, 
 ^ Destroying all of grace and beauty here ; 
 Hopes that are brightest but the soonest fade, 
 For those we love most first the grave is made ; 
 Youth's dream of bliss is all too quickly past. 
 But Sorrow's dream the longest life may last; 
 The wished for prize that eagerly we clasp 
 Must ever turn to ashes in our grasp ; 
 Our greatest treasures in the tomb must lie. 
 It is the lot of all to mourn — then die. 
 Yes, such is time, a sea of sullen gloom 
 Which bears us onward to our final doom. 
 Can we then grieve when it shall mingled be 
 With the calm ocean of eternity ? 
 
TO A FRIEND. 
 
 ONG has my spirit yearned, my friend, 
 To sing a song for thee, 
 To cast around our steadfast love 
 The grace of minstrelsy. 
 
 But golden silence seemed to be 
 
 More sweet than silver speech, 
 In voiceless eloquence to tell 
 
 The depths words could not reach. 
 
 Yet there are moments when the tide 
 
 Of feeling swells so strong 
 And full it fain must burst the bounds 
 
 And pour itself in song. 
 
 And thus it is with me to-night, 
 
 The love within my soul, 
 Made deeper by each passing year. 
 
 No more will brook control. 
 
THE RECORDING ANGEL. 
 
 /^NE morn, from Heaven's open gate 
 
 ^^ On pinion swift an Angel fair 
 
 Went forth and took, bent earthward straight, 
 
 His passage through the viewless air; 
 His purple pinions bathed in dew 
 
 Gleamed brightly in the rosy light, 
 While joy and hope were shining through 
 
 His radiant face and cheered his flight. 
 
 Thus spake this Heavenly spirit then : 
 
 " Blest be my mission here below, 
 To wander 'mid the haunts of men, 
 
 Their good deeds and their ill to know. 
 The ill I 'm sure I scarce will find, 
 
 For who a God so good and great 
 To grieve by sin could in his mind 
 
 Find thoughts so base consent await? 
 
THE RECORDING ANQEL. 95 
 
 "The good deeds they will many be, 
 
 Since surely there are none below 
 Who would not strive unceasingly 
 
 To please their God who loves them so." 
 Thus spake he, while e'en now he came 
 
 More near that earth he judged so wrong, 
 And prayed at length near where a flame 
 
 Eose high and lit the plain along. 
 
 Its fitful glare a bloody sight 
 
 Disclosed unto the passer by ; 
 It was a city sacked — the light 
 
 The victor's fire that blazed on high. 
 Here children's hands in wrath were raised 
 
 Against the sire that gave them birth, 
 And many cursed, while'Jew there praised 
 
 The Lord alike of heaven and eartli. 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed the Angel, " I must flee 
 
 From this sad scene of sin and woe ; 
 This bloodshed brings such grief to me, 
 
 I must in search of good deeds go 
 Which will blot out this fearful crime." 
 
 And on he sped, but still he found 
 Not yet the priceless gem, and time 
 
 Was spent when he was lured to ground. 
 
96 THE RECORDING ANGEL. 
 
 Scattered a sandy plain about 
 
 A band of horsemen paused to rest, 
 Each one with thirst appeared worn out, 
 
 And all of water set in quest. 
 But one cup could the soldiers find, 
 
 And this they near their leader set, 
 Though much did many in their mind 
 
 Wish e'en one drop their lips to wet. 
 
 He raised the cup unto his lips — 
 
 But looking, ere he drank, around. 
 The proffered nectar did not sip, 
 
 For, lying stretched upon the ground, 
 A dying soldier, saw he, look 
 
 With wistful eye toward the cup; 
 The draught to him he therefore took. 
 
 And raised him from his death sleep up. 
 
 "Here," said the Angel, "is a sight 
 
 On which I well may look with joy." 
 But scarce had he expressed delight 
 
 Than it was filled with deep alloy ; 
 The leader turned him round and said, 
 
 " 'T was not to save his life I gave. 
 But that when I have long been dead 
 
 My fame may live beyond the grave." 
 
THE RECORDING ANGEL. 97 
 
 With saddened heart the Angel heard, 
 
 A tear he dropped o'er fallen man ; 
 But hoping still, though long deferred, 
 
 His pilgrimage again began, 
 And just as twilight's shadows fell 
 
 O'er earth he lighted in a vale 
 AVhere all of calm and peace did tell, 
 
 And which he with new hope did hail. 
 
 He looked, a child whose golden hair 
 
 Flowed lightly on the passing breeze, 
 Whose rosy cheek and forehead fair 
 
 Rivaled the tints that roses seize, 
 Was lying there amid the flowers, 
 
 Its beauteous face all bathed in tears, 
 The traces of far sadder hours 
 
 Than should attend man's infant years. 
 
 And as it lay all lovely there 
 
 Without a shelter for its head, 
 A form almost as angel's fair 
 
 Bent o'er it as she sadly said : 
 " Sweet child, poor orphan, I will be 
 
 Thy mother; I will guard through life 
 Thy steps, that blessed eternity 
 
 May crown thy days of mortal strife. 
 
98 THE RECORDING ANGEL. 
 
 Then knelt she there on bended knee, 
 
 Implored that God would lend her aid 
 A mother to the child to be ; 
 
 And long and fervently she prayed, 
 The prayer, the deed the Angel caught, 
 
 To Heaven bore them upward he ; 
 He 'd found the priceless gem he sought. 
 
 That priceless gem was — "Charity." 
 
THE TUNELESS HARP. 
 
 M HARP all silent stood alone, 
 ^^'^ Hushed was its sweet melodious strain, 
 Its golden strings all glittering shone. 
 But gave no echo back again. 
 
 A lovely maiden wondering spoke, 
 The chords her fairy fingers swept, 
 
 The magic of her touch awoke 
 The melody so long had slept. 
 
 i^h ! like that tuneless harp my heart 
 Is mute, its life, its music flown, 
 
 Till she with love's own marvelous art 
 Shall bid it beat no more alone. 
 
FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 TOOK this album up to-day, 
 
 Which I have kept so long ; 
 But 'tis not always that our thoughts 
 
 Will breathe themselves in song. 
 Sometimes life is all prose : its depths 
 
 Lie hidden from our sight; 
 The moon is " but the moon and not 
 
 The "silvery Queen of Night." 
 
 The stars are simple stars, no more ; 
 
 The sun is hut the sun, 
 And flowers are flowers, and so of all 
 
 Earth's glories, one by one. 
 And as this prosy-mood has been 
 
 My own, dear friend, of late, 
 Methought, to write these lines you asked, 
 
 Perchance 'twere best to wait. 
 
FOR AN ALBUM. 101- 
 
 And I have waited till I fear 
 
 Your patience is worn out, 
 And you have marveled more than once 
 
 What I could be about. 
 So, though the muses linger yet 
 
 At such a dizzy height. 
 Up fair Parnassus' lofty mount 
 
 I dare not take my flight. 
 
 I'll fain essay a verse or two 
 
 Of prose, just set to rhyme, 
 If I can make my humdrum thoughts 
 
 In harmony to chime. 
 For after all I fear you '11 find 
 
 In life's advancing day, 
 Far more of prose than poetry 
 
 Along the weary way. 
 
 Fair poesy belongs to youth. 
 
 Which grasps the rainbow bright, 
 And views each object earth contains 
 
 In that prismatic light ; 
 While builds its airy castle high 
 
 Of jewels rich and rare. 
 And knows not they may fall, e'en while 
 
 We turn to say, " How fair ! " 
 
102 FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Prose comes with middle age, when fall 
 
 The shadows on the plain, 
 And clouds that e'er have smiled before 
 
 Let down their chilling rain ; 
 When glowing fruits we've longed to taste 
 
 Have proved but dust within, 
 And false the glitter of the gems 
 
 We 've risked our " all " to win. 
 
 Oh ! sad is this awakening from 
 
 The dream-life into real! 
 We love not the Ithuriel touch 
 
 That crushes our ideal. 
 We weary of the prose of life, 
 
 So fraught with care and pain, 
 And mourn the days, the halcyon days, 
 
 That may not come again. 
 
 But there 's an Alchemist Divine 
 
 Who can restore the gold. 
 Disclose the hidden grace that e'en 
 
 The plainest forms may hold ; 
 Build palaces which Time's rude touch 
 
 Hath not the power to blight, 
 And yield us gems that e'er shall shine 
 
 With pure translucent light. 
 
LINES. 
 
 f^HE sound of the clock is of silver, 
 ^ The tales of the hours are of gold, 
 And some day our heads shall lie lowly 
 When all of these tales have been told. 
 
 When the hairs of our heads shall be silver. 
 
 May the tales of our lives be of gold, 
 To brighten the crown that awaits us 
 
 When all of those tales have been told. 
 
 The days of the past they are silver, 
 The days of the present are gold ; 
 
 Who can tell what the enshrouded future 
 In its mystical depths may unfold ? 
 
A VALENTINE. 
 
 'ITH spring's fair skies and fairer flowers 
 Come tender thoughts and dreamy hours, 
 
 And poets sing in tuneful praise 
 
 The glory of these summer days ; 
 
 The little birdlings choose their mates, 
 
 And youths and maidens tempt their fates 
 
 By writing here and there a line 
 
 Unto their chosen Valentine. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 jIME change th all things, but it hath no sway 
 On friendship true that knoweth not decay ; 
 May or December, still alike 'twill bloom. 
 Youthful in age and deathless in the tomb; 
 Venomous tongues may blight but not destroy. 
 Even more faithful in sorrow than in joy, 
 Ruling our lives with a soft and gentle power. 
 Yet brave and fearless when storms and tempest lower 
 Best gift of God to us poor mortals giv^en. 
 Earth while it holds thee hath a glimpse of Heaven. 
 
J^yries of Qeath. 
 
MUST I GO? 
 
 And imist I go 
 Down to the realms of death below ? 
 
 Just as the earth, at Spring's soft breath, 
 Is waking from its wintry death 
 And trees are w4iite with blossom's snow— 
 Oh ! must I go ? 
 
 And must I go 
 Down to the realms of death below ? 
 Life seems so beautiful, so fair, 
 Sunshine and flowers everywhere, 
 And song-birds flitting to and fro — 
 Oh ! must I go ? 
 
 And must I go 
 Down to the realms of death below ? 
 I lean upon my husband's arm, 
 So long my stay, my shield from harm, 
 And cry — with tears that none may know- 
 Oh! must I go? 
 
108 MUST I GO? 
 
 And must I go 
 Down to the realms of death below ? 
 I gaze upon my dear child's face, 
 Fair in its youthful matron grace ; 
 My darling ! Oh, I love her so I 
 Oh ! rmist I go ? 
 
 And must I go 
 Down to the realms of death below ? 
 My dear grandboys, so full of glee, 
 Whose promise I shall never see 
 To fullness and to ripeness grow. 
 Oh ! must I go ? 
 ^ % ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Yes, I must go 
 Down to the realms of death below ; 
 
 This pain-racked frame, this panting breath, 
 These failing limbs, all whisper death — 
 These heart-beats, now so faint and slow. 
 Yes, I must go. 
 
 Yes, I must go 
 Down to the realms of death below ; 
 Leave all this beauty and this bloom 
 For the dark grave, the silent tomb ; 
 No summer sun for me shall glow. 
 Yes, 1 7nust go. 
 
MUST I GO? 109 
 
 Yes, I must go 
 Down to the realms of death below ; 
 But go where grief nor care, nor sin, 
 Nor weary pain may enter in. 
 To peace that earth could never know. 
 Yes, I must go. 
 
 Yes, I must go 
 Down to the realms of death below ; 
 But, when the river cold I cross, 
 Storm-beaten, weary, tempest tost, 
 Jesus will be with me I know ! 
 Yes, I must go. 
 
 Yes, I must go 
 Down to the realms of death below ; 
 But, on the steps of God's White Throne, 
 I'll wait for them, my loved, my own, 
 And guard their angel robes of snow\ 
 Yes, 1 must go. 
 
 Yes, I must go 
 
 Down to the realms of death below ; 
 But oh ! the glories of that place 
 Where I shall see Him " face to face": 
 
 The crown above, the cross below ! 
 
 Take me, dear Lord, I fain would go. 
 
WILL THE ANGELS LOVE LULU IN HEAVEN? 
 
 'f® WAS a sweet little girl, with her long golden hair 
 
 ^ Floating carelessly back on the waves of the air, 
 And a lovely blue eye with its mild softened beam, 
 And a cheek faintly tinged with the sunset's own beam ; 
 While her lily-white brow and the dress that she wore 
 Were but types of the pure, sinless heart that she bore. 
 
 As she thoughtlessly gazed on the cloudless blue sky, 
 Hung out like a broad unfurled banner on high, 
 There flitted a shadow across her young brow; 
 It came, and it w^ent, but 'tis resting there now, 
 As she turns on her mother her eyes' chastened light 
 And whispers, " The angels were with me last night. 
 
 " And dear, dear mamma, how I wish you could see 
 All the beautiful pictures they painted for me. 
 And how lovely they seemed with their soft shining wings, 
 Holding dear little harps all with bright golden strings ! 
 While they sang, oh ! so sweetly, ever seeming to say 
 Oh ! come, little Lulu, come with us away. 
 
WILL THE ANGELS LOVE LULU? Ill 
 
 " But I thought then how lonely I 'd be leaving you here, 
 
 With no little Lulu to kiss off each tear, 
 
 And how sad it would be at the hour of prayer 
 
 To call me in vain, for I could not be there ; 
 
 And I thought, may I tell you? if wings were me given. 
 
 Mamma, would the angels love Lulu in Heaven?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," she replied, while the tear drops fell fast 
 
 As her arm 'round her darling she tenderly passed, 
 
 " And the great God who dwells in the blue clouds above 
 
 Would watch o'er you and guard you with infinite love. 
 
 Then let us kneel, Lulu, together and pray 
 
 That He'll comfort your mother when you're called away." 
 
 Spring'shues passed away from the verdure-crowned bowers, 
 And the spirit-like child seemed to fade with the flowers. 
 As the snow-drop bows e'en to the zephyr's soft breath, 
 So passed she on, on to the shadow of Death ; 
 Till at length the last sigh of her pure heart was given. 
 And she dwelt with the angels who loved her in Heaven. 
 
THE SHADOW. 
 
 §H! the breadth and the lensrth of the shadow. 
 The wearisome shadow of Death ; 
 How it blots out our joy and sunshine, 
 
 How it burdens our grief-laden breath ! 
 How it clings like a pall to our rising, 
 
 How it broods o'er our moments of rest, 
 How it freezes the tears that would soften 
 The stony despair in our breast. 
 
 Who shall measure its terrible shadow, 
 
 As through the dim vista of years, 
 Weary years that are lying before us. 
 
 Stretching on, ever on, it appears, 
 Ever on to the limitless ocean 
 
 That washes Time's echoless shore. 
 Ever on until in the Eternal 
 
 The finite is lost evermore. 
 
THE DYING YEAR. 
 
 M^AR o'er the distant plain the wintry blast 
 -*'® Breathes its shrill requiem of the buried Past! 
 Now loud and fierce, now dirge-like in its tone, 
 Like to some struggling spirit's parting moan, 
 Each mournful echo whispering o'er and o'er 
 Of moments gone, to come back never more, 
 Weary and sea-beat by Time's stormy wave. 
 The old year totters onward to his grave ; 
 His fleeting hours have one by one before 
 Him passed unto the far-off silent shore, 
 Upon whose solemn verge he lingers now 
 With hoary head and furrowed, care-worn brow. 
 The twinkling stars in all their glory rise 
 To light the arches of the vaulted skies, 
 And keep their vigil like some faithful friend 
 Who Avaits unwearied even to the end, 
 Burning unchanged through all the ages past 
 And shining e'er the brightest at the last.. 
 The flickering flame of life's decaying fire 
 Bursts forth once more ere yet it can expire, 
 And the old year recalls his sacred trust 
 Ere yet his name shall crumble with the dust ; . 
 For deeds of fame the parting year hath wrought 
 With deep, far-reaching, solemn import fraught. 
 
THE DOVE AND THE RAVEN. 
 
 /JNNCE a gentle Dove sat brooding 
 ^^ In a Southern forest dim, 
 And its low notes mingled sweetly 
 
 With the songster's choral hymn ; 
 And oh ! wondrous was the shadow 
 
 Of its outspread wings of snow, 
 And oh! wondrous Avas the beauty 
 
 Of the land that slept below. 
 
 Shadow that was all of sunshine, 
 
 Sunshine, blessing, and repose ; 
 Land where orange and where myrtle 
 
 Blent their fragrance with the rose : 
 Oh ! the peaceful, vine-wreathed dwelling 
 
 Of the blooming Southern land ; 
 Oh ! the lightsome hearts and foot-steps 
 
 Of the happy household band ! 
 
THE DOVE AND THE RAVEN. 115 
 
 Smiling forest, flowing river, 
 
 Dim and scented orange grove, 
 Calmly resting 'neath the radiant 
 
 Shadow of the white-winged Dove. 
 Then athwart the still, blue heaven 
 
 Spread a lowering, threatening cloud ; 
 Thunders muttered in the distance, 
 
 Loud and louder, yet more loud. 
 
 Lightnings flashed, the storm grew wilder, 
 
 Gathering fierceness as it passed. 
 Till it burst in all its fury 
 
 O'er the sunny land at last. 
 O'er the river, through the forest. 
 
 On and on the storm-fiend sped. 
 Where the radiant Dove sat brooding 
 
 Croaked a Raven in its stead. 
 
 Where are now the peaceful dwellings? 
 
 Where the careless household band ? . ; . . 
 Crumbling walls and blackened chimneys 
 
 In the groves of myrtle stand. 
 Sighing night-winds wake no echo, 
 
 Solemn stillness reigns profound ; 
 Heart grows faint and eye grows weary 
 
 At the ruin scattered round. 
 
IIP. THE DOVE AND THE RAVEN. 
 
 But the voices, merry V(»ices, 
 
 That resounded here of yore, 
 And the footsteps, lightsome footsteps, 
 
 Lingering at the open door. 
 Where are they? . . . The voiceless night-winds 
 
 Seems to stilly answer " Where ? " 
 And the Raven's distant croaking 
 
 Dismal fills the ev'ning air. 
 
 Where the broad and flowing river 
 
 Passes onAvard to the main, 
 Darkly tinged its rushing current 
 
 With the life-blood of the slain ; 
 Where the stifling smoke of battle 
 
 Lingers on the blasted plain, 
 Where uncounted braves have fallen 
 
 Who shall never rise again ; 
 
 Where the shrieks and groans of dying 
 
 Friends and foemen rent the air, 
 There amid tlie blcod and carnage, 
 
 There, the lightsome ones are there ! 
 White and silent in the moonlight. 
 
 Face upturning to the sky. 
 Sternly telling how he battled, 
 
 Does the gray-haired sire lie ! 
 
THE DOVE AND THE RAVEN. 117 
 
 White and silent in the moonlight, 
 
 Life departed, battle won, 
 Smiling lies the youthful warrior — 
 
 Only brother, only son ! 
 When the bitter, bitter Availing 
 
 Of the broken heart is heard. 
 Where the w^idow pleads all vainly 
 
 For one word, one parting word I 
 
 Where the mother kneels in anguish 
 
 By her son's ensanguined bier, 
 Where the smiling face of childhood 
 
 Wears the mask of grief and fear. 
 There, amid these scenes of sorrow, 
 
 Mortal sorrow and despair, 
 Pallid, woe-worn, stricken mourners — 
 
 There, our lightsome ones are there ! 
 
 Oh ! the dismal, dismal croaking 
 
 Of the dark, ill-omened bird ! 
 When, oh, when will it no longer 
 
 On these blood-stained fields be heard ?- 
 To that stricken land of sorrow 
 
 Fly and bid the conflict cease, 
 Spread thy snowy pinions o'er it — 
 
 Oh, thou radiant Dove of Peace I 
 
118 THE DOVE AND THE RAVEN. 
 
 Fly ! and Heaven bless thy mission ; 
 
 Like the Dove of sacred lore 
 Bear the olive-branch, enfold it 
 
 In thy shadow evermore. 
 Greet, oh ! greet that band of heroes, 
 
 Battling bravely, though in vain : 
 Crowned with laurels? green and deathless 
 
 Won from many a hard-fought plain. 
 
DEATH. 
 
 ^TERN is thy mission here, O Death! 
 "^A killing blight is in thy breath ; 
 Youth, age and manhood pass away, 
 All must thy summons stern obey, 
 E'en in our festive hours thou'rt near 
 Forever whispering in our ear : 
 " Oh, man, thou art but dust, and learn 
 That unto dust thou shalt return." 
 So speaks the Atheist, but oh ! 
 The Christian spirit speaks not so. 
 Death ! he says, blest is thy sway, 
 The dawn thou art of perfect day. 
 
MANASSAS. 
 
 <^TARS of my country ! ye are dim, ye are dim ! 
 ^^ Your glory is shrouded in smoke and in blood; 
 The voice of wailing is blent with your hymn, 
 
 And shadows are falling o'er land and o'er flood. 
 Stars! that so long and so brightly have shone, 
 
 The beacon of freedom to lands o'er the main. 
 Leading millions and millions to liberty on. 
 
 Your light hath gone down on Manassas' red plain. 
 
 Unrighteous the conflict ! unholy the strife ! 
 
 Unworthy the sires of Bunker Hill fame ! 
 Unworthy the hero whose patriot life 
 
 Hath left us immortal his glorious name ! 
 Oh ! Victory herself must turn pallid and weep, 
 
 And cypress spring up where the laurel should grow 
 For the conqueror's hand must in kindred blood steep, 
 
 And brother meet brother as deadliest foe. 
 
MANASSAS. 121 
 
 Manassas ! Manassas ! thou field of despair I 
 
 What a watch -word of woe must thy gory plain be ! 
 What thousands of homes were made desolate there, 
 
 What hopes, what affections were buried in thee ! 
 The wife weeps for him who may never more come, 
 
 And parents bow low o'er the wreck of thy pride, 
 And childhood's tears flow in the still darkened home, 
 
 Yet not one can say, " For his country he died." 
 
 Ah, no! 'tis unblest and inglorious strife, 
 
 And even the victor must share in the shame ; 
 Even those who all bravely have yielded their life 
 
 Must sink all uncrowned by the laurels of Fame ! 
 Yes ! the South should have bearded oppression and wrong 
 
 In the Halls of the Senate and not on the plain. 
 Ere she sundered the bonds once so shining and strong, 
 
 Which may never, alas! be united again. 
 
 Then the tyrant who rules with such limitless sway 
 
 Would scarcely have dared raise his voice so loud, 
 Nor Destiny's fingers been busied to-day 
 
 In weaving for Freedom, bright Freedom, a shroud. 
 But 't is done, it is done ; it is vain to regret 
 
 That our star-spangled banner trails low in tl-e dust, 
 And the place of the hero we reverence yet 
 
 Is filled by a minion unworthy of trust. 
 
122 MANASSAS. 
 
 It is vain to regret, but it is not too late 
 
 To list to the lesson Manassas hath taught, 
 That the ^^outh yields not blindly or tamely to fate ; 
 
 Stop, brothers, aghast at the ruin ye've wrought! 
 The Union is severed, then part, and part here, 
 
 The God whom ye worship, Himself bids ye cease ; 
 In friendship clasp hands o'er our fair country's bier, 
 
 The blood of the slain cries for " Peace, give us peace !" 
 
I 
 
 TO BE, TO BLOSSOM, AND TO DIE." 
 
 (0 be, to blossom, and to die," 
 Read in the fallen leaves that round us lie, 
 Borne hither, thither by the north wind's strife, 
 This sad epitome of human life ! 
 The lightnings flash and vanish as we glance, 
 The stars that gem the heaven's vast expanse 
 Scarce in their quiet midnight beauty rise 
 Ere they must fade before the morning skies. 
 
 The sunset clouds, with all their rich array 
 
 Of red and gold, pass into twilight gray ; 
 
 The flowers we love scarce charm us with their bloom 
 
 Ere they too wither 'neath the common doom; 
 
 All forms of loveliness bespeak decay, 
 
 The ripest fruit is ever first to fall. 
 
 Perfection is the presage of the pall. 
 
124 "70 BE, TO BLOSSOM, AND TO DIE." 
 
 " To be, to blossom, and to die I" 
 
 Oh can it be that loving hearts whose sigh 
 
 Gives back our oWn, whose pulses throb with ours, 
 
 Must share this sentence with the stars, the flowers? 
 
 That eyes which glance responsive to our own, 
 
 That lips which echo e'en our spirit's tone, 
 
 Hands that we warmly, fondly clasp to-day. 
 
 Must with the coming morrow pass away ? 
 
 Yes, even so ; e'en the brightest star, 
 The fa,irest flower, the cloud that from afar 
 Bears most of Heaven, but the soonest fades. 
 So with the heart's affections : Phantom shades 
 Come from the dark, dread valley, cold and gray, 
 Laden with death, with blighting and decay. 
 And chilling mists that all too soon are pressed 
 Around our dearest, noblest, and our best. 
 
 -^* 
 
LITTLE DELL. 
 
 Ty ITTLE Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 ''^ Laughing eyes like bluest bell, 
 Lips of coral, brow of snow, ^' 
 Cheeks where(ui the roses blow. 
 Baby graces, sweet to tell — 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 Sunbeam o'er our path that fell, 
 Smiling, cooing, fair to see, 
 Eeaching dimpled arm to me, 
 Dimpled arms I loved so well — 
 Little Dell I Little Dell ! 
 
 Little Dell! Little Dell! 
 Eyes like closing asphodel. 
 Lips apart, and golden head 
 Lightly pressing cradle bed, 
 Softly breathing slumbers spell — 
 Little Dell! Little Dell! 
 
126 LITTLE DELL. 
 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 Polished limbs like ocean shell, 
 Crowing, splashing silver spray 
 In the morning bath at play, 
 Pure as drops that round him fell — 
 Little Dell! Little Dell! 
 
 Little Dell! Little Dell! 
 Came a guest I may not tell ; 
 Laughing eyes forever hid 
 Underneath the fringed lid, 
 Sunny eyes we loved so well — 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 
 . Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 
 Blinding tear drops rise and swell I 
 Pale and chill the lily blows 
 Where so lately bloomed the rose, 
 Precious bud that early fell — 
 Litth: Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 Seraph bands a choral swell ; 
 See ive but a mossy bed, 
 Daisies o'er a golden head 
 Springing where our tear drops fell- 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 
LITTLE DELL. 127 
 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 Gone with angels bright to dwell ; 
 Nestled in the Savior's breast, 
 Early called, and early blest 
 With a bliss no tongue can tell — 
 Little Dell ! Little Dell ! 
 
 ^ 
 
FULL OF YEARS. 
 
 SULL of years ! " Long hadst thou journeyed, 
 ^'^ Sainted mother — "full of years" — 
 Now o'er pathways rough and stony, 
 
 Strewn with thorns and not with tears ; 
 Now through flowery, smiling valleys. 
 
 And anon o'er rugged hills, 
 Blessing God amid life's pleasures. 
 
 Trusting Him amid its ills. 
 
 "Full of years ! " Time's silvery frost-^vork 
 
 Long had rested on thy hair. 
 And his deep'ning lines and furrows 
 
 Long had seamed thy forehead fair. 
 Long youth's morning time had faded 
 
 In the dark'ning gloom of night. 
 But amid the gathering shadow^s 
 
 Turn'dst thou ever to the light. 
 
FULL OF YEARS. 129 
 
 " Full of years ! " Thy loved had fallen 
 
 By the wayside, one by one, 
 Husband, children, friends of childhood. 
 
 Few were left and many gone; 
 But the golden chain that bound thee 
 
 Heart to heart unto them here, 
 Brightening only seemed to draw thee 
 
 Heavenward as the end drew near. 
 
 "Full of years!" Life's journey ended, 
 
 All its weary mile-stones passed. 
 Angels lovingly have borne thee, 
 
 Where thy hopes were anchored fast. 
 To the bosom of thy Savior, 
 
 To his blessed realms of light; 
 Blessed realms that know no parting, 
 
 Know no shadow, know no night. 
 
THE MERCILESS WATERS, 
 
 iHERE'S a stillness and hush in the spring-time, 
 A stillness and hush in the heart, 
 A dark brooding cloud o'er the sunshine, 
 
 Too gloomy and dread to depart! 
 We heed not earth's sweet vernal beauty, 
 
 We hear not its anthem of praise, 
 Nor mark we its fresh springing blossoms, 
 Nor list to its wild forest lays. 
 
 One echo is haunting us ever, 
 
 One vision is mocking our eyes. 
 Absorbing each musical cadence, 
 
 Blotting even the sun from the skies. . . . 
 'Tis the roll of the swift-flowing waters. 
 
 The roar of the dark ocean waves 
 Rushing onward forever and ever. 
 
 Deep, deep, from the fathomless caves. 
 
THE MERCILESS WATERS. 131 
 
 'T is the vision of palms in the sunshine, 
 
 Reaching feathery heads to the sky, 
 Unheeding the foam-crested billows, 
 
 Moaning ceaselessly, restlessly by. 
 Oh, palm-trees! Oh, beautiful palm-trees! 
 
 Why stood ye so stately and still, 
 Looking down on the terrible struggle 
 
 That our hearts with such anguish doth fill ? 
 
 Oh, waters! Oh, merciless waters! 
 
 Why claimed ye our noblest and best? 
 Why bore ye our idol, our treasure, 
 
 Away on your treacherous breast? 
 Down, down to your depths you have gathered 
 
 Full many a true heart and brave; 
 Then could you not spare our beloved. 
 
 Our dear one, oh pitiless wave ? 
 
 No answer! On, onward, still onward, 
 
 Flows ever resistless your tide. 
 Nor recks that it bears on its bosom 
 
 Our joy, our hope and our pride! 
 You have treasures uncounted, grim Ocean, 
 
 And myriad jewels so bright 
 Til at even your shadowy caverns 
 
 Must sparkle and flash with their light. 
 
132 THE MERCILESS WATERS. 
 
 With the ruins and wrecks e'en of ages 
 
 These mystical grottoes are strewn, 
 For many a rich -freighted vessel 
 
 You have ruthlessly claimed for your own ; 
 And heads that are whitened and hoary 
 
 Lie low on your damp, rocky bed, 
 Side by side with the locks that are golden, 
 
 All sleeping the sleep of the dead. 
 
 What matter that mothers are kneeling 
 
 With quick-throbbing heart to implore 
 God's mercy and care for the darlings 
 
 They know not may come nevermore? 
 What matter that fond wives are watching 
 
 With tear-blinded eyes the far main. 
 And souls growing faint with the longing 
 
 To welcome their dear ones again? 
 
 Though their hearts bleed and break in their anguish 
 
 On, on in your billowy path. 
 Unheeding, uncounting 3''our victims, 
 
 You sweep in your merciless wrath. 
 But the hecatombs even of ages 
 
 Appease you not, still not your roar : 
 Forever unresting, unsated. 
 
 You clamor for more and yet more ! 
 
THE MERCILESS WATERS. 133 
 
 But oh I can it be that our treasure 
 
 Has gone to your fatal embrace ? 
 Oh, give him back, Ocean ! we 're pining 
 
 For one precious glimpse of his face. 
 Give him back ! See — our poor hearts are breaking ! 
 
 Give him back ! he is ours — our own ! 
 Give him back! .... God ! is there no answer 
 
 Save the rushing wave's sad monotone ? 
 
 None ! The sea never yields up its treasure, 
 
 Locked fast in its fathomless caves. 
 Till He speaks who commands e'en the tempests, 
 
 The storms and the winds and the waves — 
 The Savior — the merciful Savior ! 
 
 Let lis trust in Him — bow to his will — 
 Till His voice the heart's troubled waters 
 
 Shall sweetly bid, "Peace! be ye still." 
 
HEAVENWARD. 
 
 ^JNAY is waning — and the sunbeams 
 '^ With a lingering glory fall 
 On a picture that is hanging 
 
 Just before me on the wall, 
 And with radiance of heaven 
 
 Do they crown, methinks, the face, 
 Strangely mingled with a touching, 
 
 Noble, loving human grace ! 
 
 Hair but slightly touched Avitli silver, 
 
 Forehead broad and full and high. 
 Mouth of firmness blent with sweetness. 
 
 Piercing bright yet tender eye, 
 Look upon me from the canvas, 
 
 Where the lights and shadows fall. 
 Till it seems a living picture 
 
 Just before me on the wall. 
 
HE A YEN WA RD. 1 35 
 
 And I sit here gazing, musing, 
 
 While the daylight fades apace, 
 But through all the gathering darkness 
 
 Still I see that perfect face ; 
 It hath lines of pain and sorrow, 
 
 Pain and sorrow bravely borne ! 
 It bespeaks one who, though conquering, 
 
 Yet hath known to weep and mourn. 
 
 And the lips which oft have parted 
 
 Both to comfort and to pray, 
 Seem to speak again their watchword : 
 
 Heavenward, child ! raethinks they say ! 
 Heavenward ! heavenward ! Clouds may shroud thee 
 
 In the starless gloom of night. 
 Hasten I hasten to the kingdom 
 
 Of the never-fading light. 
 
 Heavenward ! heavenward ! Thorns may prick thee, 
 
 Press thee closer on thy way, 
 God is ever near to guide thee, 
 
 And His staff will be thy stay. 
 Heavenward! heavenward! Earthly burdens 
 
 Must at last be all laid down ; 
 Long not, yearn ye not to change them 
 
 For a bright, a glorious, crown ? 
 
NOT DEAD, BX^T SLEEPETH. 
 
 '•Hegiretli His Bt loved Sleep." 
 
 'W^ES! fold the patient, weary hands, 
 
 ^ Bring hither robes of white, 
 But gently, softly, silent tread, 
 She fain would rest to-night. 
 
 Flowers, ay ! She loved them, let them then 
 
 Upon her pillow rest, 
 Lie loosely in her silent clasp 
 
 And on her spotless breast. 
 
 Smooth back the mass of waving hair 
 
 From off the peaceful brow. 
 With pain and suffering lined no more, 
 
 'Tis crowned with glory now. 
 
 How still, how fair, how pure she looks, 
 
 How dreamless in her sleep, 
 We almost hear the angel wings 
 
 That o'er her vigil keep. 
 
 But will she wake again? oh, will 
 
 Those loving, tender eyes 
 Return once more our yearning glance, 
 
 Greet us with glad surprise? * 
 
yOT DEAD, BUT SLKEPETH. 137 
 
 Those lips, those hands whose ministry- 
 Was e'er to love and bless — 
 
 Oh ! will they meet our own again 
 In clinging, fond caress. 
 
 She is so still ! We hear no sound ; 
 
 We list! we catch no breath — 
 No tint upon the pallid cheeks. 
 
 O God ! can this be "death?" 
 
 * -se •«■ 45- * 4f * 
 
 "Death? No, my child! Death hath no power 
 
 Such sinless souls to keep, 
 But weary of earth's care and pain, 
 
 My loved, I give them sleep." 
 
 "Sleep, whose awakening sweet, how sweet! 
 
 Is on My sacred breast. 
 Where, folded in My sheltering arms. 
 
 They evermore shall rest. 
 
 "Sleep! which shall gently waft them o'er 
 
 The river broad and fair, 
 That laves My great Eternal Throne 
 
 And flows forever there. 
 
 " Not dead ? Oh, no ! The pastures green 
 
 Her feet already tread. 
 The living waters she has quaffed — 
 
 She sleeps — she is not dead." 
 
DEAR LITTLE MARGIE. 
 
 tJ\EAR little Margie! Beautiful Margie, 
 ^ Pure as the snowdrop on Spring's vernal breast, 
 Fair as the angels ! early they 've called thee, 
 Called thee away to the land of the blest. 
 
 Dear little Margie! Fond little Margie, 
 
 Closed are the eyes, blue witli light from above, 
 
 Still the wee fingers, whose clinging touch lingers 
 Yet on our cheek with its pressure of love. 
 
 Dear little Margie! Gay little Margie, 
 
 Filling our home with thy sunshine and mirth, 
 
 Hushed is forever the song that shall never 
 Die in our hearts till we die from the earth. 
 
 Dear little Margie ! Snowy-robed Margie, 
 Smooth are the curls on thy fair baby brow, 
 
 Folded 'mid flowers the hands that were ours, 
 Hands that are clasping the cherubim's now. 
 
DEAR LITTLE MARGIE. 139 
 
 Dear little Margie ! Frail little Margie, 
 Earth was too cold for a blossom like thee, 
 
 Far from its blighting, its chilling, its smiting. 
 Early the Savior has bidden thee flee. 
 
 Dear little Margie ! Angelic Margie, 
 
 Where never can enter earth's shadows and gloom, 
 In God's beautiful garden, Himself for thy warden, 
 
 Each sweet baby grace into glory shall bloom. 
 
 And God is but keeping thee, Margie, our Margie, 
 For us, till like thee from earth's prison we rise. 
 
 And worthy to meet thee, with joy to greet thee. 
 To part, oh, no more ! in the beautiful skies. 
 
 — 1^ 
 
'' NO MORE PARTING." 
 
 M[ O more parting ! " Dear one, tell us, 
 J^ On that solemn, silent shore, 
 Can it be that we shall meet you, 
 Meet you, and to " part no more? " 
 
 " No more parting ! " Oh, beloved one ! 
 
 Life is dark since you have gone, 
 Shadows dim the bright horizon, 
 
 Sorrow blends with every tone. 
 
 Would youTjnow when most we miss you ? 
 
 In the early morning light. 
 In the deep'ning glow of noontide, 
 
 In the loneliness of night, 
 
 Ever, ever mournful voices 
 
 Breathe your name upon the air; 
 
 We are lonely, lonely, darling, 
 Can you smile upon us there ? 
 
"iVO MORE parting:' 141 
 
 List! e'en now your angel spirit 
 
 Whispers softly from above, 
 "Trust, oh, trust your Father's nie'cy, 
 
 Know ye not that God is love?" 
 
 He is calling; come ye to him, 
 
 To that shining golden door 
 Into which, when ye shall enter, 
 
 We shall meet to "part no more." 
 
 r 
 
^'TWIN BLOSSOMS." 
 
 ^^ID you see our two beautiful blossoms! 
 ^^ Twin rosebuds, so pure and so white, 
 Dropped down from God's heavenly gardens 
 
 To make our home lovely and bright? 
 Did you see how we loved and caressed them 
 
 Soft, oh ! softly our kisses were given. 
 For of all our home's sweet, living flowers, 
 
 These were latest, and freshest from heaven. 
 
 Did you mark how, each day, was unfolded 
 
 Some new dawning beauty or grace, 
 Till we thought we could picture the angels 
 
 As we gazed on each dear baby face ? 
 Ah ! that was the season of blooming ; 
 
 But there came, too, a season of blight, 
 And our blossoms, our beautiful blossoms. 
 
 Shrank and wilted beneath its stern mijiht. 
 
^^TWIN BLOSSOMS." 143 
 
 Pale and paler — how pale grew their roses, 
 
 Till the lily was left all alone, 
 And the smile of their coral lips faded 
 
 Till 'twas lost in a low plaintive moan. 
 Their eyes, but so late taught to brightness, 
 
 And give baclc the love-light of ours, 
 Now were languid and listless and drooping 
 
 As our flowers, our sweet budding flowers. 
 
 Oh, buds, precious buds! intertwining 
 
 Till they seemed but one blossom, one life! 
 How we struggled and prayed for our treasures 
 
 Till our poor hearts grew faint in the strife! 
 Little thought we that they could be severed, 
 
 Sent as one from the gardens above, 
 And we left so sad and so lonely, 
 
 With but half of our blossom to love. 
 
 But the angel that hovered around them. 
 
 Reaching forth, gathered one — precious one! 
 Then, pausing in pity, he whispered : 
 
 " Peace ! Peace be to you ! I have done ! 
 I have parted your beautiful blossom ; 
 
 One half to my Master I bear, 
 But, listing the voice of your anguish, 
 
 The other- I leave to your care." 
 
144 ^'TWJN BLOSSOMSr 
 
 Then plumed he his snowy-white pinions, 
 
 But we saw not their heavenly grace, 
 For we felt, only felt he was bearing 
 
 Our babe from our yearning embrace ! 
 There 's a low narrow mound in the churchyard, 
 
 A smooth, empty crib in the room, 
 And 'tis hard, oh ! so hard to remember 
 
 That our blossom in heaven doth bloom. 
 
 When the dear tiny hands that are left us 
 
 Entwine, oh ! so softly, our own, 
 We can not but sigh for the others 
 
 Clasped in love at the heavenly throne ! 
 W^hen, clad in his flowing white garments, 
 
 We strain our dear babe to our breast, 
 How our aching heart longs for the other 
 
 That is wearing the robes of the blest. 
 
 But, oh ! when the years, rolling onward, 
 
 Have left far behind in their flight 
 The morning, life's beautiful morning. 
 
 With its freshness and roseate light, 
 When the noon-day of life to this darling 
 
 Is bearing its dangers and cares, 
 Then will not our hearts be all thankful 
 
 That the other is safe from its snares ? 
 
''TWIN BLOSSOMS." 145 
 
 Oh, yes! we '11 rejoice that sorrow, 
 
 Temptation, or danger, or sin. 
 His abode, the abode of the blessed, 
 
 May never at all " enter in ; " 
 And the treasure that's left to our keepinji;, 
 
 We '11 pray God to guide it aright 
 Till our blossom— on earth now severed — 
 
 Shall bloom again one in His sight. 
 
THE MOONLIT GRAVE. 
 
 (^EE! the evening- star is rising 
 *^ In tFie moonlit autumn sky, 
 Moving slowly, slowly onward 
 
 As the mournful train goes by — 
 Onward still, until it pauses 
 
 Just above a new-made grave, 
 Where the birds sing in the summer 
 
 And the weeping willows wave. 
 
 " Dust to dust!" Our dearest treasure 
 
 Earth has taken to her breast, 
 And the evening star sinks slowly, 
 
 Slowly, silently to rest. 
 Precious star ! wert thou an angel 
 
 Sent to bid our souls "look up" 
 To His throne, who, though all mercy, 
 
 Offers us this bitter cup? 
 
THE MOONLIT GRA VK. 147 
 
 We will humbly try to drink it, 
 
 Trusting Him who died to save, 
 Though our earthly hopes lie buried 
 
 In that grave, that moonlit grave. 
 Fare thee well, then, O beloved ! 
 
 Gone, forever gone — but yet 
 We may one day meet and know thee 
 
 Where the stars shall never set. 
 
 -# f 
 ^y^ 
 
''TWO." 
 
 /^ SUMMER winds ! breathe soft and low 
 ^-^ O Summer sunshine! veil your beam; 
 A mock'ry to our bitter woe 
 
 Your fragrance and your brightness seem. 
 And hide, ye blue and smiling skies — 
 
 Oh ! hide behind the storm clouds gray ; 
 One broken life before us lies, 
 
 So cold, so chill, so drear to-day. 
 
 We grope all blindly for the light, 
 
 We cry aloud, but cry in vain : 
 Like echoes of the silent night 
 
 Our anguished wail comes back again. 
 We can not hear the angel wings 
 
 Or see the hosts beyond the waves ; 
 Day-dawn or night, "oize" vision brings — 
 
 Our graves, O God ! our little graves! 
 
^TWO." 149 
 
 "Two!'' — God have mercy on u?*! — "two!'' 
 
 "Two!" — of our very lives a part: 
 Fair buds, that unto beauty grew, 
 
 With roots implanted in our heart ; 
 Oh ! when we call our household band 
 
 Around us at the evening hour, 
 How can we yield to Thy demand 
 
 Our op'ning and our closing flower! 
 
 Our first — our last — beginning — end! 
 
 Oh! Thou, dear Lord, and only Thou 
 Canst aught of light and comfort send ; 
 
 Teach us, we pray Thee, teach us how 
 To learn submission to our loss. 
 
 And at Thy feet bow humbly down, 
 Till Thou one day shall take the cross 
 
 And give us in exchange the crown ! 
 
 " Two ! "—God of Mercy !— angels " two ! " 
 
 "Two" shining stars whose heav'nly light 
 Shall pierce this midnight darkness through 
 
 And put these clinging shades to flight; 
 "Two" golden links in that bright chain 
 
 That day by day shall brighter be, 
 And e'en through suff^'ring and through pain 
 
 Draw us the "nearer, God, to Thee!" 
 
160 "7^iro.» 
 
 "T2V0'' lambs forever safe, secure 
 
 111 the Good Shepherd's peaceful fold; 
 "Two" op'niiig blossoms, spotless, pure. 
 
 Snatched from earth's blighting and its cold; 
 " Two " voices mingling in the song 
 
 Chanted before Thy Throne above : 
 Grant us to " suffer and be strong," 
 
 And guard us with a "two" fold love. 
 
THE NUN'S REWARD. 
 
 '* M^IFTY years!" Angelic voices 
 ^® Swell the echo : " Fifty years ! " 
 Through the sounding courts of heaven 
 From this vale of sighs and tears ; 
 "Fifty years" of love and labor 
 
 Consecrated to the Lord ; 
 " Fifty years," whose bloodless conquests 
 
 Shame the triumphs of the sword ! 
 "Fifty years" amid the lowly, 
 By the dying and the dead ; 
 "Fifty years" along the pathway 
 With a Savior's footsteps red ! 
 
 " Fifty years! " We fold life's pages 
 
 Backward — backward, one by one, 
 From the last that nears the finis 
 
 To the record scarce begun — 
 And we see a gentle maiden 
 
 In the dawning grace of youth, 
 At her side attendant spirits. 
 
 Virtue, Innocence, and Truth ; 
 
1 52 THE N UN \S RE WA RD. 
 
 All unheeding 'neath their shadc^w 
 
 Walks she safely, though the way, 
 Straight and narrow in the morning, 
 
 Widens with the glorious day, 
 Broad and broader, ever broader, 
 
 Till a point is reached at last 
 Where two pathways through the future 
 
 Lead divergent from the past. 
 
 One, all sunshine and all flowers, 
 
 Spreads before her fair and bright, 
 With its luring vistas teeming 
 
 All with dazzling, golden light, 
 While bewild'ring all the senses 
 
 Luscious perfumes rich and rare. 
 Strains of soul-entrancing music 
 
 Freight the soft and balmy air. 
 
 And the other! steep and rugged, 
 
 Thorn-beset on every side, 
 'Neath w^hose clouds and brooding shadows 
 
 May no way-side blossom hide. 
 Can it be that she doth linger, 
 
 Can it be her untried feet 
 Pause midway between the thorn-path 
 
 And the one so fair and sweet? 
 
THE NUN'S REWARD. 153 
 
 Yes ! and lo ! above the shadows, 
 
 Like the sun behind a cloud, 
 Or the light of Tabor gleaming 
 
 Over Calv'ry's blood-stained shroud, 
 Doth a soft and silv'ry radiance 
 
 With a hallowed glory rest, 
 While a form, with hands uplifted 
 
 To the kingdom of the blest, 
 Draweth near the youthful maiden 
 
 Saying, " I am Faith ! The way 
 Thou shouldst choose is dark and thorny, 
 
 But it leads to endless day ! 
 Storms may rage and dangers threaten, 
 
 And the cross may weigh thee down, 
 But at last thou shalt exchange it 
 
 For a bright immortal crown ! 
 He has carried His before thee. 
 
 And He bids thee hold thine fast 
 That thy soul may pass triumphant 
 
 Through the jasper gates at last!" 
 
 Then from out the flow'ry mazes 
 
 Of the broad and sunny path 
 Fairy forms of matchless beauty, 
 
 Smiling even in their wrath — 
 " Listen not, sweet maid," they pray, 
 
 "Suffer not that Faith should tempt thee 
 Through her gloomy, toilsome way. 
 
164 THE NUN'S REWARD. 
 
 "Come! and revel 'mid the music 
 
 And the sunshine and the flowers, 
 We would woo thee to the gladness 
 
 And the beauty that are ours! 
 Not a thorn shall e'er beset thee, 
 
 And no cross shall weigh thee down, 
 And we too will from our gardens 
 
 Weave for thee a flow'ry crown." 
 
 " But your blossoms," said the maiden, 
 
 " They will wither, they will fade ! 
 And your sunshine soon be darkened 
 
 By death's chilling blighting, shade! 
 Tempt me not ! Content and ready 
 
 For whatever may betide, 
 I will bear my cross, Savior ! 
 
 Starry Faith my friend and guide!" 
 
 Fifty years have since that morning 
 
 To the maiden come and passed. 
 And the cross, though often weary, 
 
 Has she borne from first to last : 
 And her head is crowned with silver. 
 
 And the furrows seam her brow, 
 And the roses of her spring-time 
 
 Are all pale and withered now. 
 
THE NUN'S REWARD. 155 
 
 But the holy prayers she's uttered 
 
 And the loving deeds she 's done 
 Angels, like a jeweled ros'ry, 
 
 Now are telling one by one; 
 And the silv'ry light of Tabor 
 
 Stream eth purely, calmly down, 
 And the Cross will soon be yielded 
 
 For the bright immortal Crown. 
 
 r 
 
TWO ANGELS. 
 
 H ! one day we sat in the sunshine, 
 And the birds too were singing around, 
 And the leaves budded Jorth in the forest. 
 
 And the flowers sprang up from the ground. 
 All lovely and fair was the present, 
 
 And the future seemed never so bright 
 With all its far-reaching to-morrows 
 Stretching on in a vista of light. 
 
 But e'en as we sat thus so smiling 
 
 There came to our wide open door 
 A shadowy form which had never 
 
 Crossed over our threshold before, 
 And the rush of his sable garments 
 
 And the chill of his icy breath 
 Froze the smile on our lips and the sunshine ; 
 
 'T was the terrible Angel of Death ! 
 
TWO A NOELS. 
 
 How we shivered and groaned in our anguish ! 
 
 'T was so weary, so bitter to tread 
 The steep, thorny path, though the Savior, 
 
 Dear Savior! before us had led. 
 Absorbed in our tears and our sorrow, 
 
 As in smiles and in sunshine before, 
 We saw not, we heard not the angel 
 
 That once more was nearing our door. 
 
 This angel had fair, snowy pinions 
 
 And long flowing garments of white, 
 And he dawned on our gloom and our darkness, 
 
 A beautiful vision of light! 
 And straight from the land where can enter 
 
 Neither sorrow nor sinning nor strife, 
 He bore in his arms a fair cherub, 
 
 And we knew 'twas the Angel of Life ! 
 
LAY HER DOWN GENTLY. 
 
 AY her down gjently, 
 Break not her rest, 
 Sweetly she sleepeth 
 
 The sleep of thf^ blest ! 
 
 Close the fringed eyelids, 
 
 Fold the white hands, 
 
 Smoothe back the ringlets 
 
 In soft shining bands. 
 
 Bring the fair raiment 
 
 Meet to adorn 
 One whom the angels 
 
 Summoned this morn ; 
 Gather the flow' rets, 
 
 Wreathe her pale brow, 
 Crowned with the light of 
 
 Eternity now. 
 
LA Y HER DO WN QENTLY. 159 
 
 Fair the still presence 
 
 Meeting your eyes, 
 Fairer the spirit 
 
 En t' ring the skies. 
 Give back your lamb to 
 
 The " Good Shepherd's" care ; 
 Safe on His breast will 
 
 She wait for you there. 
 
THOU ART GONE. 
 
 ^^HOU art gone in thy beauty; 
 ^ Death has called thee aAvay, 
 And we list for thy coming 
 All vainly each day. 
 
 Thou art gone ! oh, how sadly 
 
 The weary words fall 
 On sad hearts that loved thee 
 
 Most fondly of all ! 
 
 Thou art gone ! the sad echo 
 Responds to each strain ; 
 
 E'en the breeze seems to whisper 
 Thou wilt come not again. 
 
 But we'll think of thee ever 
 
 As hovering near, 
 And thus Hope like a rainbow 
 
 Will shine through each tear. 
 
NOT DEAt). 
 
 ME is not dead ! He has but gone before 
 To peace ; the angels steered him through the tide 
 Whose silent waves the bright eternal shore 
 From this too often weary world divide. 
 
 He is not dead ! He has but raised the veil 
 Before the Holy of all Holies, and passed in 
 
 To bliss that through all ages can not fail, 
 Leaving forever tears and pain and sin. 
 
 Long had. he journeyed! Man's three score and ten, 
 And yet another decade : then how sweet, 
 
 How gladly hailed the summons must have been 
 To lay his burdens down at Jesus' feet! 
 
 So gladly that 'twas greeted with a smile 
 Whose glory lingered on his brow so fair, 
 
 As if the soul, in leaving for a while 
 
 Its temple, stamped a benediction there. 
 11 
 
162 NOT DEAD. 
 
 Not dead ! Not dead, though we have seen liim lie 
 With folded hands above a pulseless breast, 
 
 Lips that were mute e'en to our anguished cry, 
 Eyes closed forever in a dreamless rest. 
 
 Not dead ! Just gone before us for a while 
 
 In that fair New Jerusalem a place 
 To guard for us, and like a star his smile 
 
 Shall draw us heavenward in its holy grace. 
 
 —^ 
 
ALONE IN PRISON. 
 
 ND thou hast come again grim monster, Death ! 
 Come in the fullness of thy blighting power, 
 Come with the early spring's first balmy breath, 
 
 Crushing the hopes of many a weary hour. 
 Bwift, silent messenger ! what woe, what deep 
 
 Enduring anguish hath thy coming wrought I 
 A grief no human art can lull to sleep, 
 
 A shadow dark'uing ev'ry word and thought. 
 
 Alone in prison ! thou, the young, the l)rave ; 
 
 Alone in prison ! far from home and us : 
 'T is hard to yield thee to thine honored grave, 
 
 But, oh! 'tis doubly hard to yield thee thus! 
 Ah ! rather hadst thou fallen in the fight, 
 
 Patriot leader of a patriot band, 
 Fallen with glory in the cause of right 
 
 While battling nobly for thy native land. 
 
ia4 ALONE IN PRISON. 
 
 (TO(i did not will it so: the pivcious life 
 
 Thou freely gavest at thy eouiitry's eall 
 Ts yielded, not amid the battle strife. 
 
 But V)y a sadder martyrdom than all. 
 The noble send oppression could not tame 
 
 The heart that throbbed with pure unfailing trust, 
 Our God has called, and left the tyrants' shame I 
 
 His the immortal, theirs the passing dust. 
 
 Yes! He has claimed thee, we have laid thee down 
 
 Within thy coffin in thy glorious youth, 
 And twined the cypress in the laurel crown 
 
 To deck the martyr in the cause of truth. 
 Ah ! Donelson! what bitter tears were shed, 
 
 Tears e'en of blood must on thy hills be poured, 
 And not alone for those thine honored dead, 
 
 But those whose fate was sadder than the sword. 
 
FORGET NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 SORGET not the dead who died for us : 
 "*-^ You whom this song can not reach with its tran- 
 sient breath, 
 Those ears that are deaf, stopped with the brown dust of 
 
 death, 
 Blind eyes that are dark to your own deathless glory, 
 Silenced hearts that are heedless to praise murmured o'er ye. 
 Sleep deep! sleep in peace ! sleep in memory ever, 
 AVrapt each soul in deeds of its deathless endeavor. 
 Forget not the dead who died for us. 
 
 Forget not the dead who died for us, 
 Till that great final peace shall be rung through the world, 
 Till the stars be recalled and the firmament furled 
 In the dawn of a daylight undying, until 
 The signal of Sion shall be seen on the hill 
 Of the Lord, when the day of the battle is done, 
 And the conflict with time by eternity won. 
 
 Forget not the dead who died for us. 
 
ALONE WITH GOD. 
 
 JH LONE on the land, alone on the sea, 
 ^^ Alone on the shore, alone on the lea, 
 Alone at the first ros'ate hue of day, 
 Alone at the sunset's last fading ray — 
 Always alone with God. 
 
 WhereVer we are, whatever we be, 
 It 's food for reflection for you and me, 
 (Surrounded by friends in the bright daylight, 
 Alone with our thoughts in the dead of night — 
 Always alone with God. 
 
NUNC DIMITTIS. 
 
 OW, while life's summer sweetness fills the air 
 With richest fragrance, while the flowers bloom, 
 And song-birds rob the forests of their gloom, 
 And skies are blue, and every thing is fair. 
 E'en NOW, dear Lord, ere yet the glory pale. 
 Unto that land whose sunshine can not fail, 
 Let me depart ! 
 
 Now, while the friends of youth prove faithful still, 
 And tender eyes speak love to mine again, 
 And no harsh discord mars life's sweet refrain ; 
 
 Ere friendship yet has felt time's blighting chill. 
 E'en now, dear Lord, far, far above the range 
 Of doubt, mistrust, of shadows, and of change, 
 Let me depart ! 
 
168 NUN(' DIMITTIS. 
 
 Now, while around the social festive board 
 I yet may summon all my dear ones — all, 
 And no loved voice is silent at my call, 
 
 And on no vacant chair need tears be pou-red. 
 E'en now, dear Lord, far from earth's shadows cold. 
 Secure within the gates of pearl and gold, 
 Lord, let me go! 
 
 Now, even now, I feel thy hand is laid 
 In love upon me, and thou bidst me go, 
 Ere yet my life has lost its morning glow 
 
 Or I have seen its sweet illusions fade ; 
 My loved will follow, though I go alone, 
 Dear Lord, where grief and sin are all unknown, 
 Lord, let me go ! 
 
iDramaLS in Verse 
 
THE 
 
 Star of Bethlehem 
 
 It is More Blessed to Give Than to Receive 
 
 A DRAMA (N FIVE ACTS. 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 Star of Bethlehem, Fairy Queen, 
 
 Angel of Charity, Fairy Fidelia and Train, 
 
 Dame Ursule, Elsie, Hilda, 
 
 Flower Spirit and Train, Spirit of the Orient and Tra n, 
 
 SFiRiT of History and Train, Spirit of Poetry and Train, 
 Spirit of Fiction and Train, 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM, 
 
 It is More Blessed to Give than to Receive. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene — Cottage. Dame Ursule busied about the fire ; Hilda 
 playing near her; ^usiE seated at some distance, absorbed in 
 a book. 
 
 Dame Ursule. What ails this fire? I 'm sure I 'd like 
 to know ; 
 It will not blaze — no matter how I blow. \_B lotos furiously. 
 Come, Hilda, here ! I want another stick ! 
 That's right; that's right; jump when I speak ; be quick ! 
 You 're a good child ; your mother out and out ; 
 While Elsie ! she would sit and read, no doubt, 
 And think of nothing but to take her ease 
 If we before her eyes should starve and freeze. 
 Her father's child in ways as well as looks ! 
 He cares for nothing but his hateful books. 
 (If they'd bring clothes and food I would not care.) 
 And Elsie's like him (they're a precious pair!) 
 
176 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 To tliiiik of bringing all tlie way from town 
 A book, indeed ! no shoes or Sunday gown ! 
 
 There 's Madeline, the miller's maid — her Fritz 
 Knows nought of books; but, stout and strong, he splits 
 The mountain pines, and many a kreutzer gains, 
 And keeps his herds and flocks upon the plains; 
 While she sits by the fire without a care, 
 And wears a silver bodkin in her hair; 
 And (musingly) we were wedded on the self-same day! 
 " Poor Madeline !" I heard the neighbors say, 
 " How can she mate with such a boorish clown ! 
 Tliere 's Ursule's Otto ! e'en the wise priest's gown 
 Would not ill fit him ; hfi/s so good, so learned 
 And handsome too !" 
 
 Ah ! (sighs) how the luck has turned ! 
 Now, when I pass they pity me by stealth ; 
 Shake hands with Fritz, and loudly praise his wealth — 
 And all from books! If Otto had learned how 
 To inint the chamois and to guide the plow. 
 He might be rich and^strong — not on his bed. 
 Too weak and sick to raise his hand or head. 
 And how he coughs ! — sometimes — I think — but there ! 
 That fire 's out again ! I do declare ! 
 
 \_Stoops down to build it, and brushes away a tuar. 
 What's this? a tear? I must be turning fool 
 To sit here idle while the ashes cool ! 
 And Elsie — ah ! I don't believe she 's stirred ! 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 177 
 
 {Calls.) " Elsie !" The silly child don't hear a word ; 
 
 But if her father should but make a sound, 
 
 She'd hear — and heed too, fast enough, I'm bound. 
 
 (Calls again and louder.) " E-1-s-i-e !" 
 
 [Elsie slowly raises her head and lools around. 
 
 'Tis well I 've made you hear at last I 
 
 Pray, can't you see the day is going fast? 
 
 And who '11 go to the spring — drive home the cow? 
 
 Yjhsm {springing up). I will; I will; 1 did not know till 
 
 now 
 
 That it was late; 'tis such a lovely book, 
 
 And full of pictures. Come here, Hilda; look I 
 
 [Hilda goes to her, and they turn over the leaves, the Dame 
 meamvhile being intent on household cares.^ 
 
 HiJuB A {clapping her hands). How pretty, sister! J>ut 
 
 what does it mean ? 
 Elsie (pointing to the pictures). Oh I those are Fairies; 
 
 that's the Fairy Queen. 
 
 This book tells all about them — lovely things I 
 
 Their dazzling garments and their shining wings, 
 
 And how they come to little folks at night 
 
 And bring them pleasant dreams and slum1)ers light, 
 
 And often take them kindly by the hand 
 
 And lead them through the wondrous Fairy land. 
 
 Beautiful flowers are always blooming there ; 
 
 The trees are gold, and shine with jewels rare ; 
 
 And then — the birds and butterflies! — oh dear! 
 
 And music I — heav'nlv sound to mortal ear! 
 
 12 
 
]78 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 And, Hildii, do you know? if children try 
 
 To be quite good, the pretty Fairies nigh 
 
 Will often grant them wishes — one— two — three ! 
 
 Hilda {eagerly). Oh! that is nice! I'd wish — now, 
 let nie see — 
 A doll with big blue eyes and curly hair. 
 Like that we saw last Easter at the Fair ; 
 And next, a cake stuffed full of plums I 'd choose, 
 Red stockings too and buckles for my shoes. 
 
 Elsie {thoughtfully). I 'd wish that father might be well 
 once more ; 
 If that could be, I'd ask for nothing more. 
 But stay! it would be very nice indeed 
 To have as many books as we could read; — 
 
 Dame Ursule {turning suddenly around). Not gone yet, 
 Elsie ? Still that book ! that book ! 
 And calling Hilda too ! to make her look I 
 
 [ Taking the hook, she puts it on a high shelf. 
 Now mind I see here ! I put it on this shelf, 
 And none shall take it down except myself. 
 
 Elsie. I'm sorry, mother; you've a right to scold : 
 Indeed, I meant to do as I was told ; 
 But I called Hilda, and then — I forgot! 
 But you '11 forgive me, mother; will you not? \^Kisses her. 
 That's right! I know you are not angry now; 
 You '11 see how quickly I'll drive home the cow. 
 And please let Hilda go: it is so warm — 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 179 
 
 And I '11 take care she does not come to harm. 
 
 Dame Ursule. Well, she may go; but mind you do 
 not stay 
 A Single moment loit'ring on the way; 
 And don't fill Hilda's head with books and stuff; 
 Your own is turned ! I 'm sure that is enough. 
 
 [^Exmnt Elsie and Hilda. 
 [Dame soliloquizes, talcing her knitting in her hand.'] 
 Now what came over me to be so weak 
 With Elsie ! But a word had she to speak, 
 The vixen ! and I melted right away. 
 It sure must be the trouble that each day 
 Comes near and nearer; for I know 'tis vain 
 To hope that Otto can get well again — 
 
 [ Wipes her eijes and suppresses a sob. 
 And she 's his image ! has his very face, 
 His winning smile, his gentle, tender grace. 
 'T is hard to chide her. But — we are so poor ! — 
 The wolf each day creeps nearer to the door ; 
 And she must learn to work, and spin, and knit ; 
 Not idly o'er those useless books to sit. 
 I 've always had a sharp and ready tongue ; 
 Temper to match — that spared not old or young — 
 Not even Otto ; though there '11 never be 
 But one dear Otto in this world for me. 
 And I'll be firm with Elsie ! She shall learn 
 At all the household tasks to take a turn ; — 
 
180 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 But — there she comes ! — and singing too her song ; 
 I fear me much 't will turn to tears ere long. 
 \^Enter Elsie and Hilda, singing.'] 
 
 Elsie. Here we are, mother ! Did n't we come soon ? 
 We hurried Brindle when we saw the moon, 
 And would not even let her stop to take 
 A drink, for fear that father miglit awake 
 And want his milk. But he is sleeping still, 
 And he'll wake better {anxiously)) don't you think he will? 
 
 Dame Ursule. Don't ask me? I've no time for talk- 
 ing now : 
 You set the table while T milk the cow. 
 I always try to hope the best, I 'm sure ; 
 But doctors don't know always how to cure. \_Exit Dame. 
 
 Elsie {busied about the table). But they'll cure him ! — 
 I know they will ! — they must ! 
 The good priest told us we must pray and trust. 
 And ev'ry night I clasp my hands and say, 
 " Dear Jesus ! please cure father right away." 
 He must be well by Christmas. Hilda dear. 
 Are you not glad that Christmas is so near? 
 
 Hilda. Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! and we will have a tree 
 Like we had last year, full as it can be 
 Of pretty candles — red, and green, and blue ! 
 And dolls and toys — cakes and candies too ! 
 
 Elsie. And books for father — and — but let me see — 
 
 [ To Dame Ursule, vjho has just entered with a bucket of 
 milk.] 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 181 
 
 Mother, what would you like best on the tree ? 
 
 Dame Ursule. The tree indeed ! What put it in your 
 head 
 To think of Christmas trees ? If you have bread 
 And fire and clothes, and do not starve or freeze 
 By Christmas, you may thank God on your knees. 
 
 [Elsie bursts into tears ; the Dame continues more gently.'] 
 Hush, child ! — don't cry ; I was too harsh, I fear! 
 And though we 're very poor — too poor this year 
 To think of trees — we are not starving yet. 
 Come, eat your supper, and you '11 soon forget 
 It all. See ! here 's your milk ! [^Pushing a hoivl toward her. 
 
 Hilda {who is already eating). And nice milk too ! 
 And, Elsie, let me tell you what we '11 do ; 
 We '11 make a wish — two wishes — you and me, 
 And ask the Fairies for a Christmas Tree. 
 
 Elsie. But will we get it? I can't understand 
 How far we live from happy Fairy land : 
 Sometimes I think it is not far away; 
 For though I see no signs of them by day. 
 Still often, when the moon shines in the night, 
 I catch a glimpse of tiny forms in white ; 
 And sometimes lately I have seen a star 
 So wondrous bright that, though away so far, 
 It seems to speak to me : " Sleep, little maid," 
 It says, " sleep while I watch ; be not afraid !" 
 
182 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Dame Ursule. The child is daft; she don't know what 
 she says. 
 Elsie, there are no Fairies nowadays ; 
 So drive those silly fancies from your head, 
 And you and Hilda go at once to bed. 
 And sleep too, mind you — there — good night — good night. 
 \_Kisses them. Exeunt Elsie and Hilda. 
 Otto sleeps long ! I hope it is all right. \_Rises. 
 
 I'll look at him. Ah, me ! my heart is sore ! 
 I never knew how dear he was before. \^Exit Dame. 
 
 {Curtain drops.) 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 183 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 ScE^E— Fairy Court. Queen of the Fairies in soliloquy. 
 
 Fairy Queen. Why am I not content? Bright Fairy 
 land 
 Its rarest treasures yields at my command ; 
 8oft breezes gently woo me ; fairest flowers 
 With beauty and with fragrance crown my bowers ; 
 Sunshine about me falls from smiling skies, 
 To dim whose azure storms nor clouds arise ; 
 Harmonious sounds forever greet my ear, 
 And blithesome Fairies ever linger near, 
 And almost ere I speak they flit away 
 On wings of love, my wishes to obey. 
 But yet there is a void, an inward strife, 
 A something wanting in my higher life. 
 That robs me of my peace, do what I will, 
 And leaves me longing and unhappy still ! 
 Ah yes ! this dazzling, sparkling diadem 
 Is incomplete. It lacks a single gem- 
 But one ; and yet, without it, dimmed for me 
 The luster of all other gems must be ! 
 W^hat can I do ? I join the Fairy dance, 
 Where grace and music mingle to entrance ; 
 Roam 'mid the flowers, or in a graver mood 
 
184 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Seek^tho diiu greenwood's? leafy solitude, 
 
 Or in the solemn stillness of the night 
 
 Ask of the stars, so changeless and so bright : 
 
 " Oh shining orbs ! that dwell so near the throne 
 
 Of wisdom, why must I, and I alone 
 
 Of all the Fairy train, within my breast 
 
 Cherish this longing and this vague unrest? 
 
 I have so much — ah ! why, dissatisfied, 
 
 Must I e'er mourn the single gift denied?" 
 
 In vain ! they answer not I — and I must fain 
 
 Solve my own })roblem. [^Pauses and thinks. 
 
 Ah ! my Fairy train I 
 I'll summon them! — and they, earth, air, and sea, 
 Shall e'en traverse until they bring to me 
 The prize I covet. [ Waves her wand. 
 
 " Fairies, waiting near, 
 Your queen commands : Appear! Appear!! Appear!!!" 
 \_Enter Fairies, singing and dancing.'] 
 Fairy Fidelia. We have come, gracious Queen, we 
 have come at your call ; 
 So gladly your summons was greeted by all, 
 That our happy hearts sent forth a joyful chime, 
 And our feet to the jubilant echoes kept time ; 
 For we knew, though our queen, you would not think us 
 
 wrong 
 To seek thus your presence with dance and with song. 
 Queen. Ah, no, my Fairies! far be it from me 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 185 
 
 To cast a shadow o'er your blithesome glee, 
 Although this strange, vague discontent doth fling 
 Its blight, its upas shade on ev'rything 
 I hear, or see, or feel. 
 
 Fairy Fidelia. Tell me why, gracious Queen ; 
 Your sadness in silence full long have I seen, 
 And much have I marveled ! Oh, what can distress 
 One whom nature and art have united to bless? 
 
 Queen. 'Tis true, good Fairy, treasures rare are mine ; 
 But though >o much I have, yet do I pine 
 For what I have not. Know you not a gem 
 Is missing from my royal diadem, 
 And I would fain restore it? Till replaced 
 I 'm doomed by restless longings to be chased ; 
 But mourn I not thus for itself alone 
 This missing gem, for by its loss is shown 
 The absence of some virtue from my breast 
 That should adorn it. Hence this vague unrest— 
 These shadows where I should but sunshine see. 
 These sighs for what I am not, but might be. 
 
 [^Droovs her head despondently. 
 So, while my diadem is incomplete 
 I'll know not happiness. The meteor fleet, 
 Its counterfeit — gay pleasure — may beguile 
 Perchance my somber musings for a while ; 
 But till the missing gem restored shall be 
 Contentment is not, can not be for me. 
 
186 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Fairy. Yet do not despair, for you know that our dower, 
 Our mystical birthright, endows us with power 
 To penetrate all the recesses of earth, 
 Discern 'neath the homeliest guises true worth. 
 Oh then, beloved Queen, can you think that 'tis vain 
 To hope the lost jewel you yet may regain ? 
 
 Queen. Your words bring comfort, and it is indeed 
 For this I've summoned you. Where'er you lead 
 The Fairies follow. Go then with your train 
 Into the land of mortals; hill and plain 
 Explore ; and oh ! may gracious Heaven bless 
 Your search, and give me back my happiness! 
 
 Fairy. Thanks, thanks for your mission ! We hear and 
 obey. 
 And swiftly and gayly we '11 hasten away. 
 The lily's still chalice no secrets shall hold ; 
 We will traverse the rainbow's fair bridge for its gold ; 
 We will list where the honey bee's humming is heard ; 
 We will catch a low note from the song of the bird. 
 Far in the dark shade of the forest we '11 go ; 
 Fierce winds and soft zephyrs shall tell what they know. 
 We will stand by the seashore and question the waves 
 Of the treasures concealed in their deep ocean caves. 
 We will folloAV the stars in their devious track ; 
 E'en the hills and the mountains shall answer us back. 
 And joy shall reign in our bright Fairy land 
 When, united once more, we before you shall stand. 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 187 
 
 Queen. God speed you then, my Fairies! Even now 
 My heart feels lighter, for I know not how 
 Such search can be in vain. Your Fairy power 
 The language of the stars, the bird, the flower, 
 The winds, the waves, reveals, and they will speak 
 And tell the secret that you fain would seek. 
 If it be known to them. Should it not be !— 
 Dread thought ! What lifelong misery for me ! 
 
 Fairy. Nay, my Queen ! did I dare, I would e'en chide 
 you now. 
 Your fears are so groundless. Chase care from your brow; 
 List, while to the Fairies your will I convey; 
 See how gladly they'll listen, how swiftly obey! 
 And believe, hope, and trust; we are sure to prevail. 
 When Love leads us onward, oh how can we fail ! 
 
 [ To the Fairies. 
 Hearken ye, Fairies all ! 'tis your Queen's gracious will 
 That we among mortals a mission shall fill. 
 To make all resplendent her rare diadem 
 A jewel is wanting — but one single gem ; 
 Yet so priceless, she ne'er can know happiness more 
 Till we to her crown can this jewel restore ; 
 And she bids us the uttermost parts of the earth 
 To wander in search of this gem of great worth. 
 Fairies (in chorus). 
 
 One and all, 
 
 One and all. 
 
188 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 We have come 
 
 At your call I 
 
 Blithe and gay, 
 
 Blithe and gay, 
 
 Let us then 
 
 Haste away, 
 
 And the gem. 
 
 Priceless gem, 
 
 Soon shall grace 
 
 Your diadem ! 
 
 Queen. Go then, my loving Fairies, go! nor long 
 
 delay 
 
 Your glad return. Away! Away! ! Away ! ! ! 
 
 And be our parting, though it may be long, 
 
 E'en as we hope to meet, with dance and song. 
 
 [ The Queen reclines on her throne, and the Faihies dance 
 and sing, and as the dance ends, go out saying — 
 
 Blithe and gay, 
 
 Blithe and gay. 
 
 Let us then 
 
 Haste away. 
 
 And the gem, 
 
 Priceless gem. 
 
 Soon shall grace 
 
 Your diadem. 
 
 {Curtain drops.) 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 189 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene — A Woodland. First Fairy alone. 
 
 Fairy Fidelia. How sweet, oh how sweet it is once 
 more to stand 
 'Mid the beautiful scenes of our own Fairy hind I 
 Oh ! never the life of a mortal for me — 
 A Fairy, a gay, blithesome Fairy I 'd be ! 
 But if, as I hope, we have borne back the prize 
 That shall banish the shade that so chillingly lies 
 On our loved sovereign's brow, we'll be more than content 
 To forget the long days that in exile we 've spent. 
 She fain must be weary of pomp and of state, 
 To bid me her coming thus here to await 
 In these simple greenwoods. But her presence alone 
 Will make them right royal, transform to a throne 
 The green, mossy turf of this leafy retreat, 
 Where she shall recline, while we lay at her feet 
 The treasures we 've garnered. But {listening) what is that 
 
 strain ? 
 
 'Tis the jubilant song of the glad Fairy train 
 
 That comes with her hither. Oh, joy at last ! 
 
 She is here ! and the sad days of parting are past ! 
 
 \^Enter Queen, preceded by the Fairies singing and scat- 
 tering flowers.'] 
 
 Queen. Welcome! oh, welcome back to Fairy land! 
 
190 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Ofttimes have I repented my command, 
 And scarce my eager longing could restrain 
 To call you from your wand'rings home again. 
 But Heaven be praised ! at last they all are o'er, 
 And your glad presence cheers my heart once more ! 
 But {eagerly) tell me — tell me — did you meet success? 
 Fairy Fidelia. 'Tis for you to decide, beloved Queen ; 
 we confess 
 To the fairest of hoi)es ; for, tho' oft weary, still 
 The broad earth we 've traversed our mission to fill. 
 And now with your leave we '11 present to your eyes 
 The fruits of our wand'rings ; and oh ! may the prize 
 So eagerly sought, by its magical power 
 Soon banish the clouds o'er your pathway that lower. 
 First, fair Flower Spirit, I call thee : [ Waves her ivand. 
 
 Appear ! 
 And with thy sweet train of rare blossoms draw near. 
 \_Enter Flower Spirit with her attendant hlonsomsJ] 
 Floaver Spirit. From our far-off mountain home, 
 At your bidding, we have come. 
 
 Gracious Queen ; 
 Through the crowning charm and grace 
 Of our earthly dwelling place 
 
 We have been. 
 In our leaves are folded up, 
 As within a jeweled cup, 
 Sweets untold : 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 191 
 
 But our dearest magic lies 
 In a gift that you will prize 
 
 More than gold. 
 We, though frail and fleeting flowers, 
 Over many adverse powers 
 
 Have control, 
 And each bud and blossom fair 
 Typifies some virtue rare 
 
 Of the soul. 
 And we fain would bring you " peace ;" 
 Bid the weary strife to cease 
 
 In your breast ; 
 Drive the yearning vague away 
 That has filled you night and day 
 
 With unrest. 
 And though sparkling not with gems 
 Are the royal diadems 
 
 That we weave, 
 We would twine a crown so fair 
 That no ling' ring trace of care 
 
 It would leave. 
 But their treasures first, my Rose, 
 Then her sisters, would disclose — 
 
 Even now 
 Garnered sweets they'd fain combine 
 In the chaplet they would twine 
 
 For vour brow. 
 
192 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Rose. Where the nightingale thrills with his soul- 
 'trancing strain 
 
 The silvery brightness of night, 
 And, laden with fragrance, the soft zephyrs steal 
 
 And fill ev'ry sense with delight; 
 Where Beauty her spell of enchantment doth weave 
 
 From the dawn of the <lay to its close, 
 And all that is lovely in harmony blends — 
 
 Oh ! there is the home of the Rose ! 
 My home ! Yes, for me is the nightingale's lay ; 
 
 My smiles would the soft zephyrs woo, 
 And the sunbeams enfold me in circlets of gold 
 
 And whisper of love to me too ; 
 For of all of the flowers of earth I am queen ! 
 
 And peerless among them I stand. 
 E'en as of the Fairies, your Highness, enthroned, 
 
 Stands first in this fair Fairy land. 
 And I am the emblem of love, that we know 
 
 Is of all things the life and the breath, 
 Enriching with Midas-like touch high and low — 
 
 Love ! older and stronger than death ! 
 What jewel in beauty with me can compare, 
 
 Or with love in its richness can vie? 
 Yet these are the treasures I offer you now — 
 
 Oh ! pass them not hastily by. 
 
 Q.UEEN. Nay ! I will ponder well your gif ts,'_0 Rose ! 
 Few indeed could surpass or equal those. 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 19:^, 
 
 The love you offer stirs and thrills my heart, 
 
 Yet not in all its fullness doth impart 
 
 The peace I crave. It is a gift— most sweet, 
 
 'T is true— yet hut a gift, and for complete 
 
 Content I must not merely hoard up pelf, 
 
 But rise, through longing, to a nobler self. 
 
 Yet love may be the means whereby to rise. 
 
 The destined wings to bear me to the skies ! \_Pauses. 
 
 I '11 think of it, e'en while I lend an ear 
 
 Your lovely sisters' sweet discourse to hear. 
 
 Lily. Can I, the spotless Lily, 
 
 Claim a place beside the Rose 
 In the cluster rare of blossoms 
 
 That your wand'ring Fairies chose 
 From earth's brightest, fairest gardens, 
 
 To delight your honored eyes 
 And supply the nameless longing 
 
 That within your bosom lies? 
 Everywhere my fragrant chalice 
 
 Is the perfect type of grace, 
 And the purity I emblem 
 
 That beholds God face to face ; 
 And if these you fain would mingle 
 
 With the jewels of your throne, 
 They are mine, O Queen ! to offer ; 
 
 Take them, keep them for your own. 
 
 18 
 
194 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Queen. O Lily! stainless in a world of sin, 
 Meet is thy spotlessness to enter in 
 The heav'nly courts! Oh ! gladly would I take 
 Thy offerin<y; but, alas! it does not make 
 Peace yet within me ! Further must I seek. 
 But see I another flow' ret waits to speak. 
 
 Passion Flower. And I, fair Queen — I am the 
 Passion Flower ! 
 Called into birth in Calvary's blood-stained hour, 
 And on my breast — a holy trust — I bear 
 Its blest regalia. Yes I the cross is there ; 
 The nails — the hammer — e'en the thorny crown 
 That pierced the Kingly Head and weighed it down ; 
 The scepter reed, the purple that in scorn 
 They brought the King of Glory to adorn ! 
 I emblem Faith, that attribute divine, 
 Which brighter than the very stars shall shine 
 Upon that day of days when God shall make 
 His jewels up. Faith ! that hath power to take 
 The sting from ev'ry thorn, and, tho' the night 
 Close darkly around us, lead us to the light ; 
 To bid our stormy passions " peace, be still !" 
 And with repose our troubled hearts to fill. 
 
 Queen. Thrice royal is thy crest, O Passion 
 Flower, 
 And glorious the faith that is thy dower! 
 But I must own that still my tortured breast 
 Is filled with sadness, longing, and unrest. 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. lO" 
 
 Violet. Then hear nie, pray — tlie Violet !■ 
 Though fairer far my sisters, yet 
 God gives a certain charm and worth 
 To e'en the lowliest things of earth. 
 And as their beauty and their grace 
 And lofty gifts have found no place 
 Within your breast, it yet may be 
 Its slumbering chords shall wake for me. 
 Half hidden by some leafy screen, 
 In shaded nooks I'm always seen, 
 And ere the wand' ring gaze I greet, 
 Upon the air my perfume sweet 
 I softly breathe. Humility, 
 Contentment, find their tyi)es in me — 
 Virtues scarce meet to crown a queen ; 
 But as the moonlight's silvery sheen 
 Has a still glory of its own 
 Which noonday skies have scarcely known, 
 So may these gentle gifts of mine 
 With sweet eflfulgence o'er you shine. 
 
 Queen. Alas ! my star-eyed Violet — alas ! 
 E'en as the rest, I fain must let you pass ; 
 But think not that your lowly gifts I scorn : 
 Palace or cot they would alike adorn. 
 But the dread phantom of my weary hours 
 Remains, and yields not to your spells, O Flowers I 
 
196 THE STAB OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Flower Bpirij'. Then away to lOarth again, ^ 
 Grieving o'er our mission vain, 
 
 We will go, 
 Wafted by the Zephyrs fair 
 On the viewless waves of air 
 
 To and fro ! 
 \_Exeunt Flower Spirit and her train, repeating in chorus : 
 Yes! away to Earth again, 
 Grieving o'er our mission vain, 
 
 We will go, 
 Wafted by the Zephyrs fair 
 On the viewless waves of air 
 
 To and fro. 
 
 [ The Queen reclines with her head drooping in profound 
 dejection. The first Fairy again approaches and 
 addresses her.^ 
 
 First Fairy. Nay, do not despond, O our Sov' reign ! 
 
 for still 
 
 Treasures rare and undreamed of await but your will ; 
 
 The Orient Spirit, from mountains and waves. 
 
 Has borne off the gems of their fathomless caves, 
 
 And waits but my summons your presence to greet, 
 
 And his costliest jewels to lay at your feet. 
 
 [ Waves her wand. 
 
 *' Spirit of the Orient ! — the far distant main — 
 
 Enter, enter, enter; enter with your train! " 
 
 [Enter Spirit of the Orient ivith his jewels. The 
 Fairies greet them with a song.~\ 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 197 
 
 Spirit of the Orient. Treasures I bring 
 
 Meet for a king, 
 
 Longing to fling 
 Them all at your feet, Sov'reign Queen! 
 
 Dark mountain caves, 
 
 Deep ocean waves, 
 Have for ages their citadels been. 
 
 Though fathoms down. 
 
 Where tempests frown 
 
 And billows crown 
 Their mystical grottoes with night ; 
 
 Flashing, their ray^ 
 
 Sparkle and blaze. 
 Alive and resplendent with light. 
 
 And mermaids come, 
 
 And Elf and Gnome 
 
 Make their weird home 
 In their marvelous, jeweled retreat ; 
 
 And Kings have sighed 
 
 And fought and died 
 For the gems I would lay at your feet. 
 
 Diamond. Yes, I am the Diamond, translucent with light, 
 And I flash and I sparkle and quiver 
 Like the far-shining stars on the brow of the night. 
 Like the heaven-crowned glaciers tiiat dazzle the sight, 
 Like the sunbeams that siiimmer bewild'riniil v bright 
 
11)8 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 As they ghmce iind they gleam on the river. 
 All the hues of the rainbow are 'prisoned in me, 
 Locked up in their beauty forever; 
 Ever fresh, ever changeful my splendor shall be. 
 Like the varying waves of the beautiful sea 
 Or the clouds that at sunset float over the lea 
 From the -'Now'' to the shores of the "Never.'' 
 •* Excelsior ! " proudly I bear on my crest : 
 As the type of perfection I 'm given ; 
 On the forehead of monarchs I fittingly rest, 
 Or blaze into radiance on royalty's breast, 
 Adorning and crowning Earth's highest and best 
 With the nameless resplendence of heaven. 
 
 Queen {shading her eyes as if dazzled). Ah, matchless 
 Diamond ! you dazzle me indeed. 
 But splendor does not give me what I need. 
 
 Pearl. Then, if your Majesty craves not for splendor, 
 
 Hear me — the Pearl ! 
 Down where the sea murmurs holy and tender, 
 
 Safe from the whirl, 
 Rousing the sailor from dream-haunted pillow, 
 Filling tlie tempest and tossing the billow, 
 
 Seeking to hurl 
 All in the foam of its striving and seething, 
 In a dim grotto where silence is breathing. 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 199 
 
 Long have I slept, 
 
 While ages kept 
 
 Watch as they crept 
 
 Over the Pearl. 
 Meanwhile my translucent beauty was forming, 
 
 Hid from all eyes ; 
 One day above all the strife and the storming 
 
 Destined to rise. 
 Pure as the light from the star-lit skies streaming, 
 Holy and calm as Eternity's beaming, 
 
 Come I at last, 
 
 Longing to cast 
 
 Into the past 
 
 All your vain sighs. 
 
 Queen. Oh, priceless Pearl! the ocean's purest gem, 
 Why canst not thou complete my diadem ? 
 Fain would I give to thee the vacant place 
 Ages have formed and fitted thee to grace, 
 But that I may not. Something whispers " No ! 
 For what you seek still iiirther must you go! " 
 
 Emerald. Mayhap to me, the Emerald, 
 
 It may be given 
 To bring to you the boon denied 
 So long by Heaven ; 
 Not as the Diamond may 
 With a prismatic ray, 
 
200 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Gone while you bid it stay — 
 
 Not thus I shine ! 
 Changeless, mij constant light, 
 Steadfast and true and bright, 
 Mortals have chosen me 
 Emblem and type to be 
 
 Of Truth divine ! 
 What surer anchor could you crave 
 
 From ev'ry shock 
 Than Truth, wiiich e'en when tempests rave 
 
 Stands like a rock — 
 Truth, though a Pharos set, 
 Guiding Earth's wand'rers, yet 
 
 Shineth in Heaven 
 E'en as the central stone 
 Of the Eternal Throne, 
 Where, all our doubtings past, 
 Sweetly to us at last 
 
 Peace shall be given ! 
 
 ' Queen. Wretched am I! The gems of earth and sea 
 
 Bring not my lost contentment back to me ! 
 
 Orient Spirit ! e'en your treasures rare 
 
 Have failed, and naught seems left me but despair. 
 
 Spirit of the Orient. Then we will go. 
 Silently go. 
 Sadly and slow 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 201 
 
 Back to our caverns again : 
 
 Hoping to you 
 
 Happiness true 
 
 May come though our charms are vain ! 
 
 [Exeunt Spirit of the Orient and train. 
 \_T/ie First Fairy speaks cheeringly to the Queen.] 
 
 Fairy. Not yet are the fruits of our wanderings spent : 
 
 For fear Earth's resources might fail us, we bent 
 
 Our devious course to the broad realms of Thought, 
 
 And there 'mid the lore of all ages we sought, 
 
 And garnered the fittest to charm and to please — 
 
 Hist'ry, Poetry, Fiction — and now, first of these, 
 
 [ Waves her wand. 
 
 " I summon thee, Hist'ry ! Let the days of the Past 
 
 O'er the days of the Present their witchery cast! " 
 
 [Enter History, holding in her hand the lamp of the Past. 
 She speaks and then evokes the shades of the great, who, 
 one by one. pass silently in review before the Queen.] 
 
 History. I, History, have an honored task to fill : 
 
 Guard from oblivion Monarchs at whose will 
 
 Millions have trembled ; rescue from the dust 
 
 Of ages names heroic — sacred trust ! 
 
 Immortal names that perished not with breath. 
 
 But live in me, triumphant over death. 
 
 I bear the mystic lantern of the Past, 
 
 And now its dim and shadowy light will cast 
 
 Upon the phantom forms that one by one 
 
 Shall pass before you. Deeds that they have done 
 
202 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 You may do likewise. Virtues, made their own, 
 Make yours, and bring the peace you have not known. 
 And first, brave, noble, gentle, tender, true. 
 Fair type of \vomanhood, I summon you, 
 " Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi ! " See ! 
 She comes — her jewels clinging to her knee. 
 
 [Cornelia enters and passes slowly across the stage, her 
 children clinging to her.'] 
 
 Now, " Joan of Arc," who by Divine command 
 Assumed the warrior's garb to save her land. 
 
 \_Enter Joan of Arc, passing like Cornelia.] 
 Next, " Mary," Scotland's fair, ill-fated Queen, 
 Nearing the scaffold with a royal mien. 
 
 [Enter Mary, Queen of Scots, etc.] 
 " Marg'ret of Anjou," noble mother, wife, 
 Braving the foes that seek her young son's life. 
 [Enter Margaret of Anjou, etc.] 
 " Zenobia," Palmyra's pride! She deigns 
 No tears, no sighs, tho' captive and in chains. 
 
 [Enter Zenobia, etc.] 
 But I will pause, tho' from my honored scroll 
 An endless pageant I might still unroll, 
 For waits my sister, Fiction, from her store" 
 A mental feast of rich delight to pour. 
 
 Fiction. Although not like Hist'ry, custodian of ages, 
 Yet still in my ranks mingle scholars and sages. 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 203 
 
 And many fair blossoms from Thought's lovely garden, 
 Expanded to beauty, own me for their warden. 
 Dickens, Thackeray, Scott, other priests of my altar, 
 Whose great minds knew never a pause or a falter. 
 The fairest and best of their limitless treasure 
 Shall pour at your feet, Fairy Queen, for your pleasure. 
 Fiction fain should instruct, entertain, or give warning, 
 Paint Vice to be shunned. Virtue meet for adorning; 
 So, all varying forms will I call up in review, 
 And if these soul glances should chance to restore you 
 The secret of Peace, we will, with one voice, 
 Unite with the Fairies to praise and rejoice! 
 [Enter Pegotty.] 
 Pegotty. Pegotty ! beg pardon ! But my name that be. 
 You 've heard of Master Davy and of me, 
 And how I loved him and cared not a shillin' 
 To marry Barkis, tho' he was so ^' willin\" 
 Bless me ! I 've hugged, and kissed, and squeezed the boy 
 Until my very buttons burst with joy ! 
 Indeed, they 're always poppin' more or less — 
 (I think my heart is bigger than my dress). 
 Those murderin' Murdstones, how I hate them still ! 
 I can 't forgive them — and I never will. 
 They drove my child away to starve and sin, 
 But good Miss Betsy Trotwood took him in, 
 And these two eyes have lived to see him stand 
 
204 THE ST A R OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Among the Lords iind Ladies of the land. 
 
 I'm proud to say it I {holding her side) that's a dreadful 
 
 strain ! 
 I '11 leave before the buttons pop again. [^Exit Pegotty. 
 [Fnier Romola.] 
 
 RoMOLA. Romola — surviving Hope, and Love, and 
 
 Truth, 
 
 Life dead for her, e'en in the flush of youth, 
 
 Her heart's best treasures trampled in the dust, 
 
 Deceived, betrayed where she had learned to trust — 
 
 Still lives to prove it is (Faith tells us why) 
 
 "Not all of life to live, nor death to die." 
 
 The path of duty brings its own content. 
 
 Life dead for us may be for others spent; 
 
 And they who nobly, grandly can ignore 
 
 The blow that kills them, rising bravely o'er 
 
 Their human weakness till they grow so strong 
 
 They give back blessing in return for wrong. 
 
 Chastened by sorrow, may become sublime, 
 
 Their spirit wings unfolding ere their time. 
 
 \_Krit Romola. The Queen, looking yearningly after her, 
 e.vclaims : 
 
 Queen. Oh, Romola! a hidden chord thy noble life 
 
 Awakes that seems to drown this ceaseless strife 
 
 Within me, and altho' I may not dare 
 
 To call it hope, it lessens my despair. 
 
 lEnter little Nell.] 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 205 
 
 Little Nell. Please, your Majesty, I'm" Little Nell." 
 I 'in hunting Grandfather; pray can you tell 
 Where he has wandered ? All the bright day long 
 "We 've roamed the green fields, listening to the song 
 Of the clear brook that gaily flowed along, 
 Or picking pretty flowers from the grass 
 Because they looked so glad to see us pass. 
 I left him but just now a little while 
 That he might rest himself upon the stile, 
 And when I came back he was gone. But, hear! 
 He calls me : " Yes, Grandfather dear, 
 I'm coming." (LooHng up.) Oh ! I 'm glad the moon 's so 
 bright, 
 
 For we have far to journey yet to-night. [^Exit little Nell.. 
 lEnter Becky Sharpe.] 
 Becky Sharpe. Becky Sharpe, so I'm called, and my 
 nature and name 
 
 Are all sharp together : they are one and the same. 
 
 Scissors, razors can 't even compare with my tongue, 
 
 For it riddles the old and it riddles the young— 
 
 (Of course in a ladylike, innocent way) 
 
 For I can be sweet as the flowers of May 
 
 And charmingly flatter, and simper, and smile, 
 
 And give a sly thrust (all mb rom) meanwhile. 
 
 Then I've quite a volley of ahs! and oh dears! 
 
 And floods, perfect floods of bewildering tears! 
 
 For in Vanity Fair people live by their wits 
 
206 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 (Mine have served me in time to make many good hits), 
 
 Tiiough I made one too many and found it no fun, 
 
 When instead of the father I married the son. 
 
 Yet many good people who cavil and carp 
 
 In holiest horror at poor Becky Sharpe, 
 
 And set up for models to copy and trust, 
 
 Are, like Sodom's apples, all ashes and dust. 
 
 \_E:vit Becky Sharpe. 
 \_Enter Gretchen.] 
 Gretchen. Oh, yes, I'm Gretchen, Rip Van Winkle's 
 wife. 
 " Where's he?" As usual, drinking for dear life! 
 ** Don 't count 'em !" Count 'em, indeed ! Of late 
 There 'd be no room to count 'em on the slate. 
 "May you live long and prosper!" Well, I think 
 That is a pretty toast for him to drink ! 
 I never scold, that is, I don 't begin it, 
 But oh ! if I could have him here a minute. 
 
 lExit Gretchen. 
 Fiction. But Poetry comes, scatt'ring fragrance and 
 flowers, 
 Entrancing the soul with her magical powers. 
 The Laurels she twines for my scholars and sages, 
 And sheds deathless glory o'er History's ages ; 
 And beautiful visions and sweetest of measure 
 Would she call forth e'en now for your Majesty's pleasure, 
 [Enter Poetry.] 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 207 
 
 Pop:try. Ah, yes, fair Queen! my slunib'ring lyre, 
 Silent full long, I gladly take, 
 And songs alive with Heav'nly fire 
 Its sweetest chords for you shall wake : 
 Songs of the East— the land of story— 
 Your ear shall woo, your heart shall thrill ; 
 The West— the sunset land of glory — 
 Its crimson light around them still ; 
 The North— in ruder measure flowing. 
 Waking a bolder, louder strain ; 
 The South— where flowers are ever blowing, 
 Breathing of softness once again. 
 
 [^Characters from Poetry 'pass in tableaux across the stage 
 while the Spirit of Poetry is speaking.'] 
 
 Queen. Oh ! rich and rare the priceless treasures 
 wrought 
 Within the mines, the secret mines of thought ! 
 But they have stirred and thrilled my very soul 
 In vain. Not yet the Demon yields control,. 
 Insatiate, cruel Demon of unrest. 
 That with despair and anguish rends my breast ! 
 It can not, shall not be that it is meant 
 That thus my long, long Future must be spent! 
 "Go, go, my willing Fairies, go once more. 
 Some strange, some undiscovered realms explore ; 
 Go 1 ere I, fainting, send my prayer on high 
 To beg a mortal's privilege — to die ! " 
 
208 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Fairy Fidelia. We will go, though already we've 
 searched long and well, 
 And whither to wander we scarcely can tell : 
 Perhaps 'yond the stars, in some far unknown sphere. 
 May be hidden the secret denied to us here, 
 And pitying angels will point us the way 
 And bid you despair not, but hope, trust, and pray. 
 But come, my good Fairies, no longer delay. 
 And let us e'en sing as we hasten away, 
 Though raise we no joyous nor jubilant strain 
 Until, all triumphant, we come back again! 
 
 [E.i-eunt omnes. Fairies singing.'] 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 •209 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene — A Woodland. Star of Bethlehe^f and the Angel 
 OF Charity in colloquy. 
 
 Star. Gentle Spirit, here we meet 
 
 Charity. In this sheltered, calm retreat. 
 
 Star. Where Eartli's turmoil and its din 
 
 Charity. Can not, may not enter in. 
 
 Star. All around us starry eyes 
 
 Charity. Look down from the far-off skies, 
 
 Star. Stars — the same that shone so bright 
 
 Charity. On that consecrated night 
 
 Star. When our Lord a child became, 
 
 Charity. Throwing wide in mercy's name 
 
 Star. Heaven's portals closed by sin ; 
 
 Charity. Bidding all to enter in I 
 
 Star. Gladly through the midniglit still 
 
 Charity. Rang the anthem of "Good Will ! '' 
 
 Star. " Glory unto God! " and then 
 
 Charity. " Peace !" oh, " peace on earth to men I" 
 
 Star. A stable for the Lord of Grace I 
 
 Charity. Made a palace by His face ! 
 
 Star. Poor and lowly Bethlehem, 
 
 Charity. Crowned with royal diadem. 
 
 Star. Starry hosts that night I led 
 
 Charity. While I watched the Infant's bed. 
 14 
 
210 
 
 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Star. I was sent the Kings to guide : 
 
 Charity. Yes ! they left their wealth and pride, 
 
 Star. Hast'ning Jesus to adore, 
 
 Charity. At his feet their gifts to pour. 
 
 Star. Shining still my jeweled train, 
 
 Charity. Ushers Christmas in again ! 
 
 Star. Fitting 'tis that we should meet 
 
 Charity. This high festival to greet; 
 
 Star. Charity ! in whose sweet name 
 
 (Jharity. God a little Babe became, 
 
 Star. Still should rule the Christmas feast. 
 
 Charity. And the Star that in the East 
 
 Star. Guide and sentinel was set. 
 
 Charity. Be a guide and beacon yet. 
 
 Star. But the Ages as they pass 
 
 Charity. Take not with them grief, alas ! 
 
 Star. And Earth now as many woes. 
 
 Charity. Pains, and cares as ever knows. 
 
 Star. Fortune smiles upon so few : 
 
 Charity. Blessed are the poor, 't is true. 
 
 Star. And God loves them none the less. 
 
 Charity. Yet we long to soothe distress^ 
 
 Star. And tears most my own bespeak 
 
 Charity. When they flow down childhood's cheek. 
 
 Star. Long my vigil have I kept. 
 
 Charity. I 've watched, too, when others slept, 
 
 Star. O'er a little one so mild — 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 211 
 
 Charity. It is Elsie — lovely child ! 
 Star. Yes, 'tis Elsie! Then you know 
 
 Charity. What has caused her tears to flow : 
 
 Star. Since her father is no more 
 
 Charity. Ah ! the wolf is at their door, 
 
 Star. And this Christmas there will be 
 
 Charity. In their cot no Christmas tree ; 
 
 Star. Yet with simple faith she prayed — 
 
 Charity. Yes, I know, "Christ-child," she says, 
 
 Star. " Please bring us a tree ! Indeed 
 
 Charity. There are many things we need ! " 
 
 Star, Oh ! could you some gentle breast 
 
 Charity'. Move to grant the child's request, 
 
 Star. I would go to point the way 
 
 Charity. With your brightest, purest ray. 
 
 Star. God would prize the deed as done 
 
 Charity. To Him through this little one ; 
 
 Star. Show how blessed 'tis to give — 
 
 Charity. Far more blest than to receive. 
 
 Star. But alas I in times like these 
 
 Charity. Hearts are locked by "golden keys ; " 
 
 Star. Closed to mercy, hard and cold. 
 
 Charity. "Ope they but at touch of gold." 
 
 Star. Yet God shortens not His hand : 
 
 Charity. Hardest hearts can He command : 
 
 Star. From self's iron fetters free, 
 
 Charity. Ope they at His Sesame ! 
 
212 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 IStar. And this time, to childhood given, 
 
 Charity. Of all times is nearest Heaven ! 
 Star. Then, oh! let us not despair : 
 
 Charity. Good lies hidden ev'rywhere. 
 Star. And some loving, gen'rous mind 
 
 Charity. Where we hope least may we find. 
 Star {listening). But a distant song I hear ! 
 Charity. List ! There must be Fairies near ? 
 Star. Yes ! they come. Shall we away ? 
 
 Charity. Nay ! to greet them, let us stay. 
 \_Enter Faries singing, but sloivly and sweetly, not joyously.'] 
 First Fairy {starting in surprise). What vision is this? 
 can it be unawares 
 We have brought to the haunts of the Angels our cares? 
 O, Spirit of Light! on whose forehead doth shine 
 That wonderful Star with its radiance divine, 
 And you whose fair presence such restfulness brings 
 That Peace seems to dwell 'neath the shade of your wings, 
 Who are you ? Whence came you ? Is Heaven your home ? 
 And why have you left it the sad earth to roam ? 
 Speak ! but oh ! forbid us not here to remain 
 Awhile to repose from our wanderings vain. 
 Star. I am the Star of Bethlehem ! 
 
 Charity. I, Charity, God's crowning gem ! 
 Star. Heaven is indeed our home. 
 
 Charity. But to earth we 've pitying come, 
 Star. Man to lead from ni^ht to day, 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 213 
 
 Charity. Soothe the sorrows of his way ; 
 Star. For in Heaven we heard the chime 
 
 Charity. Of the blessed Christmas time ; 
 Star. And the Savior undefiled, 
 
 Charity. Who himself became a child 
 Star. One far Christmas, ages past, 
 
 Charity. Earthward loving glances cast, 
 Star. And He told us of Earth's woe 
 
 Charity. And the bitter tears that flow. 
 Star. And to man He bade us still 
 
 Charity. Bear His message of "Good Will," 
 Star. For no saddened notes belong 
 
 Charity. To the joyous Christmas song. 
 First Fairy. Can it be, that at last shall our wander- 
 ings cease ? 
 Do you know, then, some heavenly secret of peace? 
 Oh ! tell us, bright Spirits, for sadly we rove 
 In search of that boon for the Queen that we love. 
 Star. God alone can give, not we ! 
 
 Charity. But His messengers we be, 
 Star. And His mercy is sublime. 
 
 Charity. 'T is His chosen Christmas time ; 
 Star. Harks He loving to each call. 
 
 Charity. Watching tenderly o'er all. 
 Star. Not for hers but others' woe 
 
 Charity. Let your Sov'reign's tears o'erflow ; 
 Star. Let her from her boundless store 
 
214 
 
 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Chathty. Help the needy and the poor, 
 Star. Unto hearts surcharged with grief 
 
 Charity. Whisper comfort and relief, 
 Star. And the blessings she has shed 
 
 Charity. Soon shall crown her own fair head ; 
 Star. Bid her spirit's conflict cease, 
 
 Charity. Fill her with God's own sweet peace, 
 Star. Peace that nothing ever may 
 
 Charity. Blight, destroy, or take away ! 
 Fairy Fidelia. That peace, holy spirits, we seek 
 but alas! 
 In our bright Fairy land days all sunnily pass ; 
 No grief-stricken, needy, or poor do we know, 
 No sad, breaking hearts whence the bitter tears flow. 
 In all its fair limits there is not a breast 
 Where even the shadow of sorrow doth rest, 
 Save that of our Sov'reign, the Queen of the land. 
 And we can not her anguish and pain understand. 
 To the suflf'ring she 'd minister gladly we know. 
 But tell us, to find them, oh ! where shall she go? 
 Star. 'T is because the God of Heaven 
 
 Charity. To your gracious Queen has given 
 Star. Such a high and noble mind 
 
 Charity. That content she can not find 
 Star. In the splendors of a throne 
 
 Charity. Lavished on herself alone. 
 Star. I can guide her to the door 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 215 
 
 Charity. Of the needy and the poor, 
 
 Star. I can show her many homes 
 
 Charity. Where no sunshine ever comes ; 
 
 Star. Thorny paths her Fairy powers 
 
 Charity. May bestrew with glowing flowers, 
 
 Star. Childish hearts whose early tears 
 
 Charity. Shall be dried as she api3ears. 
 
 Star. There is one, a little girl, 
 
 Charity. Lovely as the ocean pearl. 
 
 Star. To whose once contented home 
 
 Charity. Sorrow dark and chill has come : 
 
 Star. And this gladsome Christmas time 
 
 Charity. With its merry, merry chime 
 
 Star. 
 
 Charity. 
 
 Star. 
 
 Charity. 
 
 Star. 
 
 Charity. 
 
 Star. 
 
 Charity. 
 
 First Fairy\ Oh 
 
 Makes the shadows darker grow. 
 Makes her tears the faster flow. 
 For this year no Christmas tree 
 In her cottage home there '11 be, 
 And although the wide, wide earth 
 Echoes with the Savior's birth. 
 Poverty and grief, akin, 
 Will not let the echoes in. 
 
 joy ! Will you hasten with us to 
 
 our Queen, 
 To lead her glad steps where the child you have seen ? 
 The dark, brooding shades at her coming shall flee. 
 How sweet, how inefilibly sweet it will be 
 To wipe the sad tears from the innocent eyes 
 
216 
 
 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 And fill them instead with a gladsome surprise! 
 The low cottage room with resplendence adorn ; 
 And when she awakes on the fair Christmas morn 
 To dazzle her eyes Avith a wonderful tree, 
 Such as she ne'er fancied or dreamt there could be ! 
 Then come — will you come ? Oh ! we long to depart, 
 Glad tidings to bear to our dear Sov'reign's heart : 
 Her grief, her despair, and her longings are past. 
 The secret of Peace is discovered at last ! 
 Scatt'ring blessings for others, herself shall be blest, 
 And happiness evermore reign in her breast. 
 Star. Yes ! we '11 gladly, hand in hand. 
 
 Charity. Go with you to Fairy land ; 
 Star. Lead you and your Fairy Queen 
 
 Charity. Where you can — yourselves unseen — 
 Star. On the little maiden gaze ; 
 
 Charity. Note her simple, childish ways, 
 Star. Cares ill suited to her years, 
 
 Charity. Childlike faith and patient tears. 
 Star. Ere your joyful surprise 
 
 Charity. Burst upon her wand'ring eyes. 
 
 \_Exeunt omnes. Curtain falls.~\ 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 217 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene — Dame Uesule's cottage. Elsie, iMcing the chairs 
 in order ; sits down and listlessly takes up her knitting. 
 
 Elsie. At last, at last my household tasks are done ! 
 Mother left word for me to take a run, 
 When they were finished, down the mountain side ; 
 But oh ! I could not run, e'en if I tried. 
 She will not care if I sit still a bit, 
 A round or two upon this sock to knit. 
 I hope that I can sell them at the Fair ; 
 I've often seen the people buy them there ; 
 And oh ! we want so many, many things ! 
 No bread ! — no meal ! Unless poor mother brings 
 Some from the town, there will not be a bite 
 Of supper, e'en for Hilda dear to-night. 
 Poor mother !— I may call her poor indeed I 
 She knows not how my very heart doth bleed 
 To see her smile and make us eat, while she 
 Pretends she is not hungry. Ah ! dear me I 
 If rich folks knew how hard 'tis to be poor, 
 They 'd never send a beggar from their door. 
 
 And oh I how gay we were this time last year! 
 Father was with us then— and Christmas near! 
 
218 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Dear father I [_Sohs — then wipes her eyes. 
 
 But I 'm glad he went away 
 And did not live to see this sad, sad day. 
 He 's with the angels in God's home so fair, 
 And I am sure he 's praying for us there. 
 
 I wonder who '11 buy Brindle ! Oh ! to sell 
 Her is too hard ! I could not say farewell, 
 When mother and Hilda drove her off to-day — * 
 I could not look — I turned my head away. 
 I know now why our talk about the tree 
 Made mother angry; but though it may be 
 Foolish, I e'en now sometimes think that still 
 Perhaps we' 11 have one ; that the Christ-child will 
 Tell some good Fairy what we want, and she 
 Will pity us and bring our Christmas tree. 
 I've prayed so hard, that surely it does seem 
 That God must hear; and then I had a dream — 
 Oh! such a dream, last night! 'Twas Christmas Eve 
 As it is now, and I sat down to grieve, 
 When in the distance sweetest sounds I heard — 
 Sweeter than ever sang the summer bird — 
 And suddenly a flood of glorious light 
 Filled all the room; the walls stretched out of sight; 
 A star-crowned angel led a shining band 
 Of lovely Fairies just from Fairy land, 
 Who danced 'round mother, Hilda, and 'round me, 
 And as I turned to look I saw a tree — 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 219 
 
 Oh ! such a tree ! Its branches reached so high 
 
 It seemed to me they almost touched the sky. 
 
 It was ablaze with candles blue, and green, 
 
 Red, yellow— oh ! the like I 'd never seen ! 
 
 And glittering balls of silver and of gold. 
 
 And hung as full as ever it could hold 
 
 With cakes, fruits, candies— beautiful to see— 
 
 And Sunday suits for Hilda and for me, 
 
 And mother too— hoods, shawls, and all complete, 
 
 And buckled shoes so pretty and so neat. 
 
 And books and dolls— and— [Pauses and listens. 
 
 Steps without I hear — 
 Mother and Hilda! 
 
 [Springs up eagerly as Dame Uesule and Hilda 
 enter, and, kissing them, says : 
 
 Welcome, mother dear ! 
 [Hands her a chair, and takes the 'kerchief from her head. 
 You look so pale ! I '11 lay your 'kerchief down ; 
 There! rest before we talk about the town. 
 
 Hilda. Elsie ! Brindle is not sold after all ! 
 We drove her back ; she 's in her own old stall I 
 
 Elsie. Oh ! I'm so glad! But how is this? I fear- 
 Mother, can we afford to keep her here ? 
 
 Dame. No ! no ! but then I found that I could get 
 So little for her. I '11 not sell her yet : 
 Perhaps at Easter they will give me more ; 
 But oh ! we '11 have to part Avith her before, 
 
220 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Or starve. E'en now we 've neither meal nor bread, 
 
 And supperless to-night must go to bed. 
 
 l^Leans her head on the table and sobs. Elsie, put- 
 ting her arms around her, says : 
 
 Elsie. Nay, mother, nay! don't cry so ; you forget. 
 Brindle is not sold — we 've her nice milk yet ! 
 Hilda and I will take a great big drink, 
 And then of bread I 'm sure we need not think ; 
 And what may chance to-morrow, who can tell ? 
 'Tis Christmas day. And mother dear — ah, well ! 
 
 \_Chokes bach a sob. 
 God, who takes care e'en of the little bird, 
 Who tells us, if we pray we shall be heard. 
 Won't surely let us starve when all the earth 
 Is glad and joyful at the Christ-child's birth. 
 But — Listen! listen! Mother — Hilda — hear! 
 
 Hilda. How sweet ! What can it be ? Oh ! sister 
 dear ! 
 
 Elsie. 'Tis heavenly music! — Oh! my dream! — 
 
 my dream ! 
 
 It is the Fairies ! — Light begins to gleam ! 
 
 Rise, mother, rise ! Now you shall weep no more, 
 
 God's angels are already at our door ! 
 
 [ The scene shifts behind them as they stand gazing, dis- 
 closing a brilliantly lighted space, in the center of which 
 stands a gorgeous Christmas Tree. The Fairy Queen 
 and her train, preceded by the Star of Bethlehem 
 and the Angel of Charity, enter singing, and, join- 
 ing hands, form a circle, and dance around them.'] 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 221 
 
 Elsie. My Star — my Star — so beautiful and bright. 
 That has so often come to me at night ! 
 And the dear Fairies ! 
 
 Hilda. And the Tree I the Tree 1 
 
 The dolls — the shoes with buckles— sister, see I 
 
 Dame. Thank God! thank God! I'll never doubt 
 
 again, 
 
 Nor think that earnest prayer can be in vain. 
 
 [Js the dance ends, the Fairy train groups in the bach- 
 ground, leaving the Queen and the Star of Bethle- 
 hem in the center of the stage, with the Fairy Fidelia 
 and the Angel of Charity on either side of them — 
 Elsie to the right of the Angel, and Dame Ursule 
 and Hilda to the left of the Fairy. Elsie advances 
 and l-neels before the Queen and the Star.] 
 
 Elsie. Star ! my beautiful, my Guiding Star ! 
 
 Dear Fairy Queen ! come with your train so far — 
 
 I can't find words my loving thanks to say 
 
 For all the joy you've brought to us to-day. 
 
 You are so rich — so great — so mighty ! We 
 
 Have nothing fit to offer, as you see ; 
 
 But mayhap 't will be sweet to you to know 
 
 What bitter tears through you have ceased to flow, 
 
 And how you've brought us in our sorest need 
 
 A Christmas, merry Christmas feast indeed ; 
 
 And God hears His dear children's prayers, I know, 
 
 For He 's heard mine, as all these blessings show, 
 
 And every night while yet I live I'll pray 
 
 To Him for you. " Dear Jesus !" I will say. 
 
222 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 "Bless the dear Star, the Queen, and let them be 
 As happy always as they've just made me." 
 
 Dame Ursule. The prayers — not of the fatherless 
 alone — 
 A widow's prayers shall also be your own. 
 
 Queen. Good Dame — dear children, say no more. 
 To you 
 My thanks — my earnest thanks— are rather due ; 
 For though the teeming earth, the sky, the main, 
 And e'en Thought's mighty and exhaustless train 
 Their richest treasures lavished to restore 
 My lost content, 'twas only at your door 
 I laid my burden down, forever freed, 
 And felt the sweets of Peace were mine indeed ! 
 Charity, blest angel ! in my breast 
 Remain forevermore a cherished guest ! 
 And thou, Star! — bright Star of Bethlehem ! 
 Thou only canst complete my diadem ! 
 Earth's brightest, purest gems no longer shine 
 Beside thy light, eternal and divine. 
 
 Star. Be that light then yours, O Queen ! 
 
 Charity. Be your spirit e'er serene ; 
 
 Star. For God's blessing you have earned 
 
 Charity. And His golden lesson learned : 
 
 Star. Unto others e'er to do 
 
 Charity. As you 'd have them do to you. 
 
 Star. But with mortals joy may 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 223 
 
 Charity. Soon take wings and fly away. 
 
 Star. Let u.s o'er this cottage cast 
 
 Charity. Charm so potent that 't will last, 
 
 Star. And our friends with gifts endow 
 
 Charity. For the future as for now. 
 
 Star. Light in darkest hours I '11 give ; 
 
 Charity. Love is mine — in peace to live. 
 
 QuEEN^. Want ne'er again shall enter at their door, 
 And they shall live in plenty evermore. 
 
 First Fairy. I too would give something ; they 
 never shall know 
 The tears that for mortals so often must flow. 
 
 Dame. We have no words to thank you, tho' we- try, 
 
 Elsie. But we '11 ask God to do so from on high. 
 
 Star. And His angels bright and fair • 
 
 Charity. Unto Him shall waft your prayer. 
 
 QuEEX. Already am I thanked. I've learned, to give 
 Is blessed, far more blest than to receive. 
 
 First Fairy. Then let us away, for the bright 
 Christmas morn 
 Already begins the fair sky to adorn ; 
 
 But a pean we '11 sing, as we journey afar, « 
 
 To the bright Star of Bethlehem, beautiful Star ! 
 
 {^Exeunt Fairies, etc., singing. 
 
 ( Curtain falls. ) 
 
The Last Shall be First, 
 
 The Mission of the Flowers, 
 
 A DRAMA IN ONE ACT. 
 
 15 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 QUEEN FLORA, FLORIST, 
 
 ROSE, LAUREL, 
 
 JAPONICA, MAGNOLIA, 
 
 GERANIUM, VIOLET, 
 
 SUNBEAMS AND ZEPHYRS. 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST, 
 
 OR 
 
 The Mission of the Flowers. 
 
 Scene — Florals Bower. 
 
 Florist {leaning disconsolately on his spade). No flow- 
 ers ! no flowers ! My labor has been vain, 
 
 Not e'en a bud to cheer my toil and pain ; 
 
 I 've tried all arts that ever florists knew, 
 
 And worked as hard as any man could do : 
 
 Yet not a sprig ! Well, I have done my best ; 
 
 And since to work is useless I may rest {sigh). 
 [Enter Flora.] 
 Flora. What now, my friend I your busy liands 
 are still, 
 
 Your spade rests idly on the ground 'twould till, 
 
 And though I listened as I passed along 
 
 I heard no echo of your wonted song. 
 
 Look up! explain your unaccustomed grief. 
 
 And Flora's power, perchance, may bring relief. 
 
230 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 FhomsT (hopelessly). Thanks! But I must entreat 
 your pardon ere 
 I pour into your ear my tale of care : 
 T shouUl have sprung your coming steps to meet, 
 Your honored presence been the first to greet, 
 But when the distant Zephyrs breathed your name 
 I could but hang my head in grief and shame, 
 For not a single bud, a single flower, 
 Have I to deck Queen Flora's sylvan bower. 
 
 Flora. Is this your grief? Then let your honest 
 heart 
 Be sad no more : well have you done your part. 
 And much I marvel that these haunted bowers 
 Have whispered not " the mission of the flowers." 
 Longing to test the lovely blossoms' worth, 
 I scattered all abroad upon the earth, 
 And bade them wander till the fervid ray 
 Of blooming summer shone across their way. 
 
 FijOmST (joyously). And this is June! Their wan- 
 derings must be o'er, 
 And you will give me back my flowers once more. 
 My flowers, my dream by night, my thought by day 1 
 Fair Queen, recall them, bid them not delay. 
 
 Flora (Iwtening.) Hark ! Borne the echoing breeze 
 along, 
 Methinks e'en now I hear their distant song! 
 
 [ Waving her ivand and turning to the ii)ood. 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 231 
 
 Sunbeams and Zephyrs, ever ling'ring near, 
 
 Flora awaits ye — rise ! appear ! appear ! 
 
 [Enter Sunbeams and Zephyrs singing. The song is 
 ended, and Flora advances, saying: 
 
 Welcome, bright sisters, joyous and free ! 
 
 Shadows and gloom in you fair presence flee. 
 
 Haste, haste away on your devious track, 
 
 Seek out our flow'rets, bring them all back ; 
 
 Long have they wandered ; let them once more 
 
 Gladden the haunts where they blossomed of yore. 
 
 [Exit Sunbeams and Zephyrs. 
 
 Florist (earnestly). Blest be their errand. As I see 
 
 them pass 
 
 And mark their lightsome shadows on the grass. 
 
 My heart beats high, the clouds forsake my brow. 
 
 My weary toil is all forgotten now ! 
 
 To see once more this garden green and fair. 
 
 Gemmed with the earth-stars God has planted there, 
 
 Were joy indeed ! Oh ! waft them quickly home! 
 
 List the dim echoes. Queen, they come! they come 1 
 
 [Singing is heard in the distance and gradually draws 
 near. The Flowers enter, preceded by the Sun- 
 beams and Zephyrs.] 
 
 Flora {addressing the Flowers). Hail, lovely wan- 
 
 d'rers! whither have ye strayed. 
 
 And whence so long your coming have delayed ? 
 
 How sped your mission ? Did you leave behind 
 
 The sweet perfume of gentle deeds and kind? 
 
232 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 Rose. Our mission, honored Flora, we have filled 
 In varied scenes and haunts, as you had willed ; 
 But a dispute upon our homeward way 
 Arose and caused this troublesome delay. 
 
 Florist {aside in sad surprise). Dispute ! My flowers! 
 Ah, do they blend no more 
 In peace their beauties as they did of yore ? 
 
 Flora {astonished). Dispute, but how ? What jealous 
 hand has flung 
 Discord and strife my cherished plants among ? 
 
 Laurel (Ao^dfm^ a wreath in her hand). Nay! look 
 not on us all so gravely down, 
 For blossoms can not live 'neath Flora's frown ; 
 A golden Sunbeam, lightly straying past. 
 Into our midst this fairy chaplet cast, 
 And, laughing gayly, said, "This crown shall press 
 Her brow whose queenly right you all confess." 
 I, deathless " Laurel," claimed it as my due ; 
 The " Rose," presumptuous, needs must claim it too ; 
 "Japonica," "Magnolia" bolder grown, 
 And e'en " Geranium " claimed it for her own, 
 Until I thought e'en the "' Vi'let" might dare 
 Her rustic charms with ours to compare. 
 
 {^Handing the wreath to Flora, 
 The envied chaplet we to you confide, 
 Content that you the question should decide. 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 238 
 
 Flora. So let it be: the trust I will accept — 
 Ah ! would that Envy's pinion ne'er had swept 
 Your op'niug hearts 1 In this stern world of ours 
 War hath full scope: it might have spared my flowers. 
 But in the presence of these Zephyrs fair 
 And the Sunbeams, shining as the name they bear, 
 And this true friend, who 's known you long and well, 
 Each of her mission, good or ill, shall tell ; 
 And when we 've weighed each gentle deed with care, 
 'T is ours to say which shall the chaplet wear. 
 Begin you first, my Rose, my beauteous Rose, 
 We wait the tale your dewy lips disclose. 
 
 Rose. Then T must lead you backward to the day 
 Long distant, when you sped u^ on our way : 
 Wand'ring awhile along the dusty road, 
 I turned me soon where waving branches showed 
 More genial haunts, and carelessly I strayed, 
 But paused at length where silv'ry fountains played 
 Upon an emerald strand; around, above. 
 The blue skies bent in reverence and love, 
 And from a crystal palace, decked with care, 
 Delicious perfumes wafted on the air. 
 Entranced, I drew me near the charmed place : 
 The crystal walls were miracles of grace. 
 And loving festoons of each clinging vine 
 'Round marble columns did luxuriant twine. 
 The distant fountains played their silver chime, 
 
234 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 The garnered sweets from many a far-off clime 
 
 Diffused their fragrance ; and while yet I gazed 
 
 In still delight, enchanted and amazed, 
 
 A murmur rose from many a flow'ry bell — 
 
 "Stay! Stay, fair sister I Ever with us dwell." 
 
 Methought no Eden have I deemed more fair, 
 
 '* My home shall be among these flow' rets rare." 
 
 So in their queenly ranks I took my place. 
 
 And ev'ry day in beauty grew, and grace. 
 
 But few came thither ; I would be admired, 
 
 And of this sweet monotony I tired. 
 
 At length, one happy morn, a stranger came ; 
 
 I listened and I heard him speak my name, 
 
 And as he paused our flow'ry ranks beside 
 
 I raised my head in all my blushing pride ; 
 
 He looked ! he smiled ! said he, " This beauteous rose, 
 
 Queen of the flowers, shall my love disclose! " 
 
 And ere the noontide sun had kissed away 
 
 The sparkling hoar frost on the ground that lay, 
 
 Within the boudoir of a maiden fair 
 
 I bore the ardent lover's voiceless prayer. 
 
 Bent the bright face above me with a glow 
 
 Than which my inmost leaves no deeper know, 
 
 And glancing fearful at the thought confessed, 
 
 My op'ning petals to her lips she pressed. 
 
 ^^■^-X--)5--X--5f-5<--X- 
 
 Then peerless, e'en amidst the rich and great, 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 235 
 
 An lionore-l guest within the halls of state, 
 Deemed meet to tell this honeyed tale of love, 
 Exalted all the rarest flowers above, 
 Behold me, Flora, and pray tell me now. 
 Is not the chaplet fittest for my brow ? 
 
 Flora. Not yet! not yet! your sisters wait their 
 turn ; 
 Ere we decide, their merits we must learn. 
 
 Florist. Alas! my Rose, alas ! that withering pride 
 Should blight the charms that nature has supplied. 
 
 Laurel. Thanks, honored Flora! that the wily Rose, 
 With all the flowery eloquence she knows, 
 Hath not already lured you to decide 
 Hers is the crown for which we all have tried. 
 I, storied Laurel, may not boast the grace 
 Or glowing beauty of her pretty face ; 
 Such paltry charms /need not, nor desire, 
 /climb where proudest Rose may not aspire. 
 On hist'ry'-s brightest page is writ my name, 
 I wreathe the Temple of immortal Fame, 
 With deathless glory crown the victor's brow 
 And deck the throne where e'en the great must bow ; 
 Or in a softer mood with winning grace 
 My fadeless green on poet's head I place. 
 Nor have I idle been since that fair day 
 We left these shades in devious haunts to stray ; 
 Shunning the highways, first I took me where, 
 
286 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 In dingy attic, comfortless and bare, 
 
 A pallid writer burned the midnight flame. 
 
 " Alas!" cried he, "the Laurel wreath of Fame! 
 
 In vain I court it! I shall live my day — 
 
 And then, forgot, unnoticed pass away ! " 
 
 But as I lingered, listening for more, 
 
 A radiant form passed in the open door ; 
 
 " Joy, joy! " she cried, "success has crowned your lays. 
 
 And ev'ry tongue is teeming with your praise ! " 
 
 Smiles lit the brow where gloom and care had been. 
 
 And bending low I crowned it with my green. 
 
 My errant footsteps next we ling' ring trace 
 
 Where artist fingers waken forms of grace, 
 
 And here once more, where gloom and care I find, 
 
 I leave my laurels and my smiles behind. 
 
 Nor was this all : for echoing afar 
 
 I heard the distant mutterings of war ! 
 
 Stern war a wider scope my powers would yield : 
 
 I sped me onward to the battle-field. 
 
 Sad was the sight! but recked I not the dead, 
 
 Unwept, unhonored in their gory bed ! 
 
 On, where conq'ring banners streamed in air 
 
 I flew, and hung my greenest laurels there. 
 
 What tliough the darkest deeds of crime and blood 
 
 Bedimmed my hero? Conqueror he stood! 
 
 And when he cried, " Forth with the burning brand! 
 
 Let not a palace or a hovel stand 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST 237 
 
 In all this conquered country ! Houseless turn 
 
 The widows and orphans of the foe you spurn ! " 
 
 My fair young leaves did wither not nor bow 
 
 Above the darkened but victorious brow. 
 
 And when I say the order was obeyed, 
 
 His word a desert of an Eden made, 
 
 And I alone in this triumphant hour 
 
 Did crown his brow of might, his hand of power, 
 
 You '11 surely yield the queenly right is mine 
 
 To wear the wreath the golden beam did twine. 
 
 Flora. Alas! proud Laurel, that your leaves should 
 bear 
 Such warlike traces on their beauty rare. 
 Not this, I fear, the sovereignty we seek ; 
 But, sweet Magnolia, we would hear you speak. 
 
 Magnolia. Within that sunny clime where war 
 and blood 
 Unchecked have poured their desolating flood, 
 I found a home when first you bade me rove 
 From the dim cloisters of this shaded grove. 
 Fair was the cottage that I dwelt beside, 
 A lover decked it for his gentle bride. 
 And all that wealth could purchase, taste prepare, 
 Or fancy whisper he had garnered there. 
 The song birds flitted in and out my leaves 
 Or sang their morning hymns upon the eaves. 
 The garden bloomed with all the rarest flowers, 
 
238 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 And tinkling fountains chimed away the hours ; 
 And when the glowing sun had sunk to rest, 
 And the pale moon displayed her silver crest, 
 The sweet perfume of distant orange grove 
 Stole o'er the senses like a dream of love. 
 Within this Eden dwelt the youthful pair, 
 Nor let a shade of coming grief or care 
 Bedim their sunshine, till one fatal day 
 A clarion-blast drove all their bliss away, 
 'T was the shrill note of fierce, invading war 
 Resounding near and nearer from afar. 
 
 The husband girt him swiftly for the fight, 
 
 Unheeding loving arms that clasped him tight : 
 
 "My gentle bride ! I long, but can not stay, 
 
 Each heart, each hand our country needs to-day ; 
 
 But give in memory of home and thee 
 
 One blossom from our dear magnolia tree, 
 
 And I will wear it on my constant breast. 
 
 My shield in battle, my delight in rest." 
 
 'T was given, and they parted : where 
 
 To meet? and echo answered — " Where ?" 
 
 But still time passed. Where dying and the dead 
 Lay stretched alike upon one lowly bed, 
 A brave young soldier bent above a form 
 Prostrate and riddled with the battle storm. 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. :239 
 
 " Yes! I am dying. Well I know my lite 
 Ebbs in this crimson tide. My wife ! my wife ! 
 I go ! but, friend, when I am laid to rest 
 Kemove this withered blossom from my breast ; 
 Tell her I sent it with my parting sigh, 
 The token of a love that can not die ! " 
 And could a flower a higher mission know, 
 Link to the heaven above from earth below. 
 Binding two hearts in love's electric chain 
 Till death that severed make them one again ? 
 
 Flora. Loving, in truth, the deeds that 'round you 
 cling, 
 But other flow' rets must their tribute bring. 
 
 Sunbeams and Zephyrs. We are gay ! we are gay ! 
 Grave and still we can not stay ; 
 Ere the flow' rets speak again, 
 Let us sing one merry strain. 
 Flora . Sing, happy Sunbeams and Zephyrs ! we'd be 
 Dreary, indeed, if deserted by ye. 
 
 \_They sing, and when the song is ended the Geranium 
 
 speaks.^ 
 Geranium. That joyous melody might well inspire 
 E'en a Geranium with poetic fire; 
 And while its echoes linger in mine ear. 
 My travels and my mission you shall hear : 
 When from these quiet haunts I wandering strayed, 
 I took my course where echoing song birds made 
 
240 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 The air alive with music: overhead 
 
 The blue sky hung, in azure glory spread, 
 
 And myriad sunbeams from their radiant height 
 
 Poured down a flood of mellow, golden light: 
 
 Onward I passed until no more I heard 
 
 The distant warbling of the woodland bird ; 
 
 Onward, still on, till e'en the sunbeams fled, 
 
 And now no more their warmth and beauty shed, 
 
 Till, where a city sent her lights afar, 
 
 I entered just as evening lit her star. 
 
 Here devious pathways met my anxious gaze, 
 
 I paused reluctant still to tempt the maze. 
 
 Some, dim and squalid, passed before the door 
 
 Where dwelt, or rather hid, the lowly poor ; 
 
 Some, bright as day, beneath the street-lamp's glare, 
 
 Whose very stones betokened taste and care. 
 
 Led to the homes of wealth, the halls of state, 
 
 The envied mansions of the rich and great. 
 
 Quickly I shunned the dark, forbidding street, 
 
 And to the brilliant highways turned my feet. 
 
 Light flashed from windows draped with rarest lace 
 
 And, shedding magic o'er the time and place, 
 
 The strains of music and the breath of flowers 
 
 Stole on the air from these enchanted bowers; 
 
 Here would I dwell, 'mid splendor rich and rare, 
 
 And passed within the noblest mansion there. 
 
 And from my sister blossoms claimed a place 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 241 
 
 To shed my fragrance and display my grace. 
 Ere long a form whose loveliness did gleam 
 As some bright vision of a fairy dream, 
 Passed like a ray of light along our bower, 
 Gazing with tender pride on each fair flower. 
 " Where all are beautiful 'tis hard to choose. 
 My buds! which shall I pluck and which refuse ? " 
 Pausing awhile her bright eyes chanced to rest 
 Where spread my perfume, reared my scarlet crest, 
 "Ah ! sweet Geranium, beauty of the night, 
 Stealing the senses ere you meet the sight, 
 Your perfumed leaves upon my breast I'll wear, 
 Your scarlet blossoms in my raven hair." 
 She plucked — but when that night she went to rest 
 My perfumed leaves were missing from her breast, 
 My scarlet blossoms from her regal head : — 
 Mayhap they bloomed upon her cheek instead, 
 Mayhap she only gave them in exchange 
 For something dearer. It was very strange : 
 /know that night they pressed a manly heart, 
 And manly lips declared no gem of art, 
 No orient pearl, no diamond could compare 
 With those bright blossoms from her raven hair. 
 Thus e'en the noblest do my charms confess, 
 And beauty culled me to adorn and bless. 
 
 Gardner. Ah! my Geranium, know you not that 
 worth 
 
 16 
 
242 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST 
 
 Dwells rather with the lowly ones of earth ; 
 Not with the rich and great your Savior stood, 
 And not for them alofie he shed his blood. 
 
 Floiia. The beauty of your mission we confess, 
 And own 't is sweet two loving hearts to bless; 
 But look we still for deeds of nobler fame. 
 Japonical you have not urged your claim, 
 
 Japonica. Such varied scenes my sisters have por- 
 trayed 
 That I, mayhap, should shrink and be afraid 
 To tell my travels, lest perchance I seem 
 To catch some reflex of their spirit beam. 
 But though we met among the busy throng, 
 Together passed the sunny ways along. 
 Or sometimes lingered in some witching place 
 And blent our native elements of grace, 
 Yet still, methinks, on our eventful days 
 Life turned to each a new and different phase. 
 I too betook me to that fairy bower 
 The Kose has pictured with such magic power, 
 And the rash hand that plucked her beauties first 
 Left mine in that charmed spot to swell and burst. 
 My snowy petals one by one unfurled 
 Their waxen glories to the floral world, 
 And when a sister blossom said, " How fair!" 
 I bowed, nor longed for any praise more rare ; 
 But vet it could not be I thus should hide 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 243 
 
 My charms forever — I, the greenhouse pride ! 
 
 And so one morning with a throb of pain 
 
 These shades I left to come not back again. 
 
 One perfect blossom crowned a rare bouquet 
 
 Of spotless rosebuds, pure and fair as they. 
 
 One, still more lovely, in a crystal vase 
 
 Eeposed in unappropriated grace. 
 
 Fond hands had culled us with a tender pride. 
 
 The fair adornments of a fairer bride. 
 
 The evening came — it was the promised hour; 
 
 The young bride knelt within her maiden bower, 
 
 Low bent her gentle head in humble prayer, 
 
 And viewless pinions stirred the silent air. 
 
 Rising, she stood as dreamed we angels stand 
 
 In stainless glory at their King's right hand. 
 
 Gossamer robes which silver beams had kissed 
 
 Floated around her like a shining mist. 
 
 And the rich veil of dainty, fairy lace 
 
 Softened the beauties of her lovely face. 
 
 The fair bouquet her slender fingers pressed ; 
 
 My snowy blossom wore she on her breast, 
 
 And poet never dreamed a dream more fair, 
 
 More pure, more holy than this vision rare. 
 
 Thus thought the bridegroom as he turned to claim 
 
 Her hand and call her by the dearest name 
 
 God gives to woman, " Wife ! beloved wife !" 
 
 The treasured blessing of his coming life. 
 
244 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 To be the pledge of faith and love like this, 
 The witness of such pure and holy bliss, 
 Oh tell me, pray, was not my mission blest 
 Above, Queen Flora, far above the rest? 
 
 Flora. Sure God has led you all by pleasant ways. 
 And shed His blessing on your wandering days ; 
 But, shrinking Violet, you must not hide 
 Your chance adventures. Speak, ere we decide. 
 
 Violet. Nay, honored Queen, I claim no right to 
 wear 
 The crown so fitting for my sisters fair. 
 Their faultless charms would grace a regal bower. 
 While I am but a lowly, humble flower — 
 Content, 'tis true, my chosen place to fill, 
 And happy if I may but do your will ; 
 But, since you kindly bid me speak to-day 
 My simple tale, I listen and obey. 
 My varied wanderings did not lead me where 
 The rich have reared their palaces so fair. 
 Ah I not for me the mighty and the great; 
 I would but shame their splendor, mock their state. 
 I took me down a narrow, humble street. 
 And stood awhile to mark the busy feet 
 That ceaseless passed before me to and fro. 
 And wondered whence they came, where they might go. 
 At length a woman, with that saddened mien 
 Which 'mong earth's favored ones is rarely seen, 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 245 
 
 Approached, and there was clinging to her side 
 
 A little one to whom God had denied 
 
 The joys of childhood, for a tiny crutch 
 
 I saw the slender, meager fingers clutch. 
 
 The woman's garments were all thin and bare, 
 
 And threads of silver dimmed her shining hair, 
 
 And brimming o'er with sorrow's bitter tide 
 
 The look she gave the cripple at her side. 
 
 They nearer drew, and with a childish glee 
 
 That little one, so frail and sad to see, 
 
 Exclaimed, *' The flowers! please stop, mamma; oh 
 
 please ; * 
 
 I never saw such violets as these !" 
 And then she bent her pallid little face, 
 So full of suffering, unconscious grace, 
 Above me, till her clustering curls of gold 
 Half nestled in my bosom's inmost fold. 
 " How sweet!" at last she murmured with a sigh ; 
 " Oh ! if these precious flowers were always nigh, 
 I 'm sure I 'd never pine or grieve again 
 When Jesus lays me on a bed of pain. 
 But do not sigh, mamma; I know that we 
 Are poor, so poor that all this may not be. 
 I'll only say, 'Good-bye, my precious flowers; 
 You could not blossom in a home like ours.' " 
 Checking a tear, she slowly turned away. 
 " Oh stay!" I cried, "dear little maiden, stay! 
 
246 THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 
 
 Your humble home is good enough for me ; 
 To soothe your sorrows shall my mission be." 
 And so I tried their attic room to grace, 
 And shed my sweetest perfume o'er the place, 
 Until I learned to look with tender love 
 Upon that gentle, suffering little dove. 
 Dear, patient child, we little, little knew 
 How every day she near and nearer drew 
 The golden bridge, where e'en now angel feet 
 Came slowly down her failing steps to meet ; 
 Until one balmy morn we silent pressed 
 The slender hands above a pulseless breast 
 Whence the pure spirit had forever flown, 
 And felt that we were left alone, alone ! 
 Where she had entered sorrow might not come ; 
 We knew the angels had but called her home. 
 Faithful in death, my sweetest blooms I shed 
 Upon her pillow, on her golden head. 
 And bade the mother look beyond the tomb. 
 Where flow'rs, celestial flow'rs, perennial bloom ! 
 And thus, Queen Flora, I can claim no share 
 In the high honors of my sisters fair ; 
 In humble hearths and homes I have but striven 
 To use the gifts a gracious God had given. 
 
 Flora. Enough, ye Zephyrs, Sunbeams, sister flowers, 
 Confess. Can e'en the noblest deeds of ours, 
 In heav'nly worth and excellence compare 
 With the blest mission of the Violet fair ? 
 
THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST. 247 
 
 Zei^hyrs and Sunbeams. Bless her name, bless her 
 
 name ; 
 
 Gentle Violet; we proclaim 
 
 Thee our Queen, Queen of Flowers; 
 
 Take the chaplet that was ours. 
 
 EoSE. Sister, I greet you, blushing for my pride. 
 
 Laurel. And I; your modest worth you can not 
 
 hide. 
 
 Magnolia. I too would bring my tribute to your 
 
 shrine. 
 
 Geranium. And let me, lowly sister, offer mine. 
 
 Japonica. I come the last, but not, I hope, the 
 
 worst ; 
 
 For see we not how shall 'Hhe last be first'"! 
 
 Gardener. Go, lovely blossom; Flora waits to 
 
 crown 
 
 The modest head you bend so lowly down. 
 
 Flora. Approach, fair Violet; you well may claim 
 
 This crown — no symbol of an empty name. 
 
 It is the pledge of homage, deep and true, 
 
 To unpretending virtue and to you. 
 
 Receive it then. [Croivus her. 
 
 Let wood and hill and dale 
 
 Awake their echoes while we give you "Hail I" 
 
 [ They sing and then advance to the front of the stage, Violet 
 in the center, the Gardener, Flora, and the Flowers 07i 
 either side, and the Sunbeams and Zephyrs in the back- 
 ground.'] 
 
Merry Christmas. 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 WINTER, SNOW SPIRIT, 
 
 CHRISTMAS, JACK FROST. 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Scene — Winter's Palace, 
 
 WiNTEK. Hail, friends ! here before you, chill Winter, 
 we stand ; 
 Won't you give us a welcome, a shake of the hand ? 
 Although much we fear, we must own it is true 
 That we bring in our train lots of evils to you : 
 To the children, instead of June's soft, balmy breezes, 
 Aching fingers and toes, and such coughs and such sneezes • 
 To the old folks rheumatics and pains without number, 
 That rob day of peace and the night of its slumber. 
 Yet though not for us summer roses may be. 
 That we have our charms, sure you all must agree ; 
 For we sparkle and glisten and dazzle with gems 
 That rival the fairest of earth's diadems, 
 And the artist that fashions our jewels so bright, 
 With fingers so deft, is a mischievous sprite 
 Full of pranks and of tricks ; and we call him Jack Frost. 
 Ah ! I see that you know him (aside) perhaps to your cost. 
 
234 MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 But list! is it not? Yes! 'tis his step that we hear! 
 If we speak of old Satan his imps will appear! 
 
 \_E71ter Jack Frost, shipping and whistling.'] 
 Ah, ha, sir! Whence come you, our good Master Jackf 
 What fair wind has blown you so soon o'er our track ? 
 
 Jack Frost. A north wind, if any. I come but to ask 
 How you're pleased with your jewels. 
 
 Winter. Oh! perfect your task. 
 
 Don't you see how they sparkle and glisten and shine ? 
 Ah ! no other queen can boast jewels like mine. 
 But, you mischievous spirit, I fear that the sight 
 Won't pay for the fun you're missing to-night. 
 
 Jack Frost. Oh ! I nipped a few noses and toes as I 
 passed. 
 And bursted some jars in a pantry locked fast, 
 And tripped a few people not sure of their legs — 
 Ah ! (laughing) one was a boy well laden with eggs; 
 And I'd just started after a man with a tray. 
 When a fair spirit asked me to show her the way 
 To your Majesty's palace — 
 
 Winter {angrily). And you left her to wait! 
 
 Do your pranks know no limit ? Now take yourself straight. 
 And usher her in. \_Exit Jack. 
 
 Winter. Oh! that terrible boy! 
 He 'd make his grandmother a sport and a toy. 
 But {listening) they come! 'Tis the Snow! and she carols 
 a song, 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 255 
 
 And scatters her flakes as she dauces along ! 
 
 [Enter Snow Spirit, dancing and singing.'] 
 Winter. Let us hasten to greet you! Too long did 
 you wait 
 Unnoticed alone at our closed palace gate. 
 But Jack for our pardon shall not beg in vain, 
 Since he 's added such beauty and grace to our train. 
 
 Snow Spirit. Thanks, gracious Winter. But I come 
 and go 
 Forever on your track. I am the Snow. 
 Silent and swift my feathery flakelets fall. 
 Weaving a charm, a mystic spell o'er all ; 
 Crowning with beauty housetop, tree, and spire, 
 Bearing my magic to the household fire, 
 Where young hearts beat and bright eyes brighter grow. 
 And shout a welcome to the merry Snow. 
 
 Winter. Fair indeed is your mission, and the old 
 folks, no doubt. 
 Think of snows long ago, and re-echo the shout. 
 It is pleasant to feel, although youth can not last, 
 That the old in the young may live over the past. 
 
 Jack Frost. I wonder who lives his past over me ! 
 My stars ! what a jolly old boy he 'd be ! 
 
 Snow Spirit. As yet unnamed, a charm have I to 
 boast — 
 The one of all my gifts I prize the most : 
 I am the harbinger of Christmas! White 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS, 
 
 Was the still earth upon that wondrous night 
 
 In ages past when stars sang in the morn, 
 
 And angel choirs proclaimed that Christ was born. 
 
 And now, when first o'er hill and wood and vale 
 
 My mantle falls, all tongues repeat the tale 
 
 Of Bethlehem, and children far and near 
 
 Cry out, "The snow! Christmas will soon be here!" 
 
 Jack Frost. That 's so ! you 've a charm, certain sure, 
 Madam Snow. 
 But hurry Chris, won't you ? He 's awfully slow ! 
 
 Winter. Jack, where are your manners? DoesJ the 
 heart in your breast 
 Beat responsive to nothing that is not a jest! 
 
 [ Turning to the Snow Spirit. 
 Fairy Snow, rare indeed is the charm that you claim, 
 And ever most welcome it renders your name ; 
 For of all that God sent us to make this world fair, 
 Naught can with the bright spirit Christmas compare. 
 Snow Spirit. But list! what sounds are these that 
 greet my ear? 
 A Christmas anthem, and it draweth near! 
 
 \_Singing is heard in the distance, and as the lastjnotes die 
 
 away Christmas enters. 
 Christmas. I, Christmas, come to greet you, friends, 
 with song ; 
 For songs to me of right divine belong, 
 Since on the midnight air, all hushed and still, 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 267 
 
 RaDg out the anthem, " Peace on earth, good will 
 To man, and glory up on high," 
 Whence God looks on us with a father's eye. 
 This radiant star upon my brow 
 In pure resplendence glistens even now 
 As when in ages past it silent kept 
 Its vigil where the Godlike Infant slept, 
 And at my coming many a heart in prayer 
 Is bowed as bent the kneeling angels there. 
 The gay and careless to the crib I lead 
 To learn to love and pity those who need ; 
 The poor and grief-worn lead I also there 
 To show them how their many woes to bear ; 
 The meek and lowly and the pure of heart, 
 That Jesus may his sweets to them impart ; 
 And to the little ones " He bade to come " 
 I bring His blessing in their happy home. 
 Fill it with sunshine, rear the mystic tree. 
 Laden with wondrous fruit most fair to see. 
 Old Santa Claus prime minister I make ; 
 And he grows young each year for childhood's sake, 
 Calls up his ponies, harnesses his sleigh, 
 And down the chimney dashes then away. 
 Into each tiny bed he takes a peep, 
 And, sure each little one is fast asleep, 
 Goes to the stockings hanging by the fire 
 And drops in each the owner's heart's desire. 
 17 
 
258 MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Then from his pockets, stuffed with dishes, dolls. 
 And guns and trumpets, drums, and blocks and balls, 
 Books, swords and pistols, horses, whistles, dogs. 
 And arks with every thing from bears to frogs, 
 He swift prepares — a jolly workman he — 
 To hang his treasures on the shining tree. 
 Then pulling on his skull-cap once again, 
 And whistling softly to his pony train, 
 He 's off at once, to come no more, I fear. 
 Till Christmas brings him back another year. 
 
 Jack Frost. We '11 be gay and full of good cheer, 
 For Christmas comes but once a year. 
 
 Winter. Once a year; that is true. Then let no one 
 be sad. 
 Let us laugh, dance, and play, and be merry and glad ; 
 Throw care to the winds. Smiling faces, good cheer. 
 Should welcome fair Christmas, that comes once a year. 
 
 Snow Spirit. But, beautiful Spirit, you came with a 
 song, 
 And music and mirth to each other belong. 
 If you call up the jubilant echoes again, 
 Our hearts and our voices may join the strain. 
 
 Christmas. To hear is to obey. I'll gladly sing. 
 Come, let us make the very walls to ring ; 
 While at my signal shall be drawn aside 
 The veil from eager eyes has served to hide 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 259 
 
 Our dazzling tree. Loud let our voices ring : 
 
 All hail ! all hail ! we sing, we sing, we sing ! 
 
 [ They sing, and meanwhile Christmas wares her hand and 
 the tree is unveiled.'] 
 
 Winter {turning to behold it, exclaims) : What beauteous 
 
 vision greets my wondering eyes ! 
 Snow Spirit. Even the snow Avarms with the glad 
 
 surprise ! 
 Jack Frost. Hurrah for Santa Glaus, that jolly boy! 
 Christmas. Brings one and all a Christmas full of 
 
 joy! 
 Snow Spirit. Then let us wish to every one that's 
 
 dear 
 Christmas. A merry Christmas and a glad New Year ! 
 
 {Curtain drops.) 
 
FINIS. 
 
 N this book I have garnered here 
 These fragments some perchance may prize, 
 The scattered waifs of many a year 
 That far, aye far, behind me lies. 
 
 Life's early dreaming time hath poured 
 
 Its glowing visions o'er the page, 
 And further on the thoughts are stored, 
 
 More chastened, of a riper age. 
 
 No stirring themes, no measure bold 
 Perchance may claim with these a place, 
 
 Nor heaven-born genius speechless hold 
 You spell-bound with its nameless grace. 
 
 These lines are simply echoes caught 
 Unstudied from my life's refrain : 
 
 To you, to me, with meaning fraught, 
 To others but an idle strain. 
 
262 FINIS. 
 
 And yet, when looking o'er one day 
 Each rudely penciled sketch, it seemed 
 
 I heard a voice, low whispering say : 
 
 "These are the dreams that you have dreamed- 
 
 " The silent Echoes of the Past, 
 
 The inmost breathings of your soul. 
 
 And Time is bearing you so fast 
 
 On where the deep, dark waters roll, 
 
 " Then gather them while yet you may, 
 Though fragments, let them not be lost, 
 
 Your child will deem each careless lay 
 A gem beyond all earthly cost." 
 
 As yet Life's upward slope has been 
 Spread out before me, green and wide ; 
 
 But soon I '11 reach the top, and then 
 I fain must take the downward side. 
 
 And when at last I've crossed the stream 
 Whose waters lave the other shore, 
 
 These snatches of Life's poet dream 
 Shall speak to you of me once more.